Okay, bit of a mega-post here, let's see...
While I can see what you were aiming for with the latest snippet, there are quite a few places where the rhythm feels wrong. Rhythm, when writing such a dynamic scene, is very important. For example:
"Without ceremony, he lunges at me, hoping to stab me before I reach level ground."
reading that aloud (best way to find the rhythm, I find), I found that, among a few other examples, didn't flow so well... to illustrate.
"Without Ceremony (brief pause) he lunges at me (brief pause) hoping to stab me before I reach level ground."
Now, let's try this:
"He lunges (darts, perhaps?) at me before I reach level ground, hoping to stab me before I find my footing."
Okay, that wasn't quite what I originally thought would work (I'd just shuffled a few words around originally), but... the rhythm does seem to work better. Also, there are some word choices you might want to look at (maniac== manic)... but I still got the gist of it (intelligent khornate beserker in an epic duel)... still, keep 'em coming, we all have our off days!
You make the changeling apocalypse sound plausible, and I can't find any technical faults with the writing. This, in and of itself, makes the Host of a Thousand Princes (Part II) good. Only criticism? wasn't sure how Spring was being... well, Spring-like, beyond the challenging bit of desire making (god, that sounded awkward!). Autumn, was, however, spot on... deal-makers and fear workers, to the very end!
Also, welcome to lerg2, looking forward to seeing your snippets!
Aaand finally, because I hate just posting critique...
Lamb of God
A World of Darkness Vignette
Father Michael kneels, praying to the God he no longer believes in, and wondering: When, Lord, did I fall from Grace so badly? His sins are unnumbered now, mostly murder and deceit, but the hate and disgust that has formed in his heart proves too much for even a man of the cloth, God's most favoured. He mouths the words of his faith, his tongue leaden and his heart heavy, as he thinks of the latest of his sins.
Holy Father, if you have any kindness in you at all, save old Finlay, he inwardly cries, and Damn me, Lord, for having led him, once more, to the path of temptation. Let him hear me no more, even if monsters walk your Earth, tools of the Evil One.
But, as always, there is no answer. Father Michael knows, has known for years, that God has turned his back from the fair isle he calls home. Even were it not for the bombings, the fear, and the hate that culled the young in their prime, and led man to kill man, claiming that they acted in His name, the filthy liars, he would believe so.
Monstrous creatures, obviously of the Devil, walked the earth. How else, then, could Father Michael explain that painful night, the night he lost his dear wife to something bestial, something with fangs and claws that, even today, shone red with blood in his mind?
Since then, he had seen more... oh, so much more. Men who claimed God's grace, yet acted as if they were the Light themselves. Vampires, eaters of the dead... even a marionette that cut the hearts from men, thinking it would help her become one of God's best loved...
No, thought Father Michael, as he finished his prayer, No, poor Finlay is as lost as I.
He sighed heavily, and prepared to open the church, even as his mind ran through its well-treaded grooves. After all, I, the shepherd, have led my lambs astray. And I shall continue to do so. Not in your name, Father, for I am lost to you. No, all in the name of hate. Hate for that which offends you. I damn myself, and others, so that still more can be saved.
The thought didn't comfort him as much as it used to.