With twilight descending upon the frostbitten land below, a single lone caravan traveled across the vast open field. Its wheels bumped and clacked over the bumpy dirt road, and the horses pulling the caravan moved like melancholy shadow beasts in the deadening light. Up above in the sky, stars began to wink into sight as the sun was drowned by the horizon.
The two men mounted at the front of the wagon talked quietly amongst themselves, their robes of blue and gold flapped in the wind. Hoods hung low in their faces and bows of light wood, scrap metal, and animal bones were strapped to their backs. Several other men on stallions of black rode around the caravan with torches in their hands. The wind was getting restless.
There was little to no sound, just the whistle of the wind and the crunch of frosty grass underfoot.
It took only a few seconds for a large beast to leap from the shadows and land in the path of the caravan. It was too large for the men's torches to light up to see. With a single swipe of its great black hand, every man in that group was dead. The beast stiffened before crumbling like rubble to the ground.
At a large, horseshoe-shaped table, sat ten figures. The tables dark wood reflected the red light from the hanging lanterns above. All four corners of the room were veiled in black shadow. At the very center of the table was a large man-the Middleman, with skin the color of alabaster and a head full of black hair. His eyes were a piercing blue surrounded by black sclera. A long scar traveled down his chin and stopped somewhere below the color of his black and blue suit. He was the head honcho. Four equally intimidating men and women sat at either side, having similar physical attributes. And on the man's left, standing strikingly out of place with ginger hair and tan skin, was a small girl. She looked the most human out of them all.
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At the opened end of the table was a group of five people. Again, alabaster skin, dark hair, and blue eyes. Two had great horns protruding from their skulls, while another had more demonic traits than human. "We completed the deed," a woman standing at the head of the small group spoke in a sharp tone, in one clawed hand was a head.
"Did anyone survive?" One of the men sitting at the table, a Councilman, spoke. His large nose wiggled and bobbed as he spoke, and his bushy black eyebrows covered most of his beady eyes.
The woman looked back at the men behind her and whispered something snake-like under her breath before turning back to the big-nosed Councilman. "No, all dead in one hit," she paused and chuckled a little. "Shame, I could've had some fun with them if they'd lived."
The Middleman at the table tsk'd, the small girl next to him flinched and the woman holding the head quite her chuckling. "And the document?" His tone was biting. Unforgiving. The little girl watched with big, solemn eyes as the woman before her began to grow uneasy.
"Yes, we have it," a man- if you could even call it that anymore- behind her handed the woman a tightly rolled scroll. A wax seal of red kept it shut. With a swift movement the scroll flew from her hands into a Councilman's hand, he sat on the righthand side of the Middleman. His eyes were uneven, and two twisting green horns rested atop his black dreads, one was snapped in half. He passed the scroll to the Middleman, who had a pleased look on his face.
"Dismissed," as the group of five walked to an unseen exit, the Middleman leaned down to the girl standing beside him. "See, Laurianna, my dear? I hope you were watching well, this will be your job sooner than you think," she did not look him in the eyes but nodded in understanding. "Good."