Demon(#Wattys2017 Entry)

Chapter 2:Griffin Strikes

The general barked out orders at the top of his lungs, ordering men to stay in position. Many panicked, seeing squads of enemies attacking their flanks. Some even dropped their weapons and immediately ran towards the enemies, waving their hands in surrender. This earned the General's disapproval."You damned cowards! Get back here!"

They ignored him, for rank mattered little when ones life was on the line. Amidst the chaos, Fyr watched as, one by one, the enemy squads reached their flanks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Each squad was different in composition and size, with the commander wearing a unique variation of the uniform. In the rear flank, the Black Griffin commander was a tall, blond haired man, who carried a scythe in one hand. His uniform seemed more casual, as he had torn off the sleeves of his jacket, cut off the fingers of his gloves, and wore sandals in place of boots.

He looked around."Seems like they completely forgot about da rear flank, eh? Make our job-" He frowned and turned, hearing the hoofbeats of approaching cavalry. He sighed."'Course....that'd be too easy, eh?"

One of his soldiers looked at him."Sir? What are your orders?" He asked, ready to pass the orders along to the others.

The commander shushed him, looking at his scythe."What do you think?" He asked, holding the blade against his ear, seeming intrigued.

The soldier frowned."Um....Commander Giles?"

Giles seemed not to hear, nodding his head as though the scythe had just said something very wise. "I see, I see...but what if-Sorry, go on....ah, makes more sense now, eh?"

Many soldiers began to panic, ready to flee as the cavalry approached. The first soldier shook his arm. "Commander Giles, orders, please!"

Giles smiled at the scythe."Lovely idea." He slid off his sandals and focused. As the cavalry approached, their horses suddenly stopped in place, and the enemies were flung from the saddle. The horses stayed in place, whinnying as they tried to move.

Giles chuckled and pat the soldier's shoulder."There, see? Nuttin' ta worry about, eh? Now-"He raised his scythe towards the enemy, who were struggling to rise in their heavy armor. "Charge!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the left flank, the Paladins stared at the commander in confusion. It was a woman, though unlike any they had ever seen. She had long hair, black as a crows feathers, that went to her waist. She had a face that showed determination, as though carved from stone, adorned with two ruby-red eyes.

Her uniform seemed to be based on her colors. It was a lighter shade of black, with red gloves, boots, and other accessories to accentuate it. On her right side was a sword, long, thin, and slightly curved, with black steel for the blade and a hilt that had been painted red.

The commander of the Paladins laughed. "Is this what they send to us? Just a woman! And a Nrevacian, at that!" His underlings laughed with him, while the woman stood in front of her soldiers, face betraying no emotion.

One of them walked forward, lifting his greatsword that crackled with electricity."Not to worry lads, I'll deal with this lot." He lifted his blade, laughing, but stopped abruptly, a perplexed look upon his face.

The enemy commander held the blade in her left hand. One of her soldiers laughed."Sawalnian Paladin armor. Good defense in legs, chest, and head, but none whatsoever on the neck. Unfortunately for you, that's where Lady Gem specializes in striking."

The man fell backwards, a deep gash across his throat. The Paladin commander stepped back, a look of realization on his face."I...I didn't even see the attack...she moved so fast..." He shuddered."Oh god....that's her. The Silent Sword of Black Griffin."

Gem smiled sweetly at the commander, making gestures with her free hand, an array of signs used to communicate without speaking. The tall soldier behind her translated."She says it's nice to meet you, and that she'll kill you now." The commander, however, did not hear, for Gem had already cut his throat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The right flank was baffled at the man approaching them. He wasn't tall, wasn't scarred, wasn't carrying a weapon. Nothing that made him an obvious threat, and yet he was imposing. He had short brown hair that matched the color of his jacket, reaching far behind him like a cape, many medals of valor pinned to it.

He smiled warmly at the Deena mercenaries, who ran forward, swinging blades."Listen, one merc to another, you don't want to do that. Trust me." As he spoke, he slowly removed the glove from his right hand.

One of the Deena snarled and swung for his head."Shut up!"

The man grabbed it in his hand, and it melted away, leaving his opponent with a hilt in his hands, staring in bewilderment.

The other Deena froze, recognizing the power."That's the Ruin!" "He destroys everything he touches!" "Run for it!" They ran off, and the head Mage growled."Cowards! Traitors!"

The man looked at him, head tilted."Them, traitors? How do you figure that? After all, you're about to help me kill you and all of your mages." He said nonchalantly, as though joking with a friend.

Their leader growled and pointed."Fire!" The mages obeyed, sending flames at their enemy. Smoke filled the air, but his silhouette remained."Keep it up! Kill him!"

Eventually, their flames stopped, and the man stepped out of the smoke, smiling."I destroy everything I touch, and that goes for fire too. And let me guess, you've all used up your magic now, right?" The mages panted, and their leader growled in frustration.

The man laughed."Don't mess with Vaussten the Ruin." He raised his hand, then shook his head."Phew,that was close." He raised the still-gloved left hand instead, put it to his lips, and blew. His men, hidden in the bushes, heard his whistle, and charged at the weakened mages.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These forces met in the center, surrounding the general and his men. The main body of their enemies advanced, lead by a sinister form. It had long, silvery hair that reached its shoulders, though its facial features were covered by a sinister mask, laced with red and black stripes and ringed with small horns. The uniform was standard, and yet, even without the mask, it would have stood out.

This was their leader, The Demon, and the reason for their success. The General glared over."We'll take him with us boys! Charge!" The army of Sawaln charged, men being cut down from all sides. The General himself was felled by an arrow, and wordlessly fell forward, his men trampling him into the mud. Fyr, seeing this, roared and ran straight for The Demon. It seemed startled at this and raised a sword to block, but not soon enough.

The blow hit the mask, and it cracked, splitting in half. Fyr stopped, gazing upon his opponent. He had assumed the mask was worn to inspire fear, or perhaps as armor. Maybe even to cover some deformity on his face.

No, he corrected himself, on her face.

The woman had features apparent of an Eisen, a stern face,as though it had been carved and polished from stone. Eyes, a deep, bright blue that seemed to pierce through him. She would have been beautiful...if not for a birthmark, a large brown spot that stretched from her chin to just under her right ear. Well...perhaps she was beautiful anyway, but the sword in her hands was detrimental to her looks.

He frowned, seeing the skin around her eyes was red and puffy, and seemed damp. Had....had the Demon been crying? A Demon would take glee in battle and the chaos of war, but...here he saw one openly weeping. Perhaps she was an angel, sent to-

Any further thought into this was cut off as she stabbed forward, impaling his heart.

He fell back, and saw the Demon racked with a new wave of tears. His heart pounded in his ears, and so he did not hear her words, but read her lips.

"I'm sorry."

He coughed. What...what was happening? What kind of demon cried? This made no sense! These thoughts were the last thing that passed through his mind. He succumbed to his wounds and perished, another casualty of war.