Dulse looked down to the streets he had lost. He had but a few men around him now -- perhaps a dozen. He had no knowledge of the others scattered through the surrounding blocks and houses, no idea whether some still lived or if all had died. One thing he did know, though, and that was that as long as he lived, he had a city to defend. All he needed to do was figure out how he might accomplish that.
Of the dozen men with him, five were archers or mages who had spent all their ammunition, whether runes or arrows. The remaining seven were swordsmen, but they were already weary from the night's work. Even if they passed back down through the house and into the streets, they would accomplish little before some demon swatted them aside. For the first time that night, hopelessness seized him and he began to doubt his city's ability to survive the night.
"We've lost," he muttered, and no one argued. Someone gasp ed, but Dulse ignored him and continued, "It's all in vain. All this blood and death, all to no purpose. We've lost."
Someone voiced their disagreement, almost too quiet to be heard. "No. Colonel, we haven't. Look!"
Dulse didn't acknowledge the speaker until someone shook his shoulder. "Colonel! Look quickly. Something's happened to the demons!"
Though he saw no purpose in it, Dulse lifted his head and looked down to the street, and hope unlooked for filled his heart. Below, demons fell upon one another, rabid and slavering, no longer descrying friend from foe. They fought and tore at the nearest thing alive, whether demon or human, Saradominist or Zamorakian. And when one or the other fell, the demon moved on, always killing. Within minutes, they perished; any that yet lived tore at their eyes in their madness, clawing out their minds.
11-Jul-2010 07:51:09
i've been waiting for a while lol, but now i'm cmpletely lost and forgotten most of the events, so i'll have to go back and reread