"What are you!" cried the Guardsman before being wiped from existence. A small cloud of crimson was all that remained of him. At that same moment another guardsman's eyes boiled. Then one clawed at his own throat and the one next to him simply shot himself in the head. The whole squad either was wiped clean from existence or had killed themselves out of madness except one, one very unlucky man. This man was smart though. He had his eyes shut, tighter than he had ever kept them. The daemon-host slowly moved towards him until it was looming over the man, looming over him like the impending doom that was surely to come. She, or he, no it was more appropriate, was allowing him to live. Geshtinanna whispered to him, breaking into his mind like a battering ram, "Open your eyes pretty little thing." The guardsman shook his head. He could not even comprehend doing that. He knew he would be reduced to nothing the moment he opened his eyes. He spoke back in his mind, either out of defiance or in the vain hope of receiving mercy, "Tell me, what, what are you called."
The daemon played with the though for a moment, then replied, "Uttering my real name would kill you in your current shape. Little thing. Now answer my question, what is your name." The guardsman didn't know what to say. This was a sick game he knew it. But he answered the daemon for he feared what it might do if he didn't reply quickly, "Tammuz, Tammuz Israel."
"I hate that word, Israel." The guardsman curled up, crying now. "Why do you lament Tammuz?" The guardsman replied, "Because your going to kill me right? That's what you did to my friends." If the daemon possessed lips it would smile, "I have much, much greater plans for you, pretty, little, thing."
>Should I drop this and do another different story about the daemon or continue.