Berserker Part 59

Millienya had already rounded up all the surviving members of the caravan when Lars finally reached her. Maybe forty refugees had survived. They had started out with easily twice that number, the sickly sweet smell of cooking flesh filling the air leaving no doubt in the minds of those assembled their as to what terrible fate befell the rest. Realizing the origin of the stench a few of the more emotional or less dazed adults retched uncontrollably. Somehow Kyle had managed to avoid the explosion that rocked the lead wagon and was participating in the sick display.

With the wagons either on fire or tipped over they all would be forced to travel by foot, abandoning their possessions in exchange for their lives. They had trudged perhaps a qaurter of the way back to the city in the smoke when a stragglerin the group fell to the ground. A goblin ripping avidly at his back, pulling up great strips of clothe and eventually skin before his cries attracted the attention of the rest. The goblin was swiftly cut down and friends kindly helped the wounded man to his feet.

Millienya could see in the distance the remaining few Orcs and Goblins charging forth to escape the flames. With the enemy’s mode of retreat cut off they desperately ran after the refugees, just as intent on escaping the flames as any creature. She was not the only one to have spotted their plight, a number of grim faced veterans turned around and planted themselves firmly to face the oncoming monsters.

Continuing onward the tide of frantic creatures crashed against the thin wall of resistance the stubborn fighters provided. For the time it took the greenskins to dispatch the valiant men, the refugees had gained a few hundred more strides. At the very cusp of the city walls, where the large ditches dug around the city created a chasm which the fire could not cross, the group ran desperately, breaking coughing and choking through the thick cover of smoke to a small window of fresh light provided by the ditch.