The armored Grotesque climbed up the southwest tower of the
Gothic cathedral. His claws were clinging into the slits and
lugs, created by the engraving and arches along the tower.
An angelic sword has pierced through his armor, deep into
his heart. The soldiers down below shot at him, barrage
after barrage of arrows and crossbow's bolts. Most were
deflected by the heavy armor but some pierced it, adding
more pain to the creature, which sighed in agony.

Minutes ago, he saved the beautiful princess from being
killed by two enemy's agents. The two, armed with long
swords, chased after her into the cathedral courtyard. They
almost got her but the Grotesque glided down, spreading his
metal wings and stormed the agents. The weight and speed of
the Grotesque made the impact powerful enough to knock them
both down. But they endured and started hitting him with
their swords, which bounced off his armor. He drawn his
retractable scythe and in one swift blow slashed their
throats. They fell dead on the ground.

He looked at the princess through the narrow eye-slits of
his Gothic helmet. She was so fair and so lovely, her long
blond hair, mingled with orange-red, crowned her shinning
face with golden halo. Her tender hands rested gracefully
over her white dress. She looked back at the Grotesque with
fear mingled with loathing. The Grotesque folded and
retracted his scythe and then bowed down before the
princess. Although he saved her life, she drew back and
shouted for help. Hordes of soldier stormed the place, armed
with halberds, swords, bows and crossbows. The Grotesque saw
them and started to flee. He jumped onto the base of the
southwest tower and started to climb up.

About half an hour ago, the Grotesque saved a beautiful and
graceful country girl from the hand of armed muggers in the
outskirts of the city. He took her up in his armored arms
and flew with her to the defensive wall that surrounds the
cathedral, where he knew they could find safe place to hide.
But as soon they landed on the wall and the Grotesque wanted
to remove his Gothic helmet to show the pretty girl his face
an Angel landed on the wall, the Angel drew his angelic
sword and stabbed the Grotesque. The sword pierced through
the heavy armor and the Grotesque screamed in agony. He lost
his balance and fell off the wall into the old cemetery,
which lied outside the cathedral courtyard. He saw the angel
takes the country girl and soars with her into the sky. He
sighed in despair.  

There he lied, half alive, half dead. Rain started to pour
down upon the earth, and lightning bolts blazed the sky.
There he lied, when he suddenly heard an angelic female
voice screaming for help. He recruited all of his power to
get up the grass and barely stood on his feet. He limped
toward one of the defensive towers in the wall and started
to climb upon him. Amid the sound of thunders and despite
the slippery wet stones, the Grotesque made it into the top.
He looked over the Gothic cathedral - the colossal
structure, with his twin western spires, scraped the sky;
and its decorated façade, with its round rose window in
the shape Lilium Candidum that formed a Star of David
(Hexagram), was a master piece of geometrical perfection.
This Gothic cathedral was a thing of awe, a thing of beauty,
a sublime effort by the petty mortals we know as men.

Only after few seconds he took his sight off the cathedral
into the marbled floor around it, there he saw armed men
chasing after a beautiful princess. Of course, he went into
action. Although he was mortally wounded, he jumped off the
tower and glided swiftly and knocked town the two. They
attacked him with their sword but he killed them with his
retractable scythe - a weapon worthy of a Gothic Grotesque,
a loathsome creature that secretly yearns for heaven,
secretly. The princess, who was terrified, instead of
thanking him, screamed for help. Hordes of soldier stormed
the place, armed with halberds, swords, bows and crossbows.
The Grotesque saw them and started to flee. He jumped onto
the base of the southwest tower and started to climb up.

The armored Grotesque was climbing up the southwest tower of
the Gothic cathedral. The rain became a flood and lightning
bolts with successive thunders hit the sky. He climbed
slowly but determinately up the cathedral. He lost two
ladies in one day. Maybe through the massive but celestial
Gothic structure he could soar up to heaven. Maybe.