The joy of battle

“Yaaah!!!!”

Durga’s sword swung down, splitting the skull of yet another enemy soldier. Blood sprayed across his bare chest. He never wore armor, and fought bare from the waist up, challenging the war gods with his bravery. It was the way of his people, to defy fear and tempt ****, for only the brave would live forever.

He yanked the sword free, kicking the body off the blade, bits of brain coming free with it. It was a huge sword, nearly as tall as he was, far to heavy for an ordinary man to lift. Durga held it in both arms with ease, sweeping the breech clear with wide swings, reaping the red harvest with each strike. More of his comrades swarmed around him, slaughtering the last of the defenders. Durga bellowed a war cry, swing again, shearing one final man in half. Bodies lay scattered everywhere, lying across the rubble, blood staining the ground red.

The breech was taken. Behind him came the rest of the army, pushing their way through, tramping the **** underfoot. They swarmed through the streets of Andrapur like rats, killing all in their path. Bloodlust, and other, ever darker desires were in the air, and only blood would answer for it.

Some rushed to the city gates, overwhelming the defenders already weakened from lack of food. Within minutes they swung open as well, and the remainder of the attackers flooded in. The sack of Andrapur had begun.

Durga took a deep breath, grounding the point of his blade in the ground. The fight was over. Too easy, really, they were little more than rabble. Still, after all these months of siege, it was good to feel the blood rushing through his veins again.

Time to seek plunder. He looked around, and saw he stood on a street that ran along the wall. To his left there was the flickering light of fires, a sign that the city was already starting to burn, as many suspected it would. To the right the sound of windows breaking, and screams.

Two choices. Where would he go?