[@Ace of flames01]

The travel had been unpleasant, to say the least. Every man dead in the night was fuel for the cultists and necromancers. Bartuc spat at the idea. 

He ahad originally thought to ask the necromancer of their own to raise the dead to fight on, but amidst combat and constant stress, they would turn on them all without thought. Bartuc has personally burned the corpses. To hell with consequence.
None of their dead would return. 

The journey with Ruinil had been pleasant enough, despite the violence, but she ultimately preffered her own space, to which Bartuc was more than willing to give.

Until they found a grim sight on the road.
A group of knights had been discovered and attacked, already almost all of them had been taken down, save for one bloodcrazed fighter still swinging his sword.
Cultists came from every direction,  if the knights didn't act fast they would be eradicated too. Bartuc had been in the back of the party looking for signs of pursuit, and felt foolish. 
Until his feet hit the ground, at least. Combat came in full; shouts and screams of defiance assaulted his senses. Bartuc took up his axe and hammer and, with a deep breathe that reeked of blood, began his assault. 
A hurricane was often less deadly than Bartuc with his weapons in hand.
His first swing of the hammer cracked open the skull of a 4 armed demon, its jaws ready to tear into the soft meat of its own 'master', sending it to eternal darkness. His axe blade found the neck of the summoner in short order, even as the warrior leaped forward into a throng of minor demons, a breed known to swarm.
Both his weapons erupted into flame as he leaped over the circle of slashing claws, his shoulder slammed into the knight within and launched the fellow out of the ring before Bartucs weapons slammed into the nearest targets.
Most pyromancers opted to THROW fireballs and savor the carnage at a safe distance. The crazed fighter wasn't one for such weakness. His armor took on a glow as the protective wards carved into the steel shielded him from his own destructive casting. 
The group of ankle biters was turned to dust in an instant or blown away from the sheer force.
He didn't have time to savor the blood, not while enemies still walked.
He caught the sound of yelling, a very particular scream of violence. He caught the sight of Ruinil crushing a mans skull to pulp on a tree and couldn't suppress the familiar tingle of excitement. He was running before he even realized it.
He was almost too late as the monster all but chewed on the half elf. 
She could handle the demon, already she had lit the creature in an inferno. 
The cultist was now top priority.

With a roar of outrage he threw his hammer, spinning end over end. Its flight was interrupted by the unfortunate cultists skull. The hammer lodged itself deep as the fool was thrown from his feet.
On came the warrior, slashing with his axe like a woodsman at a tree, felling any monster in his path with methodic and vicious intent.
A club like arm came whipping around to catch him full in the chest, lurching him backwards with a grunt and a stifled gasp as he touched his dented chesspiece. A thorn the size of a dagger had broken off from the creatures arm and lodged there.
Bartuc barely noticed. A feral growl escaped his mouth as he lost time and ground, launching himself at the creature. Mid leap, he all but exploded into flames as another of his fireballs exploded across his own body.
The demon didn't stand a chance against the bloodlust that consumed the thing tearing its life away.
Panting from the exertion, black and red blood mingled on his armor even as the flames ate away at it.

"Ruinil!" He shouted, bashing away a leaping insect creature with the axe spike. Still aflame, covered in gore, he looked as much a demon as the rest.
An angel of blood and brimstone.