Black slime sprayed into Slade’s eyes, blinding him for a moment. A squeal ebbed out of the hoplite dying a step away from him. His sword lodged in the man’s spinal column, holding him close as the severed carotid artery surged a stinking, foul geyser into his face. 

 

He growled. Then twisted and shook his claw-handled blade with both hands. He could hear the cracking of vertebrae. The feel of bones snapping. 

 

The Etruscan wretch fell forward, into him. Pulled down by the tug of his sword, the armored man’s helmet came loose as Slade managed to free his hand, just as he rubbed the cold sludge out of his eyes. Braced in his arms, the gray-skinned thane spat with his final gasp. In a gust of fetid breath, the dead-man spewed a mess of mucus, spittle and nasal-blood that clung to his lips and his clean-shaven chin. 

 

Slade stole himself against the stench. As he held his enemy close however, he witnessed something far stranger. Once the last hope of life had faded from the grayfaced knight, his cadaverous skin began to shrivel. In a matter of moments, the warrior began to decompose. His eyes and skin and soft tissue withdrew into his skull, leaving nothing more than a skull. In only another instant, even the bones of the man crumbled, falling to dust as Slade held him. 

 

He didn’t waste any time. Slade threw the empty armor aside. He didn’t see it land. Another black-knight charged upon him. 

 

Two paces to the left, Threya danced with a faceless giant. He launched a spear. It sliced through the chausses on her leg, tearing into her thigh. She hacked her long-sword with a two-handed slash, chopping a mail-wrapped chunk of flesh from the man’s hip. 

 

The Etruscan warrior made a guttural yelp from behind his blackened bronze helmet. He dropped his spear and tried to draw his falcata from the scabbard slung across his back. Threya didn’t give him the chance. She charged into his deadly embrace, locking her arms with his. 

 

He squeezed her biceps. A battle of strength. Despite the power of her Neanderthal physique, she had no chance against a man possessed of inhuman energy. The dark hoplite crushed her in his grip, pulling her near enough to him to smell her. 

 

Their faces were close. He was winning. Far too strong. Threya screamed, but it had no effect. He lifted her as his grasp constricted. Her feet dangled. As her face swelled and her muscles burned with the pressure, she swung her feet upward. The toe of her boot, crowned with an iron spike, lodged in the man’s groin. 

 

His loins exploded. He tried to move, but he could only fall. 

 

Threya picked up his spear, bounded on top of him and plunged it through his belly. She kicked him in the crotch one last time as he writhed in the muck.