Juhani

I stand up, a soldier's blood dripping from my lips onto my white shirt. Pulling the back of my hand across my mouth, I gaze around me; more lucid now that my bloodlust has been satisfied. The moonlit courtyard is a study of chaos: men fighting orcs, civilians screaming as they run for cover or sit by their dead, burning boulders launched by outside trebuchets crashing down from the sky, sorcerous lightning dancing above; and me, a vampire, in the midst of it. I heard a voice. It had been faint, barely distinguishable from the din of war. A voice from my past, so familiar and kind that it caused me pain where swords and axes could not. I look at the raging battle, where a human champion in silver armor falls in a splatter of blood to one of our trolls. The beast, without pausing, continues on its roaring rampage toward the castle gates, orcs following in the path it cleared. There is the voice again, softer than before. It is coming from... there! Between the burning houses there is