Amidst the Howling Dark

"This is their nearest village, High Lord. A rather miserable hamlet. A logging village, I believe. We stand ready" Tolmirak said to De'mah as the two stood on a small hill overlooking the said village. It was a small affair, not much more than twenty houses, plus a sawmill on the bank of a modest river. It was barely worth mentioning, but it would be a start.

"We will go, the two of us. Have the assembled dragons encircle the village, but to let a few of their kind leave, so that they may spread the word" De'mah said, and Tolmirak nodded and scurried off. He returned quickly, and the two of them stepped forward.

It'd been a few days since Jilnarok's defeat, and De'mah had spent those days learning of the Equestrians. He studied their culture, their history, and their anatomy. They were puny things, an average specimen barely high enough to be eye level with De'mah's waist, but they had more variety to their kind than the dragons. Some of their kind could fly, same as the dragons, and some could even wield what was termed 'magic', some manner of corporeal energy that allowed them to manipulate the world. The last of their kind could do neither. An unremarkable race, an unremarkable species.

De'mah and Tolmirak entered the village just as half a dozen dragons began to near, circling overhead. A few of them came down and landed around the perimeter of the village. A mild commotion began to build at the sudden arrival, but none yet dared to run. The sawmill was the largest building in the village, and so De'mah approached it. A few of the Equestrians, 'ponies' as they called themselves, had assembled there, unease painted across their small faces.

"Find me your leader!" De'mah barked. "This village is now under the control of De'mah 'Tokam and the mighty dragons."

"S-Sir, I am the leader of this hamlet. S-surely we can come to some manner of understanding? I can't imagine what your mighty dragons would want with our...modest life" the small pony, in the center of his two compatriots, said. His coat was a cream color, and there was some kind of tattoo on his flank. A 'cutie mark', De'mah was led to believe.

"There will be no understanding beyond what we demand. There will be no negotiation."

"S-sir, we have guards here. They won't agree to this. Come, let us talk" the village leader said, and De'mah looked over his shoulder. Sure enough a small assembly of 'guards' had arrived and were standing, spears ready, at the base of the ramp to the sawmill. Their 'armor' was hardly more than chain tunics. Pitiful.

De'mah turned, approached the guards, and ignited his energy sword. At once they darted forward, steel spear tips glancing harmlessly off De'mah's suit. He swung his sword up, the blade lancing up the chest and through the head of one. He fell to the ground with his head split in two. The remaining guards swarmed him, and De'mah lashed out. His sword flashed through the neck of one, decapitating him. Another rose onto his hindlegs and tried to spear De'mah, and the Sangheili stabbed the small creature through the stomach. A light blow hit him from behind and De'mah spun, his blade slashing across the back of the pony that had struck him, severing his spine and killing him. The last guard backed away slowly, and before he could run De'mah was on him. The Sangheili bent one knee and crouched as he lunged forward, and he sank his blade into the pony's chest. He dropped his spear and as De'mah drew his sword out the pony's corpse fell to the dirt.

With one last slow look around De'mah took count of the five 'guard' ponies he'd killed before he looked back up the ramp to the sawmill at the village leader, who looked stricken and horrified at the gruesome display before him. De'mah silenced his blade and ascended the ramp once more, taking heavy, plodding steps.

"W-w-w-we accept th-the terms o-of your oc-occup-pation..." the village leader said, and De'mah grinned wickedly.

"A wise decision."