Fall of the Minotaur

Blood dripped from his freshly broken horn. He could not tell if he was in any real pain, the hit had disoriented him, but he was annoyed. The Conquerer, Slayer of the dark. The Father of battle. All names and titles given to him by those he had bested. He never cared for the titles, or the fame, or glory, His only real joy, his true purpose was the fight. But all of it was brought to a halt in one instant. He was tired, his nerves ached in a way they had not since he first held his da's sword. He could hardly catch his breath. Despite all of this his foe remained, unhurt, unscathed, as if they had not spent the last three hours fighting tooth and claw, horn and hoof. He lifted his mighty axe, then gave two sharp swings. The pain radiating from his shoulder caused him to pause a moment, someting was off. He looked down and noticed a large chunk of wood coming from it. Slamming his axe into the wall next to him reached back and removed the large chunk from his shoulder. He let out a quick grunt as the chunk of wood fell to the floor. Blood now poured from his right shoulder. He didn't care, he paid it no mind. He had blocked the last hit from his foe with nothing but the hilt of his axe. The hit was enough to send him flying across the broken village they were fighting in. He stood tall and loosed a mighty roar and charged forward.

Bamf gazed at the large Minotaur in front of him. He could smell the fear coming off of him like stench on a turd. He was infact terrified, Bamf knew the creature would attack again, and soon, and he would again send him flying. The creature let loose a loud roar and charged ahead. With a short push off the ground he was airborne. The Minotaur had jumped high into the sky. Bamf looked up to see his foe, only to be blinded by the sun. The minotaur had used the sun to hide his attack! As he came down with the speed of a falling star, Bamf quickly closed his eyes, as if guided by some unknown force he turned his body right and pushed away with his feet to avoid the might swing. He was not sure when or how he learned to move so effectively. However now was not the time to get lost in thought. The Minotaur he was fighting, although surprised by his reaction, was nowhere near done. The beast glared at him and continued its deadly assault.

The sun sat low in the blood red sky. Death crows began feeding on the wounded layed out across the battlefield. Large black, terrifying birds, always found after battles are fought and lost. The dead were being caried away by the necrosurgeons, who would turn them into twisted beings of their former selves. Using a mad creation of sorcery and science, they use the dead to build their empire. Normally they are chased away by the survivng army. However today their is no survivng army. There is only one. One being that has cause such chaos, All eyes were now focused on that one creature. The creature that was currently twisting the head off of the Father of battle. The slayer of the Dark. The Conqurer, was no more, the battle was over. Bamf raised the Minotaurs head above his own and let out his most terrifying roar. A few of the other goatmen that were left, that could move began to run away. The others, paralzyed by a mix of fear and what their eyes where telling them were unable to move. It was impossible, Their great leader was beaten by a mere child, This same child was the one reports about had been coming in from all over the garrison. A single bear child was found, engaged in combat with the third platoon. No one belived the reports at first. It was thought to be a joke. Then the thrid stopped reaponding. The scouts sent to them never returned. Two more platoons followed, not one came back. Enough solders had been sent out and not come back, the comander himself was notified. Yet, there his now headless body lay on the ground. The creature that had taken it did so with its bare hands! It let out the most terrifying roar, and tossed his head aside, Bamf gazed at the rest of the terrified goatmen. Some had began to flee, others stood in shock and fear. None of it mattered, stand or run, fight or flee, he would have them all. None of them would ever see the light of another day. He roared ahead.