The wind carried a foul stench—blood, burnt fur, and ash.
Vanthelis knelt beside the disturbed soil where they had concealed the trap just hours ago. It was crude but effective. A shallow pit hidden beneath scattered leaves and dirt, lined with sharpened wooden stakes, each carved hastily from nearby branches. Jayson had done well with the limited tools they had.
"Ready?" Vanthelis asked quietly.
Jayson gave a subtle nod, his hands dirty from working the earth. "The trap's done. Nothing sharp enough to kill outright, but once they fall in, they're not getting out."
Vanthelis's crimson eyes flicked toward the base ahead—visible through the thinning trees. The gnoll camp, a mess of crooked wooden shacks and scavenged metal, sat in eerie silence. Smoke still lingered in the air from the fire the leader himself had started. The scent of charred flesh was faint now, but the horror of it hung in the air like fog.
They had spent nearly an hour preparing the ambush. Now, Vanthelis, Haben, and Jayson crouched behind the natural brush and waited.
"See those twenty over there?" Vanthelis whispered to Haben, pointing to a scattered group of gnolls milling around the edge of the base, some gnawing on bones, others pacing restlessly.
Haben squinted. "Yeah. Mostly young adults. Barely alert."
"I want you to run toward them. Make noise. Get their attention—but don't get caught. Lure them to this side." Vanthelis's tone was calm but held a simmering fire underneath. "Jayson and I will be waiting here. Once they're on the trap, we finish them."
Haben smirked slightly, then tightened the grip on the short blade at his hip. "Got it, Milord."
Without further words, Haben bolted from cover, letting out a taunting whistle as he emerged into the clearing. "Hey, you mutts! Come on then! Come get me!"
The reaction from the gnolls was almost immediate. Their heads snapped up, and a few growled in confusion. Then came the roars and snarls as they gave chase, their guttural barks echoing through the trees. Leaves crunched under their feet as Haben darted back toward the trap site, narrowly avoiding thrown rocks and crude spears.
Vanthelis and Jayson crouched low. The ground trembled slightly with the stampede of clawed feet.
Then—snap.
The lead gnoll disappeared with a scream, followed by another and another. Wood cracked, bones snapped, and the air filled with pained howls as several gnolls tumbled into the pit, impaled on the jagged stakes. Blood sprayed up from the trap's depths.
"Now!" Vanthelis barked, rising from his hiding spot.
Jayson hurled a rock at a confused gnoll still above ground, while Vanthelis surged forward with cold efficiency. His dagger slid into the throat of a stunned gnoll, and he kicked the dying beast aside before it could react.
Haben returned, catching another off guard with a sweeping slash. Screams filled the forest as the trio struck fast and mercilessly. One by one, the gnolls fell, either pierced by blades or shoved into the trap.
It was over in minutes. Bodies twitched on the forest floor, the pit now clogged with the dead and dying. Blood seeped into the dirt, and the air turned still once more.
Jayson exhaled sharply, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a shaky hand. "That… that worked better than I thought."
Vanthelis stood over the carnage, his expression unreadable. "It wasn't enough."
"What do you mean?" Haben asked, catching his breath.
"They're not the worst of them. The real threat is still inside that base. These were just the edge pieces."
Before another word could be said, a voice cut through the trees like rusted steel against bone.
"Well, well… clever little rats."
The three of them froze.
From the treeline across the camp, the tall, gaunt figure of the gnoll leader emerged. His limbs were long and wiry, his fur blackened with soot and dried blood. He moved with a strange, jittery grace—like a puppet tugged on too many strings. His eyes burned with a frenzied gleam, and though his frame looked fragile, there was a disturbing aura around him. Madness danced behind his twisted smile.
Behind him came his gnoll guards—not the weak and starving ones they had fought before—but hardened warriors. Unlike their leader, these gnolls were stronger-looking, some clad in mismatched metal armor, their claws stained with fresh blood. Their snarls were deeper, their movements more coordinated.
The leader sauntered toward the pit, where the broken bodies of his dead still groaned in agony.
"Thank you," he said with a toothy grin, sharp and yellow. "These fools were a liability. Always whining. Always looking for someone to blame. You saved me the effort of killing them myself."
Vanthelis stared, unmoving, as the leader's smile twisted further.
"And now," he said, raising his thin arm with an exaggerated bow, "as a gift in return…"
The gnoll's voice dropped to a menacing growl.
"I'll take your corpses."