First Blow – Alexander Lyre
Alex finished reloading the pistols with a snap, the rubies throwing a hateful sparkle across the field. The proud mouths of the dragons were slowly turn black from the hateful fire and noxious smoke they threw. The heavy balls blew out a knee from one, and a splatter of dried gore came from the head of the other. Alex’s teeth came out in a ruthless grin, while Wren moved to engage, obviously feeling aggression to be better than taking a quick breather. The grin grew tighter at the thought, and his palms itched again. Especially since the damn gecko was Wren’s familiar.
Alex could hear the smirk on the gargoyle’s unholy face behind, "Zealots came before you, and died, female, what chance do you think you have when your male counterparts all fell before the wrath of my master?" The damn thing was probably playing with his comrades. Alex snarled at the thought, and almost swung around to unleash a hail of heavy lead upon the thing, when a shadow emerged from the mist. First, it was a crossbow quarrel in the back of the corpse left still standing. The thing took two steps and collapsed forwards, and then Alex caught a glimpse of what had emerged from the mist.
“Oh, Hell.”
Instead of the hoped for cavalry, a demon flapped through the mist, moving a great speed and glowing. Alex’s pistols snapped up, leading the hellspawn for a deflection shot just in case it was hostile. It appeared that not all hostile forces were on the same side, as magical quarrels erupted against the gargoyles stone skin. The enemy of my enemy was not always my friend. He decided that was a threat for later, worth a special shot. He half turned and aimed the pistol in his left hand at the remaining undead crawling up. Alex could almost feel the twisted body slavering against its unholy bondage.
“I’ll clean up the last one, Wren. I think you would be the best one to keep an eye on our new… friend.” The pistol roared a moment later, spitting yet another heavy ball of lead to free the last tortured soul.
Alex finished reloading the pistols with a snap, the rubies throwing a hateful sparkle across the field. The proud mouths of the dragons were slowly turn black from the hateful fire and noxious smoke they threw. The heavy balls blew out a knee from one, and a splatter of dried gore came from the head of the other. Alex’s teeth came out in a ruthless grin, while Wren moved to engage, obviously feeling aggression to be better than taking a quick breather. The grin grew tighter at the thought, and his palms itched again. Especially since the damn gecko was Wren’s familiar.
Alex could hear the smirk on the gargoyle’s unholy face behind, "Zealots came before you, and died, female, what chance do you think you have when your male counterparts all fell before the wrath of my master?" The damn thing was probably playing with his comrades. Alex snarled at the thought, and almost swung around to unleash a hail of heavy lead upon the thing, when a shadow emerged from the mist. First, it was a crossbow quarrel in the back of the corpse left still standing. The thing took two steps and collapsed forwards, and then Alex caught a glimpse of what had emerged from the mist.
“Oh, Hell.”
Instead of the hoped for cavalry, a demon flapped through the mist, moving a great speed and glowing. Alex’s pistols snapped up, leading the hellspawn for a deflection shot just in case it was hostile. It appeared that not all hostile forces were on the same side, as magical quarrels erupted against the gargoyles stone skin. The enemy of my enemy was not always my friend. He decided that was a threat for later, worth a special shot. He half turned and aimed the pistol in his left hand at the remaining undead crawling up. Alex could almost feel the twisted body slavering against its unholy bondage.
“I’ll clean up the last one, Wren. I think you would be the best one to keep an eye on our new… friend.” The pistol roared a moment later, spitting yet another heavy ball of lead to free the last tortured soul.