Post by Seiryu on Apr 20, 2008 16:37:06 GMT -5
The village was far too small to stand against the army advancing so quickly toward them. Nothing had slowed the youkai army. Everything in their path had been destroyed, everyone murdered, cruelly murdered. Bodies were elevated on crude spears and left for the scavengers to finish off. Blood ran in rivers. No one was spared, not even the youngest child or the oldest elder. The youkai burned and tortured and mutilated, leaving behind only rats and fire and death.
Fog moved in, thick and white, low to the ground. The wind ceased so that the mist lay dense and stationary. Without warning, several dozen wyverns dropped silently out of the sky, razor-sharp talons directed straight at the eyes of the sentries. The wyverns were everywhere working in precise synchronization to target each guard so that they were in and out before anyone could come to the sentries' assistance. Screams of pain and terror filled the void of silence so that the army raised up, grabbing for weapons and searching for an enemy in the thick white fog. They saw only their own people, empty sockets for eyes, blood running down faces as guards ran sightlessly in all directions.
In the center of the mass of warriors, an audible crack was heard, then another. Crack after crack and two lines of men dropped to the ground with broken necks. It was as if hidden within the thick fog were invisible enemies moving quickly from man to man breaking necks with their bare hands. Chaos erupted, men ran in all directions screaming into the surrounding forest. Dragons boiled out of nowhere, packs of them, snapping with powerful jaws at the fleeing army. Men fell on their own spears as if directed to do so. Others rammed their spears into neighbors unable to stop themselves no matter how hard they fought the compulsion. Blood and death reigned along with terror. Voices whispered in their heads, in the very air, whispered of defeat and death. Blood soaked the ground. The night went on and on until there was no place to hide from the unseen terrors, from the specters of death, from the wild beasts that came to help defeat the army.
In the morning the villagers went forth to fight and found only the dead in the forest clearing.
Fog moved in, thick and white, low to the ground. The wind ceased so that the mist lay dense and stationary. Without warning, several dozen wyverns dropped silently out of the sky, razor-sharp talons directed straight at the eyes of the sentries. The wyverns were everywhere working in precise synchronization to target each guard so that they were in and out before anyone could come to the sentries' assistance. Screams of pain and terror filled the void of silence so that the army raised up, grabbing for weapons and searching for an enemy in the thick white fog. They saw only their own people, empty sockets for eyes, blood running down faces as guards ran sightlessly in all directions.
In the center of the mass of warriors, an audible crack was heard, then another. Crack after crack and two lines of men dropped to the ground with broken necks. It was as if hidden within the thick fog were invisible enemies moving quickly from man to man breaking necks with their bare hands. Chaos erupted, men ran in all directions screaming into the surrounding forest. Dragons boiled out of nowhere, packs of them, snapping with powerful jaws at the fleeing army. Men fell on their own spears as if directed to do so. Others rammed their spears into neighbors unable to stop themselves no matter how hard they fought the compulsion. Blood and death reigned along with terror. Voices whispered in their heads, in the very air, whispered of defeat and death. Blood soaked the ground. The night went on and on until there was no place to hide from the unseen terrors, from the specters of death, from the wild beasts that came to help defeat the army.
In the morning the villagers went forth to fight and found only the dead in the forest clearing.