Remram — Roleplayer Guild

It was the end of the world and all that anyone could do was fight against the tide of the inevitable while it slowly overtook the final spark. Bodies mangled and shredded were strewn about the harbor town, charring in the fires that spread unimpeded as the stars of the night sky were hidden behind by the plumes of smoke with beasts encircled in the skies above. Yelling and screaming, incoherent and drowned out by the roar of beasts and man were the background noise to a scene that could only be described as hell, falling short of deafening and god forbid anyone mention the smell. The smell of smoke, blood, and burned flesh seared the nostrils and offended the senses. 

What was the point of this? As humanity raged they were only buying themselves minutes before their extinction. It would've been easier to lay down and die, and yet their bodies could not help, but move towards the meat grinder. 

Rodin knew that it was all lost. He was not ever sure why he even still pushes forward. His family was dead, his friends buried by his own hands, and the woman he loved was dead. It was determined by fate that he was going to die there like a dog, but there was no fitting death for someone like him. Someone that gave up when it got too hard, someone that looked for every excuse when it stared at him plain in the face. So why did he still fight rather than just let death take him? 

Because he was still there.

The half-blood's eyes focused through the gaps of the dented, soot covered slats on the incoming tide. The grip on his glaive tightened as he spun it over head and then swung it horizontally with vicious force as it cleaved the head of a Wulver. His weight shifted and he spun around, cut open the stomach of some creature and let its entrails hang out as his peripheral vision caught the sight of some sword swinging down towards him. Just barely catching it in time, he blocked the swing of an orc with the body of his glaive. The force of the impact reverberated through his muscles and bones, his teeth gritted tightly as he fought back against the pain. 

Rodin quickly shifted the angle of his glaive and let the orc stumble forward as its weapon slid down the shaft. At that moment, he grabbed one of the throwing knives from his belt and stabbed its blade through the orc's skull before he spun around and threw it through the eye socket of some other monstrosity. 

He heard the ear piercing screech of some airborne beast as it came swooping down towards him. With the same hand outstretched, he muttered something before that same knife flew out of the creature's skull and returned to his hand. As soon as it made contact with his hand, his fingers gripped tightly and he threw the knife at the birdlike creature's wing and pierced through its flesh. The creature screamed in agony as it plummeted downwards, off balanced, into the ground. Before it could regain its bearings, Rodin stabbed downwards into the creature's skull, killing it instantly. 

He withdrew his glaive, now covered in blood and broken bits of gray matter. His breathing echoed in his helmet. Rodin could feel his body fail him: arms sore and heavy, his legs numb, and his throat was raw. Had he ever yelled and screamed so much in his life? 

"Come on, just kill me already! How many of you bastards do I have to slaughter before you do?!" He screamed out as he charged forward to his demise.
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