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Cold. Dark. Broken.
The bench beneath him was barely splinters clinging to rusted iron nails, crudely hammered spikes even more so hammered into the wooden frame. Despite the cramped quarters with other bodies shivering against each other shoulder to shoulder, he could still see his every breath, not feel his fingers or toes, and no matter how tightly he wrapped the ragged black cloth that was his robe around his otherwise naked form, could not stop from shaking.
Between the poorly sealed boards of the floor both light and wind rushed through, the only illumination that lit the full range of his sight, albeit only others in rags in all directions of every age and shape, all walks. Past those boards was white emptiness, a well lit void past the limits of his eyes stretching down to nauseating clear, crisp depths of bright nothing. The gentle whistle and woosh of the forceful breeze pushing in on them all from outside implied drifting, or even falling, accompanied by the same inertial vertigo in the pit of his chest and stomach, his inner ear exhausted from panicking over the hours immersed in the sensation. Or was it days? Years?
Unfortunately the breeze carried no scent of its own, or if it did, it did nothing against the mass of people crammed into the creaking wooden canister, some crying and sobbing quietly, others wretching and dry heaving, all shaking in the unconquerable ever-penetrating cold, each breath sharp with the bite. Everything he could feel ached: his lungs, his eyes, his knees, his stomach, his head, his heart. With one quivering hand he reached up from the bench upon which he sat and pressed several fingers against his chest, as if to ease the pain. No resistance. Only the robe stopped his hand from sinking into his chest past his ribs.
"My heart..." trembled what was left of his voice over cracked blue lips.
The cloth crunched faintly beneath the weight of his hand, as if the very fibers of the dry cotton were frozen stiff. Rough and dusty, the material took the top later of skin off of the heel of his palm as he pushed harder, half in disbelief and half morbid curiosity about what should be a spattering wound pouring his life into his lap. As he reached towards the hem to peek, his worry overpowered by the very question that had been gnawing on him he froze. The form slightly to the left of his place in the mob of figures turning to face him directly in the dull slatted light.
"Your heart? What's wrong?" came the voice of a young woman cradling a bundle of rags in her arms. She was fairly shorter than the rest around them, skin as white as winter clouds and overcast silvery blond hair to match. With her hood up and shape enveloped in the black rags it was hard to discern much more at a glance.
"It's gone." he shivered, and pulled the cloak tight around himself once more.
"Just the same for us all." she replied with impressive calm and firmness. Her lips pursed into a hard fought smile as she began gently rocking the bundle tightly against her chest. "You're in good company."
Her words faded into the sudden creaking that overtook the entire chamber. The small bit of warmth faded quickly, sapped away into the atmosphere, the pressure from between the floorboards easing off as the noise increased. Everyone shifted and swayed, several stumbling into each other with nowhere to fall. The entire structure shuddered and groaned, straining against something, and abruptly thunked several times into perfect silence. Every soul aboard froze, listening intently. The rattle of chains being wound and unwound and more clunking from the far side of the room specifically ominously signified a drastic change in the uncountable expanse of existence they had all been sharing. The woman did not turn, did not fall, and did not even turn her attention, wholly focused on maintaining her quiet dance with the bundle that squirmed against her in the excitement.
At first it was but a sliver of light over everyone's heads on the far wall, and slowly, ever so slowly the opening grew to shed more and more brightness across the crowd, tattered and trembling, the wall seeming to drift away out of sight. With one final thud there was silence again, hung in the air no one dared breath lest catastrophe befall them all, like hunted animals in that moment of their hiding spot discovered, frozen in the spotlight of the new opening. The pressure of people smashed so tightly together in a claustrophobically small space began to lighten, more and more venturing first to the cusp and then into the overwhelmingly brilliant light. Cautiously, sheepishly, the room emptied down to standing room, and he took advantage of this, rising from the bench nearly last, the woman and a few others in the back with them now able to attend to their curiosity. The stinging of his eyes as they did their best to adjust after so much darkness for so long began to distinguish chains to either side of the top of the square hole in their decrepit cell, trailing down to suspend a drawbridge door out of the wooden pit, nearly 20 feet out to a solid structure of carved stone blocks the size of hay bales. Taking one last look back into the dark he noticed the woman directly behind him, suppressing a short gasp at how quietly she had stayed on his heels. With that, he stepped forth into the light.
☆ ☆ ☆
Across the planks of the drawbridge began to take shape fairly quickly through the blur of adjustment, revealing a massive stone block wall towering up what must've been a hundred or so feet, maybe more by his guage, no windows or doors except the archway before him nearly as tall as the bridge was long, another bridge length of stonework leading up to it. The blocks were built down underfoot several tens of feet before disappearing, an overhang but not unstable or precarious, no vegetation in sight. Four, then three people still lingered outside the gate before him as he stepped off the bridge between the two stone columns that reached his shoulders and served to anchor the bridge tightly, and with foot on solid ground he turned back to inspect the wooden cage he had spent so questionably long within, trapped like packed foodstuffs in a barrel of grain.
It was a massive ship, a galleon not tethered and with no masts, and no waves beaneath it, floating perfectly in place as if part of the stone structure. There were no doors or windows save other drawbridges further up, five that he could count on this side, staggered at an upward angle towards the bow. There was no crew visible either, nor a soul to be seen otherwise, but he knew in his bones those other floors were packed with rag-bound misfortunates as well, freezing and frozen, destined for another port. Turning on his heel he pressed forth into the archway to discover what lay beyond.
"A village square?" mumbled a male voice from just past his left shoulder, the small group behind him stopping to take in the sight. The threshold path gave way to cobblestone and cold iron fence, leading down to a courtyard with a fountain. Cobbled buildings littered the space between this archway and another opposite, the wall circling in a small town of what could be a thousand or so, yet not a soul to be seen aside from the tattered passengers poking about, exploring buildings, drinking from the fountain, picking flowers and food from gardens, and otherwise making themselves at home. "What castle could this possibly be so far from home?"
He was a large man at around 6'5, clearly beyond muscular even in the draped rags that obscured most of their bodies. As he pulled back his hood he exposed salt and pepper black hair, fairly short and messy, a scar over his right eye but both in tact and taking in their surroundings.
"I'm just glad to have some sunshi-..." the mother trailed off, having realized that dispite the mid-day demeanor of the village there was in fact no sun, not a single cloud, and little specs in the sky above with what appeared to be chains cascading down past the horizon.
"Somethings not quite right. Let's keep moving." the large man replied and trudged forward towards the fountain, our heartless man and the mother cautiously behind him with a nod each. The relief and security of emerging from the ship into such a cozy and well fortified oasis was almost overwhelming, the scent of soil and flora, the prospect of beds and food, the lack of gallows or guillotine that greeted them. Passing the fountain the water was clean and cold, and he once again pressed against the hole in his chest, rags soft from the pleasant temperature even after just five minutes walk. After pausing for a moment to test it, and watch a group of tattered young boys splash and throw each other into the cool water under the tall angelic statue centerpiece, he hurried a few steps so as not to be left behind by the two. Just as he made pace with them the rattle of chains began again, and a giant protculis came crashing down into their arched entryway. Few seemed to notice and their exit remained clear, and so they pressed on, resisting the nagging urge to join the rest in the pleasantries, perhaps find a fire pit and a pot, scavenge a garden and taste food once again. Months? Years? How long had it been since they had eaten anything at all? How was it any of them could even stand, nevermind run, play and frolic?
When the first gut shattering scream rang out and broke the merriment, they had reached halfway between the fountain and the far arch. The three, their fears confirmed that it was indeed too good to be true, broke into a full run towards the arch, only turning once standing firmly within the passage through the wall.
The closest man was a good hundred feet away, one foot over the fence, rags snagging on the cold iron spikes that topped the posts, tugging hard as slender, androgynous winged humanoid calmly walked towards him. It's shadowy grey skin was barely detectable against the backdrop of stone buildings like smoke against clouds, completely bare and unclothed, silent in each step between the every growing screams of pain and terror. Upon reaching him it did not hesitate, reaching out shoulder length to wrap it's talons around the man's neck and left him off the fence, his feet dangling down to just above it's knees. What appeared to be a jagged smile across it's face broke wide, inserting the man's head effortlessly into its mouth and simultaneously grabbing his right arm with its at the wrist, and in one fluid motion severed the majority of his neck, his body jolting as his nervous system involuntarily reacted to the spinal trauma. One, two more chomps and his head came clean off, not a drop of blood at all through the act, body falling to the ground as much as it could, slipping out of its left hand but still held up by his right arm, finally still. It proceeded to chew his skull, taking it's time, occasionally swallowing masticated grey matter and finally spit into its free hand twice, something round, shiny and silver.
With a wink and a flutter of wings it dropped the husk of the man and turned back towards the rest of the village, leisurely stolling on to find it's next victim. The eye contact, even for just that split second, was enough to cause a shiver in the two as the mother pulled down her hood with one hand. A blindfold of the same black rags covered both of her eyes, her skin patchy with half healed burn wounds.
"What is it? What happened?" she gasped, concerned but hardly panicked. "I can't hear anything but screams."
"Angels?" the large man seemed unsure of his own assessment.
"Horrible winged man eating beasts." confirmed the shorter man, hand to his chest once more. "I don't intend to stick around and meet them."
"But what of the others who arrived with us!?" she asked, almost indignant in tone.
"Even the big guy here would struggle with more than a couple."
"Mmm.. hmf." he didn't seem to like that diagnosis but didn't disagree either. "At this point the most we can do is pray for them. Lets get past the wall and find cover, we'll wait for any survivors who struggle free."
With that the three turned to exit gingerly, on to come face to face with one of the winged creatures, arms outspread in a welcoming gesture, snake-like tongue slithering and flicking about as if tasting for their emotion. Up close it's skin was rough like sandpaper, standing three or more feet taller than their tallest companion, eyes pitch black, grey hair trailing long down its back, thin and whispy as it's owner. Lean and disproportionately lanky, even the mother beside him seemed like she weighed more, tiny as she was.
As it stepped forward the two men did not hesitate. Launching himself into the air the smallest of the two ran forward two steps and planted both his feet square into its chest, staggering it back a step, reeling backward in an inhuman curl with its wings fully spread to keep its balance, the bigger laying a combo of jabs and a hook into its center mass best he could reach while the former got back to his feet, and both retreated five feet, giving the creature extra space to account for its extensive reach. The creature sputtered and gasped and flipped back to proper upright, it's smile returning as if unaffected. Slowly, purposefully it tilted its head back to face the top of the arch, several eyes opening across it's recomposed slate feathered wings, and it's mouth parted. Coughing and gurgling messily something shiny protruded and slowly extended up from its mouth, and it grasped it in its right hand. The sound of steel grinding gently echoed forth from its maw and throughout the passageway, the screams dull in the background, a long slender blade eventually clearing its jaw. First light erupted from the spine of the single edge and then flame, enveloping the entirety from guard to tip, almost dripping down the curve to its point. It snapped its head forward once more on long enough to see knuckles, the large man ramming an uppercut directly into its jaw, it's head flipping even further back from the strike, spine crunching audibly. Before the noise had a chance to echo, it's left hand shot up and around the mans neck, too close to swing its sword with much effect but burns. Now suspended, the man instantly mirrored the action and placed his right hand around its slender neck easily, his left around its slim right bicep, planted both his feet on its chest and twisted hard, pulled, then twisted and pulled again, tearing its weapon wielding appendage off from its torso in a mess of bone fragments and oily black blood, splatter painting the stone walls when it threw him back into the smaller man and flailed, covering its new wound best it could with its remaining hand and shrieking and gurgling in torment.
"Bones as brittle as any bird," he chuckled, peeling the claws off the handle of the flaming sword as he rose to his feet. "But damn their skin is rough."
Having regained it's composure the creature turned back on the man who had taken its limb, taking a step forward and leaning in crouched close, mouth opening to bellow with rage but cut short as the flaming blade passed easily in a horizontal cut from its left temple, across both eyes and out the other side, bisecting it's head effortlessly. As it reeled back instinctively, but a split second too last, the sword changed direction, scraping against and instantly melting the surface of the stone underfoot, slicing upwards into its barren and bare crotch, abdomen, meeting zero resistance in its ribs to exit its left shoulder, making less than equal halves that convulsed and spewed pitch black life on to its other halfs on its way down to the ground, no longer moving by the time it landed on its back.
"Move." he said sternly, barely breathing hard as he followed his own command, taking only a brief moment to smash out the corpses teeth and drag a long wooden sheath from its neck, sticky with unnaturally dark blood, the many eyes of the wings glazed over, no longer even staring into nothing. Grabbing the mother's free left hand gently with his right, the shorter man led her along after the big guy who seemed to know his way around his newly acquired item, sheathing it easily while moving, even with the flames. Beyond the arch stretched seemingly endless wasteland, sandy grey dirt with parched sagebrush-like bushes, gentle rolling hills, and the stone wall stretching out of sight in either direction behind them. After a minutes jog down the dirt road that greeted them they reached a rocky outcrop, taking shelter behind the boulders and loose rubble, catching their breath before peeking over to watch for survivors. Keeping tally in the nearby sand as one after another came barreling out of the gateway, one hand once again tracing the hole in his chest, he counted 141 escapees, men, women, and the occasional child, the other man flagging them down as they ran, waving them over with the only possession any of them had.
The bench beneath him was barely splinters clinging to rusted iron nails, crudely hammered spikes even more so hammered into the wooden frame. Despite the cramped quarters with other bodies shivering against each other shoulder to shoulder, he could still see his every breath, not feel his fingers or toes, and no matter how tightly he wrapped the ragged black cloth that was his robe around his otherwise naked form, could not stop from shaking.
Between the poorly sealed boards of the floor both light and wind rushed through, the only illumination that lit the full range of his sight, albeit only others in rags in all directions of every age and shape, all walks. Past those boards was white emptiness, a well lit void past the limits of his eyes stretching down to nauseating clear, crisp depths of bright nothing. The gentle whistle and woosh of the forceful breeze pushing in on them all from outside implied drifting, or even falling, accompanied by the same inertial vertigo in the pit of his chest and stomach, his inner ear exhausted from panicking over the hours immersed in the sensation. Or was it days? Years?
Unfortunately the breeze carried no scent of its own, or if it did, it did nothing against the mass of people crammed into the creaking wooden canister, some crying and sobbing quietly, others wretching and dry heaving, all shaking in the unconquerable ever-penetrating cold, each breath sharp with the bite. Everything he could feel ached: his lungs, his eyes, his knees, his stomach, his head, his heart. With one quivering hand he reached up from the bench upon which he sat and pressed several fingers against his chest, as if to ease the pain. No resistance. Only the robe stopped his hand from sinking into his chest past his ribs.
"My heart..." trembled what was left of his voice over cracked blue lips.
The cloth crunched faintly beneath the weight of his hand, as if the very fibers of the dry cotton were frozen stiff. Rough and dusty, the material took the top later of skin off of the heel of his palm as he pushed harder, half in disbelief and half morbid curiosity about what should be a spattering wound pouring his life into his lap. As he reached towards the hem to peek, his worry overpowered by the very question that had been gnawing on him he froze. The form slightly to the left of his place in the mob of figures turning to face him directly in the dull slatted light.
"Your heart? What's wrong?" came the voice of a young woman cradling a bundle of rags in her arms. She was fairly shorter than the rest around them, skin as white as winter clouds and overcast silvery blond hair to match. With her hood up and shape enveloped in the black rags it was hard to discern much more at a glance.
"It's gone." he shivered, and pulled the cloak tight around himself once more.
"Just the same for us all." she replied with impressive calm and firmness. Her lips pursed into a hard fought smile as she began gently rocking the bundle tightly against her chest. "You're in good company."
Her words faded into the sudden creaking that overtook the entire chamber. The small bit of warmth faded quickly, sapped away into the atmosphere, the pressure from between the floorboards easing off as the noise increased. Everyone shifted and swayed, several stumbling into each other with nowhere to fall. The entire structure shuddered and groaned, straining against something, and abruptly thunked several times into perfect silence. Every soul aboard froze, listening intently. The rattle of chains being wound and unwound and more clunking from the far side of the room specifically ominously signified a drastic change in the uncountable expanse of existence they had all been sharing. The woman did not turn, did not fall, and did not even turn her attention, wholly focused on maintaining her quiet dance with the bundle that squirmed against her in the excitement.
At first it was but a sliver of light over everyone's heads on the far wall, and slowly, ever so slowly the opening grew to shed more and more brightness across the crowd, tattered and trembling, the wall seeming to drift away out of sight. With one final thud there was silence again, hung in the air no one dared breath lest catastrophe befall them all, like hunted animals in that moment of their hiding spot discovered, frozen in the spotlight of the new opening. The pressure of people smashed so tightly together in a claustrophobically small space began to lighten, more and more venturing first to the cusp and then into the overwhelmingly brilliant light. Cautiously, sheepishly, the room emptied down to standing room, and he took advantage of this, rising from the bench nearly last, the woman and a few others in the back with them now able to attend to their curiosity. The stinging of his eyes as they did their best to adjust after so much darkness for so long began to distinguish chains to either side of the top of the square hole in their decrepit cell, trailing down to suspend a drawbridge door out of the wooden pit, nearly 20 feet out to a solid structure of carved stone blocks the size of hay bales. Taking one last look back into the dark he noticed the woman directly behind him, suppressing a short gasp at how quietly she had stayed on his heels. With that, he stepped forth into the light.
☆ ☆ ☆
Across the planks of the drawbridge began to take shape fairly quickly through the blur of adjustment, revealing a massive stone block wall towering up what must've been a hundred or so feet, maybe more by his guage, no windows or doors except the archway before him nearly as tall as the bridge was long, another bridge length of stonework leading up to it. The blocks were built down underfoot several tens of feet before disappearing, an overhang but not unstable or precarious, no vegetation in sight. Four, then three people still lingered outside the gate before him as he stepped off the bridge between the two stone columns that reached his shoulders and served to anchor the bridge tightly, and with foot on solid ground he turned back to inspect the wooden cage he had spent so questionably long within, trapped like packed foodstuffs in a barrel of grain.
It was a massive ship, a galleon not tethered and with no masts, and no waves beaneath it, floating perfectly in place as if part of the stone structure. There were no doors or windows save other drawbridges further up, five that he could count on this side, staggered at an upward angle towards the bow. There was no crew visible either, nor a soul to be seen otherwise, but he knew in his bones those other floors were packed with rag-bound misfortunates as well, freezing and frozen, destined for another port. Turning on his heel he pressed forth into the archway to discover what lay beyond.
"A village square?" mumbled a male voice from just past his left shoulder, the small group behind him stopping to take in the sight. The threshold path gave way to cobblestone and cold iron fence, leading down to a courtyard with a fountain. Cobbled buildings littered the space between this archway and another opposite, the wall circling in a small town of what could be a thousand or so, yet not a soul to be seen aside from the tattered passengers poking about, exploring buildings, drinking from the fountain, picking flowers and food from gardens, and otherwise making themselves at home. "What castle could this possibly be so far from home?"
He was a large man at around 6'5, clearly beyond muscular even in the draped rags that obscured most of their bodies. As he pulled back his hood he exposed salt and pepper black hair, fairly short and messy, a scar over his right eye but both in tact and taking in their surroundings.
"I'm just glad to have some sunshi-..." the mother trailed off, having realized that dispite the mid-day demeanor of the village there was in fact no sun, not a single cloud, and little specs in the sky above with what appeared to be chains cascading down past the horizon.
"Somethings not quite right. Let's keep moving." the large man replied and trudged forward towards the fountain, our heartless man and the mother cautiously behind him with a nod each. The relief and security of emerging from the ship into such a cozy and well fortified oasis was almost overwhelming, the scent of soil and flora, the prospect of beds and food, the lack of gallows or guillotine that greeted them. Passing the fountain the water was clean and cold, and he once again pressed against the hole in his chest, rags soft from the pleasant temperature even after just five minutes walk. After pausing for a moment to test it, and watch a group of tattered young boys splash and throw each other into the cool water under the tall angelic statue centerpiece, he hurried a few steps so as not to be left behind by the two. Just as he made pace with them the rattle of chains began again, and a giant protculis came crashing down into their arched entryway. Few seemed to notice and their exit remained clear, and so they pressed on, resisting the nagging urge to join the rest in the pleasantries, perhaps find a fire pit and a pot, scavenge a garden and taste food once again. Months? Years? How long had it been since they had eaten anything at all? How was it any of them could even stand, nevermind run, play and frolic?
When the first gut shattering scream rang out and broke the merriment, they had reached halfway between the fountain and the far arch. The three, their fears confirmed that it was indeed too good to be true, broke into a full run towards the arch, only turning once standing firmly within the passage through the wall.
The closest man was a good hundred feet away, one foot over the fence, rags snagging on the cold iron spikes that topped the posts, tugging hard as slender, androgynous winged humanoid calmly walked towards him. It's shadowy grey skin was barely detectable against the backdrop of stone buildings like smoke against clouds, completely bare and unclothed, silent in each step between the every growing screams of pain and terror. Upon reaching him it did not hesitate, reaching out shoulder length to wrap it's talons around the man's neck and left him off the fence, his feet dangling down to just above it's knees. What appeared to be a jagged smile across it's face broke wide, inserting the man's head effortlessly into its mouth and simultaneously grabbing his right arm with its at the wrist, and in one fluid motion severed the majority of his neck, his body jolting as his nervous system involuntarily reacted to the spinal trauma. One, two more chomps and his head came clean off, not a drop of blood at all through the act, body falling to the ground as much as it could, slipping out of its left hand but still held up by his right arm, finally still. It proceeded to chew his skull, taking it's time, occasionally swallowing masticated grey matter and finally spit into its free hand twice, something round, shiny and silver.
With a wink and a flutter of wings it dropped the husk of the man and turned back towards the rest of the village, leisurely stolling on to find it's next victim. The eye contact, even for just that split second, was enough to cause a shiver in the two as the mother pulled down her hood with one hand. A blindfold of the same black rags covered both of her eyes, her skin patchy with half healed burn wounds.
"What is it? What happened?" she gasped, concerned but hardly panicked. "I can't hear anything but screams."
"Angels?" the large man seemed unsure of his own assessment.
"Horrible winged man eating beasts." confirmed the shorter man, hand to his chest once more. "I don't intend to stick around and meet them."
"But what of the others who arrived with us!?" she asked, almost indignant in tone.
"Even the big guy here would struggle with more than a couple."
"Mmm.. hmf." he didn't seem to like that diagnosis but didn't disagree either. "At this point the most we can do is pray for them. Lets get past the wall and find cover, we'll wait for any survivors who struggle free."
With that the three turned to exit gingerly, on to come face to face with one of the winged creatures, arms outspread in a welcoming gesture, snake-like tongue slithering and flicking about as if tasting for their emotion. Up close it's skin was rough like sandpaper, standing three or more feet taller than their tallest companion, eyes pitch black, grey hair trailing long down its back, thin and whispy as it's owner. Lean and disproportionately lanky, even the mother beside him seemed like she weighed more, tiny as she was.
As it stepped forward the two men did not hesitate. Launching himself into the air the smallest of the two ran forward two steps and planted both his feet square into its chest, staggering it back a step, reeling backward in an inhuman curl with its wings fully spread to keep its balance, the bigger laying a combo of jabs and a hook into its center mass best he could reach while the former got back to his feet, and both retreated five feet, giving the creature extra space to account for its extensive reach. The creature sputtered and gasped and flipped back to proper upright, it's smile returning as if unaffected. Slowly, purposefully it tilted its head back to face the top of the arch, several eyes opening across it's recomposed slate feathered wings, and it's mouth parted. Coughing and gurgling messily something shiny protruded and slowly extended up from its mouth, and it grasped it in its right hand. The sound of steel grinding gently echoed forth from its maw and throughout the passageway, the screams dull in the background, a long slender blade eventually clearing its jaw. First light erupted from the spine of the single edge and then flame, enveloping the entirety from guard to tip, almost dripping down the curve to its point. It snapped its head forward once more on long enough to see knuckles, the large man ramming an uppercut directly into its jaw, it's head flipping even further back from the strike, spine crunching audibly. Before the noise had a chance to echo, it's left hand shot up and around the mans neck, too close to swing its sword with much effect but burns. Now suspended, the man instantly mirrored the action and placed his right hand around its slender neck easily, his left around its slim right bicep, planted both his feet on its chest and twisted hard, pulled, then twisted and pulled again, tearing its weapon wielding appendage off from its torso in a mess of bone fragments and oily black blood, splatter painting the stone walls when it threw him back into the smaller man and flailed, covering its new wound best it could with its remaining hand and shrieking and gurgling in torment.
"Bones as brittle as any bird," he chuckled, peeling the claws off the handle of the flaming sword as he rose to his feet. "But damn their skin is rough."
Having regained it's composure the creature turned back on the man who had taken its limb, taking a step forward and leaning in crouched close, mouth opening to bellow with rage but cut short as the flaming blade passed easily in a horizontal cut from its left temple, across both eyes and out the other side, bisecting it's head effortlessly. As it reeled back instinctively, but a split second too last, the sword changed direction, scraping against and instantly melting the surface of the stone underfoot, slicing upwards into its barren and bare crotch, abdomen, meeting zero resistance in its ribs to exit its left shoulder, making less than equal halves that convulsed and spewed pitch black life on to its other halfs on its way down to the ground, no longer moving by the time it landed on its back.
"Move." he said sternly, barely breathing hard as he followed his own command, taking only a brief moment to smash out the corpses teeth and drag a long wooden sheath from its neck, sticky with unnaturally dark blood, the many eyes of the wings glazed over, no longer even staring into nothing. Grabbing the mother's free left hand gently with his right, the shorter man led her along after the big guy who seemed to know his way around his newly acquired item, sheathing it easily while moving, even with the flames. Beyond the arch stretched seemingly endless wasteland, sandy grey dirt with parched sagebrush-like bushes, gentle rolling hills, and the stone wall stretching out of sight in either direction behind them. After a minutes jog down the dirt road that greeted them they reached a rocky outcrop, taking shelter behind the boulders and loose rubble, catching their breath before peeking over to watch for survivors. Keeping tally in the nearby sand as one after another came barreling out of the gateway, one hand once again tracing the hole in his chest, he counted 141 escapees, men, women, and the occasional child, the other man flagging them down as they ran, waving them over with the only possession any of them had.
