A Story...?

I made this up as I watched Lord of the Rings- the Two Towers. :) Yes, I think I'll incorporate this into my main story... hmmmm.... give me some feedback, okay?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All around her were screams, death, and blood. Corpses were strewn across the field, stained and slippery with the dead and dying. The air was thick with the stench of war, and the presence of decay was everywhere. The men were fighting, but to no avail, as for every demon slain, a new wave of fresh demonic soldiers appeared before that one fell. They were fighting desperately, each man for his own now.
But still, she ran on, slinking past shrieking arrows, taking the path behind the rocks. The path ended at the gate, where hordes of staring undead awaited their turn to cause desecration.
A flash, then a howl. Another flash, and heads went flying, one thudding to a stop at her feet. Below her, a swiftly whirling form was cutting down tens of demons relentlessly, and at a speed unseen. It had to be him. There was no other who could fight with the power of a thousand men, and with the agility of a snake. Every blow landed true, in the heart of every monster who slid to the ground dead. A faint glimmering ray of hope radiated from the demon-slaying tornado, a hope that grew stronger for every cut-down abomination.
She fired her own hexes at the masses of black slimy heads of the monsters felling two at a time.But they kept on coming...
-- -- -- -- --

The whirlwind paused for a split second, and looked towards his left. There on the ledge of a cliff, an angel was perched. Light shone around her, and every move she made, demons ceased below. They were no more, how could such a puppet of darkness compare to light itself? They cowered, and those who stepped forward to oppose her became nothing more than ash blowing away in the howling death.

Their eyes locked for a second before he heard the swoosh of a cursed blade behind him and was forced to continue fighting. He had seen her somewhere before, but his mind eluded him, and focused on a berserker, swinging his hammer left and right, roaring with rage. He ducked, then spun around, catching the giant in the chest, staggering the huge beast. He plunged the sword upt to the hilt into the berserker's heart, and blood gushed from a thousand places, melting it into the ground.
He could not hear it coming. He spun around, saw it before it pierced him above his right lung with such a force, it could have been magic. He gasped as another whistled towards him, parrying it weakly, knocking him back.
This was it. It can't end this way, he had never planned it to be like this. It hurt so much - he didn't plan it to hurt. It couldn't be over yet. It just couldn't. He was still alive when the third arrow silently shot him from behind. He was still alive when he felt the ground underneath him quake and the sky bleed. And he was still alive, when the Demon Lord raised his jagged blade above his beating heart. He could not hear, he did not feel pain, only a dreamy hum was there when the world was over for him, when he finally succumbed to the poison of night.

-- -- -- -- -- --

She saw him fall. Saw Bloodmayne pierce him through steel, bones, and flesh into his heart. She saw the fight leave his eyes, and his face frozen in time. She saw it all. She screamed inside, her mind aflame, burning her soul until, broken, she let herself fall onto the ground. Tears became blood as they streamed down her ashen face. He was finished, and the war had become hopeless. The final evil had won, and man had lost. Demons killed their hero, their symbol, and their leader, they had nothing left to fight for if he was dead.
She felt cold, shards of ice dangling in her heart, threatening to freeze it forever, so it would become icy and hard. She stared down at the battlefield, and saw them fighting still. They had renewed vigor, a burst of a final fire, in vengeance of their beloved leader. they hacked at the demons, with united force of about twenty men against ten thousand. Twenty against ten thousand? It was certain death, but they pressed on.
She remembered- get to the keep. Get to the keep, get to the keep, she repeated to herself. She cast a protection spell on herself, got to her feet, and continued forward. She leaped from the battlement down the stairs, and slipped inside the keep.
A hand touched her on her shoulder, it was Shadowhunter. She had forgotten his existence, nothing had mattered after he was killed. They opened the door, into the void they walked, but fear itself had hidden outside.

-- -- -- -- -- --

"Welcome" a voice resonated in the silent hall, "to my creation, my work, my perfection" Perfection was said with a lace of sadism, a hint of malice.