With a gasp, Daemora burst out from the chasm, flopping upon the charred and blackened ground. No amount of money was worth this stupid adventure, she thought, gritting her teeth in a fierce scowl. Her eyes had contracted to demon slits in reflex to the few attacks she had staved off whilst climbing back up to fresh, night air. It wasn't even a joke anymore. She was out of juice, still no richer than she had planned to be at this time of night, and that bloody man had refused to die.
Daemora got to her feet, and shook her head from side to side. Bits of debris and dust fell out of her hair. Her hand went to her holster, tensing at first, but then with relief, she pulled out her black weapon. It was a wonder she hadn't lost it. This baby was powered by her own juice, and it looked like it was still half full. Daemora contemplated reabsorbing that energy, but perhaps it would be better if she used it in small shots, rather than in one big boom.
She was definitely in no shape to fly, and really, there was nowhere to fly to. For at least a mile radius, the ground was black and flattened. Only the charred tree stumps remained, and the village had all but gone, obliterated. Flat ground was open ground, and that meant that whatever creepy crawlies out there would be able to see her also.
Daemora decided to go find a stream to wash in. And, the mountains were as good a direction as any to start heading for. She'd been walking for a few minutes when she heard a thud, thud. Bodies in combat, her mind said.
Her pupils returned to their dilated state, and she smirked, spotting the telltale figure of that man. He looked as if he needed help. He hadn't seen her yet, and she decided to stop and watch. She'd be damned if that higher level demon was able to accomplish what she hadn't been able to do.
((Friday nights are normally a bit hectic for me, soooorry!))