Thread: Demonfall (RedOnesGoFaster and EverUndine)

The assault came with surprising swiftness, forcing him to take the first blow on his shield. Claws raked the steel bulwark and clattered over the boss, a second swipe making another pass that scratched at the painted sigil and dug a deep groove in the metal. The third strike... the third one, he was ready. With a grunt of effort the warrior swiped with his shield, batting away the ragged claw and sending the arm attached to it reeling back. It left his foe wide open, and there was no hesitation in him. The strike was swift, grimly satisfying in the way it carved a black gout across the abomination's torso, laying innards bare. It wailed its ragged death-howl, clawing at vitae in a desperate attempt to keep it from tumbling out, though tumble it did, dirtying the warrior's boots in black foulness. The finishing blow was two-fold a slam of the shield's sturdy rim into the screaming maw of the beast, and a stab that crushed through breastbone to puncture the foul heart. Stunned and gurgling, it crumpled to die in whatever manner it would. There was no time for even a breath. Another beast, some horror with too many arms and not enough eyes, had quit its feasting on the intestines of a battle brother and turned its attention on him. A wise choice, seeing as he was the head of this assault, though he reckoned it had more to do with a primal, sickening hunger for death than it did anything resembling tactics. It leapt at his back with an ear-rending shriek, something like half a dozen arms looping around to latch itself onto the warrior. A pity for the clever beast that he was no simple warrior. A short bark of rage leapt from his mouth. A simple, monosyllabic incantation. No sooner had the sound left his lips than he was wreathed in a roaring orange inferno. The flame made a quick burst outward from him, incinerating the spidery limbs of his foe and leaving the torso to fall in a blackened heap behind him. Bastard, he spat in a breathless tone, whirling to face his rear with shield raised. The battle - for this hall, anyhow - was more or less over. His men were mopping up the last of those demons who still fought, crushing the remaining resistance. After releasing a breath that he could swear he'd been holding for the whole of his life, Mage-Knight Commander Aldric Blackwold took a moment to simply get his bearings. The sword's song still rang in his breast, and he needed to have his head for the last leg of the battle to come. His suit of heavy, burnished plate and chain suddenly weighed on weary limbs, his longsword and shield falling limply to either side as his stance slackened. The tip of his blade was momentarily driven into a fallen enemy's corpse, leaving his hand free to wipe sweat from his forehead, fingers passing back over thick, wild hair that swept back over his shoulders in a curtain of stark blackness that stood out against the ragged crimson of his cloak. Hard green eyes stared out of weary sockets, hand scratching lightly at the short, neat beard that covered his strong jaw and encircled his mouth. Aldric had a reputation as a grim bastard, hard but fair and utterly unafraid to be blunt. It showed in his face, which looked to be cut from a block of iron with its sharp edges, heavy brow and blunt stub of twice-broken nose. A tall, broad man in his late twenties, some had reckoned the northerner handsome, a description he had little time for. So long as warriors followed him, he could be pig-ugly and be satisfied. The corpses of a dozen twisted fleshbeasts littered the floor of the stone hall, each more hideous than the last, black blood running in rivers between the bricks. Two of his own men lay dead, while six stood at his back, likely gathering their wits just as he did. One sat weeping over one of the fallen, hands clasped over his face as he moaned the name of his younger brother time and again. Harald, he cried, Harald please wake up, Harald please... it was useless, he'd been felled in the earliest fighting, his torso a half-eaten mess while glassy eyes gazed up at the ceiling, face frozen in that last instant of pure terror. Up, lad, Aldric rasped, taking those few steps over to plant a gauntlet-clad hand on his shoulder. There's naught to be done for 'im. His words went almost utterly unheeded, the man crying over his fallen brother as he lost himself to grief. Aldric's face tightened, as did his grip as he shook the man. Get up, damn ya. Ya wanna get the bastard what caused this mess, aye? He'd left four men behind him on this mad quest. Four good soldiers who'd pledged themselves to a northman known as the Iron Mage in hopes that he could do something. Four good soldiers who had lost their lives fighting the good fight. His ain't the only pyre we burn tonight, but we'll all need bleedin' pyres if we don't finish this. He was my brother! came the indignant cry from the weeping man, and Aldric's countenance grew hard as tempered steel, curt words booming in the small hall. Then avenge him, ya stupid sod! There was a shove, sending the younger warrior sprawling on his rear. Bloody divines, next I'll hafta re-learn ya what end of the sword does the killin'. The battle-mage whirled away from the weeper, reaching to his belt for a shining silver flask. A bracing swallow of dark whiskey burned its way down his throat before he replaced it, hand reclaiming his sword and flicking the black blood from it. A few long strides were taken towards the great iron door that stood before them, and he rolled his head on his shoulders, sizing it up. Once I bring this damned thing down, he started, licking his lips nervously, you leave the wizard to me. I don't want none of ya playin' hero, not with blood magic in the mix. Keep whatever friends he's got in there offa me long enough to stick him, and then we'll mop up. There was a murmur of agreement while his six remaining fighters, heroes all, formed at his back, the familiar rattle of sword, axe, spear and shield reigniting that fire in his chest. A fire that crawled up his arm, focused on his sword, and left him in a brilliant gout of blazing flame that smashed into great barricade before him, ripping it right off of its hinges and sending it cartwheeling into the belly of the beast, the clattering metal acting as their war horn. RED RUIN! RED DAWN! The mage-knight bellowed his words as he charged headlong into the room, leading his men to finish this grim task. BRING ME THEIR HEARTS!