239 Destruction 23.5

Sigurrós had laid waste to a third of the camp, killing countless D-Caste, Omega Guard, men-at-arms and a few Templars as she combed the tents for a sign of her quarry, flying through the air looking for the distinctive white armor and helmet.

She had set fire to large tents and small tents, men young and old, soldiers who tried to face her, and all of the trebuchets which had wreaked so much havoc on the city that she led.

She had reduced a third of the siege camp to cinders, burning multitudes of soldiers and D-Caste as they slept and as they ran.

Yet for all her efforts, for all the slaughter and death, she had found not one sign of the man she was truly looking to kill.

She wanted Asser Clef- and Asser Clef alone.

She tried her best to not mind the fire, the smoke, the screams of pain and agony, the smell of burning flesh and fabric.

She set all her fears and memories aside as flames issued from her fingers, killing dozens with each burst as she flew down and set tents and pavilions alight in the dead of night.

After half an hour of killing, she was at her wit’s end.

***
The Siege Looms Heavy (Part Two)