The Last stand

The helmet slipped onto his head with a whisper of finality, and his rage glowed from deep within, the dispassionate iron faceplate warped into a mask of hate as he stared down the crusading army and the man that led them with eyes like blood.

"A demon, am I?" The whisper was more cutting than any shout could be. "Indeed, I find it fitting. Very well. Since you desire it, I will be your personal escort to hell, 'hero'."