Amongst the Ashes of Hallowvale
Lord Valentus Crommyre strode without fear through the shattered gates of the once magnificent metropolis of Hallowvale. The twisted runite gates were still steaming in the cool evening air and ash danced upon the wind like snow. All throughout the burned out shell of what had been the world's most beautiful city, the ghostly cries of werewolves cried out joyously as they stalked the broken streets for any survivors to feast upon.
The Kinshra Lord's black fur-lined cloak flapped in the blood-tainted breeze as he removed his horned helmet to better take in the victorious scene that was spread out before him. The fallen forms of paladins, white knights, unicorns, and centaurs lay prone on the cracked pavement, their numbers far outweighing those of their Zamorakian counterparts. The streets and walls were awash in several coats of swiftly drying blood.
"Lord Crommyre," a dry, cracked voice rasped. Turning, the warlord watched as the commander of his gargoyle forces landed with a solid crunch. "I come with news from the palace. Queen Efaritay and her consort have been captured. The entirety of their bodyguard has been cut down."
Crommyre gave an indifferent grunt. He would have preferred to have had the icyene monarchs executed rather than captured, but he had his orders.
"Also, my lord," the stone demon continued, "I have just received word that Lord Draken is on his way now from Senntisten with his family. He would like to congratulate you on your success personally."
A pang of fear shot through Lord Crommyre at these words, but he did not let it show. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the gargoyle and returned to his inspection of the still-burning city.
'Let the vampyre scum give his false praise,' he thought with a tight lipped smile, 'Let him give glory to my skill and strength before casting my men and I aside, or worse yet, set his vile children upon us. I will not give him the satisfaction of my fear, nor the opportunity to give me a poisoned gift; not even a plea for my life should the time come. I have done my duty for Lord Zamorak, and that is all I have ever desired. Strength through chaos!'
And so, flanked by greater demon guards, he strode on into the still smoldering capital of the Hallowlands, his feet crunching through the fire-born snow.
Author's Note: This was my entry for the Armies of Gielinor Story Competition, with some very minor adjustments. Please let me know what you think. Thanks in advance.
