Scribble: This would be more dramatic with set-up.

      Ornate metal fingers wrapped around the shaft, knuckles creaking as they tightened their grip. Trembling slightly, the brass and copper figure stood at the ready, its mechanical eyes blinking but once in their scan of the horizon. Brandishing the mighty hammer from the forge, the survivor stood as a great knight of old, lacking only the flesh beneath the armor.
      Perhaps I am all that is left, it thought, head bowing with its unseen burden, but so long as I exist, there will be others...
      In the distance, a great roar burst forth, parting the very mist and shaking the walls of the mountains. A single red orb of light shone through the sudden gap, as the clanking of poorly-fitted joints ripped through the air.
      It is time, thought the survivor, nodding its heavy, round head. Digging the treads of its feet into the ground, it quickly shifted powerful legs from a defensive stance, bounding high into the air.
      Just as rusted claws swiped madly through the fog, fierce mechanical eyes bore down on the beast, the hammer's head falling swiftly before its wielder...

Scribble: Things I could not write down at the time.

      There came a pounding at the door, as those gathered within braced themselves for what was to come. As the door finally gave way, bursting from it hinges, the survivors huddled together behind the overturned tables. Only a brave few stood, some quivering, others still, their eyes locked on the shadow outside.
      He entered, a lumbering beast of a man, his pale skin wrought with ink and steel barbs. Prepared to lash out, his cold, grey eyes fell on the faces staring at him.
      A single pair of amber eyes awaited him. There, standing between broad-shouldered men, she stood, her youthful face grim and fierce, a small hare ready to strike at the falcon overhead.
      Staggering back, the beast could not look away from her defiant glare. Though all others possessed such strength to be a challenge, only this small creature forced the cudgel to fall from his hand, as a lone thought filled his mind:
      Is this . . . fear?