Demon Night 666
Mar 6th, 2002, 01:28:40 PM
Very little remained of the ancient city. The work of countless generations was reduced to rubble in a battle that lasted little more than three days. Skeletons of walls and buildings rose in a shadow of their former glory; silhouetted against the dawn of a desert sky. Tendrils of smoke snaked upward from the smoldering ashes to join the hazy cloak that shrouded the city.
A lone warrior rode through what remained of an archway, over smashed gates that had barred the enemy for thousands of years. Scattered among the tumbled stones and burnt timbers were the people who once lived there, thier bodies a mute testimony to the battle that had raged through the city the day before.
With the sights and sounds of battle still fresh in memory the warrior didnt appear disturbed by the carnage that surrounded her. Her mount picked a careful path through the rubble, the animal alert to its footing even though its head hung low with exhaustion.
Demon Night's face remained expressionless, the warrior was unmoved by these deaths as the countless others she'd witnessed. The people of Leri had refused to surrender. Their city had been besieged until nothing remained of their defenses and no single struture stood whole that would provide any shelter.
They had died. Such events had been repeated too many times over the years for Demon to anything but the bone-deep fatigue and satisfaction that followed a long battle.
demon's combat armor and that of her mount were covered with ashes, crusty with sweat, the leather stiff with dried blood.
Another combat uniform ruined, she thought idely, gazing down at the once white and black fabric with the scarlett symbol emblazoned on her chest. Only the stitches that outlined the symbol distinguished the symbol from the rest of the mutilated fabric, luckily, this time none of the blood was her own. With an annoyed sigh, she nudged her mount forward again when the animal ambled to a weary halt.
She saw the shield first, the sign of the Khoasian empire on a firey red feild. It lay just outside what might have been the home of a prosperous merchant. The half-naked body of a woman lay next to the shield. The soldier demon was looking for lay face down just a pace from the woman, with body of a younge boy sprawled half on top of the soldier.
Demon considered the scene with the dispassionate logic of one who enjoys war and the atrocities of war. The boy was probably the womans sone or younger brother. He'd likely saved her from the first but others had finished what the first had begun.
Demon dismounted and nudged the soldiers body with the tip of her boot, rolling the corpse onto it's back. She reached inside the soldeirs combact armor and removed a silver necklace with an efficeint jerk. Next she a ring form the dead mans hand and placed both items safely inside her armor before she remounted and turned the beast toward the edge of the city.
Normally demon wouldnt bother with such trinkets, but the King of Khaos would be displeased if his favorite sons signet ring and necklace fell into the hands of infidels. The personal effect would also prove that he died in battle, rather tham meeting and ingloriious death from one of the many tortures inflicted on khaosians by the mijain captors. She knew the bards would compose sorrowful ballads for the younge prince, full of brave deeds and glory, with no mention that he died attempting rape. Demon doubted her own ballads would be so generous if she fell in battle. No, there were ballads aplent about Demon Night, and none could be called flattering.
A small group of soldeirs had gathered near the outskirts of the city an no one pointed toward demon as she emerged from the ruins. The men turned as a whole to watch the approach of their leader, each trying to guess demon's mood as she rode from the city. The king was sure to be upset at his favorite sons death, but demon had showed no mkore concern over this death than she would for a common foot soldiers. Some wondered what it would take for any emotion to cross thier leaders face.
A younge soldeir hurried forward to hold demon's mount as she dismounted, and older looking soldier named vince thembarri stepped away from the group to greet his leader.
A lone warrior rode through what remained of an archway, over smashed gates that had barred the enemy for thousands of years. Scattered among the tumbled stones and burnt timbers were the people who once lived there, thier bodies a mute testimony to the battle that had raged through the city the day before.
With the sights and sounds of battle still fresh in memory the warrior didnt appear disturbed by the carnage that surrounded her. Her mount picked a careful path through the rubble, the animal alert to its footing even though its head hung low with exhaustion.
Demon Night's face remained expressionless, the warrior was unmoved by these deaths as the countless others she'd witnessed. The people of Leri had refused to surrender. Their city had been besieged until nothing remained of their defenses and no single struture stood whole that would provide any shelter.
They had died. Such events had been repeated too many times over the years for Demon to anything but the bone-deep fatigue and satisfaction that followed a long battle.
demon's combat armor and that of her mount were covered with ashes, crusty with sweat, the leather stiff with dried blood.
Another combat uniform ruined, she thought idely, gazing down at the once white and black fabric with the scarlett symbol emblazoned on her chest. Only the stitches that outlined the symbol distinguished the symbol from the rest of the mutilated fabric, luckily, this time none of the blood was her own. With an annoyed sigh, she nudged her mount forward again when the animal ambled to a weary halt.
She saw the shield first, the sign of the Khoasian empire on a firey red feild. It lay just outside what might have been the home of a prosperous merchant. The half-naked body of a woman lay next to the shield. The soldier demon was looking for lay face down just a pace from the woman, with body of a younge boy sprawled half on top of the soldier.
Demon considered the scene with the dispassionate logic of one who enjoys war and the atrocities of war. The boy was probably the womans sone or younger brother. He'd likely saved her from the first but others had finished what the first had begun.
Demon dismounted and nudged the soldiers body with the tip of her boot, rolling the corpse onto it's back. She reached inside the soldeirs combact armor and removed a silver necklace with an efficeint jerk. Next she a ring form the dead mans hand and placed both items safely inside her armor before she remounted and turned the beast toward the edge of the city.
Normally demon wouldnt bother with such trinkets, but the King of Khaos would be displeased if his favorite sons signet ring and necklace fell into the hands of infidels. The personal effect would also prove that he died in battle, rather tham meeting and ingloriious death from one of the many tortures inflicted on khaosians by the mijain captors. She knew the bards would compose sorrowful ballads for the younge prince, full of brave deeds and glory, with no mention that he died attempting rape. Demon doubted her own ballads would be so generous if she fell in battle. No, there were ballads aplent about Demon Night, and none could be called flattering.
A small group of soldeirs had gathered near the outskirts of the city an no one pointed toward demon as she emerged from the ruins. The men turned as a whole to watch the approach of their leader, each trying to guess demon's mood as she rode from the city. The king was sure to be upset at his favorite sons death, but demon had showed no mkore concern over this death than she would for a common foot soldiers. Some wondered what it would take for any emotion to cross thier leaders face.
A younge soldeir hurried forward to hold demon's mount as she dismounted, and older looking soldier named vince thembarri stepped away from the group to greet his leader.