James briskly walked outside of the temple's deceivingly humble cave entrance to discover a massacre. His men, not the feeble barbarians, laid torn apart on the ground as if devoured by wild animals. James' eyes squinted in rage, whereas any other man's eyes would widen in terror. James' tunnel vision focus on the bodies of the deceased evaporated as he heard the muffled screams of horror to his left. He glanced over and saw a mountain of a man, clad in animal skins, lifting up James' General, Alan Windback by the neck. James had always thought that his General was a sizeable man, a good 6 feet tall, but he was utterly dwarfed by the size of this enemy barbarian. What was once a man of excellent stature was now a man that resembled a bullied child. Alan Windback was hand picked by James for his family’s past loyalty to the crown, a trait frequently found more and more lacking by the pompous nobility of Eldenbrough. This General who was once the envy of the entire military might of Eldenbrough looked pleadingly and hopelessly at James as his neck was snapped like a twig, shooting blood everywhere like a popped tomato. This thing had just decapitated him with his hand alone.
“What is the meaning of this!” James shouted, almost in a shriek, raising his sword toward the savage.
Laughing, it scoffed “More play things!” without a thought the beast threw the body of Alan Windback toward James, which he swiftly ducked under, only for the decapitated limp body to slam into the horrorsticken knights behind him. James charged at it in an irrational and uncoordinated sprint, barely holding footing over the men’s limbs that once hailed him. James had one thought and one thought only booming, neigh, throbbing through his head, “You shall die!”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
James closed the distance in seconds as the monster placed itself in a battle ready posture, equipping a massive two handed axe. James slid on the ground and cut at its ankles, narrowly avoiding a devastating axe blow. Each moment that James engaged with this enemy was a moment in which he could perish.
“I am Boudawin!” it yelled as it haphazardly swung in all directions, each time grazing James. Luckily for James this brute’s might was matched by his dexterity. Unluckily for James it took one fatal error and all would be lost. James had to end this quickly and he immediately found his opening for attack. After Boudawin swung out of his power zone James slashed at Boudawin’s chest. Boudawin stopped and took a step back. Hot blood sprayed throughout the immediate surroundings of the two. James let his guard down, dropping his shoulders, assuming that the beast had been slain. Turning around he faced his men and raised his sword into the air.
“That felt good,” it laughed pleasantly. James barely turned to face it as he was bludgeoned into the air and across the battlefield. James had no emotion, no more hatred, no more anxiety. He thought this was how he would die. He muttered “Okay.”
James slammed into the opposite hill of the temple. Almost paralyzed it took every fiber of his being to move, let alone stand up. Fed up with the theatrics his honor guard sprang into action and charged at Boudawin. For minutes all James could hear were the screams of terror as his most trusted men rushed to their deaths merely to buy James time. Without warning James was grabbed by two of his men, dragging him away toward the safety of their lines. With consciousness fading James heard Boudawin yell out over the sound of limbs tearing.
“I am death and I am here for you!”