It Would be My Pleasure.
Her pulse quickened. His presence was intoxicating. He spread his massive wings and took flight. The mortals screamed like young children. His dark form swept over the enemy and she could feel their terror. Their frightened minds brought a smile to her lips.
Her thoughts drifted back to when she first saw the master. She too had been afraid. Shedding her corporeal form and giving into the embrace of the Lord of Pleasure, she no longer feared anything. She was His Herald and would carry his mark at the front of his army. Her teeth cut her lips as she bit down at the thought.
A chariot rushed past at lightening speed, slamming into the disorganized soldiers in front of her. More screams. This victory would be too easy. She didn't want it to be over so quickly.
To her right, the Master had landed. He cut a path through the Middenheim cavalry. None could stand before him. He walked forward, folding his beautiful wings in behind his back. Green ichor dripped from his terrible sword. The drops hissed as they hit the ground.
She moved swiftly to be near him. His head turned slowly toward her. He smiled. She was his favourite. She returned the smile and her tongue lashed out. She screamed with excitement.
Together they marched toward the castle gate. The gate door swung open slowly. A lone warrior exited. The gate closed behind him. His full plate shone even in the unnatural dark light. He drew his sword and it barely hummed in his hand.
The Master stopped. His army stopped behind him. The demonic steeds tongues licked at the air. Poison dripped to ground and formed small puddles of ooze.
The master roared a challenge. The warrior walked forward. She could see his face clearly. He was but an old man. The Master would consume him. She would add his head to the banner tonight.
The Master moved purposefully forward. Every step left a burn in the earth. The warrior broke into a run toward the master. The fool, she thought. The two clashed for an instant. A bright light appeared from the Masters back. A splatter of demonic blood flew forth. The Master's shoulders slouched. This could not be she thought ...Already the Master's form was wavering. His essence drifted back to the dark plane.
She saw the warrior turn toward her. Hatred filled her. She handed her banner to a twisted female form beside her, freeing her own clawed hands. A slight mist began to waft from her pores.
She circled the warrior. He breathed deeply. Her odour caressed his body. He slowed. He stood before her and followed her every move with his glassy eyes.
Arrows fell in vain about her. Shouts from his countrymen fell on deaf ears. She was so beautiful he thought.
She touched his neck. It was like ice, but warm at the same time. His sword hit the ground with a clang. He cared only for her. She smiled to herself. Stupid man she thought. She pushed the talon through his throat.
Those on the castle walls drew silent. He fell to the ground. She screamed and held his head aloft for all to see. Yes this would be over too soon …at least the Master would be pleased when he returned.