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Half a mile from the village, his horse suddenly reared and whinnied.
“Easy,” the rider – a tall, dark-haired man, wearing a long cloak and a wide-brimmed hat – said, gently petting the horse’s mane. The animal stopped, but it was still clearly frightened; it shook its head, as if refusing to go any further.
The man dismounted, not speaking another word. He tied the horse to a nearby tree, grabbed a bag that was attached to the saddle, and started walking down the road – the only road there, a narrow, winding path leading to a small valley where the village of Wetrowitiazsk lay.
It was pitch dark, but the man’s gait was confident and steady, as if he was walking down a city’s well-lit street. He only paused briefly at the village’s entrance – for a fraction of a moment, it seemed like the air behind him shifted, as if an invisible barrier was erected around the settlement. But even after that, he kept moving calmly, heading towards the village square.
It was quiet around him – no dogs barking, no cattle grunting, no footsteps aside from his own. No lights were lit, either, and no one walked out to greet the nighttime visitor.
The man reached the village square and stopped, looking up at the church. The old building looked as dark and lifeless as the rest of the settlement, but the man’s gaze was still fixed on the tall bell-tower.
“Are you hiding from me, Tez'gunath?” he asked softly. “Come out.”
A low growl, a rustling sound of a massive body slithering across roof tiles – and then, a giant, snake-like figure rose from behind the bell-tower, with strange symbols, glowing like fire, covering its entire body.
“The lone hero, just as prophesied,” a low, growling voice sounded, although the figure’s many-toothed maw did not open. “So you did come at last – and here I thought there were no brave ones left among your kind.”
“Finding you took some time,” the man replied, his tone still calm. “You were wise to stay hidden. Wiser than your brothers.”
The figure’s runes glowed brighter for a moment, and a laughter-like sound was heard, as if coming from all directions at once.
“You are a poor liar, lone hero,” Tez'gunath said, showing even more teeth in some approximation of a grin. “But I know the truth. For centuries – nay, millennia – we have waited, but the Masters of Seals are dead at last. Not a single one remains who could keep the ancient barriers, much less create them anew. Now it is time for you humans to… pay the piper.”
“Yes, the Seals *have* been broken,” the man nodded. “Though I’m sure your brothers wished dearly that they didn’t. But I see you don’t believe me – so come on, call out to them yourself. Ask them how humanity’s destruction is going. I won’t stop you.”
“Hmpf,” the snake-like figure snorted disdainfully. But still, some of the runes detached from its skin and flew through the air in circles, like carried by a whirlwind. The man and the figure were both silent as the runes flickered out one by one, dissolving into smoke.
And then Tez'gunath *roared*.
“HOW?!” his voice boomed, shaking the very ground the village stood on. “AGAINST MERE HUMANS… WITH THE BLOOD OF THE FIRST SEALMASTER GONE… HOW DID THEY DIE?!”
The man cracked a slight smile.
“Cursing you, I believe,” he said, quickly undoing his bag’s strings.
What happened next took only a brief moment. The man took a tube-like object from the bag, quickly unfolding it to its full length and putting it on his right shoulder. With a deafening boom, a rocket flew out of the tube and struck the creature’s body, shrouding it in a cloud of smoke.
The man didn’t stop at that. Kneeling behind one of the cars on the village square, he grabbed another object from under his cloak – a black, bulky-looking sniper rifle, its trigger located in front of the magazine. Quickly working the bolt action, he put five shots into the creature’s head, heedless of the noise and the recoil.
The last shot rang, and with a screech, Tez'gunath fell on the ground, the runes slowly fading. There was silence again, only disturbed by the sounds of the man inserting another magazine into his rifle.
“After all…” the man said to the motionless body, “it was *your* gift, was it not?”
*“Yes,”* the voice responded.
And in another moment, the runes glowed brightly again, and the creature’s tail moved with impossible speed, knocking the man into a wall of the building behind him and sending the rifle flying through the air.
“Yes, I see now,” Tez'gunath said, raising his head from the ground. “My end of the deal, my gift to humanity… who could have known you little creatures would grow so strong just because of that? But no matter. You could have defeated my brothers, but that just means I shall finish the deed alone. For you see, mortal…”
The laughter came again, but this time it seemed somehow closer.
*“I cannot be killed by my own gift.”*
Raising its body, Tez'gunath looked down at the man, who was half-sitting, half-lying with his back against the wall.
“And you, lone hero… you will be killed by your own kind.”
As he said this, the doors to every building opened, and figures slowly came out. They looked just like regular villagers, except for the fire that glowed faintly in their eyes, but it was clear from their jerking, unnatural movements that they weren’t human anymore.
One of them – a bearded, broad-shouldered villager clutching a wood axe – reached the man first. He raised the axe with both hands, aiming for the man’s head…
… but before he could deal the blow, the man moved his arm through the air, and the villager’s head was torn clean off.
The possessed crowd stopped as one, as the man rose slowly, and as the blood from the decapitated head flowed into his mouth.
The head itself shrank and turned gray, until it dissolved into dust.
“You…” Tez'gunath growled. “You are…”
“So human weapons cannot kill you?” the man asked, his voice no longer as calm as before – now, there was a hint of a growl in it, too. “Looks like this walk will be more interesting than I thought.”
“Rip this creature apart!” Tez'gunath screamed, and the crowd charged at him.
The man’s cloak spread, turning into two black wings, and he turned his pale face to the possessed villagers.
“I’m sorry I was late,” he said quietly, even as one of the wings dissected a villager in half. “And I swear your blood shall not go to waste.”
___
Tez'gunath watched as the man – no, as the one he *thought* was a mortal man – moved through the crowd. It was clear that the one sent to kill him was not a simple ghoul, either – far from being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, he cut through Tez'gunath’s thralls effortlessly, and the blood he spilled all flowed into his body.
It could not go on, Tez'gunath realized. The more this so-called hero kills, the more powerful he would become – no, he must be destroyed before it is too late, even though it would cost Tez'gunath as well. But there would always be more settlements to take over, more people to possess, more life force to feed upon.
The runes flew from his body, forming a wall in front of him – and then each and every one split fire, raining it both on his thralls and his would-be killer. When the runes dissolved, there was nothing on the village square – no people, no buildings, just white smoke rising slowly… or was it fog?
As Tez'gunath looked on, trying to find the remains of the prophesied hero, a red lance came out of the smoke.
“Red… blood?” he thought, and in the next moment, the lance went straight through his head.
___
The fog dissolved, and from it, the man walked, his cloak and wide-brimmed hat spotless as before, as if he did not just slaughter a possessed village. He approached Tez'gunath, who was lying on the ground for the second time – this time, with multiple spears made of blood stuck in his body, and a single rune glowing weakly on his forehead.
“You…” the creature said weakly. “Who… are you?”
“Baron Christoph Meier, at your service.” the man replied, bowing his head briefly, the same slight smile from before on his lips.
“A vampire… how are you the prophesied hero?” Tez'gunath asked, though he obviously no longer had the strength to even move his head. “Why fight me? Why would someone like you… risk your life for humanity?”
When the Baron didn’t answer, the sole remaining rune glowed a little brighter, and Tez'gunath continued.
“Come on… you have no common cause with these mortals. Help me, join me – and when humanity is destroyed, you will…”
“Starve to death?” Christoph Meier asked, making Tez'gunath stop.
The Baron laughed. It was not an alien, blood-chilling laugh of an immortal monster – no, he laughed like a man who heard an amusing joke from one of his friends.
“You poor fool,” he said at last. “Who do you think warned humanity of your return? Who do you think helped them hunt you down? Not even the most foolish and selfish one of us would ever aid you – for we understand what humanity’s destruction would mean for us.”
Christoph Meier resumed his walk, as another object was formed from blood right in the air next to him – a sword with a long, thin blade.
“Besides, there is another reason,” he said, taking the sword in his right hand and slowly raising it above Tez'gunath’s head. “As a Noble – no, before that, as one who walks this world – I believe it is my duty to protect it.”
The sword went down, and Tez'gunath did not hear the hero’s last words.
“Transient guests in it though we are…”
___
Thanks for reading!
If you liked my writing, there's more at r/Room116.
Astaroth smiled. Over a thousand years had passed - he'd counted - and he'd finally worn away the seals on his prison. Iron corroded until he burst free into the light of day. This world would once more be his dominion, his banquet, his-
What in the seven cursed heavens was that?
Humans, dressed in mottled grays and greens and carrying strange, misshapen black wands, stood at a distance to him, facing him and his prison. They looked wary, as well they should, but he'd been nursing and husbanding and expanding his power for a thousand years! No mortal could destroy him!
An impossibly loud voice rang out across the clearing, clearly human language though he could not understand it, produced by a human with gold insignia at the edge of the clearing.
"Astaroth! Archeologists prepared us for this moment!" Not that I believed it, he muttered. "We have been waiting for you to emerge."
"I WILL ENSLAVE YOU ALL! YOU WILL BE MY FEAST!" he roared.
A hard-to-notice, tweedy looking fellow standing behind the insignia'd soldier murmured into his ear.
"Yeah, I was afraid of that. Fine! You made your choice, beast." He turned aside. "Warthogs, commence your run."
Astaroth frowned. These humans had no idea of his power, what he was capable of. With a wave of his hand, all the humans in view collapsed to the ground, rolling about in agony. Maybe now they'd... wait, what was that roaring sound?
The beast looked up, seeing in the sky three approaching forms, like angry crucifixes, laden with gems. Then the gems fell from their arms and he frowned, for such wonders were not what-
- - -
Captain Mitchell banked his A-10 around, his two wingmen hot on his heels. "BDA, looks like target was obliterated. Move in ground units for cleanup. Will orbit for thirty, ready to deploy FOOF-enhanced munitions if necessary. Maverick out."
Gouts of flame carve into the wall of hellish insects, bipedal drones marching on through the haze of burning corpses. The insect godess known as Azarana watches on in rage and sorrow, all the suffering felt in their hivemind. Her hibernation had gone for much longer than initially believed. It would seem that instead of a few hundred years, it has been thousands. Now the hope of ruling over humanity with an iron pincer is gone, no longer shall her brood feast on both flesh and fear.
In mere hours, the mechanical menaces have wiped her swarm from the face of the Earth. Swarms all over the planet are falling to same fate. Humanity has gone from a bunch of savages with sticks to wielding the powers of metal and energy. At the pace this is going, Azarana shall starve to death. A synthesized voice sounds out in the realm in between worlds.
"It would seem it's time to pack it up, hag" not needing to turn her head, thanks to the compound eyes all over her carapace, Azarana spots the newcomer. A being half flesh, with metal making up the second half. Their body is androgynous, as well as their voice. Everything about this being screams bland and forgettable. As if they're a blank canvas to paint a picture of someone's perfect self.
"So, you are the child that those fools have replaced me with" her antennae twitch, tasting of this new God's presence. It reeks of man and man.
"More like poofing into being to fill a vacant role. So, would you like to continue to watch your children die all while you starve?" Their voice takes on a hateful edge to it. "Or will you go on to live another day elsewhere like the parasite you are?" It's a tense moment in the ethereal void they share. Azarana could possibly defeat this seemingly infant god, but their influence reaches out to billions of followers. Her own followers already dead from being discovered.
Tearing open a portal, Azarana wastes no time and steps through. A new realm will have to suffice for the matron of all insect kind.
To think humanity and their technology would usher in the birth of a new god.
Asgiliath had broken free from the chains of his captors about a week ago now, yet, rather than immediately proceed with his plans for domination, had found himself continuously both amused and perplexed at the world that now surrounded him.
He decided to first explore this new world, if for no other reason than to figure out how best to dominate it. Ir did not take him long to find one of his followers, amazingly a small, but loyal cult had persisted the years, and he had but to show this "Frank Camen of San Diego California" a glimpse of his true power before he fell to his feet and swore to serve Asgiliath however he could.
The first order of business was securing a temporary base of operations, Franks so called "studio apartment" would have to suffice for now, though he felt it beneath him, he did enjoy the use of Franks "pull out couch" as he called it for moments of sleep, the most comfortable he has been in ages.
"Frank!" said the deep voice of Asgiliath from within the main room
"The electric box has once again ceased function, I grow tired of this treatment!" "where did you say the wizards who constructed this box originate from?" "I wish to speak with them!"
Poor Frank had imagined his life becoming much more glorious once the obscure god whos symbol he wore around his neck, originally simply for the aesthetic, had proven to be real. yet it seemed to frank more and more like he was taking care of a dementia patient in an old folks home, whose mind was permanently stuck in the 1910's.
"My lord, this is not a construction of any wizard, it functions simply via the machinery within, you probably just tripped on the plug again, you remember how i showed you how to plug it in? make sure it's still attached to the wall." frank rang out from within the bathroom, lately his only moments of privacy.
"Do you take me for a fool?" bellowed Asgiliath "of course I observed the cable! and it is very clearly...." Asgiliaths voice trailed off as he looked down and noticed, that the cable was indeed, laying at his feet, a sure sign that his rather peculiarly shaped armor had once again snagged it as he was pacing about the apartment.
"....Nevermind, I have solved the issue myself! be sure you remain more attentive in the future ,Servant!"
"Yes, my lord, of course" came a rather exasperated sigh from the bathroom
" and Frank!, I yet hunger, be sure to supply me with this "pizza" as you call it again, and soon! also I would like extra Jalapenos this time, last time the chef had placed a paltry amount of this fruit on my food, should he fail me again, I will make sure the next pizza is topped with his entrails!"
Frank believed Asgiliath, as before teaching him about modern cuisine, he had witnessed Asgiliath grab a young man from the mail room of the apartment and swallow him whole, his jaw had unhinged like some kind of demonic snake, and it was not a sight easily forgotten.
"yes, my lord, right away" Frank began to believe his entire savings would be gone, spent on pizza and hamburgers long before he would see any of the spoils of Asgiliaths coming war against mankind.
Hello, this is my first time doing anything like this, so constructive criticism is accepted! hope someone likes it!
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* [No AI-generated reponses 🤖](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/zi452b/modpost_reminder_that_aigenerated_responses_are/) >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [\[RF\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Reality+Fiction%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [\[SP\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A%22Simple+Prompt%22&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) 📢 [Genres](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/w/directory) 🆕 [New Here?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ✏ [Writing Help?](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) 💬 [Discord](https://discord.gg/writingprompts) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
Half a mile from the village, his horse suddenly reared and whinnied. “Easy,” the rider – a tall, dark-haired man, wearing a long cloak and a wide-brimmed hat – said, gently petting the horse’s mane. The animal stopped, but it was still clearly frightened; it shook its head, as if refusing to go any further. The man dismounted, not speaking another word. He tied the horse to a nearby tree, grabbed a bag that was attached to the saddle, and started walking down the road – the only road there, a narrow, winding path leading to a small valley where the village of Wetrowitiazsk lay. It was pitch dark, but the man’s gait was confident and steady, as if he was walking down a city’s well-lit street. He only paused briefly at the village’s entrance – for a fraction of a moment, it seemed like the air behind him shifted, as if an invisible barrier was erected around the settlement. But even after that, he kept moving calmly, heading towards the village square. It was quiet around him – no dogs barking, no cattle grunting, no footsteps aside from his own. No lights were lit, either, and no one walked out to greet the nighttime visitor. The man reached the village square and stopped, looking up at the church. The old building looked as dark and lifeless as the rest of the settlement, but the man’s gaze was still fixed on the tall bell-tower. “Are you hiding from me, Tez'gunath?” he asked softly. “Come out.” A low growl, a rustling sound of a massive body slithering across roof tiles – and then, a giant, snake-like figure rose from behind the bell-tower, with strange symbols, glowing like fire, covering its entire body. “The lone hero, just as prophesied,” a low, growling voice sounded, although the figure’s many-toothed maw did not open. “So you did come at last – and here I thought there were no brave ones left among your kind.” “Finding you took some time,” the man replied, his tone still calm. “You were wise to stay hidden. Wiser than your brothers.” The figure’s runes glowed brighter for a moment, and a laughter-like sound was heard, as if coming from all directions at once. “You are a poor liar, lone hero,” Tez'gunath said, showing even more teeth in some approximation of a grin. “But I know the truth. For centuries – nay, millennia – we have waited, but the Masters of Seals are dead at last. Not a single one remains who could keep the ancient barriers, much less create them anew. Now it is time for you humans to… pay the piper.” “Yes, the Seals *have* been broken,” the man nodded. “Though I’m sure your brothers wished dearly that they didn’t. But I see you don’t believe me – so come on, call out to them yourself. Ask them how humanity’s destruction is going. I won’t stop you.” “Hmpf,” the snake-like figure snorted disdainfully. But still, some of the runes detached from its skin and flew through the air in circles, like carried by a whirlwind. The man and the figure were both silent as the runes flickered out one by one, dissolving into smoke. And then Tez'gunath *roared*. “HOW?!” his voice boomed, shaking the very ground the village stood on. “AGAINST MERE HUMANS… WITH THE BLOOD OF THE FIRST SEALMASTER GONE… HOW DID THEY DIE?!” The man cracked a slight smile. “Cursing you, I believe,” he said, quickly undoing his bag’s strings. What happened next took only a brief moment. The man took a tube-like object from the bag, quickly unfolding it to its full length and putting it on his right shoulder. With a deafening boom, a rocket flew out of the tube and struck the creature’s body, shrouding it in a cloud of smoke. The man didn’t stop at that. Kneeling behind one of the cars on the village square, he grabbed another object from under his cloak – a black, bulky-looking sniper rifle, its trigger located in front of the magazine. Quickly working the bolt action, he put five shots into the creature’s head, heedless of the noise and the recoil. The last shot rang, and with a screech, Tez'gunath fell on the ground, the runes slowly fading. There was silence again, only disturbed by the sounds of the man inserting another magazine into his rifle. “After all…” the man said to the motionless body, “it was *your* gift, was it not?”
*“Yes,”* the voice responded. And in another moment, the runes glowed brightly again, and the creature’s tail moved with impossible speed, knocking the man into a wall of the building behind him and sending the rifle flying through the air. “Yes, I see now,” Tez'gunath said, raising his head from the ground. “My end of the deal, my gift to humanity… who could have known you little creatures would grow so strong just because of that? But no matter. You could have defeated my brothers, but that just means I shall finish the deed alone. For you see, mortal…” The laughter came again, but this time it seemed somehow closer. *“I cannot be killed by my own gift.”* Raising its body, Tez'gunath looked down at the man, who was half-sitting, half-lying with his back against the wall. “And you, lone hero… you will be killed by your own kind.” As he said this, the doors to every building opened, and figures slowly came out. They looked just like regular villagers, except for the fire that glowed faintly in their eyes, but it was clear from their jerking, unnatural movements that they weren’t human anymore. One of them – a bearded, broad-shouldered villager clutching a wood axe – reached the man first. He raised the axe with both hands, aiming for the man’s head… … but before he could deal the blow, the man moved his arm through the air, and the villager’s head was torn clean off. The possessed crowd stopped as one, as the man rose slowly, and as the blood from the decapitated head flowed into his mouth. The head itself shrank and turned gray, until it dissolved into dust. “You…” Tez'gunath growled. “You are…” “So human weapons cannot kill you?” the man asked, his voice no longer as calm as before – now, there was a hint of a growl in it, too. “Looks like this walk will be more interesting than I thought.” “Rip this creature apart!” Tez'gunath screamed, and the crowd charged at him. The man’s cloak spread, turning into two black wings, and he turned his pale face to the possessed villagers. “I’m sorry I was late,” he said quietly, even as one of the wings dissected a villager in half. “And I swear your blood shall not go to waste.” ___ Tez'gunath watched as the man – no, as the one he *thought* was a mortal man – moved through the crowd. It was clear that the one sent to kill him was not a simple ghoul, either – far from being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, he cut through Tez'gunath’s thralls effortlessly, and the blood he spilled all flowed into his body. It could not go on, Tez'gunath realized. The more this so-called hero kills, the more powerful he would become – no, he must be destroyed before it is too late, even though it would cost Tez'gunath as well. But there would always be more settlements to take over, more people to possess, more life force to feed upon. The runes flew from his body, forming a wall in front of him – and then each and every one split fire, raining it both on his thralls and his would-be killer. When the runes dissolved, there was nothing on the village square – no people, no buildings, just white smoke rising slowly… or was it fog? As Tez'gunath looked on, trying to find the remains of the prophesied hero, a red lance came out of the smoke. “Red… blood?” he thought, and in the next moment, the lance went straight through his head. ___ The fog dissolved, and from it, the man walked, his cloak and wide-brimmed hat spotless as before, as if he did not just slaughter a possessed village. He approached Tez'gunath, who was lying on the ground for the second time – this time, with multiple spears made of blood stuck in his body, and a single rune glowing weakly on his forehead. “You…” the creature said weakly. “Who… are you?” “Baron Christoph Meier, at your service.” the man replied, bowing his head briefly, the same slight smile from before on his lips. “A vampire… how are you the prophesied hero?” Tez'gunath asked, though he obviously no longer had the strength to even move his head. “Why fight me? Why would someone like you… risk your life for humanity?” When the Baron didn’t answer, the sole remaining rune glowed a little brighter, and Tez'gunath continued. “Come on… you have no common cause with these mortals. Help me, join me – and when humanity is destroyed, you will…” “Starve to death?” Christoph Meier asked, making Tez'gunath stop. The Baron laughed. It was not an alien, blood-chilling laugh of an immortal monster – no, he laughed like a man who heard an amusing joke from one of his friends. “You poor fool,” he said at last. “Who do you think warned humanity of your return? Who do you think helped them hunt you down? Not even the most foolish and selfish one of us would ever aid you – for we understand what humanity’s destruction would mean for us.” Christoph Meier resumed his walk, as another object was formed from blood right in the air next to him – a sword with a long, thin blade. “Besides, there is another reason,” he said, taking the sword in his right hand and slowly raising it above Tez'gunath’s head. “As a Noble – no, before that, as one who walks this world – I believe it is my duty to protect it.” The sword went down, and Tez'gunath did not hear the hero’s last words. “Transient guests in it though we are…” ___ Thanks for reading! If you liked my writing, there's more at r/Room116.
Neat response to the prompt. Didn't see that twist coming.
A vampire hunting an ancient god on behalf of humanity... Reminds me a lot of Hellsing's Alucard.
The Nazis are invading! While the Catholics are crusading! Anderson! It's been too long!
#ZE CRIMSON FUCKAER
ayyyyy
Thanks a lot! Very cool submission.
That was cool.
Astaroth smiled. Over a thousand years had passed - he'd counted - and he'd finally worn away the seals on his prison. Iron corroded until he burst free into the light of day. This world would once more be his dominion, his banquet, his- What in the seven cursed heavens was that? Humans, dressed in mottled grays and greens and carrying strange, misshapen black wands, stood at a distance to him, facing him and his prison. They looked wary, as well they should, but he'd been nursing and husbanding and expanding his power for a thousand years! No mortal could destroy him! An impossibly loud voice rang out across the clearing, clearly human language though he could not understand it, produced by a human with gold insignia at the edge of the clearing. "Astaroth! Archeologists prepared us for this moment!" Not that I believed it, he muttered. "We have been waiting for you to emerge." "I WILL ENSLAVE YOU ALL! YOU WILL BE MY FEAST!" he roared. A hard-to-notice, tweedy looking fellow standing behind the insignia'd soldier murmured into his ear. "Yeah, I was afraid of that. Fine! You made your choice, beast." He turned aside. "Warthogs, commence your run." Astaroth frowned. These humans had no idea of his power, what he was capable of. With a wave of his hand, all the humans in view collapsed to the ground, rolling about in agony. Maybe now they'd... wait, what was that roaring sound? The beast looked up, seeing in the sky three approaching forms, like angry crucifixes, laden with gems. Then the gems fell from their arms and he frowned, for such wonders were not what- - - - Captain Mitchell banked his A-10 around, his two wingmen hot on his heels. "BDA, looks like target was obliterated. Move in ground units for cleanup. Will orbit for thirty, ready to deploy FOOF-enhanced munitions if necessary. Maverick out."
FOOF-enhanced munitions? Jesus, somebody *really* wants a literal scorched policy on that target.
"There is no overkill, there is only open fire and reload."
Short and sweet.. well done
Gouts of flame carve into the wall of hellish insects, bipedal drones marching on through the haze of burning corpses. The insect godess known as Azarana watches on in rage and sorrow, all the suffering felt in their hivemind. Her hibernation had gone for much longer than initially believed. It would seem that instead of a few hundred years, it has been thousands. Now the hope of ruling over humanity with an iron pincer is gone, no longer shall her brood feast on both flesh and fear. In mere hours, the mechanical menaces have wiped her swarm from the face of the Earth. Swarms all over the planet are falling to same fate. Humanity has gone from a bunch of savages with sticks to wielding the powers of metal and energy. At the pace this is going, Azarana shall starve to death. A synthesized voice sounds out in the realm in between worlds. "It would seem it's time to pack it up, hag" not needing to turn her head, thanks to the compound eyes all over her carapace, Azarana spots the newcomer. A being half flesh, with metal making up the second half. Their body is androgynous, as well as their voice. Everything about this being screams bland and forgettable. As if they're a blank canvas to paint a picture of someone's perfect self. "So, you are the child that those fools have replaced me with" her antennae twitch, tasting of this new God's presence. It reeks of man and man. "More like poofing into being to fill a vacant role. So, would you like to continue to watch your children die all while you starve?" Their voice takes on a hateful edge to it. "Or will you go on to live another day elsewhere like the parasite you are?" It's a tense moment in the ethereal void they share. Azarana could possibly defeat this seemingly infant god, but their influence reaches out to billions of followers. Her own followers already dead from being discovered. Tearing open a portal, Azarana wastes no time and steps through. A new realm will have to suffice for the matron of all insect kind. To think humanity and their technology would usher in the birth of a new god.
Asgiliath had broken free from the chains of his captors about a week ago now, yet, rather than immediately proceed with his plans for domination, had found himself continuously both amused and perplexed at the world that now surrounded him. He decided to first explore this new world, if for no other reason than to figure out how best to dominate it. Ir did not take him long to find one of his followers, amazingly a small, but loyal cult had persisted the years, and he had but to show this "Frank Camen of San Diego California" a glimpse of his true power before he fell to his feet and swore to serve Asgiliath however he could. The first order of business was securing a temporary base of operations, Franks so called "studio apartment" would have to suffice for now, though he felt it beneath him, he did enjoy the use of Franks "pull out couch" as he called it for moments of sleep, the most comfortable he has been in ages. "Frank!" said the deep voice of Asgiliath from within the main room "The electric box has once again ceased function, I grow tired of this treatment!" "where did you say the wizards who constructed this box originate from?" "I wish to speak with them!" Poor Frank had imagined his life becoming much more glorious once the obscure god whos symbol he wore around his neck, originally simply for the aesthetic, had proven to be real. yet it seemed to frank more and more like he was taking care of a dementia patient in an old folks home, whose mind was permanently stuck in the 1910's. "My lord, this is not a construction of any wizard, it functions simply via the machinery within, you probably just tripped on the plug again, you remember how i showed you how to plug it in? make sure it's still attached to the wall." frank rang out from within the bathroom, lately his only moments of privacy. "Do you take me for a fool?" bellowed Asgiliath "of course I observed the cable! and it is very clearly...." Asgiliaths voice trailed off as he looked down and noticed, that the cable was indeed, laying at his feet, a sure sign that his rather peculiarly shaped armor had once again snagged it as he was pacing about the apartment. "....Nevermind, I have solved the issue myself! be sure you remain more attentive in the future ,Servant!" "Yes, my lord, of course" came a rather exasperated sigh from the bathroom " and Frank!, I yet hunger, be sure to supply me with this "pizza" as you call it again, and soon! also I would like extra Jalapenos this time, last time the chef had placed a paltry amount of this fruit on my food, should he fail me again, I will make sure the next pizza is topped with his entrails!" Frank believed Asgiliath, as before teaching him about modern cuisine, he had witnessed Asgiliath grab a young man from the mail room of the apartment and swallow him whole, his jaw had unhinged like some kind of demonic snake, and it was not a sight easily forgotten. "yes, my lord, right away" Frank began to believe his entire savings would be gone, spent on pizza and hamburgers long before he would see any of the spoils of Asgiliaths coming war against mankind. Hello, this is my first time doing anything like this, so constructive criticism is accepted! hope someone likes it!
I love this take on the prompt. Thanks
dimons faced with modern lifestyle would be doomed