Always forward, never back, Ekkill thought. He continued to plow a path through the chaos towards the village. Some of the savages began to flee, the vast majority of which ran for the village to take refuge in their homes. One brushed past Ekkill as he trod along, not even bothering to attack or even acknowledge his presence. Ekkill would return the favor. He knew where the savage was going, and he knew it wasn't going to save him.
"Finish those weaklings off, and get the torches lit!" He commanded.
A single arrow took flight from a port in the side of one savage's home, flying close enough for Ekkill to feel the wind beside his chest displaced. Ah, this game again. This time, however, the ground was much more open, and once the archers massed together, they would present a problem, at least until the torches set fire to the houses.
Taking cover behind a thick stump, Ekkill waited for his men to catch up.
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