The Fall of the Empire

A demon walked upon the nation of Gods, his face, well sculpted with a cynical expression landed upon its prey. 'The Imperial Castle,' night was upon them, hard drinks and soft women, those privileged to enjoy life's exquisite boon were past their cognitive means. The world spun, and in their stupor, guards meant to watch over the celebrations, held upon the very gates who they ought to protect.

 "Who are you?" the guard stumbled, "-the castle is closed for tonight," he snorted, "-get away before I call the guards?" he knitted his brow and pointed at himself, "-wait I'm the guard," he laughed, "-go away before I… before I,"

 "Right," Staxius whipped his finger, the men fell into pieces, "-no more of that," he held his palm over the bloodied bits, latter turned crimson orbs. '-A fair snack before going to war,' he tucked his hands into the relatively clean pants and ambled over to the great hall.