Mashra sat with his council of heroes. Small as it was, they advised him of everything that occured outside and inside his walls. The thunder rolled outside the hut's windows, and lightning struck one council member, just entering the building. So much for him, now we needed a new war adviser, and here came the new one anyway. His son.

"Dad, why is there a burning heap of flesh in the doorway? Invited guest or horribly ugly fan?"

Mashra thumped his son on the head. Curver entered next, appearing saddened, and sat next to father, while his brother continued to speak.

"Maybe we can put in some new furniture, or some new old people, or maybe....OW!"

Mashra stood above his son, his foot having found the edge of his son's jaw.

"Respect your elders!.....As for the matter at hand, we have been told that the demonic army is closer than it has ever been before. Horut, what is their flag again?"

Horut, a horribly disabled Small Bossian who lost his left arm in battle with a demon himself, stood up and mumbled silently. Those near him heard it and told the crowd. Mashra was frozen at shock at the news. Curver didn't understand his father's horror. Who was this new enemy?

To understand Mashra's horror, you must understand that he was on Earth for the early half of the 20th century, and even then he was an "evil" genius. He took a German name, and lead that country to an almost complete victory, if it wasn't for.....this army, the one from his past that came to haunt him forever. His alias has been Adolph Hitler, and the demonic flag was red.....and white............and blue.......


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Chris was first on the battle front. He saw the carnage, the damage, the struggle. That was before his head was lobed off by Cuber's finger moving at the speed normally meant for locomotives and jet planes. Cuber had so far found, ripped open, and eaten about.....500 demons. They had eventually found him, lying in a ditch, covered in, well, what you'd find in a ditch. Then he smelled something. Something he had smelled before. He smilied as he smelled. Nuclear power. Cuber leaped over the corpses he had devoured and began to eat the nuclear waste left behind from the demons that left. They hadn't even hit him with their flying metal shrapnel. The green, glowing waste melted his tastes buds, and his tongue for that matter. He liked the blood, it made him feel at home, where his mother left him all alone with the rabbit. Hoppers. His pet Hoppers. His tasty, delicious, edible friend Hoppers. Crushing a demon's head under his foot, he grabbed a weapon and looked down the barrel. He shot hismelf in the eye. The eye grew back. He left.

Corrithissons spoke quietly to the Monk of Ice that had helped him through many battles. He had even fought him once. He lost, too. The Ice Monk grabbed the knight by the throat and tugged. The knight's throat was ripped out, mouth agast. The Monk smilied, closed the shop door, and feasted. His son was in jail thanks to him. He jailed Cuber. He deserved to die.

Small Boss drank his mercury and bronze so much that the purple squirrels and green elephants were winning against him in a battle of wits.

"No, you see, tables have 78 legs, it's a proven fact. No, I am not a tripod, do I look like a chair to you?"

Small Boss had been doing this for an hour before shaking himself awake. He saw the Queen. Still without clothes. Dead. Curver had killed the queen. He had killed Small Boss' queen. His queen. His queen. HIS QUEEN! Small Boss yelled in rage, and swiftly jumped onto his motorcycle and drove towards to Mashra's home. He had some killing to do. The air rushed by him at a pace similar to....Small Boss looked beside him. Cuber looked back.

"Hello, friend. Mind if I join you in your killing spree?"

Together they traveled, to Mashra's home, where Curver slept, where Mashra worried, where Horut would die in his sleep, where Huge Boss was headed to stomp out his foes. And where Ice Monk was headed. Wearing the corpse of his king like a winter coat.




Qua, king of The Black Hole tribe, sat softly in his chair, two claws in a human's dried skull, another two in a human's live skull. He sat there, eating tobacco with his free fingers. He quietly died there, singing, "Cha.....la.....head cha la.......cha.....la.....ead.....ch...............".