Soldiers of Hell

We see the hordes of perdition. The stamping of iron boot and cloven foot. They march. They march out of the City of Dis. They march out of Pandemonium. They march out of Sheol. We see the myrmidons, the branded vagabonds, the burning banners, the inured, the reclaimers, and all the rest of the hellspawn. It seems impossible that reality has undone so many.

Above the the demonic rank and file are the officers of Hell’s armies. We see the Iscariot, the Lustrehunter, the Ach-Myrmidon, Cassius, and Brutus. Leaders of demons and still they are slaves to the churning, infernal machine, and their masters. They keen their grief with so much force. Mercy and justice disdain them.

The armies of Hell march, sweetling, though they can no longer remember why. It is what they are made for. They stride and wield their burning weapons of rust and iron. The only one to ever show such wretches a scrap of empathy was an odd man called Wicker…