LuYangShih
First Post
This is written very well, as usual. Good job, though I still want to see the Hound Archon Paladin.
-
The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Metamorphosis: From Dretch to Demon Lord - Ascension Released!
- Thread starter BLACKDIRGE
- Start date
BLACKDIRGE
Adventurer
Heres the next update.
In this installment we will shift focus away from hazergal for a bit and see what the Demon Lord Pyrak has been up to.
Enjoy
*****************************************************
Pyrak leaned upon the hilt of his massive sword and cast his gaze across a scorched landscape of cracked earth and heat-baked rock. No sun hung overhead, but the hellish place was lit by a fierce reddish glow that cast deep shadows reminiscent of pools of thickening blood. Behind the demon lord a shimmering disc of multi colored light hung suspended in the dry heat choked air. The planar portal was large, easily large enough to allow Pyrak’s massive frame to fit through without stooping.
Alone for the moment Pyrak scanned the horizon for any sign of his enemy, for he stood upon the land of his most hated foe, Avernus the first layer of Baator, the very gates of Hell itself.
Behind Pyrak the harsh jangling of steel announced the arrival of his marilith general Heskara as the portal disgorged her serpentine body complete with battle harness and weapons. The demoness's beautiful features were hard and pinched; she was nervous and had good reason to be. The marilith had been tasked with leading this foray into Baator and it would be she that led the screaming hordes of demons to battle with their ancient enemies. Failure would not be tolerated, Pyrak had assured her of this, and if his words were not proof enough his recent actions certainly were. Pyrak had, a scant ten days ago, slain another general named Kugrot, a nalfashnee demon that had displeased him. The demon lord had cut Kugrot down at the foot of his throne while Heskara looked on, an unmistakable warning.
“It is empty, my lord,” Heskara remarked as she slithered up beside her liege.
Pyrak stared down at his serpentine general with a sneer. “It’s only empty because they don’t know we are here yet.”
Heskara looked up at Pyrak quizzically. “I am sorry my lord, I don’t understand.” The marilith questioned as meekly as she could. “Bel has this plane under constant surveillance, how could he not know we have arrived.”
Pyrak turned a black scowl upon his general, his eyes glowed momentarily with red rage at being questioned, but the mighty demon lord forced his anger into check and answered Heskara. “We have arrived in a null spot”, Pyrak remarked with a casual air, “ the only place in Avernus where the baatezu cannot see.”
Pyrak lifted his gaze across the scorched landscape, which remained empty of anything or anyone besides the two demons. “It seems that fat slug Gemnez has his uses after all.” Pyrak spoke aloud but more to himself than to his subordinate.
The huge demon lord suddenly turned to his marilith general, his eyes brimming with anticipation for what was to come. “Heskara!” He boomed. “Widen the gate and let them in!”
Heskara wasted no time in obeying her lord and slithered to the planar portal that currently measured roughly twenty feet in diameter. The demoness spread her six arms and began intoning the words to a spell. At the completion of the spell the shimmering outer circumference of the portal exploded outwards expanding to nearly ten time its size in a matter of seconds. From beyond the greatly enlarged portal a brash cacophony of bestial grunts and perverse muttering burst forth, followed closely by the near deafening sound of countless bodies moving forward.
Heskara slithered back to the side of Pyrak, who stood before the huge portal his greatsword now resting casually across his shoulder. A savage glee filled the demon lord as slowly the portal began to vomit forth a horde of demons of all shapes and sizes. From the lowliest dretch to the towering bull-headed goristroi, a seemingly endless stream of abominable creatures spewed out onto the infernal plane of Avernus.
After nearly an hour the final demon stepped through the portal and Heskara stood before a near endless mass of demons. Pyrak stood beside his general and surveyed his army; he felt fiendbleeder suddenly thrum to life in his grasp. The sword slithered into the demon lord’s mind with the ease of a long familiar lover. “A great horde, Pyrak” it purred into his thoughts. “Who shall lead it?”
Pyrak tried to push the sword from his mind; he knew that it did not approve of Heskara leading. The sword wished only Pyrak to lead and through him Fiendbleeder could exert its will over the forces of the abyss. The demon lord ignored the sword and he felt it laughing in the back of his mind, knowing full well that it could make him do whatever it wished. Fiendbleeder occasionally let Pyrak have his way, as it seemed to amuse the fiendish weapon. This was one of those times and Pyrak felt the sword slip from his consciousness with great relief.
“Today you shall witness a great victory over our hated foes” Pyrak heard Heskara call out over the assembled horde of demons. “Our great lord Pyrak has given us an opportunity to strike at the baatezu before they can assemble an army to oppose us. The slaughter will be grand and each of you shall glut your hatred in full.”
Heskara cast a quick glance at Pyrak, looking for any sign of the demon lord’s approval, but found nothing in his cold black gaze. “Now follow me, children of the abyss and I shall lead you to glory!” Heskara punctuated her last statement by drawing all six of her swords with a rasping steel hiss. Her bravado was not wasted and a fierce howl arose from the abyssal army in answer to her impassioned display.
Pyrak looked on bemused; their anonymity would not last, for a force as large as this one could not go undetected for long. Pyrak was certain he would face an infernal army before this campaign was done. He watched Heskara continue her impassioned oratory noting her boldness and wondering if her actions would measure up to her words. The great demon lord felt fiendbleeder’s presence suddenly pushing softly at the back of his mind and he tightened his grip around the hilt of the massive sword. No, he thought. This shall be mine, not yours. Pyrak seethed. He bolstered his resolve against the inevitable push of the swords dominant will but it did not come and Fiendbleeder faded from his mind with the echoing ring of mocking laughter.
Free for the moment, Pyrak leapt into the air followed by two thousand elite vrocks he had named “Dreadwings” that had accompanied the horde as his personal honor guard. Together they formed a dense black cloud of winged terror as the circled above the dense mass of demons, which had now begun to move under Heskara’s direction. Pyrak slid Fiendbleeder back into its ornate scabbard across his back and turned his mind to conquest.
***
The horde of demons flowed across the flat plane of Avernus like some colossal amoebae, oozing into every nook and corner in search of infernal prey. With Heskara at the lead on the ground and Pyrak, along with an entire wing of vrocks, gliding overhead there was little that could escape their attentions for long. As was the case with the first surprised group of devils they came across.
A legion of bearded devils had the profound misfortune of running into Pyrak’s horde on their routine patrol. Bearded devils also known as barbazu were foul man-sized fiends cover in glistening scaled skin and sporting a thick wiry beard that lent them their name. They were expert combatants and wielded long saw-toothed glaives with great skill. To their credit the devils stood their ground and on the order of their cornugon captain, a huge gargoyle like devil with a lashing tail and a fearsome barbed whip, the bearded devils quickly formed a six-tiered phalanx and began advancing determinedly towards the demonic horde. Like a dense hedge of razored hell the devils marched on regardless of what would almost certainly be complete annihilation.
No such orderly tactics existed for the demons and they surged forward at Heskara’s order to crash against the arrayed lines of the bearded devils. There were so many demons that they completely enveloped the devil ranks, surrounding them from all sides. The devils fought fiercely and slew as many as two to three times their number before finally being pulled down and torn to shreds by the howling demonic horde. The cornugon attempted to flee the scene of his legion’s destruction by taking to the air but Pyrak and his vrocks quickly caught the fleeing devil and he too met the fate of his underlings in a tangle of talons and ripping beaks.
The corpses of the bearded devils quickly disappeared down the maws of countless hungry demons and soon there was no sign that the legion had ever existed. Flushed with their first success the demonic horde thundered on eager for more blood and carnage. The encounter with legion of bearded devils was the first of many small skirmishes as the demons flowed across the barren expanse of Avernus. The horde encountered numerous small groups of devils, utterly destroying them before the surprised fiends could react or send for reinforcements.
Heskara was leading ably enough, Pyrak surmised, as he watched his marilith general barking orders to her charges from his lofty vantage point. The demons yielded to her dominance for the moment but leadership was ever a tenuous position in the abyss as the intensely chaotic demons followed only those they perceived stronger than themselves. They followed Heskara for the moment due in large part to the recent lopsided victories over the baatezu they had encountered. Pyrak knew that heavy casualties would test their loyalty immediately and then he would see if Heskara truly had the strength to command.
Pyrak was pleased with the initial success of his army; in all his millennia in the abyss he had never made it this far into Avernus. His goal was the iron citadel of Karagg’Var, a massive windowless tower that housed many legions of devils. It was here that the true resistance would come and Pyrak’s horde would either overcome or be broken on the iron walls of Karagg’Var. The demon lord’s true desire, however improbable, was to take the fortress and establish an abyssal foothold in Avernus. The prospect of maintaining a fortress inside hostile territory was daunting but the tower of Karagg’Var could hold many demons and would make an ideal jumping off point for further conquest.
Expecting the worst Pyrak was unfazed when his horde roared within sight of the citadel of Koragg'Var. The tower jutted like a massive iron nail driven into the blasted earth of Avernus, a single metallic spike soaring up into the foul red sky of the nine hells. Around the tower a series of concentric circles, tall iron walls bristling with spikes and the spears of thousands of baatezu troops, formed a near impregnable barrier to any who dared challenge the might of Baator.
Heskara called a halt to the hordes forward movement as the tower came into plain view. With a great thrashing and rumbling the demonic army ground to a stop while its leaders surveyed the daunting task that lay before them. Pyrak dropped to the ground near his general commanding his wing of vrocks to do the same.
“I have to admit, that’s damn impressive.” A stunned Heskara remarked to her liege at the awe-inspiring sight that lay before them. Pyrak merely nodded as he took in the task that lay before him.
The Baatezu army arrayed in front of the citadel of Karragg’Var was the largest assembling of devils Pyrak had ever seen. There was easily fifty legions formed largely from the scaly skinned, spike tufted bearded devils, or the less common barbed devils, fearsome close quarter combatant covered in razor sharp spines and bone spurs. In addition there were large groups of more powerful devils, including malebranche, huge muscular beasts with bat-like wings and fierce tridents of fire-blackened iron. Cornugon and insectile ice devil commanders were evident on the field as well, their positions of authority marked by the radical physical difference between themselves and their troops. Overhead the sky was dark with the wheeling forms of airborne devils, consisting of the squat pig-like aminzu and the wasp-like advespa, which they commanded.
The devils were organized in groups of one thousand, each legion of bearded or barbed devils led by an ice devil or cornugon. The legions of bearded devils moved in tight phalanxes to make better use of their long slashing glaives while the barbed devils lingered in amorphous mobs, eager to close with the enemy and bring their vicious body spines to bear.
Pyrak’s army was near double the size of the baatezu force, but was formed of many lesser demons such as dretch and even the near mindless manes. He had many squads of more powerful creatures but their chaotic natures prevented them from working together and forming a cohesive battlefront. Pyrak hoped simply for a battle of attrition where by he could overwhelm the infernal lines with cannon fodder while his more powerful minions brought their formidable spells and combat prowess to the fore. His army was eager enough but he had seen many an abyssal horde break against the rigorous discipline of the baatezu lines.
Nearly a thousand yards separated the two armies and they waited for their respective leaders to order an attack. Pyrak has joined Heskara in front of the ragged amorphous front line of his horde. He watched with curiosity as the legions of devils suddenly split down the middle to allow a group of large bulky creatures to come to the fore. Pyrak snorted with mocking laughter as he saw who was “in charge” of the baatezu army.
“Medregog?” Heskara said with open wonder and revulsion. “I thought you killed that bloated idiot.”
“No, he teleported away before I could finish the job. This should be very interesting”
Medregog was the sorriest excuse for a pit fiend Pyrak had ever laid eyes on. He went against every common notion of what the mightiest of devils should be. He was weak willed, incompetent and lacking I any kind of strategic wisdom. Pyrak had soundly defeated him over a dozen times but each time the pit fiend had managed to escape destruction. The last time Pyrak had managed to sever Medregog’s left wing before the desperate devil teleported away. The demon lord could see that Medregog still bore the wound, as even the powerful regenerative abilities of a pit fiend could not heal a wound dealt by Fiendbleeder.
Medregog moved through his troops with the air of a conquering hero surrounded by an honor guard of six malebranche. Although a pit fiend, the most powerful of devil kind, Medregog was less than awe-inspiring. He was short, barely topping nine feet in height and his body lacked solidarity, hanging in drooping folds of flabby flesh. Even the normally fearsome features of the pit-fiend were muted in Medregog; his fangs were two short, his eyes to small and even his scales lacked luster.
Medregog wore little beyond a kilt of beaten brass and a crimson cloak thrown over his shoulders to hide his savaged wing. He carried a long iron rod in his right hand and crown of silver adorned his scaly brow. Pyrak watched the pit fiend move closer with unabashed disgust, the demon lord found it completely mystifying that Medregog had climbed the ranks of devil kind to achieve the status of pit fiend. Baatezu were not known for rewarding cowardice and incompetence with anything than complete destruction, but somehow Medregog had managed to defy the odds and stand once again before Pyrak. The demon lord clenched his talons in frustration; he would not let Medregog escape his wrath again.
Medregog had reached the front of his army and flung his cloak over shoulder with a flourish. He then raised his iron rod and pointed it towards the demonic horde.
“Go back!” The fat pit fiend boomed. “You will find only death here.”
Pyrak ignored the pit fiends warning and called out over the distance that separated them. “Medregog, where is Bel? He certainly couldn’t have left you in charge of all these troops.”
Pyrak could see his adversary bristle even at this distance. “Bel has no time to waste on the likes of you, demon. The lord of Avernus has entrusted your destruction to me.”
Pyrak chuckled at Medregog’s boast “Well if you are so keen on my destruction why don’t you fly over here and we can settle this whole thing personally.” A howl of laughter and derision arose from the horde at Pyrak’s barely veiled barb.
“Asmodeus take you, Pyrak!” Medregog cursed. “I will make a cloak of your fine feathered hide before this day is out!”
Pyrak leaned down to Heskara and said softly, “Make sure he doesn’t leave.” The marilith nodded the smallest hint of a smile brightening here exotic features.
“Legions! Forward!” Medregog shrieked and the colossal baatezu army began to advance in precise formation. After giving the order to attack Medregog melted back into the safety of his army’s vanguard.
“Here they come.” Heskara remarked her whole body aquiver with the thought of the carnage to come. “Now?” She asked, looking up at Pyrak.
“Yes, now. Get them into ranks.”
Although his demons resisted any kind of organized direction, Pyrak had managed, through threats and intimidation, to teach his horde one trick. At Heskara’s order, fifty massive goristroi came to the fore. Each of the twenty-foot bull headed demons carried a huge silvered iron maul and began to arrange themselves, with much prodding from Heskara, into a rough wedge. Behind the wedge of goristroi the rest of the horde had begun to line up adding to the initial formation until a massive spearhead of demonic bodies stood poised to crash against the baatezu legions.
A scant hundred yards now separated the two armies and Pyrak turned to Heskara and warned his general sternly. “Keep control of them or this will be over as quickly as it began. Do not fail me.” Pyrak’s tone held no mercy and the marilith knew that if they did not emerge victorious today, her existence would be forfeit.
“Yes my liege, I will not falter.” Heskara replied lifting her chin and smiling confidently.
Pyrak turned from his general and spread his great wings drawing fiendbleeder from its sheath across his back. “Dreadwings! To me!” He boomed, and with that Pyrak and over two thousand vrocks rose into the air and sped towards the airborne devils hovering over their infernal army.
Pyrak and his vrocks closed the distance between themselves and the aminzu and insectile advespa in mere seconds. They had formed themselves into a tightly compacted wedge similar to the one the demons on the ground were using. With Pyrak at the head of this formation they plowed into the flying devils in a concentrated mass of tearing talons and ripping beaks. The devils stood little chance against Pyrak and his vrocks and they inflicted heavy casualties in the first few seconds of the aerial battle.
On the ground below the goristroi point of the huge demonic formation had reached the first rank of baatezu. The goristroi struck out with their hammers crushing scores of bearded devils before they could even get within reach. The goristroi began moving forward pushed by the huge mass of fiends behind them, driving a gap into the devil line through which poured a multitude of lesser demons.
Pyrak pulled his sword from the dying corpse of an aminzu, its small piggish eyes gleaming with hatred as it fell to its death hundreds of feet below. The vrocks had cleared out most of the baatezu air power and Pyrak sneaked a glance at his horde ‘s progress on the ground.
The wedge had slammed into the baatezu near the center of their formations. It had done its job and broken the devils cohesive units rendering the battlefield into a fierce disorganized melee, which was exactly the style of combat Pyrak and his demons excelled at.
The fighting was mostly hand to hand although a few of the more powerful fiends on both sides began to smite their foes with blasts of fire or freezing cold. Demons and devils are highly resistant to magic and only the lesser fiends suffered any real damage from these magical attacks.
Pyrak and his vrocks having no remaining foes to battle in the air dove towards the colossal mass of battling fiends. The demon lord and his dreadwings slammed into a one of the few remaining devil legions that had retained its lines. The vrocks dropped into the middle of a formation of bearded devils ranks slashing and biting, while Pyrak slashed about with fiendbleeder slaughtering scores of the lesser baatezu. The bearded devil ranks collapsed almost immediately as they were massacred entirely.
Suddenly Pyrak found himself alone in a small empty space on the battlefield, like being in the eye of a storm the battle raged around the demon lord but he was untouched by it. Pyrak heard Heskara barking orders to the east and turned his gaze to tangled knot of creatures that battled there. The marilith was in the thick of it, her six blades whirling like a storm of scythes. He watched as she disemboweled a cornugon with a triple swipe of three blades on her left side while skewering two barbed devils with a pair of blades on her right. She seemed to have things under control for the moment, but the tide of battle could change in an instant, and Pyrak was not about to lose his advantage.
The demon lord threw back his head and emitted a short piecing croak that was echoed by the remaining vrocks in the area. The vrocks moved in quickly and formed a massive circle around their master. Some of the devils fighting around them broke off from where they were battling Pyrak’s horde and hurried to disrupt the gathering circle. Many of them had seen this tactic before but not on this large of a scale. Enough vrocks remained outside the circle to engage the devils that were now swarming the area and relatively undisturbed, Pyrak and the circle of vrocks began to dance.
The vrocks began to move slowly around Pyrak, contorting their bodies in obscene angles and croaking in a shrill incomprehensible language. The dance contained a fell rhythm and the air began to thicken with a strange static charge. Pyrak croaked and writhed in time with the vrocks and as the battle raged around them they began to quicken the pace of their bizarre dance.
Heskara, seeing what Pyrak was doing, had also broken off with small contingent of babau and two goristroi to help fend off the baatezu clustering around the circle of vrocks. The fighting was intense as the more powerful devils, knowing full well what Pyrak was up to, drove their lesser minions relentlessly, but they could not break the line of demonic defenders in time to stop Pyrak’s dance.
The dance ended abruptly with each vrock including Pyrak suddenly stopping in place and emitting a single deafening shriek. The magical energy that had been building in the air was released in a massive explosion of crackling blue energy that fanned out in all directions from the circle. It passed harmlessly through each demon it encountered but ripped into the surrounding baatezu like a scythe through wheat burning them with a raging blue fire that swept through the devil ranks unchecked.
Because Pyrak had added his own personal power to the dance its radius had broadened considerably, flashing out in seconds over five hundred yards destroying all the lesser devils it touched and staggering the more powerful fiends.
The devils ranks were decimated and those that had survived Pyrak’s dance of ruin were momentarily stunned. The horde fell upon the remaining devils and a complete slaughter ensued as the now vastly outnumbered Baatezu fell before their demonic adversaries.
Pyrak watched the carnage gleefully until he saw a crimson-cloaked figure suddenly break off from the fighting and make for the gates of Karagg’Var. Medregog, ever the coward, had seen the inevitable conclusion to the battle and was fleeing the scene with great alacrity. He was obviously making for the outskirts of the fighting so that he could teleport to safety undisturbed.
“Heskara!” Pyrak cried pointing fiendbleeder towards the feeling Medregog. The Marilith was once again in the thick of combat but easily dispatched the three bearded devils she was facing and turned to see what Pyrak was pointing at. Heskara was a sorcerer of no small talent and she knew what Pyrak wished her to do. The marilith sheathed two of her swords to free a pair of her hands and quickly rattled of the words to an arcane incantation. At the spell’s culmination she pointed her index finger at the fleeing pit fiend and a thin purple ray of magical energy flashed from her extended digit to strike Medregog squarely in the back. The ray did not injure the pit fiend but his body was momentarily outlined in a harmless purple glow.
Pyrak launched himself into the air and sped towards Madrgog, who was still pushing his way through the last remaining knots of combatants. The pit fiend did not see Pyrak coming and as he reached the edge of the melee he was struck from behind by the demon lord’s massive body and sent crashing to the earth.
Pyrak fanned his great wings to stop his forward momentum and landed softly, straddling the prostrate form of Medregog, fiendbleeder dangling casually from one taloned hand. “Get up you sorry pile of lemure dung!” The demon lord spat.
Medregog scrambled away from Pyrak on his scaly belly rolling over on his back when he had gotten a few feet away. A wide mocking smile filled the pit fiend’s gruesome features as he quickly ran through the syllables of a spell. The look of abject terror that crossed Medregog’s face as his spell merely fizzled with a pathetic popping noise was pure delight to Pyrak.
“Oh no, there is no escape this time.’ Pyrak said and took fiendbleeder in a two handed grip. “Your incompetence sickens me, I will be doing the entire baatezu race a favor by ending your miserable existence. Now get up and fight!”
Medregog climbed to his feet slowly, his great flabby body quivering with terror. Beyond Pyrak the battle had ended, every single one of Medregog’s troops had either been destroyed or fled. Behind him the tower of Karrag’Var stood a safe haven he could not reach. He knew that the devils that remained inside the tower would not aid him, in fact many would like nothing more than to see him slain on the blood soaked field of battle. He was alone and outnumbered fifty thousand to one. With no other choice he gripped the long iron rod he had carried with him from the tower and fingered a small metal stud near the base of the implement. A large scythe like blade suddenly sprang from the rod transforming it into a wicked hooked battleaxe.
Pyrak grinned and strode forward to meet his foe. Heskara and the rest of the horde had moved up to watch their Pyrak do battle and formed a massive circle around the two combatants.
Medregog started combat predictably enough by calling on his natural spell-like abilities and dropping a great ball of fire at his feet. The explosion was immense and the pit fiend stood unharmed at its center, the flames had no effect on Pyrak either but momentarily hid his foe from view. Medregog did not waste his advantage and charged from the shielding wall of fire, battle-axe raised high over his head.
Pyrak was nearly caught off his guard and brought fiendbleeder up in a desperate parry deflecting the pit fiend’s powerful overhand blow that certainly would have split his skull. The demon lord leapt backwards after fending off Medregog’s first strike to give him some room to regain his composure. Medregog was a fool and a coward, but he was still a pit fiend and now that he was cornered would likely fight with every ounce of strength he could muster.
Again Medregog charged, but this time Pyrak was ready for him and as the pit fiend drew near, Pyrak used his larger size and greater reach to good effect. Quick as a snake fiendbleeder licked out catching the slower moving Medregog before he could bring his axe to bear. The great enchanted blade slashed the pit fiend low on his right arm severing the hand at the wrist and sending his weapon to the ground in a shower of ichor. Medregog howled with pain and horror stumbling back clutching the spurting stump of his right hand. “No! Please, this cannot be!” he cried as Pyrak stalked towards him. “I will concede the tower to you! Just let me live!” Medregog was screaming now, thick greenish spittle flying from his mouth, but Pyrak ignore him.
Medregog did nothing but put his arms over his head as Pyrak drew near in a vain attempt to ward off the final blow. The demon lord loomed over his adversary and shot out a taloned hand to grasp Medregog by the wrist of his undamaged arm. Pyrak lifted the pit fiend bodily from the ground to dangle in impotent humiliation. The victorious demon lord stared into the pit fiend’s eyes for a quick second, finding nothing but limitless depths of cowardice, and then casually rammed fiendbleeder through Medregog's chest impaling him on the massive steel blade. Pyrak held him there as he gurgled and spat, spewing his thick black blood from his fanged mouth and screaming incoherently. It took nearly five minutes for Medregog to die and Pyrak watched with great satisfaction as the light left the pit fiend’s eyes and he became still.
Pyrak flung Medregog’s great bloated corpse to the ground and wiped fiendbleeder clean with the back of one feathered arm. Heskara had slithered up beside her liege and stared up at the intimidating majesty of Karagg’Var. The tower was still manned by thousands of devils visible on the tower battlements and along the iron walls the circled the great citadel. “What do we do now, my lord?” The marilith asked softly.
Pyrak looked down at his general, his eyes gleaming with malice. “We lay siege, of course.”
In this installment we will shift focus away from hazergal for a bit and see what the Demon Lord Pyrak has been up to.
Enjoy
*****************************************************
Pyrak leaned upon the hilt of his massive sword and cast his gaze across a scorched landscape of cracked earth and heat-baked rock. No sun hung overhead, but the hellish place was lit by a fierce reddish glow that cast deep shadows reminiscent of pools of thickening blood. Behind the demon lord a shimmering disc of multi colored light hung suspended in the dry heat choked air. The planar portal was large, easily large enough to allow Pyrak’s massive frame to fit through without stooping.
Alone for the moment Pyrak scanned the horizon for any sign of his enemy, for he stood upon the land of his most hated foe, Avernus the first layer of Baator, the very gates of Hell itself.
Behind Pyrak the harsh jangling of steel announced the arrival of his marilith general Heskara as the portal disgorged her serpentine body complete with battle harness and weapons. The demoness's beautiful features were hard and pinched; she was nervous and had good reason to be. The marilith had been tasked with leading this foray into Baator and it would be she that led the screaming hordes of demons to battle with their ancient enemies. Failure would not be tolerated, Pyrak had assured her of this, and if his words were not proof enough his recent actions certainly were. Pyrak had, a scant ten days ago, slain another general named Kugrot, a nalfashnee demon that had displeased him. The demon lord had cut Kugrot down at the foot of his throne while Heskara looked on, an unmistakable warning.
“It is empty, my lord,” Heskara remarked as she slithered up beside her liege.
Pyrak stared down at his serpentine general with a sneer. “It’s only empty because they don’t know we are here yet.”
Heskara looked up at Pyrak quizzically. “I am sorry my lord, I don’t understand.” The marilith questioned as meekly as she could. “Bel has this plane under constant surveillance, how could he not know we have arrived.”
Pyrak turned a black scowl upon his general, his eyes glowed momentarily with red rage at being questioned, but the mighty demon lord forced his anger into check and answered Heskara. “We have arrived in a null spot”, Pyrak remarked with a casual air, “ the only place in Avernus where the baatezu cannot see.”
Pyrak lifted his gaze across the scorched landscape, which remained empty of anything or anyone besides the two demons. “It seems that fat slug Gemnez has his uses after all.” Pyrak spoke aloud but more to himself than to his subordinate.
The huge demon lord suddenly turned to his marilith general, his eyes brimming with anticipation for what was to come. “Heskara!” He boomed. “Widen the gate and let them in!”
Heskara wasted no time in obeying her lord and slithered to the planar portal that currently measured roughly twenty feet in diameter. The demoness spread her six arms and began intoning the words to a spell. At the completion of the spell the shimmering outer circumference of the portal exploded outwards expanding to nearly ten time its size in a matter of seconds. From beyond the greatly enlarged portal a brash cacophony of bestial grunts and perverse muttering burst forth, followed closely by the near deafening sound of countless bodies moving forward.
Heskara slithered back to the side of Pyrak, who stood before the huge portal his greatsword now resting casually across his shoulder. A savage glee filled the demon lord as slowly the portal began to vomit forth a horde of demons of all shapes and sizes. From the lowliest dretch to the towering bull-headed goristroi, a seemingly endless stream of abominable creatures spewed out onto the infernal plane of Avernus.
After nearly an hour the final demon stepped through the portal and Heskara stood before a near endless mass of demons. Pyrak stood beside his general and surveyed his army; he felt fiendbleeder suddenly thrum to life in his grasp. The sword slithered into the demon lord’s mind with the ease of a long familiar lover. “A great horde, Pyrak” it purred into his thoughts. “Who shall lead it?”
Pyrak tried to push the sword from his mind; he knew that it did not approve of Heskara leading. The sword wished only Pyrak to lead and through him Fiendbleeder could exert its will over the forces of the abyss. The demon lord ignored the sword and he felt it laughing in the back of his mind, knowing full well that it could make him do whatever it wished. Fiendbleeder occasionally let Pyrak have his way, as it seemed to amuse the fiendish weapon. This was one of those times and Pyrak felt the sword slip from his consciousness with great relief.
“Today you shall witness a great victory over our hated foes” Pyrak heard Heskara call out over the assembled horde of demons. “Our great lord Pyrak has given us an opportunity to strike at the baatezu before they can assemble an army to oppose us. The slaughter will be grand and each of you shall glut your hatred in full.”
Heskara cast a quick glance at Pyrak, looking for any sign of the demon lord’s approval, but found nothing in his cold black gaze. “Now follow me, children of the abyss and I shall lead you to glory!” Heskara punctuated her last statement by drawing all six of her swords with a rasping steel hiss. Her bravado was not wasted and a fierce howl arose from the abyssal army in answer to her impassioned display.
Pyrak looked on bemused; their anonymity would not last, for a force as large as this one could not go undetected for long. Pyrak was certain he would face an infernal army before this campaign was done. He watched Heskara continue her impassioned oratory noting her boldness and wondering if her actions would measure up to her words. The great demon lord felt fiendbleeder’s presence suddenly pushing softly at the back of his mind and he tightened his grip around the hilt of the massive sword. No, he thought. This shall be mine, not yours. Pyrak seethed. He bolstered his resolve against the inevitable push of the swords dominant will but it did not come and Fiendbleeder faded from his mind with the echoing ring of mocking laughter.
Free for the moment, Pyrak leapt into the air followed by two thousand elite vrocks he had named “Dreadwings” that had accompanied the horde as his personal honor guard. Together they formed a dense black cloud of winged terror as the circled above the dense mass of demons, which had now begun to move under Heskara’s direction. Pyrak slid Fiendbleeder back into its ornate scabbard across his back and turned his mind to conquest.
***
The horde of demons flowed across the flat plane of Avernus like some colossal amoebae, oozing into every nook and corner in search of infernal prey. With Heskara at the lead on the ground and Pyrak, along with an entire wing of vrocks, gliding overhead there was little that could escape their attentions for long. As was the case with the first surprised group of devils they came across.
A legion of bearded devils had the profound misfortune of running into Pyrak’s horde on their routine patrol. Bearded devils also known as barbazu were foul man-sized fiends cover in glistening scaled skin and sporting a thick wiry beard that lent them their name. They were expert combatants and wielded long saw-toothed glaives with great skill. To their credit the devils stood their ground and on the order of their cornugon captain, a huge gargoyle like devil with a lashing tail and a fearsome barbed whip, the bearded devils quickly formed a six-tiered phalanx and began advancing determinedly towards the demonic horde. Like a dense hedge of razored hell the devils marched on regardless of what would almost certainly be complete annihilation.
No such orderly tactics existed for the demons and they surged forward at Heskara’s order to crash against the arrayed lines of the bearded devils. There were so many demons that they completely enveloped the devil ranks, surrounding them from all sides. The devils fought fiercely and slew as many as two to three times their number before finally being pulled down and torn to shreds by the howling demonic horde. The cornugon attempted to flee the scene of his legion’s destruction by taking to the air but Pyrak and his vrocks quickly caught the fleeing devil and he too met the fate of his underlings in a tangle of talons and ripping beaks.
The corpses of the bearded devils quickly disappeared down the maws of countless hungry demons and soon there was no sign that the legion had ever existed. Flushed with their first success the demonic horde thundered on eager for more blood and carnage. The encounter with legion of bearded devils was the first of many small skirmishes as the demons flowed across the barren expanse of Avernus. The horde encountered numerous small groups of devils, utterly destroying them before the surprised fiends could react or send for reinforcements.
Heskara was leading ably enough, Pyrak surmised, as he watched his marilith general barking orders to her charges from his lofty vantage point. The demons yielded to her dominance for the moment but leadership was ever a tenuous position in the abyss as the intensely chaotic demons followed only those they perceived stronger than themselves. They followed Heskara for the moment due in large part to the recent lopsided victories over the baatezu they had encountered. Pyrak knew that heavy casualties would test their loyalty immediately and then he would see if Heskara truly had the strength to command.
Pyrak was pleased with the initial success of his army; in all his millennia in the abyss he had never made it this far into Avernus. His goal was the iron citadel of Karagg’Var, a massive windowless tower that housed many legions of devils. It was here that the true resistance would come and Pyrak’s horde would either overcome or be broken on the iron walls of Karagg’Var. The demon lord’s true desire, however improbable, was to take the fortress and establish an abyssal foothold in Avernus. The prospect of maintaining a fortress inside hostile territory was daunting but the tower of Karagg’Var could hold many demons and would make an ideal jumping off point for further conquest.
Expecting the worst Pyrak was unfazed when his horde roared within sight of the citadel of Koragg'Var. The tower jutted like a massive iron nail driven into the blasted earth of Avernus, a single metallic spike soaring up into the foul red sky of the nine hells. Around the tower a series of concentric circles, tall iron walls bristling with spikes and the spears of thousands of baatezu troops, formed a near impregnable barrier to any who dared challenge the might of Baator.
Heskara called a halt to the hordes forward movement as the tower came into plain view. With a great thrashing and rumbling the demonic army ground to a stop while its leaders surveyed the daunting task that lay before them. Pyrak dropped to the ground near his general commanding his wing of vrocks to do the same.
“I have to admit, that’s damn impressive.” A stunned Heskara remarked to her liege at the awe-inspiring sight that lay before them. Pyrak merely nodded as he took in the task that lay before him.
The Baatezu army arrayed in front of the citadel of Karragg’Var was the largest assembling of devils Pyrak had ever seen. There was easily fifty legions formed largely from the scaly skinned, spike tufted bearded devils, or the less common barbed devils, fearsome close quarter combatant covered in razor sharp spines and bone spurs. In addition there were large groups of more powerful devils, including malebranche, huge muscular beasts with bat-like wings and fierce tridents of fire-blackened iron. Cornugon and insectile ice devil commanders were evident on the field as well, their positions of authority marked by the radical physical difference between themselves and their troops. Overhead the sky was dark with the wheeling forms of airborne devils, consisting of the squat pig-like aminzu and the wasp-like advespa, which they commanded.
The devils were organized in groups of one thousand, each legion of bearded or barbed devils led by an ice devil or cornugon. The legions of bearded devils moved in tight phalanxes to make better use of their long slashing glaives while the barbed devils lingered in amorphous mobs, eager to close with the enemy and bring their vicious body spines to bear.
Pyrak’s army was near double the size of the baatezu force, but was formed of many lesser demons such as dretch and even the near mindless manes. He had many squads of more powerful creatures but their chaotic natures prevented them from working together and forming a cohesive battlefront. Pyrak hoped simply for a battle of attrition where by he could overwhelm the infernal lines with cannon fodder while his more powerful minions brought their formidable spells and combat prowess to the fore. His army was eager enough but he had seen many an abyssal horde break against the rigorous discipline of the baatezu lines.
Nearly a thousand yards separated the two armies and they waited for their respective leaders to order an attack. Pyrak has joined Heskara in front of the ragged amorphous front line of his horde. He watched with curiosity as the legions of devils suddenly split down the middle to allow a group of large bulky creatures to come to the fore. Pyrak snorted with mocking laughter as he saw who was “in charge” of the baatezu army.
“Medregog?” Heskara said with open wonder and revulsion. “I thought you killed that bloated idiot.”
“No, he teleported away before I could finish the job. This should be very interesting”
Medregog was the sorriest excuse for a pit fiend Pyrak had ever laid eyes on. He went against every common notion of what the mightiest of devils should be. He was weak willed, incompetent and lacking I any kind of strategic wisdom. Pyrak had soundly defeated him over a dozen times but each time the pit fiend had managed to escape destruction. The last time Pyrak had managed to sever Medregog’s left wing before the desperate devil teleported away. The demon lord could see that Medregog still bore the wound, as even the powerful regenerative abilities of a pit fiend could not heal a wound dealt by Fiendbleeder.
Medregog moved through his troops with the air of a conquering hero surrounded by an honor guard of six malebranche. Although a pit fiend, the most powerful of devil kind, Medregog was less than awe-inspiring. He was short, barely topping nine feet in height and his body lacked solidarity, hanging in drooping folds of flabby flesh. Even the normally fearsome features of the pit-fiend were muted in Medregog; his fangs were two short, his eyes to small and even his scales lacked luster.
Medregog wore little beyond a kilt of beaten brass and a crimson cloak thrown over his shoulders to hide his savaged wing. He carried a long iron rod in his right hand and crown of silver adorned his scaly brow. Pyrak watched the pit fiend move closer with unabashed disgust, the demon lord found it completely mystifying that Medregog had climbed the ranks of devil kind to achieve the status of pit fiend. Baatezu were not known for rewarding cowardice and incompetence with anything than complete destruction, but somehow Medregog had managed to defy the odds and stand once again before Pyrak. The demon lord clenched his talons in frustration; he would not let Medregog escape his wrath again.
Medregog had reached the front of his army and flung his cloak over shoulder with a flourish. He then raised his iron rod and pointed it towards the demonic horde.
“Go back!” The fat pit fiend boomed. “You will find only death here.”
Pyrak ignored the pit fiends warning and called out over the distance that separated them. “Medregog, where is Bel? He certainly couldn’t have left you in charge of all these troops.”
Pyrak could see his adversary bristle even at this distance. “Bel has no time to waste on the likes of you, demon. The lord of Avernus has entrusted your destruction to me.”
Pyrak chuckled at Medregog’s boast “Well if you are so keen on my destruction why don’t you fly over here and we can settle this whole thing personally.” A howl of laughter and derision arose from the horde at Pyrak’s barely veiled barb.
“Asmodeus take you, Pyrak!” Medregog cursed. “I will make a cloak of your fine feathered hide before this day is out!”
Pyrak leaned down to Heskara and said softly, “Make sure he doesn’t leave.” The marilith nodded the smallest hint of a smile brightening here exotic features.
“Legions! Forward!” Medregog shrieked and the colossal baatezu army began to advance in precise formation. After giving the order to attack Medregog melted back into the safety of his army’s vanguard.
“Here they come.” Heskara remarked her whole body aquiver with the thought of the carnage to come. “Now?” She asked, looking up at Pyrak.
“Yes, now. Get them into ranks.”
Although his demons resisted any kind of organized direction, Pyrak had managed, through threats and intimidation, to teach his horde one trick. At Heskara’s order, fifty massive goristroi came to the fore. Each of the twenty-foot bull headed demons carried a huge silvered iron maul and began to arrange themselves, with much prodding from Heskara, into a rough wedge. Behind the wedge of goristroi the rest of the horde had begun to line up adding to the initial formation until a massive spearhead of demonic bodies stood poised to crash against the baatezu legions.
A scant hundred yards now separated the two armies and Pyrak turned to Heskara and warned his general sternly. “Keep control of them or this will be over as quickly as it began. Do not fail me.” Pyrak’s tone held no mercy and the marilith knew that if they did not emerge victorious today, her existence would be forfeit.
“Yes my liege, I will not falter.” Heskara replied lifting her chin and smiling confidently.
Pyrak turned from his general and spread his great wings drawing fiendbleeder from its sheath across his back. “Dreadwings! To me!” He boomed, and with that Pyrak and over two thousand vrocks rose into the air and sped towards the airborne devils hovering over their infernal army.
Pyrak and his vrocks closed the distance between themselves and the aminzu and insectile advespa in mere seconds. They had formed themselves into a tightly compacted wedge similar to the one the demons on the ground were using. With Pyrak at the head of this formation they plowed into the flying devils in a concentrated mass of tearing talons and ripping beaks. The devils stood little chance against Pyrak and his vrocks and they inflicted heavy casualties in the first few seconds of the aerial battle.
On the ground below the goristroi point of the huge demonic formation had reached the first rank of baatezu. The goristroi struck out with their hammers crushing scores of bearded devils before they could even get within reach. The goristroi began moving forward pushed by the huge mass of fiends behind them, driving a gap into the devil line through which poured a multitude of lesser demons.
Pyrak pulled his sword from the dying corpse of an aminzu, its small piggish eyes gleaming with hatred as it fell to its death hundreds of feet below. The vrocks had cleared out most of the baatezu air power and Pyrak sneaked a glance at his horde ‘s progress on the ground.
The wedge had slammed into the baatezu near the center of their formations. It had done its job and broken the devils cohesive units rendering the battlefield into a fierce disorganized melee, which was exactly the style of combat Pyrak and his demons excelled at.
The fighting was mostly hand to hand although a few of the more powerful fiends on both sides began to smite their foes with blasts of fire or freezing cold. Demons and devils are highly resistant to magic and only the lesser fiends suffered any real damage from these magical attacks.
Pyrak and his vrocks having no remaining foes to battle in the air dove towards the colossal mass of battling fiends. The demon lord and his dreadwings slammed into a one of the few remaining devil legions that had retained its lines. The vrocks dropped into the middle of a formation of bearded devils ranks slashing and biting, while Pyrak slashed about with fiendbleeder slaughtering scores of the lesser baatezu. The bearded devil ranks collapsed almost immediately as they were massacred entirely.
Suddenly Pyrak found himself alone in a small empty space on the battlefield, like being in the eye of a storm the battle raged around the demon lord but he was untouched by it. Pyrak heard Heskara barking orders to the east and turned his gaze to tangled knot of creatures that battled there. The marilith was in the thick of it, her six blades whirling like a storm of scythes. He watched as she disemboweled a cornugon with a triple swipe of three blades on her left side while skewering two barbed devils with a pair of blades on her right. She seemed to have things under control for the moment, but the tide of battle could change in an instant, and Pyrak was not about to lose his advantage.
The demon lord threw back his head and emitted a short piecing croak that was echoed by the remaining vrocks in the area. The vrocks moved in quickly and formed a massive circle around their master. Some of the devils fighting around them broke off from where they were battling Pyrak’s horde and hurried to disrupt the gathering circle. Many of them had seen this tactic before but not on this large of a scale. Enough vrocks remained outside the circle to engage the devils that were now swarming the area and relatively undisturbed, Pyrak and the circle of vrocks began to dance.
The vrocks began to move slowly around Pyrak, contorting their bodies in obscene angles and croaking in a shrill incomprehensible language. The dance contained a fell rhythm and the air began to thicken with a strange static charge. Pyrak croaked and writhed in time with the vrocks and as the battle raged around them they began to quicken the pace of their bizarre dance.
Heskara, seeing what Pyrak was doing, had also broken off with small contingent of babau and two goristroi to help fend off the baatezu clustering around the circle of vrocks. The fighting was intense as the more powerful devils, knowing full well what Pyrak was up to, drove their lesser minions relentlessly, but they could not break the line of demonic defenders in time to stop Pyrak’s dance.
The dance ended abruptly with each vrock including Pyrak suddenly stopping in place and emitting a single deafening shriek. The magical energy that had been building in the air was released in a massive explosion of crackling blue energy that fanned out in all directions from the circle. It passed harmlessly through each demon it encountered but ripped into the surrounding baatezu like a scythe through wheat burning them with a raging blue fire that swept through the devil ranks unchecked.
Because Pyrak had added his own personal power to the dance its radius had broadened considerably, flashing out in seconds over five hundred yards destroying all the lesser devils it touched and staggering the more powerful fiends.
The devils ranks were decimated and those that had survived Pyrak’s dance of ruin were momentarily stunned. The horde fell upon the remaining devils and a complete slaughter ensued as the now vastly outnumbered Baatezu fell before their demonic adversaries.
Pyrak watched the carnage gleefully until he saw a crimson-cloaked figure suddenly break off from the fighting and make for the gates of Karagg’Var. Medregog, ever the coward, had seen the inevitable conclusion to the battle and was fleeing the scene with great alacrity. He was obviously making for the outskirts of the fighting so that he could teleport to safety undisturbed.
“Heskara!” Pyrak cried pointing fiendbleeder towards the feeling Medregog. The Marilith was once again in the thick of combat but easily dispatched the three bearded devils she was facing and turned to see what Pyrak was pointing at. Heskara was a sorcerer of no small talent and she knew what Pyrak wished her to do. The marilith sheathed two of her swords to free a pair of her hands and quickly rattled of the words to an arcane incantation. At the spell’s culmination she pointed her index finger at the fleeing pit fiend and a thin purple ray of magical energy flashed from her extended digit to strike Medregog squarely in the back. The ray did not injure the pit fiend but his body was momentarily outlined in a harmless purple glow.
Pyrak launched himself into the air and sped towards Madrgog, who was still pushing his way through the last remaining knots of combatants. The pit fiend did not see Pyrak coming and as he reached the edge of the melee he was struck from behind by the demon lord’s massive body and sent crashing to the earth.
Pyrak fanned his great wings to stop his forward momentum and landed softly, straddling the prostrate form of Medregog, fiendbleeder dangling casually from one taloned hand. “Get up you sorry pile of lemure dung!” The demon lord spat.
Medregog scrambled away from Pyrak on his scaly belly rolling over on his back when he had gotten a few feet away. A wide mocking smile filled the pit fiend’s gruesome features as he quickly ran through the syllables of a spell. The look of abject terror that crossed Medregog’s face as his spell merely fizzled with a pathetic popping noise was pure delight to Pyrak.
“Oh no, there is no escape this time.’ Pyrak said and took fiendbleeder in a two handed grip. “Your incompetence sickens me, I will be doing the entire baatezu race a favor by ending your miserable existence. Now get up and fight!”
Medregog climbed to his feet slowly, his great flabby body quivering with terror. Beyond Pyrak the battle had ended, every single one of Medregog’s troops had either been destroyed or fled. Behind him the tower of Karrag’Var stood a safe haven he could not reach. He knew that the devils that remained inside the tower would not aid him, in fact many would like nothing more than to see him slain on the blood soaked field of battle. He was alone and outnumbered fifty thousand to one. With no other choice he gripped the long iron rod he had carried with him from the tower and fingered a small metal stud near the base of the implement. A large scythe like blade suddenly sprang from the rod transforming it into a wicked hooked battleaxe.
Pyrak grinned and strode forward to meet his foe. Heskara and the rest of the horde had moved up to watch their Pyrak do battle and formed a massive circle around the two combatants.
Medregog started combat predictably enough by calling on his natural spell-like abilities and dropping a great ball of fire at his feet. The explosion was immense and the pit fiend stood unharmed at its center, the flames had no effect on Pyrak either but momentarily hid his foe from view. Medregog did not waste his advantage and charged from the shielding wall of fire, battle-axe raised high over his head.
Pyrak was nearly caught off his guard and brought fiendbleeder up in a desperate parry deflecting the pit fiend’s powerful overhand blow that certainly would have split his skull. The demon lord leapt backwards after fending off Medregog’s first strike to give him some room to regain his composure. Medregog was a fool and a coward, but he was still a pit fiend and now that he was cornered would likely fight with every ounce of strength he could muster.
Again Medregog charged, but this time Pyrak was ready for him and as the pit fiend drew near, Pyrak used his larger size and greater reach to good effect. Quick as a snake fiendbleeder licked out catching the slower moving Medregog before he could bring his axe to bear. The great enchanted blade slashed the pit fiend low on his right arm severing the hand at the wrist and sending his weapon to the ground in a shower of ichor. Medregog howled with pain and horror stumbling back clutching the spurting stump of his right hand. “No! Please, this cannot be!” he cried as Pyrak stalked towards him. “I will concede the tower to you! Just let me live!” Medregog was screaming now, thick greenish spittle flying from his mouth, but Pyrak ignore him.
Medregog did nothing but put his arms over his head as Pyrak drew near in a vain attempt to ward off the final blow. The demon lord loomed over his adversary and shot out a taloned hand to grasp Medregog by the wrist of his undamaged arm. Pyrak lifted the pit fiend bodily from the ground to dangle in impotent humiliation. The victorious demon lord stared into the pit fiend’s eyes for a quick second, finding nothing but limitless depths of cowardice, and then casually rammed fiendbleeder through Medregog's chest impaling him on the massive steel blade. Pyrak held him there as he gurgled and spat, spewing his thick black blood from his fanged mouth and screaming incoherently. It took nearly five minutes for Medregog to die and Pyrak watched with great satisfaction as the light left the pit fiend’s eyes and he became still.
Pyrak flung Medregog’s great bloated corpse to the ground and wiped fiendbleeder clean with the back of one feathered arm. Heskara had slithered up beside her liege and stared up at the intimidating majesty of Karagg’Var. The tower was still manned by thousands of devils visible on the tower battlements and along the iron walls the circled the great citadel. “What do we do now, my lord?” The marilith asked softly.
Pyrak looked down at his general, his eyes gleaming with malice. “We lay siege, of course.”
LuYangShih
First Post
I wonder if Gemnez is going to be the one who eventually destroys Pyrak. I would like to see Pyrak survive, but BLACKDIRGE seems to have a predeliction towards Lawful characters winning the day. Regardless, another great post, and I look forward to reading more. This is truly high quality work.
BLACKDIRGE
Adventurer
I will admit I have soft spot for the Lawful guys, they're easier to write.
I think you will be surprised at who actually emerges as the victor in this tale. Not sure what will happen to Pyrak, he's an ambitious demon lord, and that may get him into trouble.
I am going with a little different method in tellting this story than I did with my previous efforts. It will jump around a bit from perspective to perspective, mainly telling the tale through the view of Hazeragl, Pyrak and Gemnez. If I don't make too much of a muddled mess out of things it should all tie together in an unexpected way at the end.
Thanks for reading
Dirge
Malicene
First Post
Reading your last installment, I tought: How could you forget the Dance of Ruin ? ... and Pyrak's start dancing a few lines later .....
-----------------------------------------------------------
In my mind Vrock's Dance of Ruin is something they do flying, like a crazed air show !
-----------------------------------------------------------
In my mind Vrock's Dance of Ruin is something they do flying, like a crazed air show !
Similar Threads
