Charles swung desperately with his hammer, lashing the werewolves with blows that shattered bone, splintered skulls, crushed ribcages and ruptured internal organs. Behind him, the human forces had gotten too close. The first sword scraped across the back of his armor with an evil hiss, and he pirouetted with terrifying speed, bringing his hammer across at head height to pulp the mans head like an over ripe melon, before turning around again to fling off a werewolf that had gained a hold on his back, flinging him loose with a shake, and crushing another one, driving its head down into its chest, somehow without managing to rupture the skull.

The six warriors finally reached him, but they too would likely pay the price. The first man to get a hand on the hammer never would know what hit him as a black mailed gauntlet lashed out to smash his face, and the hand slipped off his weapon. The next two hands to get ahold of it were slightly luckier. He couldn't crush them fast enough, so he improvised. The first man was still blinded from the pain of having most of the bones in his face broken by the squat goliath that had sucker punched him. Charles grabbed him by his arms, and lifted, straight up. Then he flung the man straight out. The impact was thunderous, three large men crashing together makes alot of noise, and when a fourth man, in plate mail no less, follows after them, it becomes even louder, as bone and flesh shred and splinter under the impact of nearly 300 pounds of man and metal. He put his hand on the hammer to heft it again. The humans and lycanthropes had learned discretion, and had since backed away from the brawl. Fighting this man was a fast way to die, and even their numbers hadn't stopped him from killing ten in the last minute or so. That made nearly 40 of their total number killed in the whole fight, and the man didn't even show the strain he was feeling. Blood flowed thickly down his face as the stress of so much exertion wore on his body. His skull felt ready to split open, horrendous pain shooting behind his eyes threatening to break his concentration.

"Gimme back my god damn hammer!" He had had a hand on it, but another of those mysterious warriors had run up and tore it from his grasp at a dead run. He leapt up, following the man as he ran, ripping the mace from his belt to bash the mans skull in. The daggers behind him finally seemed to give up the fight, dropping to the ground as he gave up concentrating on them, letting that stress off of his abused body. He caught the first of the soldiers leading him away from the battle and into the mages trap with ease, slamming his mace into the mans hip. The bone shattered, and he fell to the ground, crippled. The rest would likely be less fortunate, taking blows to whatever part of their body first exposed itself. He slammed one in the base of the spine, sending him spinning, and straight into a tree. Only 7 more to go before he got his hammer back, and really wreaked his vengeance on the surviving soldiers.