Dark Lord

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She was crying as she swung the sword. Tears of pain and rage and desperation, as the knights in black armor crowded close around her, their black blades hacking ruthlessly. Sparks flew from her armor as she reeled, driven by one sword blow back into another. They were killing her, she was going to- No! Don't! I won't watch, I- But he could not look away as laughter echoed inside closed black helms, and long white feathers swirled in a swiftly spreading cloud. They're hacking off her wings! The Aumrarr fought on, her shattered armor clanging, as blood stained the snow-white curves above her shoulders. It was hopeless; she was doomed, whether he shouted or cowered. The Dark Helms were too many and too vicious.

She shrieked as a black blade thrust through one wing, and twisted wildly away to meet the biting black steel of another Dark Helm, a cut that tore away an armor plate, lacings and tatters of torn underjerkin spinning with it.

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