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Hope you enjoy it, if everyone likes it, I'll make more chapters to it and create a huge story!
"Six. Seven. Eight..." He counted nonchalantly as he strolled down an
old, dirt road. On both his right and left were houses. Some stood as
tall as a mountain, their tops piercing the sky and brushing the
clouds. Others were no more than shacks, a creaky wooden door, a
shattered window or two, and a roof, if they were lucky. "Nine." He
continued as his eyes lazily scanned his surroundings. He suddenly
stopped, and looked down with a scowl stained on his face. His mouth
twisted in disgust as he looked away, and stepped over the corpse.
"Ten." He shuddered, then returned to his stroll. The shacks had been
a nice, brown color once, just as the taller buildings had been a
beautiful white marble, but all were stained red now. Even high up on
the tall buildings, he saw it. "Just how high does blood fly?" ,he
remembered asking his crew when they first arrived here. His question
had summoned up a chuckle or two, but it mostly earned him frowns. No
one enjoys joking anymore.
When his walk had ended, he found himself at the makeshift garrison
that his superiors were so proud of. It was seven tents of dried
leather, with some, wooden palisades circling around it. ****ed
things don't even have tips... he thought crudely as he slipped
through two of the dull spears they called a defense. Might keep
out a child, if he were sickly.
"Ah, you're back!" Called out a voice from his right. "Sir Grimor,
give me your report!" His superior commanded in an echoed voice.
With a silent sight, Sir Grimor trudged over to him. The man who had
called him was adorned in bright, shiny armor that covered him from
head to toe. His helm was practically a steel bucket with a slit in
front for eyes. Grimor wondered how they could see anything. "Sir,
there are no signs of life. In all, I've come across seventy-four
corpses. Some burned, so ripped viciously apart..." He paused to
shake his head of the memory. "A gruesome sight." He said, then added
"Sir," just in case, he didn't feel like receiving a lecture for not
addressing his superiors properly.
"Seventy four? Gods..." He gulped as he glanced back at the village.
"And no survivors?"
Grimor glanced downwards, and his silence answered his question.
"**** it all!" He cursed as he swung a fist down onto a his other
hand's open palm. "Charred bodies, pieces..." He took a deep breath.
"Aye, I believe so, Sir." He said, "I-"
The sound of wings beating the air resonated from high above them. "I'll be ****ed..." Said his superior as he looked up through his bucket helmet. "Looks like we get our revenge early."
To be continued!
IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF... DRAGON BALL Z...!
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