The lines of soldiers fell, one by one. The giant Broding walked through their lines, as the only two opponents who could match him were engaged in a duel of their own. The white claws of Dragonclaw ripped through steel like it was mere crude wood, and no line of defense held him. And through the hole he tore came a constant stream of attackers, as the small group of soldiers was ripped apart from the inside. They had been able to resist for as long as they had only because of their excellent training, but with their leader exhausted and their troops outnumbered, it had only been a matter of time. Broding had only sped up the process of defeat by marching in himself, but he wished for this to end as soon as possible.

Lord Polvark himself was surrounded by a group of his elite guard, highly trained men who would protect him from any threat. As the first charged forward, Dragonclaw came from below. He blocked, moving the bone blade to the side, and yet the other end of the double-bladed staff had already come around from the side, it's force only increased. It hit his shield and knocked him sideways, disrupting the charge, even as the second man came in. A spear plunged forward, but Broding simply caught it in his hand, pulling the man forward. It was only a sword swipe from the side, launched by the first of the elite guards, that saved the spearman's life.

Forced to abort his attack on the spear wielder, Broding noticed a third man running for his back, as he tried to surround him. If he did, even Broding didn't know if he could survive the encounter, so instead he turned around the spear wielder, and let Dragonclaw sing. The spear was severed, and soon after so was the man's life. However, he was now flanked by a swordsman on one side, and an axewielder on the other. Instead of protecting Lord Polvark, they had honed in on Broding in order to finish him off, and while another might have used this chance to finish off the royal, Broding knew that doing so would invite a coordinated strike from both warriors, which would be very likely to end his own life. Instead, he rushed to swordsman, who only barely deflected Dragonclaw. However, that had not been the true attack.

Grabbing the poor man's shield even while parrying sword blows with Dragonclaw, Broding twisted around. He used the swordsman's form as a shield, preventing the axeman's next strike, and the force of the turn had undoubtedly broken the shield arm. Then, dropping Dragonclaw, Broding took a hold of the sword. Blood seeped onto the ground, but it had not been in mid strike, and the blade held insufficient momentum to deal any real damage. Sliding his hand along the blade, Broding held the swordsman's wrist on both arms, preventing any kind of strike, even while maneauvering himself to make the axeman's strikes impossible. For just a moment, Guntra looked into his opponent's eyes, and instead of fear, he saw resolve to fight till the bitter end. Great, inhuman muscles coiled, and with a single powerful pull, both of the man's armored arms were ripped from his body. Like a fish on land, the torso fell down in a pool of his own blood, twitching and screaming.

This left Broding with a gash in his side, facing the axe wielder bare handed. This was a dangerous position, as his opponent was quite skilled, but Guntra held the knowledge and skill of every warrior whom's heart he had devoured. Taking a step forward, he invited attack, feinting with his left hand. His oppoent didn't take the bait however, but instead struck low, trying to take down Broding's legs. A quick step back dodged the strike, but the axe wielder was back in form before Broding could launch an attack of his own. Smiling, Broding realized he was facing the most skilled of the three men.

Charging forward, the ebony giant dropped all forms of defense. Realizing this opportunity, as well as the danger rushing towards him, the axe user dropped his shield, realizing what good it had done his friend, and grabbed the axe with two hands. Pain bit deeply as Broding's fist found the man's chest, but even as this happened, the man got as close as he would ever get. Putting all his strength behind it, he struck for Broding's head, the axe striking the giant's skull just before the wielder was launched across the room with a defining crack.

In the corner, the man with the axe chuckled, as blood dripped down from Broding's face. it wasn't a fatal wound, but it had been a good hit. Broding smiled, as he felt the damage to his skull. Walking towards the man, he uttered the same phrase that he had uttered before, given to a defeated, yet worthy, opponent. "Gul Amun". With that, he reached down, and took the man's armor. Flexing his hand backwards, his fingers forming a strange vise, an almost mystical energy could be felt as a small prayer was offered to the many Gods of the Gung. Broding's large, muscled arm shot forwards in a move similar to the striking of a snake, and the fingers dug deep into the man's skin, bone and flesh being pushed aside. Grabbing onto the heart, Broding ripped it from his opponent, and devoured it in a single bite. He could feel it sliding down his throat, the opponent's soul trapped within it. He could see the memories of this fallen opponent, his motives for fighting. The flames of courage that had burned in his heart became one with the flames of Amun, and Broding's own flames.

Broding looked up from his bloody feast. Next up, he would kill Lord Polvark himself. This would end the battle for the keep, and the small group of barbarians that had entered it before the gates had closed, 500 at most, would have taken the keep. The castle would be completely theirs, and despite the forces that Broding knew had amassed outside of it's walls, they would hold it. He himself had seen the hell caused by these walls to his people, he would love to see them used against his opponents.