Upon this new threat, the flying Angad they called it, he demon-like horses of Narantak's, (not quite as demon-like as Meghnad's, but hey, close enough, demon horses were demon horses, no discrimination) reared up, waving their front legs in the air as the hind legs stayed flat on the ground, and Narantak desperately grabbed at the reins, pulling them back and trying to get the horses steady so the chariot wouldn't break into two halves or be ground into the Earth like crushed skulls and bones were already.

Narantak just focused on the horses and steadying them, never a good thing to do in war when there were people out for your head. In this case, namely, it was Angad, prince of Kishkindha, who still flew in the air but now was being pulled down by gravity and landed right on the roof of Narantak's chariot. The heavy thud made him look up, but at that time, the clouds overhead also rumbled threateningly, so he just bit his lip, thinking it a clash of thunder in the distance.

Well, Angad was a monkey, not a natural phenomenon, and monkeys liked killing, much like some natural phenomenons, and so he jumped off of the roof and into the bottom of the chariot, where Narantak stood, still unleashing his arrows once the spooked horses started galloping again. Narantak paused his assault upon the vanar army, his eyes widening as Angad, with one great blw hit the back of his head so Narantak leaned over the edge of the chariot,

But the son of Dhanyamalini (maybe, or it could be one of the concubines), was not so quick to be killed. Just as Angad stepped back for a final blow, Narantak stood up, rolling his muscles, and whirled around just as Angad threw his fist. Dodging, going right under the rock like hand of Angad's, he wrapped his arms around the monkey's waist (no worries guys, PG-13, one of you messaged me saying you were worrying it would soon be R), and slammed him into the carriage walls, Geeta Phogat style.

Angad rubbed his head, woozy for a moment as Narantak stepped back, ready to hammer into his stomach like a bull. Too quick for the rakshas prince, Angad ran out of the way just as Narantak hit the wall, and now it was Ravan's son's turn to touch his temple, wincing as Angad once again readied to attack, grabbing his mace from where it had fallen on the chariot floors and was now rolling around on the smooth ground uselessly.

But this time, Narantak was ready, and he wrenched the mace out of Angad's hands and threw it on the ground (it rolled uselessly again, because maces love being useless). Then, they began to wrestle, hitting each other with unfair blows and pushing them to the ground. As Angad pushed back on Narantak's shoulders after a particularly strong offense, the demon prince found his chance.

He punched the Yuvraj's stomach, hard. Angad went sweeping onto the large floor of the chariot, unable to even roll over, clutching his tummy. Wiping away the sweat from his mustache, Narantak grasped at the dagger stored, hidden (Lakshman-style) in the folds of his dhoti. Eyes narrowed, with one great swing, the rakshas prince prepared to kill his admittedly skilled enemy.

Just as the sharp tool neared Angad's stomach, just as it looked like it was all over for the valiant warrior, Angad scooted out of the way, and the dagger clattered to the ground. "Huh?' Narantak wondered out loud as he looked up from the bloodless floor. "Where did that good-for-nothing idiot go?"

The good-for-nothing idiot was standing behind him, and with a great stone he had uprooted from the floor (where it had conveniently lay for days) and smashed it onto Narantak's head. Blood, guts, and grey matter splattered all over the carriage, and Angad quickly jumped off before his clothes were soiled again and he had to visit Jal to clean them. Rubbing his eyes, he paused for a moment, before grabbing his mace and running off into the distance, his shadow fading into the rising dust.

-----O-----

Though one of the six were already dead, and only five remained, only five versus all the mighty generals of the vanar sena, those five were mighty. They killed, so easily, any and all of the monkeys who ventured even ten feet close to them. They were like machines, machines with nothing but bloodthirst embedded into their code, fastened in their brains, and they were like weapons of destruction, they were like men with no hearts.

It was as if the wounds which covered their body did not touch their souls or prowess. Even Sugriv, who usually clenched his jaw and refused to acknowledge the enemy, had to admit, ever silently, that these highly trained warriors, stealthy and brutal like ninjas, were something otherworldly. If not from heaven, then from the world underneath them known as hell. For all rakshasas were from there weren't they? And these beings, ruthless upon the battlefield, were nothing if they weren't demons.

It was as if they had never possessed any moral compass, as if they knew nothing at all about conscience. From the very beginning, from the very moment they entered the Earth, they must have been handed a cleaver or a club, kicking and screaming, they must have killed the nursemaid and bowed at their father's feet, shining not with excellence or divinity, but with the blood of the men they had killed, glistening with red, and dripping with rage and thirst, ever hungry for attention and validity from the only man that mattered.

They were the princes of Lanka. They were the progeny of the greatest rakshas that ever lived. They were the sons of Ravan. And they craved blood.

-----O-----

But they were not to quench their thirst as easily as they had hoped. Sugriv, quickly recovering from his moment of stuttering awe, crossed his arms across his chest and bared his teeth angrily. "They kill our men, pick them off like ants, and I just watch like an incompetent nincompoop?" he roared, and Vibhishan jumped, spilling his tea and wiping it off hastily as Angad clapped a hand on his mouth before he could let out an offended stutter. "GO!"

Though he had not addressed anyone directly, the three monkeys whom he had spoken to knew exactly who it was he was talking about, and bowed in front of him. Hanuman grabbe his mace, Neel simply flexed his arms, and Rishabha, a hardened army general who led one of their strictest (or at least brutalest) legions picked up nothing but a sharpened wooden stake, making Vibhishan gulp and just take another long sip of his tea.

As they were only born for this job, helper monkeys ran forward, holding materials as if they were messengers bearing gifts. One clapped a protective armlet around Hanuman's arm, where he had been struck by Ravan before, and where a long, thin white scar ran, to prevent it from being opened and infected. For Rishabha, it was simply a pair of boots to protect his feet from the blood and pebbles. Running up, with a sharp eye, Jal quickly fixed the rip in Neel's shirt with some steel wool, to prevent the armow from ripping, and making his chest vulnerably bare.

Like spirits sent straight from heaven to warrant a painful death, these three generals of Sugriv rushed down upon Earth as thunder and lightning clashed with each other upon the thin border between sky and earth. They hovered above the war, watching for merely a moment before they each went their separate ways, dangerously tracking the sons of Ravan. If they waited more than a single moment, then hundreds more would be killed. They could not do that. They would not do that.

First, it was Hanuman and Devantak. Hanuman was quick to find the tobacco chewing demon as he sent hundreds of monkeys flying in a chain reaction with only a single blow with his mace. The smell of tomacco wafted through the air, and much like a trail of breadcrumbs, sticky pieces of the deep green leaf, lying on the ground like wads, just meant for Hanuman to use, lead up right to the son of Dhanyamalini.

Hanuman hovered right behind him, as Devantak swung his mace in the air again, causing a gust of wind so powerful that monkeys were swept away with only a single raise of his weapon. But Hanuman was better, and with one great blow, he hit Devantak's head, and the rakshas collapsed to his knees, touching his throbbing temple, and gagging, as if ready to throw up right there on the battlefield.

Snarling, Hanuman readied to hit again, swinging his mace once more, relishing the sound it made as it hit the rakshasa's head with a sound thump! Devantak rubbed his head again, but this time, he did not wait to be hit again. With great effort, he stood up as Hanuman finally landed on the ground from his advantageous place hovering in the air, looming over the rakshas like a mountain.

But Hanuman did not stop, and this time as he hit Devantak's head, a loud crack echoed throughout the field of war. Devantak stumbled, his eyes wide, but just to be sure, as he walked around, tripping over his own feet, Hanuman hit him three more times, three sickening more hits right to the forehead, before Devantak finally fell, coughing up blood and gagging, rolling over the on the ground before finally laying still. No one could make the prince move again. Six blows to the head did it. Just as many as there were princes on the battlefield. Two down, four to go.

-----O-----

Neel, proud of his newly stitched armor and ready to put Jal's work into good use, had found a sound (but not quite an equal) opponent in Yuddomanta. Yuddhomanta only had a mind for war, hence his name, and Neel, thankfully, was not just the same, but even without putting his entire mind to it, he quickly did the job, refusing to dilly dally or remain idle any further. He flew down to where Yuddomanta stood, crossing his arms as heaps and mountains of monkeys lay around him, dead.

"Hey!" the rakshas roared. "I have had enough of fighting just these mere monkeys who can do me no harm! Send someone else, would you, you cowardly king? Send someone who can actually beat me! They won't, of course!" And with that, Yuddomanta flexed his arms proudly, a gagging sort of smile spreading across his face with made Neel want to barf. What made him not? The words Yuddomanta uttered.

"The so-called cowardly king has sent me!" he shouted, his voice rattling the entire field, and before Yuddomanta could even turn around, Angad had wrapped his long and sturdy arms around the rakshasa's magnificent and most fat (almost nonexistent) neck, and squeezed tightly, blocking the air pipe, and thus his life source ruthlessly, his eyes narrowing almost dangerously. "What say you now, rakshas?"

Yuddomanta could not say anything, as his face turned steadily purple. His dark skin tinted blue as he stuck his tongue out hopelessly, begging for some air. He tapped Neel's arms multiple times, hoping for mercy, but Neel did not loosen, because he knew, the moment he released, the rakshas prince would be out to get him again, and no element of surprise would exist then, just two battles of might.

Clawing hopefully at the vanar's arms, Yuddomanta tried to pry his hands off, to sneak a finger next to his neck for some breathing room. He got none, and after a few seconds of immobility, the life escaped Yuddomanta's limp body, the light and sparkle diminishing in this son of Ravan's eyes. Neel let go, letting the body collapse onto the ground before roaring loudly, and receiving a loud roar in return from the monkey army.

Three down. Three to go. There were only three left. Sad, that these three had to be the most powerful of Ravan's sons (not considering Indrajit). The vanar sena had a tough challenge out for them. But they were halfway done. And that was all that mattered, in that moment.

Bonus Scene

Ram coughed as he watched the three vanar generals escape from the confines of the tent and into the war, where they had helped so many, freed so many rakshasas of their lives. he glanced at Lakshman, beside him, who had, remarkably, not asked to go into war for days now! Ram was proud of him, for sure, but now there was a more trying question that he just had to ask. He coughed again. "So, I take it, a lot of you can fly then?"

The vanar sena, the ones who remained in the tent, shifted from foot to foot. Glances were exchanged as Vibhishan, with trembling fingers, still dutifully keeping one eye on the battlefield, set his tea down and looked around. Sugriv smiled nervously, scratching the back of his head. "I'll take that," Ram sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head as if wondering what he had done to deserve this, "-as a yes."

A/N-Holaaaa! Phew! No worries, the other three will die in the next chapter for sure! I cannot stretch a battle that long, it is only the pre and post battle which I can convert into thousands of chapters. But congrats guys, I at least killed off someone in this chapter! Thank goodness, there's some hope left for me!