It was a beautiful night. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. The twinkling stars seemed to look down upon the Earth with joyful activity as the bright half moon remained a still, unyielding force upon the tides and minds of men. There was a small village, out of the way of much travel. It was the home of only a few hundred human inhabitants. Most of those people were inside, cooking or preparing to sleep for the night, but there were a few children still outside, playing, throwing a ball around and running to and fro in an ever-present energy of excitement.
Lightning struck nearby. It was odd because there was not a cloud in the sky. And no thunder followed. A woman stuck her head out the door, oblivious to the incident as she called her children in to eat. But one of the children dropped his toy car and began walking toward the location where the lightning had crashed, in the center of the brick road. The ten-year-old boy stared down at the smoldering black brick just half a dozen feet away. He inched closer. When his mother yelled at him, he finally turned and started for the cabin.
But lightning came again, and in the same place. The boy jumped, hearing the crack and feeling the heat. He spun around and looked, but there was nothing. His mother had seen it this time, and was rushing out to her son. She was screaming for him to get into the house.
She had never heard of lightning striking in the same location twice...
As soon as she reached her son, just at the edge of the yard, a third jagged bolt of light hit the same spot in the brick road, but this time, the color of the lightning was an effervescent green. And the lightning remained, sizzling for several seconds as it scorched the brick and Earth beneath.
The mother pulled her boy away and turned, not looking back. She gulped, not knowing what this strange phenomenon was, but knew it couldn't be anything good. Fear made her heart beat faster and faster as she tugged her son through the short, chain-link front gate and closed it behind her. When she turned around, she saw it: a green and black hole in the space/time continuum, a dimensional portal.
Before she could take another step, two women exited the portal. The mother gasped and staggered back fearfully, her son still in her grasp. The two women were Valkyries, armored scantly and wielding spears. The next person to exit the supernatural doorway was their obvious leader, as the Valkyries stood at attention and saluted with their fists against their cleavage.
Their apparent leader was a muscular man of medium build with a black messy Mohawk. He had piercing green eyes and a scar running diagonally across his unshaven pale face. His attire included a long black leather duster complete with a short cape, black leather pants, combat boots, and a white form-fitting muscle shirt that did very little to hide his rock-hard abs, which was probably the point.
As soon as the man saw the woman and her son, an evil smile slowly spread across his face. The mother moved her son behind her protectively.
"Oh babe," the stranger cooed in an Irish accent. "That's not gonna help."
He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. Another bolt of lightning struck, but this time behind the frightened woman. When she spun around to find out why she could no longer feel her son's hand, she discovered that he'd been burnt to ash. Black flakes that had once been her son crumbled from her fingertips. The mother inhaled deeply, her eyes and mouth agape in shock and horror. Then she fainted.
General Tritus exited the portal behind The Infamous with two bodyguards. His guards were not Valkyries, but Erinyes, also known as Furies. Also unlike The Infamous, Tritus was not human, but a fallen angel.
"My lord Dren," said Tritus. "I sense a non-human presence in this village. Shall we seek her out, my lord?" He stroked his goatee as he gazed around.
The Irish human warlord Dren, known to many as The Infamous, smirked before answering, "Nah, mate. Take the humans. Kill the weaklings. Ye know the drill. Leave the djinn for me."