Today's Demons are Tomorrow's Angels A Precursor, of sorts. > Damn its hot. That's just about all you can think right now, stuck standing on this hill, in the ass end of nowhere, wearing full combat armour, in the height of summer... > Your unit of around thirty men has been stationed at this vantage point for the best part of three days. Your orders? Stay put and await further instructions. > The enemy has split up into separate battle groups. Their heading in different directions and hitting different targets, seemingly at random. In a straight fight you know your side has the discipline and strategic advantage to win. While they charge in hordes, you've been trained to fight in formation. The only problem is that they're not fighting like a regular army... So command had placed back up units at various points across the land to better respond. > You are Anon. Son of Anon, who in turn was son of Anon and... well you get the picture. Your waiting with your unit for word of the enemies' movement. If they are spotted striking at the mines then you'll be deployed to reinforce the defenders. If they advance towards the plantations then you are to harry and engage if necessary until the eastern division can respond in force. > For now however your stuck cooking on this hill. You're actually second in command of this little outfit and only a couple of weeks away from the end of your term of service. You will soon have the choice of honourable discharge with part pension, or the option of renewed oath of service and the beginning of your advancement to full officer. > You could soon be the one back at camp giving the orders instead of out here carrying them out... For now though, its your turn on watch. > The landscape about you is breathtaking. Rolling green hills and fields stretch out before you, deep forests of fern cover the horizon to the west, great snow-capped mountains to the east and a small settlement sits off in the distance nestled in-between. > No matter how long you've already spent in this wild and somehow still not yet completely tamed place, the raw beauty of it never fails to suck you in. > Your a veteran of the pacification campaigns. Not by any means a long war, or even a proper one as such, but you did your part pacifying the locals here in the name of the Grand Republic. You had marched on to the battlefield a boy full of patriotic pride, confident in your ability and in your cause. The reality of conflict however had forged you into a man, one jaded by what he had seen, and done, for the 'cause'. > Your currently scanning the horizon with a small, leather-bound spyglass. Something you picked up from the locals. > Outside of the area's natural beauty, there's nothing much to see. Although if the enemy is using those deep forests for cover then... > A shout from behind signals the arrival of a runner, finally carrying word of where your needed. > Turns out there was a large force making directly for the mine. It was time to go. > Some movement in the distance caught your attention however, there was something coming out of the trees not far from the settlement... > A quick look through your spyglass reveals what looks like a small raiding party. Four... five... seven... nine? Yes, nine unless there's any more in the trees. It looks like a collection of six scrawny belts and three big boots... > They were going to hit the settlement. There was no doubt about it. You have already seen what these bastards do to those they catch unawares... > Slipping the spyglass back inside your pouch, you march over to the CO. Preparations were already underway to get moving to the mines but you had other plans... ----------------------------------------------- > The guy in charge of the unit was a hulking bear of a man, he dwarfed those under his command by a full head and shoulders. He too was a veteran of the last campaign to these lands, he sent both enemy and ally fleeing before his wrath on the battlefield, war hammer swinging in a mighty figure of eight movement that none survived. He was also your friend. > As you approach he is busy hurling abuse at the men under his command, shouting things that would make a convict blush in his efforts to get them organised and moving. It seemed to be working too. > "OY! Private Buttflap! Your not gettin paid to stand there imaginin how nice it would be to crawl back up your momma's shitter! Pull the lead out and go make sure the horses are saddled and ready! Well? Whatcha waitin for? A kiss goodbye? MOVE IT!!!" > The private in question was actually a young greenhorn named Button, he had made the mistake of stopping to try and rub a grass stain from his armour. He sped off towards the already saddled horses to try and desperately make himself useful. > Upon seeing you Gabriel's whole demeanor changes, the snarl leaves his rugged face and a smile even breaks through. > "Ah there you are Anon! Its time to get to it at last! No more waiting around! I think the rest of the boys here are a bit stiff from all this sitting about and we don't have time to baby them! The enemy is making a move on the silver mine, we've been ordered to help hold it. You go sort out the sorry lot lingering over there while I get us into formation!" > It took him a second to notice you hadn't moved. That you were stood still with a serious expression on your face. > "What? Something wrong?" he asked warily, expecting bad news. Turns out you had something even worse than that for him. > "Gabriel, I've sighted a small raiding party down the hill there approaching the settlement. Only nine but too much for the locals to handle. Let me take a small unit down to clear them and-" > The captain interrupted before you could finish, the look on his face making it obvious he was in no mood for your crap right now. > "Hold it right there Anon. We've got orders to head back south. The enemy is already on the move so we cant afford to be late. We certainly cant risk losing men in a pointless skirmish either." > His words were stern but his eyes betrayed concern. He knew what you were thinking and was hoping he was wrong. > You continue on regardless, your mind set. > "With all due respect sir, the settlement down there is populated by grazers, not fighters. Technically their a part of the Republic these days and we have a duty-" > He cut you short again, obviously running out of patience and not liking where this was going. > Leaning in closer, he dropped the level of his voice so the men couldn't overhear so easily. " What are you playing at Anon? We have our orders, they've been received and verified so there's no turning back now. You know this! Why would you want to bother with that little collection of mud huts and sticks anyway? There are more important things in these lands to protect than those beastmen!" > The soldier in you knew he had a point. You had been deployed out here to protect the Republics' interests in the area from the new invaders, not the local tribal population. > You could still remember though, from before, your promise and the faces that haunted you each and everyday since. Gabriel and you had cut down more than your fair share of these 'Beastmen' in the past so your sudden desire to protect some of them must be throwing him through a loop. > "I'm not asking you to delay heading south, just give me some men and some horses, we'll clear up the raiders and then catch up to you." > Gabriel still wasn't having any of it. > "Anon enough! I'm not risking men OR horses for a bunch of ungrateful savages! You have your orders! Move!" > Your mind was set too. If he wasn't going to help then... > "Fine. Then I'll go down there alone, then you don't have to worry about risking anything important." > You turn to leave, the look of shock on Gabriel's face matched only by that of the surrounding men who had noticed the argument. > "Anon!" he yelled after you. "This is insane! If you disregard orders now... You know what will happen! It'll be desertion! Your soul will belong to the Legion! Get back here!" > You didn't care. You had sworn an oath at the alter, just like everyone else, but whatever happened you owed these people. Your mind, and fate, were set in stone. ----------------------------------------------- > Taking your horse, you wasted no more time. It was a straight charge down to the collection of huts below, mounted, you would reach the wooden walls before the advancing raiders. > The captain had made no effort to stop you. Although you fully intended to return, your actions were tantamount to desertion of your post. The rules on the matter were clear, no deviation from orders without ranking authority. You had lost some of your faith in the preceding years so the threat of the Legion didn't bother you too much, but the search party they send out for you later on the other hand... > As you get closer to the walls of the settlement you can see that they have already noticed the approaching raiders. Just outside the gate is a stag, he's wearing little more than a loincloth and his large antlers are decorated with little trinkets and markings of his tribe. He's holding a wooden spear to his brown furred chest but from what you can see, he doesn't look all that brave... > There are a few more smaller deer standing with him, he must be the leader. None of them look like fighters. > There should be more here to defend a settlement of this size but you know why there's not. This land still hasn't recovered from what your people did here, what chance do they have now against these new invaders? > As you come to a halt before the assembled deer, the stag points his spear fearfully. He barks a few angry words in his strange little language in challenge. The sight of you on your horse all geared up for battle however obviously has him spooked. > You raise your empty hand in what you hope is a peaceful gesture and start to talk. > "Peace! I'm not here to fight you, I've come to help against them." > You point towards the advancing enemy. They have seen you now and had increased their pace. Either they were eager for battle or the prospect of fresh horseflesh on top of the other spoils of this place had gotten them excited. > The deer don't quite seem to understand, you don't blame them. It wasn't all that long ago that your people had been the ones charging their walls after all. > Deciding actions speak louder than words, you dismount and start walking towards the advancing raiders. When your between the enemy and the fearful defenders, you pull your shield from your back and unsheathe your blade. A one man cavalry charge against nine of these things wasn't going to end well, so you would make your stand here. ----------------------------------------------- > The creatures invading these lands hailed from the deserts to the far east, beyond the mountains. A race of scaled lizard men. They wore little in the way of armour and most didn't even carry weapons. It was their near primal ferocity though that made them so dangerous. They charged headlong into battle with talons that could rend steel and flesh alike, their powerful jaws had wrenched more than a few arms directly from their sockets. Their naturally thick hide turning away all but the most accurate blades. > You had noted that upon finding a village or settlement of locals usually ended in one way. Slaughter of the population, skinning of the bodies with the pelts sent back to who knows where, and finally the remains were either desecrated in some foul way or eaten. Or in one case that still refused to leave your memory, both. > The charging lizards slowed to a trot as they approached you. They outnumbered you nine to one (unless the fearful defenders behind you joined in), but they also knew to be wary of humans. > The three bigger brutes were the ones obviously in charge, you called them 'boots' because they were tough old bastards. They stood slightly taller than you, covered in a mix of dark green and onyx black scales. Two were sporting what looked like wooden clubs, while the middle one had what looked like a republican issue battleaxe. Although they as a rule fought unarmed, they seemed to carry weapons at times as status symbols, or trophies. > The other smaller lizards were essentially the grunts, their role in battle was essentially to charge in head first and start slashing. Expendable but deadly. You called them 'belts' as they were thin little creatures, shorter than the average human, and only really had one use. > With a thundering roar, the biggest boot holding the axe issued his challenge. In response you gave one of your own, smashing the pommel of your sword against your shield for added effect. > The stag and his handful of men remained by the gate of their home, apparently unwilling to come join you. > With a snap of the lead lizard's long tail, the belts came charging. Six on one then eh? Unluckily for them, this wasn't your first rodeo. > With your shield raised you step into the charge, catching one leaping lizard with a bash and knocking it into two of its friends. With your blade you swipe to the right, the arc cutting through the gaping maw of the one reaching for your arm and separating the top of its head from its body. It went down thrashing while the other two with it hopped back out of reach. > Not giving them a chance to regroup and charge again, you spin back towards the ones scrabbling over each other on the left, smashing across the face of the closest one with your shield and using the momentum of your spin to slash across its neck with your sword. > As the second falls dead at your feet the remaining four back away slightly, hissing and spitting at you. This was where it would get difficult, if they spread out and started circling you then you wouldn't be able to watch all of them at once. The boots had decided to watch from afar rather than join in yet, until now. > Your little display had made a difference however, seeing two cut down so easily had given the defenders a bit of confidence. They were starting to advance, clutching their spears tightly. > On the other hand the boots were starting to advance too... > As the belts charged forwards once more you move to meet them, a flying spear from behind catches one in the mouth, causing it to screech and fall back flailing, it was sticking out the back of its head... > The remaining three dodge past you and head for the deermen, leaving you with the boots. > You hoped they could handle the smaller ones as you officially had bigger problems. The boots were all focused on you, one had dropped his club but had his razor sharp talons raised menacingly. The second had kept his club and looked like he knew how to use it. The third and biggest one with the axe? He was slowly making his way to you, dragging the big battleaxe across the grass behind him. > In your battles against these things so far you had learnt two tricks. The first was that the scales around the point where the neck met the lower jaw, just above the throat, were thinner than elsewhere. The other trick was that despite their fearsome appearances, these lizards were just as susceptible to psychological warfare as any other enemy. > As the two closest boots charged, you focused on the unarmed one. If his claws got a hold of you then it would probably do more damage than the club, but he didn't have anything to block with either... > He was quicker than he looked. His first swipe actually connected with your shield, tearing across its reinforced surface and cutting three jagged furrows through the metal and into the wooden base beneath. You feint to the side, as if knocked off balance by his strike, and step back. This encourages him to take a step closer to have at you again. > Its his only, and last mistake. You thrust upwards with your sword and into the sweet spot on his throat. The result is twofold. > Your blade opens up a major arterial line in his throat, causing blood to rush down into his lungs and also shoot out into the air as he struggles to breathe. The other effect? Your blade severs his tongue at the base, causing it to come flopping out and onto the ground as he chokes. > The second boot stops his advance and gapes as his comrade clutched at his ruined throat, gurgling and choking on his own blood. This gave you your chance to finish the trick. > You stab down into the slimy appendage on the ground and flip it up at the shocked boot. It goes sailing directly into his open maw. > As a result he drops his club and starts coughing and choking, desperately trying to stop his dying friend from frenching him with his disembodied tongue. > Its all the opening you need to close the distance and thrust your sword once more, catching him in his panicked eye this time. He's dead before he hits the ground. > That only left the third boot who... > He wasn't where he had been standing a second ago... Where had he- > A slight whistling from behind is all the warning you got. You throw yourself forwards but not quite quick enough. The huge axe rips across your side, tearing through your armour like so much paper and pulling the shield from your arm. > The pain burns through you as you land. Your side and left arm a hot, ruined mess. If it wasn't for the adrenaline of battle flowing through your system the pain probably would have crippled you. > The last boot is standing there above you, his axe now covered in your blood. He has a wicked grin across his scaly face, showing you all of his razor teeth. > Seems he hadn't been phased by your little trick like the other, instead using the time it took you to dispatch his friend to flank you. > He raised the axe up again to end you, but you weren't done just yet. You manage to role to the side just as the axe comes crashing down, it buries itself into the ground instead of your skull. > You still have a hold of your sword, so you stab up at the brute as he retrieves his axe. > The blow hits home, but only into his thickly scaled side. He roars in pain and your rewarded with blood, but its a shallow wound. > In response he leaves his buried axe and grabs you instead. His razor talons dig deep into your shoulder as he lifts you effortlessly from the ground. Fresh pain floods your already wracked body as he throws you through the air. You land in a heap a few meters away. Your struggling to breathe now and it feels like some ribs are broken, there's a stabbing pain from within your chest as you try to draw breath. > The boot has his axe again now and is advancing towards you. Your vision blurs and swims as you try to focus on him. You try pulling yourself up but your legs refuse to listen. All you can do is lay there, clutching your sword still, and wait for him to come to you. > He stops just to your ruined side. His smile is back and he can see your done. > You spit blood at him and glare up into his blood red eyes. If this was going yo be it then you wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing you beg or cower. > He raised his axe and... roared in pain? A wooden spear had come flying through the back of his knee, sticking half way out and causing him to fall forwards towards you. > Not one to miss a chance, you raise your sword up to meet him. Using his own weight against him, you run him through. Whether luck or providence you don't know, but you pierce his scales and his heart. With a shudder and a moan, he dies atop you. ------------------------------------------- > The stag and his ragtag group of defenders had managed to take down the remaining belts as you took the full fury of the boots. They lost one man with another two seriously injured, but thanks to your intervention they had won the day. > They had finished just in time to see the last one preparing to end you, the stag himself throwing his spear into the brute's leg and bringing him down. They may not like humans, and with good reason, but you had helped save them, and they needed to know why. > After pulling the corpse from you, they carried you into their little settlement and placed you gently in one of the bigger huts. All manner of dried plants and herbs hung from the ceiling, a place of healing perhaps? > It didn't much matter to you at this point. The burning of your wounds had been replaced by a numbing cold. You could no longer feel your left arm at all and your chest felt full of broken glass, each breath failing to pull enough air in and hurting like hell. > The deermen parted to reveal an older figure, the fur on its body grey and speckled, the cloth covering its chest and the lack of horns suggested an elderly female of some kind. > She moved closer and began checking your wounds, pulling at your shattered armour to try and get a better look and clicking her throat all the while. > With a sadness you didn't expect to see from one of her kind directed to yours, she placed one of her wizened hands on your forehead head and said a few words in her language. You couldn't understand what she was saying, but you knew the gist of it. There was nothing they could do for you. > As your vision began to darken, the deer all bowed their heads in solemn silence around you. All except the elder one, who kept her hand on your head and chanted some sort of prayer. > As your breathing became more shallow and the pain began to fade away, you wondered if this small act of sacrifice would do anything to wipe away what you had done. If there was such a thing as redemption. Or if the priests back in the temples had been right, if there was a special place for deserters like you. If it was a bright light or the Legion waiting to take you on the other side. > As the last breath left your battered body, the elder deer stopped her chanting. The rest slowly filed from the room, she remained however. Her hand still in place, she bent down to your bloodied ear and whispered- > "We make our own way through life and death warrior, there will be no rest for you. Not until you've earned it..." > That night, they built a pyre outside their little settlement and set your body upon it. Your wounds dressed and your weapons placed upon your chest, they burnt your remains with honour, and offered your soul to whatever gods might have mercy enough to take it... ------------------------------------------- > The efforts to repel the scaled invaders did not go well. The lizards forced the Republic to spread their forces too thin, whereas they could match them in battle, the constant hit and run attacks and seemingly patternless plan of attack wearing them down. > Reinforcement came from an unexpected source however. The indigenous tribes of anthros scattered through the land began to rise up and actually help. They had run and hid at the advance of the enemy before but something had changed. > A story spread, of a lone human soldier fighting and dying to protect a village of deermen. It spread far and wide amongst the different tribes and seemingly inspired a reaction. > The tide soon turned and a new dawn began to rise on that troubled land. > The story of Anon didn't quite end there however. There was no peace to be had for his troubled soul here in this world, and there would be none for him in the next. > His soul belonged to the Legion of the Damned now. They were coming to claim it, no matter where it might hide...