A site to behold.

Background info:
Spectre of Hope-
Thousands of creatures amass outside a gigantic fortress that dominates the surrounding landscape. Built into a massive volcanic mountain that continuously spews molten fire and thick ash, the black rock walls of this fortress are riddled with veins that pulse with the glow of magma as though alive.
The crown of each tower bristles with quasit swarms, overlooking the grounds with brooding malice. A gelatinous sickly green growth slowly spreads and inches its way over the lower reaches of the fortress, testing its surroundings with long stalks capable of spewing corrosive fluids with the intent of breaking down organic matter.
The tallest tower of the fortress rises from its heart and is wreathed in waves of black flame that lick its surface. These flames gather atop the main tower and obscure its tip from view in a huge ball of black flame.

Layer 444 - Broken Battletides A volcanic wasteland littered with the debris of heavy warfare, dotted with city ruins dominated by razorvine, riddled by fissures and smoldering craters, covered by shallow seas of burning tar and oil, overcast with clouds of acid rain and scoured by scalding tornados and dust storms filled with rust shards and thick ash.
The river styx crashes into the landscape from a fixed position above the clouds, drilling deep into a series of tall bluffs, to eventually pour into a large inland sea in the center of the layer. From there it drains down to the next layer in the form of a large maelstrom.
Grunts
Carnage demons
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/MM5_Gallery/106284.jpg
Bulezau
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/fc1_gallery/98443.jpg
Gnoll
http://blog.pierrickauger.fr/__oneclick_uploads/2008/04/gnoll.jpg
Juvenile Nabassu
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/dx0605ex_98460.jpg
　
Heavy Infantry
Bulezau
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/fc1_gallery/98443.jpg
Chasme
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/alumni_chasme_FC1.jpg
Ogre
http://vnmedia.ign.com/screenshots/warhammer/69622021.jpg
　
Calvary
Rutterkin
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/fc1_gallery/98465.jpg
Yochlol
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/mof_gallery/MonFaePG34.jpg
Trolls
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/FR_ART/People/Arrk.jpg
　
Lieutenants
Glabrezu
http://www.crsponseller.com/images/portfolio/glabrezu_sheet.jpg
Molydeus
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/alumni_molydeus_fc1.jpg
Kelvezu
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/mm2_gallery/88268_620_27.jpg
　

Inkling appears in his natural form on the four hundredth and fourty fourth layer of the abyss. A pitch black mass of hard cold flesh resembling a toad that stands over thirty feet tall, cuts a sharp contrast with the pale light given off by luminescent spring water nearby. This black slaad, accompanied by four death slaad, venture forth from the cavern in which they arrived and are greeted by a bleak barren landscape, strewn with large boulders and broken shards of obsidian.

As they walk towards the Spectre of Hope looming in the distance, Inkling causes the boulders and larger shards to stir to life, sweeping them to either side of their chosen path. They cross the threshold of the stronghold defenses when they step within six miles of it. Prevented from teleporting directly into or near the stronghold, they decide to make the journey on foot, taking the time to study the terrain and other natural phenomena.

The Epitaph of Progress sits at his throne within the center tower and is approached by one named Lassnich; which bows and says, "My lord... We have a visitor." The apocalyptic demon rises and bears his jagged teeth as he leans on the pit-fiend cane, then replies, "Let them in." The slaad are approached by many thrall; which they gesture to the formidable stronghold, but say nothing.

Inkling's company looks to him questiongly as nine chasemes and a small flock of quasits approach. Perching nearby, a few of the chasmes bow and beckon the slaadi onward, towards huge gates as they are thrust open from within by the sustained telekinetic force delivered by a particularly scruffy looking balor.

As the slaadi draw near, they notice the blood stained angel feathers tied to the balor's armbands. These quickly dispel any notions of unworthyness, leaving Inkling feeling satisfied at having been recieved by a being of sufficent station.

One of Inkling's death slaad steps forward, bowing to the balor. "My name is Venn'Gryd. Broodlord Inkling wishes to meet your master in private chambers... while the rest of our band make certain that the appropriate laboratory arrangements have been made."

The balor nods and as he does his massive wings span out, then fold back as he looks to the Slaad and replies, "I am Roctar... My master welcomes you to his home and assures you that all the proper measures have been taken. Things are...in order." The tanar'ri snorts loudly and sniffs lightly at the air and then says, "He's ready for you." He looks to the center tower and nods its way and with that the massive doors that bar any from entering are pulled up by two massive trolls; though, they are being whipped by a Glabrezu in the process.

"Good to hear, Roctar." Inkling steps forward into the vaulted foyer and seats himself on a large stone divan in the center of the room, upholstered with a rich lammasu hide. He instills a semblance of life into the divan and beckons it carry him deeper into the stronghold to meet Apocalist while he meditates.

Venn'Gryd and his other subordinates inquire as to the location of the laboratory and follow Roctar as they descend deeper into the stronghold while carrying the equipment. A will-o-wisp lights the way down dark steamy corridors.

They eventually reach a large circular lecture hall overlooking several examination tables adorned with shackles and suspended by chains over metal basins filled with a spongy orange fluid. A large hideous sibriex wearing a large harness of red spiked chains, hovers on the opposite side of the room. Ignoring them for some time, it examines a table filled with vial stands, beakers filled with various fluids, jars filled with paste and wicked looking tools. Three quasits lay sleeping to the left on the highest bench, backs against the wall. A maggot filled manes eats scraps off the floor to the right. The slaadi's impatience stands tempered with wariness.

"This will be my first time working with Inkling's subordinates," the sibriex says slowly without turning. "Your broodlord has worked with our kind for a very long time, long before Lord Apocalist disposed of his rivals to establish command of this entire layer. If Inkling has sent you, then I have confidence you will prove equal to the tasks ahead. I'll take them from here Roctar."

Venn'Gryd gestures for the others to deposit their goods on an empty table as Roctar departs with a derisive snort. "We have sixteen canisters of styxpsyradic powder for you to examine. I am Venn'Gryd, and the other three with me are Torgnar, Uju'Krem and Uju'Xyth."

Inkling arrives at a gate within the tower that is set aflame and overhead a continuous down pour of ash. A barrier ripples and then disperces, making a popping sound as it does and then the gate seperates. As it opens it reveals the demonlord atop his throne; which consist of various skulls, but the head rest is evident...a pit-fiend's head. The demon honors Inkling with his true form.

Info-
[Vile smoke, shadow and flame bluster from the fires of the deepest parts of the abyss as a creature that should not exist, and was hoped to be long forgotten, appears before you; Twelve feet in height at least, and of indiscernible weight. Time and space seem to fold in on this soul, generating an intense field that feels like one burns while falling into the nothingness that is beyond creation. Thick, armored skin of the blackest stone covers an incredibly muscular body, accented by veins of pure molten lava. Red eyes of pure fire unendingly burn with hatred and anger from a half rotten head above a gaping, cavernous doubled maw with two sets hideous teeth that look more like stalagmites and stalactites than anything and fold back into his doubled mouth when closed. A mass of constantly writhing, pitch black tentacles cover his head with more tentacles traveling down his back, all are in constant motion. A huge pair of inverted wings sprouts from his back, easily 30’ tip to tip when fully opened of smoldering black feathers that constantly emit the pungent smell of brimstone. Four arms attach to a massive torso in front of the wings… two arms as massive as the rest of him and ending in vicious pincers, and two smaller, upper arms with 6 fingered, taloned hands that radiate with constant fields of crackling, black and red energy. ( pm for more information ) Apocalist’s whip-like tail extends only four feet from his
being, ending in a fierce set of barbs. The skin on his massive legs appears to be even thicker than the rest and covered in fine spine-like hairs that glow brilliantly with a hideous amount of poison. Each step of his cloven hooves thunders the ground, often leaving cracks and burning any surface they touch. This creature, in any sense of the word, is a nightmare just to behold, so take great care not to be in his path, or wind up as food and fodder.]
<img src=http://s857.photobucket.com/albums/ab137/Yavesta/?action=view&current=demon2.jpg>

The creatures claws dig deep into the bloody skull that acts as the arm rest as both cavernous maws gape and he bears his impressive set of stalagtite and stalagmite like teeth. His tail slithers out from behind him, passing through the chair as if it were a thick fog and it sways dangerously next to the demon's great cranium. Apoc's pincers lay on his lap inert...for the time being.

Throne room- The ceiling is of fyre and spears; which collect rotting and decaying corpses of numerous creatures, though they do not crumble under the heat of the pyre. The floor is a layer of clear crystal that holds strong over a sea of molten rock.

Inkling disembarks from the divan. Standing a full thirty three feet in hieght, a stout toad-like humanoid shape with broad shoulders, gorilla-like arms and sleek black skin that seems to drink in the light like a black hole, his eyes glimmer like distant stars struggling to be seen. A few tendrils of thick fog and darkness play about his form, which looks otherwise unarmed. Though lacking outward signs of station nor imposing any supernatural presence at this time, its hard to keep from guessing when given seemingly too little.

"You keep a strong and fit fortress Apoc, with plenty of space below to hide all sorts of projects. However, it seems rather sparse in here right now, like you've bade most of your host to vacate... nothing too unusual going on I hope?"

The demon chuckles darkly and replies, "Unusual... Such a strange question to ask a demon. I see you expect an answer anyways...the answer is no. I thought you'd appretiate a quiet room to conduct business." As both his maws speak at once seperate voices emit and fyre spews from the depths of his cavernous mouths, drawing in what moister once existed in the air. His wings fan out and then he stands at his full height, though he's less then impressive to the Slaad's mass. The pincers snap at the floor and then pierce the crystal; which he then lifts himself up high and forward with the imbedded pincers, offering one of his six digit hands to the Slaad. Apoc says, "Finally... We meet formally. Now lets talk business.. These Slaad you wish to create...will our deal make it so I be permitted to use them or am I wasting my time by having you here, Inkling?"

Appreciated... I'm just as often curious as I am cautious, Inkling telepathically imparts in abyssal.

Peers at the display with an expression lost in the void of his form and slowly moves to shake apoc's hand by engulfing it in is own, soundlessly retracting a remarkably thin pair of bone claws protuding over the back of his hand before both hands are met.

We will each have our fill of new abyssborn slaad varieties. No doubt fights will break out among them and other demons on the layer, but we can use these to entertain and cull the weak. To start things off I have brought you egg pellets harvested from some derelict reds and some vials of slaad fever...

Inkling reaches into the void of his torso and withdraws a flat box of blue wood six inches deep and two feet on a side. Opening it for him, a rack of vials in padded slots as well as two dozen indiviudally wrapped egg pellets held in stasis are revealed.

...in exchange for some of your lesser minions and abyssal chaos derivitives harvested by those sibiriex you employ. No doubt we could each take from one another, but then the products would be less "pure".

I already sent the others who arrived with me down to the labs with the styxpsyradic powder. Together, given enough trials, we should soon come up with a few unique abominations worthy of breeding. If a viable process can be established, then perhaps with luck we may be able to soon identify, abduct and alter individuals that have already been adversely affected by the anomalous energies given off by the portal networks of the magi. If the mechanisms behind these energies could be assimilated in some way... the possibilities...