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The screams fall silent, blood oozes across the cobblestones.
A paltry resistance still cowers in the heart of Maradon, no matter. They will spread the tale. A lone figure exits through the eastern citygate, rejoining the fist of trollocs still feasting on the flesh of the dead, with a rasping chuckle he lets fall the scalps of four 'heroes' that have fallen in the day and left the human forces leaderless and without defence.
Dhai'mon gather, leering and contesting each other as the adrenaline of the kills slowly wears off.
Willingly they return to the Shadowspawn Stronghold, the routine of slaughter has become a second nature to them and they twitch in barely conceiled eagerness at the rewards they have earnt.
As the party separates into a running formation a piercing cry sounds the drawn-out end of one of those unfortunates who survived, for a while.
[ This Mail was edited by: Shzrei on 2007-10-02 11:08 ]
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