A/N: More! I know, the shortness...but yeah.

We smelled it coming over the hills, coming back to take on Yaga-Shura. His fortress in the Marching Mountains was filled with nothing corpses. We made sure there were no survivors of his army. Sure, they didn't give us much choice, but still. I'd like to try for a diplomatic solution.

In hindsight, Lathander forgive me, I think what we did was right.

We were walking through the forest, everyone spread out and ready. We were going to go in hard, challenge Yaga-Shura outright, try and get him in single combat. Really, it seemed like a good idea.

Shut up.

Then, it struck us like a punch to the gut. Burning flesh. Rotting. Everyone broke into a run. A stream of refugees dashed into the forest ahead of us, more than a few of them catching arrows and falling. I was running so hard I couldn't breathe. I gestured to the clerics behind me to do what they could. Slowly, a maddening rage and fear chipped at the edges of my mind. We charged onto the road, the warriors and I. Feathers sprouted from the chests of the soldiers taking potshots at the refugees. Better that way, we would have made it a great deal more painful.

We spread out, men and women with ranged weapons covering near the woodline. The rest of us pretty much poured across that bridge in a rage. The massive, armored types went first, then the midweights, and the lighter thieving variety. The mages and archers and whatnot stayed on the other side a little while before advancing behind us. People were yelling orders, I think I was one of them.

A few giants called an alarm, turned towards us. A number of arrows reached out for them, with the odd bolt of lightning. I was seeing red. I couldn't control myself, rushing at the head of the warriors and just about taking off the first giant's leg with one stroke of my flail. I leapt over the falling body, struck the next in the stomach armor. Shard of metal rained down on me as the blackened steel reacted like wood to the strength behind my blow. The distant pain only served to drive me hard, faster. The giant bent double, and another blow shattered his massive skull. The last one took off running. I stood atop the body, soaked head to toe in blood and gore, watched the look of horror on the faces of the approaching army. My friends just watched, I guess, because I all I remember is looking out over the faces of Yaga-Shura's men, watching the first wave of arrows come flying towards me. I swung my shield up, swept them from the sky. Knocked them ASIDE. Not stopped them with my shield, hit them in midair.

"Is that the best you can do?" I remember yelling.

"I am the RIGHTEOUS FIST OF JUSTICE, maggots! One I am done with my brother, you are next!"

After that, well, a lot of them took off in the opposite direction. That's about when things got blurry.

I'm told -told, mind you, since I largely have no clue what happened- that after that, I turned into the Slayer. I just let it go. The Slayer took over, and Yaga-Shura tried to take me on. He fell back with one arm severed from the elbow down, waved on his men. Most of them balked, and mine were a little busy trying to keep a distance from me. It wasn't much of a problem, really. I chased after my brother. A swipe here, a swipe there, and men died. My friends covered by back as best they could. Somewhere, deep inside the demon, I lay writhing in irony.

When I came to, I was on my back. Yaga-Shura was most definitely dead, and I was staring down my friends. My friends and their weapons. I groaned, looked around.

"I'm fine, really."

They believed me, reluctantly. Lowered weapons, asked if I was okay, but kept their distance. There was muttering. No one liked it when I was the Slayer. Sure, I had laid waste the the better part of the enemy army, but it was needlessly cruel. Some looked at me with questioning glances. Aerie looked out and out scared, while Jaheira looked more worried for my well being.

It was real awkward when I saw the Solar again.