Moonbiter

An excerpt from The Black Company Roleplaying Game.  Illustrated by Dennis Detwiller. Text by Shane Ivey.

This was the first time we saw Moonbiter up close. I hope it’s the last. Our outfit was on the flank, reserves for a night attack. Headquarters was somewhere behind us, the Captain and the wizards and all. Chuckle was muttering to himself next to me, laughing at jokes nobody could hear. Shirks kept checking the straps on her shield. Everybody dealt with it their own way. I held the platoon flag with that braver-than-thou grimace. If we had to go in, I’d be one of the first. Then it wouldn’t be so bad. Waiting is worse.

The Rebel had dug in hard at the edge of town, a pike regiment with longbow companies, veterans, carefully hidden. They could have sprung a nasty surpise if we didn’t already know they were there.

Moonbiter lifted an armored hand. We weren’t close but we heard his voice. A grinding rumble like nothing human, like nothing that ever lived. Night darkened. Moonlight dimmed. Stars went out. Cold as curdled fear. It must have been worse in town. The houses and barns just vanished in blackness. Distant cries called out.

The voice rumbled again. The darkness lifted and night came back. No idea how long it had been. I took a breath, shaky with relief. There wasn’t much relief in the village. An ugly pale glow lingered, faded slowly. The barricades had somehow crumbled under their own weight. Houses now sagged, wood cracking like they’d aged a thousand years. Men huddled in the wreckage as if hoping the world would forget them, strength and guts gone. Some had killed themselves in the blackness.

Moonbiter’s horse stepped forward. A few riders joined him. His shock troops trotted ahead. Whatever Moonbiter’s spell stole from the night, he gave it to them. They began to howl. They ran for the village, ran like werewolves, tireless, filled with a killing joy.

The Rebel tried to gather his nerve and form up. A few desultory arrows shot out. One of Moonbiter’s men ran on with his throat impaled until he collapsed. Then they were in the town, big axes hacking. The screams began again, sharper. That other kind of horror.

Moonbiter held a long sliver of wan light like a curving sword. The Rebels who hadn’t run from the axes ran from that blade. An axe could only kill you.

They didn’t need to call in the reserves.