He had descended from beyond the stars with a tide of chaos at his back and monsters at his heels--madness and seething shadow given form. Those that managed to survive the initial wave of terror and insanity his arrival had brought, and the string of riots and looting it had caused, had either fallen to worship him as a herald of the end-times or looked to their king and his armies for salvation. The greatest mages and warriors in the land had moved against him and his followers, desperate to beat back the old god from their doorstep.<br/><br/>The tiefling woman had been one of those warriors once. The scimitar she carried at her hip and the battle scars marking her flesh attested to that. Fiercely loyal to king and country, and a staunch protector of her people, she had been one of many sent to fight against Dradiro and his cultists. Perhaps knighthood was a strange profession for one with demon blood in her ancestry, but she had never been one for respecting tradition. When the monsters' forces had encroached upon the borders of<i>her</i>kingdom, threatening<i>her</i>land,<i>her</i>people,<i>her  home</i>, she had been at the head of the charge to fight him off.<br/><br/>But it had all been for naught. The king was gone, her comrades either dead, scattered, or imprisoned, and Dradiro lounged upon a throne he had no right to. He had claimed godhood, and while his abilities and following certainly supported that claim, there were still those who chose to resist, rejecting the new ruler and his cult. Some were executed or imprisoned, but the rest fled, existing at the fringes of the world and eking out a living in the wilderness until rumors began to spread of a brewing rebellion, led by a former knight of the old order.<br/><br/>Maybe you couldn't kill a god, but when they decided to tarry on the mortal planes, they opened themselves up to<i>other</i>forms of weakness. If worship lent Dradiro strength, then Aryel and her followers would make it their duty in life to sap him dry.<br/><br/>The camp was ablaze with light from lanterns and cook-fires tonight, hidden deep within the tangled greenwoods far to the west. Music, shouts, and laughter filled the air, along with the mouth-watering scents of spiced, roasting meat and all manner of other foods. At the center of the maze of tents and tree-houses was a circle of caravan wagons, all stuffed to the gills with treasure, armor, weapons, and other valuables. What would have been tribute to the new god-king was now property of a small but quickly-growing resistance, and they were taking the time to celebrate their good fortune with feasting and merriment.<br/><br/>Tables laden with food and drink surrounded the captured wagons, seating a couple hundred humanoids of various races, all laughing and talking among themselves as they enjoyed their spoils. When a form at one of the tables stood, however, her dark-feathered wings flaring out in a silent call for attention, they quieted, looking to their leader expectantly.<br/><br/>At a glance, Aryel was not the most imposing commander out there. Not even the raked-back oryx horns erupting from her skull, or the blue-black wings at her back, both marks of her inhuman ancestry, served to make her very intimidating. She was neither particularly tall nor heavily-muscled, but there was nevertheless a fierce sort of energy about her, like a raging bonfire just barely held in check, and under her olive skin were toned muscles, particularly about her arms and shoulders--she was just as skilled with her fists as she was her scimitar. Long black hair, braided back, framed a deceptively-fine-featured face set with a pair of flinty blue eyes, eyes that now shone with triumph as she looked about at her followers, a grin on her face.<b>"I'd like to propose a toast," </b>she began, holding her tankard of exotic stolen wine aloft as her voice rang out.<b>"First, to you all, my friends and allies, without whom none of this would be possible." </b><br/><br/>Cheers rang out, along with more raised cups.<b> "Some say Aetus fell with the disappearance of our king."</b>she continued,<b> "Some say we're a land lost to chaos, with no hope of freedom. But so long as <i>we</i> hold our ground against the usurper and his hordes, as long as <i>we</i> defy him with every breath in our body, then the spirit of Aetus will never truly die, and <i>it will rise again!"</i></b><br/><br/>A thunderous roar filled the clearing as a hundred voices were raised in unison, fists beating upon tables like a cacophony of war drums. Her heart swelling with pride, Aryel waited for the cheers to die down before continuing her toast.<b>"Second, a toast to the so-called 'guards' of this caravan, whose <i>courage and loyalty</i> to their false god allowed us to take these spoils so easily."</b>This time, the cheers carried a distinct jeering note to them, shot through with derisive laughter. The caravan guards had been arrogant to take a route so close to the deep forests, believing that their military might would be enough to protect them from a few rebel brigands. Three days and nights of near-constant hit-and-run attacks had been enough to whittle down that supposed might, until they were defeated in a final ambush at the eaves of the forest. The survivors of the raid had been sent fleeing back to their dark master in the fallen capital, leaving behind the wagons and pack animals laden with supplies and tribute.<br/><br/><b>"And finally," </b>she went on,<b>"to the bastard god himself--" </b>Aryel paused at the upwelling of boos and hisses, a devilish grin on her face.<b>"Now now, it's only polite that we include him--we're <i>civilized</i>, after all. To the bastard god himself, who <i>oh so graciously</i> sent these spoils our way," </b>The vicious cheers returned, her sarcasm coming through loud and clear,<b>"May his reign be fruitful--for <i>us--</i>and short--for <i>him--</i>and may he <i>burn in the pits of Hell</i> for daring to think he could bring us to heel!"<br/>
</b><br/><i>"To the bastard god!" </i>came the echo from a hundred throats, mockery and defiance ringing out. Aryel returned to her seat amidst the cheers, a fierce warmth welling in her chest. Perhaps Aetus wasn't her birthplace, but it was her home, and she would fight to her last breath to defend it--a sentiment she knew was shared among her comrades.