The Black Unicorn

Masters not so bad side

The men behind you shouted in alarm, lurching back, you could hear as some even hit the ground trying to scramble away. Some of them raised their weapons, getting ready for a fight. The lead thug holding you furrowed his brow in confusion as he saw his men scatter.

He turned over his shoulder, glancing briefly at the towering mountain of a man behind him. He looked back at you and the realization struck his face like lightning. His eyes went wide and blank and his grip loosened on you.

You fell from his grip, landing harshly onto the road where dust flew up into your face, getting lodged in the blood in your nose and stinging your eyes. You coughed up more blood onto the dirt. Groaning in pain as your wounds stung.

The man slowly turned to face the master, having to crane his neck back just so he could look into the dark eyeholes of the twisted metal helmet. the single horn on the forhead gleamed in the early evening light. The only thing that came out of the throat of the lead thug was a small whimper.

The masters clawed gauntlets came up in a flash, faster than anything you had ever seen before. He seized the man by the sides of his head. The man shrieked and fought at the master's armored arms as he was lifted up by his head until he was eye level with the helmet.

The clawed thumbs of the gauntlet slid across the man's face, slicing the skin and making blood drip down his cheeks. The man knew what was coming, and so did you. He pleaded for the master, begging him to let him go. His words soon turned into violent screams, however.

The master jammed his clawed thumbs into the man's eye sockets with a squelching and popping sound. Bloodshot out from the puncture's eyes and dripped down his face in rivers as if the master was squeezing a soft fruit.

You sobbed on the ground as you witnessed this all go down. The man's feet kicked wildly and he clawed at the armor so hard that every single one of his fingernails was torn off and hanging off of his fingertips. He continued to scream bloody murder as the master continued to dig his thumbs deeper and deeper into the man's skull.

The other men in the gang that had not run away charged passed you and over to the master as he dropped the limp body of their leader. Most of them bore large blunt weapons such as clubs or maces.

They descended upon the master in a hoard, though he towered over them like a mountain surrounded by a forest. Their blows bounced harmlessly off of master Ambrose's armor in loud bangs.

He raised his heavy gauntlets into the air and over his head. Some of the attacking men saw this an immediately fled the scene. Others stayed and tried to push the beast down.

The master held his hands in a bowl-like shape above his head. From behind his helmet, you could hear the faintest whisper of just a syllable. You could not make out what it was over the sound of all the yelling men.

A wave of energy came from his cupped hands, blowing through your very soul and making your heart and lungs forget how to work for a second.

All of the standing men that were surrounding the master suddenly burst into flames. They a screamed and thrashed around, running away and trying to put out the fires that consumed them.

One man dived into a water trough, only to lift himself back out a second later. Soaking wet yet the flames still licked at his skin and ate his flesh.

One of the other men that had been hidden this whole time charged out from one of the side allies with a bastard sword raised over his head. Letting out a loud battle cry as he charged at the master. He swung down hard, aiming for master Ambrose's forearm with a swing that would surely cut through the armor and chop his arms clean off.