Chapter Text
The ground was black, beaten and barren. Hoof marks rolled along its surface leaving craters brimmed with rainwater. The setting sun cast the small encampment in an ominous orange, glinting off of long-since fallen marble columns like fire from the gods. The hollow columns spanned hundreds of yards, their entablature scraped in wide, sloppy strokes and covered by tarps of braided leaves. The center of the encampment gripped jagged remains of a massive temple. Its skeleton structure, sinking into the mud like a scuttled ship in war, was carved with delicate, exquisite reliefs of great antlered deer, faun centauri in billowing robes, floral blossoms between scenes of lavish meetings of the minds, now caked in dried dirt and tar.
From the structure came the steady trickle of Faun men, subtle markings of their gaunt furred bodies marred by tacked down white residue, pulling heavy carts by their shoulders laden with marble, thick chips of blue-gold lapis lazuli, and dented gold chalices and ornamentations tossed haphazardly. Slowly, exhausted workers made their way to the hollow columns with their hot breath sticking to them in the fall heat with each act of exertion. They lifted the sheets up with their antlers and returning to their waiting families inside.
All but one faun man had safely returned to their homes when the roll of the drums began. It started off low like a tiger's growl, but with each second it grew louder in intensity. With the recognition of the first beat chaos erupted in the once-still encampment. Families tightened the tarp closings, grabbing sharp sticks by the entrances, hunkering down, waiting.
One tarp stayed untightened, the spear by the door unmanned and left placidly to the side. A mother soothed her crying sons, blonde hair slick to her face with sweat, anxiously listening.
"Hush, very quiet, just like we practiced." She whispered with an authoritarian tone. Her youthful looks were betrayed by her exhaustion, the desperateness in her expression left rumples along her skin as she stared unblinking, "You know they can hear you crying."
The sounds of hoofbeats followed the thunderous preclusion of drums. Chased after that was a chorus of rattling, deep toned roars. The small child in her lap lost his composure, thin frame trembling with body wracking sobs. A chain reaction sparked from this, as four other cries echoed down the length of the undecorated column, reverberating with a physical push. Her gentle tutting quickly changed to anguished terror, pleading with them to stay silent, stay low.
She could hear the first death outside of her home, a pair of antlers ripping through the braids of the door with a loud tear as the beige cloth turned black under the low lighting.
Too late.
She knew whose body it was, and she knew what would happen next. Another faun's body hit the mud with a sickening slap. Then another. If they were lucky, it would be quick. Another. She could smell burning, fires set at the opposite end of the column to drive them out with the smoke and heat. Two more. Worst case scenario were the slavers. The sound of the bodies layered too much to keep linear.
The children were pressed tight against her legs. She was feeling the heat from the other side of the column approaching them with a hunger. She was helpless but to stand and wait for the end.
The tarp separated from the column, fluttering silently across the still-warm corpse of her husband. A figure stepped in, then two more, flanking like an arrowhead. The burning encampment behind them left their bodies entirely blackened, save for the green eyes reflecting the orange cinders.
She could see claws outreaching through the darkness, jaws parted in a sharp toothed smile as they lunged at her. She scrambled backwards, covering up her children with her waifish body as she fell, hoofs scraping loudly against the marble. She braced herself for the end, eyes squeezing shut. A final flash of sharp and they could reunite as a family somewhere far away.
But it didn't happen. She let herself see, almost certain her adrenaline spike washed her with numbness. But instead, she was whole, and the whole column was filled with the smell of burning hair, and loud sizzling joined the drums and bodies. Her world be attacker was stuck with his knees bent, arms dangling limply at his sides in a frozen lunge. His eyes were wide as he attempted to register the red hot blade that was pushing diagonally through his body. She watched the recognition fade from his eyes as the blade was retracted in a swift and furious motion, blood pooling in the fuller popping and bubbling against the heat as he thudded at her hooves.
There was an imperceptible flurry of movements. She could see a fourth figure, dented armor reflecting the light of his sword as pale flame began to lick up its sides, messily dodging grapples from her attackers, their claws grabbing, digging into flesh and metal and hair. Sharp teeth, then pushing the man against the wall, knocking him prone. They pounced onto him, snarling reverberating for hundreds of yards of tunnels. He threw himself back, crushing a body against the wall. His hand found fistfuls of coarse braided fur at its temple, retracted and smashed it backwards. One time, then three, then over and over until it snout formed a concave dent and the struggling ceased. Attention turned until she saw that the last of them was holding his sword, the small flames reflecting its feral smile, golden capped teeth and green eyes dilated like pure black pits.
In the dark, she finally heard the man speak, uttering the word "Nuntalas" as though he was calling forth a disobedient hound, and the grip and pommel of the sword joined in the flames, setting her attacker's black fur alight.
Quickly, the blade was abandoned for a more physical response, the singe of fur and the missing skin of his hands merely attrition to the fight, grabbing him around his neck, the man holding an arm up to block his teeth from fully bearing down onto him. Jaws clamped hard onto his forearm, the leather of his braces penetrated with a loud pop as he sucked air in through his teeth.
He was against the wall, the thumb of his free hand pushing into its open eyes, struggling to remain on his feet as its legs lifted up and started to dig through his plate armor. He slid down, unable to keep his footing, taking the opportunity to reach for the sword that was just out of reach, still burning brightly.
She built up her whole courage as she watched it shake its head side to side, plate armor peeling off in thick ripped pieces with each kick. With her whole focus, she grabbed the flaming blade, pulled it overhead, and brought it down with all her might.