Faint memories flashed through Aleister's mind as he drew his bow in an instant. Athas sprinted off to inform the other side. Gilmore bent down and over the dead villager. With a sullen face, he pulled out the arrow lodged in the man's throat.

"Damn," Gilmore cursed.

"What's wrong?" Aleister asked, facing away from the fallen body.

"This is the arrow of a hawk gnoll," he said, tossing it over to Aleister.

Aleister looked at it, but it seemed normal to him.

"Gnhawls are their name. Sound familiar?"

"Not ringing a bell right now."

"Not too surprised. Their name is quite the mouthful." Gilmore continued, "They're specific subspecies of that share traits of a hawk." he pointed at the end of the shaft and at the fletching, "See all the white feathers? Those are feathers grown from the bodies of the hawk gnolls. This specialized arrow type allows them to travel across larger distances at a much greater velocity. That speed increases their penetration power and the smaller drop off allows for greater accuracy. "

The rest of the villagers along the wooden wall noticed their fallen friend and wanted to return fire. However, as they peeked above the wall, they noticed—nothing.

Shocked, one villager asked, "H—How is this possible?"

"Do not fret," Gilmore said after moving the corpse next to a building wall. "It's just a simple scare tactic. Gnolls feed on not just flesh, but fear as well. The archer that shot our fellow neighbor down has already left. The genuine attack will begin anytime. Stay alert, bows at the ready. Don't let his sacrifice be in vain."

"A fear tactic? That doesn't line up with what I've read about gnolls."

"Most gnolls wouldn't even bother, and just rush in. Hawk Gnolls, however, are slightly above average intelligence from the basic type you've read about," Gilmore said.

Aleister scratched his chin. "I don't even remember any book mentioning a specific gnoll subspecies."

"I'll lend you some more advanced texts when this is over." Gilmore smirked and rested his hand on his shoulder. "As an experienced fighter, it will be my job to patrol the walls and manage both entrances, making sure if any gnolls enter the village, they die. Thus, I can't stand by your side any longer. Just know, if worse comes to worst—run. Don't try to play the hero. I know that you want to prove yourself, but dead men can't take revenge, even if you become a ghost."

"Ghosts exist, do they not?."

"Still have the stomach to joke, huh? Then I'm sure you'll be fine," Gilmore said as he lifted his hand and walked away.

Aleister smirked as he climbed up the ladder and took the place of the fallen villager. The fellow men on his sides acknowledged his presence for a brief moment before returning to their hyper vigilant state.

He took a deep breath. In—and out. His nerves rattled. Every fiber of his being shook. His heart raced. No idea if he would live or die or what would come next. No. He knew what would come next. But he held the high ground. The gnolls had to attack him.

A raspy caw cried out from above. Aleister looked up at the curious noise. This stupid bird is still here, huh? I wonder—

"ENEMY SPOTTED!" a villager yelled.

He could hear the rasp and shrilling in her voice. Aleister shook his head and turned around. His back no longer against the stone merlon. **

Well, now is not the time to get distracted. Is there really any time to get distracted though? Not really, but now is definitely not the time. It's happening right now, isn't it?

He shook his head again and knocked an arrow into his bow.

"FIRE!"

Aleister pulled the bowstring back and jiggle peeked through the crenel on his right. He expected a swarm of gnolls, but reality differed. Large blank areas of air separated the gnolls. This made aiming much more difficult, as they had plenty of room to maneuver around.

A couple of villagers already shot. Some of them being fire arrows. This illuminated the dark surroundings, allowed them to locate the positions of the enemies. The chance of a fire broke out because of this was rather high, but it was a risk they needed to take.

He released his left hand. The arrow flew across the empty plains and missed.

Another—miss.

He missed the first couple of arrows, but struck one straight in its chest. Its fur soaked its blood, but it kept on running as if the arrow never hit it.

Expected*.* Aleister continued to fire. He didn't focus on the same gnolls, but targeted the closest gnolls first. Although he missed a few times, believed in his ability to hit the ones further in the back just as easily, but the ones in front posed the most threat at the current moment. Choosing to be the first showed an aggressive intent. If one of them closed the gap and reached them soon, it would cause too much disruption. Most of the other villagers seemed to share the same idea as him.

The first gnoll fell in just a few seconds. Looks like about ten arrows. Aleister couldn't get a good enough look because just as they fired arrows from the walls, some hidden gnolls fired back. From a cursory glance, no one seemed to get hit. He couldn't pay too much attention to the rest of them, though he had enough to worry about. With cold eyes, he knocked another arrow into his bow and fired away.

One by one the gnolls fell. Of course, the rate slowed down as the villagers and gnolls traded blows. Aleister avoided getting hit so far, but being close to the gate, most of the gnoll's ignored him. Instead, they aimed at the archers further away. In his current situation, this served as an advantage. But as soon as the gnolls knocked the gate down, he entered the danger zone.

An hour passed as the sound of arrows whizzing in the air ceased to exist. He and the rest of the villagers finally ran out of arrows. Now, they could not do anything besides arm themselves and wait for close quarters combat.

From a glance, he estimated that they felled around thirty or so gnolls, with another twenty behind the dead bodies, but rapidly approached. That means around fifty gnolls attacked the southern gate. This was close to the sixty Gilmore estimated earlier. Using this information, Aleister surmised that this was more than likely fifty percent of the gnoll pack. If it wasn't—well, he didn't want to dwell on that.

Aleister dropped his bow and strapped on a leather helmet. Even though he found it incredibly uncomfortable, it still provided a significant enough amount of protection that he ignored the annoyance. Then picked up the nearby spear and shield, his sword still buckled to his belt.