The God of Sleep Has Made His House

My sword is dripping red.

Drops of life essence fall from it's tip, forming a crimson puddle on the floor.

I feel sweat drip from my forehead and mingle with the blood below me.

My head turns from side to side, taking in the carnage around me.

The gore that was washed from me from the rain outside now adorns my body once again. I can taste it in my mouth. I can smell it upon my body.

Everything seemed like a blur when I burst through the keep's doors. It always seems like a blur when knife work needs doing.

The door splintered from the force of my kick, alerting the bandits that lay strewn all across the room. There was no time to look about and observe. No time to count them all. Kill mode was activated, and I was going to make sure I destroyed everyone of these traitors to the Crown and it's people.

My blade flashed like starlight, catching the reflected illumination from the candles and hearth fire.

The cold steel of my deadly tool found it's marks.

The war cries and screams of agony began.

The first one to cross me got it quick. A swift upper jab with my sword had him grasping the gaping hole in his neck with his talons while he fell to the ground, a sick gurgling sound escaping his beak.

"FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, KILL HIM!!!" a bandit shouted, before a swing from my sword silenced his voice. His head toppled to the ground, followed closely by his body.

I swung my sword left and right, parrying, cutting, maiming, mutilating.

An arm, here, a leg, there. It didn't matter.The body parts varied, but the color was always the same.

Red.

I felt my face twist into a venomous snarl.

"YOUR GODS?!" I shouted, "HERE DIE YOUR GODS!"

Sparks from blade clashing against blade and armor dance around, like little stars that have touched our earthly plain.

The room goes quiet.

I lowered my sword, taking in deep, heavy breaths. The world seemed to return to a state of normality, once again, as I stop to look about all that had transpired.

Shit, what a mess.

This dance of death had taken place in the main entrance hall, lined with many rows of oak tables and chairs, where the soldiers and other personnel who had once occupied this fort would have sat and feasted. Typical Griffin culture that the first room that you would enter into would be the feasting hall. By the looks of this place, the current bandit occupants had gorged themselves until late in the night, before deciding to call the tables and floor their beds for the evening.

I count the bodies on the floor. Nine. There were only nine bandits that I had fought. No reinforcements came as well. They would have heard the fighting (we were quite loud).  That was too sketchy. Something wasn't adding up.

Oh well. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

It's at that that moment when a peculiar smell reaches my nose. Cooked flesh.

I looked towards the center of the main table, to see what the dish they had indulged themselves on.

And for once in a long time, I was disturbed by what I saw.

On the center of the table lay two half eaten ponies. One mare, and one stallion. Pained expressions adorn their cold, lifeless faces. Most of their lower bodies, as well as bits and pieces of their chests, were consumed. I walked up to the large table to get a closer examination of the disfigured cadavers. Two bloody stumps on both of their backs were clearly from wings. They were skyward Pegasi once, who had the love of the firmament in their hearts . Now they were earthbound corpses. Matted fur under their eyes showed that they were crying profusely.

They were cooked and eaten alive.

Whatever their lovely coat and mane colors had been were pitch black and charred, as well as stained with the ever present color of red.

Thunder booms, lightning flashes, illuminating the corpses for the briefest of seconds.

There were clear signs of torture on their bodies.

Oh God, I can feel the anger rising in me.

These two poor souls will be avenged. I fucking swear it.

I can hear the buzzing of flies.

And a groan.

I look towards my feel. One of the bandits is still alive.

That funny, blurry feeling begins to take over me, again.

I lifted my booted foot up, and brought it down as hard as I could

An exasperated moan of pain comes from the bandit. I repeated my action again and again and again, each time my strikes becoming harder, and harder, and HARDER!!!!

I heard a final whisper from the bandit as the circle of death claimed him.

I spat on his corpse.

"Burn in Hell, you fucking animals." I said to the beasts at my feet.

The corpses of the two Equines catch my attention again.

I"ll come back after this is done and bury them I thought. It's the least I could do.

Abinchova will die. The respect I had for him frittered away like dust in the breeze.

He wanted to act like an animal, he would die like an animal. I sheathed my blood covered sword, and instead, brought forth another weapon. A relic from another world. My home world. A weapon unlike any other in these lands. I don't remember where I got this instrument of destruction. I just had it when I appeared in this world. But it was such a little thing, that was barely big enough to fit in my hand, yet could kill so many, so fast. At least until it ran out of ammunition.

I smile, inwardly. I was going to blow his brains out, like one would to a rabid dog.

Pulling the hammer back on the my little friend, I turned to find the stairs leading up to the tower,

Yet, just as I was about ascend, another noise caught my attention.

It wasn't the pitter patter of rain, nor the sound of thunder.

They were muffled cries and shrieks, panic and fear clearly in them.

There were prisoners that were still alive!

Burning with a new resolve, I rushed up the stairs, no longer caring about the lack of guards, the lack of movements.

There were lives that I could save if I just hurried the fuck up!

I dashed as fast as I could up the stairs. I didn't care if Abinchova heard me coming, I could kill him and any of his lackeys in an instant with this baby. Subtly was out. Saving was in.

Adrenaline pumped through my body. I began to sweat again. My hair was in my face, but I didn't care.

I heard shuffling and muffled whimpers behind the door in front of me. This was it. Now or never.

Steeling myself, I arched my arm and shoulder forward, my metal armor connecting with the door, bursting it open.

The room is dark now, the candles and fireplace are out, the only light is moonlight, whose rays have pierced through the clouds from the large window several feet in front of me. A griffin is in front of me as well, his back to my front, his fore paws resting on the window edge, a cloak around his body. He was too small. This wasn't Abinchova.

"I had a feeling they'd send you, of all creatures."

The griffin spoke to me in calm, melancholic voice. I hear ruffling to my left. I manage a quick glance, spying the source of the sounds from earlier. On a bed near the end of the room were another pair of ponies, one a grown mare, with a rainbow mane and a cyan blue coat, the other, a filly, no more the six, with cream colored coat and a turquoise mane. Both had their forelegs bound behind their backs, as well as their back hooves bound together, and a large cloth tied around both of their muzzles. Their muffled cries stopped, as they stared at me, their eyes wide with fear and awe. The little looked as if she were to cry again. I turn my attention back to the griffin in front of me.

He had turned around, facing me now. His face bore sad features.

He knew there was no way out of this alive for him.

"The King always sends his little lap dog to his dirty work. You know, when I fir-"

BANG!

I cut him off mid sentence with a blast from weapon.

The griffin let out a cry of pain, clutching his now profusely bleeding gut.

I walk over to him, slowly, as if I'm stalking wild game.

"A-ug-h..You...son of a bi-"

He's cut off again from another blast of my gun. Blood ricochets from his body onto the floor.

I lift my boot up and place upon his chest, pressing down sharply.

"Where is Abinchova?" I asked.

The griffin grunted, but didn't say anything.

I raised my hand, and shot again, hitting him in the shoulder. The griffin screamed.

"I'll ask again, where is Abinchova?"

"Y-you ha-haven't figured i-it out yet? H-he....he's g-g-gone....We..were...j-just a d-d-distraction. A ruse."

A wheezing laugh escapes his voice, which later becomes a moan of pain.

He's gone. That explains the lack of bandits. He left a few here to cover his tracks while he fled. Our Intel was off.

Goddammit.

"Then you are of no use to me. You and your lot tortured and murdered....and feasted on two Equines. They were innocent-"

"WE WERE STARVING!" I was cut off by the griffin this time.

"WE HAD NO CHOICE! WE CAUGHT THEM WITH THE LAST RAID, WE WERE OUT OF FOOD. ABINCHOVA AND THE REST TOOK THE LAST OF THE SUPPLIES!! WHAT WERE WE SUPPOSE TO DO!?!"

"What about the filly and the mare on the bed. Were they next?"

The filly had buried her face into the cyan mares chest, whimpering, while the mare stared at the sight before her.

"..........."

"WERE THEY NEXT!?!"

The griffin only stared up at me, a manic smile upon his beak. I put the gun barrel between his eyes.

"You won't die by my sword, in honor. You'll die like the beast you are; nameless, left to rot on this cold, stone floor. Hell awaits you."

"I'll see you there," he muttered to me, his eyes closing.

Thunder booms, lightning flashes.

So does the barrel of my gun.