The grand parade moved through the pillars of stone that made up the strange lands in this kingdom. A quest was underway! Their lands had to be defended, and who else could personally right the wrongs of man but the wise Duke himself? And so it was that he gathered his best and set out to see the state of his new lands.
Ahead, as always, rode his trusty herald, clad in iron and bearing a trumpet. With each blow of the horn, a sonorous cry rang from the buildings, and between each blow he would cry -
The three gangers froze, spray cans held in their hands like warding symbols.
"The fuck was that?"
"I dunno, dude, I only came down here to tag the place -"
Ahead of the pack were the hounds, a finer pair never seen by the likes of man. With jet black coats and keen eyes, they would sniff out wrongdoers! Keeping them under control was the gentle lady Valreek, a lowly hunter that the Duke had brought into his court (the tale was a good one, but too long to tell here!). She would be responsible for gathering food on their long journey, for there was game in these forests and they had brought wine aplenty.
Of course, no good would go to waste with the Duke's own cook, a butcher from the town whom had impressed his Lordship with a trick involving pies. And Talon, the master of hawks, was there too - overeager as always to prove his worth. As they rode, he pointed and cried out -
"I thought you said the gargoyle lady didn't hang around here?"
"I'm pretty sure she doesn't make noises like that."
"How the fuck do you know?"
"Alright, fuck this shit. Lets get out of here."
The young men dropped their cans and ran, following their path back through the maze of alleys in the dense residential areas of the Undercity. They were in areas close to the Green Hell Zone. Most of the buildings and homes laid empty, since people did not like the idea of living near something with that name, but some enterprising souls had found that, with preparation, a lot could be done with the spaces that people didn't want. The destruction of the Curse had helped in that regard.
The three had taken what they had hoped were anti-radiation tablets. They were starting to wish they had taken other things. Like firepower. Or their boss. She'd have known what to do. They'd heard the stories, of how she -
"The fuck?" The cry came from up ahead under the leathery sound of something flapping, and a chitter.
"It's the gargoyle lady!"
"No it's not!"
"The fuck was it?"
The flutter and chitter again, like a sniggering child. They couldn't stop to find out. They had taken the last turn, and ahead was the street and their car -
"My duke! Behold! Some villain most foul hath besmirched the lands!"
Indeed it was so! Foul symbols, insults to the Duke and supplications to dark gods, were daubed on the side of the peasants huts. A clear symbol of this place being infested by traitors to the dark gods. And look! They ran now, almost skeletal with tattered rags, hissing as they went!
"I shall smite them, mine liege!" This was the cry of noble Gristlewel, a knight of true loyalty! He leapt forward, brandishing his greatsword -
Crack. The man at the rear went down with a cry. The other two got to the car. One of them was stupid enough to look back.
It had been a man, but it was clad in long, greasy hair and rags. Chains hung from its green-grey, clammy skin. It carried an oversize bone in both hands, brandishing it like a sword, standing over their fallen friend. Blood caked the end of the weapon. It hissed and gibbered, white eyes glaring.
"Avoi, thou crimināl!"
"Get in the car!"
The one who had looked back couldn't move. There were more shapes back in there, back in the alley. Lanky, gangly, low to the ground. He saw a flash of wings. And at the rear, light glinted off of metal.
"Fie to thee!"
The Duke's voice rang through the town square.
"Fie to thee, thou villaine! Get thee from this place hence, or suffer doom at my hand!"
It was screaming at him. He felt a hand yank him back into the car, felt the rumble of the engine, the scream of tires.
The pale eyes followed him.
Curses! A foul spell, a trick typical of the minions of Chaos. They had summoned a great beast to sweep them away.
"The hounds may pursue them, my lord Crakmarrow," came Valreek's soft tones.
"Nay." The Duke raised a hand. "The ruffians have learnt their lesson. They will not return to this place. You have done well, Gristlewel."
"Thank you, my lord."
Their grunts echoed in the alley over the still body.
"My lord!" The butcher approached the fallen form, surprise on his features. "The criminal! He has... Food on him! He must have been stealing from the peasants here..."
Crakmarrow's brow furrowed. Food? Did that make sense? Why would the ruffian have...?
He felt hungry...
The alley grew quiet as the figures looked at the body.
An hour later, there was only bones.
