The dust was settling in a particular desolate portion of the wasteland, far on the outskirts of known society. Bodies laid everywhere scattered about most killed from gun shots. Well aimed holes in them, some of the bodies were worse off. Torn apart as if were hit by a cannon ball. There were several broken wagons as well one completely destroyed as parts of it littered the field.  In all of this a dark figure walked. Covered head to toe in black, bandanna hiding his face as this large brimmed hat blocked the moon light from entering his face. Glowing yellow eyes was all that could be seen. Not far behind that was a horse walking, equally dark as those glowing red eyes looked around the field of the battle that preceded. 

  There was a groaning sound from one of the bodies a survivor leaning against a wagon coughing up blood. "And he rode in on a thick fog. Glowing eyes piercing through that veil of darkness." he coughed up more blood as he hand was covering a bullet wound in his stomach "I told them it was just a myth..you were just some hunter using the stories to hunt us. Some cheap spell to stir up a fog." He looked up at the drifter "So what now...you leave me here to die" he looked into those glowing eyes as they soon died down. The drifter looked at him [color=9e0b0f]"no man deserves to die this way, no matter his sins"[/color] Raising his arm he pointed that .45 at him pulling the trigger finishing off the man putting a bullet in his head. 

  This was something the drifter could never understand. In this world ravaged by demons, where everyday life was a struggle for survival, there were still humans that prayed on other humans. It all seemed so...pointless. These men had been attacking others, raiding caravans all across the wasteland. More lives lost that could of helped defend humanity. Soon though he could feel a pull. Something inside of him stirring, the demon side of him could sense the bloodlust, the massacre. It was a horde, a very large horde. He had never felt something like it before, so many demons amassing. ShadowMane had walked up behind him. Grabbing his reigns he hopped up onto the saddle as he looked in the direction. There was another feeling inside of him urging him to go towards it. [color=9e0b0f]"I know father"[/color] He said as he whipped the reigns and soon Shadow mane was off running in the direction of that horde. 

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      Two weeks had past since that feeling he had that night. As the sun rose he brought ShadowMane to a walk, soon over the horizon he could see the outpost, or former outpost. The place was a ghost town, it wouldn't be long before the hunters form the capital came to this place. There crude methods destroying any evidence, any trace of what happened here. Bringing his horse to a gallop he rode to the edge of the out post before getting off. [color=9e0b0f]"Wander, and stay hidden"[/color] he said as ShadowMane ran off into the waste land and Drifter walked into the outpost. Looking around at the rubble, the senseless loss of life. Bodies were stripped and devoured, Reaching down he placed his hands on the ground. The area was still ripe with demonic energy, like a lingering stink. He could feel the bloodlust, the violence. [color=9e0b0f]"But was there a Lord involved is the question" [/color] he stood back up wandering through the town.

   Soon he lept off the ground, landing on a roof top he looked at the casing on the ground. leaning down he rubbed his hand on the roof. Powerful magic, a skill full hunter was hear. Fighting for people to escape, he looked over s he could see the blood stain of another. People fought for there lives here. Fought so others could survive. Standing up he closed his eyes sniffing the air. The stink of demon, it repulsed him, at the same time...It was family. [color=9e0b0f]"How were we born of this" [/color] He knew his father felt no real emotions towards humans, but neither did he care for senseless violence. Soon though he looked over as a train was pulling into the near by station. He would stay out of site for now, watching the hunters.