The Wounded Warsong

Chapter 13: I of the Demon

The pawn had only been awake a short moment before screaming and throwing punches at the others he immediately saw. "Looks like this one died fighting to his bitter end," someone laughed, "Time to show him some manners." He jumped in, grabbed him by the shoulders, shoved him into a wall, and forced him forward onto his face. "Welcome back to the living pawn." He growled on the floor, trying to pick himself back up but finally noticing that he no longer was wearing armors or had a sword: he was covered in a thick black skin and had claws on his fingers. "Just now figured it out? Damn, you're so slow."

"W-w-what-" He covered his mouth, not believing the sound it made.

"Yeah, you look just like me now get up you worthless pile of trash."

"M-m-my... n-n-name... I-i-"

"You have no name; you are simply a pawn to be used by me. I will give you a name when I see fit, trash. NOW GET UP!" He scrambled on the floor, flailing his arms and legs around trying to figure out how to stand.

"Oh lord, why do I always get the slow ones... ON YOUR FEET TRASH! YOUR FEET! THOSE THINGS!" He took a spiked club and hit him across the head with it. "IS IT COMING BACK NOW!" He hit him repeatedly, chunks of the thick skin flaking off until the club began to have a reddish tint and was dripping.

"Viscount Morax! You'll kill him, stop!"

"Fine fine, he's worthless to me though, take him to Baroness Romwa. She always takes care of the weaklings. I have no time for his filth. Three more are still asleep and need to be woken. Just make sure he gets back here when she's through with him: he does not yet have a dark spirit within him. He could expire at any time."

"Yes sir." Two pawns picked him up and carried him out of the room. The walls and floor were like black granite stone but felt oddly warm.

"W-w-w-what-"

"The Viscount has rejected you. We are taking you to the Baroness." The hallways were busy with traffic. Orcs, Quadav, Yagudo, and Goblins were milling about moving supplies and weapons with Demons carrying oddly shaped boxes and large crystals. Large Ahriman flew above them keeping watch and schedule. He tried to look around but the pain in his head was too much. "He hit you pretty hard there Pawn, hope the Baroness doesn't have too much trouble with you."

"I... I..." he blacked out.

-----

"Ray! Stay back, I'll kill them all, EVERY SINGLE ONE! YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED!" Where did this come from, he thought, watching the event take place like a spectator watching a play on a stage. He saw a shining Elvaan knight with a ceremonial sword in his hands.

"Please Isaak, be careful!" Who is that? He looked toward the voice and saw a Mithra in a wedding dress, horrified, frightened. They were getting married?

"Isaak! Ray! We will not let you die here!" Who are they? About a dozen people were with them, having drawn their ceremonial swords and curled their hands into fists.

"Davoi is ours! Destroy everything! Kill all of them! TAKE NO PRISONERS!" What? About three dozen Orcs began their raid on the church. They smashed through the doors and windows and overwhelmed them. One by one the people died fighting, defending Isaak and Ray. Isaak had killed about a dozen Orcs before his strength began to fade.

"Ray..." An Orc finally sliced through his sword and cut off his arm. He fell and watched, reaching with his other arm toward Ray. The Orcs surrounded her as his vision, and the scene, faded to nothing.

What is this trying to tell me? Who are those people? What am I? Who am I?

-----

He opened his eyes to see a familiar black granite-like ceiling.

"Ah, you've finally awoken again. Welcome back to the living, dear Pawn. I'm Baroness Romwa, your new patron." Her voice was softer and pleasant to hear, yet deep and resonant. He sat up slowly and tried to feel the back of his head.

"Don't do that yet Deary, it's still healing." He stopped and looked around. The pain was very dull and didn't bother him. He was on a small table in a small room with only the Baroness sitting on a small stool. Her form was more slender and less unsightly, yet still had the same thick black skin, small bat-like wings, and claws on her fingers.

"I'm sure you're wondering how you came here or why. You are a brave soul, a soul who had the very passion to do something up to and beyond death. Souls like this... like us, are born again in this form, a Demon, here in this castle of dark cermet. This is Castle Zvahl, dear soul, and this is your new home under my protection as I and everyone else am under the protection of our Lord." She held out her hand to him and smiled.

"H-home..."