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Gaydyn fumbled with his spear.

Al-Aaron drove baeryth beneath the beast’s plated chest. The beast staggered back, bringing his hammer down in a clumsy fell.

In two strokes, Baeryth severed it from him and then opened his neck up as well.

Black blood like pitch soaked the shredded gossamer that remained upon Baeryth’s steel.

Then the cry of children came.

One of the crossbow boys staggered back, a spear through his frail chest. The small Orc who released it, still bellowing, clearly had never seen death before. He didn’t recognize it when it came for him as three of the men’s spears went through him.

Two more Orcs, children too, leapt forward through the breach.

Gaydyn, now moving, screamed as he thrust into the flesh of the first of them.

Then the cry of men came.

Booted feet descended amidst the clash of steel, the cry of war, and the weeping of the dying.

Al-Aaron fell to his knees upon the black and red blood splattered stones.

The men arriving barred the gate with shield and spear as barricades were called for.

Providence perhaps. But too late for the dead, and the dying.

Gaydyn wept. He clutched his blood soaked abdomen, where one of the young Orcs, now dead, had marked him. It wasn’t a lot of blood, but it was enough, perhaps. Sometimes death can be fickle. Sometimes providence even more so.

Al-Aaron slumped next to him.

The ghost of Malius watched, waiting, smiling from the shadows.

The eyes of the defenders swept past them with no solace but the truth to give them. War and death never lie.

One of the men kicked the corpse of the Orc matron.

Her vestige hand opened.

The small wood carving of an Orc child, a doll, fell away. Something precious, something to defend.

Gaydyn stared at it.

Doernyth drew near.

“They’ve fallen back. For now. How did we fair here?”

“We held, my lord.” Gaydyn answered.

“Strange that something called them back.”

“They’re the only ones left.”

Al-Aaron took Gaydyn in his arms.

Gaydyns eyes fixed their stare as he did. His breath ended.

He closed Gaydyn’s eyes, and wiped away the blood and tears from his face. Then he wiped them from his own.

Doernyth picked up the doll. He stared at it as well.

“Because the ones who defended them are already dead,” he whispered.

Al-Aaron closed his eyes. He listened to the more distant cries of war, and waited for the angels to take him home.

This Entry Point features a character or characters from:
Veil of the Dragon by Tom Barczak
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Entry Point 11 - by SKN Hammerstone

Ebulon; the once proud city ruled by its loving King Yadi, was falling to the armies of Orcs that trampled through it, destroying every life that they passed. I had never reaped a soul before. It was my first time as angel of death. Joshua was temporarily removed from his station in Hell to go with me and teach me how to fulfill my duties.

My guardian angel, Jesse, had come as well to protect me from both the surviving Orcs as well as Joshua. About a month ago some things happened between myself and Joshua that ended in me being forced to kill him. I hadn’t wanted to, but when I was forced to decide between him and Jesse; the choice had been evident.

I wasn’t exactly sure how we had gotten to Ebulon. I didn’t have wings to transport myself between worlds yet. One minute I had been standing in front of Gabriel, archangel of Heaven, and in the blink of an eye I was underneath the softly falling snow in a city on the brink of destruction.

“You need to be careful.” Jesse came up from behind me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Not all of these people or creatures are dead. Many of them are still alive.” I struggled to listen to him with all of the voices crying and screaming in my head. Death surrounded me, invading my mind. When someone dies, their soul is given a direct line into the head of the closest angel of death.

They continue screaming and crying out inside this angel’s head until they are reaped and taken to their final resting place. With thousands dead all around me, I couldn’t sort one voice from the next. They were speaking in numerous languages and dialects, trying to gain my attention to free them from their bodies.

“Yes, it’s a dangerous job.” Joshua rolled his eyes as he walked by us. “Baby the little queen to the point of you doing her job for her. Isn’t that how it has always worked?”

“I don’t baby her,” Jesse stated. “Rachael is new to this job. I am making sure she stays safe.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Joshua stopped in front of the body of what I believed to be an Orc, kicking it onto its back so he didn’t have to touch it. “That one’s dead. Come over here.”

I reluctantly walked over to him, Jesse following closely behind me. Somehow I had once again found myself trapped between the two of them. I stopped within a safe distance. The Orc was covered in grayish, scaly hide that had numerous lesions and stab marks all over it. Its face was deformed and hideous and the entire body smelled putrid.

“Good god!” Jesse turned his head. “How long has that thing been dead?”

“Not very long.” Joshua picked up a discarded sword and prodded the body with it, letting loose a new flow of greenish blood. “You’re up, princess.”

“I don’t want to touch that,” I told him. “I would much rather start on a human.”

“Of course you would.” He turned to me. “But you don’t have that choice. You have to reap everything that has a soul, no matter how dark and twisted. You think this is bad? Try reaping a demon. Now get on your knees and reap that… thing.”

I wanted to just turn around and run, but he was right; I didn’t have a choice. I had to do this. There was no one else out there to help these creatures. Taking a deep breath; I rested an unwilling hand on the Orc’s forehead. I found his voice among the numerous ones in my head, following it straight into his mind.

“Who are you?” He was hostile and angry, trying to figure out what was happening to him.

“My name is Rachael,” I told him. “I’m here to help you.”

“Help me what?” he wanted to know. “I want out of wherever you have taken me!”

“I can’t.” I had found myself inside his head. It was dark and desolate, filled with disturbing images and self-loathing. “We are inside of your mind. I am here to take you to your intended resting place.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

“You’re dead.” I didn’t know how else to put it. It was true.

“I’m dead?” he asked. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry?” I had expected anger and rage. Instead he was thanking me.

“You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment,” he stated. “Take me to where I can finally rest.” I nodded and started to draw his soul out of his body. I opened my eyes to the snow inside Ebulon again, a glowing sphere hovering above my hand.