Doom Story Update

First 2k words right here. Hope you all enjoy

***

This wasn’t a war.

Placing her hands on the railing, she turned her snout up at the vista, her eyes narrowing in scrutiny. The continent sprawled in all directions as a sea of dirt and ash, broken up by clusters of charred protrusions that had once been settlements, now long since razed to the ground. These ruins curved up the continent like veins, terminating at a chain of crooked mountaintops that brought forth images of her home, their jagged shapes rising up into the sky like the grasping tendrils of sacrificed souls.

A distasteful aura radiated from the land, a swirling crimson fog hanging thick upon the air. It concentrated above the contusions crawling throughout the vista, turning what had once been stretches of flora into engorged pustules bristling with wriggling appendages.

These swaths of corruption were fleeting for the moment, small enough to be covered by her hand, but the gluttony of Hell was unending, and every mote of dust would be consumed in time. Once the demonic energies had laid root upon a world, the brand would stay forever. Hell didn’t even need to deploy its legions, the planet would be laid to waste through no other cost but time.

How trite of us.

The natives of this planet – this Earth – were coincidentally susceptible to the influence of Sin, leading further credence to her prior assessment. Within the first weeks of invasion, entire countries had been ceded to Hell’s armies, and any resistance had been reduced to pitiful squabbles lacking meaningful difficulty.

“One would think promises from Gods would hold the most merit,” she rasped out loud. “but it seems even the ascendent can be audacious, wouldn’t you agree, priest?”

She had heard his footsteps before he’d even entered the antechamber, his shoeless feet slapping against the stairs with a wet quality she found wholly disturbing. She turned from the railing, seeing a scrawny figure pass through the archway on the far side of the room. He was cloaked in a dark robe gilded with yellow trimmings, his beady face obscured behind a cowl. Only his forearms and feet were exposed, and branded upon his pale skin were the glowing runes and symbols of the Dark Lord – results from the many demonic rituals he’d taken part of.

Those runes gave him some meek measure of leadership among the other corrupted humans, but his authority dwindled in the face of her own, mouthpiece that he was.

“You are right as always, my Baroness,” he replied, his high-pitched tone torturing her ear-holes. “Mortals and immortals alike, everything sins, but woe betide those who’d doubt your intellect.”

“A world to conquer, with armies millions strong,” she said, gesturing behind her with a red arm. “A gift to expand your dominion, were the precise words. Yet this city was halfway evacuated by the time the portals opened. A pack of mentally-impaired cacodemons could have taken care of this place, for all the ‘conquering’ that was ‘gifted’ to me.”

“Your campaign has not been without its battles,” the priest pointed out, raising a crooked finger. “What of the Rallypoint to the north?”

Her nostrils flared. The Rallypoint was a human fortress hugging the coastline, a decrepit attempt by the natives to hold claim to their world, and played a key part in harbouring the natives when Hell arrived at the city outskirts. It was a giant stopgap measure in her opinion, yet the Rallypoint had stood fast against Hell’s advances, even her saboteurs had failed to penetrate the minds of its denizens. Attacking it directly was folly, those giant guns lining the battlements obliterating anything that walked or flew too close. Such stalwart defences had inspired caution among the demonic. Even the wild packs of Imps gave the fortress a wide berth.

“A two month long siege does not constitute battle, you imbecile,” she snarled. “A Titan would make quick work of those cretins, but it seems my wait for reinforcement is eternal, and I must resort to letting starvation do my fights for me.”

“The Lord only spares the great Ancients for more… major targets,” the priest reminded, bowing his head when she glared at him. “N-Not to imply your goals are not lucrative, my Baroness. Your grip on this territory is fierce, the cowards hiding behind those walls proof enough. The amount of souls you’ve offered is only surpassed by the magnitude of your-”

“Oh, be silent you ministrating monkey.

“S-Sorry, your excellence, sorry...”

The priest gulped as she turned away. He wasn’t really a priest, just another acolyte with more rituals under his belt than the average corrupted mortal. She just liked to call him that to try and goad him on, always lacing the word with a hint of sarcasm, but he never wavered in being a kiss-ass.

“Did I ever tell you of my exploits in the Burning Peaks?” she asked, not bothering to wait for his answer. “My first time leading a force was there. I took a hundred Barons into the crags, tearing apart whatever moved. We couldn’t even turn a corner without facing off against a rival clan. Blood and ash paved our path and it was glorious.”

She licked her tusks, almost moaning that last part out.

“Where I come from, battles went unending, all one sees is red. Now what do I see?” she asked, her mood flipping as she raised her arms. “Milquetoasts. Why we ever considered this planet a conquest is beyond me, a hundred of your souls can barely produce a pack of Imps.”

“The Maykyrs offering this planet was a bargain in nature, with little to do with power gain,” the priest corrected, backing away when she growled down at him.

“Do not speak again of those condescending cabbages,” she snapped, eyeing the horizon once more. “Oh, but their planet, on the other hand… Imagine the energy that would bear if we consumed lands cultivated by Gods. Even the thought alone is positively delicious…”

A flock of flying Imps soared before her balcony from left to right, their bat-like wings folding out to catch on the gale, distancing into little dots.

“Alas, I must content myself with naught but this stalemate,” she grumbled, leaning against the railing again. “A single stronghold that is too small to be considered a threat to warrant a Titan, but large enough to deter my numbskulled legions.”

“Perhaps the news I bring may lighten your… surly, mood?” the priest suggested, the sound of his slapping feet growing louder as he drew deeper into the chamber.

“I assumed you didn’t climb all those steps just to prester me,” she muttered. “Out with it, priest.”

“As you requested, we’ve been monitoring the human channels for messages, and uur saboteurs have intercepted a transmission.” he explained.

“Tell me why some errant radio signal is worth disturbing my thoughts, again?”

“Well, while we are not quite sure what the contents of the package are – yet – but we are confident its recipient was someone within the Rallypoint.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it was for the fortress, you fool, where else would a message go to out here?”

“F-Forgive me, Baroness, my lowly assessments are not worth your ear…”

“Who sent this transmission? Do you at least know that much?”

“You can see for yourself, esteemed Baroness,” the priest said, daring to cross the chamber. He seemed to shrink away from her the closer he came to the balcony, her presence disturbing him on some base level. The feeling was mutual.

“We should be able to see them. Right… about…. eh… any moment now…”

He glanced worriedly up at her, wincing away when he saw her rapidly draining temper. She was about to ask what he meant by ‘them’ when the priest raised his calloused hand.

“There! Right there!”

She followed his finger, the digit pointing westward, where the scorched land gave way to ocean, the shimmering water reflecting the sullied shades of the sky. Through the swirling fog at the limits of her vision, three specks appeared, coasting along just above the sea.

As they watched, she began to pick out details. Their flanks were adorned with stubby wings, the noses plastered with windows in the shape of bubbles. Those were jets, bomber craft or maybe transports judging by their bulky shape. The aircraft weren’t heading towards her cathedral, but their destination was obvious enough.

“So the human bastion calls for aid?” she mused, folding her arms. “That is far too few ships to sustain an evacuation, they must be carrying troops.”

“A brilliant assessment, my Baron! Those transports may be carrying a whole section of armed soldiers.”

“I am almost tempted to let them pass,” she said, tracking the craft as they flew adjacent to the coastline. “A few squads of fresh souls would provide some modicum of entertainment.”

“Perhaps the Baroness… could?” the priest asked.

“And let them strengthen the Rallypoint’s defenses?” she countered. “And who asked for your suggestions, priest?”

“A thousand pardons, my Baron…”

“Explain to me now why I shouldn’t slay you for treason,” she stated, fixing him with a cold glare. “One would think you still harbour care for your former kin, asking your Baroness to show them mercy…”

“M-My Baron, you misunderstand!” the priest stammered, bowing his head until it practically hit the floor. “Or rather, th-the choice of my words was foolish of me! I only mean to say that, if you wish to relive your glory days of the Peaks, maybe allowing the humans a small semblance of hope could be the first step.”

She looked over the vista and thought about it. “Interesting hypothesis. Go on.”

“A batch of reinforcement could tip the scales of this stalemate,” he continued. “They wouldn’t ask for assistance if they didn’t plan on acting upon it. You may get your battles yet if this situation bears fruit.”

“Intentionally put my enemies in a stronger position, as a means to break up the norm? It is one of your more… interesting ideas, I’ll grant you that.”

“I live only to serve your needs, my Baron…”

She didn’t think a single section of soldiers was much of a contention, but she was thinking from Hell’s perspective. For the resistance, that might as well be a whole other army coming to help. She couldn’t afford to let her visions of the past lead to complacency, however, who knew what other cargo those transports carried?

“Your suggestion pleases me,” she eventually conceded. “I will let those transports go to their little fort.”

“Of course, my Baron, I will-”

“Except one,” she interjected. “Order a pack of cacodemons to tear one asunder, I don’t care which, but the other transports are to be left untouched. If they argue, tell them I will rip their eyes out if they don’t comply.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” The priest bowed repeatedly as she listed off her orders. When he didn’t move, she thrust an arm at the staircase, and he slinked off without a word, vanishing through the arch.

She heaved a sigh of priest-free air, scratching at a horn as she watched the trio of dropships soar north. It wasn’t long before a series of shapes rose from the base of her cathedral, the rotund bodies of her cacodemons taking flight, ten or so of them beelining for the aircraft.

She was too far away to witness the finer details of the interception, but it wasn’t long before one of the aircraft was arching down towards the ground, the cacodemons following the smoking fuselage like vultures finishing off a dying animal. As requested, the other two ships were allowed to leave unmolested, disappearing over the hills and vanishing from sight. Destroying all three would have been savagely easy for her flying demons, those transports didn’t even have mounted guns to defend themselves.

As she’d posited, this wasn’t a war. It was a slaughter, and where was the nuance in that?