[b][color=red] The Spine, The Vulture’s Roost, Ser Uther and the Demon[/color][/b]

The sudden change of the man before Ser Uther, the turning from man into beast, into a creature from nightmares and half-forgotten stories. The molting flesh, clothing, and armor clung to this beast’s new frame like some horrific joke of the former humanoid form. Still, such shock, the surprise and utter chaos of a sight lasts only for so long, for when the beast lashed out at Ser Uther, its claws rended a painful set of slashes across Uther’s face, tearing his chainmail coif from his head and sending the metal rings clinging and clattering across the stones. That moment was to Uther as though he had fallen back into his own body, finally able to control his own limbs and mind once more. 

[color=red][i] “Ahhh… bla… ssteeddd… bloody Seven…. Gawhhahah” [/i][/color] Ser Uther cried out as he fell backwards onto his posterior. Blood oozed out from his facial would as Uther scrabbled backwards like some unsettled crab, scrapping his hands as he tried to put distance between himself and this chaotic abomination before him. The beast let out a blood curdling screeching roar as it was attacked by that young alchemist and his flaming sword, along with Ser Uther’s commander, Ser Andrew. Uther looked on in horror as the beast snatched the alchemist by his neck with its’ tail, the powerful hunk of sinew and flesh throttling the youth as the beast turned back to glare menacingly at Ser Uther. 

Then his right hand found the haft of a discard spear, the ashwood almost calling out to his hand. Uther quickly recoiled upwards to his feet, and with a mighty heft, hurled the spear into the beast’s abdomen, eliciting a fiercesome roar of pain and challenge. Uther could see that the scored hit was but an inconvenience for the beast, as it quickly snapped off the spear’s haft, throwing the wood away. Ser Andrew was still recovering from being batted away, and with no other means of escape, Uther grabbed up a broken sword, holding it menacingly towards the beast. Perhaps it was his fear and own mind playing tricks, but Uther could swear that the beast laughed at him, its noise full of derision and mirth. 

The beast and Uther charged one another, the alchemist still held firm in the beast’s powerful vicelike tail. Uther could see that the youth would not last much longer unless he did something, but that distracted moment allow the beast to score two quick hits in succession, across Uther’s chest and swinging arm. The broken sword found flesh too, only to be batted aside like a child’s plaything to the beast. The pain was intense, like a burning fire atop Uther’s body, as he recoiled back, sidestepping another vicious attack from the beast’s claws. Just then, Ser Andrew let out another cry of challenge, momentarily distracting the beast from its quarry. Uther took that moment of respite to snatch up a discarded halberd from a dead Vulture, shaking the dead man’s grip loose from the weapon. 

Uther, without noise or regard for his own safety, slashed downwards with the weapon, aimed straight for the beast’s tail. The cut was clean, the steel blade crashing down upon the fleshy tail in a gout of blood, sparks, a falling alchemist, and a pained roar of great anger from the beast itself. The beast quickly rounded on Uther, turning its hateful gaze upon him, yet Uther was ready, knowing and seeing what he had to do. Uther ducked under the certainly mortal blow of the beast’s claws, before charging with all his might and strength, to impale the beast upon the blade of the halberd. Uther took the haft with both his hands, shoving it with all his might, before releasing one hand to grab the remains of the spear still imbedded in the beast. He let loose a cry of anguish, the beast raking its’ claws across Uther’s back, before freeing that broken spear and driving it deeper into the flesh of the beast itself. 

The two remained locked in a painful melee, Uther pressing forward, the beast off-balance, as the two careened towards the gaping chasm of the castle lifts that led down to the docks below. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was divine intervention, but as the beast stepped back, it lost its footing, slipping in a pool of collected blood and pulverized dust, a mucky slush of slippery filth. The beast fell back, holding onto the exposed doorway with both its powerful claws, its beady eyes staring daggers of icy hate at Uther. Uther himself spat out blood, before taking a fallen standard from the ground, leaping into the air, and driving the pole into the beast’s chest. A cry of anguish leapt from the beast’s lips, and that of Uther, as he was slashed by the beast’s claws. 

Both man and beast let out a fiercesome howl of defiance, as together they tumbled into the blackness of the lift shaft, their cries echoing upwards as they both fell the long way down to the bottom.