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[i]Drink.  Rend.  Reap.[/i]

The goblin was skewered with such force that the hilt of the Black Sword hit the creature's abdomen.  For a split second before death, that goblin would come eye to eye, nose to nose with Baphomet's Champion.  In this moment, with red eyes full of pain and fear, and green eyes full of rage and hatred...

It was difficult to tell who the monster was.

"...Rrrgghaaa!" Zell lifted the goblin off the ground slightly as he kept pushing and charged a few steps into a group of corrupted tribesmen.  A two-handed grip switch to one-handed and he smashed his fist into the ugly green face of the lifeless corpse that slid off his sword.  The sequence saw him spin, his green cloak whirling into the face of one tribesman, temporarily blinding the wall-assaulter, while Zell freed his sword in time to block an incoming strike from another.  They could not resist him.  One by one, he put them all to slaughter.  All who stepped to him.

While it looked like Zell was an invincible wrecking ball, racking up a kill score worthy of a professional Call of Duty player, upon closer inspection, one would see that the brand-new steel pieces of his armour were full of nicks.  The leather parts were full of cuts, some stained with Zell's blood.  His aggressive approach - (that had progressed to careless and now full-on beserker) - was not without it's drawbacks.  Fortunately for him, Zell had always been a meathead gym-bro.  He was strong and tough, and this magical world had saw fit to accentuate those characteristics of his.  But it was not just his front line adventurer Class that was powering him now.  With every day that passed, it would seem that the Oblivion Prince of Might saw fit to dripfeed Zell more of his power.  The angrier Zell got, the easier it was to ignore pain.

Unbeknownst to the Captain of the Lions, things had gotten hairy on the wall, with the sheer weight of numbers beginning to crush the retreating defenders.  Sure, Zell had heard the orders for the tactical retreat, but he was not about to bother himself with the overall strategic picture of the battle.  As long as The Lions were to stay on the wall, Zell's only concern was killing.  And so Zell did not notice that when the defensive line was stretched too thin and the Right Wing were ordered to close ranks with The Centre, friendly faces were nearby.

"!!!" When he saw Fenna, it was like static-shock sounded off in his brain.

All of the anger drained from his face and he stared at the Captain of the Falcons for second as he started to realise all of the important things about who he was and why they were in this situation.  It actually amazing that he'd even forgotten - or maybe 'shoved into the very back of his mind,' would be a more appropriate phrasing.  He had friends, he had a mission to figure out why they were all in this world.  He had mother, a sister, a father... he was a goofball macho dumbass.  He was halfway in love.  How had all this so easily just faded into distant memory?

"Agh!" Quick reflexes, but not quick enough.  He'd grabbed the wrist of the dwarf and stopped the dagger going into his waist too deeply, but nevertheless it pierced flesh.  Notably, it actually hurt.

Zell managed to twist and drive his sword into the dwarf, whose strength waned quickly after and Zell was able to pull the dagger free from his waist.  "Dammit."

No time for standing around staring.  Back into the fighting.  But now with sobriety.  He had a city to defend.  He had his Lions to lead.  He had friends to see at the end of this.