Roaring like a wild beast, the air splitting, winds stirred into being by the sole strength of every consecutive hits, Gartran ravaged the area as he tried to catch the corpse cloaked in red, only that this undead was a slippery one, agile and dexterous, using his war scythe as as pole to leap high.
The cloak obscuring the details of his movements, the apocalypse knight jumped over a low slash, bringing his weapon perfectly horizontally, hand placed close to the blade, the rest of the handle right upon against his arm and back, erupting with the great glow of holy death, in its brilliant center, a shine of a dark red screaming combat.
Surrounded by the holy, the red was allowed to spread over the blade of the graven scythe, seemingly growing solid, expanding its size and reach, standing perfectly straight, the red and holy intertwined as the knight simply rushed forth without his posture changing at all.
