They stood before the enemy, the four of them. Crossbows aimed, faces set hard in stone, years of battles and hurts etched upon them. They where all scarred, even if not visible on there skin, but they were as one.
The slayer stood proud at the head of the group. Her lips pressed hard together, stake in one hand, crossbow in another. She had seen enough battles to last eternity, broken too many bones, seen too much death. But still she stood there, determined, all fear banished away behind the mask of anger. Even in the face of death nothing changed, she stood strong, her watcher at her side. The enemy could see, she was the strength of the group, the one formidable in battle.
The watcher's face was a mirror of hers, brows knitted tightly together, eyes staring fearlessly at the enemy. He stood tall, central to the group, the protector. His hand clasp tightly around the hilt of a sword, knuckles white with fury. His history of injury stood close to the slayers, but he had no slayer healing, no superhuman strength. But he had knowledge, scarred and hardened from battle, he could separate reality from illusion, the enemy knew there was no tricks to be played here.
The witch stood beside him, her face less serious, instead the look of concentration set upon it. Her aura spun with energies and magicks, the air all around seemed to hum with power. In her hand she held an orb, it glowed blue, ready for battle, charged with rage that coursed through the witches veins. Her determination was visible in her stance, years of facing darkness and evil had strengthen her. The enemy feared her power, she was capable of ending the world.
The man stood next to her, he was smaller in stature to the watcher. But his love for his comrades bonded them all, the emotion that filled him, strengthen his heart. He had no special abilities, but he had love, the single most strongest emotion to posses and loyalty was his gift. He wore an eye patch, presenting the spoils of war which pressed on them all. But the use of one eye didn't phase him, a crossbow was aimed steadily in his grasp. The enemy could see, he would fight to the very end.
They stood together, as one. And even in the mitts of almost certain defeat that faced them, even on the brink of battle, they took time to regard one another. Their love would pull them through, if not in life, it would cross the boundaries of this world into death. Their bond was strong, they were unbreakable.
