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Metamorphosis: From Dretch to Demon Lord - Ascension Released!
- Thread starter BLACKDIRGE
- Start date
Mortepierre
First Post
BLACKDIRGE said:
Blackdirge, a big thank you for that post. It was actually the deciding factor when I debated whether or not to start my own SH
And now.. MORE ABYSSAL-FIENDISHNESS please!!!
BLACKDIRGE
Adventurer
I am working on it, I promise. I am trying to decide on which way to take the story, and what I have written so far is about half an update. Look for a new installment in the next week or two.
Dirge
Dirge
Mortepierre
First Post
Sep posting soon. Blackdirge posting soon. This is starting to feel like Christmas!
BLACKDIRGE
Adventurer
Howdy all, I guess four months is long enough to wait for an update.
Anyway, this installment kind of wraps up the story arc for the first part of the Metamorphosis, the death of Pyrak and the ascension of Hedrenatherax. Hazergal has kind of taken a back seat to all the demonic fun, but will have lots more to do in forthcoming updates.
I hope it was worth the wait.
Blackdirge
Part XVII
Hazergal stared at the four gray walls of his cell, enjoying the tomb-like silence that reigned here in the under halls of Gemnez Drak. He sat upon the floor, the long spindly limbs of his babau body wrapped about him in an odd multi-jointed embrace. The door to Hazergal’s cell stood open, flung wide when the great bloated devil Gemnez had fled to Pyrak's floating citadel in the company of the savage balor Hedrenatherax. Hazergal eyed the open door, considered getting up and fleeing himself, as he had done a dozen times in the endless hours since Gemnez’s departure. But, each time his mind lingered upon the prospect of escape, he was brought back to what that open door truly stood for. There was no freedom to be found beyond, only the grim lightless halls of Gemnez Drak, and the ever-oppressive weight of the unknown. No matter how much the beckoning aperture promised freedom, Hazergal knew that he would find only further misery once he crossed the threshold. No, he would stay here, wait for Gemnez to return, and accept whatever mercy the fat fiend would offer.
At least there was no fear to be found in the tired silence of his resignation, he had left that useless weight tied to his corpse back in Vaasa. He did however, maintain the small hope that this nightmare, which had started the moment Nithrekel’s blade had ended his former life, might finally come to an end. Be it harbinger or gilded omen, he had found some sense of peace, he would either live on or be destroyed, it was that simple. He firmly believed that a second death would result in quiet oblivion, and he would accept the void, if it came to that, most effortlessly.
Hazergal’s disagreeable situation had not, however, driven the mage he had once been from his personality fully. He could not deny his fascination with his bodily transformation, or the near godlike magic that ached to pour forth at every opportunity. There was purpose behind this, he was sure of it, but what or who could be driving his anomalous fate was well beyond his feeble grasp of the situation, and this only compounded his anger and frustration. Questions, all but unanswerable, sprang to mind. Was he to be a demon lord? A demigod? Whatever the final outcome, it was enough to spur Gemnez to furious action, as if the rogue baatezu had been waiting for his arrival, perhaps even foreseen it. As far as Hazergal knew, only Gemnez, Hedrenatherax and the demon lord Pyrak had any knowledge of his unique talents. Pyrak had shown little interest in Hazergal, but Hedrenatherax had been on the receiving end of the former archmage’s wild magic twice, and would gladly tear him limb from limb if there were not more pressing matters to garner the balor’s attention, namely the assassination of his liege and the usurpation of his throne.
The confrontation between Pyrak and Hedrenatherax could work to Hazergal’s benefit, as he had little doubt that Pyrak, even in his weakened state, would crush the upstart balor, and in doing so remove the former archmage’s most eminent threat. If, however, Hedrenatherax managed to overcome Pyrak, Hazergal knew that the usurping balor would most certainly seek to avenge his past humiliations, and would now possess the resources to do so. All in all Hazergal could do little to guide his own destiny, he could not fight the entire abyss, and eventually his peculiar ability would bring the whole plane howling down upon him.
The limitless arcane might locked within his brain offered Hazergal little security, he had little doubt that he could decimate an army of fiends, even Gemnez or Hedrenatherax if he put any real effort into it, but that would earn him little more than further misery. Even if were to overcome the hordes of demons that would certainly seek to destroy him, he had no desire to rule upon this blighted plane, he had enough of sovereignty back on the prime material to last a thousand lifetimes.
In truth it was Gemnez who held Hazergal, not with chains, or prison cells, but with the barest whisper of hope that the rogue baatezu might offer some respite from the madness his existence had become. The great devil was obviously fascinated with Hazergal’s strange abilities, and no doubt had conceived of a way to use the former archmage to better his own position. This he could he live with, for he was fascinated with the rogue baatezu and his strange, almost kindly demeanor. There was far more to Gemnez that any gave him credit for, and Hazergal had a feeling that the devil would play a large part in whatever fate befell him.
It seemed days had passed since Gemnez had left, but this was not disconcerting to Hazergal, time was notoriously dubious in the abyss, and seemed to stretch or compact at whim. The heavy tread of Gemnez’s ponderous feet thumping down the hall towards Hazergal’s cell seemed to snap time back into its rightful flow, and as the huge baatezu squeezed his bulk through the narrow cell door, it was plain to see that he was not pleased.
“Pyrak is dead.” Gemnez spat, the words almost gagging him. “That great lumbering fool Hedrenatherax has become the newest pet of fate, and now sits upon the throne.”
“How did this happen, I thought Pyrak was the stronger?” Hazergal said, a wave of despair washing over him.
Gemnez sighed deeply, a torrent of frustration and perhaps even remorse, rushing out in the single exhalation. “Fate, my friend. Fate and whatever lunacy controls this blasted plane.” The rogue devil scowled deeply. “I cannot explain this, but I know that there are forces beyond my understanding, forces that are manipulating this twisted skein of fate, and you and I along with it.”
“If Hedrenatherax has usurped Pyrak’s power, then will he not come looking for me?” Hazergal asked quietly.
Gemnez smiled wide, his eyes crackling with sarcastic mirth. “Well, I will say this, Hedrenatherax’s ascension has not sharpened his wits. He is so glutted with power and self importance at the moment, that I think he has forgotten all about you.” The huge devil laughed. “But his stupor will not last, and the defeats you have dealt him in the past will surely haunt him, and he will seek to keep them from becoming public knowledge.”
“Then what is to become of me? Of you?” Hazergal asked quietly.
Gemnez’s great flabby lips, painted a garish red, came together in a hideous smile. “You, my strange friend, shall remain here, while we do all we can to delude our new leader that you are, in fact, dead.”
“Dead?” Hazergal scowled, stepping back against the far wall of his cell, a dozen lethal spells springing to the fore of his mind.
Gemnez saw Hazergal’s reaction, and twisted his monstrous face into a very believable pout. “Come now, Hazergal, if I wished you dead, would I have come her alone and unprepared?” The devil asked. “In truth, I doubt that I would be able to best you in such a confrontation, but I assure you it will not come to that. You and I need one another, you need my ample resources and influence to remain hidden, and I need to see a fundamental change in the order of the abyss, a change which I believe you represent.”
Hazergal relaxed and slid down the wall to sit with his back propped against it. “The abyss has not changed since the dawn of time, why do you think I could have any lasting impact on the order of such a place as this.”
“Because, in countless millennia, you are the only faithless petitioner to retain his memories and former abilities. What’s more, I have witnessed what you are capable of and I think you have only scratched the surface of your potential.” Gemnez’s eyes were filled with passion, and it was plain to see that he believed every word he had spoken.
“Have you considered that I have no desire to change the abyss, that I have no desire to be here at all?” Hazergal asked pointedly.
“Of course you do not want to be here!” Gemnez spat, ire creeping into he words. “What mortal since the dawn of time has wanted to end up in the abyss? Your own desires are nothing, they do not hold a candle to the sleeping giant within you, and regardless of what you want, what slumbers within will awaken, and neither you nor I can halt the course of that fate.”
“Do you think I want to rule here, to govern a layer of the abyss like one of these puling demon lords?!” Hazergal shouted, climbing to his feet. “The only reason I am here is owed to the simple fact that I failed as a sovereign, I could not control even my most trusted of lieutenants.” Nithrekel face loomed, and Hazergal wondered if Pyrak had felt the same bitter twist of fate when Hedrenatherax had ended the demon lord’s life.
“Ahh, there it is.” Gemnez whispered sarcastically. “The ridiculous mortal concept of free will and choice.” The devil’s voice dripped with contempt. “Do you think if you had been a better ruler that events would have unfolded differently?”
“Of course!” Hazergal barked. “If I had foreseen Nithrekel’s betrayal than I could have taken steps to prevent it, and by doing so avoided my own death, and the gods forsaken events that have led to this conversation.”
Gemnez chuckled mirthlessly. “Then you have no idea how the universe truly works. No matter what you might have changed in your past life it would not have mattered. Anything you could have done differently would still result in you standing before me, here in Gemnez Drak, whining about choice. It is fate, simple and pure, and there is no way to avoid it.”
“How can you know this? How can you be so sure?” Hazergal asked, stabbing one spindly finger at Gemnez.
“Because I have seen things on both the abyss and the nine hells that you could scarcely imagination, armies of celestials swarming the skies of Avernus in a fruitless attempt to rest control of Baator away from its masters. Hordes of demons crashing into the arrayed phalanxes of devils in a pointless confrontation that benefits neither side, made all the more idiotic in that neither the abyss nor Baator has learned a single thing in millions of similar conflicts. All of this I have seen, and the one thing I have taken away from all of this lunacy, is that the universe operates in a state of balance, giving no philosophical concept, be it chaos or law, or even the antiquated notions of good and evil, the power to overthrow the others.” Gemnez paused and smiled, reveling in the crux of his argument. “There is no choice in any of this, we do what we are made to do. You, me, Pyrak and even that great oaf Hedrenatherax, we are all pawns in a game where the ultimate conclusion has been predetermined.”
“Then why try to change things? Why even pretend that you or me, or anyone can change what has already been ordained?”
“Because, the universe has grown stale, the foundation is cracking, and it is time for a new order.” Gemnez leaned close. “And I believe, that every few eons, there are some that do have a choice, that do have the ability to guide fate.”
“You mean me, of course.” Hazergal said venomously, turning away from the rancid stench of Gemnez’s breath.
“Yes you, and I.” The devil whispered. “While you could never alter the events that brought you’re here, for they were set into motion long before your existence, you can choose what happens now. There is no doubt that the threads of this peculiar fate push us in one inexorable direction, but you and I alone can see behind the curtain and divine the complicated workings of destiny, mold it, shape it to our wills.”
“But for what purpose? Why was I chosen?” Hazergal asked.
Gemnez shrugged his massive shoulders. “Who can say? In the end it doesn’t matter, you cannot change it, you can only embrace and accept your fate, master it, and become what you are meant to be.”
Hazergal sat down again, wrapping his limbs about his body. “It seems I have little choice, regardless of any of your philosophical gibberish. I either trust you, or be destroyed by Hedrenatherax and his minions.”
“Well, that’s simplifying it a bit, but true nonetheless.” Gemnez squeezed his bulk through the cell door, and motioned Hazergal to follow. “There will be time later to discuss all of this in detail, but now we must hurry.”
Hazergal got up and followed Gemnez from his cell. “What are you planning, Gemnez?” He asked as he followed the great devil through the darkened tunnels below Gemnez Drak.
“Why, to hide you of course?” The paeliryon answered over his shoulder.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“You will see.” Gemnez replied. “Trust me.”
Unsatisfied, but with little choice other than to trust Gemnez, Hazergal fell silent and followed the great bloated devil.
They reached the upper levels of Gemnez’s fortress, and made their way out into the horrific courtyard that served as a visitor’s first full look at the inner sanctum of Gemnez Drak. Contained by looming walls of dark stone and carpeted with the bleached bones of demons, devils and other unrecognizable creatures, the courtyard spoke of death, brutality and endless torture. They emerged into the sickly green light of an abyssal day, and Hazergal realized that they were not alone. Uzog, Gemnez’s mammoth goristro servant, awaited behind a trio of vrocks, watching idly as the winged demons paced in agitation, their heavy tread crunching audibly with each step as they ground the osseous carpeting to powder. When they caught sight of Gemnez and Hazergal they burst into a screeching tirade.
“Is this what you have promised us, Gemnez?’ The largest of the vrocks screeched. ”This is the one that Hedrenatherax wants?”
Hazergal stopped and stared aghast at Gemnez, cursing himself for not expecting just such a betrayal. The huge devil merely winked, and Hazergal heard the devil’s voice in his thoughts. Calm yourself. All is well.
Gemnez suddenly grabbed Hazergal about the shoulders with two flabby paws, holding him tight with irresistible strength. “Yes, this is the babau lord Hedrenatherax desires, it will make a fine gift from his loyal servants, a gift that will certainly earn an even greater reward.”
“Then hand him over, fat one. I can only tolerate your odiferous presence for so long.” The lead vrock croaked and stepped forward, talons extended to grasp his prize.
Hazergal did not struggle against Gemnez’s grip, and he found that his mind was quiet, preparing to unleash a torrent of magical hell on everyone in the courtyard.
No! Hazergal heard Gemnez voice echo in his mind. Do nothing. I have not betrayed you. To further illustrate his last statement Gemnez glanced at Uzog, where the huge demon leaned on an iron maul. “Uzog. Now” The devil said quietly, and then the courtyard exploded into furious violence. Nearly twenty-five feet tall, Uzog was large even for a goristro, and when his maul came crashing down upon the first vrock, there was little left but pulped flesh and feathers.
“Treachery!” The big vrock that had sought to claim Hazergal shouted, and leapt forward, beak agape. Hazergal felt Gemnez’s grip on his shoulders slacken, and a spell rolled of his tongue in a liquid slur of blasphemous muttering. The spell was one that Hazergal had been fond of in his former life and required use of the dark speech, a blasphemous tongue known only to those who practiced the foulest of magic. Its effect was horrific and instantaneous, the charging vrock suddenly stopped its forward momentum, pain clouding its avian features, talons clutching its abdomen, which was rapidly distending, inflating like an air bladder, giving the demon a ridiculous bloated look. The vrock loosed one long agonized shriek before its belly burst, spraying blood and viscera in all directions. The rupture contained enough force to propel the demon backwards to collapse in its own stinking gore, dead before its body touched the earth.
Gemnez looked down at Hazergal, smiling in mild amusement. “I must confess, in all my years, I have never seen that spell before. Quite effective though it is.”
Hazergal did not reply. He was preparing another spell to dispatch the remaining vrock, but soon saw there was no need. The hollow metallic thud of Uzog’s maul resounded through the courtyard, and the corpse of the final vrock hurdled over their heads to crash lifeless into the black stone wall of Gemnez Drak.
“Well done, Uzog.” Gemnez said to the hulking bull headed demon. “Now, gather the bodies.” The goristro loosed a thick grunt in reply and then set about collecting the shattered corpses of the three vrocks, these he piled in a stinking heap of blood and feathers before Gemnez.
“Am I to hide beneath their carcasses?” Hazergal asked sarcastically.
“Of course not, you are to consume them. I believe that is how you affected your last transformation.” Gemnez answered, ignoring Hazergal’s flippant tone.
“How can you know this?” Hazergal asked, his voice heavy with shame.
“Because the babau you destroyed after your initial flight from Gemnez Drak were found without their hearts, and as you now must certainly know, a demon’s essence, its life force is contained within its heart.” Gemnez pointed out matter-of-factly.
“I cannot do this…again.” Hazergal whispered. He remembered vividly the three babau he had slain shortly after his transformation into a dretch. Once the demons had been killed, he was overcome with an insatiable hunger, a need to absorb them, to make their vital energy his own. He has clawed his way through the corpse of each babau, ripping the heart free and devouring it with the greed of a hungry beggar.
“Oh come now, don’t get squeamish on me.” Gemnez chided, his monstrous face contorting in a scowl. “What about the two vrocks you slew upon the planes of Vrack? You consumed them as well.”
Hazergal had ceased to be amazed at Gemnez’s store of information, how he had come to know about the two vrocks was beyond comprehension, but certainly not surprising. The vrocks he had slain in his flight had also been absorbed, but had not triggered a transformation. Gemnez’s ghoulish assumption that the essence of three slain demons in the courtyard would be enough to fuel another change was probably right, but still he was loathe to do it. With each new form he had lost some of himself, as if the demonic flesh that housed his mind and soul was slowly eating away at his humanity. But there was little doubt that his fate, so painfully described by Gemnez, lay there, in the shattered corpses of the three vrocks.
Hazergal felt the air thicken around him, sounds became muffled, and the very weight of the virulent green sky seemed to press down upon him. He felt the threads of fate unravel, felt the implacable embrace of predestiny slacken, and he knew that the choice he made here was his and his alone. Despite his dreams of emptiness, despite all his longing for an end to the nightmare in which he had unwittingly been cast as a major player, the desire for continued existence lingered, and it spurred his mind to action.
Hazergal walked slowly toward the tangled jumble of vrock corpses, falling to his knees before the great stinking pile of demonic flesh. He cast one long sorrowful look back at Gemnez, whose wide reptilian features held nothing but stolid determination, and then, with the slow resignation of the damned, Hazergal began to feed.
Anyway, this installment kind of wraps up the story arc for the first part of the Metamorphosis, the death of Pyrak and the ascension of Hedrenatherax. Hazergal has kind of taken a back seat to all the demonic fun, but will have lots more to do in forthcoming updates.
I hope it was worth the wait.
Blackdirge
_________________________________________________________________
Part XVII
Hazergal stared at the four gray walls of his cell, enjoying the tomb-like silence that reigned here in the under halls of Gemnez Drak. He sat upon the floor, the long spindly limbs of his babau body wrapped about him in an odd multi-jointed embrace. The door to Hazergal’s cell stood open, flung wide when the great bloated devil Gemnez had fled to Pyrak's floating citadel in the company of the savage balor Hedrenatherax. Hazergal eyed the open door, considered getting up and fleeing himself, as he had done a dozen times in the endless hours since Gemnez’s departure. But, each time his mind lingered upon the prospect of escape, he was brought back to what that open door truly stood for. There was no freedom to be found beyond, only the grim lightless halls of Gemnez Drak, and the ever-oppressive weight of the unknown. No matter how much the beckoning aperture promised freedom, Hazergal knew that he would find only further misery once he crossed the threshold. No, he would stay here, wait for Gemnez to return, and accept whatever mercy the fat fiend would offer.
At least there was no fear to be found in the tired silence of his resignation, he had left that useless weight tied to his corpse back in Vaasa. He did however, maintain the small hope that this nightmare, which had started the moment Nithrekel’s blade had ended his former life, might finally come to an end. Be it harbinger or gilded omen, he had found some sense of peace, he would either live on or be destroyed, it was that simple. He firmly believed that a second death would result in quiet oblivion, and he would accept the void, if it came to that, most effortlessly.
Hazergal’s disagreeable situation had not, however, driven the mage he had once been from his personality fully. He could not deny his fascination with his bodily transformation, or the near godlike magic that ached to pour forth at every opportunity. There was purpose behind this, he was sure of it, but what or who could be driving his anomalous fate was well beyond his feeble grasp of the situation, and this only compounded his anger and frustration. Questions, all but unanswerable, sprang to mind. Was he to be a demon lord? A demigod? Whatever the final outcome, it was enough to spur Gemnez to furious action, as if the rogue baatezu had been waiting for his arrival, perhaps even foreseen it. As far as Hazergal knew, only Gemnez, Hedrenatherax and the demon lord Pyrak had any knowledge of his unique talents. Pyrak had shown little interest in Hazergal, but Hedrenatherax had been on the receiving end of the former archmage’s wild magic twice, and would gladly tear him limb from limb if there were not more pressing matters to garner the balor’s attention, namely the assassination of his liege and the usurpation of his throne.
The confrontation between Pyrak and Hedrenatherax could work to Hazergal’s benefit, as he had little doubt that Pyrak, even in his weakened state, would crush the upstart balor, and in doing so remove the former archmage’s most eminent threat. If, however, Hedrenatherax managed to overcome Pyrak, Hazergal knew that the usurping balor would most certainly seek to avenge his past humiliations, and would now possess the resources to do so. All in all Hazergal could do little to guide his own destiny, he could not fight the entire abyss, and eventually his peculiar ability would bring the whole plane howling down upon him.
The limitless arcane might locked within his brain offered Hazergal little security, he had little doubt that he could decimate an army of fiends, even Gemnez or Hedrenatherax if he put any real effort into it, but that would earn him little more than further misery. Even if were to overcome the hordes of demons that would certainly seek to destroy him, he had no desire to rule upon this blighted plane, he had enough of sovereignty back on the prime material to last a thousand lifetimes.
In truth it was Gemnez who held Hazergal, not with chains, or prison cells, but with the barest whisper of hope that the rogue baatezu might offer some respite from the madness his existence had become. The great devil was obviously fascinated with Hazergal’s strange abilities, and no doubt had conceived of a way to use the former archmage to better his own position. This he could he live with, for he was fascinated with the rogue baatezu and his strange, almost kindly demeanor. There was far more to Gemnez that any gave him credit for, and Hazergal had a feeling that the devil would play a large part in whatever fate befell him.
It seemed days had passed since Gemnez had left, but this was not disconcerting to Hazergal, time was notoriously dubious in the abyss, and seemed to stretch or compact at whim. The heavy tread of Gemnez’s ponderous feet thumping down the hall towards Hazergal’s cell seemed to snap time back into its rightful flow, and as the huge baatezu squeezed his bulk through the narrow cell door, it was plain to see that he was not pleased.
“Pyrak is dead.” Gemnez spat, the words almost gagging him. “That great lumbering fool Hedrenatherax has become the newest pet of fate, and now sits upon the throne.”
“How did this happen, I thought Pyrak was the stronger?” Hazergal said, a wave of despair washing over him.
Gemnez sighed deeply, a torrent of frustration and perhaps even remorse, rushing out in the single exhalation. “Fate, my friend. Fate and whatever lunacy controls this blasted plane.” The rogue devil scowled deeply. “I cannot explain this, but I know that there are forces beyond my understanding, forces that are manipulating this twisted skein of fate, and you and I along with it.”
“If Hedrenatherax has usurped Pyrak’s power, then will he not come looking for me?” Hazergal asked quietly.
Gemnez smiled wide, his eyes crackling with sarcastic mirth. “Well, I will say this, Hedrenatherax’s ascension has not sharpened his wits. He is so glutted with power and self importance at the moment, that I think he has forgotten all about you.” The huge devil laughed. “But his stupor will not last, and the defeats you have dealt him in the past will surely haunt him, and he will seek to keep them from becoming public knowledge.”
“Then what is to become of me? Of you?” Hazergal asked quietly.
Gemnez’s great flabby lips, painted a garish red, came together in a hideous smile. “You, my strange friend, shall remain here, while we do all we can to delude our new leader that you are, in fact, dead.”
“Dead?” Hazergal scowled, stepping back against the far wall of his cell, a dozen lethal spells springing to the fore of his mind.
Gemnez saw Hazergal’s reaction, and twisted his monstrous face into a very believable pout. “Come now, Hazergal, if I wished you dead, would I have come her alone and unprepared?” The devil asked. “In truth, I doubt that I would be able to best you in such a confrontation, but I assure you it will not come to that. You and I need one another, you need my ample resources and influence to remain hidden, and I need to see a fundamental change in the order of the abyss, a change which I believe you represent.”
Hazergal relaxed and slid down the wall to sit with his back propped against it. “The abyss has not changed since the dawn of time, why do you think I could have any lasting impact on the order of such a place as this.”
“Because, in countless millennia, you are the only faithless petitioner to retain his memories and former abilities. What’s more, I have witnessed what you are capable of and I think you have only scratched the surface of your potential.” Gemnez’s eyes were filled with passion, and it was plain to see that he believed every word he had spoken.
“Have you considered that I have no desire to change the abyss, that I have no desire to be here at all?” Hazergal asked pointedly.
“Of course you do not want to be here!” Gemnez spat, ire creeping into he words. “What mortal since the dawn of time has wanted to end up in the abyss? Your own desires are nothing, they do not hold a candle to the sleeping giant within you, and regardless of what you want, what slumbers within will awaken, and neither you nor I can halt the course of that fate.”
“Do you think I want to rule here, to govern a layer of the abyss like one of these puling demon lords?!” Hazergal shouted, climbing to his feet. “The only reason I am here is owed to the simple fact that I failed as a sovereign, I could not control even my most trusted of lieutenants.” Nithrekel face loomed, and Hazergal wondered if Pyrak had felt the same bitter twist of fate when Hedrenatherax had ended the demon lord’s life.
“Ahh, there it is.” Gemnez whispered sarcastically. “The ridiculous mortal concept of free will and choice.” The devil’s voice dripped with contempt. “Do you think if you had been a better ruler that events would have unfolded differently?”
“Of course!” Hazergal barked. “If I had foreseen Nithrekel’s betrayal than I could have taken steps to prevent it, and by doing so avoided my own death, and the gods forsaken events that have led to this conversation.”
Gemnez chuckled mirthlessly. “Then you have no idea how the universe truly works. No matter what you might have changed in your past life it would not have mattered. Anything you could have done differently would still result in you standing before me, here in Gemnez Drak, whining about choice. It is fate, simple and pure, and there is no way to avoid it.”
“How can you know this? How can you be so sure?” Hazergal asked, stabbing one spindly finger at Gemnez.
“Because I have seen things on both the abyss and the nine hells that you could scarcely imagination, armies of celestials swarming the skies of Avernus in a fruitless attempt to rest control of Baator away from its masters. Hordes of demons crashing into the arrayed phalanxes of devils in a pointless confrontation that benefits neither side, made all the more idiotic in that neither the abyss nor Baator has learned a single thing in millions of similar conflicts. All of this I have seen, and the one thing I have taken away from all of this lunacy, is that the universe operates in a state of balance, giving no philosophical concept, be it chaos or law, or even the antiquated notions of good and evil, the power to overthrow the others.” Gemnez paused and smiled, reveling in the crux of his argument. “There is no choice in any of this, we do what we are made to do. You, me, Pyrak and even that great oaf Hedrenatherax, we are all pawns in a game where the ultimate conclusion has been predetermined.”
“Then why try to change things? Why even pretend that you or me, or anyone can change what has already been ordained?”
“Because, the universe has grown stale, the foundation is cracking, and it is time for a new order.” Gemnez leaned close. “And I believe, that every few eons, there are some that do have a choice, that do have the ability to guide fate.”
“You mean me, of course.” Hazergal said venomously, turning away from the rancid stench of Gemnez’s breath.
“Yes you, and I.” The devil whispered. “While you could never alter the events that brought you’re here, for they were set into motion long before your existence, you can choose what happens now. There is no doubt that the threads of this peculiar fate push us in one inexorable direction, but you and I alone can see behind the curtain and divine the complicated workings of destiny, mold it, shape it to our wills.”
“But for what purpose? Why was I chosen?” Hazergal asked.
Gemnez shrugged his massive shoulders. “Who can say? In the end it doesn’t matter, you cannot change it, you can only embrace and accept your fate, master it, and become what you are meant to be.”
Hazergal sat down again, wrapping his limbs about his body. “It seems I have little choice, regardless of any of your philosophical gibberish. I either trust you, or be destroyed by Hedrenatherax and his minions.”
“Well, that’s simplifying it a bit, but true nonetheless.” Gemnez squeezed his bulk through the cell door, and motioned Hazergal to follow. “There will be time later to discuss all of this in detail, but now we must hurry.”
Hazergal got up and followed Gemnez from his cell. “What are you planning, Gemnez?” He asked as he followed the great devil through the darkened tunnels below Gemnez Drak.
“Why, to hide you of course?” The paeliryon answered over his shoulder.
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“You will see.” Gemnez replied. “Trust me.”
Unsatisfied, but with little choice other than to trust Gemnez, Hazergal fell silent and followed the great bloated devil.
They reached the upper levels of Gemnez’s fortress, and made their way out into the horrific courtyard that served as a visitor’s first full look at the inner sanctum of Gemnez Drak. Contained by looming walls of dark stone and carpeted with the bleached bones of demons, devils and other unrecognizable creatures, the courtyard spoke of death, brutality and endless torture. They emerged into the sickly green light of an abyssal day, and Hazergal realized that they were not alone. Uzog, Gemnez’s mammoth goristro servant, awaited behind a trio of vrocks, watching idly as the winged demons paced in agitation, their heavy tread crunching audibly with each step as they ground the osseous carpeting to powder. When they caught sight of Gemnez and Hazergal they burst into a screeching tirade.
“Is this what you have promised us, Gemnez?’ The largest of the vrocks screeched. ”This is the one that Hedrenatherax wants?”
Hazergal stopped and stared aghast at Gemnez, cursing himself for not expecting just such a betrayal. The huge devil merely winked, and Hazergal heard the devil’s voice in his thoughts. Calm yourself. All is well.
Gemnez suddenly grabbed Hazergal about the shoulders with two flabby paws, holding him tight with irresistible strength. “Yes, this is the babau lord Hedrenatherax desires, it will make a fine gift from his loyal servants, a gift that will certainly earn an even greater reward.”
“Then hand him over, fat one. I can only tolerate your odiferous presence for so long.” The lead vrock croaked and stepped forward, talons extended to grasp his prize.
Hazergal did not struggle against Gemnez’s grip, and he found that his mind was quiet, preparing to unleash a torrent of magical hell on everyone in the courtyard.
No! Hazergal heard Gemnez voice echo in his mind. Do nothing. I have not betrayed you. To further illustrate his last statement Gemnez glanced at Uzog, where the huge demon leaned on an iron maul. “Uzog. Now” The devil said quietly, and then the courtyard exploded into furious violence. Nearly twenty-five feet tall, Uzog was large even for a goristro, and when his maul came crashing down upon the first vrock, there was little left but pulped flesh and feathers.
“Treachery!” The big vrock that had sought to claim Hazergal shouted, and leapt forward, beak agape. Hazergal felt Gemnez’s grip on his shoulders slacken, and a spell rolled of his tongue in a liquid slur of blasphemous muttering. The spell was one that Hazergal had been fond of in his former life and required use of the dark speech, a blasphemous tongue known only to those who practiced the foulest of magic. Its effect was horrific and instantaneous, the charging vrock suddenly stopped its forward momentum, pain clouding its avian features, talons clutching its abdomen, which was rapidly distending, inflating like an air bladder, giving the demon a ridiculous bloated look. The vrock loosed one long agonized shriek before its belly burst, spraying blood and viscera in all directions. The rupture contained enough force to propel the demon backwards to collapse in its own stinking gore, dead before its body touched the earth.
Gemnez looked down at Hazergal, smiling in mild amusement. “I must confess, in all my years, I have never seen that spell before. Quite effective though it is.”
Hazergal did not reply. He was preparing another spell to dispatch the remaining vrock, but soon saw there was no need. The hollow metallic thud of Uzog’s maul resounded through the courtyard, and the corpse of the final vrock hurdled over their heads to crash lifeless into the black stone wall of Gemnez Drak.
“Well done, Uzog.” Gemnez said to the hulking bull headed demon. “Now, gather the bodies.” The goristro loosed a thick grunt in reply and then set about collecting the shattered corpses of the three vrocks, these he piled in a stinking heap of blood and feathers before Gemnez.
“Am I to hide beneath their carcasses?” Hazergal asked sarcastically.
“Of course not, you are to consume them. I believe that is how you affected your last transformation.” Gemnez answered, ignoring Hazergal’s flippant tone.
“How can you know this?” Hazergal asked, his voice heavy with shame.
“Because the babau you destroyed after your initial flight from Gemnez Drak were found without their hearts, and as you now must certainly know, a demon’s essence, its life force is contained within its heart.” Gemnez pointed out matter-of-factly.
“I cannot do this…again.” Hazergal whispered. He remembered vividly the three babau he had slain shortly after his transformation into a dretch. Once the demons had been killed, he was overcome with an insatiable hunger, a need to absorb them, to make their vital energy his own. He has clawed his way through the corpse of each babau, ripping the heart free and devouring it with the greed of a hungry beggar.
“Oh come now, don’t get squeamish on me.” Gemnez chided, his monstrous face contorting in a scowl. “What about the two vrocks you slew upon the planes of Vrack? You consumed them as well.”
Hazergal had ceased to be amazed at Gemnez’s store of information, how he had come to know about the two vrocks was beyond comprehension, but certainly not surprising. The vrocks he had slain in his flight had also been absorbed, but had not triggered a transformation. Gemnez’s ghoulish assumption that the essence of three slain demons in the courtyard would be enough to fuel another change was probably right, but still he was loathe to do it. With each new form he had lost some of himself, as if the demonic flesh that housed his mind and soul was slowly eating away at his humanity. But there was little doubt that his fate, so painfully described by Gemnez, lay there, in the shattered corpses of the three vrocks.
Hazergal felt the air thicken around him, sounds became muffled, and the very weight of the virulent green sky seemed to press down upon him. He felt the threads of fate unravel, felt the implacable embrace of predestiny slacken, and he knew that the choice he made here was his and his alone. Despite his dreams of emptiness, despite all his longing for an end to the nightmare in which he had unwittingly been cast as a major player, the desire for continued existence lingered, and it spurred his mind to action.
Hazergal walked slowly toward the tangled jumble of vrock corpses, falling to his knees before the great stinking pile of demonic flesh. He cast one long sorrowful look back at Gemnez, whose wide reptilian features held nothing but stolid determination, and then, with the slow resignation of the damned, Hazergal began to feed.
John Q. Mayhem
Explorer
You are the bomb diggity, BLACKDIRGE.
Thomas Hobbes
First Post
John Q. Mayhem said:
Seconded. To use alternate veribiage:
That was wicked pissah.
Rikandur Azebol
First Post
Quoting a famous vampiress Claudia:
"I want more."
Blackdirge, I know that flattery is to low to describe true joy that Your story hours are giving to us ... Your faithful readers. I humbly ask You to continue this masterwork.
"I want more."
Blackdirge, I know that flattery is to low to describe true joy that Your story hours are giving to us ... Your faithful readers. I humbly ask You to continue this masterwork.
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