Dumah

Beyond the initial glance he habitually gave to any new arrival he met to ensure they were not a threat, Dumah paid little attention to Rahab's family. He himself had no farewells to make- knowing this day lay in his future, he'd never married, although he'd been tempted more than once. Seeing the mingled happiness and dread with which his fellow generals were greeting their families, he didn't regret his decision. Like all the Sarafan Generals, the few blood relatives he hadn't lost to the vampires cared little for him-they'd never forgiven him for being exiled, so he stood alone.

It's often said that when one is near death, one's life flashes before one's eyes. Speaking as a person who had been close to death many times, Dumah could attest to that being false. But when given a chance, reflections did tend to arise. Looking down at his armour, and around at the huge fortress that was their home, he was once again cast back to their humble beginnings. He heard the screams that had caused the others such distress, but his dreamlike state barely registered them, lost in memories.

The 'old fool' they'd taken captive seemed remarkably calm at his impending demise, something which clearly enraged Turo. The vampire, it must be said, was not terribly intelligent –his leadership of his clan was based on age, power, and his absolute control of his fledglings. It was too absolute for adaptability-his fledglings could barely think without his direct order. That was obviously something that Moebius was able to exploit.

Turo held any public executions on a crag above a lake, to demonstrate that he did not need to fear water or something similar. He set his throne on the edge of a lake as Raziel, Turel, Dumah, Rahab, Zephon and Melchiah escorted their prisoner out, blades at his throat. Turo was taking no chances after the captive's earlier display. Unfortunately for him, that meant that Moebius had had ample opportunity to talk to his captors-and he was leaning on that curiously ornate staff.

From his place, Turo called for Dumah to chain Moebius to a large rock before pushing both into the lake-he was awake that humans could swim. Moebius placidly presented his leg. Dumah exchanged glances with the other guards. Something felt wrong here. Then a vampire fledgling came hurtling into view and screamed "We're being attacked!" Almost relieved, Dumah sprang up and drew weapons, distantly hearing Moebius mutter "Finally!" The orb on the staff suddenly flared bright, and all around him vampires suddenly began toppling forwards into the water. With a remarkable grasp of what was going on human exiles suddenly rose up and started killing every vampire around them.

Turo had flown up from his throne in shock at the fledgling's announcement, just clearing the staff's area of incapacitation in the movement. Glancing around wildly, he identified the glowing orb as the source of the chaos and his telekinetic bolt knocked it from Moebius' hand and into the water. The glow flickered and died, and vampires began fighting back. Turo flew like an arrow towards the execution crag and grabbed Moebius, claws at his throat. He got as far as "Stop or he-" before falling with six blades buried in his back and tumbling into the lake.

"Thank you" Moebius said, grinning and brushing down his robe before telekinetically summoning his staff to him. By this time, he had more blades at his throat.

"Who are you?" Raziel demanded.

"I am the head of a humble crusade called the Sarafan, dedicated to ridding the land of the vampiric pestilence. See for yourself."

By this stage Moebius' forces were entering sight. They were well armoured and equipped, but Dumah could see a young fledgling fighting three of Moebius' soldiers at once and matching them strike for strike. They were a mob, zealous, but in conflict, destined for slaughter, even with the miraculous staff. The Exiles, mostly fighting bare handed or with rocks or chains, were more successful.

"Your crusade leaves much to be desired."

"So it appears. Would you be willing to help me remedy that?"

Dumah looked around. They had suffered much at the hands of the vampires...

And so a fairly large band of bandits struggling to find enough to eat every day became one of the most powerful military orders in existence. And the rest was history.

And, soon, so would he.

By this time Rahab's wife had drawn away from him and had crossed to offer to squire Dumah. He accepted graciously, thanked her, and watched her leave, before turning, like Rahab, to the place where his death was to emerge. He had few regrets. Their band of ragged bandits was resilient, and even should the Sarafan be shattered by this catastrophe, its members would easily be able to enlist in any of the individual kingdom's armies.

I've achieved everything I needed to, demon. Come.