Once upon a time the world was corrupted by demons who disguised themselves as men. The demons pretended to be kind and caring about the world and the humans who lived upon it. The trusting humans believed the demons subterfuge, and thus elected them to positions of leadership and power.
The demons continued their trickery and used further manipulation to deceive and confuse the humans, causing them to fight amongst themselves. This was a slow process, but once the infighting began, it was all too easy for the demons to erect an intricate system of control whereby most of the humans relying upon the system were enslaved.
...Many of the humans went underground, or off the grid entirely. Some enclaves of humans tried to establish a resistance against what they thought were their supposed leaders. However, these efforts were easily crushed. Failing to understand the true nature of their enemies, and the real power that the demons actually possessed these enclaves were rooted out, and paraded as traitors and heretics of the state. The demons created camps for the traitors, where the traitors were forced into labor while wearing heavy wooden shoes that caused nasty blisters and wore on the humans soul and will to live.
This went on for fifty generations, and the memory of freedom that humans once had became long lost with this passage of time.
Then there came a woman. Her eyes flashing in the moonlight. Her jaw set in steely resolution. Her hands, worn with toil, bore an axe. Her arms and shoulders broad and ropey with sinew. Her red hair flowed free in the cool evening breeze.
She went to the people, telling tales of the demons. How a man here or a woman there caught a glimpse of their true nature. How some had begun to rise up and fight, slaying the demonic overlords and their kin.
The people, however, were broken and worn.
Her legend began as a whisper among the common-folk. Fearful people wished, "Ra-Sapt protect you" as they parted. They saw her as the return of a nearly-forgotten sun god. She knew of her growing reputation and used it to gather followers to begin a revolution. She did not want to be just a symbol, she wanted to bring about a complete cleansing of her world of the corrupted demonic plague.
The red haired woman inspired courage and the will to fight in the shattered flock. And indeed the people fought back against the demonic hordes. So much so that the demons were beaten back, and all appearances of victory were wrought with the crowning of the red haired woman as the new queen and savior of the people.
And so the people believed that the world was once again cleansed of corruption. And they were right for a time, however, the stain of evil can never truly be removed from materiel existence. For with the peoples inherent dualistic thinking, and the freedom to make choices either righteous or wicked, that ideology alone can generate demons and angels.
While the joyous people celebrated their victory Bilalznon, God of Filth and Putrescence, the antitheses of Ra-Sapt, oozed from the deepest layers of the other dimensions.
Bilalznon sent its assassins to capture the new queen and make a fitting example of her rebellion. To show the people what happens when they find a savior...
The assassins, dark as pitch, made their way from shadow to shadow as the people celebrated their queen. Never suspecting their presence, the queen stood on the small hill above one small town and lit her own celebratory fire. Delighting in the light of the leaping flames she turned towards her people.
"This is what happens when night tries to overcome the light. This is what happens when evil tries to overtake good. Good burns on! Good lives on! "
The people, hearing her words, cheered. Their combined voices dominated the night, making the assassins' jobs that much easier.
The assassins crept into the crowd, wearing the shapes of the humans' fallen to blend in. The trio drew near, observing how near the queen stood to the pyre...
But while their shapes were fully human, their smell was unmistakeable to one who had hunted demons long enough. And though the queen herself was distracted, there was one other in the crowd seasoned enough to recognize the stench of sulfur.
Unfortunately, this hunter was currently crouched on the ground, throwing up the remains of her previous meal. And she was extremely drunk.
"Bleargh!"
"Have ye had enough?" The barkeep asked, only to be astonished as the drunken mess before him straightened and finished her eleventh glass of rye.
Her eyes gleamed in the firelight. She thought she was only going to spend the night wearing out a few good men; fighting and f*$$ing her night away.
The sulfur in the air brought her out of her reverie. She reached for her keen silvered blade and drew it partially from its sheath. It glowed eerily.
"Blue!" she bellowed. "The queen is not safe!"
Through the din of the revelers, her warning went unheard.
When there was no reaction from the guards, she drew her blade out fully, and charged into the crowd, continuing to cry her warning.
It wasn't until she had cut down the second assassin that the guards on the hill appeared to notice the danger to their queen. They surrounded the queen, their backs to her, their blades out.
Two of the guards, rather than joining their compatriots, drew their own blades and ran down the short incline.