Demon(#Wattys2017 Entry)

Chapter 1:Army of Sawaln

It was night, and the moon shone brightly in the sky, gleaming off of the steel of the armies weapons. Below it was a sprawling city of red-and-white striped tents, illuminated by torches. Soldiers opened barrels of mead, laughing, bragging, and providing a pleasant atmosphere. The soldiers on duty, however, only glared enviously, waiting for the change of shift so that they could take the place of the celebrators. On the edges of the camp, several ladies of the night waited, fanning themselves until a man felt need to request their services, or until a commander undoubtably drove them away with harsh words and threats. Such was the war camp of the Advanced Army of Sawaln.

In the center of this camp stood a very large tent, decorated with various banners of the army commanders. This was the commanders tent, and plans were being made for the battle tomorrow. The general, A ancient man wearing many medals and sporting a large mustache, sat at the head of the table, his assistant standing behind him."Now, let us review...Right flank?"

One of the commanders nodded."Covered sir. Plenty of our mages there, not to mention the Deena mercenaries."

The general smiled. Sawaln was a unique county, as all of its mages used Bloodline Fire magic, and could be devastating on the field of battle. Many a time had their opponents found themselves with armor melted away, or the fields around them a fiery pit from which there was no escape.

Deena, meanwhile, were a bronze-haired, tan-skinned race of people from the southern nation-state of Tirren. They were trained from a young age how to fight, and they made some of the finest mercenaries in the land. One of them was easily worth their weight in gold, and the dense bones and large muscles of their race made this a very high price.

The general looked to a second commander."Rear flank?"

The commander saluted."We've hidden our horsemen in the woods. If they try to outflank us, they'll be run down before they can even blink."

The general chuckled. This tactic nearly always worked. No amount of defense or battle hardening could prepare someone for a charge of fierce Knights wielding spiked ball and chains, meant for crushing through any meager blocks the opponents could manage.

"And the left flank?" He asked, bringing his gaze to the next person in line.

The third commander grinned. "Paladins,sir." The general smiled. Paladins were holy warriors, trained in the use of powerful Manacast Greatswords and armor. Legends of their bravery and skill were told, and small squads were known to beat impossible odds. The general smiled. "Gentlemen..we are officially prepared for any type of attack the enemy launches."

There was cheering, and the general's assistant smiled. He was a Deena man by the name of Fyr'sit, called Fyr by his friends, and the talk of battle had been pleasing to him. "Ha! I'll bet even Black Griffin'd have trouble cracking this nut!" The merriment stopped abruptly, replaced by a foreboding chill. Fyr mentally cursed himself. In times of war such as this, mercenary bands were common, and many became famous for their deeds.

Triple Dragon, made up of foreigners who carried cases of swords wherever they went, and were even known to throw them like spears or switch them mid-clash. Suddenly having a larger or shorter blade to contend with was something that could throw off many soldiers.

Torn Heart, a band of veterans who had grown bored of retirement and chartered their own army. They took the side of whichever cause suited them, for the chance to die for a cause they believed in, rather than a cause decided by their home nations.

All Sons, run by a religious organization and known not for skill, but for numbers, for they accepted any into their ranks, from half-grown boys to infirm old men and the disabled. It was almost a cult, for the members held a zealous belief in their leaders that bordered on fanatical.