The Demons Within

The Warrior of Heaven

Standing triumphantly upon a mountain of dead or dying bodies was one of the thousand golden winged Angels, the warriors of Light. Millions of enemy soldiers had die in a attempt to corrupt the very planet they stood on, a part of the much larger crusade against the mortals. Technological terrors had shattered the very crust of the world, The undead scourge had washed over the trembling defenders and Monsters previously only imagined in Children's nightmares had roared out their maddening quest for blood and skulls.

Four of the most unholy and powerful beings in the entire universe now fought against their creator, striking wildly at all of reality like a depraved beast. Once the angels had respected those four creatures, and even fought beside them, but The Lord had sadly informed them of the madness that had spread through them. They must be put down like the senile animals they had revealed themselves to be. Perhaps after the war the mortal children would use this as an example of what happened when you strayed from the lord.

Even now -mere minutes after the last battle had ended- another massive abomination of twisted flesh and metal blocked out the light of the sun. The mortals had named them Tomb ships, due to the endless streams of the restless dead that they seemed to belch out from their depths. Even if the Angel had not known its putrid contents already, the ship was a horrifying construct. It's titanic frame was larger than even the monolithic city that the mortals were desperately attempting to evacuate, and the warped flesh coalescing around the outside would defend against any attempts to breach the hull.

In a bout of near depression, the angel was almost thankful that this world was being swarmed by the children of Death. Death, in all his infamous hunger normally would refuse to allow the armies of his siblings to fight in his bloody campaigns. Only token forces, or the few necessary machines of Pestilence were allowed.

As the Angel forced himself to face the undoubtedly gruesome task ahead, he found himself surrounded by the seemingly craven mortal empire's military personnel. If they found their conviction lacking, or strength of arms dwindling he saw no reason for them to have joined their respective armies. What the lord saw in these pitiful beings was unknown, but he wished for them to live on. Therefore the Angel would fight as if he were fighting one of the Horsemen themselves.

The heavy blast that signaled the mortals firing their precious artillery sounded out, the angel merely scoffing as they connected with the Hellish Tomb Ship. They had already attempted this exact same tactic for the past three tomb ships, and with the exact same results. What ever that cursed combination of flesh and metal was, it was disgustingly resilient.

As one of the last of the fleeing mortals ships departed their world, the heavy metal bottom of the enemy crunched into the surface of the planet once more. The sharp creaking of gear began quickly, as the machines slowly prepared to unleash their deadly contents. Already decaying limbs appeared over the lid, as a few of the mindless creatures had climbed the descending ramp. With one last look at the city behind it, the angel drew his sword- holy fire spreading across the blade.

Before the first corpse had reached the blackening and corrupt ground, another shadow draped across the world. Yet another Tomb Ship, double the length of the previous one, was beginning its slow descent to the sundered crust. It seemed that Death was becoming impatient, his hand forced by his own hunger.

As the first horde swarmed across the battlefield the air visibly blackened with the thick smog pouring from the mortal's artillery, finally having a target that they could pummel. Whole legions of the dead fell to the primitive explosives, their bloated bodies popping with shrapnel.

But it was not enough. It never was enough.

The seemingly endless wave poured forth to meet the warrior Angel, his metallic halo crackling angrily with lightning. Lifting his spear to the heavens, he poured his righteous fury into his blade and with two heavy flaps of his pure wings lunged forward to meet the horde.

Each swing of the angel's holy sword cut down swathes of the undead, his fury channeling through the blade into a deadly storm of Lightning. Blood and old, waxy flesh fell in equal measures as the angel carved a path through the horde, just as he had done 20 other times in the past day. It had almost became a game, just to see how quickly he could wipe out each new horde.

Unfortunately for the angel, this run through would end very differently. Mere minutes into his counter assault, the supposedly constant tide of undead stopped. All he was surrounded by were dead (for the second time) bodies. Gazing towards the tomb ship, he saw the last few bodies drag themselves back onto the massive hanger bay just as the obnoxiously loud gears began their slow motion once more.

Pushing past the sound of the creaking gears, the angel realized something was very wrong. The constant, rhythmic firing of the artillery had ended. He was unsure why, as the mortals had assured him they had enough ammunition on hand to turn this half of the planet into a molten minefield, and even more concerning was the fact that the ever present scent of terror had cut off.

Sprinting his way back to his mountain of dead bodies, he failed to find the soldiers who had been 'fighting along side him'. Shrugging slightly, the angel assured himself that they had merely ran away, seeing as the evacuation was almost done. Perhaps it would be best for his safety as well for him to go there, as a few of his brethren were holding the fortress at the mass evacuation point.

The walk across the empty city was bone chilling. Not a single life form had been left on this planet, as all of it would simply feed Death's Hordes. Empty concrete buildings spiraled into the sky as vast monuments to the mortal's former glory, and lights flickered as their backup generators finally began to fail. The angel shuddered, horrified by the thought that the eternal city- the domain of the Lord- might one day look like this if their great enemy won.

Already some of the buildings had began to crumbling, their very foundations disturbed by the horrifying machines Pestilence had deployed before Death's hordes arrived. How Pestilence had managed to come up with and create so many new machines was a horrifying thought for the future war effort. It was practically impossible how many he had created in such a short time, and the angel felt a strange sensation run down his arms as he thought of the industrial efficiency needed for such a feat. Perhaps that sensation was called goosebumps, he had heard tales of these strange bumps before.

Reaching the oldest building on the planet, he found the last evacuation ship deserted. The sweet scent of blood lingered heavily across the crumbling building, but there were no signs of a prolonged struggle. There were no corpses, no pools of bubbling blood, or even scorch marks of missed shots. Trembling slightly, he realized that there was no sign of even his brethren who had sworn to not evacuate until they knew his fate.

Advancing cautiously, his blade lifted for in preparation for a sudden ambush, he snaked his way toward the ship. He knew that there were security cameras plastered everywhere, perhaps they would tell him what happened.

He finally reached the bulky door leading to some form of command hub, and pressed the flashing blue button which would allow him entry. For a few vital seconds, he lowered his Guard.

When the doors slide open, his golden eyes were greeting with a tall, thin man. Dark wisps of cloth hung from his frail looking arms, and looking past the man he saw pitch black feathers glistening with dark blood.

He almost instantly recognized this man as Death, and the feverish gaze his soulless black eyes only reaffirmed that belief. His holy relic flashed upward to cut the betrayer in twain only to be met with a gleaming scythe.

Seconds later, the man felt an eruption of pain from his wrist and heard the painfully loud clanking of his sword free falling to the ground. As he went to take a confused glance at his sword, the angel felt cold bony fingers twist their way around his throat. Slowly he was lifted off the ground, and he felt the cold digits clamp harshly.

Then he fell to the ground, his eyes forevermore staring at the dull metal roof.