Roll Titles: The Damned
Starring:
Eliza Dushku as Faith
Casey Affleck as Sir Robert La Morte
Alexis Denisof as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Alyson Hannigan as Willow Rosenberg
David Boreanz as Angel
And Seth Green as Daniel 'Oz' Osborne
Michelle Trachtenberg as Dawn Summers
Special Guest Stars:
Anthony Stewart Head as Rupert Giles
Nicholas Brendon as Alexander 'Xander' Harris
D.B. Woodside as Principal Robin Wood
Amy Acker as Winifred 'Fred' Burkle
J. August Richards as Charles Gunn
Andy Hallett as Lorne
Iyari Limon as Kennedy
D.B. Woodside as Principal Robin Wood
Vincent Karthieser as Connor
Jake Busey as Micah Luke
Arnold Vosloo as Gideon.
And Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Summers
La Morte had just dispatched one of the black men. He was an easy foe, stumbling and swinging his blade like a feeble peasant. Robert savagely defeated him, his claymore smashing through his opponent's defense and burying itself in Wood's chest. The taller black man fell silently, blood running out of his mouth as he collapsed on his death throes. La Morte only laughed, ridiculing his fallen unlucky foe. He withdrew the claymore and wiped the blade on his cloak, leaving a red stain that quickly dissipated on the black cloth. Robert whirled around to face the three fighters remaining.
He surveyed them with his blood-red eyes, casually scanning the looks of fear and doubt on their faces. La Morte continued guffawing savagely, hoping to inspire more uncertainty into the eyes of his foes. After all, no human can ever put up a decent fight when they are frightened down to the depths of their souls. He knew that from hundreds of years of experience.
The other black man was the first to gather his composure from a frightened stupor. He carried a long rapier and had a sufficient height advantage over La Morte, so La Morte backed off slightly to afford him some momentum before he would cross blades with his foe. One of his other opponents, a blond-haired, blue eyed young man who didn't seem that much younger than La Morte (Robert still retained a youthful build and handsomeness despite his impressive age), took this as a sign of opportunity and charged forward, yelling loudly and brandishing his axe wildly. La Morte cautiously awaited the charging foes and crossed his rapier with the glowing claymore. He planned his battle quickly and silently within his brain as he surveyed the oncoming foes. When the blonde man was only a few steps away, La Morte took a step to the right and lunged forward with his claymore, parrying the boy's axe as if it were a stick.
Gunn lifted his rapier in a slashing motion as he rushed towards La Morte from the left side, hoping to score a blow in before La Morte could react to his onrush. To his surprise, a rapier like his own appeared in the black knight's left hand and blocked the slash. La Morte then lashed out with his foot, knocking Connor off-balance and the blonde stumbled backwards while Robert whirled around to bear the full brunt of his attack against Gunn. Gunn punched La Morte with his free hand, but the shorter pale-faced man just absorbed the blow as if it was a mosquito bite.
La Morte then headbutted Gunn straight in the chest and stepped backwards to plan out his next moves. Gunn gritted his teeth and took the pain. His chest throbbed like it had been hit by a train. He had fought vampires and all sorts of demons before but this man seemed to be even more powerful than anything he had ever faced before. The bald fighter lunged at the black-armored figure, lashing out with a swift uppercut combination with a thrust with his rapier. His fist connected with La Morte's chin before he could react and La Morte went sprawling, barely managing to parry Gunn's thrust with the claymore.
Gunn glanced over to Connor, who was rising up and groggily coming to. It was a mistake that cost him the battle. La Morte used the precious few seconds to regain his balance and he raised the claymore in his right hand and slammed it down with full force against Gunn's rapier. The black man's rapier was smashed into two pieces by the force of the knight's blow. The massive Scottish sword cleaved downward, burying itself in the center of Gunn's face and sliding downward. Gunn struggled briefly, trying to fight the black knight, but La Morte responded with a stab of his rapier and buried it in Gunn's stomach. He put his full frame into the claymore, cleaving past Gunn's skull and into his brain, ending the life of the noble man who shared a history and a companionship with Angel.
La Morte withdrew both blades, smiling as Gunn's corpse fell to the ground with a loud thud. Connor paused right in his tracks and stared at the mutilated body of the man who had been one of his most trusted and loyal friends, someone he continued to respect despite his deep hatred for his vampire father. His blue eyes were filled with tears as he watched the black-armored figure place his foot on the vanquished man's neck and raise the bloodstained swords in the air, answered with cheers by the milling hordes of fanatics.
Fred had watched the battle with trepidation, she tried to secure a steady lock on the black-armored figure who was fighting Charles. She had always possessed a love for the man, and looked up to him as a fighter and comrade. Now, he was gone, his life extinguished by the power of Robert La Morte's claymore. She let out a loud wail of grief for her fallen hero and lover and stared at his mutilated corpse. Her sorrow turned to rage and she raised her crossbow on the black-armored figure standing over her lover's corpse. She pressed the trigger and loosed the bolt at the hateful monster.
Connor exclaimed loudly and clenched his left fist in joy as he watched the bolt bury itself in La Morte's back. It protruded form his back, having pierced his armor. Screams from the fanatics resounded throughout his ears as they thought their glorious commander had died, cruelly slain by Fred's crossbow. But Connor's newfound joy and the fanatic army's sorrow soon disappeared as they watched in horror and amazement at La Morte's reaction.
La Morte whirled around to face both Connor and Fred. His agonized expression was replaced by a wicked grimace as he first sheathed his claymore and then with his right hand, pulled the bolt from out of his back, blood seeping out of the wood. But his was not ordinary human blood, it was a reddish-black reflecting the mix of races he was. But the flow of blood was only brief as his wound miraculously sealed up within a matter of seconds. La Morte snapped the bolt in two and threw it upon the floor. He growled and then his furor was replaced with a sly smile. He walked forward, calmly staring at Fred, who in fear tried to reload her crossbow.
The crowd and Connor watched as La Morte, ten paces away from Fred and out of sword range stopped. He allowed Fred to reload her crossbow a second time and she stared at him like a prey before its hunter, with a mixture of defiance and fear. The black-armored man raised his rapier and threw it as if it was a knife. The projectile buried itself in Fred's chest. She stared down and looked in amazement at the rapier hilt protruding from her chest and then glanced back at her killer before she flopped down upon the floor, joining her lover among the dead.
"NOOOOOO!" Connor screamed in rage and despair. La Morte whirled around to face him while the crowd chanted "Kill him, Kill him, Kill the infidel!"
The knight paused and looked down upon the defiant opponent before him. The pale face of La Morte shined with bloodlust. His lips parted to speak.
"You think you can stop me?" His eyes gleamed with victory and arrogance.
Connor shot back at him with vehement hatred in his voice, "You and your fanatics shall not leave this place with Dawn. If I won't stop you, then the slayer will."
"If you really think that, then you're just an ignorant, silly naïve boy," the black knight chuckled. He looked over to his side and called out loudly, "Angel! Watch and see your son die!"
Angel, Kennedy, Wesley and Xander were all fighting back to back against the endless horde of fanatics. Kennedy sliced away at her enemies, sending them sprawling with cuts across their faces or wounds deep within their chests. When this failed to deter them, she lashed out with anything she had, her feet and fists colliding with the weak flesh. Angel fought beside her, snapping the neck of a howling Hispanic man armed with a sickle and then knocking his comrade, a huge fanatic clad in a brown robe backwards, knocking over a dozen fanatics with his massive body.
"Anyone else wants some?" he snarled in the faces of his opponents.
Then, his ears picked up La Morte's murderous challenge. He ran forward, knocking foes aside, snapping necks and slashing apart with his blade anyone that dared cross him. He reached the circle of fanatics surrounding Connor and knocked aside several wide-eyed foes in time to face the battle between his son and the black knight.
La Morte looked at the astonished vampire before resuming his attack against Angel's son. He waved the finger of his free hand in an insulting motion. His evil smile reflected his intentions and he motioned for the fanatics around him to restrain the wily Angel from intervening in his son's impending death.
The fanatics howled with laughter as they rushed at Angel, the vampire batted them aside in a futile attempt to reach his son. The son he loved and who hated him. The son who had betrayed him but Angel continued to persist with love and devotion for his hateful offspring. His soul panged his body with feelings of loss and love as he lashed out at the ocean of foes surrounding him as he tried to save the wayward son he loved so dearly.
Connor entered a fighting stance as he watched La Morte walk towards him, the latter's cape billowing in the breeze of battle. His facial complexion reflected defiance and hatred for the man standing before him. He attacked first, slashing down with his axe, noting that his foe only had an inch of half-inch on him. He put all of his strength into the blow, which clashed with La Morte's claymore; sparks flew off the blades due to the force behind the blows.
Connor stepped backwards and tried to block the claymore with the back of his hand as he tried to thrust under the black-haired man's guard. His foe switched his blow from a thrust to a slash and sliced off Connor's arm with a savage slice. Connor fell backwards, his plan torn to shreds by the part- demon's resourcefulness. He rose up, blood seeping from his wound and his eyes filled with tears from the pain and loss.
He yelled loudly and affectionately into the crowd before he met the black knight for the last time, calling out "Father, I love you!"
Angel heard his son's strained voice and charged forward, finding a newfound strength in a desperate attempt to save his son. He struggled through the surging mass of bodies deterring his advance, leaving dead and wounded behind him as he unleashed his rage. He finally cleared the mass of fanatics to face-
La Morte effortlessly batted aside Connor's slash with his axe. He seized the boy's arm with his free hand and wrenched the axe from the blonde's grip. He cast the axe aside and seized Connor by the throat, clutching the struggling boy in one hand as he turned around to face Connor's body.
"Let him go and I won't kill you," Angel snarled as his expression of pure violence and hatred met La Morte's smiling face.
"I think not, Angelus, I'm afraid the pleasure's mine," Robert La Morte snickered, exaggeratingly pronouncing angelus in a haughty, supercilious voice. He then raised the claymore and slit the struggling blonde's throat with it, splattering crimson red blood over his black armor.
"Connor! No!" Angel cried as he fell to his knees. His son was dead. Connor was the son who never loved him, the same boy who imprisoned him under the ocean and betrayed him so many times. And now Connor was gone, slain by the same killer who had murdered Gunn, Wood and Fred. All of them had been trusted confidantes and comrades. He glared at La Morte with unfiltered malevolence.
"You're dead La Morte!" He screamed before he was engulfed by the surging mass of fanatics once again.
The tall, black-armored man only laughed his mouth wide open in joy. The laugh reverberated across the room, entering the ears of the remaining warriors who fought with Angel. It was a sound they would never forget and a sight that would always haunt them within their memory. The sight of the laughing dark knight stained with the blood of Robin Wood, Charles Gunn, Winnifred Burkle and Connor walking towards them while his subordinates parted ranks.
But in that dark hour, Buffy managed to secure a victory against another seemingly unstoppable foe named Gideon.
Starring:
Eliza Dushku as Faith
Casey Affleck as Sir Robert La Morte
Alexis Denisof as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Alyson Hannigan as Willow Rosenberg
David Boreanz as Angel
And Seth Green as Daniel 'Oz' Osborne
Michelle Trachtenberg as Dawn Summers
Special Guest Stars:
Anthony Stewart Head as Rupert Giles
Nicholas Brendon as Alexander 'Xander' Harris
D.B. Woodside as Principal Robin Wood
Amy Acker as Winifred 'Fred' Burkle
J. August Richards as Charles Gunn
Andy Hallett as Lorne
Iyari Limon as Kennedy
D.B. Woodside as Principal Robin Wood
Vincent Karthieser as Connor
Jake Busey as Micah Luke
Arnold Vosloo as Gideon.
And Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Summers
La Morte had just dispatched one of the black men. He was an easy foe, stumbling and swinging his blade like a feeble peasant. Robert savagely defeated him, his claymore smashing through his opponent's defense and burying itself in Wood's chest. The taller black man fell silently, blood running out of his mouth as he collapsed on his death throes. La Morte only laughed, ridiculing his fallen unlucky foe. He withdrew the claymore and wiped the blade on his cloak, leaving a red stain that quickly dissipated on the black cloth. Robert whirled around to face the three fighters remaining.
He surveyed them with his blood-red eyes, casually scanning the looks of fear and doubt on their faces. La Morte continued guffawing savagely, hoping to inspire more uncertainty into the eyes of his foes. After all, no human can ever put up a decent fight when they are frightened down to the depths of their souls. He knew that from hundreds of years of experience.
The other black man was the first to gather his composure from a frightened stupor. He carried a long rapier and had a sufficient height advantage over La Morte, so La Morte backed off slightly to afford him some momentum before he would cross blades with his foe. One of his other opponents, a blond-haired, blue eyed young man who didn't seem that much younger than La Morte (Robert still retained a youthful build and handsomeness despite his impressive age), took this as a sign of opportunity and charged forward, yelling loudly and brandishing his axe wildly. La Morte cautiously awaited the charging foes and crossed his rapier with the glowing claymore. He planned his battle quickly and silently within his brain as he surveyed the oncoming foes. When the blonde man was only a few steps away, La Morte took a step to the right and lunged forward with his claymore, parrying the boy's axe as if it were a stick.
Gunn lifted his rapier in a slashing motion as he rushed towards La Morte from the left side, hoping to score a blow in before La Morte could react to his onrush. To his surprise, a rapier like his own appeared in the black knight's left hand and blocked the slash. La Morte then lashed out with his foot, knocking Connor off-balance and the blonde stumbled backwards while Robert whirled around to bear the full brunt of his attack against Gunn. Gunn punched La Morte with his free hand, but the shorter pale-faced man just absorbed the blow as if it was a mosquito bite.
La Morte then headbutted Gunn straight in the chest and stepped backwards to plan out his next moves. Gunn gritted his teeth and took the pain. His chest throbbed like it had been hit by a train. He had fought vampires and all sorts of demons before but this man seemed to be even more powerful than anything he had ever faced before. The bald fighter lunged at the black-armored figure, lashing out with a swift uppercut combination with a thrust with his rapier. His fist connected with La Morte's chin before he could react and La Morte went sprawling, barely managing to parry Gunn's thrust with the claymore.
Gunn glanced over to Connor, who was rising up and groggily coming to. It was a mistake that cost him the battle. La Morte used the precious few seconds to regain his balance and he raised the claymore in his right hand and slammed it down with full force against Gunn's rapier. The black man's rapier was smashed into two pieces by the force of the knight's blow. The massive Scottish sword cleaved downward, burying itself in the center of Gunn's face and sliding downward. Gunn struggled briefly, trying to fight the black knight, but La Morte responded with a stab of his rapier and buried it in Gunn's stomach. He put his full frame into the claymore, cleaving past Gunn's skull and into his brain, ending the life of the noble man who shared a history and a companionship with Angel.
La Morte withdrew both blades, smiling as Gunn's corpse fell to the ground with a loud thud. Connor paused right in his tracks and stared at the mutilated body of the man who had been one of his most trusted and loyal friends, someone he continued to respect despite his deep hatred for his vampire father. His blue eyes were filled with tears as he watched the black-armored figure place his foot on the vanquished man's neck and raise the bloodstained swords in the air, answered with cheers by the milling hordes of fanatics.
Fred had watched the battle with trepidation, she tried to secure a steady lock on the black-armored figure who was fighting Charles. She had always possessed a love for the man, and looked up to him as a fighter and comrade. Now, he was gone, his life extinguished by the power of Robert La Morte's claymore. She let out a loud wail of grief for her fallen hero and lover and stared at his mutilated corpse. Her sorrow turned to rage and she raised her crossbow on the black-armored figure standing over her lover's corpse. She pressed the trigger and loosed the bolt at the hateful monster.
Connor exclaimed loudly and clenched his left fist in joy as he watched the bolt bury itself in La Morte's back. It protruded form his back, having pierced his armor. Screams from the fanatics resounded throughout his ears as they thought their glorious commander had died, cruelly slain by Fred's crossbow. But Connor's newfound joy and the fanatic army's sorrow soon disappeared as they watched in horror and amazement at La Morte's reaction.
La Morte whirled around to face both Connor and Fred. His agonized expression was replaced by a wicked grimace as he first sheathed his claymore and then with his right hand, pulled the bolt from out of his back, blood seeping out of the wood. But his was not ordinary human blood, it was a reddish-black reflecting the mix of races he was. But the flow of blood was only brief as his wound miraculously sealed up within a matter of seconds. La Morte snapped the bolt in two and threw it upon the floor. He growled and then his furor was replaced with a sly smile. He walked forward, calmly staring at Fred, who in fear tried to reload her crossbow.
The crowd and Connor watched as La Morte, ten paces away from Fred and out of sword range stopped. He allowed Fred to reload her crossbow a second time and she stared at him like a prey before its hunter, with a mixture of defiance and fear. The black-armored man raised his rapier and threw it as if it was a knife. The projectile buried itself in Fred's chest. She stared down and looked in amazement at the rapier hilt protruding from her chest and then glanced back at her killer before she flopped down upon the floor, joining her lover among the dead.
"NOOOOOO!" Connor screamed in rage and despair. La Morte whirled around to face him while the crowd chanted "Kill him, Kill him, Kill the infidel!"
The knight paused and looked down upon the defiant opponent before him. The pale face of La Morte shined with bloodlust. His lips parted to speak.
"You think you can stop me?" His eyes gleamed with victory and arrogance.
Connor shot back at him with vehement hatred in his voice, "You and your fanatics shall not leave this place with Dawn. If I won't stop you, then the slayer will."
"If you really think that, then you're just an ignorant, silly naïve boy," the black knight chuckled. He looked over to his side and called out loudly, "Angel! Watch and see your son die!"
Angel, Kennedy, Wesley and Xander were all fighting back to back against the endless horde of fanatics. Kennedy sliced away at her enemies, sending them sprawling with cuts across their faces or wounds deep within their chests. When this failed to deter them, she lashed out with anything she had, her feet and fists colliding with the weak flesh. Angel fought beside her, snapping the neck of a howling Hispanic man armed with a sickle and then knocking his comrade, a huge fanatic clad in a brown robe backwards, knocking over a dozen fanatics with his massive body.
"Anyone else wants some?" he snarled in the faces of his opponents.
Then, his ears picked up La Morte's murderous challenge. He ran forward, knocking foes aside, snapping necks and slashing apart with his blade anyone that dared cross him. He reached the circle of fanatics surrounding Connor and knocked aside several wide-eyed foes in time to face the battle between his son and the black knight.
La Morte looked at the astonished vampire before resuming his attack against Angel's son. He waved the finger of his free hand in an insulting motion. His evil smile reflected his intentions and he motioned for the fanatics around him to restrain the wily Angel from intervening in his son's impending death.
The fanatics howled with laughter as they rushed at Angel, the vampire batted them aside in a futile attempt to reach his son. The son he loved and who hated him. The son who had betrayed him but Angel continued to persist with love and devotion for his hateful offspring. His soul panged his body with feelings of loss and love as he lashed out at the ocean of foes surrounding him as he tried to save the wayward son he loved so dearly.
Connor entered a fighting stance as he watched La Morte walk towards him, the latter's cape billowing in the breeze of battle. His facial complexion reflected defiance and hatred for the man standing before him. He attacked first, slashing down with his axe, noting that his foe only had an inch of half-inch on him. He put all of his strength into the blow, which clashed with La Morte's claymore; sparks flew off the blades due to the force behind the blows.
Connor stepped backwards and tried to block the claymore with the back of his hand as he tried to thrust under the black-haired man's guard. His foe switched his blow from a thrust to a slash and sliced off Connor's arm with a savage slice. Connor fell backwards, his plan torn to shreds by the part- demon's resourcefulness. He rose up, blood seeping from his wound and his eyes filled with tears from the pain and loss.
He yelled loudly and affectionately into the crowd before he met the black knight for the last time, calling out "Father, I love you!"
Angel heard his son's strained voice and charged forward, finding a newfound strength in a desperate attempt to save his son. He struggled through the surging mass of bodies deterring his advance, leaving dead and wounded behind him as he unleashed his rage. He finally cleared the mass of fanatics to face-
La Morte effortlessly batted aside Connor's slash with his axe. He seized the boy's arm with his free hand and wrenched the axe from the blonde's grip. He cast the axe aside and seized Connor by the throat, clutching the struggling boy in one hand as he turned around to face Connor's body.
"Let him go and I won't kill you," Angel snarled as his expression of pure violence and hatred met La Morte's smiling face.
"I think not, Angelus, I'm afraid the pleasure's mine," Robert La Morte snickered, exaggeratingly pronouncing angelus in a haughty, supercilious voice. He then raised the claymore and slit the struggling blonde's throat with it, splattering crimson red blood over his black armor.
"Connor! No!" Angel cried as he fell to his knees. His son was dead. Connor was the son who never loved him, the same boy who imprisoned him under the ocean and betrayed him so many times. And now Connor was gone, slain by the same killer who had murdered Gunn, Wood and Fred. All of them had been trusted confidantes and comrades. He glared at La Morte with unfiltered malevolence.
"You're dead La Morte!" He screamed before he was engulfed by the surging mass of fanatics once again.
The tall, black-armored man only laughed his mouth wide open in joy. The laugh reverberated across the room, entering the ears of the remaining warriors who fought with Angel. It was a sound they would never forget and a sight that would always haunt them within their memory. The sight of the laughing dark knight stained with the blood of Robin Wood, Charles Gunn, Winnifred Burkle and Connor walking towards them while his subordinates parted ranks.
But in that dark hour, Buffy managed to secure a victory against another seemingly unstoppable foe named Gideon.