In the distance, somewhere over the unending sea of metal, there was a huge flash of yellow light. A deafening boom shook the ground. Branyr could see bodies being tossed high up and away in the air. A roaring warcry came from the charging line of men. There were still a few seconds left before the onslaught, and he tried to calm himself, relaxing his muscles. He could hear the men shifting in their armour behind him.
The wave was almost upon them. He felt the energy emanating from the jeweled pommel under his palms, its warmth spreading up his arms. He cast a quick glance at his friends flanking him. No word or command was neccessary, just a look of mutual purpose and understanding. Bjornsten smiled ominously in his helmet. Raising his blade, Branyr grinned back, and hurled himself into the coming storm.
The ground was covered by men dead or dying, making it difficult to keep one's footing. Blood was everywhere. He heard the near clang from someone catching a blow that had been meant for his head, but had no time to see who had aided him. The slaughter continued. Neither side was gaining any ground. Branyr and his men were killing a lot more than they lost, but for every soldier they cut down, two seemed to take his place. How the battle was going elsewhere Branyr had no idea.
Again he felt the eyes of the raging beast upon him, feeling the force of that gaze combating the power of the jewel, attempting to wear him down. Allowing himself a quick glance out over the sea of men along the left flank, he saw the towering figure pressing its way through the melee. Their eyes met briefly, and it let out a feroucious roar. Increasing its pace, it cut through friend and foe alike, using a flaming arm as well as the massive blade to sweep away anyone in it's path. And Branyr knew it was coming for him.
'Branyr..!' Bjornsten shouted from somewhere close by.
'I know..!' Branyr shouted back.
'Whatever is going to happen, it better happen soon!'