Under The Pale Moon

Anticipation… The one thing that Arnid hated the most. He could never handle tension, especially the night before a big battle. But he had to focus because his mission was critical: he was the officer in charge of a small Kaedweni reconnaissance team tasked with acquiring information on the size of the Aedirnian army forces. General Vandergrift was precise about it:

“Do not return unless you find out what Seltkirk, that pig of a man, will field against us tomorrow.”

Arnid was not the type of man that could be intimidated easily. His years of service under King Henselt’s banner turned Arnid into a seasoned warrior, deprived of any form of emotions or delusions of morality. But general Vandergrift was a man that instilled fear into the hearts of the people that surrounded him. His madness is only matched by his uncontrollable ruthlessness. “The Visitor” – as he was widely known among the ranks of the Kaedwenian army – was a man that people were terrified of… and Arnid knew better not to return to the camp without fulfilling his general’s wishes.

Under cover of night, Arnid’s team had already crossed the river Pontar and silently made their way through the forest west of Vergen. The Aedirnians had set up camp near the small dwarven town, and Arnid knew that Seltkirk would probably have his scouts roaming through the forest. They had to be careful during their approach as they knew that discovery by the enemy meant certain death. Whether death would come from the hands of their enemies or by the hands of their very own bloodthirsty general remained to be seen.

Traversing the dense forest surrounding Vergen has also proven to be an unexpected obstacle for which the Kaedwenians did not account. Not only they had to move as silently as possible, but they also had to be mindful of enemy traps and possible ambushes. Black clouds had filled the skies with their majestic presence since early afternoon, preventing the full moon from shining its pale rays of light on the earth. This event only increased the perplexity of the soldier’s predicament, turning every step of the small armed group into a disquieting experience. Despite the unavoidable exhaustion already taking hold of him after the challenging journey, Arnid was on full alert. His eyes had barely adjusted to the pitch-black void that engulfed him, and he carefully paid attention to even the slightest noises coming from his surroundings. He was prepared for anything this dark world would throw at him and it wasn’t long before his increased alertness proved invaluable.

Arnid was the first among the team to hear the disturbance coming from somewhere ahead of them. Although the darkness denied him a clear view of what lay ahead, his hearing gave him a good enough excuse to quietly pass down the halt order to the rest of his team. The Kaedwenian men kneeled, frozen in their positions, each soldier trying to make sense of what was coming. After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Arnid gave the signal to split the team in two, slowly moving to the flanks of their current position, a move which would allow them to avoid whatever was coming their way. They did not know whether it was an animal or a human being, but whatever it was, it was moving toward them.

As the moments passed and the sound of cracking branches was getting closer, Arnid gently started unsheathing his dagger from his waist belt. He knew that acting first was his only real chance of dealing with this unknown threat as quickly as possible. He leaned forward, one hand placed on the ground, the other firmly gripping the hilt of his dagger, patiently waiting like a predator stalking his future prey.

Crack, crack, crack. A low moaning sound. It sounded human. Arnid was ready. His eyes started making out a dark silhouette emerging from the trees. It looked human. The dark figure moved forward slowly, and its movements were irregular, uneven, and chaotic. It was time; Arnid took a half-step forward and took a deep breath. Every muscle on his body tensed, every ounce of his being filled with unnatural excitement, the kind that only a true soldier can feel right before he moves in for the kill... Arnid jumped up from his hiding position, intending to thrust his dagger at the black mass now almost upon him, only to force himself to stop dead in his tracks immediately. At that moment, the moon penetrated through the thick layer of clouds shielding its pale glow, its silver-light rays generously showering over the landscape. What Arnid saw left him confused and bewildered.

The dark figure was a man dressed in Aedirnian armaments. His face was pale and bloody, his eyes filled with horror and despair. Parts of what used to be shiny armor were still attached to his body, and the rest seemingly were shredded to pieces by an otherworldly force. This wreck of a man was barely able to stand, his hands still holding back parts of his intestines from falling through the large gash in his stomach. Arnid hesitated as a considerate amount of questions flowed through his mind. What’s going on here? What happened? Did the battle start? His train of thought was quickly broken as the Aedirnian man mumbled…

Run!!

And then… came the first scream. Arnid turned around, only to see one of his men impaled by razor-sharp claws. One fleeting moment later, in one swift movement, the poor bastard was torn in half, each part of his body swept aside like pieces of an old ragdoll. There was now a tall, hairy figure in the place where Arnid’s man stood. The moonlight reflected on its body, betraying subtle details of the beast’s physique. Large claws, long fangs, hollow white eyes, and long dark hair covering its face. A wolf’s face. Without even thinking, Arnid let out a battle cry and charged towards the menacing figure, his men quickly following suit. Arnid managed to stab his dagger into the beast’s abdomen but was quickly swept aside by a fearsome blow. Every soldier soon met the same fate, either pushed away by sheer force or bitten and clawed to death by this rampaging fiend. Arnid watched in horror as the loud shrieking voices of his men echoed in the dark forests of Vergen. With every movement the beast made, blood gushed out from the bodies of the unfortunate souls that dared to challenge it. It almost looked like beast and men alike were entangled in an unforgiving ceremonial dance of death, from which the last survivor would claim the souls of its victims.

Arnid stumbled back on his feet. For the first time in his life, he felt powerless to react. He felt genuine fear. Fear is a wicked emotion. When experienced in its complete and terrifying glory, it can push men to perform feats of courage or cowardliness that otherwise would seem impossible. It's fear… that can uplift or brake men’s spirits. It's fear… that makes men go insane. It's fear… that makes men perceive the irrational as rational. It's fear… that gives men wings. So Arnid started to run without a pre-defined course or heading. Without looking back. Without caring about the men he called brothers just a few hours before. He only wanted to escape as far as possible from the madness and horror he had just witnessed.

And under the pale moon, the forest’s local residents chose to remain silent… a humble tribute to the men whose screams pierced through the darkness.