A few things: This story is originally written by me in German. I’m translating it into english as soon as one part is done. However, much to my distaste, some facets are lost in the translation. In addition, I’m not really that good in writing in English, so feel free to correct anything or suggest better choice of words.
Here’s what I have so far:
Looking back in history can only teach us one thing: peace and freedom, luck and wealth can never be created without external enemy. We all need something that we can outcast, or we will create artificial borders between ourselves. I have to remember our history with hard feelings: the forming of the first Empire after the era of pillages was cheered by everyone involved. But already 20 years later, the empire fell due to unhappy rebels that pretended to fight against the tyranny, but only had their own interests in mind. Especially those, that summoned the demons first, pretended to fight for humanity.
— Imperial Senate, 751 NT
I do not know if I even will forget that horror. We were so sure to do the right thing, but maybe everything was a lie? I don’t know and don’t want to know. There were eight of us who wanted to close the demon gate after the rebels opened it 2 years before. The warriors that accompagnied us had to fight against myriads of natural and unnatural creatures, until we reached the stonebuilding, which symbolised the gateway between our two worlds. The incarnation of the banishment spell needed 3 hours. 3 hours, we had to watch how our fellows were killed one after the other by their enemies. Snakelike pressed the air out of them, birlike picked and scratched deep wounds, Swortdemons caused them uncurable wounds and robewearing ones fought with the magic of the dead. Nonetheless, I couldn’t oversee that they didn’t seem to want what they did. Rebels and Empire both called the demons to fight on their side, but did they ever ask themselves, what they called and how they forced it into their service?
At least it is over. I don’t really want to be able to remember more. I just want to forget. I want to forget the tortured faces of humans and demons. And still I know that no sleep will give me peace, no potion will allow me to forget. Maybe not even death will be able to give me peace. I can only hope and pray to the gods.
— From the scripts of the archmagus from Tiefwaldern shortly before his death, 679 NT
I command you to a duel, Masked Mage! The one of us who is able to do the mightier in one month will be the one to own the artefact. I choose the summoning of a demon. As you know, the door to them is closed. That means it needs true masters of magic to summon one of them to our world. Be prepared!
— Letter by the magician Therelin from Himmelsbrück, 763 NT
The events start in 763 NT.
—Intro—
The sun hung red and spooky over the old ruins. Only a wave of wind that came from the ocean, could bring a bit of relief to the breathing in this air smelling like sulphur. Little did it matter to the people in the ruins. The man bound on the altar had other worries than his breathing. And the demons that stood in front of him reciting ancient incarnations in an almost forgotten language actually liked the sulphur-smell. That is, if he actually had the time to concentrate on it. But as things were now, he only had enough energy to finish the ceremony. Because it was important. More important than what his being was.
Suddenly, she appeared, the warrior. Only half a head smaller than the demon, wearing an old leather armor, with an added dark cape. Her shoulderlong red hair hang down sweating wet from her head. She was breathing heavily, her golden eyes narrowly focused on the back of the demon, who hadn’t realized she was here or didn’t care. Obviously, she had run here. In her right hand, she was wearing the old family blade, that had seen more battle than she was years old. “Creature”, her shout was heard all over the ruin field, “I have come to put an end to you! Face the combat!” The addressed stopped his incarnation and stood up completely. Without wings and with lighter skin, he would have passed as human. Maybe an old warrior, hero of many battles. But right now, he was only the embodiment of the phrase that demons are the dark brothers of humans.
“Ah, the heroine appears to kill the beast and restore peace”, he answered with a slight laughter and it was as if a child and an old man had spoken at the same time. “No more games! Surrdender to the challenge!” screamed the challenger, slowly moving towards the altar. “Ah, I see. The heroine is here to save her brother, who’s innocently lieing here on the sacrification stone. How nobel. How useless.” Abruptly he turned around, his right hand raised. A few syllabuses escaped his lips, so fast that almost no human would have been able to see them. The effect of those syllabuses took place faster: a beam of darkest energy shot out of his right hand, aiming at the warrior. With shock-widened eyes, the warrior recognized the doom in the last second, she jumped aside just in time. A short blick out of the corners of her eyes showed her that this dark demon magic turned the soil around and burnt it - earth there was as dead as she could have been. Without a second thought, she threw herself forward, the family sword risen, to bring down the stranger, the alien, the demon once and for all. She hit him with as much power as she could, again and again. Her first strike hit the demon at his arm, the second in the middle of his torso. During the third strike, the sword, the heirloom of the family’s tradition, broke. The demon began to laugh, seeing that he was barely more than scratched. With a rough sulk, the warrior sank down to the bottom, hermind as broken as her sword. She failed. Her brother was lost, she was lost. There was no hope left.
“Sssstop it!” a voice was heard from beyond the ruins, “T’Nari, the elder wantsss to ssse you!” With a sigh, the warrior stood up again and look at the caller. Of course, Serena, the youngest of the snakebodied Agayprs, highest cleric of the three demon goddesses and equipped with way too much no-nonsense loyality. “Do you really have to stop a theater-testplay? We would have been finished soon anyway!” she shouted back, dropping the leftover of the sword. “Yesss, I had to! You have way too much fun playing humansss, T’Nari! Never forget what they did to ussss!” The warrior sighed again and turned around to her theater-partner. He nodded silently, as if he was saying: “You can’t change it anyway.” T’Nari shook her head and followed the Snakelike back into the village.
They followed the old street that had been created a long, long time ago by many hands for a while. After the fall of the old empires, no one that could keep them intact was found, so that they were engulfed by the landscape more and more. Especially during sunsets, when they are dumped into the unreality of the beginning night, those relics of passed times would have been a popular motive along artists. But if you have to fight for your daily survival, then art and also the theater play is less than just a minor thing. That way, T’Nary and her collegues were more than just the black sheep of the community - they were almost a new elite. Many of the oldest that experienced the human wars hated them for that. T’Nary wasn’t sure herself if the elder was among them. So far, he hadn’t put any stones in their way. On the other hand… one word of his would be enough to cease the acting once and for all. And then…
At this moment, Serena stopped abruptly, so that T’Nary bumped in her while being elsewhere and totally unprepared, something that doesn’t bode well for pondering about things. The cleric hissed, while T’Nary tried to apologize with many words. “Forget it, it isss unimportant, childe!” she hissed, while her tail began pendling back and forth, “but what is much more worssse, do you really want to ssstand before the elder like that?” An irritated gaze answered her, until the tragedist realized, that she still looked like a human. Another apology followed immediatly, that Serena refused with a short gesture of her hand. “Care more about looking more worthy, not like one of thossse ratsss.” “I understand, of course”, answered T’Nary and prepared herself for a transformtion.
The Changers are of one the oldest surviving demon races. They can choose and change their form almost as they wish. However, every change is painful for them - transforming bones, flesh and skin within minutes is everything but comfortable or a simple task for their bodies. That’s why they mostly choose one form and keep it. T’Nary used to change her form more often - it’s a big advantage, if you want to be an actress at a theater - but it wasn’t any less painful.
In front of a person like Serena, T’Nary was too proud to be able to show any weakness while horns drilled themselves out of her skull and long, leathery wings grew out of her back. More than a few twitches in her face weren’t noticeable, and thusly, Serena nodded satisfied while watching the slow transformation - which is as embarrassing for a Changer as if you had to undress in front of a crowd of people.
As the transformation was finished, T’Nary was now in her “true” form. An intense fire burned in here eyes, which could cost a lesser being like a human or an animal easily their mind. She gazed directly at Serena, in hopes to provoke any reaction. However, she wasn’t successful. The cleric simply turned around and continued her way. The Changer sighed, shook her head and followed her, the dull wish to fly the way in the back of her head.