ORIGIN

The battle moved with him. Those humans who rushed in to try and stop him were cut off, cornered, and torn to pieces. A few held their own, for a time, and this often took the form of a cluster of armored shapes surrounded by one or two overeager Valkhounds who quickly learned the taste of blackened steel. A few fell, flesh torn too wide, their carcasses swiftly dissolving into thick black Oil. Inevitably, though, the humans were torn down.

The wall, too. Stone after stone melted away, sputtering with boiling acid, torn by Gravedigger's own claws.

The chaos had spread, both in magic and a literal sense. Black flames rose on one city horizon. The shudder of defiled earth cracked a district to the east. A cackling Valkhound dove down into the water reservoirs, and what had been clear if polluted by the battle now thickened and swirled with black.

The main gate began to creak and tilt as the wall collapsed to its left, Gravedigger's work efficient and effective.

Behind him, there was no organized resistance to attack him, personally. There was one soldier on a secondary wall, though, who had not forgotten his charge. Terrified, he stood his ground, and no one really noticed as he made his way to one of the remaining arbalests. Through the smoke and screams he turned it, aiming, his breath catching and his hands shaking.

He put Gravedigger in his sights as the massive monster tore at the city walls. He aimed down, and fired.

The single bolt, should it strike home, was not enough to kill. Scar, yes, but he'd need a follow-up. He'd need time, to load and fire. He'd need no one to notice him. To stop him.

And in the meantime, his wall was falling. His world was falling. The soldier tried to hold back his despair.

The huge hunk of broken stone shot up and forward, and the lone soldier on the ballista had no chance to react bar a brief shift in his expression. Terrified determination, desperation even, changed to surprise as the rock sailed into him. His armor caved in, his bones behind it, a spray of blood erupting from his mouth as he was thrown backward and pinned into the mud behind him. He sank down, choking, scrabbling weakly with his hands, his legs no longer moving. He stared up and blinked at the sky as if trying to figure out what had just happened to him.

He was dying, albeit somewhat slowly; one could leave him to it, or offer some mercy in a quick death. He'd die, either way.

Near to Gravedigger, a lanky Valkhound (something like a black wolf with an almost giraffe-length neck) swivelled its gaze from the ballista to Gravedigger. It was grinning; it had started for the soldier before Gravedigger had handled it himself. "Nice shot," it rasped, and lifted one of four forelimbs, offering three thumbs-up at once.

Another monster, this one sinuous and hard to see--Oilslicked and serpentine--crept up alongside it. "We're nearly done here, I think. City's almost ours." It exchanged a glance with the wolfish one, who shrugged. Both of them looked to Gravedigger. "Once we take it, uh. What next?" it asked.

The battle wasn't over, of course. There were still screams, shouts. There were still others racing past, monsters that were nothing but a flash of ominous color in the thickening smoke. But for now, a few of them were gathering here: following Gravedigger, looking to him expectantly, grinning.

Maybe in time, some of those claws and teeth and urges to violence would grow bored, and the Valkhounds would turn on one another. But for now... "Well, there's the... What's the word," one said, reaching down and taking a sword from a dead soldier's hand. It took two tugs to yank it free of the grip, and then he used it to pick a piece of gore from between his jagged teeth, looking thoughtful. "Civilians? Bunch of the non-fighty people. Easy pickings, but we have to get through the walls and doors," he added, firing Gravedigger a meaningful glance. That was what he was good at. "Then there's... what was that other city?" and he turned to another creature behind him.

She was sinuously sleek, like a black leopard scaled up a hundred times and covered in spines and weirdly prominent veins that pulsed violet, and she shrugged too. Her speech pattern was short and staccato. "Dead already. I think. This city's enemy. Camps. Fires. Outside. No real walls. And their army," she added, glancing around.

The first translated. "Ha, yeah. This city marched out to fight them, I think. We killed them out there and the other city too. So this is the main one left, but..." he trailed off, and shrugged again. "We can probably find other stuff to kill."

Off he went! A force of supernatural power, of searing heat and acidic lava, of massive claws and Chaos itself!

...Nobody else followed.

After a minute a few of the Valkhounds exchanged glances. One cleared their throat.

"Gravedigger?" came the tentative call, from behind him. Should he glance back toward the milling Valkhounds--their gazes hopeful, expectant, and a little bit confused--one would point a slender talon off to the left. "The civilians are this way."

Underground. The keep--far off ahead--was a low-slung, ugly structure, more a bunker than anything else. Thick pipes rose from all sides, belching black smoke. But the other way were the vault-like doors, built into the earth, that led to the civilian shelters. The long halls and rooms underground. The Valkhounds would, of course, gladly lead Gravedigger in that direction. There weren't a lot of active defenders left to fight back; just smoke and blood and muddied earth, all mingled together.

And once the vault doors were pried up, or dug around? The slaughter could begin. A couple of the monsters alongside Gravedigger were already grinning at the prospect.