He gasped and coughed for air, his lungs trying desperately to expel dust and smoke. The smell of sulfur, and burning, and death was all there was for miles. A horrid looking demon, something like a cross between a humanoid dog and a goat, lay dead next to him. Judging by the festering wounds and maggots infesting the body, it had already been dead before he put it down for good.

His eyelid was clamped shut as a burning pain filled his eye, likely from the disgusting black blood that had sprayed into his face during combat. It was all he could do to hack at the creature and struggle to stay alive. It had taken everything he had and now he was so exhausted he couldn’t move.

The distant sounds of machines could be heard, engines roaring loudly, wheels tearing the ground apart. Someone was coming, he needed to get up, he needed to keep going.

His limbs buckled under his attempts to sit upright, but after a few attempts and some deep breaths, he managed to drag himself up onto his feet. He was tempted to give the demon’s corpse a kick for good measure, but he was far too tired. He instead expended his depleted energy to retrieve his weapon from his dead foe’s corpse. There had to be a place to hide near here where he could rest for a few minutes…There was no way he was going to outrun the infernal war machines.

Shelter. Then rest. Then continue.

He needed to find that fucking bastard Shenorn!

My name is Iren, and I work on a lot of stories relating to Dungeons and Dragons games I play/run.