BOOM!
In the tunnel, pale Undead flames clung to a rust-spotted lance as Arthur brought it down in a powerful Vertical Slash, crushing a member of the Filth Race that was trying to escape.
Foul ichor splattered against the walls, hissing as it corroded the stone.
POOF!
A single black feather drifted down through the dissipating smoke. A disheveled Count Brand materialized and landed on Arthur's pauldron, so furious that all his feathers stood on end, making him look like a black fluffball.
"CAW! CAW! This Count is furious!"
"That damn Slime Lord! It did this on purpose! It absolutely did!"
"'The hellish Filth Race are roaming about,' my foot! It wasn't warning me, it was pushing this Count straight into hell! Cunning! Far too cunning! And to think this Count actually thought it had a talent for storytelling. A liar! A complete and utter liar!"
Count Brand furiously beat his wings against Arthur's helmet, which rang with a CLANG! CLANG!
