The not-immortal Blacksmith

“So Mikaa, you failed to capture the Heretic's child?” The overweight demon stared daggers at the thin demon masquerading as a man.

“I'm sorry my lord. I did as I was bid,” Mikaa swallowed hard, “and tempted him with candy. He said something about 'get the candy first', and fled before the minions could encircle him.”

“Very well. You are dismissed.”

Mikaa fled from the cavern. How could the Demon King send such an idiot to the world? He can't even tie his own shoes! He slowed down before turning a corner into his 'cave'. He even abandoned the fortress Lancil made for this dreadful old tunnel system! Sure, it was fun to kill the dwarves, but dwarf meat is so stringy! Not even the children are decent food. And slaves? IS HE INSANE?!?

Mikaa slumped onto his cot. There needs to be something done. Something done soon, or we will be the laughing stock of this world and the next. He rolled over and fell asleep.

*-*-*

The ram smashed into the main gate over and over again. No matter how many of the demons they poisoned, more came forwards to take their place. Maxwell's hands were covered in the dust of burned powder and cleaning solution. Gods cure this all. We're already out of poison. Even those of Repute are out. The gate groaned, and he could hear splintering. Oh. Great. Now the bone shard is in the throat.

Max slid down the ladder, “Back to your holdout positions! Street to street fighting! Keep them out of the populated sections!”

- - -

Deep in the bowels of the city, where only he remembered the location, the ancient demon general grabbed the spiked handle of a crank. The needle like spikes dug into his hands, sucking his blood as well as his life force from his body. “For so I love this city, I give my life for it. Into the Heretics hands I commend me.” With his first, and last now human breath, he pulled a lever.

A silver bell quietly chimed, once. And the Weaver shook their head, “Dammit.”

- - -

Prince Lancil stared at the city. A city that was now, and probably forever, beyond his reach. A dome of multihued colors that that sparkled in the dawn early light. “Vtev, we are doomed.” He looked at his friend, “Not even plan Omega will save us now.”

Vtev nodded, “Our only hope is that the half million will wash upon this rock, and be torn apart like the waves of the ocean.”

Prince Lancil bowed his head, “To heaven with the plans. Sound the retreat. We flee to the south.”

“My lord?” Vtev stared at the prince.

“If you can't beat them, join them.” Lancil smiled, “Issue the order. We will assimilate into this 'fake' society. Perhaps, one day, our children will conquer them all.”

- - -

Maxwell gaped at the light. It had sprung up from nowhere, it infused the wall, and formed a dome that enclosed the city. The demons at the gate and flashed to dust, the demons behind them had exploded into paste, and those behind them had just fallen and not stood up again. “What in the ever loving hells?” Then something hit him, and he fainted.

- - -

Brandywine stared at the demon hoard from the cover of the trees. First there was attacking, then in the time between the seconds was a light, then the demons exploded. Now? Now there was a magical shield the likes of which she had never seen, encapsulating the city. It shone brightly in the dawns light, rainbow hues cascading across it's surface. “What in the hells did Maxwell do this time?”

- - -

A long distance to the east, in a camp for the refugees, a child of seven years awoke screaming. Screaming from the sight of watching their oldest, greatest, uncle; dying.

*-*-*

Ochalz, greatest general of the demon hoard stared at the messenger in front of him. “What do you mean, Lancil the Cursed is fleeing to the south?”

“There was an explosion of light from the cities walls. It killed half his army. He gave the order to flee.” The scout turned messenger quavered under the gaze of the general. “They didn't even pack, they just ran like a herd of scared deer.”

“Interesting. Deliver the report to Lord Rastafaun the Gorged.” Ochalz dismissed the messenger and sat heavily on his camp stool. That ignorant, brainless tub of fecal matter is going to force me to break the army on this insignificant city. He stood and paced the small tent. If only I knew someone strong enough to kill...Hmm...