The wind blew hard upon the stark hill on which the ritual was held, before leaving the town Kinshala had kidnapped several citizens who he would now have the very pleasant occasion of dealing with.
He walked over to the roughly bound prisoners he had kneeling before him, his boots shining in the morning sun, slick with the blood of the overzealous paladin.
As he walked closer to them knife in hand he could hear their whimpers grow more panicked and frenzied their eyes widening with fear, he crouched and undid their gags. This was where the fun begins.
“Greetings friends,” he spoke “and welcome to my most diabolical of rituals, today my pretties I shall be summoning a demon of the 14th hell, and you shall have a front row seat being sacrificed and all.” He could feel the tension in then rise by another notch, they looked at him desperation in their eyes, perfect just perfect.
“Please sir, don’t me and my people will give you any you want, just spare our lives.” And their it was, the age old argument, but Kinshala had no intention of listening, he crouched next to the old man, putting his arm around his shoulders and sweeping across the horizon with the other.
“But my friend can’t you see. Your lives are about to have for more meaning than they ever could have before for you see now, you will be able to bring about the harbinger of the apocalypse. But for all that I do get some people are just selfish enough to sneer at the greater good so, in the name of mercy. I shall let one of you live.”
He could feel the relief move off the man before it set in “One of us?”
“Yes, just one. You see I still need the other ten to summon the demon but one may live, I shall let you decide amongst yourselves.” He said smiling, this was where the fun began, now he would get to see them go for each other’s throats yes this was true beauty, the fight for survival.
“Sir, I beg you to reconsider.” Said the older man desperately.
“Shut up Haraff, you old bastard don’t anger him he might rescind his offer.” Said a younger woman probably in her early twenties.
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“I just might.” Kinshala said smiling watching them descend into hushed but panicked whispers as not to anger him, it was… Amusing to say the least.
After about an hour of heated bickering it seemed they would not make a unanimous decision, that didn't surprise Kinshala in fact he had been expecting this outcome. When people were backed against a wall the became desperate and when a way out became available they would crawl over the corpses of all in their way. he looked them over all of them wearing different expressions all of them terrified. It truely was the best night he had, had for a long time, then he rose from his sitting position on the grass, it was damp and smelt crisp and cool, well it did before it was stained with Haraff's blood.
Kinshala had without warning driven his sword through the back of the man's head splattering both the grass and the faces of his townsfolk with blood. Then the screaming started.
"What the fuck!" Yelled the younger woman as she tried helplessly to wipe the mans blood of her face with her hands bound, humans were he mused, amusing.
"Please no." Whimpered a middle aged man with a ridiculously muscled right arm he was either a blacksmith or spent a ridiculous amount of time alone, Kinshala thought it was the latter considering the mans bug eyes and pig nose.
"What in the gods are you?" Sobbed a woman with her grey hair tied back into a tight bun, now disheveled by the night festivities.
I my dear, I am Kinshala, though you can call me Kin. I am the Lord of Nightmares, Subjugator of demons and scourge of the earth." He proclaimed arms raised and head pointing to the morning sun screaming a challenge, although he was none of these things yet, he swore to the gods he would be, plus it sounded cool. "And if your, gods want to save your pitiful lives all they must do is strike me down where i stand." He stood expectantly, half expecting to be struck by a bolt of lightning, it would be the luck of the villains. But after no such occasion occurred he spoke again. "No? Well then, looks like the gods dont care whether you live or die, but i do." He said malevolently as he cleaved his sword into the woman's head splattering blood, brains and bone all over his face and that of those around him.
"Please, i'll do whatever you want, just please." Begged the young woman, until Kin drove his dagger into her left eye producing a satisfying squelching sound.
He cleaved, chopped and cut his way through the crowd in a hail of laughter, blood and gore until it was done, he then fell to his knees and laughed at the bodies, he sliced his left hand with his knife and drew a pentagram on the orb he had taken from the paladin.
Come now demon, feast upon the souls of these sacrifices and in return, grant me what I so want. He yelled at the orb, soon he would bring blood to the kingdoms of man, soon he would spit in the face of the heavens. Soon he told himself, and then the orb exploded.