Drew On- Vs. Whiteskull

He was about to act when he felt a hand snatch at his ankle, his lycan foot tugged away, sending him face-first onto the lift roof. He glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of a pale, skeletal face appearing over the cage’s edge: The chieftain had sought him out. Drew kicked out but the White Skull leader was fast, dipping his head, dodging the blow. The warrior was on the roof quickly, swinging his ax down. Moonbrand came up, deflecting the blow, and sending sparks showering off the flint ax head.

The White Skull punched the Werewolf in the muzzle twice in quick succession, and Drew’s head recoiled with each blow. The Wylderman was fearless, his face set in a terrible grin as he brought down another punch. His eyes were wild, the chieftain relishing the chance to fight the therianthrope. The Wolf’s mouth opened, catching the fist in his jaws. Drew snapped them shut, but before he could grind his teeth he felt the ax shaft strike his nose, the pain instant and dreadful, making him release his jaws. The ax flew down again, and a blind parry from Moonbrand sent it away.

The two wrestled across the bars, rolling and bucking, each trying to overpower the other. Below, Drew spied four Wyldermen who had split away from the Greencloaks to get into the lift. They jabbed upward with their spears, careful to avoid the White Skull but keen to find the Werewolf. The chieftain grinned, letting his ax go with a clatter to take hold of the lycanthrope by the shoulders. With his only hand holding Moonbrand, Drew was helpless to prevent the White Skull from rolling him over. As the two turned, the chieftain slowly got the upper hand, and Drew reached out with his legs, his transformed feet taking firm hold of the lift rope that disappeared into the dark sky overhead.

The Wyldermen below saw the White Skull chieftain turning the Werewolf. Finally he was on top, his bare back exposed above, dark fur bristling between the bars. As they readied to strike, Drew lashed out with Moonbrand, every ounce of his strength focused on the sword. The glowing blade swung around, and the chieftain was relieved that the blow missed him. But the White Skull was not aware of the Werewolf’s target.

Moonbrand scythed through the rope as the Wyldermen in the cage decided to strike. The sword tore through the thick hemp that was bound around the bars. Instantly, Drew was catapulted skyward, his powerful clawed feet clenched tightly around the rope’s end. The White Skull chieftain spun and crashed back onto the cage roof, the four spearheads striking through the grille, entering his body and emerging from his back.

Drew watched the dead Wylderman and the battle disappear from view as he raced into the heavens, another lift hurtling by in the opposite direction, empty and earthbound. He looked up, holding onto the rope for dear life, as the dark branches of the Great Oak rushed to meet him.

B4 P5 C4