Kroza’s Story

by SoraCarrendar

The sounds of a hooves thundering through the forest resounded through the air as a quartet of rider’s raced away from the countless demons and humans chasing them. Each horse was being driven hard towards the clearing that rapidly approached before long the quartet of rider’s blasted out of the forest and across the clearing. As the quartet raced across the clearing the one in the rearmost position would peel away and dismount his steed, this caused the other three to stop and look back questioningly. At this stop the fourth rider bellowed “GO!! Let me buy you time my dear family.!!” Almost as one the other three rider’s nodded their heads and took off across the clearing once more. The fourth rider was wearing a black cloak that had its hood pulled up over his face to conceal his features before the rider reached up and pulled it down to reveal the features of Kroza Blackburn the demon of the west. Kroza sighed gently to himself knowing that in this delaying act he would be killed but it was worth it for the lives of his mother and two younger siblings.

The demonic warrior was armed with a pair of hellsworn swords meaning they possessed the ability to drain the souls of those they killed with ease, along with the hellsworn swords was a single scythe that measured six feet long with a vicious two foot curved blade. Kroza himself stood at eight feet three inch’s tall and bore the trappings of a souleater. What was a souleater one may ask? A souleater was a demon that devoured the souls of those it killed to gain their knowledge while also being able to tap into the slain one’s powers. Since Kroza was over a century old he had slain countless warriors in battle and consumed their souls to be used as his own. This meant that Kroza had the power to manipulate the elements with ease along with breathing gouts of fire and ice along with bolts of lightning. Kroza also had mastered every martial art known to man along with some forbidden arts that few even remembered. The demonic warrior sighed to himself as he closed his eyes shutting out the sense of sight which in turn brought his remaining sense’s upto near unheard of levels. His nose was able to detect the barest traces of the fear pheramones as the horde broke into the clearing before coming to a complete halt upon seeing the demon of the west waiting for them. The pause was all the three remaining rider’s needed to get away to the other side of the clearing and across the bridge that spanned the ravine.

This pause brought one of the overseers forward who chuckled softly upon seeing the single demon causing such fear from his men. “You whelps are all afraid of a lone demon? Oh c’mon now how hard can it be to dispatch a single demon barely into his adulthood??” Kroza snorted as he opened his eyes which where blazing with power that he had begun to accumulate as the overseer went on his tyrade. “Perhaps you don’t know who your dealing with….and they do…now would you like your death quick and painless or slow and agonizing? Oh wait you don’t have a choice in your death….” Kroza spat out at the overseer while the earth began to rumble and shift before a pair of stone slabs each weighing two and a half tons came up on either side of the overseer before slamming together with a loud crack turning the once mighty overseer into nothing more then a smear of blood on the ground. As soon as the overseer was killed by Kroza the horde would rush forward towards the lone demon who shrugged and fell to his knee’s with his hands on the ground before a gaping fissure opened up beneath the horde and dropped them straight into the earth’s core. Of course those dropped into the earth’s core where incinerated instantly before the fissure closed and Kroza slowly stood up with a lopsided grin. Then with a howl Kroza fell forward with a blade jutting from his spinal column seeming as if he had been killed by the thrown knife. However the second the body hit the ground a plume of smoke rose and revealed the slain Kroza to be a mere log with the real Kroza nowhere in sight.

The demonic warrior had in fact become one with the earth thanks to one of the older techniques he had learned from his mother who was an earth demon herself. As Kroza remained hidden within the earth itself he would grin before moving through the earth at breakneck speeds towards the gathering mob. Once he was in the center of the gathered mob of warriors he would erupt from the earth and lash out with his scythe easily cleaving through eight warriors before they even knew what happened. The second Kroza landed a dozen blades where arcing towards him all once before they collided with the haft of his scythe causing each of the blades to shatter upon contact with the cursed weapon.   As the blades shattered against the haft of the cursed weapon the warriors weilding them would growl in annoyance before falling upon the crouched demon in a flurry of fists and spouted obscenities. Althought they outnumbered him Kroza was not afraid as he had always been taught to never surrender. He grunted as fist after fist connected with his body and battered him further into a crouch as he bid his time for the moment. The second the chance arose which was a mere minute later Kroza would spin the scythe around his body cleaving all twelve warriors in half at the stomach causing each of the bodies to hit the ground with a thump as blood pooled outwards from their corpses. For hours this fight raged between the demon of the west and the endless hoards of the warlord wanting his family dead for daring to defy him.

Day turned to night as the forces of the warlord who had yet to be named or identified retreated to their camp for the night. Worn and battered Kroza sat down and groaned as his eyes fluttered shut for the night while a barrier of earth slowly rose to protect him till he woke. It was clear that the famed demon of the west was fighting as his namesake instilling fear and respect in the warriors he fought however the wounds he had suffered where numerous and not even mother earth could entirely mend his body as he had suffered every type of injury throught possible aside from losing a limb or anything of that sort. After sleeping the night away Kroza awoke to the sounds of the camps readying for the days coming battle. While Kroza readied himself he remained silent as a wraith with the only noise he made being the rustling of his weapons and the near inaudible whisper of the winds. As soon as Kroza was ready the earthen barrier slowly faded into the earth which allowed a searing wall of flames to erupt in a growing circle until it had incinerated every warrior who had encircled the small encampment he had made for the night. With the most immidiate threat dealt with Kroza would sigh to himself before leaping to the left to avoid a flurry of arrows that whizzed passed him and exploded upon contact with a tree at the edge of the clearing. Kroza paid the explosive arrow no heed as he walked forward towards the battlelines of the warlord with a calm even pace. Once he had closed the distance he would slowly slaughter his way through the lines of countless warriors heading towards the camp of the warlord himself. Through hours of fighting and numerous cuts and gashs inflicted to his body Kroza had fought his way to the warlord’s tent which brought a grin to his face.  With the Warlords tent in plain sight Kroza would chuckle to himself before grunting in pain as an arrow embedded itself in his right shoulder which he soon tore from his flesh causing it to take a small chunk of meaty flesh from his body.  No sooner had the arrow been removed from his body a decent sized fireball would slam into Kroza’s chest coating his chest in searing flames which burned his skin to the third  degree. As his skin was burned away Kroza would shriek in pain and torment before slowly staggering back to his feet as the impact of the fireball had knocked him flat on his ass. While staggering back to his feet the warlord was seen slowly walking towards the now crippled warrior known as Kroza. Kroza would look fearlessly into the warlords eyes before mustering enough strength to swing his scythe around in a blistering arc.  The warlord would sneer at kroza before blocking the blow with his forearm despite the bone breaking upon contact with the cursed haft of the scythe. This warlord was not a human but a greater demon of wrath who howled a warcry before lunging towards Kroza in a fury. Kroza on the other hand knew his life was drawing to a close but refused to go down without a fight. As the warlord rushed him Kroza would chuckle softly before a spire of earth shot up into the warlords gut ripping through his heavy plate armor. However the warlords momentum was enough to break the tip off and leave it embedded in his gut as he continued towards Kroza with murder in his abyssal eyes. The warlord would swing his left hand around which held a single long sword in it’s grasp.

It was clear to kroza that this would be the killing blow and end his life with the cold caress of steel ripping through his heart and chest cavity so he chuckled to himself and readied a massive fireball before hurling it at the warlord as he screamed defiantly. “IF I DIE YOU DIE WITH ME!!!!!” The warlord’s blade came swiftly ripping through Kroza’s chest and slicing his Aorta open leaving him to bleed out as the fireball consumed the warlord’s head turning it into a pile of ashs. The last things Kroza ever saw or thought about was that he had given his family enough time to escape the warlord’s horde’s at the cost of his own life.  The bodies of the two warrior lay right beside each other as the day went on heedless of the loss of two lives within hours of the day starting.  ~Six months later~  “This is the dawn of a new era ushered in by Kroza’s sacrifice. He alone allowed us to escape if he hadn’t sacrificed himself we would all be dead” A femine voice said laden with greif at the loss of her eldest son.  The women then stood up slowly and closed the book she had written about her son’s courageous activities that fateful day six months ago to the day. She then looked down at her growing family with a soft smile before speaking again. “Perhaps one day you will all be as great as your late brother was my lovelies… time for bed” A chorus of groans echoed the room before the pitter patter of young feet faded away as the kids ran to their room after hearing their favorite story of their heroic eldest brother Kroza. With the children gone Esmeralda would lower her head and begin to cry as she still mourned the loss of her eldest son and refused to believe he was dead before after a few moments of crying she straightened herself and headed to bed as well vowing not to let her son’s sacrifice be in vain……