Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190303210034/@comment-27550231-20190328053736

Forcing his way through the ranks the Warden made no friends from the commanders and their men. To them he might as well have been a glory seeker going to the front simply to wet his blade then dissapear when his task was done.

He did not mind this. He did not mind the glares or reprimands. He had a duty, a purpose to make his way to the front and do his best to hold the hordes back and ensure that at least one more man would return home.

"Alright Celestine. Start funneling me your strength."

As Jorge made his way through the final ranks he held his mace to the heavens and down came a thin ray of light catching the tip of the flanged kudgel imbued it and its wielder with renewed vigor. He slammed his shield down filling a gap in front of him and braced as the beasts slammed into him, his mace coming down with equally great ferocity.

He did not know what these creatures were nor did he care for them. All he cared about was his rythm, up and down up and down. The battle became a chorus of flesh and steel and cries as the world faded around him.

Had it been this long? This peace... such serenity... such bliss. Jorge continued with his rhythmic swings crushing all beasts that dared trod near him. Each successive strike leaving less and less of its victims until eventually he felt as if he were swatting flies and after that the air.