"Then it is settled. We shall waste away the night in talk of the fight!" said Old Thane as he slapped his knee in hearty excitement.
Li shrugged. "I guess I was going to talk about this with Zagan anyway. So, anything we should know about? How do the demons fight? How have they fought in the past. I am afraid that though I have read about the wars, the texts are very romanticized."
"I fought in the north," said Old Thane. "Moved me way down through Therandra and Aula, fighting demons with the beastmen, club tribes, elves, and, of course, Aine."
"That is right, I remember," said Li. He remembered that Therandra was the land of the beastmen and Aula was the land of the elves before the Republic officially consolidated its power. "You've told me plenty of stories of what you've done and who you fought. But still, it would be good to rehash what you've experienced. With less exaggeration, of course."
Old Thane was nearing seventy now, meaning he must have been in his late teens when the fourth demon war of 981 began. Even then, he had distinguished himself by fighting. In fact, when Li thought about it, quite literally every single moment of Old Thane's early life had been fighting.
From birth, he lived in a harsh environment where farming was not possible, where every meal was dependent on hunting and killing. Then, as a teenager, he had to rise up and fight monstrosities that would have made the Rivieran knights cower in their greaves.
Every year from then for decades, he had fought and fought and fought. His current rest as a farmer now was truly well deserved.
"Hah, lad, I've tall tales in me heart, aye, but the tales grow tall from good soil. There is good base for them." Old Thane clasped his big, calloused hands together and looked slightly up, reminiscing. "There was that first battle. I had just passed the rite of red snow, when all boys in our tribe became men by slaying their first prey alone.
A few days after I had butchered my Ironstag, the demons came. An advance force. Large creatures like bugs aping men, walking on twos but wielding weapons of ice in their many claws."
"Gelugons," said Li. They were a type of lower leveled demon that were insectoid in shape, occupying the frozen waters of demonic territory where they adapted, gaining chitinous plating immune to frost while also being able to bend the cold to their own will.
"Aye, that is what I learned later what they were called. The tribe fended them off until they sent forth a challenger of more merit. A superior, they called him. I met him in duel – my very first – and though he gave me many deep cuts, splashing the snow with mine blood, it was my fist that caved his plated head in."
"I'm beginning to notice that tactic-wise, the demonic army follows some sort of honor protocol. Sending out their strongest in duels and whatnot," said Li.
Zagan nodded. "Our ways are not compatible with the war making philosophies of man where the weak gather together such that as a whole, they may be something more than their individual weakness. We believe in individual strength and hierarchy, and such, we send lesser demons under our command to their deaths liberally.
The weaker demons thus are gifted the chance to battle and consume and evolve with their equals while we, the stronger, do not have to trifle ourselves with the rabble. When in our conquest, we encounter one strong, that is when we the stronger engage ourselves."
"Essentially, you swarm people and pick fights with whoever manages to stand out," said Li. "And in return, you give some reprieve to those that manage to beat you."
"A brief reprieve," said Zagan. "The Swarm is split into seven hordes under the command of the seven heralds, of which this personage was one. Each horde is further divided into countless number of units, their size related to the strength of the one leading them.
Thus, it may be that one defeated leader will call the demons under their command off, but that does not guarantee that any others will follow in example. Rather, the defeat of one leader will draw others eager to engage in challenge."
"Then instead of a general defense against a swarm, it turns into something like a boss rush. Interesting," noted Li.
Old Thane nodded. "Aye, and that was how I engraved my name in the war tales. I too sought challenge, and so, I left my tribe and went from settlement to settlement besieged by demonic force, challenging their leaders such that we might find ourselves in glorious battle."
"A wonder you did not perish," said Zagan. "Fate itself truly was on your side."
"Fate, or my fists?" Old Thane smiled. "The difference makes no difference."
"But then again," continued Li on his train of thought. "The demons did seem to adopt other tactics. For example, the spread of demonrot throughout the forests to neutralize guardians."
"There are differences in thought among demons, specifically between heralds," explained Zagan. "The more traditional ones, such as this own personage, follows the type of battle that the aged mortal is familiar with.
Others are more…irreverent. Lust and Sloth were such heralds in my time. Sloth created the demonrot and utilized its spread, not believing in exerting effort in battle. Lust took to manipulating mortal minds, believing should their minds be enslaved, that they were defeated."
"And this time, there's Gluttony spreading a new demonrot," said Li as he remembered the insect infested ogre.
"The new generation of heralds has always been more willing to shirk convention," said Zagan with a hint of disdain. "With this personage's absence, there are but Pride and Wrath to uphold the true ways of demonhood."
"Explains why the demons have started to tap into eldritch power in spite of your customs," said Li.
"No. The fault lies solely with the Burning One."
"Tell us about him," said Li. "It would be good to know about what is basically the general of an enemy camp."
"A Dark Archon of immense might and knowledge in the mystical arts. A driven one. An ambitious one. And one this personage would call his child."