37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Nz9uWCTSm— ON THE MOUNTAIN —
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THE MOUNTAIN PEAK—
Crows spiral over head the dampened daylight, shining like omens, Cat stands at the cliffs edge, boots inches from the drop, he raises his telescope.
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The distant fortress burns like a miniature picture frame below him.
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His two top commanders are already gone, tempted and now engulfed in the battle.
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Next to him, slightly behind him stands a shorter woman.
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Her hair is long, black, straight and severe, and with red streaks. Red tinted sun-glasses, dark eyes that judge everything.
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An elegant black trench coat outfit covers her with matching brown feathers on her shoulders.
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Her hands are at her sides, twisting a single glow leaf between her fingers.
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A pompous, cruel beauty.
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She stands next to Cat, hands wrapped around his arm, letting go now, a piercing stare coming from her ruthless gaze.
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She crosses her arms, hips angled away from him, shaking her head in slow disapproval as she watches the fortress crumble.
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She doesn't speak.
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She doesn't need to.
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Her presence alone is a verdict.
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— NEAR THE FOREST EDGE — FRONT CASTLE HAYFIELDS —
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Bruised, scraped, and hiding behind a bush.
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Veronica refuses to leave the scene.
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She crouches in the forest shadows, eyes locked on the fortress. She watches the knights and infantry flood through the main gate, leaping over the bodies of more than a hundred dead bandits.
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She stays.
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She endures.
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She watches, waiting.
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— FRONT OF MAIN HALL — ENTRANCE COURTYARD → ACREAGE — 40 ACRES —
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The soldiers thunder past Metro — horses, shields, lances, spears, bows and swords — a tidal wave of steel and panic.
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Metro walks in the same direction.
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Slow.
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Staff in both hands.
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Engulfed with bright whiteness, a living fire.
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Soldiers spot glances at him, startled, unsure...
Once they realize he's on their side, they sprint past cautiously, giving him a wide berth.
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Metro looks like a myth walking through a war.
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— THE BATTLEMENTS — RIGHT SIDE —
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Jeffrey fires from the right middle battlements arrows pinching through the skulls of massive bandits near the breach backed wall.
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Blake crawls to Chad, trembling, bowed down, useless, breath shaking. He hides behind him like a terrified child.
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Chad:
"You gotta move!!"
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A fire arrow slices into Chad's upper chest and neck area.
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— SHRMMN —
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Blood splatters.
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He collapses against the wall, bleeding out, staring directly at Blake — as if Blake fired the shot himself.
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Blake panics, yelping desperately, gripping his bow and quickly scrambles behind a stack of barrels.
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— Back Wall Battlements — Upper Watch Towers —
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Drunken, flexible bandits swarm the battlements under the clouded sky. Colorful leaves drift through the confusion, with hooded reapers slicing through archers— Bundles of glowing trees, flying effortlessly over and out the castle's broken exterior.
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— THWIP —
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Stones crash down from pillar tops. Reaper bandits leap over the archers like frogs, flowing like water, completely ignoring the archery and swinging down to the smokey harvest.
Their long staffed blades cut down glow leaf trees with mechanical rhythm.
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Archers turn to shoot the reaper bandits, leaving their backs exposed to the swaying killers climbing up the walls behind them.
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Sam fires his bow desperately, dropping another bandit down below.
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A crossbow bolt whistles past his cheek —
Lutheran saves him again.
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Lutheran watches the tide turn.
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He sees the bodies, the smoke.
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He sees Chad.
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Chad sits slumped, an arrow through his throat.
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Lutheran drops to his knees.
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Luthers (panting, helpless)
"CHAD!!"
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He presses his forehead to Chad's chest.
"No," (loud, painful)
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" Chad…"
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— grunts
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He throws back a clear vial serum down his throat, swallowing, then smashes it on the stone.
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(Something inside him snaps)
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Lutheran hears a lion roaring in his thoughts, his vision brightens in tone — trancing out he envisions a lion's eyes inside of his temple.
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— The world slows —
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His breathing steadies. His eyes sharpen, burning inside. His crown chakra tightens, sharp and bright around his head.
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He walks toward the right back tower, crossbow raised.
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One shot — headshot.
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Cocks the crossbow.
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A disgusted look on his face, taking his time as he walks forward, slowly.
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Lip curled, eyes raging.
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Another shot — through a bandit's neck.
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He approaches three bandits stabbing an archer helpless on the ground.
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— Reloading — face still forward.
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Lutheran hoists his crossbow, exchanging to his bow staff.
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Draws…
— still disgusted —
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Fires three arrows in perfect rhythm, each one piercing the backs of spines.
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THWIP — THWIP - THWIP —
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Bandits yell out in agony.
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He keeps walking.
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He taps his hand gently on the back of a bandit's shoulder. The bandit turns, confused, thinking Luther is friendly.
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He isn't.
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Lutheran smiles warmly — then guts him clean.
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Another bandit charges.
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(Instincts fade)
(speed returns to normal)
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Lutheran crouches, leaps, and slices the attackers throat mid air.
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He continues to swing his knives wildly while bodies pile around him. Smoke and fire twist through the daylight.
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Yellow autumn leaves scatter across the blood soaked stone.
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The fortress is becoming a graveyard.
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An absolute bloodbath.
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— IN BACK OF THE FORTY ACRES — BATTLE COMMENCING —
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Knights gallop past Paul.
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Bandits stomp through fire and smoke.
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The old man inside the harvester roars with laughter as the machine tears through the acreage at an alarming rate, arrows piercing out of the metal and wood.
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The oiled machine swipes down the field like a true Harvester.
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Paul is the closest to the smoke.
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Looking for the action.
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Engaging.
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His vision warps.
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Shapes bend.
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Sounds are muffled.
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But he keeps swinging.
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The soldiers try to hold formation behind Paul and the knights. Shields locked, firing toward the back wall — until 3 massive bandits blast through the shield line. Scattering men like toys.
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A big bandit rushes. Anger rising and voice at a high pitch octave.
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Paul doesn't hesitate.
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His axe buries itself into a bandit's forehead.
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The bandit drops to his knees, twitching.
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Paul's axe is stuck.
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He kicks the corpse, ripping the blade free with a wet crack.
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Another bandit is stabbing a fallen soldier over and over.
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Paul grabs the attacker from behind, gripping his hair tight, yanks him upright, and hacks through his neck with repeated strikes.
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Brutal chops, like he's felling a stubborn tree.
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His green aura thickens, swirling in toxicity. Flowing emerald waves around his whole temple like poisonous deep hatred. •• His eyes glow with venom. There's nothing left in them besides utter destruction.
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He kicks a bandit between the legs, not holding back, full maximum force, The poor soul falls to his hands and knees, then flat on his stomach, face down first gripping his loins, butt in the air.
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The big man tries to get up. Surprisingly.
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Paul spins forward before the enemy can rise — a full one-eighty into a three-sixty tornadic blade swing, skinning the bandits crown clean off.
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A slither of hairy scalp flies through the daylight into the smoke.
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Blood trailing.
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Disappearing.
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He ignores the harvester.
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He paces forward.
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Expressionless.
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Paul has become a walking death.
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— MIDDLE-BACK ACREAGE — REACHING THE BATTLE —
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Metro reaches the battlefield and sees soldiers being over-run.
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His eyes glow fiercely white.
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He lifts his staff with a grunt.
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Roots explode from the earth, choking bandits, pinning them to the ground.
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Soldiers seize the opening.
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Metro sweeps his glowing gem-staff to the opposite side.
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Glow leaf trees whip their branches, smacking bandits off their feet, disarming them.
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Metro sees the old man screaming in the
harvester machine, reaping everything down rapidly, but now turning away from him and his holy white bonfire presence.
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He throws both hands in the air violently, cloak rattling, and staff still gripped.
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Metro: (screaming painfully)
"HIIIIII!!!!"
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Large roots burst from the ground swallowing the harvester. The old man holds his goggles with one hand, and hits a lever with the other.
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Old man:(pulls lever)
"No!"
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Large sharp reaper sickles are swung from the bottom parts of the machine, slowly nipping itself free from the binding wood — cutting into it.
It bursts forward, freeing itself with a little effort and keeps rolling.
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And then —
(scene switch)
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A cluster of assassins emerge from the bottom left side and behind the main gate, cutting down soldiers with fire arrows, darts, and stars.
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Paul sees soldiers fall, wounded, screaming in blurred colors.
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He hurls an axe —pins an assassin to the wall, blood splattering the wall in a red painted canvas.
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He jogs forward, his blue flannel now stained red, and retrieves his weapon.
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Scene switch-
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