Heated Skirmish
Lucien's ears twitched and suddenly, the Razielim moved in a spur of motion that appeared to a rift of umbra to the human eye. Even with his shield and spear in hand, clad in etched armour and mud-scarlet gambeson, he moved with such inhuman ease. His keen jasmines seeing the explosions of magics striking where he was, tracing up to see the magi on the ridge.
Landing on the balls of his feet, sabotons clicking before he raced forward. The muscle-torn abominations of shackled Eden Mutants shrieking and moving in his way, their vague human faces split with loose jaws rowed of tail and lapping tongue. Eyes eternal of agony inconceivable, they moved just enough to combat the vampire with massive fists and bone-jagged claws. His shield catching one hammer's strike of a punch but Lucien didn't use his own strength. They had a edge on that in the condensed corruption that the Dark Triad has fouled in Nosgoth's north into the living hell that it is. His ancestors born from that very same were the lucky ones.
Twisting himself up and riding the swing's muscles, Lucien thrusted his spear straight into the mutant's eye and through its skull. The thing wretched and howled a skull-splitting scream. The paladin's vision shook but he didn't relent. His boots' spurred heels slammed into its scalp, arching the mutant out with its massive throat exposed for a crushing jab of kite shield's pointed bottom. The loud crunch of thrice-forged bones. Once. Twice!
The Razielim twisted his spear to stir the presuming brains in the monster's skull, trying to kill it but the mutant was something not natural. Even as it screamed and tried to pry himself, it still lived somehow.
Then there was the other.
Lucien looked over, but too late to dodge as he was swatted off its kindred with his spear splintering. Crashing onto the ground, bouncing off his shoulder and rolled into the momentum. Lungs huffing and filling, there was a taste of blood in his mouth and back tightening. Bones reknitting from the slight fragmentation caused -even with his own armour.
Glancing up, the paladin lifted his shield - both to pop his shoulder back into its socket and protected himself from a new barrage of fire washing over him. The little nature on the dark ground was scorched and the craters being pockmarks of glowing glass under the blanket of hot debris.
From the blinding smokescreen, the mutants' shapes barely conceived. A breath and Lucien catapulted with his patriarch's dark gift, spiraling like a makeshift javelin. His form zipping past the foremost magi, flipping and by the time he landed, two was tumbling headless. The Razielim paladin flourishing his longsword glistening crimson now glowing of hemomancy.
"In the name of the Emperor, your lives are forfeit!"