The sickening sound of steel rending through flesh filled his ears. With a smile he steeped back to examine his handiwork. The pile of corpses had a new arrival; a tattered and bloodstained banner to the Dark Lord, which flew proudly from its base of death, a testament to a night filled with bloodshed.
He moved quickly through the wreckage of the former command post, passing dead cultist and Raven alike. After a few minutes of searching, he spotted his goal, the battered and broken body of the cultist commander, still clinging to life through shear fear of what lay after. He moved slowly to the body, pausing only for a second to slam his great sword through the chest of a badly wounded cultist, sending a scarlet spay over his already gore splattered armour. He bent over to grab the commander by the neck, dragging his weakened form into the air. The commander’s face turned purple, his eyes bulging out of his skull as the life was strangled from him. Vainly he beat upon the hands that were choking him, whilst spluttering out a sentence.
“The Queen... said. *cough*... Why?”
The commander’s lifeless body was dropped to the ground with a dull thump. He pulled out a short sword, and went about the grisly task of extracting the commander’s skull. It would make a fitting new death mask.
“Suffer not the Indigni to live.”
(http://i289.photobucket.com/albums/ll210/DigitalDrow/01.jpg)