In the midst of a fog, all is consumed. All sight, all sound and all sense of direction.
All that remains is the mind and its perceptions…
Golden eyes drew open, and glinted curiously. The lids, heavy with dark, red paint, struggled to lift away from each other. Far above the battle, thousands of meters in the sky, a lone black anthrowolf had appeared amongst a whirl of blue light. He drifted, like smoke, through the dense bank of cloud that engulfed him, motionless but for the gradual beating of his two vast wings.
The half-wolf, half-man circled, gliding as if he had escaped from some eerie dream. He lifted his head slowly from his chest and stretched his legs out behind him. Loose red ribbon trailed from his ankles, the dozens of golden piercings that ran along the edges of his ears clinked and chimed.
At first, all awareness was but a dim blur, and the anthrowolf struggled for a while with the immenseness of the clouds around him. He spun in the air as if unaware of gravity and unfurled great black wings from against his back. And then he turned to face the earth and as he spread his wings flat to soar his tail fanned out behind him, long and slender.
From the ground, distant screams of terror reached him, and he began to remember why he had appeared in this world. He sunk down slightly until the fray of noise began to level out - The whistling flight of the arrow, the shivering clang of swords against armor, the beat of thousands of hooves against the fields as thunder rolls atop the mortals.
The roar of the war-monster leapt up to meet him, and for a brief moment the wolf's eyes snapped wide open. His huge clawed hand leapt to his sword and his ears sat up atop his head.
The cloud around him began to thin; beneath him, he could see the battle now. The dark fur that coated his body was flushed red in the light of the fire. Again and again, the cries of desperate men leapt up into the heavens. Terrible, horrid sounds. The screams of the injured - fearful prayers howled into the sky.
His clawed hands now settled firmly around the handle of the long slender sword now. He drew it from its sheath in a graceful arc.
The warriors were tiny beneath him. He searched for a point of entry. And then – seemingly satisfied with his choice – tucked his wings tight to his body, and plunged.
The roar of the wind overtook all trace of the battle. He plummeted headfirst toward the earth, the ribbons ripping free from his heels as he hurtled in a downward spiral toward the earth.
There was a wave of movement in the ranks of men, like a shockwave had struck them. They had seen him coming. They had leapt back in a sudden panic.
Opening his wings a fraction, he curved up in a sudden line, now rocketing horizontally over the battle.
He could see clearly now a cluster of frightened men and wolves, surrounded by the enemy. They were exhausted, separated, and seemingly sensing that death would be upon them soon. They made no effort to escape, and one by one, they were falling to the blades of their foes.
Now the anthrowolf understood why he was called down to the battle. As an answer to a plea.
They had not seen him yet - the ones too busy defending themselves. The anthrowolf drew his wings out flat against the air. He lifted his massive haunches from back behind him and drew them up against his chest. A snarl of effort drew his lips back away from his teeth, exposing a fearsome row of white arrowheads.
He was almost upon the ground now, and he was still traveling at a massive speed. Those that he passed over were a blur of grey and red. He dropped a little lower. His wings dipped into the battle, carving a path of destruction through the ranks of soldiers as feathers strong as steel crushed all that stood in their path.
He then dropped, and slammed his hind paws into the earth. The men fell backward when he landed amongst them, grinding with a tremendous crash that strained his muscles like steel cords stretching, cracking the earth around him. His paws digging two long trenches in the earth, he tensed his legs and bounded foreword, hurling himself into the enemy lines.
Before a second had passed the foremost wave of men had already fallen to his blade, the next had staggered backwards. The anthrowolf reared to his full height, looming several meters above the mortals.
Swift and merciless, he struck again, swinging his sword far away from his body, and then bringing down through the soldiers in a brutal curve. Blood flew in grisly curtains as his blade swung from left to right with unchallenged power; he was a blur of black feather and fur.
A petrified cry struck up amongst the soldiers. They dropped their shields and fled. Those with horses turned them sharply away, and broke out into a breakneck bolt. They screamed to those ahead of them to run, to forget all their loyalty - that the wolf-god had arrived.
Without pursuit, the anthrowolf turned as he slid his sword away, to face those that had summoned him. He did not watch his enemies flee, nor did he listen. Instead, he looked down upon the men that lay beneath him.
It was a sorry sight that met his eyes. The wounded sunk to their knees before him. Their bodies trembled still with twang of the blade. They bowed their heads low to the ground, some lying on their sides, some curling - dying.
He lifted his nose to the sky and from his lips sprang a howl of warning. It rang out clearly across the battlefield, and almost at once, the forces parted and the entire enemy retreated across the plains, sprinting, galloping, and fearful of the wolven god.