After much stumbling, Hering found his way back to the Houses of Healing. Upon entering though, he realized he was very confused. These weren't the Houses of Healing. But...they were supposedly meant to be here...? Someone came around the corner and Hering looked up to see a familiar figure.
Yet somewhat different...instead of the crew cut the man had a shaggy loaf of hair and a large beard covering his face. But the same facial boil scarred over his right cheek and it was unmissable. This was the man they had cornered. The one who was called the Armor Giant.
Berethor remained still in the doorway as the black ranger had walked in on him.
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"Oh, you'll see." The admiral smiled. "Your aid shall be needed in future endevours against the enemy. You take your orders from General Belzagar now, not Captain Vardamir. Understand, Lieutenant?"
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As Thoruk's lazy ass went to bed and Iver and Arandil departed the cabin, they found Lasser sitting outside on the rocking chair. He eyed them suspiciously.
"Where ya goin'?"
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THUUUD!!!!
Dimitri felt the arms around his neck slacken suddenly as he slammed into the ground. Telimekhtar groaned and fell off him but in one last act of strength he clawed at the Dwarf's throat cutting it slightly but not enough to cause substantial damage.
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The Guardian Giant's shoulders were pinned to the ground as the Warrior leaped onto him and stabbed him mercilessly. Over and over and over again and again. The Guardian's face was smashed through, the armor cracking and a sword breaking through its eye.
Ha'zi felt the emotions returning. Miriel's betrayal. Her lies. Mandos. The destiny forced upon him. Everyone who had lied to him, hurt him, fought him, been taken from him, that mattered to him. Eonwe, Dimitri, the Trickster, Lesier, Cardiloc, Iver, Celeste, Keldar, Lesier, Morgoth, Sigeric, Manwe, Grimnir and Osman, Ilmare, the Prototypes, the Gondorians, Daugo, Celeborn, Thoruk, Glorfindel, his Future Self, the Iron Hunter, his father and lastly, his mother...the rage was unleashed and continued to build until there was nothing left of the Guardian but a desecrated body. Noises from the other side of the battlefield drew him...
His wild eyes settled upon a dozen smaller giants chasing around a small speck. But it was beyond them that he saw the source of all his anger. No. Not the source. A receptor. The Armoured and Screaming Giants.
Rambo could very much attempt to break the skin with his hand. Of course, he had just witnessed his blade break upon heavy contact. So, obviously using his hands must somehow be a better option...right?
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