"Stand ready, soldiers!" the black armored knight screamed over the drone of the pouring rain. He did not glance back at his fellow men who shifted uneasily, gripping the hilts of their weapons nervously. His eyes kept steady upon the hilltops before them, waiting for the adversaries to come within sight. The steady beat of the rain became obsolete as the steady rhythm of war drums echoed from the other side of the hills, causing the horses to snort and demand comfort and control from their riders.

"Edwards! The archers have been regrouped and stand ready for command!" The words cried out from the lieutenant that came from the eastern line of soldiers. As he closed the distance between the black armored knight, he jerked the reigns, bringing the snorting war horse to a nervous halt. The black horse's eyes bulged from their sockets, it's nostrils flared, exhaling steam into the humid air. "We have not much time, General!"

"Aye." Edwards muttered beneath his visor, though not one could hear from that awful beat from the distance. His eyes shifted from those eerie hill tops and turned to glance at the score of a thousand men he had left under his command. Times such as these, he found himself relieved to have his face concealed by his helmet. Then, his men could not see his worried expression or the detachment he always began to feel after he had lost so many fine soldiers. The wearied general turned to look at his trusted lieutenant, which both had a strong history together on the battlefield, and spoke in a voice loud enough to be carried over the dreadful drum beat: "Sion, wait for my signal! We'll send these fiends back to their rightful place in Hell!"

"We stand ready, General. We'll make sure to thin out those ranks before you and your's take arms against them!" Sion shouted with a nod, as he pulled on the reigns. His horse snorted once more as it stammered about, making it's turn to ride off back down the line of soldiers. The knight watched him disappear in the heavy rain before his eyes turned back toward the hilltops. As moments slipped by, he found his mind pondering of how fitting of a day this was. Where the rain was heavy, heavy enough to prevent the earth from getting drunk off the blood of thousands upon thousands that had fallen throughout the long month of war. Yet, even the grass would become hidden beneath the pools of watered down blood. And, soon, it would become nightfall where the sun would no longer have a chance to reveal it's face and dry the life blood away.

His mind would not venture toward what tomorrow may bring, for he honestly didn't know if his men could survive through the night. The enemy had taken great losses, much more than his own men, but for every man that fell by their blades, only a half dozen more to replace him. They were severely outnumbered and only their training and tactics have kept them alive thus far. For now, Edwards had been resolving to the tactics of hitting them hard and then retreating, but the enemy wasn't stupid. They learned from the ones they called Heretics.

Cries of alarm shook him from his thoughts, but he did not need to hear them for he saw silhouettes topping the hills with his own eyes. His hand subconsciously gripped the long hilt of his scythe tightly with a sudden fear in his heart. In that split moment, he was surprised. For fear had never touched his heart in all his years of being battle hardened. The general was uneasy as he felt his skin welt in goose flesh and the hair from the nape of his neck stood on ends. The war drums became deafening.

Yells and screams erupted from behind him, from his men that attempted to find some reassurance for the battle ahead. The black knight ignored their pleas, his full attention was concentrated ahead as the horizon was being populated with the countless enemy. Through the chill of the breeze that brought the smells of a summer's rain, the stench of death and the wounded, the foul odor of horse droppings, and among other things; Edwards caught an alienated smell wafting through the air. Before he could make the odor out, the sudden halt of the war drums startled him and his men.

The air grew silent besides the drone of the rain and the neighs of horses. It began in whispers, carrying out through the wind and seeming to seep into the souls of the general's and into the men he commanded. Incoherent whispers that chanted an unknown phrase. The chant accumulated until the only thing that could be heard was the unison screaming from the men upon the hilltops. Edwards clenched his teeth tightly, his eyes narrowed as anxiety swept over him. Within that moment, while his thoughts screamed for them to charge and the battle to begin once more, a whisper of his own swept through his mind: Sulfur.

The smell. It was sulfur.

His eyes widened from beneath his visor and he yanked hard on the reigns of his own steed beneath him, turning the beast about to sweep his eyes across his wide-eyed men. But, before he could scream out a word in attempt to overcome the deafening chant, it suddenly grew silent once more. The general snapped his eyes back toward the hilltops in time to see, with utter terror, the wisps of shadows lancing out from between the gaps of men along a section of the line. The streaks of blackness rolled down the hill, merging with it's likeness as it gathered speed.

Before any of his men could find their wits, chaos erupted from the horses as they reared up in crazed terror. Bucking off most of their riders, the horses fled anywhere but toward the rushing blackness. As Edwards fought to regain control of his horse, his eyes glanced up toward the horizon, where the men kept their ground, yet their weapons were raised into the air. Shifting his weight and digging his heels into the horse's sides, Edwards managed to hold his position on his steed. Above the chaotic and terror filled cries and shouts from his men, the black knight froze in place as a guttural, inhuman snarl emitted from the advancing blackness that began to take form on it's course down the hill.

Within the moment, the horse tossed the knight off it's backside, where he tumbled to the ground, his breath knocked from his lungs. As he struggled to get up from the weight of his armor and being winded, he saw that the black wisps of darkness was closing the distance at a terrifying speed. It was upon them before any of his men had time to collect their wits and attempt to regroup and to regain order. As it raced toward the front line, it's form became humanoid, yet twice the size of any normal man.

The shadows fell away from it, as if it were birthed from the womb of darkness. With trails of black wisps in it's wake, it's form was revealed within the fading light from somewhere within the storm overhead. The ground began to quake underneath it's heavily armored mass, with a massive grotesque claw-like appendage stretched out behind it's body, which had crimson chunks of plates of armor melded across it's flesh, trailing a massive sword. Edwards eyes found the slit in the demonic helmet, covered in jagged horns, where the faint red glint of eyes could been seen.

"ASTAROTH IS UPON YOU!" A guttural roar emitted from the beast as it came upon the first line unfortunate men. It's trailing claw, wielding that huge sword, rushed ahead; cleaving down over a half dozen men before it's swing ended.

Terror filled panic over swept all lines of reasoning and intelligent thought. Every single man turned to run from the monstrosity that came from the blackness. Madness ensued, brother trampling brother. Weapons discarded and the things they honored most about themselves all forgotten.