PROLOGUE
Caliban strode out across a battleground which had, only hours before, been the scene of a terrible encounter between his forces and those of the now defeated demon lord Orfus. The dead and dying lay all around and he stepped over them, keen to find his general for an assessment of the cost of the battle.
Demon blood had almost clogged up the intricate workings of the vampire's prosthetic hand, and he quickly flexed the bladed fingers as he walked, trying to work the congealed black gore out of his joints. He spotted his general, Tirek, talking to a maug demon in the centre of the battlefield, and turned to make his way towards them. A demon at his feet wearing the colours of his erstwhile enemy, groaned loudly. Withought breaking stride Caliban swung the heavy mace which hung from a strap on his wist and brought the weapon down on the creature's head. It was an act of mercy - most of the surviving captives were at this very moment being tortured back at Caliban's encampment. The vampire considered this for a moment and put it down to the good mood that the victory had put him in.
"My lord,"Tirek said, bowing her head at the sight of his master.
"I congratulate you on your victory, Tirek. Your forces fought with a ferocity and cruelty that was satisfying to watch."
The younger demon vampire smiled, nodding towards the mace and the blood which covered Caliban's clothes and hands.
"It would appear that my lord was not satisfied with merely watching."
Caliban looked down at the weapon and then back at his general. "I never was very good at delegating these matters. Beside, why should i miss out on all the gun?"
Tirek smiled and shook her head.
"What are our losses?" Caliban asked, staing out at the sea of dead.
