Sword.
Check.
Crozier.
Check.
Wards.
Check.
Oil flask.
Check.
Pulling your hood up and over your head, you breathe in, step forward, and kick the door in front of you off its hinges with an almighty CRACK!
Striding into the dwelling, you quickly scan the home, sighting the two occupants, who were sitting at a table, about to bolt. Intercepting the man as he tries to run, tripping over his chair, out of the corner of your eyes you can see the woman running down a set of stairs into a basement. Good, she wouldn't be able to run.
Pushing the man over onto his back with a steel-shod boot, you lean down and grab his clothes at the chest, roughly lifting him up to eye legs so he could gaze through the otherwise blank faceplate into your burning azure eyes.
"Where is the demon?" You ask, your voice deadly calm. Your only answer is the stench of urine, the man too afraid to string together a sentence.
"I SAID, where is the demon?" The man still does not answer, his eyes resembling those of a rabbit being chased by a particularly large hound.
"You will be judged for this, later." Rearing your head back, you slam your forehead into his, your metal faceplate ensuring that the man was out cold.
Spreading your red robes to reveal the heavy steel armour underneath, you draw your sword and advance down the stairs into the basement.
Under your helmet, your face contorts with disgust. A summoning circle was engraved into the floor with chalk, a candle set at each of the star's points. Candles that had been hurriedly and sloppily lit by the frantic woman cowering in the corner.
Eldritch fire begins to spill forth from the circle, and you turn your attention to whatever threat was about to emerge.
A humanoid figure, its skin entirely red, materialises in the midst of the circle, the flame dissipating. Upon seeing you, the demon's face displays shock and fear.
Good. All evil should fear the Inquisition.
It was obviously a lesser demon, his appearance indicating as much. No horns, pathetic muscles, average human height, and small claws instead of fingernails.
Armour clanking, you stride towards the disgusting thing, turning as you do so, your sword in your hand. Turning on the spot, you let your sword arm travel in a horizontal arc, ripping through the demon's throat in an instant.
Regaining your balance, you watch as the now headless body thumps to the floor. You were lucky it was a lesser demon that was summoned, as even the rawest of Inquisition recruits could defeat them with the right moves. Spinning decalitations seemed to be popular.
The demon's body dissolves into a pink-red fire, returning it back to the Hell it came from. Noting the candlesticks on the summoning circle's star points, you quickly rend each of them in half, your sword easily cutting through them.
Walking over to the sobbing woman in the corner of the room, you grab her by the hair, dragging her kicking and wailing form behind you as you exit the building, pausing to sheath your sword and take hold of the male heretic's clothes. Dragging both the unconscious man and the screaming woman through the streets, you whisper to her, just loudly enough so that only she can hear.
"God may forgive all, but I'm not God. You're going to tell us everything you know; the names of your fellow cultists, where you meet, and at what times. Because I'm not God, I don't have to forgive you. And for summoning such a vile creature to this realm, endangering the lives of all in this town, just so you could fuel your sick fantasies, indulge in your disgusting desires without care for your neighbours who would be slaughtered had I not intervened?
Well, I'm not feeling particularly forgiving.
And neither is the Inquisition."  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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