Little did the other knights notice, was one of their own also slinking back into the shadows and vanishing, silently as if they were a part of the darkness itself.<br/><br/>*****<br/><br/>Roarke couldn't tell where it was he landed- or what he landed on. The slab of stone the dais's were on must have been higher than he anticipated, for the moving darkness beneath him stretched on forever. At least, that's the illusion presented to him. Where was this place? Where had the encampment gone? It had been a large open plane that had stretched for miles, as the army he was contracted to was on their way to the Winterburg Castle in  Estraste. He hadn't kept up with the politics as closely as most did (he was a work for hire after all), but from the snippets of conversation he's managed to hear the bastard Earl had been building up a significant force of his own. There was tension between him and some of the other lords at court; he was amassing too much power and was starting to get cocky about it.<br/>The Prince had ordered for his arrest some weeks ago for some bullshit treason or another, but the little rat decided to hole up in his castle instead. He figured he could wait it out until the royals got tired and turned down the heat. Roarke hadn't care either way, money was money and he needed more of it to keep himself suited and fed.<br/><br/>Now, he highly suspected, what remained of the army and all the traveling inhabitants were at the mercy of monsters. With a sudden thud, his fall was broken by a large muscly mass, taller than any man or beast he's seen. It's form was bulky, slightly terracotta in colour blotched with grey, as if someone had splattered mud on an old rusty blade. His body bounced off of it from the impact and he fell to solid ground at last, only to notice a very human arm sticking out of some gaping jaws. Was that the son of the cook's hand? He had flirted with the lad two nights past, and had taken him into an empty tent to put those rough hands to better use than serving stew. From the familiar red colour liquid dripping down from a mouth of very sharp teeth, a severed hand was the least of the boy's worries. Most likely he had nothing to worry about now.<br/><br/>His pale eyes widened when the creature turned towards him, obviously disrupted from his meal. And was not one iota pleased about it. Thankful for his fast reflexes, Roarke managed to dodge a bloody hand that reached for him. By the noise that hand made when its meaty fingers tightly squeezed its palm, he had missed his whole body being crushed to dust. The ground beneath his feet was slick, and he slipped a few times trying to raise himself to his needs to make a run for it, only to fall back into a puddle thick like mud. The liquid clung to him and smelled coppery with a hint of sulfur, similar to a blacksmith's tent. His eyes turned behind him, and despite the macabre he was used to on the battlefield, the sight made him want to hurl what was left in his stomach.<br/><br/>He wasn't safe yet, no, for there were many more twisted beings partaking in a humanly feast. Carcasses piled around them, chests burst open, ribs extruding, and various body parts tossed around. A rope of intestines slapped on the ground next to him, making the liquid splatter across his face. Now he noticed two things: he was naked, no stitch of clothing on him and unarmed, as well as the ground was covered in blood. He was knee deep in it.<br/><br/>Hearing his name in the distance gave him a start, and those luring words did nothing to ease his heightened flight instincts. Who knew his name and called it out with such familiarity? He didn't want to wait around to find out.<br/><br/>So he ran.<br/><br/>Running proved to be difficult, apparently. Not only was the ground unstable (mutilated bodies notwithstanding) , but he had to maneuver around what he could only determine were demons. Was he in hell? This must be hell. But he doesn't remember dying, or what could have brought him here. Or any of the others, really, for surely if this was his afterlife nightmare not all the rest would share in that fate with him.<br/><br/>There had to be a way out, no matter what that purring voice said. He would find it, by any means necessary-<br/><br/>"HELP! HELP ME PLEASE!!"<br/><br/>Roarke stopped in his tracks at the sound of human words. he turned, seeing a knight backing up from a stalking six-armed demon into a protruding rock side. His sword was shattered, yet he continued to hold the hilt and remaining blade in fear, pointing it at the salivating creature. Another he saw was hiding around it, crawling across the top and readying to pounce. "BACK! Back you devils from the spawn of hell! By the faith of my Lord, I am protected!"<br/><br/>The six armed demon chuckled, "Isn't that precious. Your God can't help you here. I wonder if your armour will make you taste better when roasted in it?"<br/><br/>"GET BACK!!" the knight locked eyes with Roark, pleading. "Fellow soldier, assist me!!"<br/><br/>Roarke considered the outcome, and found the odds of either of them surviving marginally low. Besides...he hated being ordered around. especially form snooty nights. "You're on your own." he muttered and returned to fleeing, just as the second demon fell upon the knight.<br/><br/>More scenarios like such occurred as he passed them, people begging for help, some already long gone while others soon after. Roarke stopped for none; if they clung onto him, he pushed them off and continued on. He owed his allegiance to no one, nor was he willing to risk his own neck for dead-weights. At least he managed to find a still intact sword, the familiar feel of it's weight in his hands giving him courage. It gave him an advantage, as he recalls cutting a hand or two off of him when a demon got too close.<br/><br/>He had a sinking feeling though that some were avoiding him on purpose....but he didn't stop to figure out why.<br/><br/>"Roarke!<i>Balam!</i>"<br/><br/>A shot of sensation traveled down his spine at that name. It wasn't his own, but it gave him a surge in....pleasure? Familiarity? It made the mark on his forehead throb and burn anew, reacting to it like iron to hot coal. What was wrong with him? He was panting, out of breath from his running, heart thrumming hard against his chest, but he hadn't ran very far. Had he? The darkened horizon with the red sun felt forever out of reach, unmoving as if time stood still. Was there an edge in this hell? Or was he destined to keep running forever? Exhausted, the mercenary fell to his knees, the will to keep on beginning to drain out of him. Hopelessness set it, and even when he felt a shadow creeping behind him, he remained unmoved. This was his last stand, may as well face the threat head on instead of cowering.<br/><br/>He felt hot breath at the back of his neck....and he gripped the holt tighter....one strike would cut through that neck like butter-<br/><br/>There was a gurgle in his ear, then a thump as a demon's body fell to the ground beside him. Swiftly he turned around, coming face to face with....another demon?<br/><br/>"Human. I expected more from you..considering Balam chose your body for his own. How pathetic." the voice was slithery, sweet, masculine but feminine at the same time. It's body was ambiguous, not clearly defined as a man or woman, but there was no mistaking the roiling power beneath their armour. A large bow the size of the length of their body was at their side, and Roarke could see a twisted arrow protruding from the fallen demon's skull.<br/>"This is so disappointing....and after I laid such careful plans to be sure you woke before the ritual as complete. What in all seven hells did Balam see in you?" the being scrutinized him for a moment, "...aside from your physique, obviously. Can't fault him in that choice."<br/><br/>Roarke slowly turned, facing them fully...but knew without his armour or shield he would be helpless against a melee attack. Especially one as skilled who could aim a death blow so perfectly. He was impressed, despite himself. Admiring or not though, he raised his sword to a fighting stance.<br/><br/>"Hmph. But that useless thing away, human. I'm not here to kill you." Casually, the demon walked up beside him, looking at the far horizon. "I don't want you to fall just yet. No....I'm making this whole situation a lot more...amusing."<br/><br/>"Amusing....how?" Roark asked carefully, not lowering his blade.<br/><br/>The demon, with reflexes faster than the mercenary could follow, shot an arrow into the distance. A blinding red light show out, and Roarke had to shield his eyes. The light was as bright as the sun, shinning into the darkness and making any remaining demons nearby scuttle away in fear.<br/>"What....is this?"<br/><br/>"Your way out. To the human world." a hint of a smile was in that voice. "I don't feel like answering your mortal curiosity. The portal won't stay open for long, so I suggest you take this favour bestowed on you. Unless you'd RATHER be ravished, of course."<br/><br/>He didn't need to be told twice, and with time being of the essence, dropped that sword and dashed through the portal as fast as his legs could carry him. When he felt the warm grass beneath his feet, and saw he was standing in the field again, he let himself collapse.<br/><br/>****<br/><br/>The personification of envy floated there, motionless, watching the portal close ever so slowly. The grin never left their face, awaiting for Asteroth to join them there. They couldn't wait to see his face.