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Cannon Fodder: The Demon Fox

The last embers of the fire slowly die out. The temperature plummets with the setting sun; its final rays pay a melancholic tribute to the day that was. The whistling sends wind chills to the bone as a light drizzle sets in. The embers hiss and crackle as they are extinguished by the falling water.

He looks up as the first drops hit his face, his breath coming out as a puff of smoke. Hesitant as he is, he knows in his bones that the hunt must begin. He recalls his previous brutal dalliance with the creature… It was a challenge but his guns had proved sufficient to tame and defeat it, but he had failed to destroy the core of its power. It had slunk away into the night, vowing the blackest of revenges.

But that was before… Before the Roman had begin his work… Before his dark arts had twisted a simple fox spirit into a bloodthirsty demon… Before the blood-lust coursed through the monster’s veins and fury burnt through its gaze. The Roman mage had experimented far too much, pushing the barriers of magic and blurring the line between the possible and impossible. His spells a dangerous confluence of ancient Latin Magicks coalescing the oddest of ingredients: steel from the dark depths of Paris, a mysterious gem from Sarcelles, water from Manchester and a putrid blade from Sheffield that no one dared touch.

For too long the rich had ruled over the poor and the weak, crushing the powerless with their mighty coffers and league of noxious agents. But the Latin sorcerer had sworn revenge, promising that the blood of the rich would wash his boots and cleanse the land. His dark demon moved across the once fair land, its steel claws bringing furious devastation as it smote the weak and strong alike. ‘Mercy’ was but a meagre joke to the wizard… There was a gleam of madness in his powerful red eyes that simply could not be denied.

The common folk knew not when whence the creature’s mysterious demonic power stemmed, but the effects could not and would not be denied.

In his previous battle the Roman had crushed an old and respected wizard, cackling with uncontained blood-lust as his demon spawn rent the wizened one from limb to limb. The Roman’s dark invocation had rent a hole in space and time: A dark chasm, 5 leagues wide and of unknowable depth. The Mancunian town had known terror as the Wizard of the blue moon had been torn from his throne, brutalized and cast into this abyss; his apoplectic death rictus frozen across his visage as he fell into the nothingness. His time at the table of the glorious four had ended in ignominy and despair.


But the Man knew all of this full well.

Yet he stood resolute, his nostrils flared as he sniffed the wind. It was here. The rancid stench of congealed blood wafted through the air. He could feel the ground quiver as its monstrous paws hit the hallowed ground his fortress. It signalled the inevitable approach of the beast.

The man grinned; he relished challenges and worshiped his duty as chief of his protectorate. If the Roman wanted war and death, that’s exactly what he would find. There were consequences to threatening the Grove of the gods as the Roman would soon find out… Beast or not, the fox’s days of dealing in blood were at an end.

It was time to unveil the final seal… It was time to show them the meaning of true power…


The battle begins on Sunday, February 14, 5:30 PM, at The Grove of Ashburton.


{This post was a humble tribute to Masashi Kishimoto’s epic: Naruto. If you do not know what that is, then your life isn’t worth living; your existence is simply a futile exercise in wasting oxygen. Please end it.}

About Varun Chand

Full time nothing doer and part-time Engineer (supposedly). I really hate the Arsenal and that's why I spend so much of time writing/talking/discussing/debating about them. I enjoy mocking YOU because it's fun.

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