Another mighty Warlord

The following is relevant to the next chapter, it provides the backstory for a highly unusual foe. The reason I point out that it is a foe now is because just about every force they encounter tries to kill them or vice versa, thus it is quite obvious. By coincidence, it is also an exercise on violence. I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to inform me as to whether or not I’ve got it back after all this time.
Note: This is clearly an antagonist. This is also sort of a filler until I'm done with that prequel and the chapter because, stupidly, I challenged myself to do both at once. Thank you for your patience.

` = a line of ` means we’re about to go first person, generally for a more direct look at an event.

Somewhere far away, in a dimension which was composed of one slowly expanding solar system and three infinite planes, a boy was born on the sole inhabited planet in the solar system. This place had slightly greater overall density than our own universe. He was born unmarked by divine touch and was brought up unbaptised and otherwise ignored by the divine.

The gods of this odd dimension were known as God and Satan. The former was the elder and had created this place to rule over or mess around with as a means of occupying time. The latter was a rebellious angel who aspired to greater things than kowtowing to an often capricious deity, so he stole power and became a god himself. The two have warred ever since, and thus was God’s intent for this place fulfilled.

The young man grew bitter and angry, and his lust for power was insatiable. He saw the state of his fellow man, he saw the fate they were destined to from an outsider’s critical eye and was displeased. So at the age of thirteen he took a pitchfork, his robe, his sandals, his hat, his sickle, and set out to make something of himself.

He cut throats, skewered men and women alike, and stole what he could. Though many hunted for the slayer of their friends and loved ones he was never found and often the devil was blamed for his misdeeds. After a time his banditry gained him the attention of more than angry peasants when he made a daring raid on the armory of a city, in the midst of the robbery while the homes and businesses of citizens were burning all around some angry men and even women joined him, so began his band of raiders.

Before they left that doomed place they hit the prisons and dungeons and loosed those they held. Many were heathens who refused the word of God and so endangered the rest simply by existing. The heathens and criminals were glad to join this young man, now fifteen, and take some loot before fleeing.

The Devil was watching from his fiery castle and was pleased by this youths antics. He saw a potent soldier for his infernal armies, a commander forged in blood. He had been watching the youth for some time and knew that he was merciless and held little pity in his heart. Indeed, the very first thing he’d done before setting out was committing the murder of his own parents. So Satan sent a lesser demon out to collect the young potential.

But when the demon came to him with offers of power and pleasure everlasting the man laughed and had its right hand chopped off and put in a sack to carry back. As he put it, “This is a message to your master, tell him I’m coming for him.”

Satan was quite displeased by this, if not for his understanding the messenger would have been slain. All the same, Satan began to plan this young man’s demise. If he would not submit in life then surely his deeds would send him to hell in death, where he might be broken in with time.

Satan tested him constantly, he tempted his soldiers with riches. Most of the soldiers were too loyal to break away, and those that left knew nothing of their former leader that would aid the dark one. He warned the man’s prey of his coming. The man either went after someone else or made it so his ambush was unavoidable. He poisoned the food and water wherever he went, but the man and his soldiers only ate specially prepared food and only drank purified water or water mixed the beer or wine.

Satan was furious. So one day, as he came into a succubus’ mouth, he dreamt up a most cunning plan. He sent out his agents to gather the man’s foes, who now numbered in the thousands and that’s without counting personal armies, and appeared before them as a handsome young gent. He told them of his woe, how this evil young man had besotted his daughters and stolen his herds, and he told them of how he had searched for months to find him, this wicked youth. As the crowd became filled with righteous outrage he told them, his voice travelling across the mass as but a whisper, the young man’s location.

The young man could hear them coming from many miles away, and they shook the earth with their footsteps. The young man was oft said to be bold but he too could be cunning. He and his soldiers, men most of them, dug pits and laid traps in front of a grand cave whose depths were a thing of legends. When they’d done all they could, and the enemy was far nearer than the horizon, they ran deep into that cave and waited for the annihilators.

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Rook’al crouched in the dark. His armor was all steady and his spear was clean. Iron chainmail protected most of his body, from his neck to his shins, like a long sleeved shirt and pants. Plates of steel covered his shoulders, thighs, upper arms, and his chest. He wore a helmet that left his face open but protected the rest of his head. He had a mask of chain over his mouth to protect it. Sandals with iron studs on the bottoms adorned his feet.

He looked to his three companions who waited behind him, they were similarly armored men. The screaming was getting louder, that meant they were pushing through. The traps had surely taken their toll but what numbers he saw on the horizon told him it didn’t make much of a difference. He began to whisper a war chant learned from his deceased grandfather, dead when the Christians came through with their Christ and their steel. Those behind him took it up and they sang together.

The other teams were out there, somewhere in the cave. They were going to ambush them, just like they usually did, but this time it there were many more trained and properly equipped soldiers. They all waited for an interminable time until the sound of boots and sandals and even bare feet on the cold stone floor was so close that the enemy was surely there. Then they crept along in the dark, they dared not light torches to alert the foe of their positions, and listened and watched the foe passing.

Like blind things they stumbled and tripped in the dark, some were maimed from the cruel implements put out by the master and some were merely scraped by the rough journey into this dark place. They bumped into each other, and tried to stop and let their eyes adjust, but the human tide prevented them from getting this chance. They couldn’t stop because they had to move or they would be pushed forwards and possibly fall and be trampled. So they had no hope of seeing the menacing figures in the darkness.

Rook’al almost chuckled at what he saw and learned. This plan was almost too perfect to bear. The boss sure was smart. He could barely stand the wait but until the sharp triple clack sounded he didn’t move. When it did he was silent, they were ordered to silence to minimize casualties, and thrust his spear into a man’s neck. This was first blood in his mind.

The man fell without a sound and was stomped by those behind him and they cursed his clumsiness. Rook’al was somewhat annoyed by the fact that his murder went unnoticed but he did not complain, instead he stabbed another man in the throat and smiled as he fell. He stabbed and stabbed, again, again, again, again, again, again, again, and again until someone almost bumped into him to get around the pile of semi crushed bodies.

He felt rage, he knew his companions were doing the same further along the line and was almost amazed at the stupidity these people were displaying. Apparently his master really was the smartest man alive. After a little longer of silent murder in the dark he had to stop, someone had finally noticed the holes in the necks as he stepped on a corpse and screamed murder. They were aware that a dangerous bandit and his army were in here so they naturally stabbed outside of their little column and began to scatter into the darkness thinking that their numbers would ensure that they found the murderers in the dark.

They were right but not in the way they thought, because the murderers were already beside them. Rook’al stabbed a man through his throat as he turned to face him before moving on to the next. The next was more of a challenge, swinging a sword wildly and not holding still long enough for a clean kill. So Rook’al stabbed him in his armpit and he screamed. Rook’al laughed before finishing him off through the neck hole in his armor. Rook’al liked to think his own name when he thought, it felt right and it helped him to remember it. It also made him feel like he was a hero in one of the old tales.

Rook’al slammed his spear across a man’s legs and chuckled as he fell, Rook’al stepped aside as another blindly ran at him and slipped in the big pool of blood. How they hadn’t noticed this was a mystery to him.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa....” He breathed and then the enemy began to panic.

They swung everywhere they went, Rook’al saw opportunity. He stabbed and made little cuts from random angles to give the impression that they were surrounded. They began to scream more loudly and slice or stab at everything around them. Now this was getting really fun, he didn’t even have to kill them himself anymore since they were cutting each other to ribbons out of fear!

Rook’al kept cutting them like this until his arms were tired, so he wandered off to grab a drink. He felt that he’d earned it.

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Satan was infuriated by his failure. He gave up on subtlety and sent an army to kill the annoying little man. The annoying little man was over sixteen years old when he found himself pitted against Gorgoroth the black, a mighty dragon who’d terrorised the earth in his dread master’s name since ages untold, and the army he was given to extinguish this human.

The young man was amazed by the massive beast, it was at least three miles long and spat fiery death.

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Mordecai, lord of the Blood Reavers as he called the infamous raider army, was pumped. A demon roared, fire spewing from its eyes and mouth, and I chopped its face in half with my sword. I stabbed the same demon up through its belly a moment later as it fell screaming. Members of my elite force, the Red Hand, hollered and laughed right alongside me. They were true to their gangland ways despite their great experience.

All around me, monsters raged and fought. But they could not stop us, we were like a living battering ram. I whipped up my spear as I spotted a horned demon mounted atop some monstrous thing. I rapidly gauged the distance, determined it to be in range, and hurled it at the freak with the sharp looking black trident. He didn’t change his expression when my spear punctured his oversized eyes and entered his brain, then again it didn’t look like he had enough to skin to change it anyway. He did yell.

“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhh!!!” I covered my ears with my empty hand and my arm to blot out the painful noise.

“Filthy wretch can’t handle his pain can he?” Asked a nearby Claw, my term for the members of the Red Hand, with a grin on the half of his face that remained. The other half was mostly bare skull, his cheek was covered with gold we’d bolted on. We’d actually found it like that, there were even special grooves that looked made for the nails, which we’d found with it too.

“Ergh, quite true Fellis.” I replied through gritted teeth, he laughed. I think that gold we bolted to his face is messing with his head.

I heard a roar from above, so deep and loud that I felt my bones vibrating and my teeth wouldn’t stop shaking up and down. I looked up and saw something so big that I was amazed that I hadn’t seen it before. It swooped down and opened its mouth the engulf a group of my soldiers in fire. I frowned.

“Fulgur.”

“Yeah boss?” The man wore a blue cloak and wielded an axe in one hand and a shield in the other, he had a spear too. His head, outer arms, lower legs, and chest were sheathed in steel. He looked more like a myth than reality demanded.

“We need to take out that dragon.”

“How we gonna do that?”

“Simple, I get high and grab it. That’s all you need to know. But where to?”

“There, boss.” He pointed to a tower like structure, I knew it couldn’t be a tower because it was moving.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know, but it is tall.”

“Good enough.” So I started towards this strange, moving, tower. I swiftly caught up to the nearby Red Hand and resumed the killing.

I stabbed a demon though its dark eyes as it leaned down to bite me, gore sprayed from around my sword. I whipped the tip across its chest and grimly smiled as the skin split and blood and grey stuff spilled out. It reared its head back and wailed as I dragged an edge of my sword down its chest, more blood and grey matter leaked out. Claws joined me in killing it, axes chopped into its ribs and legs while spears stabbed into its flesh.

It fell shortly and me and three others carved into it further, to make sure it stayed down. We moved on when it stopped twitching. As I moved past its head I dropped my sword, tip first, into its other eye to reach into its brain. It didn’t even moan. I swept my sword forwards to slice the arm from a demon as it was busy dueling with a Claw, it roared and turned to me which only presented its bony face for me to slice at. It would have used its other hand to rend me but the Claw it had turned away from stabbed it within the bounds of its collar and it fell with a moan. I kicked it in the teeth.

Next foe was a big lizardy thing, it was disturbingly arousing. Don’t quite know what had me thinking that, it lacked breasts after all. It was lean and... had other qualities though. At least it stood upright on two legs and wasn’t drooling everywhere. I knocked it over the head with the side of the butt of my sword, because the bottom was sharp and it had two sharp edges, and it turned to me. I have no idea what went through my mind when I kissed it on the mouth, it reared back and spat repeatedly to get my taste out. Then I chopped what I am sure was a her’s head off. A pity really. I wonder if she’s still alive.

Funny was the best way to describe the hideous thing I now faced, it was like a fool had mated with a fly and decided to teach the offspring his family trade. It was colorful and had frills everywhere. Yet my sword did not cut through the frills, so I stabbed it in one of the thin slits present along its neck-type area. That had it, it screamed and squirmed and blood gushed from it and slicked my armor. Foul black stuff it was, unlike the red or green or blue or... Demons have too much variety I now realize.

My legs fell from beneath me and I stabbed up as something leaped on me. It screamed like a rat, weakling. I kicked it away and wiped the blood on my skirt, it didn’t help much seeing how much blood was already on it. Just great, now my clothes are getting ruined. How am I going to get this filth out of my once clean cotton? Something grey lunged at me and I automatically slashed it across what opened into a very long, fanged, mouth.

“Grraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!”

“Shut your hole demon!” I yelled as I stabbed into the roof of its mouth, I wonder if my sword is getting dull from all this use.

It swung its head side to side as I dug past the glinting teeth that covered seemingly every surface of its inner mouth. It tried to bite me but my Claws started blocking it with the tips of their spears. A regular rushed past me, on boots that looked like they had soles of steel, into its throat with a double edged axe held high. A few moments later it gurgled and stopped trying to bite, the regular ran out screaming something about babies.

Ignoring this oddity I moved to where I’d seen that commander fall, the spear still stuck out of his huge black eye. I smiled and pulled it out and placed it in its holster on my back, I saw the demon’s trident. A beautiful thing, truly. Solid black, three prongs, the left and right sides of the prongs were sharply edged for slashing as was a third of the length from the tines. This would be useful.

I sheathed the sword and held the trident in both hands, now to test it out on something angry. The chance to do so rushed at me in a blur of claws and possibly teeth. I thrust the trident forwards and impaled the weirdo. It screamed for a moment before the trident pierced too deeply into what I must assume were lungs, then it was limp. I angled the trident down and it slid off the smooth metal. This was good.

I resumed my killing with a swing into a big demon’s chest. Spiked tentacles lashed out and grasped my arms, this annoyed me so I kicked it in the ribs while using the trident to hold me in place. It roared and tried to pierce my armor, it was slowly succeeding. I snarled and pushed harder against it, but it was much stronger than I. Thankfully I was not alone, the nearby Claws stabbed into it and in pain it released me. I slid my trident out and lanced it through the fiends upper jaw and yanked it backwards, and thus down.

The big fellow fell and we fell upon him like we had so many others, he was a mass of sliced and pockmarked flesh when we were done with him. We ran off of the carcass and made to resume killing, invigorated by the fresh violence. Some men may not like it but we love the slaughter, it practically runs in our blood.

I impaled a shrimp of a demon and it fell, it travelled with a swarm of like beasts and we fought them as fishermen might. They were ended in short order and we continued towards the tower, I spun the trident so the sharp sides were vertical and stabbed a sword wielding demon in the chest through its chestplate and ripped the trident down. It fell, it internal organs falling out, and I stepped over it as some of my compatriots took a moment to stab it while it was down.

I carved through a demons skull in one blow and my confidence soared, this must be some odd property of demonic weapons. Perhaps they fight each other so much that they enchant their weapons to do more damage to their compatriots? If so, then what would they do to an angel? I’d seen the horrific results they wreaked upon those men they hit, flesh burned and blood boiled and sprayed out, so what would they do their most hated foe?

I sliced a demon in half through its waist and impaled it through its skull as it fell. I felt incredible, bloodlust surging through my veins as I killed with speed. This feeling is intoxicating. I stab some angry feathered thing that seemed to lack a head through its upper portion and it fell to its double knees, I pull my trident out and sweep it across that same spot and it pitched backwards. I kicked a demon as it flew at me and heard a crunch, it was... satisfying. I impaled it for good measure.

Another rushes me, I thrust the tines through its skull and eyes burst. Beautiful. I slice another demon warrior’s throat and it grasps at it with a free hand, I slice the hand off and watch as it falls. I slam the side of the trident into it as it falls. I use its chest to boost my jump, a much taller beast is behind it and its back is turned to me. It’s busy chewing on one of my soldiers, its task will be its downfall. My trident pierces its spine and I rip it across the bones that should stop me, it makes a squeal like a drowning pig but I do not relent. It blood sprays across my face and soaks the cloth over my mouth. I am almost inclined to taste of it.

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The warrior and his retinue slayed many a demon to reach the tower and such made them legends. But the greatest of all was the lord. He scaled the tower and the great beast it sat upon and he threw the device he found there from its height and left the horde below in chaos, then he challenged Gorgoroth himself. Gorgoroth thought to smash down the upstart, it would both accomplish his task and help him regain status for this challenge issued.

Mordecai stood alone, his forces were busy fighting the screaming mass below. The air reeked of bile, demon ichor, blood, carrion, and smoke. It was hot despite the height as he stood against the current, staring grimly into the darkness. It was night and he’d been fighting for three hours with few stops. He might have been glad for the coming battle but a dragon was no laughing matter.

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I grip my trident tightly, I must not lose hold of it. I hear a roar, he comes. I can see him now, blotting out the stars and plowing through the smog. I have mere seconds before he is on me, something that big can move vast distances very quickly. I am tense, tense to keep my muscles ready for what may be the greatest fight of my life.

He swoops down, his jaws gaping wide enough to swallow me whole, and I roll to the side. My armor protects me from whatever this hard surface below me is. His claw sweeps by and tears much of the tower apart. I am barely able to stand on what remains. I wait for my opportunity, there! I leap and grab a spine projecting from near the base of his tail. Now it’s my time.

I pull myself along and get my right leg into a position to hold it. I pull out my spear and place the trident in its clasp, I grip the spear in my teeth. The trident would have hurt my teeth or been too difficult to grasp. I lunge from one bony projection to the next, he does not make it easy for me. He swoops and spins with no apparent purpose other than feeling the joy of flight, his colossal wings create waves of pressure with every beat. It is almost torment.

As I lunge to the next spike I am almost certain he is aware of my presence. His orange eyes surely spotted me when he glanced back a moment ago. I have no choice but to continue. Luckily I am an agile man. I leap to the next and soar past it as he bobs down, I wait and remain calm. No point panicking when I can’t do anything about it, besides, this could be good.

It is good as I manage to catch a spike much further ahead than I could have reached in the same time, I hang from it and dangle over the side of this huge beast. I can feel him tilting this way, he is trying to make me fall off.

I throw myself further with my slightly rested muscles and grasp another spine, I hold on tightly as he makes a complete spin, my legs flail wildly below me. As I am temporarily righted I throw myself left and forwards to make sure I stay righted and begin to jump across his massive scaled body to maintain my upright stance.

His spinning comes to a stop and I fall and grasp the nearest spike, which is slightly behind me, to keep the wind from pulling me off. It runs over him with such speed that a hurricane might envy it. I struggle to push forwards. He begins to fall and I leap from my spot to move further forwards. As he rises from his killing below I grasp another spike, now I am roughly three quarters of the way up his body.

I remain silent, the wind is too strong to laugh, and must squint my eyes to see. He must know I live because he begins to thrash. I am certain he did not expect me to take advantage of this by leaping with little abandon to move further long, if he had stayed his course I might have become exhausted and been sucked free to die far below. But with him twisting and thrashing about he interrupts the air flow and allows me the opportunity to jump to a better spot at the cost of bruises from his hard scales despite my armor.

He learns this, as as soon as I am halfway up his neck due to a bold leap in the dark he resumes his forwards flight. I am forced to pull myself against the wind using his smaller and more closely spaced spines now. From time to time he makes little shakes which play havoc on my grip and slam me against the behemoth’s immense body. I groan in pain as I feel my legs being rubbed raw.

I pull myself along all the same but then I notice that is is getting harder to climb. I look up and see that we are going up, he is gaining altitude rapidly by flying straight up. How such a beast can do so is a wonder. I hold my breath and grip him tightly. It is cold up here, so very cold. How can he stand it? It must be his scales, he doesn’t seem bothered in the least.

The air is growing thinner, I can see something past it. Its... dark. Blackness infinite, spotted with stars. The world looks so bright down there. My skin hurts, it hurts so much, like something pulling on me from the inside and trying to make me explode. It passes as we dip back to the earth. My bones feel stiff as do my skin and my muscles, my ears are bleeding and it burns my skin. The air is so warm down here, like a blanket. It is brighter, that is obvious as the light gleaming off his scales is rough on my eyes.

I force myself forwards, towards his head and hear tiny tearing noises and feel sharp pinches. I grunt and keep going. The popping in my ears is incredibly painful. But I force myself forwards until I am right behind his head. He is unaware of me, my weight is as nothing to him.

I pull myself along and brush past his ears, he knows of me now, he roars but I am unable to hear it clearly. My ears are in too much pain already. He shakes his head vigorously and I clamp on. He gives up and lets me get closer. Then he tries to throw me up. I take this as the opportunity I need.

I spit the spear up and grab it in my right hand. I brace my feet above his eye and his pupil widens as he realises his doom, my spear thrusts down into his eye and almost certainly pierces his brain. To make sure I draw my trident as he tilts down and am glad I braced myself as the air pressure pushes me towards his skull as he falls. He is screaming so loudly, I drive my trident as deeply into his great eye and allow the pressure to push me in.

His bulk shields me in the impact, that or the vast amount of dragon I swallowed.

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So did Mordecai slay Gorgoroth the black. The meat made him stronger indeed, as he emerged from his bloody skull in perfect health. He dragged the carcass to his men and shared it with the survivors. How he did this is unknown, something that big simply can’t be moved by men. Mayhap he used some freakish power to drag it, all his men saw was his muscles at work.

They drank of the blood and ate of the flesh and became strong indeed. They went on to pick over the battlefield and take what they desired of the dead, Mordecai himself kept that demon’s trident. He also took some pets from the few that still lived. Including an odd lizardy thing that shouldn’t have survived without her head.

The devil was stunned, he was certain that Gorgoroth alone would have been sufficient to end him. After that he left the warrior alone to think on his next move. He did not want to risk a failure against this mortal again.

The mortal’s deed was not unnoticed by the rest of the word for God itself was pleased by the spectacle he provided. It was one of the most entertaining things it had seen in years and all of humanity was rewarded for it. Good harvests, life giving rain, mild weather, calm seas, all lasted for a time. God decided to send an angel to congratulate this young man who was surely on his side.

The man had attracted a great many heathens and heretics to his banner and forged a kingdom in its own right. They created a sea of tents and more sturdy homes that stretched across a great plain, herds vast enough to feed this semi mobile city grazed across the land and vast flocks of birds soared through the sky and at times blotted out the sun. It was good.

The lone angel descended to from high and approached the lord, he dwelt in the skull of Gorgoroth as a tribute to the beast. As the lone angel made her way she became unsettled. She began to notice signs of heresy amongst the populace of this place. She was but eight meters from his home when she saw such a blatant display of the worship of false gods that she had to act. She engulfed the painted men and women, who were in the midst of an orgy, and burned them with holy flame.

The screaming called Mordecai forth from his home and he became enraged at the sight.

Five years had passed since Gorgoroth’s death and he had reached the age of twenty one. He amongst the hundreds of his original warriors was most affected by the old drake’s blood. His eyes had gained an orange glow, just like Gorgoroth’s, and his muscles were like iron. So had the whites of his eyes turned orange too even though his brown irises merely grew darker. His teeth could penetrate steel and his dark gold skin was like the finest of armor. What made him more intimidating was that he wore armor formed of the dragon’s hide over which were his smallest scales.

He took up his old spear and hurled it at her as her head turned to him and it speared deeply into her unarmored chest. She had come down in ceremonial robes, not soldier’s armor. As she fell he drew a heavy one edged axe and rushed at her, she tried to stop him but he cleaved into her midsection and cut her off. He ended her with his trident and the unholy weapon burned her. Thus began his war with heaven.

God was annoyed by this. It was like a formerly friendly insect had bitten him on the finger when he tried to pet it. He decided to give the insect a few more chances for it surely knew not of its error.

Mordecai took his people to a place he had learned of long ago, a place he had sought to claim for his own since he’d caught sight of it. So began the great migration, while most went with their lord some were left behind to guide travellers to the new location and to provide them with provisions before they resumed their journey.

God sent his agents to convince him to repent, but either they were turned away at the gates or they were refuted vehemently. God had an agent sent down to seduce him into the light but the agent failed and was axed to leave in piece. The final attempt God made was to send a pair of women down who would slowly show him of the benefits of worshipping the one referred to as the lord of lords.

They tried for two years. Mordecai had them in the palm of his hand at age twenty-five. They and the lizardy thing became good friends fairly quickly. God became angry but not quite angry enough to really bring down the forces of the natural world to smite him. He was too entertaining to just kill off, God hadn’t had such a good laugh in an age. So he decided to mess with him by alternately helping his people things like rain and good weather then hurting them with things such as gales and floods. It wasn’t so bad, everyone involved laughed it off and so they apparently didn’t take it badly.

After that joke got old God demanded that Mordecai take his army and march out into the plains, part of which they’d abandoned, and fight his own army like men. Mordecai finished whatever he was doing and got his boys ready. They got hyped up and marched out onto the plains with bloody murder in mind.

The foe was the Archangel Damian and the angelic host he had lead for a long time. His mission: to tear Mordecai asunder and so end his heresy. Following which they would purify the dark city he’d built in his image.

The two forces stopped two hundred paces apart and glared at each other.

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Python was alone though he was backed by thousands. He stood with his sword on his right hip, his spear and shield in hand, and all his armor on firmly. His helmet protected all but his eyes and separate plates were chained over his ears to enable him to better hear his foes. His forearms and upper arms were plated in steel as were his lower legs and thighs. Sabatons protected his feet, gauntlets protected his hands, a cuirass protected his chest. He was not a light soldier, he was at the front for a reason. His faintly glowing yellow eyes glared at the foolish angels who’d dared to challenge his master. He was one of the elite dragon hybrids known collectively as the Red Hand, individually they were Claws.

I surged forwards almost as soon as I heard the horns of war, the sound was a deep and terrifying sound. I knew that the others by my side were doing the same, just as the winged terrors before me did. Some took wing while others stayed on the ground, my targets were primarily those that strode the earth but the flying cowards would bleed too.

I felt the blood rushing through my veins, the delicious mix of anger and joy that came with every battle. It was a thrill like no other, better than sex even. Some thought me queer for it but many of them would die this day. The wind is at my back, pushing me onwards with greater speed. I suspect my lord has a hand in this.

The first are roaring and it sounds like an uncounted number of harps and flutes playing in perfect concert. I love that hideous sound. We are close now, barely ten paces apart. They keep up their pathetic attempt at a roar even as we close. A sword cuts perhaps three inches into my shield as I heft it to block an overhead swing. I pull my shield to the side and spear the angel in his heart, going over his gorget to reach past his collarbone to the beating organ below. His screaming rises in volume and pitch and disrupts the formerly beautiful choir, the same is happening all across the line.

I’m pushing him down, the little screamer wouldn’t fall on his own, when I see a spear tip with a white glow coming at me. I snort and swing my angular shield across to knock it aside. I step on the dying angel and rip my spear from him before I bash the little cretin before me with my shield. I step heavily on the angels face and my sabatons crack his skull but it holds my weight, I am off balance by this strange circumstance. I am almost killed when the angel before me leaps on my shield and almost knocks me down. Luckily the dragon’s blood made me strong, so I throw him to the ground and impale his face.

Once more I am struck by the durability of these things. His skull is resisting my steel headed spear, I shove harder and finally pierce is brain. He too screams for I-don’t-know-how-long, until I hear a crunching noise behind me. I almost turn to thank whomever silenced the monster but I am forced to direct my attention to the singing above.

An angel above swings a double edged axe at me, I step aside in time and try to stab him with my spear. He smacks it aside with his axe and slams me down with his wings. I roll aside and thrust up with my spear again, he grabs it and flings it to the side. I grin manically though he cannot see it.

I reach to my side and draw the sword of a demon I slew and brandish it at him. He frowns deeply and raises his axe high. He swings it down and I move to the side and stab him through his breastplate in the time it may have taken a man to blink. The dragon was very helpful after all. He tur grasps the sword, though it burns his hand on contact, and holds it steady even as his wings falter. His other hand raises the axe again and I blink in surprise, why are these angels so tough?

I pull desperately but the sword won’t budge, he must have a grip like an elephant to hold it like he does. I give up and release my grasp before he can finish his fatal swing. I rush back in and punch him until he stops moving, I have to brace my feet against his chest and pull very hard to get my sword out of him. How he was so strong is a wonder to me. No more holding back.

I rush forwards and slice off a head, moving like thought I lop off an arm. I slice an angel’s head in twain and kick him so hard he is sent backwards to knock his companions back. I charge and am upon them like a wolf among rabbits. I stab them all through the brain before pausing and slicing their heads off and kicking them away. I leap and stab a flyer through a wing and pull him down to bash his skull in with the butt of my sword. I am in my element, I am actually on the verge of sexual arousal.

I feel good, I feel strong, I feel like lightning given form. I blur forwards to cut an angel into three uneven pieces before stabbing his brain and moving on to another. I get behind him and cut off his wings before slicing his head in half vertically, the blood doesn’t have time to reach my armor before I move to my next kill. The angels did not expect this, their screaming becomes more fearful. The fear invigorates my muscles and urges me on to this next one.

This one is pretty, not like the males. This was because she was a woman. She reached out at my neck with what looked like an arrow with no flights. Why use such a small weapon, I put my shield in the way and it went right through. Oh. I jumped over her as she tried to fly over me and sliced her head open. I kicked off her and stabbed into another, higher, flyer and impaled this man in the chest.

His head turned towards me and he tried to shove me off, I punched his head ‘till it cracked and he began to fall. I jumped to the next angel and saw some of my brethren doing the same. This one I stabbed in the heart before jumping to the next. This was one of the gifts we took from the dragon, by eating his flesh and drinking his blood we were made better.

I slaughtered the next with a swipe across the chest and followed it with an downturned blade through the top of his head. I backflip off and smash down on another, who I triple kick in the head before his mushy brains spill across my sabaton and I jump to another. This one I catch backwards and my sword enters his spine and ribcage, I laughed briefly before headbutting him in the back of the head and ripping off a wing. I had no reason for the brutality I displayed, and will keep doing, besides a sort of cruel pleasure gained in the destruction of bodies.

I leap to another and he is either smarter or faster than the others, maybe he just got lucky. He swings his arm out and knocks me down before I can grab him, surprise is a big factor. I fall to the battlefield but I refuse to die like that, when you reach my level of greatness you can pretty much choose how you go. So I direct my fall so that I will land on an angel in the midst of the lesser soldiers.

My feet down on his or her shoulders moments after their spear impaled a man through his breastplate and pierces his heart. I smash down on the angel and slash down through the screaming mouth as the lessers take a step back in surprise. I merely nod to them before running off to rejoin the fight, there is no time to be lollygagging.

The battle had grown more intense, winds rip men from the earth and the ground shakes and spikes at will.It was a briht and clear morning minutes before but storms crackling with lightning are creeping across the sky to blot out this glorious day.

I heard the screaming rise in pitch and leapt over my compatriots to return to the angel-slaying that was so fun. Instead I came in time to witness a truly titanic battle.

My lord, he was fighting. Alone against what looked to be an enemy commander, if the six wings were anything to judge by. I staggered closer as wind whipped by and almost pulled me from the ground despite the weight of my armor. As I watched my lord swung the jagged remains of a sword at the angel, who smashed the blade into even smaller pieces with his own sword.

I kept moving closer, my lord launched himself into the sky yet again. I now understood the purpose of the wind, it helped to lift him into the air. My lord swung his favorite axe at the angel from above his right shoulder. The angel slapped it aside and the axe was blackened where he hit it. My lord was grabbed but kicked free.

I was determined to aid my lord, but angels were in the way. They made runs against him, breaking off when they were cut down. So I decided to use them. I lept at the nearest and was tossed about by the wind. It threw me like a toy and I wondered at the strength of these beings to stay airborne in such weather.

I don’t know when I impacted the angel, only that I almost puked when I did. The angel tried to turn his sword on me but I threw my shield out and grabbed his wrist. We struggled but I proved to be stronger, I used him like a kite. He struggled but we had similar aims really, I wanted to get closer and so did he. We tumbled through the air as we wrestled for control. This was getting ridiculous, the angel was starting to win because he was clearly adapted to this sort of thing. Which made me question if he’d ever been ridden before.

The angels paid no mind to their colleague lest it was to get out of the way of the struggle, so intent they seemed to be on my lord. Then I got an idea, the first angel didn’t seem to like my sword very much. Perhaps I could distract them by showing it here too.

So I held my sword high and made sure the angels got an eyeful of it. It made them very angry.

Soon they were sweeping at me and slicing my flesh and armor, I swung my blade at them too but never thought to turn it upon my mount. I didn’t want to lose my grip on this sure surface. So soon the other angels began to die even as I grew weaker, an angel slammed into me and almost knocked me off. Luckily I had gouged a deep hole in his thigh as he did. Another slammed an armored fist into my helm and dented the metal almost into my jaw.

The next one didn’t get away so easily. She got the sword in her eye and it ripped through the top of her skull as her momentum pushed her along. These white winged furies had no idea what it was like to fight one such as I. I was shoved again and stabbed him deeply into the shoulder and was almost ripped off by the tug. I think my angel is dying. I glanced down and saw his face was pale blue, my grip on his neck did not relax. I scored a good hit on the next angel that rammed me from the front in a bold charge.

He took me with him though, I kicked his freed comrade in the back of the head as I came free. I admit that I am a monster but I am very good at being one. This was made more apparent to the angelic menace when I stuck my sword through the shoulder of an angel in passing and used the force of the flat pushing through the bone to whip myself back in the air.

The angels resumed their attacks on me and I endured the razor wind with a smile on my face and a sword in hand. I was smiling because I heard a powerful being screaming, one that was most definitely not my lord.

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Mordecai won the battle and claim Damian’s sword for his own. Now God was angry. It sent earthquakes rippling across the earth where his soldiers walked but something stopped them. God traced the source to find who dared defy its will and found, to hits silent horror, that it was Mordecai. Mordecai had grown even stronger when he fed on Damian’s body, thus adding the might of an archangel to that taken from Gorgoroth.

Now Mordecai worked on his secured territory to better fortify it. He took metal and stone and lumber and giant bones and built walls and a great fortress. He knew what was coming. He didn’t just use mortal material however, a nasty surprise soon learned by his enemies.

Satan called to God and asked for a truce, he wanted to call a ceasefire and make a pact to unify them until this upstart mortal was put in his place. God agreed readily. Together, they made what is possibly the largest army this world has ever seen. The population was greater than many nations of men, and it was not entirely made up of the denizens of the divine plains. Mortals of both sides flocked to this army and though they competed bitterly, they had the same goal in mind. The earth shook miles away from them when they marched, they had to be careful and space themselves out so that the men and earthbound demons could walk.

Siege engines of ambitious size and warbeasts unknown were present in this army, and because it was being funded by divinity it never wanted for supplies so logistics were unlimited and therefore no issue. Mordecai knew of them because they were causing an earthquake on their way there, but he was in no way worried.

His fortress city was untroubled despite, or perhaps because of, its positioning. He’d built it atop a plateau that was ten miles across and circular in shape. It was eight thousand feet tall and the only way up was a winding slop that was only wide enough for ten horses abreast. This limited the number of soldiers the foe could send via land.

The plateau itself was a terrible thing. It was ancient, and with good reason. It was formed of earth, the ruins of civilizations past, and the bones of the ancient dead; men and monster alike. The fact that it was mostly made up of the second and third was a testament to its age, the length of the war being fought prior, and to the sturdiness of the material of its make.

This would be the longest ongoing siege in history. the defenders were well armed and well supplied by mines deep within their plateau and the attackers had numbers enough and the determination to wait it out. For twenty-five years the city was besieged. Attempts were made to storm it from the front but they could not break the gates, attempts were made to storm it from above but they were repulsed by arrow and cannon, attempts were made to storm the walls from immense siege towers but these too were repulsed by cannon and valiant defender alike.

At one point they tried undermining the whole thing only to find they couldn’t knock it over. While most who reached the walls died, not all died on them. Others were taken and their souls were ripped free and made into unbreakable chains, twenty in total protected the roots of the plateau and these were lashed to a very large demon they’d captured in the field. The demon was made to strain against its bindings for all eternity or until something killed it, this kept the plateau stable and made the air smell like lavender and fresh cut roses for whatever reason.

So many assaults were repelled, and Mordecai gained yet another demon’s weapon at some point. The mace of Malefic was a terrible thing, the spiky thing made a mockery of armor and killed demons and angels as readily as mortals. It was easily his greatest weapon, with it nothing could stand against him.

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Carver licked his fangs as he watched yet another giant tower approach. He’d been born during this siege and as far as he was concerned, it was just the way things were. His entire world was the distance he could see from the plateau and as far as he knew the world had always been this one fortress under siege by an infinite enemy. They had always fought off the enemy with cannon and bow, ballistae and catapult, catapulta and cheiroballistae, fire and steel and ever would the enemy return for more. He was certain he would die when something inevitably killed him and his children would eventually take their place on these walls and die and so would the cycle continue until the end of time.

He had heard tales from the old of a time siege was but a distant dream their master prepared from but these were just that, tales told by old folks who were likely going senile. The Claws certainly never spoke of this so called “before time” and they never lied. So he was here, it would keep the enemy away from the people and he cared for the people. Why they attacked, he did not know or care. It was just the way things were.

I readied my sword as the machine approached the wall, its ramp lowering on chains. I could feel the wall’s anger, it was a living thing really. I knew it hungered for blood and it hated the foe who dared to shoot it with their cannon balls and stones. I rubbed the bottoms of my feet along some of the tiny holes in its surface and felt its reassurance at my touch, the holes were for blood to drain into and feed the massive thing.

My armor was odd, at least when compared to what the city guard and the enemy wore. Pauldrons on my shoulders that linked into the cuirass, similarly I was armored along my upper and forearms and my hands were protected by thick gauntlets. I breathed through a grill along the front of my helm that passed over my mouth and saw through what may have been glass, the glass did a good job of keeping stuff out of my eyes. Projections from the sides and back of the base of the helmet extended a little over my shoulders and back to provide further protection.

My legs are not as armored as my torso with greaves for my legs and sabatons that protected my upper feet and were strapped by a few strips of leather along the bottom. A heavy, angled, skirt of metal covered my legs halfway down my greaves. It was all clearly designed to protect my upper body while leaving my lower body free to maneuver.

I feel like a light tortoise in this stuff. I held my spear ready in one hand and my sword in the other, some men readied their rifles on stilts behind us. I could hear the things sliding into the divots on the floor, I laughed and soon the others were laughing too. Most of us were born in the so called “Siege Era” and most of us knew that the crap the elders spewed was exactly that.

The boss was older than most of us but never talked about that crazy stuff so he was cool. He raised his arm and we all held our spears in the ready position. These are solid steel, soul touched, weapons that have tips coated in weird powder stuff taken from the mines that causing the enemy to ignite wherever we stab them. Seriously, blood doesn’t put this stuff out. It is awe inspiring.

The ramp lowered and a storm of bolts flew out only to bounce off our angled front armor, it’s said to be kind of like the prows of those ships you see in old paintings but I’d say it’s more of a wedge. Its really useful for plowing through enemies too. The greaves and cuirass have the same wedge front while the helm has a similar but more aquiline shape.The enemy fired another volley of bolts and we weathered these with equal aplomb, they just bounced off anyway. We could wait half day if we have to, it’s part of our training even. I decided to idly chatted about the price of fish with my nearby buddy.

“‘ey Reek, you notice how the price of a pound of cave mackerel went up a whole shard the other day?” I like the way these helmets distort our voices, makes us sounds more awesome.

“Oh yeah, tha’ sucked. Sucked like that angel I bought last week! Hahah, but not in a good way. She’s really quite good at that, mmm, to think she was supposedly a virgin.” He replied.

“Hah! Virgin where?”

“Everywhere, ’til I bought her ‘course.”

“Hahah! I hear that man. You know that red Succubus with the green feathers, those heart-stopping hips, and breasts to kill for?”

“Mmm, I know the one.”

“Been saving up for her, got a shield collar and everything.”

“Everything, really?”

“Yep, even got a replicant crystal so that she can safely feed on my soul.”

“Damn, you really like her don’tcha?”

“Hells yeah man. Why the heck else would I be growing out my soul so she can eat it?”

“Ha, if I believed in it I’d say you were in love.”

“Mmmyeah, may as well be man. Hey, when do you think they’ll let up?”

“I dunno, guess when we stop talking.”

“Hah! True, true. So how’s the family?”

“Same ol’ same ol’. My cousin got into a management position down in the tunnels.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, apparently he’s celebrating with his cave buddies.”

“Huh, what's that pay?”

“Well, I don’t know. Not for sure. But I hear he makes thirty whole cubes per hour.”

“Shit! You serious?!”

“Like I said, I’m not sure. I’m going off rumors, some whispered by family. But I don’t know why else he would spend twenty freakin cubes on that party of his.”

“Holy Mordecai’s feces! Damn, now I’m wishing I’d gone into that.”

“Bah, you know this is where you belong. Besides, not only is it more fun up here but if you were down there you woul’nt’a met me now would’ja?”

“That’s damn right!”

Moments later the enemy rushed forth from within the tower, I had what felt like a shit eating grin on my face when I saw them. Now this is more like it, freakin armored demons! As one, we stepped forwards and loosened our formation. This allowed the gunners behind us to loose their missiles without harming us. The demons grunted as bleeding holes were punched into their armor. We simultaneously tightened formation before marching forwards again.

I waited for a good opportunity before using my first thrust, I wasn’t going to waste the burny stuff on a wounded foe. I blocked a demon’s sword with my own and slash his throat open. Another demon’s trident scrapes along my armor and I look at him. He gulped as I saw that he looked untouched by the bullets, probably because my spear lunged at him almost of its own accord. But it halted, reared back, and lunged up as an angel tried to attack me from above. The angel screamed as it burned, the glow was blue from inside but white when it came out.

The demon was not lucky because my sword impaled him between his eyes a moment later. I twisted it and he fell. The angel bounced off my angled armor and fell to the floor. I was certain that a light soldier was checking it now. I tilt my sword so that the demon slides off the blade and smile at him, then I focus on the next figure. A strong looking demon, rippling muscles and glowing red eyes.

“You there, ugly!” I yelled at him.

He looked at me like he was having trouble believing me, at least I think that was the expression. Kind of hard to tell with such a strange face.

“Come on big boy, fight me!” I laughed.

He shrugged and launched himself at me, his axe bounced off my angled chestplate. I stabbed him in the chest and he roared and kicked at me. His foot bounced off with a thunk, didn’t even dent me. Now that he had to stay close, I carved into him with my sword. He screamed and slammed me harder.

“Nice try but you aren’t having any success. How about you kneel down and save yourself.” He gripped the spear’s metal shaft at my words.

“It’s not bad, really. If you submit on your own we’ll take real good care of ya. We’ll patch you up and get you on the market and a strong fellow such as yourself should sell fairly quickly.” I attempted to persuade him. He began to pull away.

“If I force you by, say, knocking you out you’ll find something much worse waiting for you.”

He didn’t listen. Too bad, I swung my sword’s flat into the side of his head three times in rapid succession and he groaned. I did it again, harder, and he fell and gripped his head. I pulled my spear from him and called for a scavenger team.

They swarmed over him less than a minute later and sedated him even as they dragged him off. This was so funny, they always try this. They always fail, maybe I’ll find a sexy one this time around. Mhm, that would be lucky for me. I know I’d get a nice big bonus for that. Something metallic rushed me from the tower and I grinned and braced myself.

It slammed against my chest and almost fell, Its arms slammed on my sides and it actually began to push me down. Tough bugger huh? I slammed the shaft of my spear into it but it ignored me, I saw another knock one of my allies down and frowned. I swung my sword and that worried it, it jumped back with a burning hole in its side.

It made weird clicking noises as it rushed me again, I made and overhead slash and it wisely jumped back. I ran at it and slammed my weight into it, it fell after a moment and I swung myself back upright. Then I planted a foot on its side and slowly dragged my spear down its midsection. It flailed its limbs while I peeled it open, I saw brown and was confused. I pulled my spear down a little harder and realised it was some sort of mechanised suit, cool.

It split the thing open, from top to bottom, and saw a figure wearing goggles that were hooked up to the machine. The figure had its limbs strapped in too. It probably couldn’t get out on its own. I made little incision along the places where it was bound, the burn marks would identify them, and the figure screamed. It sounded feminine. When I cut its hands free it pulled off the head piece and I got a look at its face. It looked female too. I struggled to free itself, it was obviously scared of me. As soon as it was able it reached for a dagger and tried to stab me, I knocked the feeble weapon aside with the tip of my spear and swung it back up to cut its heavy chest armor vertically. Definitely a woman.

“Carver here! I need a scavenger team! One female and one large machine!” I yell, a few moments later a team rushes up and pulls her out despite her protests. I hear a cannon boom and see something big topple out there. The gunmen fire into the air as the angels swoop down, though the bowmen are already firing, and many fall. Life is good, tomorrow I can buy that Succubus and I’ll have extra cash for whatever.

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Noting how terribly they were faring the gods made the decision to call out a secret weapon. God called on this one who was beyond his power hesitantly, for he was not known for his kind nature. Payment would be required at some point and it did not want to risk too much.

This feared being was younger, yes, but also much meaner. He was roughly six meters tall and completely covered in smooth, shiny, whitish/silverish metal except for his eyes which had lenses of clear, reflective, crystal. Great wings spread from behind his shoulders and his feet bore singular hooves the size of dinner plates. A long and deadly sharp horn sprouted from his head, behind his eye lenses. His metal fingers were razor sharp at the end, just push on them a little and you would be cut.

The gods came together and discussed the issue, he decided what he wanted and also reserved the right to the souls of those who died by his efforts and so he went oto accomplish his task. He was not alone either. Angels two and a quarter meter tall travelled with him. They were armored in fully enclosed helms with long visors for them to see; and their chests, upper arms, forearms, lower legs, feet, and crotches were similarly armored.

As they came into this new environment a spell acclimated them to the local pressure and prevented their bodies, which were used to much heavier gravity and far greater density, from rapidly expanding and vaporising. They came armed with smaller guns that barked or coughed or roared when fired, some spat bullets while other spat flame. So tough were they that their bare skin was enough armor against the firearms of this world, they only had to keep their helmets on to ensure that they had enough air to breath.

They descended on the plateau where their prey nested, already gathered up for the slaughter. For once the besieging forces were quiet as they watched in awe as these figures came upon the foe they had worked so hard to beat with so little success. As cannon and gun shots blasted out they expected some of the figures to fall. None did though some were clearly hit, and soon screams of fear were heard from the beings on the plateau, the first they’d heard in years. The besieging army considered joining in, but decided that they’d rather not get caught in the crossfire and slowly dispersed.

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The angel was happy, then again he was always happy. It was how he and his kind were built. This was not a local angel of course, this was one brought by the Destroyer. He was tall, his wings were huge, his armor practically indestructible, and highly motivated. His weapon was a shotgun with settings for long range, close range, semi automatic, and full automatic. The weapon wasn’t designed to run out of ammunition either, and the shells would dissipate a few hours after they were fired.

I stood quietly with my brethren. My head was empty of thought, why think without purpose? I feel and see magic coursing over me, the pressure is shifting as is what I perceive.

“Hah!” I gasp, now I am in the air.

I spread my wings and flap them with instinctive power, I see the creator. I do not so much think this as simply see the Destroyer and automatically move into formation with my brothers around him. I am happy, this is partly because I am certain that we get to kill after being in the vault for so long and partly because I do not know how to be happy. Once some-being had managed to capture me and was trying to extract information from me via torture. I laughed, and smiled, and even thanked him while he was doing horrible things to me and screaming at me to tell him secrets that I knew not.

I readied my shotgun, I simply deactivated the safety with my mind. The helmet links us to our weapon, mine has a nice big bayonet under the barrel that allows me to cut people who get too close. The only external control on this gun is the trigger ,and that’s something called an aesthetic.

I see the objective, it is marked on the screen on my visor and also provides firing solutions and targets. It does other stuff too, like providing me with the perpetually recycled air I breath. I swooped down towards the infrastructure, I did not look but I knew some of my brothers were doing the same. We do not think at times, and when we do it is very fast.

My black feathered wings pump harder and shove me through the air faster as a cannon ball flys at me, I have no intention of dodging it. I smash through the soft projectile headfirst, I doesn’t even slow me down. I keep formation with my brothers. We are all the same being, just with separate bodies.

I see men in armor that has obviously been designed for this environment running about and aiming spears and other weapons at us. I know the second flight will take them. All will die, so the orders on my visor say. I point my gun at a man behind the wall in smooth metal armor, it is like a shell. I fire in tandem with my brothers and seconds later a big hole is punched in his chest and he falls backwards. I am happy to see him die.

I keep flying towards the city as bullets spew from primitive guns at us, those that hit bounce off my armor and even skin with barely a sting. They are not prepared for us, how could they prepare for us? I point my gun at another figure, this one is nearly naked. He tries to run but I shoot him in the center of his chest and he falls with a big bloody hole where his heart was. I point my gun at my next target, the rate of fire is increasing, and I shoot her in the chest as well.

I feel the soft yet satisfying kick of my gun against my chest. It kicks because I do not will it not to do so. Soon I swing my gun at another man and shoot him, then another. Both fall with bloody holes through their bodies, bullets burying themselves into the floor after passing through their bodies. Now we are becoming less united with our shots, soon the tempo will increase to the point where simultaneous firing will not be feasible. This pleases me.

I shoot a woman, a man, a man, a woman, a woman, a woman, a woman, a man, a woman, a woman, the list goes on. Bullets and arrows bounce off of me, they cannot harm me. The weapons they use are too light, too slow, and lack the density required to injure me. Death is my purpose in life, I am very good at this. I never grow angry, nor do I feel bloodlust, simply joy.

I land to better find my prey, they have begun hiding in bunkers and homes. I kick a nearby door down and enter, a shovel bounces off my head. I turn to the male with the speed of sound and slice him down the middle with my bayonet. He falls in two pieces as I turn to his nearby family and slaves. I shoot them all. Blood sprays around the room and on me, I ignore it and search the rest of the house. There are eight rooms, three are occupied. Gunshots ensure that when I leave, nothing living remains in that domicile.

I move on to the next house to the right as I exit and kick down this door too. A bullet pings off my chest plate and I shoot the shooter through his own chest. No heart means no survival. I turn my bayonet on the other males and females as they rush me. The blade cuts their flesh and bone effortlessly as I swing it. I could have shot them but didn’t, I do not know why. My sensors indicate more prey is to be found in this living space.

This one has eight rooms just like the last, only one is inhabited. A pink skinned being identified as a Succubus on my readout is sitting on a bed while cradling a human baby. She looks at me and I identify fear in her pale yellow eyes. I raise my gun, she drops the baby on the bed, I blast a hole in her chest.

“Please, spare... The... Baby...” She begs as she dies. I walk up to the infant and it cries out. I point my gun at it as it looks at me in wonder, I destroy it with a single shot. The bed gains a second hole and another bloody stain.

I exit the building calmly. I move on to the next to the right, there are possibly thousands of homes above and below the surface in this city. We will kill all we find in every one. We do not feel pity, we do not feel fear, we do not feel sadness, we do not feel anger, only joy. We do not give mercy, we do not give solace, we do not give anything but what are ordered to, and that is usually death. We always obey. It is our lot in life.

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The Destroyer and his army killed everything in that city. Even the mighty wall was slain. The chains, unbreakable to the natives, were shattered and the foundations of the mountain replaced. They came from a much tougher place, trying to breath the air there would be like filling your lungs with rocks. But, when he had Mordecai on his back and on the ground the Destroyer didn’t kill him. Instead he tilted his head to the side and seemed confused.

The confusion soon left and, with a chuckle, he decided a potentially worse fate for him. He sent him to the dimension that made him what he was, not the place of his first birth but that of his second. He ripped the slaves and soldiers and citizens from hell and limbo and sent them along too. He even gave them some beasts, buildings, their weapons, their armor, and their tools to start off. Of course he acclimatized their relatively soft bodies to that heavy place on arrival.

Then the Destroyer left to go do other things, like eating that cake he’d been meaning to for around twelve years now.

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Mordecai emerged from what looked like certain death into a frozen waste. He felt like he was being crushed, then something tingly coated him and he felt better. He stood and glared at his surroundings, and moved aside as a building appeared above him and almost crushed him upon landing. He felt for his weapons and saw they were in their custom made sheaths.

I staggered out through the cold and the snow and ignored the cries of my citizens and their property. They were appearing rapidly and falling into this snow coated land harmlessly, unless something heavy fell on them. I had seen something strange. I stared at it for a moment and brushed my eyes, it was still there. I beheld a ghostly horse in the distance, it looked like it was looking back at me. It was in the sky, why it was in the sky I do not know.

I looked over to my right and saw heavy pines, laden with dark green leaves and needles. Among them was a big hairy elephant and something else by its side, never in my days had I imagined their like. What is this place? I coughed, blood.

It had been so long since I bled. I reached down to my belt and pulled out an ordinary steel knife, I dragged it across my palm and blood leaked from the wound. It hurt too. I covered it with my other palm and struggled to heal it, it sealed up with agonizing slowness. I heard inhuman screams in the distance, paired with equally inhuman roars.

My knees are suddenly too weak to support me, I fall and stop my chest from hitting this freakishly cold place with my other. I stop nary two inches from the snow, so deep is it that my hand sunk right in. I force myself upright and glare at the sky, much of it is blotted out with heavy grey clouds. I sheathed my knife before I lose it and pull out my trident and sword.

I feel anger, I was so strong before. But now I can barely heal a little cut, that monstrous thing is at fault. I raise my trusty weapons to the air and scream long and hard, there will be a day of reckoning for that metallic beast. I swear it upon my immortal soul.