They had arrived sometime around noon. Just a handful of ships warping into the skies east of the marine stronghold. His warriors dropped and began flanking their main gates as lances ripped into targets.
They were a sacrifice of course, but possibly enough if he left them to it. Little fun in that though. And not the point, they were simply an action to force the opposite reaction... As they almost always did, the marines marched their ridiculous armour out across the fields to face the attack.
It would take them a moment to realize that the shadow falling across the battle was the rest of his fleet coming upon them from the west. And then too late of course, though it wouldn't have mattered a whit. More heavy weaponry rained down their backs while entire squads of wyches poured within their walls. They had trapped themselves in their own defences and were being slaughtered. The flood of wyches danced between the buildings and soldiers attempting to protect their families. They were cut apart for their courage. Screams rose from the fortress like an organ, and Va'Lastu swayed on the deck of his raider to the music of it.
And now this, this champion of men. Or what was left of him bolted to a boulder outside the city. He had chosen this one, who had fought, alone and surrounded until a succubus had finally severed it's hands. Left with nothing; frustrated screaming and helpless in the dirt. This attention is what Va'Lastu allowed himself while the survivors were collected. Already they probably wished they had died resisting, but wouldn't understand that fully until later.
The man thing was split up the middle, his ribs broken off and his exposed organs drying in the sun. He had been like like that for hours, and something had started to swarm over the wounds. Large colourful wings flapped around little ugly bodies; they came to eat the bits of dead flesh. 'Butterflies' he was was told they were called. Va'Lastu thought they were beautiful, though he had had troubles explaining it to others.
Or why he often preferred to assemble his raids in open daylight. Night offered certain protections certainly, but he had found days like these gave men hope, and crushing that added a sweetness, just on the top of the mouth, that he and his command had grown a fondness for.
But much more, men like this; his pride kept him alive longer than he should have been or would have wanted. Va'Lastu had gorged on that taste tearing it from him.
Eyes stared up at a cloudless sky; there was a lake down the grassy hill from where they were, forests around them. What value they found in these mossy rocks he could never imagine, or care the attempt to.
Va'Lastu gestured, and khymerae rushed past him. He watched as the mon-keigh's heart slowly came to a stop as the hounds ripped his flesh away from what was left.