Demonic Knight, part 14

Jasmine watched as the great cannon blasted the third breach in the city wall, then decided enough was enough. They had to save powder for the next fortification they came to, and the gaps were big enough for their soldiers to squeeze through. The defenders were tired and bewildered, so the time had come. She signaled to the bugler, and he sounded the advance blast. Marching to the beat of the human-skinned drums, the beastmen sprang into motion.

Jasmine felt the thirst for blood rise within her, and with it, her desire to offer souls to the god of Wrath. She that night she would make him a great offering.

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Elysia watched as the tide of beastmen surged across the grounds, and archers began firing from the ramparts. They chose their targets calmly, methodically, and efficiently, and fired. Arrows pierced the darkness, piercing chests, throats, and bestial eyes. As the infernal drums beat, the relentless bloodthirsty beastmen continued to advance, chanting their foul god's invocation to the music.

His hand gripped the hilt of his sword deftly, and he felt useless crouching there behind the parapet while others busied themselves fighting and killing advancing enemies. His heart was beating faster in her chest, his breath coming in short gasps as if he'd run a mile, and she had to fight the feeling of panic. She knew that very soon it would be time to descend to engage in combat, but for now she had a vantage point from which to observe the fight.

In the distance she saw that the demoness in black armor urged them to advance. She looked like a demonic goddess from the dawn of time who had come to collect a tribute in blood and souls.

He saw a goat-headed beastman fall, his legs caught in the jaws of a bear trap, and watched as his companions did not even slow down, but continued forward and trampled him, until he became a bloody pulp under iron-shod hooves. The casualties seemed unaffected and they showed no sign of fear. Perhaps it was true that they were soulless demons, immune to all normal emotion, or perhaps they simply knew that her chance for revenge would soon come.

The beasts were almost on top of them now, and Catgirl could see the reflection of flames in their fiery eyes and the bloody froth on their lips where they seemed to have bitten their own cheeks and tongues in frenzy. She could perceive the stench of humidity and dirty fur that those beings gave off; she could almost make out the crude runes etched into her various weapons.

Archers on the wall were shooting their last arrows to catch their swords and axes, and some were already descending the ladders to rejoin units of axemen on the ground between the buildings.

Some came down from the platforms on which they were perched, hanging by the arms and letting themselves fall from the little distance that separated them from the ground.

"Come on, Elysia," said Frey. "It's time for blood to flow."

Elysia forced her cramped legs to move, and it seemed she needed some time to get them to obey her.

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Jasmine smiled as the beastmen quickened their pace and entered through the gaps opened by the great canyon. He heard the sound of guns clashing on guns, steel on steel, as his soldiers engaged the defenders of the fortification, and he touched his knees to the flanks of his steed, which responded instantly, and led her forward. the fray

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Elysia parried the beastman's ax blow, feeling as if the impact was going to dislocate her arm. She dropped to one knee and launched an upward thrust, catching the attacker by surprise, digging in below the ribs and the blade of the ancient magic weapon penetrating her heart. Pulling her sword free, she leaped back, just in time to avoid being felled by a ranger and beastman locked in deadly hand-to-hand combat. The two of them fell to the ground in front of her, grunting with the strain of their struggle.

It was obvious to the catgirl that, in time, the beastman's superior strength would trump that of a half-breed like her, and for a moment she watched, aghast, not knowing what she should do, not wanting to just slash at him. middle of the fighters. At last, she made a decision: she drew her dagger with her left hand, fell to her knees, and stabbed into the beastman's broad back. He stood up and gave up the fight, howling in pain, and as he did so, Elysia lopped off his head with her sword.

The human he had saved stood up and nodded his thanks to Elysia. He was the pale-faced boy the catgirl had seen on the parapet, and she barely had time to respond with a shrug as another wave of beastmen charged at them. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard the thunderous sound of horse hooves.

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Jasmine charged into the mass of bodies around the central entrance as she struck out with her infernal sword, killing a name with each thrust. The horse stamped on the wounded, who fell under its hooves, neighing triumphantly as the scent of blood reached its nostrils. Jasmine rode comfortably on the saddle, for she knew that nothing could resist her.

"To me!" she yelled her.

The beastmen fell back around her, forming a wedge that drove their human opponents back into the streets of the village. Behind, the reinforcements entered, which began to flood streets and alleys. Jasmine felt triumphant, as she would be offered many souls, screaming, to the Lord of Battles.

Her sense of triumph diminished slightly as her horse gave a beastly bellow, and looking down she saw an arrow protrude from one eye. Even in its death throes, the animal, with extraordinary discipline, did not rear or try to pull her from her, but instead rolled onto her haunches to allow her to jump from the saddle.

A searing anger washed over Jasmine, for Shadow had brought her all the way from the far north, and it would not be easy for him to find another steed of hers. She swore that whoever killed him would pay with her life, even if she had to personally wipe out every living thing in that dung heap. And then a smile appeared on her lips, revealing her wickedly sharp fangs, and then a mad laugh gushed from her throat. She was only swearing that she would do what she had already decided long before the battle began.

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Elysia stopped in the shadow of a building and looked around her desperately. Her breathing had become a harsh gasp, her clothes were soaked with blood and sweat, and her sword arm had gone numb. Where was Frey? They had parted moments before the battle, when the fury of the action had prevented him from noticing anything else.

In that instant, she had a moment of respite, but she didn't see the Dark Hero anywhere. She knew that it was important to find Frey, her own chances of survival would increase dramatically in the presence of Frey's mighty sword.

Around her, all the buildings were on fire, and they gave a hellish illumination to the scene. The battle continued amid billowing clouds of foul-smelling smoke, and Elysia saw shadows of beastmen battling the ghosts of human warriors in the mist. She could hear the roars of monsters, the screams of the dying, and the clash of weapons. All trace of formation had been lost in the midst of the fray, and it was only a matter of kill or be killed.

From some distant place she thought she heard Frey's war cry, and she mustered strength and courage to force her legs to move in the right direction. She offered a short, hopeless prayer to any god who would listen, asking them to protect her, the Frey, Kat, and everyone else, and then suddenly wondered where the child was.

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Lost in the howling madness of battle, Kat saw no escape. She hadn't wanted to stay inside the temple because she knew doing so was a death sentence. She needed a place to hide from the beasts, but she hadn't found it yet.

She stepped aside and crouched behind a rain barrel, near which two young men were grappling with a beast. One held her legs while the other blew her brains out, hitting her skull with a large rock. Ella kat ella had never witnessed anything like it, and the sheer ferocity of it was appalling. All the contestants seemed to be possessed by a kind of insanity that drove them to acts of monstrous cruelty and lunatic bravery. No mercy was given or asked.

A great tide of warriors streamed down the main street, swept away by their own fury and her bloodlust, and the screams of dying men and beasts filled the air. The crash of steel on steel echoed through the burning night, and the muddy earth, churned by the feet and hooves of the combatants, became slippery with blood.

A beast let out a howl of triumph as it skewered a man with his spear, the howl turning into a bellow of fear and anger as the man's friend tore the beast to pieces. A circle of men surrounded a lion-headed giant, and as he reached for one of them, another leaped from the side he had no view of and stabbed him. Before long, he was bleeding from a dozen minor cuts and, with a furious roar, he charged at the nearest warrior, whom she knocked down with his tremendous weight; in this way, she broke the circle and escaped into the fray.

Kat almost screamed when she saw the black armored woman walking out of the crowd, because she feared the Demonic Knight had come looking for her. But, then, Frey appeared from the side and got in the way. The woman growled, baring bloodstained fangs, and she dealt the dark hero a sword blow that turned the weapon into a blur too quickly for the eye to follow. Kat didn't know how Frey had managed to get his sword in the path of the blade, but she did, and the black steel slammed into the blue star metal, sending sparks flying in the smoke that filled the air.

The dark hero responded to the woman's attack, and the greatsword shot out at her with the irresistible force of lightning. The woman ducked and lunged, but somehow the dark hero's weapon appeared where it belonged. They both stood there, fighting each other, weapon against weapon, heroic strength against demonic might.

Neither of them gave in. Huge cords of muscle bulged from Gotrek's arms and shoulders, sweat pouring down his face, veins bulging on his neck and forehead. The woman stood as still as an ebony statue. It seemed that the armor was glued to her body; his pale countenance was a bone-white mask, a frozen image of bloodlust, and the whites of her eyes were gone, now glowing like red balls of fire.

The seconds passed at full speed and the two remained locked in titanic resistance; both were unable to move the other. Out of the corner of her eye, Kat saw a host of beastmen approaching, rushing into battle with the clear intent of slaying the dark hero. Without thinking, the girl shouted a warning, and Frey turned his eyes to the side the moment the beastmen reached him.

At the last moment, the dark hero took a step back, parrying a blow that would surely have split him in half. Kat was afraid the black-armored woman would take the opportunity to plunge her sword into her, but she needn't worry. The battle mark swirled around the combatants, and the Demonic Knight and the dark hero were dragged into the fray and separated; At that moment, Kat breathed a sigh of relief.

She then realized that the woman was staring at her. She raised her eyes to meet his red gaze, and her heart nearly stopped. He wanted to scream, but when she opened her mouth no sound came out of it, and she started forward.