One of the patrol was yanked away, screaming obscenities and firing wildly into the black abyss that surrounded the men. Swiftly silenced by a sickening crunch.
Of course, the Arsonist was too concerned with blasting the writhing, dark shape in font of him with his makeshift, petrol-fueled flamethrower. It screeched like that of the damned, and though he could not see it's form that was cloaked by an unnatural darkness, he caught a glimpse or two as it was illuminated by it's current state of 'illumination'.
It was. Unspeakable. Were those eyes or mouths? By god, were they both? Those shouldn't be there, shouldn't have that many. His grip shook, and his heart raced, yet he only grit his teeth and focused more of the flame onto the eldritch foe. He was certain that, with enough fire, even the most horrifying foe could be cleansed. It's wailing reached new heights, and it fled at a speed revealing of it's somewhat small stature. Fleeing as so burning and screeching into the dark underbrush.
That one, at least had been defeated, but it was only one of how many the eighteen strong patrol fought. As the other men of the IAF fought with savage desperation utilizing bullet and bayonet, the Arsonist turned his Flamethrower onto another one of the terrible shapes, or perhaps it was more than one? Sweat poured from both intense heat and frayed nerves as he freely sprayed burning petrol at the enemy. As he and the rest of the patrol fought, with deafening shots, determined yells of defiance, and unnatural screeches, He could not help but recall at how this was supposed to be a simple scouting mission into the deeper parts of the Everfree.
As his targets were sent wailing and writhing to the ground, he doused them once more with purifying flame, before turning his attention to another beast. In the early days of their deployment, one of the scouting teams that were sent in this direction never came back. Not even echoes of gunfire to mark their absence.
Now they knew why, at least. They just needed to tell Command what lies back in these Darkest Depths. But first, they had to get back to the Base as soon as possible. They couldn't handle this for too long.
A rifleman was sent to the ground as he was pinned under one of the foes, already he began gurgling through blood as the creature began to all but flay the flesh from his bones. Crimson flew as bladed appendages blurred with speed in their gruesome work.
It was with little hesitation that the Arsonist torched them both. They couldn't keep this up, not with these casualties, but it seemed that the assault from these unknowable things was beginning to slack. Once all was quiet, they could flee with all due haste back to the Portal Base.
He refused to die here, in the dark, filthy undergrowth. He had not come this far to die now.