Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-25389303-20190127200805/@comment-25389303-20190421221435

"One moment...one moment...!" Helldrix muttered, his grey eyes scouring the lines of code, picking out slivers of information and fragments of data, slowly unravelling the security protocols and digital firewalls that protected the facility's precious systems. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a small, conceited smile spread across the young engineer's face.

"Done! Automatic defense systems are down!" he called out in a loud voice, before casting his eyes backwards towards the rear of the aircraft - down the ramp and below, to where Arthur was exchanging a flurry of blows with the iron-jawed officer.

"Move it, or we're leaving you!" he shouted down, before turning back to reconvene with Doctor Alexander.

---

With a surge of rage-fuelled strength, Arthur propelled himself towards his callous rival with newfound bloodlust. The suddenness of the assault caught Ulric off-guard, and within moments silvery light was pouring through half a dozen clefts in the loyal soldier's armour. Arthur moved like a whirlwind - each axe-cleave carrying the force of a raging gale that slowly began to overwhelm his opponent's faltering defense. Beneath his padded clothing, Arthur could feel the totemic tattoo burning across his shoulders with the intensity of a branding iron, which only served to fuel his explosive anger. With each successful blow, Arthur felt himself moving faster, each strike more powerful than the last. The Red Thirst had finally emerged, and now had swallowed him whole.

When the bloody hazy finally faded, he suddenly found himself standing over Ulric's bruised and battered form. Deep rends adorned every surface of the man's once-faultless uniform, and from many oozed small streams of blood that stained the blanket of snow upon which the man lay a bright red. Breathing heavily, Arthur suddenly felt an incredible weakness take hold of him, as if his once-tireless muscles had suddenly been transmorphed into lead. Below him, Ulric's chest heaved as the fallen soldier gazed angrily at the handaxe buried deep into his chest.

"Perhaps...I was wrong..." Ulric admitted sourly through gritted teeth, though visibly straining to summon the strength to rise, refusing to accept this defeat. As Arthur gathered himself, meanwhile, he was suddenly sent tumbling backwards as a powerful force bowled him over. Landing in the snow and rolling, Arthur rose to find one of Ulric's guards advancing towards him, having surprised the younger man with a bruising shield-bash. Eyes flicking to the man's cackling sword, and to those wielded by the soldiers close behind, Arthur decided it was time to go.

Casting aside his suicidal pride, Arthur turned and - forcing whatever strength he had left - bounded upwards to Alexander's newly-acquired airship. Landing awkwardly on the lowered boarding ramp with a painful thump, Arthur felt the vehicle begin to pitch in the air as it moved to make its departure. Allowing a small smile to grace his lips, Arthur began to make his way inside.

And then suddenly, he found himself falling forwards, felled by some unseen blow. His knees gave out beneath him, and he hit the metal deck hard enough to send a loud thump echoing throughout the ship.

Far below, a wounded Ulric lowered him arm, having watched Arthur collapse as his own dark-forged axe bit deep into the young man's back, shearing through his armoured plate with impressive ease. Red poured ceaselessly from each fighter's respective wounds, but as the commandeered airship began to disappear into the surrounding snowstorm, only Ulric, the Hound of Beacon, remained standing.