Throw Down
Viking Axe throwing is an art. You have to expertly time your throwing arc, so the razor-sharp, curved axe-head finds its mark. It takes months – even a career of years – to become proficient at it. The Commander of the VARYAG Org, Major Magda Jovanovic, has laid down a grueling practice schedule for her team members. All combat soldiers must complete at least three hours per day throwing their axes under the scrutiny of a number of “Masters” she’s selected from the ranks.
While there’s always some grumbling from the rank-and-file, the necessity of both the weapon and their ability to effectively use it dawns on the entire VARYAG Org sooner rather than later.
It’s an event that just happened, as sometimes things do. A surprise from the Universe just to test mankind to see if they’re still taking fate seriously and understand who’s really boss. Or, perhaps, it was an exquisitely executed probe launched by VARYAG enemies.
In Montenegro, the VARYAG are hardly a best-kept secret. They’re everywhere – in business, pulling police chestnuts out of the fires of criminal confrontations that get out of hand – being the relief-valve of law and order everywhere. One of Major Jovanovic’s best young – Pagan – Special Ops, Commander of a Wolfe-Pack Unit – named Captain Vladek Kyrshk, is asked to lead a team of six VARYAG toughs to back-up a four-man State Police raid on a Roma car smuggling ring in a remote, mountainous region of Montenegro called The Prokletije Mountains (translated: The Accursed Mountains). These mountains are located in the country’s southeastern region along its borders with Albania and Kosovo and have always been a wild, untamed place infested with Roma outlaw gangs and criminals. It has been a hot bed of cross-border smuggling since the time of Ancient Rome.
The Roma gangs in the Prokletije range aren’t known for their fighting prowess or preference for gunfighting, so Montenegrin State Police Units don’t bother armor-up. VARYAG units, in contrast, are fully kitted-out with bullet-proof vests, sidearms, axes, body cams and HQ-monitored radio comms. That’s how they roll.
The terrain is rough – and VARYAG Humvee save the State Police bacon when their squad car bogs down in the muddy, rutted dirt roads. Finally, in a small village named Vusanje, the teams find themselves wandering through doorway after doorway of abandoned stone-walled buildings. Whatever Roma gangs the State Police thought were there are long gone.
In a nearby Katun, however, they find a small male child huddled behind a pile of felt bedrolls. Katuns are nomadic shepherd cabins, extremely unsuited to human habitation for any stretch of time. The child is wheezing and crying, filthy and smeared with blood. State Police officers succeed in getting the child to choke out a few words of Serbian.
“They came to get us at night. I hid. The Gypsies brought them. They took my sisters. They had tall wolf-men with them….their mouths had big teeth…and there were men with them in black coats with long hair curls by their faces, wearing funny hats.”
The child keeps saying that his Mommy and Daddy ran away because they didn’t know what happened to him. He had gone to the Katun to see a dog he was hiding there. His parents didn’t like the dog, but he did. What happened to the dog?
“The wolf-men killed him and threw him in the woods…”
Sure enough, about twenty feet away from the Katun is a mutilated small brown dog carcass.
Captain Vladek Kyrshk sizes up the situation within minutes and calls it in to VARYAG HQ in Podgorica. Within the hour a VARYAG six-man Investigative Unit is in a helicopter, fully armed, heading to Vusanje, Commanded by Major Magda Jovanovic.
Her words to Captain Kyrshk are ominous:
“Beware of Wampeer….”
Heinlen hears about the event from Major Jovanovic while she is airborne enroute to Vusanje. His orders are succinct:
“Recon only. Don’t engage any forceful opposition without backup. Keep your Comms open – I want to listen….”
Major Magda Jovanovic and her team land after about an hour of flight time. Captain Kyrshk is waiting – obviously agitated.
“We found the village residents in that drainage ditch across the field. Twenty-seven people were massacred – throats torn open. We have the little boy safe. Looks like a Vampyre pack raided the place – with help from Simeon Khazars. There are no dead children were in the ditch. They took the kids, probably to harvest them for Adrenochrome and then let the Vampyres bleed them out for food.
I wasn’t aware the Simeon Khazars had an operation in these mountains – we’ll have to locate and destroy it.”
Magda Jovanovic scans the terrain. It’s quiet. Too quiet. She makes up her mind immediately – and speaks slowly.
“Alright, Captain Kyrshk….this is what we’re going to do. We’re going to walk back to your vehicle and our chopper….nice and easy…..We’re going to take the child and leave. FAST!
This is a TRAP! Bosnians use this same trick. We’re going to be machine-gunned. Back away from this ditch right now….. MOVE YOUR ASS!”
Major Jovanovic, Captain Kyrshk and their men get barely ten feet away from the ditch when the machine guns start. They drop and crawl as earth and splinters of vegetation churn up all around them. They get to the Katun where Kyrshk’s men found the little boy and take cover. Major Jovanovic hand-gestures to everybody to get to their vehicles by crouching along the stone building foundations on the opposite side of the dirt road and slowly start making their way.
The four State Police Officers – obviously never having been in a combat firefight – get up and run frantically down the middle of the dirt road towards the VARYAG Humvee. They’re cut to ribbons by machine gun fire within seconds.
Suddenly, a group of Roma men with hunting rifles comes out of the forest about fifty feet away from them and start shooting at them, working their aged bolt-action guns as they bob and weave through the tall weeds.
Captain Kyrshk’s six men liberally spray the weeds with AK47 fire and keep moving towards their Humvee. The Roma men don’t have a prayer’s chance of avoiding the AK bullets. Gradually, any machine gun fire in the distance fades off and the whole place goes quiet. The Humvee is dead ahead – and Major Jovanovic’s helicopter is in a football field-sized clearing behind it, safely nestled behind a stand of aged Pines.
Captain Kyrshk and his men fire up the Humvee and made tracks back down the mountain. They can hear the Major’s helicopter rotors gaining speed and altitude right above them.
Everyone will debrief at VARYAG HQ in Podgorica in a few hours. Heinlen will join via ZOOM.
Everybody breathes easier.
Five minutes later there’s a explosion that turns the Humvee over on its side. The detonation slams Captain Kyrshk’s head against the passenger side window and throws his six companions into each other, leaving them upside down and pinned inside the vehicle under the weight of their “kit” and weapons.
Kyrshk shakes his head as violently as he can stand to clear his head and eyes. The light flash from the blast has blinded him – all he can see are blinking bursts of colors and shadows. His driver is moaning – some piece of the military vehicle has crushed inwards and has pinioned his left leg. The steering wheel is forcing itself into his rib cage, crushing his sternum. Kyrshk screams into his Comms-link audio feed –
“MAYDAY!! MAYDAY!! EXPLOSION!! WE’RE INSIDE OVERTURNED HUMVEE. MAN DOWN!! IED ROAD MINE – I REPEAT, IED ROAD MINE. SEND EXTRACTION TEAM…SEND HELP….”
Kyrshk strains to see out his still-foggy eyes. He’s aware of shadows moving outside – and fading daylight. His men are pulling themselves upright from their twisted, Gordion Knot configuration. The Humvee’s frame and body shell panels are reinforced against “Improvised Explosive Devices” – IED’s. As vehicles go, they’ve picked a good one to get blown up in.
But then he smells gasoline. It’s either leaking out of the Humvee or they’re being doused with it by enemies to cook them inside. Even though his eyes are for shit, Kyrshk starts yelling orders.
“EVERYBODY – SOUND OFF YOUR NAMES AND CONDITION. CAN ANYBODY REACH A WORKING DOOR HANDLE?? THE WINDOWS ARE BULLETPROOF BUT WE’RE GOING TO BE SET ON FIRE…KICK AT THE DOORS!! KICK AT THE DOORS!!! GET YOUR WEAPONS READY FOR WHATEVER’S OUT THERE IN THE SHADOWS……”
A VARYAG OP in the back – named Jacyk – yanks the driver’s seat backrest and pulls it free from pinning the driver’s chest. With that, the driver’s leg also comes free. It may be broken but at least they’ll get him out. Somebody else kicks a door open and jumps out. Everybody is scrambling away from the gas-drenched Humvee, their brains on high-alert for attackers. Captain Kyrshk is out, his arm wrapped around his battered driver, frantically dragging him away with every ounce of strength. Everybody gets about twenty feet away from the vehicle when it bursts into flames, lighting up the inky-dark dusk all around them.
And there – in the murk of nighttime descending on them like a thick blanket – they see blazing red eyes.
Vampyres. At least six.
Kyrshk barks out orders – over his open Comm link so HQ can hear his situation and respond – and use the signal for a GPS fix to send Helicopter gunships to assist.
“KEEP MOVING DOWN THE ROAD – THOSE EYES GET CLOSER SPRAY ‘EM WITH BULLETS. KEEP YOUR AXES READY FOR A HAND-TO-HAND FIGHT – SWING FOR THROATS AND FACES. IF A VAMPYRE GOES DOWN, HACK ITS SKULL AND MOVE ON. WE CAN DECAPITATE THEM LATER…”
Five of his men aim their weapons all around them as they hustle down the dirt road while Captain Kyrshk limps as fast as he can as he drags his driver. The young man, named Jon Barna, is now coughing up blood and clearly in pain. They need a chopper extraction – fast. Kyrshk yells into his Comms link and doesn’t let up.
“MAJOR JOVANOVIC AND HQ – WE ARE IN HARM’S WAY – GPS MAP OUR SIGNAL AND SEND AN EXTRACTION TEAM GUN SHIP ASAP!!! WE’VE GOT A MAN DOWN – REPEAT MAN DOWN!! HUMVEE IS DESTROYED. WE’VE GOT LOW AMMO – OVER – PLEASE COPY!!!”
Within minutes everyone is on a jet-black dirt road without a full moon.
The eyes are stalking them. Dogging them. Making them keep moving – and get even more exhausted. Kyrshk and his men are prey.
Then Kyrshk sees them. Fifty feet up the road. Six tall, hooded and – obviously – aggressive Suckheads. And they’re each hefting an Egyptian Kopesh – the curved combined scythe-sword combination from the days before the Pyramids were built. The Vampyres are taunting them, weaving and writhing in place, doing their bizarre snake dance and hissing routine to signal their thirst for combat.
‘EMPTY YOUR MAGZINES INTO THEM – WAIT FOR MY ORDER – THEN RUSH ‘EM WITH AXES….WATCH THEIR BLADE HOOKS….SWING YOUR AXES HARD AND USE KARATE FOOTWORK TO KICK THEM OFF BALANCE…ONCE YOU IMPACT THEM, DROP TO A KNEE AND HACK AT THEIR LEGS TO CUT MUSCLES, THEN NECKS, ARMS AND FACES…..NOW FIRE AT WILL UNTIL YOU RUN OUT!!!!!”
Major Jovanovic hears this all as her chopper screams towards Kyrshk’s GPS coordinates – they’re at least fifteen minutes away. She calls for another helicopter gun ship to back them up – but time isn’t on their side.
“CAPTAIN KYRSHK – OUR ETA IS FIFTEEN MINUTES. HOLD ON AND EVERYBODY BREAK YOUR FLARES TO BLIND THE SUCKHEADS AND GIVE US A TARGET….WE’VE GOT A 50MM CHAIN GUN, LOCKED AND LOADED WITH SMOKER ROUNDS. HANG ON!!!”
Kyrshk orders his men to strike their rescue flares – then start firing. The red magnesium blaze is so bright, the Vampyres start falling back, covering their faces. The flares burn out in minutes, providing only momentary diversionary value. The AK47s ring out – until they stop.
Their ammo is used up.
Kyrshk is racking his brain, standing in the dark and holding his comrade. It’s just him – and five other VARYAG fighters who have just emptied their AK47’s “Brown Bakelite” magazines. That means they shot Vampyres with standard Warsaw-PACT 7.62 X 39 ammunition.
Bullets that are useless against Vampyres.
“Green Bakelite” magazines are packed with “Vampyre-smokers” – Zinc-Metallic Sodium-Sulphur salted bullets that burst into chemical fires as hot as the Sun when they contact Vampyre blood. Why did the VARYAG fighters pack standard ammo? This was a Montenegro State Police back-up mission; Roma car theives were supposed to be their prey – not Vampyres.
Kyrshk and his boys are up shit’s creek without a paddle here. These Vampyres can see in the dark – the VARYAG can’t. They’ve got their axes in their belts – and their dicks in their hands.
Kyrshk knows on thing: THEY’VE GOT TO BUY SOME TIME!
They’ve got to hold out until Major Jovanovic can rip that .50 Caliber helicopter chain gun into these Suckheads. Out of a crazy desperation, he screams out to the six Vampyres, still standing and writhing in place even after taking a shit-load of 7.62 X 39 rounds – flaunting how impervious they are to the gunfire. Swallowing hard, Kyrshk strolls out into the open and screams at the top of his lungs in the most insulting voice he can generate.
‘HEY – HEY YOU BUNCH OF UGLY MOTHERFUCKERS!!!! YEAH – YOU, YA’ VAMPYRE DOUCHEBAGS!!!!!
YOU CALL THAT HOMO WIGGLE YOU’RE DOIN’ DANCIN’???? YOU DANCE LIKE YOU TAKE IT IN THE ASS!!! YEAH – YOU LIKE IT IN THE ASS, DON’T YOU????? YOU’RE A BUNCH OF CHOCOLATE-PIPE SODOMITES, AREN’T YA??????
WE’LL SHOW YOU DANCIN’, YOU BLOOD-SUCKIN’ FREAKS!!!! WATCH AND LEARN!!!!
CHECK THIS OUT!!!!”
Kyrshk starts bustin’ moves – writhing and shaking out a combination of every frantic and drug-fueled dance move and contortion he’s ever seen in person, on TV and in every Bollywood Indian movie. He signals the guys to join him – quickly.
Soon, the VARYAGs are humpin’ and jumpin, jivin’ and writhin’. They’re going’ at it so energetically, Kyrshk barely hears the low drone of a helicopter approaching. His crazy gambit – confusing the Suckheads with a “Dance-Off” – has bought them precious time.
Finally, the Vampyres have enough. Their lizard brains just can’t take it anymore. They loudly hiss like snakes and move forward, swinging their Khopesh blades back and forth in classic desert-fighting provocation.
Kyrshk knows – it’s time. He sets his wounded companion down on the dirt and leads from the front.
“LET’S GO!!! RUSH ‘EM – NOW!!!! AXES OUT FRONT!!! SLAVA RODNYA!! TIL’ VALHALL!!!!!!!!!”
Major Jovanovic watches all this from the sky – and she’s now lighting up the action with her helicopter landing lights. She catches the last few minutes of the “Dance-Off” and mutters out loud, “What the Fuck is that?”
Jovanovic watches Captain Kyrshk charge into the Vampyres, axe in hand. At the last second of his sprint he drops down – “slides into home base” like in an American Baseball game. In an amazingly graceful swing he brutally connects his axehead with a Vampyre’s knee joint and cleaves it completely through. The Demon creature falls and then gets Kyrshk’s axe in his face.
A VARYAG fighter right behind Kyrshk doesn’t fare as well. A Vampyre feints left – then spins right and buries his Khopesh deep into the guy’s shoulder and chest. The man is a goner.
Jovanvic watches as the men – trained thoroughly with their Viking Battle Axes – struggle to control their arc swings in the heat of battle. They make significant hits, but the Vampyre Khopesh is reigning supreme. The Vampyre’s ability to thrust and then instantly hack – and hook – human flesh is devastating. Her observations are soon confirmed.
A big VARYAG fighter uses his Axe handle to block a Khopesh attack and then pivots to the right. His body momentum causes the Khopesh blade edge to dislodge itself from the hard ash Axe handle and scrape down to the man’s hand, slicing it savagely. The fighter falls, dropping his traditional Viking weapon grabbing at his ripped-open hand.
But on the ground he regains balance and executes a tuck and roll in the dirt -straight into the Vampyre Kyrshk has just killed. His hand lands on the Vampyre’s Khopesh.
The VARYAG soldier gets on his feet – his hand bleeding profusely – and starts wielding the Khopesh. Soon he gets the hang of it – and hooks his attacker-Vampyre’s weapon, pulling it out of its hand. He swings the scythe-blade in a devastating arc straight into the Vampyres’ mouth – and then spins to regain his footing. He immediately whirls about and hacks at another Vampyre’s legs.
Soon, too, that Vampyre is headless.
Major Jovanovic is shocked. What is unfolding before her in real time is clear: the Khopesh is more adaptable as a single-handed and two-handed edged weapon than the Viking Axe. Viking Axes are a better throwing weapon – but Mano-a-Mano? It’s Khopesh, hands down.
Big-bodied men with hearty upper-body strength can wield the Khopesh with both of their hands, like a broadsword – maximizing their momentum – to steal advantage over an opponent. And most of their VARYAG boys are big-bodied men. Even physically fit women who spend time in a gym can appreciate the unique attributes of the Khopesh. At the very least, Jovanovic opines, her VARYAG fighters should have the option of using the Khopesh.
Jovanovic uses the Helicopter PA system to clear off the fighting field so she can chain gun the remaining two Suckheads with 50 Cal. “Vampyre Smoker” rounds. Within twenty minutes, Captain Kryshk’s men – and two fallen comrades – are safely inside a back-up gunship helicopter following Major Jovanovic’s own chopper, heading to HQ in Podgorica.
The Major sends the digital record of their skirmish to Heinlen immediately and adds her own commentary:
“Our VARYAG men demonstrated ingenuity and bravery. But each one is coming home with a Vampyre’s Khopesh. It’s clear to me they’re right: the Viking Axe we’re using isn’t optimal in hand-to-hand combat against the unique physical attributes of the enemy we’re facing.
Please ask Per L’Enfant to find out who is the current Master of the Khopesh.
We must hire him to train our cadres in the use of this weapon. We must master the weapon of the Vampyre. With respect, Hetman – I am making a field decision: In the future I want to give my people the option of using the Egyptian Khopesh.
I trust that Per L’Enfant, Xen-Chen and Dirk Fremd can spearhead this program, being masters of all blades in their own right. I’m sure they have an intimate familiarity with the Khopesh.
Thank you.”
*NO PART OF THIS WORK PRODUCT IS AI GENERATED*
Copyright, 2026 – Jon Croft
www.bogironfoundry.com
Email: vlchek1@gmail.com
