Wardenheart

Fury

The hot rush of adrenaline, the grip of the blade in my hand, the cool anger than roared through me, the decisive strike as I slashed at the horrific abomination that challenged me, it was all too familiar.

It blocked with its lanky arm, sacrificing it to steel. It roared, not in pain, but in rage as it lunged at me with its ancient, abused weapon.

I barely had time to block with my own sword, knocking its blade to the side for only a brief moment of respite, but its first strike would be its last. Quickly I redirected the blade to cut through its neck. This would be over quickly.

The cut was quick, decisive, and not enough. In a fit of stupidity, or raw hatred, or whatever passed for emotions in this monster's mind, it gave itself willingly to the blade's cutting line, bowing its helmeted head to deflect the sword with its scrappy plate armor. Though my blade found some purchase in its flesh, it ultimately glanced off the top of its head, sending us both reeling backward.

I was quicker in recovery than it, however, and in this final moment, I readied myself, charged and thrust through the creature's sparsely armored torso. He pulled backward out of instinct, but I followed, knocking it to the ground. Only a fraction of a second past before it cried out at last and gave up its corrupted life.

I stood, withdrawing my blade from the creature, and wiped the sweat from my brow. I focused on my unsteady breathing, the pounding of my heart in my chest, and in that moment, I was reintroduced to combat, to the exacting of justice upon evil and darkness.

"Jolly?" I asked, looking around. In that moment I realized that I had not, in fact, seen him since I had hidden behind that shelf. Instantly, I began my search, fearing for his safety.

I began to walk quickly around the store. It seemed only to be one floor in size, so I ran little risk of being in the entirely wrong place. I checked behind the counter, behind racks of clothing, and behind shelf after shelf, to no avail.

It was then that I spied a door, the only place I had not yet looked. The muffled sounds of screaming coming from within prompted me to open it immediately, my blade at the ready.

Jolly, held down by several monstrous claws, was being eaten. The disturbingly thin, faceless creatures of the dark sunk their teeth in to him, tearing him apart with no weapon other than their bodies.

"This is a good one, isn't he?" one of them asked, before I struck it down with one swift cut.

"What the hell? I thought the captain was supposed to take care of this guy! Kill me, you maggot! Kill me!" another one cried, jumping at me suddenly, almost knocking me over, but instead finding himself impaled on my sword.

For reasons unknown, the others will still focused on killing Jolly, but I wasted no time in killing them. With blood still in their mouths, they fell dead, as they should.

Anger coursed through me as I saw him. His clothes were ripped, torn, and bloodied. I could see it on his face: fear. I had only seen that expression on monster hunters before, and on some veterans from the war, but I thought I would never have to see that stare, those tears that they would silently cry, ever again.

"They took me by surprise, scrag." He said quietly. He then looked at me, eyes still unblinking.

I sheathed my bloody sword and helped him up. He did not seem to be hurt badly, but the trauma that came from being powerless and being eaten alive... what could they have possibly wanted?

I leaned him against me and we walked out of what appeared to be a supply closet, but on second viewing I could see where exactly the vile things came from: a trap door in the floor.

"We gotta move, scrag." Jolly said. "No tellin' when more're gonna show. We gotta get to the greenhouse."

I set him down on the ground, looked at him, and slapped him in the face.

"Get yourself together." I whispered to him. "We are leaving this place, and we are going back home. You are in need of medical attention, I will be damned to the hells before I move forward with this fool's game."

He then pointed to the front of the store, across which several shadows moved slowly, decisively. There were more of the creatures, many more.

"Must've heard us." Jolly said very quietly, slowly trying to stand up. "The trapdoor, that's where I tried to hide, it's got a whole tunnel system under there. We could hide in there, maybe not die."

I looked at the bloody closet, and I looked at the forms of the despicable aberrations that darkened the doorway. We were trapped, and I was the only one who could really move.

"We shall take the trapdoor, and make our escape." I decided, helping him to stand up. Once again leaning him against me, we traversed the short distance back to the closet, made more difficult by my injured companion. Once inside, I closed the door behind us, leaving us in the dark, or so I thought.

Suddenly, a red light shone in the darkness, the origin of which came from my sheath. Drawing my sword, I noticed the blade shined bright red in the black of the closet, the shape with the two diagonal lines and the circle, the symbol marked upon my palm, was the source.

Though it looked remarkable, it was not the time to gawk at the strange properties of my mysterious blade. I sheathed it wordlessly and sat Jolly down on the ground.

"What're ya doin', scrag?" he asked impatiently. "We gotta move quickly."

I set to work picking up one of the monsters' dead bodies. I planned to barricade the door behind us to aid in our escape, but the creature merely crumbled in my hands like autumn leaves.

I left behind the idea of blocking the door behind us and turned to the trap door. With only a strange lurid light to guide me, I picked up Jolly, and once more plunged in to the unknown.