Sunday, February 19, 2012

Invasion - Daemon style!

"M'Lord" It said, "they offer terms." "TERMS?" roared Harakj, interrupting his maniacal laughter. "Three days of continuing laughter" thought It, "if I had nerve endings I'm sure this would be very grating." "Yes M'Lord, terms" It replied. "No terms, no discussion, end them." It retired from the Great Hall, not quite able to walk, but not quite slithering either. 

Six hundred years It had served, one Chaos Lord after the other. Each thinking they were the greatest, equal to the Gods, until one or other of them plucked him back to the void. Come and go, each Lord stamped his own mark on It, he was sure he had a name at one time but what was the point in having a name when your body changed so often. 

Outside went It, the courtyard stank of rotting flesh from the ritual. The pillars still stood, occasionally issuing a coloured bolt of lightening. Interestingly, at least to It, those bolts either deposited another daemon or plucked a living sole and pulled them into the void, seemingly at random. 

It continued down to the dockyard, a massive construction of metal and stone. The elf stood, shivering so badly he could barely stand. It remembered fear, just about. "So Elf, no terms" It pointed to the newest hell canon which was being dragged and prodded towards the gathering train of siege equipment. "You see elf, there are your predecessors" the elf turned and what he saw pushed his senses to far, he fainted into It's arms. The  last elven delegation wasn't alive exactly anymore, their soles where being used like a carrot to lead the hell cannon demon. "Nasty things those demons," thought It, "so unreliable." It looked down at the elf, one of the marauder guardsman reached to take the elf from his embrace. "No, let him return to his masters." At the touch of It the elf was changed, so corrupted by chaos that anything he touched eventually rotted to nothing, a living rot to spread the great plague. It turned back to the palace, looking back, his head completely rotating around It addressed the marauder, "you had better increase the guard, expect black clothed elves to visit." 

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