“leave.” He said after a while. “Leave now, or there'll be trouble.”
“Trouble for who?” Siril asked. His threatening tone was unconvincing.
“Everyone.” The human answered. “You can't win against the Lord. He'll kill you and then he'll punish one of us.” He briefly glanced towards the adolescent girl. Siril noticed a similarity between them. The girl had to be the man's daughter, or a niece. “I won't risk him hurting my girl.”
“I will not leave until I am finished.” Siril forcefully said. She saw some of the men withdrawing weapons of varying sorts. “Where is your Lord?”
A high screech answered her, and one of the demonic hounds appeared from behind the furthest and largest building. The townsfolk hurriedly hid within their homes. The man who had confronted Siril ran towards his daughter and pulled her inside. Siril turned towards the largest house and saw a tall human standing in the doorway. He was huge, reminding her of the forest trolls that dwelt in the southern forests and waged war on the people of Draenii. He matched the greenskin physique almost perfectly. Ragged dark hair covered his scalp and chin and he looked upon Siril with an expression of amusement With her elf eyes she could see foul runes carved into his flesh. That was when she noticed the paleness of his flesh.
The Lord was not a summoner of demons. He was a demon held within a human body.
“It's been a long time since a soul like yours had the courage to face me.” He said, walking towards her. “Clearly you believe you can defeat me.”
Siril said nothing, but placed a hand on her falchion, curling her fingers around the handle. The hound saw her movement and growled, but the Lord stayed it with a wave of his hand. The hound hissed at Siril and softly padded into the forest.
“I have come to free these people.” Siril said firmly, though her situation was very different. She had been sent to fight a human. Could she now face a demon and win? They were rumoured to be the strongest and most deadly creatures alive. She spoken to a demon hunter once, and found him to be a lifeless as the hosts that demons wore.
But she had come this far, and these people needed help. She would give it, however much they feared her presence.
“Then try it.” The Lord said. He made no move to claim a weapon, and Siril knew that he wouldn't need one. She slid the falchion from its sheath, invoking the protection of the spirits.
Then she charged.
The fight was now over. Siril lay unconscious in the middle of the town, her falchion embedded in her hip. She had been successful, and she remained alive. The Lord lay dead close by, his throat sliced open. His hounds had been sent back to their source. The people of Misdrobar were free.
But Siril had paid a high price for her victory, one that she would never recover from.
The demon now dwelt inside her.
