The sky seems to dim for a split second — and suddenly, a thunderous roar pierces the air.

It seems the summoning was a success.

“That demon will grow in power the longer it stays in this plane,” says Trent. “Better to deal with it as soon as possible.”

“Kill it while it’s weak,” you answer with a nod while picking up your bow and quivers.

You rush towards the roar’s location. Eomer runs a bit slower because of his armor — but the old man can still keep up.

The vegetation and even the trees have all but withered — signs of rot and decay are all around and even the soil is turning to an arid gray.

There are no sounds around you except your footfalls. No chirping of birds or the buzzing of insects. Even the wind seems to have stopped.

“This place… is dead.”

Half a mile away from the sound, you notice a few creatures running towards you and alongside you.

“More hounds?” you wonder.

You listen to the footfalls and confirm that they are indeed hell hounds — nine in total.

They’re not attacking but they seem to be getting into position to encircle you or maybe even try to herd you to a certain place.

You drop your pace to give Trent a chance to catch up. You do this more for his safety than yours. The old man can be a bit reckless.

“Three on each side,” says Trent while taking deep breaths. He is winded but is otherwise ok.

“And three in front,” you add. “They are either waiting for something or looking to attack us together.”

“Let them,” says the veteran hunter, a hint of bloodlust in his eyes. “It will make the fight more glorious.”

Around 300 meters away from where you heard the demon’s roar, the hounds start to attack.

They charge — seemingly directed by a single consciousness. At this rate, they would converge on your spot at roughly the same time and it would be nine of the hounds against two of you.

“To the left,” cries Trent and he charges towards the leftmost hell hounds.

You follow. Changing your heading would give you a few crucial seconds — giving you time to cut their numbers, even if it’s just one or two hounds.

Trent charges at a lunging hound. He uses his shield to absorb most of the hound’s momentum and then cleaves it in two before it even touches the ground.

You nock an arrow and shoot while running — simultaneously using the snap of the bowstring to get a 360-degree picture of your surroundings.

A hound falls to your arrows and you “see” six hounds converging behind you just 30 meters away.

The last hound prepares to breathe fire but Trent uses the opportunity to smash its head with his shield — pressing the hound to the earth and slicing off its head with his sword.

You lose one more arrow before discarding your bow and readying your axe and shield.

The arrow pierces the lead hound in the eye. It stumbles as it dies forcing the other hounds to evade the dying hound.

A few split-seconds earned. More than enough to have your shield firmly in place and your axe firmly in your grip.

The hounds charge in unison, their mouths dribbling with smoldering flames instead of saliva.

Trent’s previous charge puts him too far forward, leaving you alone to face the five hell hounds.

Three of them charge at you from different directions while two position themselves to flank you — preparing to breathe fire.

You use your shield to strike at one hound, angling your blow so that it collides with another hound. You strike another hound with your axe cleaving its head in two and seemingly causing a small explosion.

“Those orbs have that effect?” you wonder as you roll forward to avoid the fiery breath of the two flanking hell hounds.

You feel an instance of scorching heat on your forelegs — too brief to cause any real damage. You note that you didn’t feel the heat on your feet.

“The boots seem to be working,” you think.

Trent joins the fray with a swing of his sword, lobbing off the head one of the fire-breathing hounds.

“Just four more left boy!” you hear him yell, seemingly to encourage you or maybe just to keep count.

“Enough of this,” you mumble silently.

Having gauged the hounds’ fiery breath, they barely pose a threat to you. You drop your shield as well as all pretenses of defending.

Two hounds lunge at you.

You strike one with your axe — cutting it in two from its shoulder to its belly. The second one collides with you, its claws lodged in your cuirass.

You grab it with your free arm and throw it at a hell hound preparing to breathe fire.

The two collide in a jumbled heap.

You close in and stomp your foot on one hound’s head — crushing its head with sheer force and weight. The other hound meets its end with a strike from your axe.

You see Trent finishing of the last remaining hound with a sword thrust just as you flick the blood away from your axe after your last kill.

You give him a nod of acknowledgment as you pick up your shield and start strapping it to your back along with your axe. You retrieve your bow and quiver while Trent catches a few breaths.

“This armor is too heavy for running,” he says while knocking on his metal breastplate, “but the wife won’t let me leave home without it.”

You smile at his attempt at humor.

The two of you walk the rest of the way — preserving your strength for the battle ahead.

What awaited you was a blood-drenched clearing.

A crude altar stood at the center and dozens of bodies — both human and goblin — litter the surroundings.

A cloaked figure stands behind the altar and beside him is an 8-foot monstrosity holding a crude bone greatsword.

The demon looks like a huge orc with horns jutting out from behind its head and ending a few inches from its eyes. Its skin is deep crimson and it seems to be covered by a thin layer of fire.

You unleash three consecutive shots before the shadowy figure can even say a word — two to the demon and one to the summoner.

Two arrows hit the demon, piercing its outer skin but not penetrating further. You see the arrow shafts burning from the demon fire, quickly turning to ashes.

The other arrow hits some form of barrier as your arrow breaks before it can hit the caster.

The words of the shopkeeper come unbridled into your mind, “… foes that arrows won’t be able to touch.”

“Maybe I just need to use bigger arrows,” you think to yourself as you once again drop your bow to ready your axe and shield.

The demon charges forward, seemingly enraged by your attempts to shoot it.

Trent meets its charge only to be swatted away by the demon’s massive sword.

He lands several feet away — disheveled but fine.

He glances at you and you gesture to the caster with your eyes. He nods before getting up and charging once again — this time towards the summoner.

The demon strikes with an overhead strike.

Crude. Predictable. Easily Avoidable.

You deftly evade to the side — this time creating a bigger allowance just to make sure there are no surprises similar to the runed bear’s.

The sword smashes into the ground, creating a three-foot pillar of fire as it falls.

You look at the burned ground where the sword impacted. The extra precaution probably saved you from being scorched.

From the corner of your eye, you see Trent blocking bolts of fire as he rushes towards the summoner.

“It seems he has that covered,” you think to yourself. “Now for this demon.”

The demon strikes again with its sword. You evade by moving back but it follows up with a grab aimed at your shoulders.

You sidestep and cleave the outstretched arm with your axe — the force of the blow penetrating its burning skin and breaking bone.

You hear a snapping sound as the force of your strike splits your axe’s haft — making it all but useless. You quickly discard the useless weapon.

You make a quick forward roll to increase the distance from you and the burning demon — switching the metal shield to your right hand as you stand.

The demon charges — the burning sword in its uninjured hand flaring with fire.

You meet its charge with a quick burst of speed, putting you a few inches from the demon before it can react.

You smash its torso with the edge of your shield.

The blow stops the demon in its tracks forcing it to stumble three steps back.

The rebound from the blow would have sent you flying but an outline of black covers your body and stops your momentum.

The demon strikes and you evade — sometimes you get the chance to strike with your shield, but you deal no significant damage.

You hear a muffled scream as Trent finally manages to subdue the summoner.

You see the grizzled veteran pause to catch his breath, parts of his armor clearly showing damage. Blood from a few minor wounds is dripping from his armor — but he still rushes towards you and the demon.

The demon is clumsier with a broken arm. It prepares another overhead strike — but this time, you rush to its legs — grabbing both of them with your arms and lifting.

The heat from the demon’s skin scorches your arms — not damaging them immediately, but sending sharp pain into your brain.

You lift the demon off its feet, sending it crashing to the ground — dousing the raging flames on its body, if only for an instant.

You rush towards the downed demon and strike down its neck with your shield.

The blow staggers the demon but doesn’t penetrate its thick skin. The shield wasn’t much of a weapon and you weren’t really expecting a kill. All you wanted was a bit of time.

Strrhak!

Trent’s magical blade plunges into the demon’s head, finally ending the battle.

The demon slowly dissipates — banished back from whence it came from.

It seems it was a mere projection of the demon and not its actual self.

“You did well boy,” Trent says between gasps. “But next time, don’t rely on me for the heavy lifting.”

You both tiredly laugh.

You make a quick scan of your body and aside from the burns in your forearms and parts of your chest — you seem to be fine. The burns would take two to three days to heal but you can still use them as normal if the situation calls for it.

“Now for the loot,” Trent says eagerly.