Warmachine

[Bee]

Korbachev lept down from his perch atop his warjack, landing coldly on the bloody remains of the Paladin. There were a few of the order in Khador, but that never stopped The Warcaster from coldly murdering one.

The sun began to peak over the horizon, as the battle forged on. Blood soaked into the earth, and shells from the cannons were scattered around mindlessly. The Khadorian, augmented by the Mercenaries, slowly push on, suffering only the smallest of casualties.

Korbachev decided now was the time to tap into his spells and abilities, to turn the tide of the battle. While most Khadorians excelled in the use of ice and cold spells, Korbachev seemed to be the exception. His powers revolved around fire. Not the Holy, unending fire that the Menoth used in combat, though. A darker, seemingly more evil fire.

The dark red flames billowed around the tempered steel blades of his scythe, as he tapped into his power. Strapping the Nock Cannon across his back, he charged the Menoth line, the firey scythe swinging.