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Wren’s powerful blood. They pelted towards him, and
Wren was ready. He stabbed his sword into the ground
with ease and reached behind his back, to find yet more
items of mayhem strapped to him. He withdrew two small
rusted iron tubes, rusted from use and constant vampire
blood being coated on it. In the blink of an eye, the tubes a
catch on the tubes were release and from both ends of the
metal devices extended great and sharp iron spikes,
forming two vampire murdering javelins.
Wren unleashed them, the iron spikes of woe as he
liked to call them and launched them through the air; they
found their mark. The two javelins pierced the vampires
mid-flight and brought them crashing down to the ground,
impaling them in horrifying contortions into the cobbled
streets of the town center, occasionally slipping down the
spikes an inch or two, but never quite dropping.
Wren quickly ran over to them and detached two
bulbs of fresh garlic from the back of his belt.
‘Open wide, boys.’ He said, before spitting on each
bulb of garlic, then stuffing it in the vampire’s mouths, so