Will and Robert charged the demon, who stood there, arms wide, relishing the fight to come. “Dwarven hatchets and a magic pig-sticker versus demon fire,” it sneered. “Come, little men. Zeristal is ready for you!”

Despite occasional differences of opinion, Will and Robert had spent many a long hour discussing tactics for their characters. And those discussions definitely bore fruit.

They came in, Robert low, Will high. Robert’s axes aimed at the knees, Windsinger arcing over Will’s head. The demon’s right foot lashed out at Robert’s head, while a massive, clawed hand moved to grab Will’s sword arm.

But neither of them was where they should have been.

At the last instant, Will dove into a tight roll. And with skill and strength that belied his small size, Robert leapt up so Will came in under him. With perfect timing, Will brought his shield under Robert’s feet, launching him at Zeristal.

Zeristal’s arrogant sneer turn to shock as one hand dropped to the floor, and Windsinger pierced it’s stomach.