Angelblood - Retribution

Failure

He walked among their tattered remains, his eyes narrowing as he passed the broken and the dying; moans of pain and wails of suffering carried across a caustic air of soot and ash. The encampment was in complete disarray but then again was it ever in any sort of order? Those individual tents that were still standing had their flaps closed and warded. Those few remaining officers who could muster any dominion over another had a sprinkling of guards outside their partition in hopes to scare off the band of demonic looters that had formed after the battle had been lost.

That was the way of things with His kind. Those who fell on the battlefield would do so knowing that their possessions would not fall into the hands of the enemy but of their own brethren, whose nature and greed made respecting the fallen and vanquished impossible. Even if you had survived the conflict but was wounded or maimed and too weak to defend what was yours, then the roving bands descended upon you taking what they could and perhaps leaving you lifeless in your own pup, bleeding demonic ichor into the salted earth.

Demons knew not for caring for their wounded, there was no aid to those who might have been saved. You either survived because you overcame your condition or you succumb because you were not strong enough to prevail. It was truly the survival of the fittest among the legions of the damned, and fittest was not always translated into raw power and strength, but to the black heart and malice mind who knew how best to use both. This was not the case for the Commander of this Legion Horde, who pained curses rained down like sheets of ice, cutting to the bone any and all who wandered near. This demon had been proven not to be fit, in either combat or leadership as his charges were slowly dying around him or running off to the Devil knows where with as much stolen bounty as they could carry.

Malkart, a large and nasty looking Pit Fiend sat on a bloody litter of furs and hides, desperately trying to hold what was inside from pouring out. The wound was horrific, a gash that ran from side to side, deep and visceral. Such a wide and awesome gash was a life ender, the body was dead, the brain just didn't know it. Out of respect for the General's station, He stepped forward and kneeled. His action throwing the two wary guards off balance as they had expected conflict... not this. Still, their hands were on their weapons ready and eager for an attack but Malkart waved that notion off, despite his foul mood he was not willing to watch any more of his men die today.

"Sadow Ral. Have you come to finish me off?" The Dying Pit Fiend rumbled his voice a raspy, bloody thing. Bile spilling from his mouth with each word.

"Is that not the normal cost of failure?" The kneeling Demon responded. Head bowed and staring into the blasted earth, the large horns adorning his brow curving in on themselves before coming to wicked points. Sadow, large bat-like wings fled in their folded rest. The lower half of the Ral goatlike in appearing with knees that bend contrary to mortal men and legs that ended in thick black polished hooves. A tail, long and wicked, spaded at the end with barbs along its length swished back and forth like that of a feline before finally coming up and over to rest on leather padded shoulders.

Sadow Ral wore the black and red leather garb of Hell's most elite and dangerous order. Nondescript in their designation but infamous in their foretelling. For no other in the Abyss wore clothing such as HE, unless they had passed the trails and received the brand that labeled Sadow as a trusted Assassin, a hand of the Dark Prince.

"It is." Malkart admitted, "Come, be done with it then."

Ral lifted his head, the part of the Demon that betrayed his cambion origin. A face too lovely to be owned by a creature of the lower plane, skin tinted a deep red, hair as black sable pull back and tied into a long flowing ponytail. The smile was devilish as it was without any true warmth as Sadow regarded the Pit Fiend, before shaking his head slowly.

"No Great and Powerful Malkart, enjoy what few moments you have left. Time will do to you what my duties command of me and I find your suffering... appropriate for your crimes."

Malkart body shuddered, from the pain or a past memory one, could not tell. The Pit Fiend finally gave up the effort and let his hands slide away from his belly, the contents slowly bulging thru the slit made by the edge of a katana.

"My Crimes, you were not there. You didn't see the Celestial with midnight wings." The Pit Fiend said as his lifeforce began to wane. The Demon's entrails spilling forth.

"Ebony wings like those of a Raven. Hair, white as bleach bone. A blade as sharp as the voice of God; when he calls your soul... back, home." Sadow scoffed.

Malkart head lulled to one side, the eyes fading away. "I am proof that the dreaded Angel exists. See what Thy blade, made... of... me..."

"Malkart?" The Assassin called, rising to his full and impressive height. Sadow stepped forward and the guards bristled but a look from the Hand of Lucifer calmed them quickly as they made way for Ral to look upon the dead General. Reaching forward and taking the Pit Fiend's lifeless head in hand, Sadow Ral leaned in close looking thru the empty windows to a lost soul.

"Farewell General Malkart, your punishment has been served. Though I will admit, you could have lived a few more moments longer..."The Assassin released the skull and turned, finishing his statement as he walked away "...so that I could ask you where the body of my Sister might be resting."