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Fantasy Band of Demons (Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy)

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TanteRegenbogen

TanteRegenbogen

Cuddly enby auntcle
Between the nations of Deubel kingdom and the Evaronian Empire, there was a war that spanned for years. It was bloody and was supposed to be the empires latest aquisition, but the Deubel kingdom stood securely. Desperate to win the war, the empire ended up using an arcane weapon of mass destruction, a so called world-ender. The Deubel kingdom was turned into a smoldering wasteland and most of it's population had perished. Those who found protection in a cavern or underground would find themselves likely dying soon as the crops were destroyed and there were no sources of food outside. The Deubel kingdom's royal family ended up trying to summon a demon to lay waste to the Empire. They intended to sacrifice their eldest daughter as they believed a beautiful untouched royal would be of high value. The ritual backfired as the family ended up being sacrificed instead and the intended sacrifice turned into a demon lord.

Now this demon lord is to find heroes of their land and bestow them with demonic powers to get revenge against the empire. While there is revenge in mind, some of the heroes may be more heroic or villainous depending on how they want to exact their revenge.

Species: Humans, demons and elves.

Humans: The most common sentient species in the world.

Elves: Usually found in the southern portions of the Empire and eastern border of the Deubel kingdom. They are on average slightly taller than humans and have pointed ears.

Demons: Demons are resident in another realm. Occasionally, demons find their way to this realm via hidden gates or summoning. Demons have a hierarchy with usually a demon lord/devil at the top followed by demon nobles and then common folk. Demons are taller and more muscular than elves, have pointed ears and horns. Horns in many cases can be brown, black or white. Usually higher ranking demons have larger horns.

Deubel kingdom: A once flourishing kingdom that tempted the empire too many times. The arrogance of both sides led to it's demise. The Empire ultimately annihilated the Deubel kingdom with a world-ender. The kingdom is now a smouldering wasteland with only a few pockets of life left. Usually isolated valleys and villages built in caverns were spared by the world-ender. The former capital is called Deubelheim and is relatively in the center of the kingdom.

Evaronian empire: A huge land that subdued it's neighbors over the past hundred years or so. It is ruled by an emperor and his family in the main province of Evaron. Due to a long lasting feud, they declared war on the Deubel kingdom and ultimately destroyed it as they weren't willing to agree to a stalemate or come to a compromise. Now after reducing the Deubel kingdom to fire and ash, the Empire inofficially annexed the kingdom but its soldiers haven't set foot in it, since now it is only a wasteland.
 
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Princess Cyrillia Vertassa of Deubel

Prologue

The royal family was being brought to safety by their guard. There were reports that something really bad is going to happen soon. There was already a bright light in the distance quickly coming closer. They ran down the stairs past the underground dungeon into an ancient cavern below the royal palace. They barely made it to the cavern and a massive earthquake shook the place. By the time it had stopped, there was a deadly silence. The guard had been mostly killed by falling debris, but the royal family remained uninjured. All that remained were Princess Cyrillia, the king and queen, a royal court mage and Cyrillia's younger brother.

They decided to head back up and often had to climb over debris. The stairs had remained mostly intact. The dungeon had caved in. Finally at the top, they saw the degree of devastation in the capital. Nothing was left standing. Even the palace had been reduced to its foundation. The landscape outside the capital was a smouldering wasteland as if a volcano had erupted and covered vast areas of the land with lava. The air smelled of burnt flesh and smoke and it was significantly warmer than it was just half an hour ago.

The king clenched his teeth and said angrily: "Those bastards will pay for this. All of them." The king took his family and the mage back down into the cavern. Once back down in the cavern, he briefly discussed something behind the backs of his family with the mage. When he returned, he said: "We have no other choice. We must retaliate. Our only option is to summon a greater demon or even an archdemon to destroy the Empire. For this we need a sacrifice, a beautiful virgin to please a demon lord. I'm sorry Cyrillia, but you need to sacrifice yourself to avenge our kingdom."

Cyrillia was taken aback. Her own father considered killing her to summon a demon. He didn't even take his time to reconsider, but came to a quick decision. "Father, why? Please reconsider your decision." Cyrillia said. Then Cyrillia's brother turned to her and said: "Please, we must do it for all the people who were just killed. They should have died in vain. Please voluntarily be the sacrifice." Cyrillia couldn't believe what she was hearing. She looked to her mother, who looked away in shame. It only took a disaster for her family to turn against her. "No, I can't. There must be another way!" Cyrillia said.

"You have no choice." The king said. "We shall begin the ceremony immediately." Cyrillia's brother took a hold of her and said: "I'm sorry. This must be done."

The mage drew a summoning circle on the ground near an ancient altar. When he was done, he cleaned off the altar and said: "Bring her over and restrain her if she resists." Cyrillia was then forcefully taken over to the altar and placed on it. She tried to resist but her brother easily overpowered her. They then tied her hands together and her feet together. Cyrillia was visibly crying. She didn't believe this was happening, that they had turned on her. The mage then began chanting and the circle lit up. "Draw the blood." The mage said. Cyrillia's brother then grabbed a dagger. Then he showed a different personality, like his inner sadist had been drawn out. "I am going to enjoy this. No more being second in line for me." Cyrillia's brother said with a sadistic smile on his face.

As he swung to stab her in the chest, Cyrillia closed her eyes. There was a piercing pain in her chest and it became really warm. Her vision and hearing blurred and she could barely make out what was being said: "...not enough." Suddenly, she couldn't breathe and her body went numb. She seemed to roll off the altar. After she hit the ground, she still saw her body on it, but she wasn't on it. Had they beheaded her? Everything went cold and she lost consciousness. Before she lost consciousness though, she thought: "I don't want to die."

In the next moment, she found herself floating through a void. She looked around and said: "Am I dead? Is this the path to the afterlife?" Then a voice, a deep male voice that didn't seem quite human said: "Yes. But you didn't want to, did you? I can help you. I can bring you back. But you will have to make a personal sacrifice and follow a new code." Cyrillia's interest was piqued. A second chance at life? A rebirth? What was the condition going to be?

"What personal sacrifice do I need to make? And what new code?" Cyrillia said. "I thought my life had been forsaken already and I have been betrayed by my own family."

"The betrayal of your family and their acts are rather why I want to help you. If you want to live, all I ask of you is to sacrifice your humanity and become a demon. In fact, you shall become a new demon lord, the ninth. You just need to follow the code. Fulfill a demon lords duties." The voice said.

"I have a family who betrayed me and my home has been destroyed. If becoming a demon lord gives me life and makes me free, I will agree. But first, what are the duties of a demon lord?" Cyrillia asked.

"Simple. Build a following and build your realm. All other duties are yet that of a ruler. You create the laws of your domain and maintain its order. For human realms, you will always be a threat and an enemy. You can only subjugate them to stop their opposition." The voice said. Cyrillia then replied: "I have seen the worst of humans. They oppress each other, they murder each other and they betray each other. I could care less what happens to them now."

In that moment, it felt as if the voice would smile: "Now you are thinking like a demon. Say "I accept the deal of becoming the ninth demon lord and will do my best in maintaining the duties of a demon lord." and you will be reborn immediately. See your family and that mage as your first sacrifices. You may eat them." "Eat?" Cyrillia said. She felt conflicted, but eventually she convinced herself that it was justified as punishment for their betrayal. She then said: "I accept the deal of becoming the ninth demon lord and will do my best in maintaining the duties of a demon lord."

"I hereby make you Demon Lord Cyrillia or Demon Queen if you'd rather prefer that title, ninth lord of the demon realm, Demon Lord of the Earthly Realm. I wish you best of luck. When the sacrifices are made, you will be granted permission to the demon realm to learn your new skills." The voice said.

Everything went white.

Meanwhile in the cavern, the mage and the rest of the royal family felt that something had gone wrong. It was as if their feet had become stuck to the ground and Cyrillia's corpse became enveloped in a blue flame. The ropes had burned and the corpse stood up. It picked up the head and reattached it. Suddenly the flame grew tall and soon after it dissipated. Cyrillia had been reborn as a demon lord. Her hair was almost pink, her eyes were red, she had long black curled horns and stood at possibly twice the height of a normal human or at least twice her original height.

She smiled at the people in the room and said: "Hello family. I have been reborn as a demon lord. Due to your maliciousness and betrayal, you will all be sacrifices to me. Or in common speak, my meal." At that moment, Cyrillia could feel their fear. It was unlike any sense she had experienced. It made her grin more. "I shall bring order to this chaos. I choose my dear brother as my appetizer. You were jealous of my position in the line of succession, but now you wont be successor to anything." Cyrillia said. He screamed just before Cyrillia silenced him and ate him. Second was her father: "You didn't care about my choices or rights. Well I am free now." She then ate him. Third was her mother: "I loved you. Yet you stood there and did nothing. You didn't even stand up for me. That doesn't go unpunished." Finally, Cyrillia turned to the mage: "You may have just followed orders but even you should know when orders are the wrong thing to do."

After she finished eating the mage, a red portal opened before Cyrillia. She stepped through and found herself in the demon realm. The sky in this part of the realm was purple and it seemed to be night time. Before her was an ancient demon temple within a lush green forest. Suddenly the voice from before was heard: "Welcome Lord Cyrillia. I am Maa'ur, the chief god of the demon realm. I shall guide you in learning the powers a demon lord needs to know and those special to you. First you need to summon your weapon and gear. Hold your hand out and imagine a portal to pull your weapon out of."

Cyrilla did what the voice said and held out her hand. She thought of a portal to pull her weapon out of. Suddenly a small red portal appeared and she reached into it. She pulled out a massive black sword with a sharp edge on one side and a jagged saw like edge on the other. "Wow. It feels so light. It looks so heavy." Cyrillia said. The voice then said: "It is very heavy. You just have discovered one of your most important traits: your strength. You have the strength to unroot trees and throw large boulders far distances like a catapult. Now ram your sword into the group and think of armor."

Cyrilla rammed the sword into the ground causing it to rupture. She thought of armor and armor materialized on her body. Bikini armor in black, plated black shorts, thigh high black plated boots and long black metal gloves with almost claw like fingers. A black babydoll dress materialized over her body armor and a simple black wide choker appeared on her neck. "Interesting and... comfortable." Cyrillia said. "I think I have a nice addition for it." She then braided her long hair into a long wide braid. "There. Possibly better for battle too."

"Now that that's settled. I will create some easy targets and you need to practice striking them." Maa'ur said and lesser demon targets appeared. Cyrillia did the best she could but she was clumsy and sloppy. Maa'ur let her practice until her striking was decent and her fighting wasn't sloppy. It felt like forever to Cyrillia but in the end she was able to hit all the targets and correct herself quickly if she missed. She was almost out of breath. "Now what?" She asked.

"Now you need to know how to grant powers. Let's take this mannequin." A mannequin appeared before Cyrillia. "Now touch it's forehead and concentrate. Say that you grant it the power of a demon under your wing and of your domain. Make sure to know which powers you are granting." Maa'ur said.

Cyrillia touched the forehead of the mannequin and said: "I, Demon Lord Cyrillia, make you a demon in allegiance to my domain and grant you the powers of such." The mannequin suddenly grew horns. "That seemed easy." "For a demon lord, their duties feel almost natural. It is no surprise that it felt easy. You can also revoke powers in the same way, but for the person affected, it can have major drawbacks and make them feel sick or weak for a couple weeks, sometime might even kill them in rare cases." Maa'ur said.

"Now enhance the mannequins skills. Concentrate your power on it to give it a boost." Maa'ur said. Cyrillia did so without problems. Suddenly the mannequin had a would with lots of blood coming out. "Heal it. Same way you enhanced it's skills, you can also heal it if you concentrate your thoughts on healing it." Cyrillia then held her hand over the wound and it quickly healed up. "It is important for demon lords to keep underlings strong and healthy. That is why they have those powers." Maa'ur said.

"Finally, just for you to learn basic fire magic and how to make portals between the worlds. Hold your hand out and concentrate heat in it. Then throw it." Cyrillia formed a ball of fire in her hand and then threw it on the ground, setting a large area of the plaza before the temple on fire. Cyrillia said: "Now tell me, how do I make the portal?" "Draw it with your finger. Once the form is closed, a portal will form." Maa'ur said. Cyrillia drew a doorway with her finger with fire and a portal formed. "If you need guidance, come to the temple. If you need gear, there is a settlement near the temple. Demon lords can exchange bounties of war such as bones, human meat and other things of value to demons for coin so they can buy things in the demon realm. Good luck." Maa'ur said. Cyrillia then said: "Thanks for the guidance." and stepped through the portal.

End of prologue: Cyrillia

Cyrillia
Setting: Crossroads near ruined capital

Cyrillia had to somehow gain a following. Searching the wastelands for survivor may be too time consuming and inefficient. She had to think of a way to lure them to the crossroads. Then it came to her. How about a flare signal? Shoot a fireball into the sky, hoping someone will notice and come to the crossroads. She would have to do it every so often so that whoever came would find their way. She gave it a go and shot a fireball far into the air, high enough that even those far away could still see it. Cyrillia did some every ten minutes or so. Inbetween, she sat on a rock and hummed, sang or tried to somehow practice her new powers.

She figured out how to make a light with her finger that could eventually help if it was very dark out. Then she considered how strong she was and punched through a rock wall. It still hurt a little, but considerably less than expected. She then too a fist sized rock and threw it towards the mountains. Cyrillia didn't see how far it went or where it came down, but when she threw it, the force of the throw picked up a little dust from the ground.

Cyrillia guessed that she may have to wait a couple days before someone came but she was patient. And if she needed food, she could maybe make a brief trip to the demon realm and get food somehow, because she was definitely not going to find anything edible in this wasteland.
 
Prologue: Enzo Vistoria

It felt like any normal day for Enzo. He walked through the barracks that housed one of the many brigades of the Deubel Kingdom, greeting the fellow knights he knew by name as he left his sleeping quarters, wanting to feel the fresh air upon his skin outside. The army itself had come off one of it's greatest victories ever, repelling and pushing the Evaronian Empire miles backward. Eventually the Evaronian armies had a overbearing amount of casualties, forcing their retreat. But, today was a new day, the army and his outpost being on high alert for retaliation.

As he emerged from the building, he stretched his arms behind his head, letting off a small groan before he cracked his neck. The day was calm, the air being filled with a small breeze that gave a pleasant atmosphere to the area. Enzo lifted an eyebrow as he saw a line of men standing side by side, all gazing out at the horizon, low murmurs of confusion being heard from the men. He briskly jogged over, standing beside a knight even younger than him who stared out into the distance. "What's going on here...?", Enzo spoke to the boy beside him, his voice being monotone with a hint of curiosity.

The young man almost jumped, as he was stuck in a trance staring forward. "I-I don't know sir. There's some giant light heading towards our position. Whatever it is, it's coming fast. According to some of the info guys over there, it's on trajectory to hit the capital. Based on the size and speed, it'll probably cause some damage."

Enzo began to think to himself. That mysterious force that approached looked like it would wipe out everything in it's path, the knights had nothing to counter that. Apparently, the captains had already sent word to the capital to brace for the worse, glad they forgot to tell their own men. Enzo sighed, folding his arms over his chest as he analyzed what lied ahead. All of a sudden, his train of thought was broken by another knight who yelled out from on top of a stack of boxes. "Eyes up everyone! Orders are to dig in! We don't know what's happening! So everyone is ordered to shelter in place! To your quarters now! Doesn't matter the rank! Move it!" That was reflected like an alarm, instantly all of the men ran to their barracks, pushing, shoving, all in an effort to get inside first. Enzo quickly glanced to the horizon, the giant light was closer than ever, sending a wave of shock down Enzo's spine. He didn't have time to push and shove into the building, he decided to head off to the underground tunnels that were rarely used to transport troops.

Enzo broke into a sprint, racing towards the small entrance that led to those tunnels. He could feel the heat from the unknown force grow stronger, only causing Enzo's desperate running to grow faster, bursting into the tunnels, running further down before diving around a corner. The knight placed his hands over his head, shutting his eyes as the whole Earth felt like it shook, the sounds of explosions, screams, and devastation filling the air. The sounds were gone as fast as they arose, leaving an eerie silence behind, the only sound being Enzo's breathing. Enzo turned and sat up, coughing from the ash that seeped into the tunnels, dusting dirt out of his snow white hair.

Enzo slowly slipped out of the tunnels, taking a few steps before he looked up, nothing but a gasp escaping his lips. Everything was.....gone. The buildings were crumbled, only laying in piles of rubble, charred bodies in between the debris. The bodies outside however were burnt down to the bone, skeletons covered in ash lining the edges of the outpost. In certain spots, lava had erupted from the ground, slowly spreading along certain areas of the camp. He quickly looked left and right, the destruction went on forever in each direction. The way it looked, even the capital appeared to be fried in the distance. There were no survivors here...just death. No one could have survived this...but miraculously, here Enzo stood, surrounded by the bodies of his comrades. Enzo froze, a quick realization slipping in. Mother...! Eliza! Eleena! , his mind screamed at him. His family lived in the capital! "No...no...no...NO!" Enzo yelled out, taking off in the direction of the capital, beads of sweat lining his brow as he rushed ahead.

After about two hours of traveling on foot, he arrived to what used to be the great walls of Deubel. Those walls were gone too...allowing for a molten landscape to be put on full display. Every house and building gone, the large palace in the center of Deubel being the only building remaining, even though parts of it crumbled to the ground. Enzo climbed over the piles of debris, sprinting into the city, heading off to the location of where his house would be. He approached his house, his feet crunching the scorched ground beneath him as he ran to the pile of debris that used to be his home. Tears already brimmed the knight's eyes, as with no hesitation he began to rip pieces of his home out of the pile, searching for his siblings and mother, praying that they were alive. "Come on! You have to be here! Where are you?!", Enzo exclaimed, sweat dripping from his face as he continued to haul small clumps of material out of the way. Until he spotted something that horrified Enzo to the core. A sight that filled him with agony. An arm, protruding from the rubble, its skin charred, the fingers crooked and mangled as if they were broken. He stumbled over to the arm, pulling pieces away from around the arm until there it was...a face...his mother's face.

He grabbed the arm carefully, dragging his mother's body from the site. The action of pulling his mother out shifted the rest of the scene, two more small faces coming into view. Eliza and Eleena....who both shared the same fate as their mother, engulfed in flame before being buried underneath their own home. Enzo gritted his teeth and looked away, the sight of their bodies shattering the soul of the knight. Enzo dropped to his knees, sitting back on his heels as he buried his face in his palms, attempting to restrict the tears that he believed showed weakness. Enzo was all alone now...his father died years ago...now before him laid his sisters and his mother, gone in the blink of an eye. His body quivered as he finally sobbed, letting it all go. There was no one left to see him cry anyway. Enzo slowly lost track of time, he didn't know how long he was crying for, but eventually the tears dried. Enzo couldn't produce any more tears, just silent sounds of despair as he punched the ground in anger.

After taking a few more minutes to recompose himself, controlling his ragged breathing and wiping at his eyes, he stood up. Enzo looked down at his family, letting himself smile out of pain. "I-I love you guys...I'm sorry I wasn't here. I'm s-sorry I couldn't be here to help....I failed you." His heart ached, his sorrow filling him more than ever before. Enzo shook his head, whoever did this was going to burn in hell. "Mother. Eleena. Eliza. I promise....whoever was responsible for this. I'm going to make sure they suffer. Farewell....I hope you all are with Father now." Enzo sniffled, not knowing what else to say. He was reluctant to leave their side, he wanted to sit down and just die with them at this point, but something drove him forward, leaving the formerly grand capital. Enzo was going to survive, he was going to fight. For whoever caused this, he was going to make them all pay, no matter the cost.

End of Prologue

Setting: The Wasteland

No matter how far Enzo traveled, he was seeing the same scenery again and again. Lava, flames, destruction, bodies. The same process again and again, rinse and repeat. His green eyes scanned for any sign of life, but like usual, nothing. He was growing extremely hungry, his stomach growling as he walked. Enzo followed the main road that led out of the capital, hoping to eventually run into someone who survived. Enzo brushed his sweat drenched hair from his eyes, letting out a small cough from the ash that was scattered in the air.

Out of nowhere, something caught the eye of Enzo. It was a large light that flew straight upwards, before dispersing into the sky. Enzo had to be hallucinating, the heat was just playing tricks on him. But, after a few minutes, it happened again. Then once more. Over and over. Right in the direction Enzo was walking. This couldn't be fake...was someone trying to get his attention? He stopped and watched as another light went up, resembling a ball of fire. Somebody had to be shooting those! Even with a heavy heart and disturbed mind at the moment, Enzo managed to keep plowing forward. Whoever was firing those, he had to find. After every few minutes he could see another fireball get launched, each one seemingly closer than the last. He was close. Enzo suddenly picked up his pace, walking faster and eventually breaking into a light jog, knowing that soon enough, he'll find the source of these signals.
 
SETTING: WASTELAND

The Mad Clown had been Traveling the blasted wasteland for Days. He hadn't eaten or drank in for a day or two,he had consumed the last of the remaining food and water that could be found in the ruins of the city. His colorful jester attire was filled with holes and tears,dirt and ash had damped the once colorful costume. He continued to wander the damned land, he saw nothing but lava,corpses,and ruins. Dispite the devastating scene before him, he skipped and hummed joyfully as though if none of it had happened.

However,he saw something.....he witnessed a ball of fire shooting to the sky. His broken mind was fascinated by it,"oh? Who could that be? Well! Might as well check it out!" He cried out. His voice still filled with grief,even when he attempted to say it in a playful way. He changed his directionless wander, to "happily" travel to the direction of the fire balls.
 
Eamon

There had been no warning.

They were camped due west of the outpost they'd been sent to recapture. Their allies were to attack first, drawing out the enemy, and then his unit would sweep down from the hills and destroy their flank. Three blasts of the horn would be their signal. But when the enemy abandoned the outpost of their own accord and withdrew across the border, they knew something was wrong. Suspecting a trap, Eamon dispatched a runner to the other half of his force, asking to reconvene. And then they waited.

First came the light, then the sound, then chaos as the earth shook from its foundations and the hillside surged into the valley like a wave. The trees atop the ridge crumbled into ash, borne away on the searing wind. They called out for each other, stumbling blindly through the choking haze. When the dust cleared they accounted for the living and searched for the dead. Only then, at the mouth of the valley, did they see what had become of Deubel.

When the initial shock was over- the screams, the curses, the weeping, they at last turned to Eamon. Silently, they waited, with hollow eyes and trembling limbs that betrayed their horror and despair. But nothing on earth could have prepared Eamon for this moment. He was not his father. He had no command to give, no rallying cry, no words of death and glory. So he dismissed them, quiety, telling them to go where they would, search for their families, bury their dead. The war was over. What more could be said?

He waited there in the ruined camp while they gathered what remained of their gear and and trudged away in every direction, some in pairs, some in groups, some alone. He waited as the sun sank into a pool of blood behind the mountains and the stars shone dimly through the smoke. He lit no fire, for the earth radiated heat like a desert at midday. He kept watch over the graves of his comrades, waiting for a dawn that might never come. Unlike his men, Eamon had already lost everyone he cared for most. Now, all he could think was that it was finally over. A strange sense of relief accompanied that notion, followed immediately by guilt. It wasn't right for him to feel nothing after witnessing his soldiers' grief. But perhaps there was a limit to the amount of sorrow a man could bear in one lifetime.

Once he had lived for his family, until they were taken from him. Then he lived for his nation, but that, too, was gone. What, then, was left? What was left? He was lost, adrift, without purpose. Dread rose from the pit of his stomach. Emptiness threatened to engulf him. He flailed in the darkness of his mind, grasping for any sense of direction. What would father say?

Avenge me, came the answer, his father's final command. Avenge me. A weight settled in his chest. Heavy, grim, but familiar. It steadied him.

But how, he wondered. Where to begin in this empty wasteland? He had no allies, no army, no intelligence. Just himself, his sword, and the memory of a raven on a red banner. What would father do?

Inhaling deeply, Eamon forced himself to clear his mind. When one was overwhelmed, his father always said, he should clear his mind of all but the simplest thoughts. Then he should determine the next right step, and follow it. Simple thoughts. What did he need? Water. Food. What wildlife remained had fled and the spring was choked with rubble. He couldn't stay here. If those in the valley had survived, there might be others in the mountains, or on the other side. He would search for survivors.

At first light he filled his water flask from the flasks of the dead men and took what provisions he could carry from their packs. Then he headed west, into the mountains. The days that followed were the hardest. When he looked out from the cliffs and saw nothing but blackened waste between him and the horizon, it was like he was the only man left alive. He had never felt so alone. To keep his mind off the hellscape around him, he relived memories of happier days, memories of his family. Clean drinking water was hard to come by. With few trees left to provide shade, the sun beat mercilessly on his shoulders. When dehydration set in, voices from the past carried on the wind, and strange figures beckoned amid the swirling ash, filling his mind with whispers, urging him to lie down and sleep and never wake. Still, he pressed on.

As he came down on the western side of the mountains, he discovered a fresh stream running beside a road. He turned southward once he had drunk his fill. A hint of salt was on the wind, almost drowned in the scent of smoke. A flash of light, like a signal flare, arced into the sky. At last, he'd found a survivor. And at last, Eamon began to hope.
 
Kurtis sat at the local tavern, nursing a mug of ale. It wasn't an uncommon sight. The large man was often seen, sulking in the dark corner after market hours. He had once been a rather well known farmer, liked too. But the war in the recent years had left him bitter. Just a year ago, soldiers had ravaged his home. Setting farms alight and looting homes. He'd been away, traveling to sell his produce to the larger towns. When he returned, the place had been burnt and half the people injured or dead, the other half missing.

The military had been swift in retaliation, rescuing the captured citizens in less than a month. But he had not been one of the lucky ones reunited with their loved ones. His wife and son remained missing. He presumed them dead, but the soldiers recovered no corpse he could recognize as them.

Some claimed he was just in denial, refusing to believe they were gone. But he knew. They were never coming back. He couldn't help but feel like he should have been there. At least then he would have been able to do something. He could have tried. At least then he would have known.

"Hey, Kurt. You should go home." The bartender said, coming around to him. "You've been here all day."

The man didn't say anything, staring into his drink.

"Kurt, I know it's been rough without-" the man stood abruptly, doing his best to tower over the bartender despite the drunken sway in his movements.

"That's not my name." He growled, dropping a coin on the table. He moved toward the door, not wanting to talk about his loss.

"We all need a friend, Kurtis. You need to move on. Katherine wouldn't want you to waste away like this." The bartender said, his voice low as though talking to a startled animal.

"Leave me be, Lumel." Kurtis growled, dark green eyes flicked over to glare at the shorter man. He pushed by, leaving before the barkeep could say another word.

He avoided acknowledging anyone he passed, else someone else think he might want to talk. He'd been a highly sought after vendor at the markets up until a year ago. But after losing his family, how world, the quality of his produce slipped with his motivation to keep the farm going. He did well enough to keep himself off the streets, barely.

The day was warm, and would have been pleasant if not for the fact he was drunk. The sun just felt hotter than it should, drenching his shirt in sweat. Parts of his farm were clearly overgrown, but the flower garden directly in front of the house was extremely well cared for, showing where the farmers priorities seemed to lay. Anyone who knew his wife would know that she loved her flowers. She knew her plants, and he had learned a lot from her in the beginning.

Rather than go into the house, he went to the root cellar. The heat was giving him a headache, and the the underground room was cooler than above, where he fianllay passed out. Effectively sleeping thru the entire thing.

When he woke, he was startled. He might be a drunk, but he sure as hell didn't want to die. Not yet, anyway. He quickly pushed himself away from the large, gaping hole he found himself perilously close to. It was lucky he wasn't one the moved in his sleep, because the slightest shift would have no doubt sent him plummeting into the dark chasm.

Taking a moment to calm his beating heart. Waking up to that had most definitely sobered him some. He looked around, he seemed to be locked in. The staricase had caved in, the only opening he could see was not big enough for him to fit thru. He didn't have much option, though. The many years of throwing bakes of hay and chopping wood made climbing the caved in ceiling easy, but some of the chuncks of stone were simply too big for a single person to move.

He changed his strategy, going lower to try and remove some of the smaller debris. It was a success, after giving himself a heart attack when the boulder dislodged itself and rolled down, shifting everything as he slid all the way back to the bottom.

He could only stare wide-eyed the the boulder raced toward him, his heart rate leaping. He watched it roll by harmlessly, but close. The rock going over the edge of the chasm. He could hear it bounce against the walls, but he never heard it hit the bottom.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, coughing as dirt settled from the disturbance. "That is too many close calls…" he muttered, once again climbing up the rubble. It took him a few tries, and earned him a few bruises and scrapes for his efforts.

When he finally made it out, the lack of the boulder made it easy for him to slip out this time. He blinked, almost falling back into the hole that was once his food storage in shock. Everything was dead. Bright orange and red rivers flowed, pine trees blackened- some still burned. There were many farms that lined the countryside, the flat land could be seen for miles without any greenry. He swallowed, looking to where his house had stood earlier. All that was left were splintered, smoldering wood and the base foundation.

Instantly, he could only think of one place that would cause such devastating results. The Empire had no boundaries they weren't willing to cross, it seemed. He growled, furious that the last thing he had of his former life was gone. "I'll rip their throats out… They will know what its like to lose everything." He vowed out loud, "even if it kills me."

END

Setting: Wasteland

Kurtis scowled as he walked down the cracked road. There was virtually nothing. He found his flask in the rubble, along with the locket he had gotten for his wife. He never got to give it to her, but it was surprisingly undamaged so he wore it. The flask, on the other hand, was just useable. It a partly crushed, and he'd been forced to wrap it up in a tattered fabric due to it being too hot to pick up. And now that that it had cooled so he could handle it, he found it impossible to open. But liquid still sloshed inside. It seemed to have been tightly sealed by the heat after whatever had passed thru.

And he was dying of thirst. At least, he felt like he was. His well had been filled with ash, and everything else was just unrecognizable. He hadn't been willing to back into the cellar, worried that a continued up and down would make himself stuck for good.

The empire was going to have to do a lot better than that to kill him. The only problem was, the empire seemed the closest place he could go to get anything. Thing was, he was so thirsty he wasn't sure if he could make it to the border.

That was when he saw the ball of fire soaring thru the air. At first, he thought perhaps it was just another affect of whatever happened. But after a while, he realized it was too well patterned for it to be uncontrolled. He changed direction to where it kept showing up.

He might not be the most educated, but he wasn't stupid. If he wanted to survive at all, he would need other people. If he was lucky, they would have some water. Or better yet, be able to help him open his damned flask
 
Cyrillia

After shooting up a fireball every ten or so minutes for the past few hours, Cyrillia was starting to get thirsty. She didn't have anything on her to drink. Looking along her wait if there was a coinpurse or so on her gear, she found one handing from her plated black shorts. It had a couple unusual coins in it. She guessed Maa'ur left her some coin to get something in the demon settlement if she needed anything. Cyrillia could get a container of water and maybe something to snack on in the time between flares. So right after making the most recent flare, Cyrillia made a portal to the demon world. She was back in the forest from before. Luckily, the settlement wasn't far away and she managed to get over to it before having to make another portal so she could shoot another firebolt into the air.

Back in the demon realm, she entered the settlement. The stares of the demons in the settlement made her uneasy. She was getting so much attention. Cyrillia was probably among the tallest on that street. But the stares. Was it her horns? All their horns were much shorter. Maybe horns were a symbol of status. She found a merchant selling beverages. Cyrillia went up to him and said: "If you have a barrel full of water, I'd like to buy it. Otherwise some other large container would do." It first took a little for the merchant to react. He first stared at her. Then he said: "It is extremely rare to find a greater demon or arch demon among us. Most of them seem to have forgotten about us lesser demons. I can offer you a container made from the stomach of a behemoth. It might be even more stable than a barrel."

"Archdemon? Is that another word for demon lord?" Cyrillia said. The merchant then said: "Well no. Archdemons are a rank under demon lords. There are only eight demon lords. Those next to them are archdemons. You aren't from around here are you?" "Well no, I am originally from the earthly realm. I am Lord Cyrillia, Demon Lord of the Earthly Realm or so I was told I was." Cyrillia said.

The merchant broke out in laughter. "You are a good jester. There are only eight demon lords and certainly no demon survives in the earthly realm without being attacked from all sides at all times." The merchant said. Cyrillia then said: "Well I need my water and some snacks. I don't have much time before I have to be back. Just give me the behemoth stomach full of water and some dried meat." The merchant then filled a giant watertight sack with water and filled a bunch of dried strips of meat in a little bag. Cyrillia then pulled out a blue coin from her coinpurse. "Will this do?" Cyrillia said. The merchant taken aback said: "That is far too much. Where did you find that? Mostly just nobles have that much. 50 silver coins would be enough." Cyrillia then took out a gold coin. "Can you give me change for this?" she said. The merchant gave her 50 small silver coins in exchange for the wares and the gold coin. "Are you planning a feast? Do you live around here? What is your name?" The merchant said. The entire experience was weird to him. Cyrillia sighed and said: "I already introduced myself. But you didn't take me serious. I am Cyrillia, Lord Cyrillia, new demon lord of the Earthly Realm." She then drew the portal and said: "Until next time." before stepping through. The merchant couple believe his eyes. She easily made a portal, something only demon lords and archdemons could but only demon lords could make them so easily.

Cyrillia came back to the crossroad with the sack of water and the food in tow. She took a couple sips for the water. The water was amazingly pure. She didn't expect the demon realm to have clean water. She climbed up onto a rock and looked in each direction. She saw a total of five people in the distance. Four relatively close, the fifth still far in the distance. As the drew closer, she grew more excited.

Once the four made it to the crossroads, she grinned and said: "I see you have followed the flares. You must be thirsty and hungry. I have prepared some water and meat for you to replenish your energy with. Don't be afraid. I am the demon lord of this realm. Demon Lord Cyrillia. You may also call me Demon Queen. Formerly, I have been known as Princess Cyrillia Vertassa of Deubel. But how I became a demon lord is rather a long story." Cyrillia was sure that some might not trust her or react towards her with hostility, but she had a plan and it could give those who came a purpose in a world where they have lost everything.
 
Kurtis Ahris

Kurtis plodded along at his own pace. He'd decided to cut thru the wilderness, since there was no longer anything obscuring his path. He walked between dead, charred trunks of what use to be tall pines.

His head pounded, a massive headache having started not long ago. The heat waves in the distance were dizzying, making him direct his gaze downward.

He licked his lips, not use to such heat. He was not much of a traveler, and even when he did it was usually by a horse drawn cart. He didn't have that luxury now.

It was still a shock that just earlier he'd been having the usual interaction with Lumel. "I never expected alcohol to be the thing that saved my life…" he muttered to himself, pausing to peer up into the sky. Only, when he looked into the horizon, he noticed he could see someone up ahead. Sure enough, he was able to watch the figure send a fire ball up into the air. He continued onward. Having come this far, it would have been pointless to do anything else. Though he slowed as he got closer and saw that the figure could not possibly be human. But the creature did seem to have some form of supplies, given the large sack she had with her. He wasn't the only one there, either.

She introduced herself, and he eyed her dubiously. He didn't know much about the royal family, he had no mind for politics. He'd never seen them, to be able to compare the princess to this creature.

He couldn't help but frown, though. Why would a demon want a group of ragged mortals? "How would we know your not summoned by the Empire to rid of any survivors?" He asked. His voice was quiet, but mainly because between his migrane and dry throat it was painful to talk at a normal vollume. He wasn't afraid, by any means. Even if she decided to kill them, it would be more of a mercy. Trying to get to the border in these conditions would be grueling.

He watched the others, too. He had no idea why she had spent so much time waiting for people to show up, but they were all in desperate need of the water especially. If it had been a human standing before him, he might have bolted to claim some as fast as his worn limbs would let him.
 
The broken fool hiked through the wasteland with false glee and insanity. He hummed and danced through the whole trip,but once he reached the origin of the balls of fires. He was surprised to find a 9 foot tall lady-creature just sitting there with what appeared to be fresh WATER. he wasn't sure if she was a figment of his broken mind, or was she really real. But in all honesty he didn't care,"oh? A Demon Lord? Why would someone of your status want anything to do with a fool like myself?" He gives a mocking bow,he then slightly lifts his head. "Or are you perhaps not real to begin with?".

He ignored the rest of the curious travelers that have come along,he slowly approachs Demon Lord Cyrillia. Even He was desperate for any sort liquid to quench his thrist, "But it doesn't matter to a fool like me if your real or not......could you perhaps spare a few drops?" He cupped his hands and presented it cyrillia,as a gesture to plead for water.
 
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Eamon

As another flare arced into the sky, Eamon shaded his eyes and traced its trajectory to a crossroads some distance ahead. A tall figure stood in the center, and three other persons approached the place on different paths, apparently drawn by the fireballs as he had been. His heart soared. Survivors! But did he dare hope just yet? The stream had refreshed him earlier in the day, but he was dazed from heat and sun, and hunger was setting in as his provisions ran low. Perhaps these people were only a mirage, or a fever dream, conjured by his desires. He blinked the sweat from his eyes and struggled to focus. The four vaguely human shapes danced in the heatwaves rising from the blasted earth but didn't fade. Well, even if his eyes were deceiving him, it wasn't as if he had anywhere else to go.

As he approached the crossroads, the tall figure resolved into that of a woman- no, this creature was taller than any woman (or man) Eamon had ever seen. Two curled black horns emerged from either side of her head, and what armor she wore was pitch black. This... this was a demon. And yet... there was something strangely familiar about her. It only unnerved him further. Eamon drew to a halt, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword. Had he been lured into a trap? The others had also reached the crossroads, and Eamon glanced at them briefly: a bedraggled commoner and a man in a jester's uniform.

Then the demon spoke, offering them food and water, and introduced herself as a Lord of this realm, formerly Princess Cyrillia Vertassa. Aha... Eamon had met the crown princess once before, briefly, when they were both adolescents. The resemblance was striking. But he had never heard of a mortal being transformed into a demon. If she was telling the truth, that would be a long tale, indeed. He thought it far more likely she was an imposter, lulling them into a false sense of security.

"How would we know you're not summoned by the Empire to get rid of any survivors?" the commoner asked. A fair question, Eamon thought. The jester, after questioning what a Demon Lord would want with them and whether she was real to begin with, was more interested in her offer of water.

Eamon drew his sword and cautiously took a step forward. "If you truly are Princess Cyrillia, forgive me, but how do we know this isn't some demon's trick? What proof can you provide that you are who you claim to be, and that you don't intend to harm us?"
 
Enzo Vistoria

Finally! The silhouette of a figure in the center of the road up ahead! Enzo wanted to speed up, but he barely could, his legs felt like they were made of gelatin. He could see three others approaching this center figure as well, all coming from different directions. The closer he got, the easier it became to see, until he almost yelped, a strange creature stood in the middle of the crossroads. The sight was terrifying, sending chills even down the knight’s spine.

The creature was certainly otherworldly, having human remnants but, it looked bizarre. The human-like features included the long pink-blond hair and red eyes, but other than that, there was nothing human. The horns protruding from its head, paired with an insane height. No man could match that height at all. At first, this appearance made the young knight hesitant to approach.

Suddenly the creature spoke. The voice took Enzo off guard, his body tensing up as he went into a defensive state. His eyes stayed glued to the person who presented themselves as a “Demon Lord”. A demon lord already sounded crazy enough, unrealistic in fact, but how could one argue with that appearance? If anything screamed “demon”, that was it. Enzo gasped lightly though at the woman’s next words, as she claimed to Princess Cyrillia...impossible. She offered food and water to them, but Enzo remained frozen in place, his eyes darting between the three other men that had found their way to the crossroads.

The other men did seem as hesitant as he was, besides the jester...who freely came up to the Demon Queen with absolutely no worry. The commoner hurled a question at her that made absolute sense. Why would a random demon be so open and generous to four random survivors? It seemed more like a trap than an offering of peace. The man across from him who appeared to be a fellow knight drew his sword, taking a step forward at the Demon Lord. Another valuable question. How could this demon prove that it was Princess Cyrillia? As many questions as Enzo had, he continued to be silent, observing the situation itself. Enzo wouldn’t get any closer to the demon, it probably had powers unimaginable to men, so fighting it at the moment wouldn’t be the best idea. He let his eyes dart back and forth between everyone, simply trying to get a grasp of what was happening. Even while he attempted to analyze the situation, his internal hunger and thirst continued to gnaw at him. With an internal leap of faith, Enzo stepped forward, approaching the Demon Lord, he truly had nothing to lose.
 
Cyrillia

Cyrillia should have expected them to react towards her with suspicion. It is said among humans that demons are deceivers or wont do anything if they dont get something out of it. Additionally, her appearance didn't make it better. Her height seemed to be offputting at the very least and her horns would make any human wary of her.

The first who approached her, a tall man by human standards with black hair and some visible scars, questioned her reasons for being there. "How would we know you're not summoned by the Empire to rid of any survivors?" He asked. Cyrillia immediately responded: "Because you cannot control a demon lord. Only subservient demons follow orders of those who summoned them. Additionally, I wouldn't ever cooperate with the empire after what they did here? Millions of my fellow compatriots dead and my own family turned on me, sacrificing me to summon an archdemon. And my own brother showing his true sadistic self and jealousy because he wasn't first in line for the throne. Didn't work out too well for my family though. So, if you want to know my relation with the empire, I want to conquer it and get revenge for all the death they caused Deubel. Retaliation is my personal goal, however conquest is my duty as a demon lord."

Then Cyrillia noticed that she should maybe have kept it short. "I hope that didn't feel like a lengthy monologue." She said. "Anyways what would the point be to kill survivors in this inhospitable wasteland when the environmental circumstances would have killed you in a couple days anyways?"

The second survivor approached her. He was a Jester or an entertainer of some kind. Or that is what Cyrillia guessed by his looks. "Oh? A Demon Lord? Why would someone of your status want anything to do with a fool like myself? Or are you perhaps not real to begin with?" The man asked. Cyrillia chuckled and said: "I am very well real. I guess though that the heat and dehydration may cause mirages or hallucinations though. And my purpose is to find followers. I cannot take on the empire alone you know. Plus who have ever heard of a demon lord without a following or a domain?"

"But it doesn't matter to a fool like me if your real or not......could you perhaps spare a few drops?" The jester requested. Cyrillia smiled and said: "Of course. That is why I have this water here with me. And if you want some dried meat, I can offer you some too." She then poured some water for him to drink. "It should be pretty clean. I had some myself after I got it."

As the third survivor drew close, Cyrillia felt that he looked oddly familiar. The third survivor was about as skeptical as the first, maybe even more hostile as he drew his sword. "If you truly are Princess Cyrillia, forgive me, but how do we know this isn't some demon's trick? What proof can you provide that you are who you claim to be, and that you don't intend to harm us?" He said.

Cyrillia then gave it thought. Where has she seen him before? Could it be that he was one of the sons of the Earl of Dunhaven? He had an odd similarity with one of them. "I swear on my honor that I am Cyrillia. But I have the feeling we have met before. Is it possible you are one of the sons of the Earl of Dunhaven or a knight in his service? Or maybe I have met you in another province? If you know me, I am sure you have met me before. I know that it sounds unbelievable that someone who was human is now a demon, but the circumstances were more than unfortunate. My father and brother unilaterally decided to sacrifice me to summon a demon and my mother did nothing about it. My brother then decapitated me, but I didn't want to die. A voice then asked me if I was willing to make a sacrifice for a rebirth. I agreed and ended up sacrificing my humanity and the very family that betrayed me. I wish the circumstances would have been different. I guess Maa'ur wanted another demon lord." She frowned. The past two days had been troubling. But she had to move on. There were more important things than dwelling on the past.

The fourth survivor to come was another male. He however didn't seem to say anything and just watched from a distance. But as the situation unfolded, the made decided to approach her. "Who might you be? Do you have questions too? If not, I offer clean water and food. The water and food are free. I don't ask for anything in return. I only have an offer that you all are free to accept or refuse." Cyrillia said.

She turned to all of them. "I offer you power. The power to exact revenge on the empire. I can turn you into demons. You will mentally remain yourselves and will still have free will. The only difference is that you will be demons with special abilities to aid you in combat. Additionally, by contract, you'd agree to never raise your hand against your lord. I can give powers but I can take them away. But don't worry, I want to be a benevolent demon lord, all I ask for you is to keep order and don't turn on your own kin in my domain. If you refuse the offer, I am fine with it. You can still come along until you find somewhere safe to settle. If you have any questions, I will gladly answer them."
 
Eamon:

Eamon listened intently as the demon answered the commoner's question, still frozen in a fighting stance, sword at the ready. Not that it fazed her one bit. He didn't know why he kept pointing it at her. Perhaps he felt obligated to make a show of strength, useless as it was. Perhaps he did not wish to appear too conciliatory. Or perhaps he simply felt more secure with the familiar grip in his hands, though that safety was an illusion. He didn't know, and he didn't bother to ask.

"Because you cannot control a demon lord," the demon was saying. "Only subservient demons follow the orders of those who summon them." She questioned why she would help the Evaronians after what they had done to her kingdom, which was a fair point, but Eamon refused to let go of his suspicions so easily. Then she claimed that the royal family had sacrificed her in the aftermath of the destruction of Deubel in order to summon an archdemon, and that the prince had revealed his hidden jealousy and ambition in the end. Needless to say, this hadn't gone according to plan.

Most of Eamon's knowledge of the King and Queen came from his father and from overhearing various conversations, though he had also met them on a few occasions. They had always seemed cordial, regal and poised; exactly how he expected them to be. Their reputation spoke of them as staunch traditionalists, wise and economical in their dealings, and stern in their judgements, but fair. The well-being of Deubel was their highest priority, or so he'd been told. Most of all, he had been taught that his purpose was to protect and serve them, with his life if necessary, for the good of the kingdom. He struggled to put this information together with what he was hearing now. Meddling in dark powers and allying oneself with demons was against all law and tradition. Nor could they have been so wise as he'd believed, given the outcome. And sacrificing an innocent young woman against her will... That was not remotely the act of a benevolent ruler. That was cruel... cruel, and wrong.

Under orders, would he have gone along with this plot? He feared to know the answer.

The Demon Lord then revealed that she wished to conquer the empire as revenge for what they'd done to this land. Retaliation was her personal goal, she said, but conquest was her duty. Eamon mulled this over as she spoke to the jester and poured him some water. Demon Lord or no, it seemed incredible that she would attempt this goal alone. In turn, she considered his question for a moment before responding.

"I swear on my honor that I am Cyrillia. But I have the feeling we have met before. Is it possible you are one of the sons of the Earl of Dunhaven or a knight in his service?" His eyes widened at these words. She... recognized him? He had no idea how or why a Demon Lord of the other realm would know of his existence, or that of his family. This lended a significant amount of credibility to her story. She then went on to elaborate on the tale of her transformation. The thought of her family turning on her all at once sent a cold chill up his spine, and he shuddered as she described her brother striking the final blow. He couldn't imagine that any of his siblings could bear to do such a thing under any circumstances, and he himself would rather have died. Then a demon named Maa'ur had offered her another chance at life in exchange for her humanity, which she accepted.

Though her demeanor remained collected, stoic, and courteous, he detected a furrow in her brow and- he thought- a deep sadness in her ruby colored eyes that betrayed her inner pain. Her expression seemed quite human. In that moment sympathy and what was almost kinship began to seep into his thoughts before he realized it, and he relaxed his shoulders, lowering his sword just an inch. She, too, was alone in the world, the last of her family, thrust suddenly into a strange new role and forced to come to grips with a new reality. She, like him, like all of them, carried a great burden within...

A fourth stranger arrived, and Cyrillia- yes, he was almost sure of that now- repeated her offer of food and water. "I don't ask for anything in return. I only have an offer that you are free to accept or refuse," she said. "I can turn you into demons." Eamon tensed up again. So, that was her plan. His instincts told him to bolt immediately, but he forced himself to remain calm and hear her out. According to the terms of this deal they would gain special abilities and in return would help her keep order, avoid turning on each other in her domain, and never strike against their Lord. They would retain their identity and free will, and even if they refused the offer, they were free to travel with her until they found a place to live. Well... that didn't sound bad at all. If she held to these terms she would indeed be a benevolent demon lord, almost outrageously so.

Eamon lowered his sword and began to weigh his options. For once he was at a loss as to what his father, ever decisive, would have him do. All he had to fall back on were his parting words. "My son... you must... avenge me... avenge... us. Swear it, on the sword of your forebears..." But that was an answer in itself, wasn't it? He needed power and allies to fulfill his promise, and both had just been freely offered him. Besides that, he was sworn to the service of the Vertassa family, and one of their line still lived. By law, she was now his queen. And she seemed far kinder and nobler than her parents had been. He had no interest in revenge and conquest for its own sake, and his heart grew heavy at the thought of more fighting and bloodshed to come. But Evaronia's hunger for new lands and peoples to subjugate was boundless. Perhaps this was the only way to bring peace. And then, perhaps, when that was achieved, Deubel could be rebuilt under the rule of Queen Cyrillia, and there could be a future for them all beyond this endless war...

Was it worth the price of such an alliance? Was it worth his humanity? For a moment, he wavered. But he was honor bound. There was only one true choice. He stepped forward. "You are correct, your Majesty. I am the son of Eldred, Earl of Dunhaven, though I bear that title now. I'm afraid I am all that is left of my house." He knelt on one knee, holding out his sword on the palms of his hands. "I pledge myself to your service, my Queen. The sword of Elwynn is yours to command. I only ask that you answer one thing... If we accept your offer, and become demons, and supposing we defeat our enemies, will we ever be able to return to an ordinary human life?"
 
BISMARCK

He drunk the water in mere seconds,his thrist cured by the pure and precious water. It was honestly the best thing to happen to him in the wasteland so far. Afterwards,he wiped his mouth and once more gave out a bow to the demoness. He was certain by now,that she really was real. "Thank you Queen cyrillia,for this precious gift!" He truly was grateful for the water given to him.

After that minor display of gratitude, Bismarck would listen as the Demoness would explain her plans to enact revenge against the empire that had caused this ruin....this wasteland.....This Destruction of His Life. The mere thought of that blasted empire forced something he never truly felt before, HATRED.

He was all for revenge against the cursed empire, but he chose to stay quiet as he listened the exchange of words between the demoness cyrillia and that earl called Eldar or something. He witnessed as the earl knelt and accepted the offer to remove his humanity in exchange for demon hood and Vengeance against the empire that had wronged them.

Bismarck stared at the demoness,his mind pondering on the offer of demon hood and vengeance. But his thrist for revenge was stronger than whatever string of sanity he had left! And without missing a beat, Bismarck The Clown knelt before Cyrillia the Demon Lord. "Now Now demoness,surely you wouldn't mind if i joined that little following of yours?"
 
Cyrillia

Cyrillia watched as the successing Earl of Dunhaven, Eamon lower his sword. Meanwhile the jester quickly drank up the water given to him.

Eamon asked whether it was possible for them to live an ordinary human life after fulfilling their mission and exacting their revenge. As Cyrillia intended to be benevolent, however didn't know whether she could turn demons back to humans, she said: "While I am uncertain whether I can revert you back into human form after you have fulfilled your duties, I will try my best to accomodate your desire to live an ordinary life afterwards. I am sure I can hide your horns, maybe even hide mine. But if you wish to become human again, I may need to consult with the demon god Maa'ur. The best I can currently do is probably give you a human disguise, so that you can walk among humans as a demon without being recognized as one."

She then gave something thought and said: "If you were to become a demon in my service, do you have any specific wishes such as what kind of powers you could expect? I could just make you a demon with superhuman strength and agility or I can make you a master of an element such as water or fire. Or you could control objects or beings like plants or animals. Let tell me and I will do my best to cater to your wishes."

After drinking the water, the jester, who yet had to introduce himself, bowed to Cyrillia and said: "Thank you Queen Cyrillia for this precious gift!" Cyrillia then smiled and said: "It is my pleasure. I can't just stand idly by and watch you suffer."

After listening to her offer, the jester knelt before Cyrillia and said: "Now now demoness. Surely you wouldn't mind if I joined that little following of yours?" Cyrillia then replied: "You are welcome to join. I just ponder whether you want to join as a demon or as a human. If you wish to become a demon, tell me which powers you seek and confirm by saying I wish to serve as a demon and swear allegiance to my master until my duties are fulfilled. And if you wish to stay human, you can still tag along until you find it necessary to split from the group."
 
Eamon

Eamon listened thoughtfully as Cyrilla confessed she did not know if she could return him to human form after his service was complete, but promised to be accomodating of his desire, and offered a disguise that would hide his nature from humans in the meantime. While she was speaking he stood and rested on his sword. Despite her demonic appearance, Eamon found himself warming up to her by the minute. Her generous terms prompted a generous reply.

"A disguise will not be necessary until we reach settled lands, Majesty, I but I thank you kindly for your consideration."

Cyrilla paused for a moment, thinking, then asked him if he had any wishes regarding the powers he would possess as a demon, listing such things as elemental manipulation and increased physical abilities. Eamon had not thought that far at all. It was just... so surreal. Him? Wielding supernatural powers? Surely, this was just a fever dream. If anyone had related the events of this day to him a few days prior, he would have called them a lunatic, and rightly so. Still... still... perhaps this wasn't the strangest thing he'd encountered in the past few days. The depths of human arrogance and cruelty were far more appalling. So much so that he would abandon his humanity to see justice done.

At any rate, the Queen was waiting on his answer. He licked his dry lips and spoke. "Powers, Majesty? I... ask only what is needed to serve my country and protect my Queen. But I am an ordinary soldier, and I must confess I have no idea what I would do with mastery over the elements, or anything like that. I have always been a swordsman..." An idea struck him. He rested the flat of his blade on his palm and examined it. The polished steel shone blindingly in the sun, and the jeweled pommel glittered, casting flecks of brilliant red light like droplets of blood on the ground below. The sword of Elwynn, last relic of a slaughtered house, could now become a demonic tool of revenge in the next chapter of its history without losing its original purpose. It would serve its Queen while avenging its former Master. Yes... it did seem fitting.

He looked up at Cyrillia. "...Perhaps... you could do something with my sword?" He hoped his request wasn't too vague, or too mundane. Already he was feeling a bit sheepish.

Eamon watched as the Jester thanked Cyrillia for the water, and allowed himself a small smile at her reply. Her care and concern for her subjects was evident, as was her unwillingness to force her agenda on them. She valued them not because of what they could do for her, but simply because they were her responsibility. The difference between commanders who valued their men and those who saw them as mere tools was something Eamon could understand from his days serving in the army. What a strange world this was, where a Demon Lord could show more kindness than an entire empire of men. But regardless, here was a ruler he felt proud to serve. Despite everything, perhaps fortune had deigned to smile on him again.

The Jester expressed a desire to join the group, and she asked whether he wished to join as a demon or a human, repeating her offer of powers of his choice. For his part, Eamon was curious what the... rather odd fellow would decide. He seemed entirely too blithe about their situation, but then, appearances could be deceiving.
 
BISMARCK

The Jester was relieved that the door of opportunity had not closed on him,and it would lead him another forward to his New goal....Vengeance. Once the jester listened to the now queen cyrillia explain some details of joining her following,such as whether they would stay human or become a demon. If Bismarck was being honest to himself,he really didn't care much for his humanity. Everything he loved was....Gone,there was nothing but to laugh along the way as he would gain justice for his friends and for the people he had once entertained

So he began to ponder on the specifics of power could gain,he began to recall some of the tricks he would once pull off. Such as making the illusion he disappeared from a spot,when in reality there was a trap door or something of the sorts. Another little tricky he used to do was giving the illusion of breathing hot flames from his very mouth like a dragon.

Suddenly, it clicked. The Jester slowly rose from his kneeling,he had made his decision. "Demoness cyrillia! I have made my choice,I once made many illusion in my.....former life work as a jester...I what to make illusions such as breathing fire or disappearing from one spot,and only to appear in another. A reality!"

By now,the masked jester was staring at the now demon queen. Directly in the eye," I wish to serve as a demon and swear allegiance to my master until my duties are fulfilled"

after those words left his lips,he stood there for a few moments. Completely slient....until,"As for my name Queen Cyrillia......Bismarck, Bismarck the Mad Jester."
 
Cyrillia

When Eamon said that a disguise wouldn't be a necessity until they reached settled lands and thanked her for her consideration, Cyrillia gave him a smile and said: "It is in my best interest to have make sure subjects or rather friends are happy, if you'd be find with considering me as a friend."

Eamon seemed to not necessarily want specific powers, but rather asked for Cyrillia to do something to his sword. Cyrillia looked at his sword and said: "It is a beautiful sword. It seems almost like a work of art. I must ask though, do you prefer me to just enchant the sword with my power to give your attacks more strength or shall I make your sword maybe shift to your current needs like turning into a shield to ward off powerful blows and turn into a bow so that you don't need to carry an extra bow? Please do tell. And if you acknowledge my offer and have ultimately decided to join my ranks as a demon, then just utter the phrase I wish to serve as a demon and swear allegiance to my master until my duties are fulfilled. Then I will proceed to make you a greater demon under my banner."

Meanwhile the Jester uttered his wish to be able to teleport and breathe fire, something he made the illusion of as a jester. He then uttered the oath and introduced himself as Bismarck the Mad Jester. Cyrillia then put her finger on Bismarck's forehead. "Bismarck." She smiled. "I acknowledge your wishes and your swear of allegiance. You shall shed your humanity and fulfill our common goal. This might sting a little, but the pain wont last long." Her power began to flow into Bismarck, turning him into a demon and granting him his desired powers. She watched as he also grew a little.
 
Eamon

Queen Cyrillia wished to consider her subjects as friends? That seemed strange to Eamon- shouldn't royalty be aloof and set apart from everyone else, the better to command awe and respect? Though in Cyrillia's case her appearance alone was enough to inspire awe. And Eamon didn't dislike the idea. Far from it... it reminded him of the camaraderie he'd known on the battlefield, the kind that transcended social barriers. Their little band would need friendship and unity of purpose for the times ahead. Still... what would friendship with a monarch look like?

She smiled at him in a way that was both regal and winsome.

"I... I would be honored to consider you a friend, Majesty," he stammered, a little disconcerted, and not knowing exactly what this would change, but willing nonetheless.

Cyrillia expressed admiration for the craftsmanship of his sword. "Indeed," he replied, "It has been in the family for centuries. According to legend the stone was a gift from your ancestor to mine." She then asked if he would prefer that his sword be enchanted to deliver more powerful attacks, or that it shift into something new such as a shield or a bow to fit his current needs, and reminded him of the words of the oath. Both enchantments seemed quite useful, but he didn't want to appear greedy, so after a long moment he said, "I would be quite happy with a weapon that would adapt to the situation. I can think of many times I would have made good use of such a thing."

Meanwhile, the Jester considered her offer. Eamon found him difficult to read, but after a moment he seemed resolved and rose, requesting that the feats he had once performed through stage magic be made real. He stared at Cyrillia rather boldly, his eyes alight with determination and, perhaps, something darker. He pronounced the oath immediately and firmly. Silence hung heavily in the in the air for a few seconds. Then he declared that his name would be Bismarck, the Mad Jester. Bombastic, but fitting, Eamon thought.

He watched closely as the Demon Queen accepted his pledge with a smile, placing her finger on his forehead to transfer her power. He found it interesting that both of them had chosen to carry their old lives with them in the form of their new abilities. It was a practical choice, yes, but they also would not be making this choice in the first place if not for their past, such as it was. Perhaps their abilities reflected a longing for times that could never be again, and served as a reminder of what was driving them forward.

His heartbeat quickened in spite of himself. This would be him in a few moments. She'd said it wouldn't hurt much, but that wasn't what bothered him. He was standing on the precipice of an irrevocable, most likely permanent choice that would carry him indefinitely down the currents of war and bloodshed he'd always longed to escape. Was this really the right thing to do? No, no. He'd been through this already. He couldn't back out now. There was no choice. Before, he'd thought Bismarck a little too eager to part with his humanity, but now he understood. There was nothing for it but to take the plunge.

Eamon inhaled and exhaled deeply to steady himself, then stepped forward and bowed slightly, placing his fist over his heart. "I wish to serve as a demon and swear allegiance to my master until my duties are fulfilled."

It was done. There would be no turning back.
 
BISMARCK


The Jester recoiled back at this sudden transformation, He could Feel himself grow and change. He gritted his teeth,slowly picking himself up from the ground. He felt a bit dazed from the whole ordeal,but he shook it off and was ready to get into action. Albeit with a few... "upgrades".

"So demoness queen cyrillia....and Mr eamon,why do you say we do next? Perhaps search for a patrol? I'd assume we weren't the Only ones to notice the....rather enormous fireball shot to the sky."

He was Really eager to test out his newly granted "gifts", onto the blasted vermin the took Everything. Bismarck then breathed in and out,small specs of fire were released from his newly transformed body. For the first time in DAYS...he smiled not in a false sense of happiness. But instead in a rather,shall we say unhinged way.

He truly was happy in a twisted way ,he had taken the next step for a.....bit of payback.
 
Cyrillia

While Eamon gave it some thought whether to become a demon or not, Bismarck pulled through the transformation well. He had been the first person Cyrillia managed to transform into a demon. All of her practice had only been on dummies in the demon world while Maa'ur trained her.

Eamon expressed his honor to be able to call Cyrillia a friend. Cyrillia replied: "If you are fine with it, you may just call me Cyrillia when speaking about personal matters. For the sake for professionality however it might be appropriate to use honorifics. Currently, majesty may be inappropriate because I don't really have a nation to rule over and my old line had been extinguished. Soon however a new dynasty will emerge. Call me lord, for now." She gave him her usual smile. In all honesty, being too formal had always been annoying to Cyrillia. Even people who called themselves at the end of the day still addressed her as "Princess" or "your majesty". Cyrillia gave people the impression that there wasn't anything that bothered her else than the poverty in the nation. But it may be that life as a royal was infuriating much of the time.

After giving her offer thought and really seeming torn in the decision making, Eamon bowed and said the oath. Cyrillia smiled, satisfied. Finally her first two followers. The beginning of changing the world and being a demon lord. Honestly, Cyrillia wondered what put weight on his decision to become a demon: Eamon's conviction to his queen and country or the fact that he may not have anything else to turn to and making it a new conviction and purpose to be a demon with a goal.

" I acknowledge your wishes and your swear of allegiance. You shall shed your humanity and fulfill our common goal." Cyrillia said to Eamon, but then briefly gave the phrase some thought. "Maybe I should individualize the phrasing of that in the future. It might become a bit repetitive. Anyways, I shall make you a greater demon under my banner." Cyrillia then touched Eamon's forehead and her other hand touched the hilt of Eamon's sword. She then transferred her power to him, turning him into a demon. Simultaneously, Cyrillia turned his sword into what he wished: A transformable weapon.

Once done, Cyrillia then said: "Eamon, Earl of Dunhaven, Greater Demon of the Earthly Realm and Bismarck the Mad Jester, Greater Demon of the Earthly Realm, carry your new titles with honor and don't let standing corrupt you." She then put her hands on their shoulders and smiled. "Friends, we are going to have one hell of a time." She said suddenly breaking character from being so formal, to seemingly being more cordial and down to earth. "We shall bring law and order back into this rotten world and cut down everyone who wants to stop us."

Bismarck then asked what to do next and remarked that they were probably not the only ones to see the fireballs in the sky. Cyrillia took notice that Bismarck was eager to try out his new powers on enemies. "I was going to suggest getting supplies in the demon world so that we wont be sleeping on rocks during dust storms while resting." Cyrillia said. "But your worry about possible enemies following the fireballs too makes se..."

Barely getting to finishing her sentence, Cyrillia noticed an imperial expeditionary force in the distance. The force was approaching quickly, seemingly not having yet noticed their horns or correctly estimating their sizes from the distance. "Looks like it is your lucky day and you will be able to put your abilities to the test." Cyrillia said to Eamon and Bismarck.

Once within earshot of Cyrillia, the expeditionary force stopped and someone, likely the commander exclaimed: "Demons? In these wastes? I haven't seen any portals since we have entered the wastes. State your purposes demons. Out here to pick the cooked flesh of the fallen clean off the bone?"

Cyrillia then grinned at the speaker of the expeditionary force. It wasn't her usual smile, but actually a full teeth grin. Someone who knew her would know that she was up to something and that that grin signalled malicious intent. "Just a demon lord with her new subordinates. But I will let you in on a little secret. I am the last of Deubelian royalty and seek to destroy those who did this to our beloved home. My friends here are eager to dish out some punishment on you and test their new abilities." Cyrillia said with a tone in her voice that seemed to be mocking the enemy soldiers. She peered at the commanders face and said: "Those are nice eyes, they might bring in a good amount of coin."
 
Eamon

The instant Cyrillia touched his forehead and the hilt of his sword, a surge of energy flowed through him, and Eamon felt his body change in response. The sensation was jarring, and stung more than a little. His sword felt both cold and hot to the touch. He hunched over, palm pressed to his temple, and gritted his teeth, determined to bear it well. When the shock subsided, he straightened, his hunger and weariness drained away to be replaced by a hardened strength. Now he felt that he could run for miles without tiring and crush mountains with his bare hands. I might be able to get used to this, he thought, actually eager to test the extent of his abilities. Tentatively, he reached up and touched his horns.

This is real. I'm a demon.

Well, there would be time enough for brooding later.

"Eamon, Earl of Dunhaven, Greater Demon of the Earthly Realm and Bismarck the Mad Jester, Greater Demon of the Earthly Realm," Cyrillia was saying. As he looked up at her he found he had to crane his neck less to see her face than a moment ago, so he guessed he'd grown taller. Beside him, the Jester seemed to match his height. "Carry your new titles with honor and don't let standing corrupt you." As a son of Eldred, and after all his Lord had promised him, how could he do less? He was just opening his mouth for an eloquent reply when Cyrillia broke in with "Friends, we are going to have one hell of a time," placing a friendly hand on his shoulder. He blinked, startled by her change in demeanor, but soon realized that she now seemed more relaxed and genuine, in line with her request that he call her by her first name.

"We shall bring law and order back into this rotten world and cut down everyone who wants to stop us." Eamon nodded, the words law and order bringing a kind of comfort. Law and order would bring justice and peace. Or so he hoped.

Bismark then asked Cyrillia what they should do next, suggesting an enemy patrol might have seen her signal. He exhaled, his breath dotted with small tongues of flame. Then, thinking whatever strange thoughts behind that unreadable mask of his, he grinned in a way that rather unnerved Eamon. Eamon turned his attention back to Cyrillia, who spoke of getting supplies in the demon world and also considered the Jester's idea before trailing off, her eyes fixing on something in the distance. Eamon turned, following her gaze. As if on cue, a cloud of dust had appeared in the distance, stirred up by horses' hooves, in which he could just make out a standard and the glint of armor.

As the expeditionary force approached, Cyrillia told them they would soon be able to put their abilities to the test. Eamon grasped his sword with both hands, just now noticing that the red gem had turned a deep maroon color and that the blade had darkened as though covered in shadows that slowly shifted and changed as he watched.

Meanwhile, the patrol had drawn to a halt and the commander challenged them to state their purposes. Eamon took offense to his accusation of carrion-feeding, more on Cyrillia's behalf than his own. Cyrillia grinned a wide, audacious grin she hadn't shown before and mockingly answered his challenge, revealing herself as a Demon Lord and the last of the royal family. "My friends here are eager to dish out some punishment on you and test their new abilities." Eamon felt slightly uneasy. Not only had they not practiced their abilities at all, her malicious tone inspired some discomfort. Remember why you follow her, he scolded himself. This was no time for squeamishness.

He almost changed his mind when he heard something about "eyes" and "bringing in coin". He looked at Cyrillia incredulously, wondering if he'd been mistaken. It was probably some demon custom he hadn't heard of. Nothing to worry about. They were about to kill these men anyway. What did he care what Cyrillia did with the man's eyes? He tried to shrug off the comment and prepared his mind for battle.
 
BISMARCK

He was really trying to resist the urge to simply go and lunge at them like an utter madman, but of course he would have to restraint himself until.....well until the queen deemed so. He didn't want disobey the queen,at least not yet.

All would be in place eventually,as is the nature of life. Although he didn't actually have the specifics Of a plan,he did know he was going to have a plan....eventually. Bismarck the Mad Clown,didn't really bother to listen what the patrol had to say. As it would be pointless to listen to a soon-to-be corpses.

As he stood there with only an inch of restraint holding him back,he only glared at the patrol with a hateful gaze that could kill with just a peek.
 
Cyrillia

When Cyrillia got that stare of disbelief from Eamon when she mentioned the eyes, she cared to elaborate: "If you know anything about demons, demons like meat, however human meat is especially valuable to demons in the demon world. The most valuable part are eyes though. Eyes bring in a fair amount of money in the demon world. I am not asking you to go out of your way to gather eyes or meat, however when people are dead, they don't need their eyes anymore in the first place and we cannot bury every enemy we kill. Best harvest any organs of value before vultures, if there are any eat the carcasses. It is up to you if you want to gather the parts though."

The commander looked in disgust when he heard about "eating humans". "Soldiers don't wait and dispose of these demon filth." The cavalry leader said. Cyrillia then said: "I guess this is your cue to attack. I will have your back, but you two should manage to prove your abilities and deal with these soldiers." Cyrillia then opened a small portal and pulled out a massive black greatsword from it. She then rested the sword on her shoulder waiting for Bismarck and Eamon to take action. "If you take hits, I can heal you too. Just concentrate on fighting." Cyrillia said in a cheery tone and a smile on her face.

Meanwhile, the soldiers had begun their attack on the demons.
 
BISMARCK

when those words left the mouth of the queen,he charged forward with great haste. his hands transforming into daemonic claws,skin becoming a shade of blue up to his wrist. he of course didn't use his unholy breath of fire on the bastards just yet. For he needed to make sure the bodies wouldn't be burnt, so it wouldn't go to waste. After all,one cannot go with funds. He jumped onto one of the cavalrymen and began to tear the patrolman to shreds. However,another patrolman managed to give bismarck a good ol stab in the back with his sword. Bismarck gritted his teeth from the sudden stab,and returned the favor by turning around and torching the poor patrolman with his unholy fire. He frowned at this,he didn't want to use his flames just yet. But he couldn't be standing around and concerning himself with such things....so he continued his rapid assault with an unholy scream.
 
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