(Featured Story in Spanish) Ardith Cuthberht is the daughter of the powerful duke of Harzburg. When she was a girl she lost her beloved mother and as a grown lady the man she loved was sent to battle in far away regions. One day Ardith found a seve...
Under a coal dark sky, both armies clashed in brutal combat. The first row didn't hold for too long, crumbling under the unearthly vampire strength after the first strike. What seemed to be a major breakthrough as they implemented this outlandish strategy that by all means was a preconceived suicide move, yet in the end it was everything they've got, alongside a futile ray of hope. In the field, the clanging sound of iron blades wielding marked with vehemence the pace in which the battle was driven. Both Christian soldiers and demons fought to death, having the Germans the worst part. It was dying fighting, or dying running, but dying anyway in more or less an honorable way.
One by one, the poor miserable fell in a raw and bloody fight; the fight between good and evil. With ultimate savagery, the swords brandished. Banging after banging, the metal resonated, but no human could ever gauge his strengths with a raging vampire. Christian soldiers were butchered and shortly outnumbered and the undead made their way, moving swiftly amongst the now scarce ranks of the Holy Empire Armada.
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Like flies, men fell after being deadly wounded; their skulls, and bones crushed under the heavy armor like crystal. With tremendous speed and supernatural skills, the creatures bounded high in the air to land over and knock down some unfortunate soldier who would suffer a terrible death. The vampire army kept moving, implacable killing with their swords, with their spears, with their mazes... with their bare hands. Once they killed they only stopped to feed on their victims and after sucking the last drop of blood, the undead rose growling, their mouth opened revealing their long, sharp fangs dripping the dark Crimson liquid.
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From the rear Edmund watched with consternation mounted on his blood-spattered white horse, the way his soldiers were reduced to a pile of bodies and limbs and blood scattered on the field. He had so much faith on the efficacy of the strategy, and even though a considerable amount of blood-sucking fiends was vanquished, it was not enough. Holy water, fire and sacred oil worked only only when a vampire was hurt, and in a body to body fight, it was almost impossible. For each one vampire, ten soldiers perished. They only grew stronger and stronger, moving forward determined to kill each and every human on their path to claim their dominions back.
