Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

'The walls fell, and the sounds of war that day were heard as far as the Republic of Rocasus.' – Script Of Savant [As written by Lft. Admiral Savant Horrocis, the Third Commander of the Iron Force In the War of Three Cities].

. . .

"Who the fuck's out there?!" Israfel grabbed Lilith and shook her hard. To his wrathful glare, the goth Principality had only her gorgeous smile. Her black lipstick annoyed her nephew the more. He would toss her off the window if he didn't know she'd just sprout wings and fly off. He shook her harder.

"Who? Gods-dammit! Tell me?!"

"Who do you think, my dearest? Our fucking family, of course." Lilith raised her fine hands in dark pride, looking for the first time as demented as she was on the inside. A [Yandere] capable of pysching out and murdering everything in a ten-mile radius. Not everyone. Everything. For as Moloch the Destroyer loved to groom wee girl children, Lilith loved the slaughter of rams and chickens just as much. A bit of habit she had picked up from her last time on the mortal plane eons ago.

A time when she'd had to suffer the shame of being the side chick of the first man in the world. Lilith did not miss those days. Slaughter and sacrifice of animals was a habit that had followed her through the centuries. She was happy; these days people slaughtered to her: lambs—and even Okapi.

"It's a family reunion," she told Rafel with a bright smile, "say hello to The Fallen everybody! Masters of the Abyss. You wanted a war, my darlin'. Well, you bloody got one!" She went chuckling.

Rafel stopped listening when she said [The Fallen].

'This can't be good, Peitho.' he spoke softly to his psych companion. On this evening, his omniscient system had no comeback.

My family? Rafel was thinking.

He didn't have to do so for long.

The pillars of dust beyond the fall of the walls blew in the swift breeze. They cleared up and exposed to all eyes—literally everyone in the city—the might and true glory of the [Infernal Host]. The southern rebels had stopped hacking at the sellswords and Blackguards. "What in the tarnation is that?" A Bonelander bandit and an Eldorian flag-officer said as one. High in castle at Darkwake, in the painted chamber of the magnificent gargoyle palace, the Dowager of Titans Landing raised her hands and voice: "Behold, nephew. Behold, you fucking rebel cunts too. BEHOLD! MY TRUE ARMY!"

Out from the ruins of the Capital's stone walls, and the swirling dust, great horned heads of the most revered Hel royalty sat astride monstrous frightful beasts from the pits of the abyss.

Two words—

[The Fallen].

Rafel spotted with his demonic [Cyclops Eye], even from his perch miles away, both his Uncles: Lord Lucifer Morningstar was in the fore-front parade of this godless host emerging out from the dust. He was riding the terror of the deep, [Boiler of Seas], the Titan, Leviathan. This creatures from the same hideous trenches as the Kraken towered over the ranks of Lilith's armies. If the wall still stood, the darned beast would dwarf it too.

People in the city felt their ankles tremor and their knees knock together. A priest of the Martyr peered from the bell tower of the Cathedral and made the Holy Sign. No one in the Capital had forgotten that gloomy day when the Titans had first landed: how the skies and earth had turned the same blood-red.

...How the big bastards had looked down on scores of mortal lives as locusts. Just before turning them by the thousands to road sludge. Blood ran in rivulets. Same as now. At their ascent, the Titans had given the city a new name. The shaking priest wondered in his bald head what the Continent's glorious capital would be called after this one. He thought in grim humor, "perhaps, if we survive this day, this city shall just be named Badluck County."

Of the horrors waiting outside, next to Lucifer was Lord Asmodeus Lustfyre. Rafel's second uncle rode on the [Crimson Countess] of Hel's harshest Circle, Behemoth.

Sat on their Titans, these Underworld gods led the charge of one hundred and forty thousand demon troops.

One hundred and forty fucking thousand!

Rafel knew because Peitho counted and told him.

[Ding!]

[140 000, do I count, my Lord.]

Rafel himself counted nine Principalities—one for each [Infernal Circle]. They led great companies of Hel's hordes. He spied Abaddon and Herxha, Gäl and Kraxus. Belbys. Ba'al. Ashtoreth [Okavango]. Doomsdei and Scorpus, and Irajj. And plenty other [S-rank] evil bastards. He really wondered for the wellbeing of his army now. The centuries of Hellion military surrounded them roundabout, like a new black wall of living, fire-breathing fury.

And while the devils might not have the yearn for emancipation as the Rebellion Army, those fuckers did have experience. These smelly uggos had being fighting wars with angels and Dominions since before the Badlands were a thing.

"Fuck."

Rafel didn't know he said it out loud until his aunt chimed from his side.

"Yes, fuck. You get it now, don't ya? You're fucked."

She laughed right in Cora's face and the girl almost pressed on the trigger. "Ha! You're all fucked. But not you, my darling boy. No. You... you are safe. I'd never let any of them hurt a red lock on your head. Besides that, you're one of us. . ."

Rafel stopped listening. He zoned out Lilith's too-sweet voice. It boggled his mind how a bitch that crazy had such hypnotic syllables. When Lilith said something, it was like someone was pouring honey into a porcelain. Her accent had no earthly nativity. See, that part actually made sense.

Lilith was the first female 'anything' on earth. She made all the accents.

"It's always the crazy bitches, innit?" Admittedly, he mused, the [Yandere] soul of his aunt was what had him so hooked. Plus, a crazy bitch's a great fuck. Any dude will tell you that!

But traits of his auntie aside, now he got it. When she'd said 'family' initially he did not understand. But now, now he got it.

It was his family, literally out there.

Would I ever escape these hideous lot? This club of trainwrecks? His mind spun. People would think their deities should be sane. Pfft! My uncles are huge, classed-up arses. They are my curse, I guess.

He looked again to the siege of demon heads in the distance: Orcs on dragons.

Hunchback ogres.

Dwarf [minions] riding wyverns.

Ghostriders—flaming skull [Skeletors].

Gorgon sisters on Hydras. Maulers and Bonereaver clans in scores. Tormentor devils, huge as fucking tanks. [Hun] tyrants who'd traded their souls for power, resurrected into the ranks. Stone gargoyles animated by occult [arcane crystals] glued to their foreheads. Rotting zombies remoted to the fight by talismans. Mutúk mammoths. Minotaurs. Horse-faced Slavers. [Wrathful Soul] Wraiths. Pig-headed Dungeon-masters... all of Hel's Hierarchy.

All under the rippling banners of Morningstar: the Blood Pentagon. One hundred and forty thousand born killers led in front by the devil himself?

Rafel did not know if the Rebellion Army had the chance of victory in a billion probabilities.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

[I guess we'll have to find out, my Lord.]

Peitho did whisper to her Host.

'I guess so,' Rafel responded.

Then he blinked to focus his mind. He charged his harem with this command. "Stay here." Catching his firebird's green eyes, he added, "Ravenna, I mean it. Stay here, please. The devils won't charge the castle. Their mistress abides in it." His reddish brows fanned in. "I'll head down to lead our ranks." As Corazón and Aya nodded, he turned to glare at his Aunt. "If she moves, pull the trigger."

Lilith merely smiled.

Rafel was gone the next second; he wasn't waiting for her to say some sly shit. His nimble legs sped him to the window and he jumped off it in free fall. [Umber Wings] erupted from his back in a gust of cold air. The ashen feathers expanded and broke his plunge. Rafel made a sweet landing on the east grounds of the dark castle. Ignoring the splotches of human brain matter excavated by mongrel dogs from the heads of fallen soldiers, he folded in his wings and started running for the cobble streets.

It didn't matter what side of the war you fought on. If you fell, you became a feast for crows, and red supper for worms.

Rafel heard Lilith's high laughter ring down from the tops of the castle eaves. Her voice followed his pounding footsteps rushing away for the standing armies. "You can't save your precious humans! But it'll be fun to watch them all die before your eyes."

Rafel reached the [red zone] of the fight, bloodiest damn corner of the city. As he ran through the blue formations of the Iron Force, he spied some Oni Samurais passing helmed heads of Blackguards to heap at the foot of a Morningstar banner. Someone had also set the flag on fire. The blaze torched the evening. On the hot wind, Rafel smelled roasting flesh. And he tasted blood and bile in his mouth, at the same time.

He reached the center of the formations and found that Khalifa had gathered the scattered forces at his absence. She introduced the present scenario of combat to him as he approached.

"Sire," she gave a quick bow. "I've pulled out ranks from the edges of the city to this part. Our host is now cut into sections. Our heaviest defense, the Iron Force is at southward bend. They stand with the battlements and cannons. The archers, shield bearers and sharpshooters make the front march. I am of the opinion to make our stand here, inside the city. We wait for them to make the first charge.

The Principalities might not care, but a few dumb ogres in their host have sired halfling children of the human women here. I doubt they be quick to send their dragons hurling fire or acid from the sky. So we use that to our advantage."

"Nice work, Scarred One." Rafel petted a brown stallion which a squire rolled by. It was a huge one.

Khalifa would've blushed at his compliment, but war had made her cheeks cold.

Rafel told her as the squire fitted his hamstrings and ensured his [Resurrection Amulet] was well-fused into his armor. "They outnumber us seven to one. What is your plan for that?"

He had quickly elevated Khalifa to rank of First Company Lieutenant. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but wise, because she quickly dished out an excellent idea. "My strategy is to use our skilled attack ranks, Sire. As I said earlier, we let them make the charge and take the brunt of our arrows and cannons. It won't matter if they're devils. Our High Magus, Damnameneus has spelled all our arsenals and machines. We burn and poison as many as we can."

Rafel nodded as he wore his helmet and fastened it, the plume radiant in the orange sunset.

"Well, you heard your Lieutenant!" He roared to the formations. And he easily hopped the saddle.

He stretched out [WorldGobbler], his great axe and pierced the nightfall with a voice that left thunder crashing in the skies overhead.

"FOR REVOLUTION!!!"

"YAAAHHHHHHH!" the roar of thousands men and iron-hearted women split the biting gales with fast lightning. Feeling electricity prick the golden hairs on his forearms, Rafel looked out clear across the rubble of the city's fallen walls, and met his uncle's hellish red eyes; those eyes that had looked on the face of God—and then darkness forever.

"Your move, Lucifer."

"MINIONS OF HEL! CHARGE!!!" the cry, as it burst from the lips of the Archdemon froze the fat crows circling overhead. All at once, the blue in the skies faded to crimson and ash.