Update time.
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Part XIII
The Death of a Demonlord - Part II
The planes of Vrack, long the domain of the demon lord Pyrak, stretched away in all directions, an infinite expanse of nothing. Flat, barren and choked with eons of gathering dust, the planes were as inhospitable as any layer of the abyss. All activity in this domain was in the skies, and it teemed with terror on the wing. From flying demons to more mundane horrors, such as gargoyles and perytons, all things evil and airborne found respite above the domain of Pyrak.
The most prominent structure in all this emptiness, was Pyrak’s own floating citadel. Once belonging to the deposed demon lord Pazuzu, the marvelous structure of mithral and ivory, was now the center of Pyrak’s power. Below it, a bizarre and motley collection of ramshackle buildings had been hastily constructed. Here, Pyrak’s ground forces dwelled, the only land bound creatures in a world of flying terror.
Today the skies about Pyrak‘s citadel, normally swarming with his minions, were empty save for one demon. Grimclaw, the leader of Pyrak’s dreadwings, the demon lord’ elite aerial scourge, hovered patiently, his long taloned fingers gripping a two-handed morningstar of sky-blue steel. The morningstar, a gift from his liege, was Grimclaw’s symbol of authority over the dreadwings, but neither he or any symbol he possessed was enough to persuade the nearly two thousand elite vrocks to rally around the stricken Pyrak. So here he waited, alone ready to stand against the one who would come to usurp his master’s power.
Grimclaw had tried in vain to convince his brethren to aid the their master in this coming struggle, but vrocks, like all demons have no sense of honor or loyalty, they bow only to the strongest. To the dreadwings, Pyrak’s weakness was merely an indication that a new leader must arise, and if Hedrenatherax could claim the throne, then so be it. Such was the way of the abyss. But Grimclaw had longed served Pyrak, and had come to understand the rarity of his nature, and the scope of his vision. Through his close association with the demon lord, Grimclaw had found that Pyrak’s anomalous behavior had nurtured change within in his own soul, he had come to see the benefits of loyalty, unity and structure. Respect and admiration had found purchase within in his demonic heart for the one under which he served, and through this the realization that he was no longer bound by his heritage.
Grimclaw’s lament was only that he was alone in his enlightenment, that only he could share the vision that his master had labored so long to create, a vision that had been so close to fulfillment as Bel lay bleeding on the battle field of Avernus, now on the brink of complete annihilation. If Hedrenatherax slew Pyrak, then all that had been achieved would be smashed asunder. Shortsighted and oafish, the balor would quickly unravel the intricately woven skein of command that held Pyrak’s armies together. Leaderless, the armies would disband and Hedrenatherax would be little more than one of thousands of petty demonic rulers, happily waging pointless battles against his neighbors, and reveling in his own ponderous futility.
Grimclaw shuddered, he would much rather be dead than live beneath the rule of one such as Hedrenatherax. The vrock knew his vigil was ultimately pointless, and that he stood little chance of defeating the balor in combat. He hoped only to slow Hedrenatherax down, give Pyrak more time to prepare, and maybe catch the overconfident balor off guard and wound him. If he could weaken Hedrenatherax, even a fraction, it might be enough to ensure Pyrak’s victory.
The foul smell of brimstone suddenly invaded Grimclaw’s highly tuned senses, and he caught sight of a brilliant flash of crimson flame low on the horizon. Hedrenatherax had arrived.
Grimclaw watched as the balor came into view, noting that he was not alone. There were three other large, winged shapes speeding along with the big demon. One he recognized as the bloated from of the rogue paerliyon devil, Gemnez. The remaining two figures drew a pungent curse from Grimclaw, for Hedrenatherax had come prepared. Two massive Nycoloths, yogoloth mercenaries, flew alongside the balor, and were obviously under his command.
There were only seconds before Hedrenatherax and his hired swords arrived, and Grimclaw quickly mouthed the words to a number of protection spells to bolster his meager defenses. He then took his morningstar in a firm grip, and waited, the only selfless demon in the entire abyss, awaiting his chance to die for his master.
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Hedrenatherax caught sight of Grimclaw as he streaked across the barren planes, his great wings driving his massive body through the air like unstoppable flaming arrow. The balor knew he would encounter resistance on his bid for power, but he had expected a more formidable barrier than a single vrock. It mattered little, he merely had to reach Pyrak to slay him, if accounts were correct. Pyrak had been mortally wounded in his battle with Bel, and at this point could barely stand without assistance. If this was truth, Hedrenatherax had only to pluck the throne from Pyrak’s grasp; something he felt was quite possible with but a single stroke from his sword.
When word of this golden opportunity had reached his ears, Hedrenatherax had been in Gemnez Drak, serving the spawning pit’s master. The bloated paeliryon devil was engrossed in the strange faithless petitioner that had become a demon, a demon that remembered his former life and abilities. Hedrenatherax had no interest in this planar anomaly, other than watching it die slowly on the end of his blade. But Gemnez had wanted it alive, and Hedrenatherax had bowed to the baatezu’s power and reluctantly retrieved the creature.
Although unsubtle in the extreme, Hedrenatherax had planted a single spy, whose sole purpose was to inform him of Pyrak’s condition on his return from his many excursions into Avernus. This spy had been in the balor’s employ for centuries, and had never reported a single thing, until today. Hedrenatherax was certain that he could not defeat Pyrak unless the demon lord was weakened or incapacitated. The balor had known long ago that Pyrak’s forays into the hells would eventually lead to either his destruction, or quite possibly a severe loss of power that would allow an enterprising demon in the know to usurp his position. And it had happened, in a way that was so undeniably perfect, that Hedrenatherax could scarcely believe his luck.
There was but one obstacle that was beyond Hedrenatherax’s power to control, the rogue devil Gemnez. Although exiled from his home plane, Gemnez showed the unswerving loyalty common to his race, a loyalty that might induce him to stand against Hedrenatherax. But fate had again deigned to intercede on the balor’s behalf, and Gemnez had given his word that he would not hinder Hedrenatherax in any way. As strange as this was, Hedrenatherax understood the Baatezu’s decision. The abyss had long existed on the fundamental concept of rule by the strongest. No demon could hold onto sovereignty without immense reserves of personal power, and once that power was in question, another demon would rise to claim his place. For untold millennia demon lords had arisen and been deposed by their underlings, it was simply a cold truth that every demonic ruler would eventually face.
Oddly enough Gemnez had chosen to accompany Hedrenatherax to Pyrak’s citadel. The baatezu had been strangely calm, when the news of Pyrak‘s slow demise was laid at his feet. The arrogance, and prideful demeanor that Hedrenatherax found so enraging in the paeliryon simply drained away, leaving and even more aggravating stoicism. Hedrenatherax had been ready for a confrontation, for if he could not defeat Gemnez, he would never hold onto power, regardless if he slew Pyrak or not. He had even gone as far as to recruit a pair of Nycoloth mercenaries to provide assistance, should Gemnez prove intractable. But there was no fight in the rogue baatezu, Gemnez had merely nodded and asked if he might bear witness firsthand to Hedrenatherax’s ascension. Flabbergasted, and caught completely off guard, the balor had acquiesced.
So, flushed with the heady sensation of vast power nearly realized, Hedrenatherax had set forth the from Gemnez Drak, accompanied by Gemnez and the two Nycoloths, to claim his destiny. But now that his goal was insight something gnawed at Hedrenatherax, the single vrock, which the balor recognized as Grimclaw, the leader of Pyrak’s dreadwings, spawned a raw edge of uneasiness in him. The mere sight of Grimclaw hovering there, in what must be the most brazen act of stupidity Hedrenatherax had ever witnessed, puzzled him deeply. Never had the balor seen a demonlord’s minion rally to his side once his power was on the decline. There were often dozens of would be usurpers lining up for a chance at ultimate power, ready to strike down their liege at any sign of weakness. But there it was, the crux of Hedrenatherax‘s unease, Pyrak sat weak as a babe, and this lone vrock chose to defend him, a futile gesture that Grimclaw must understand.
Why? Hedrenatherax thought. Why would Grimclaw put his own life in jeopardy for such a ludicrous thing? There was nothing to be gained here, no power to be earned. What could prompt such a reckless course of action?
Hedrenatherax had served Pyrak for many years, acting as the demonlord’s major domo, and even his own personal assassin. In this time he had seen incredible behavior exhibited by Pyrak’s minions, behavior he could scarcely imagine, let alone understand. It seemed that many of Pyrak’s underlings actually respected him, even admired him. In turn the demonlord afforded his minions a level of trust that was unheard of in the abyss. As baffling as this concept was to Hedrenatherax, it seemed to be at the core of Pyrak’s success, and in his many years as the ruler of Vrack, the demonlord had never suffered the assassination attempts and bids for power that plagued every other abyssal ruler.
None were as loyal to Pyrak as Grimclaw, and Hedrenatherax had known that he would cross blades with the big vrock before the day was done. The balor had no fear of Grimclaw, he was an inferior demon and could not match Hedrenatherax’s physical might. But still, the vrock’s lone vigil unnerved him, and as he drew closer to Pyrak’s citadel he drew his great jagged blade from his belt and made ready to end the source of his discomfort.
Hedrenatherax pulled up roughly fifty yards from Grimclaw, who hovered unfazed, morningstar at the ready. The two Nycoloths hovered as well, regarding the lone vrock with grim amusement, and awaiting the order to attack. Gemnez hung back even further, his massive body held airborne by his two stubby wings in a ridiculous show of aerodynamic absurdity.
“Grimclaw!” Hedrenatherax boomed. “Why do you throw you life away so foolishly? Pyrak will die regardless of this bravado.”
“Perhaps you are right Hedrenatherax.” Grimclaw called back, his huge feathered wings lashing the air about him. “And perhaps, Pyrak will split open that great empty melon that sits upon your neck, and rid the abyss of your odiferous presence.”
One of the Nycoloth’s chuckled under his breath at Grimclaw’s insult, while Gemnez simply guffawed unabashedly, his high girlish laughter echoing in the thin abyssal air.
Hedrenatherax grinned, revealing the double row of shark-like teeth that filled his cavernous mouth. Grimclaw’s barb and the derisive laughter behind him
“This is unfortunate Grimclaw, I would have valued your service.” Hedrenatherax said, drifting forward, beginning to close the gap between he and the vrock leader. “But it is obvious that whatever poison that has been addling Pyrak’s mind all these years, has spread to many of his servants.”
Grimclaw grimaced and spat, as if Hedrenatherax words had fouled the air. “You are truly a great lumbering oaf, balor. You have never been unable to grasp anything beyond your own immediate desires. You may slay me, you may even slay Pyrak, but your legacy shall fade like a scream in a windstorm, and you will ever be seen as Pyrak’s inferior.”
Rage spewed, hot and acrid, into Hedrenatherax’s mind, the vrock’s words carried the weight of truth, and they cut the balor as no blade ever could. Hedrenatherax had heard enough, there were no more words. He could not defeat Grimclaw in this manner, but he could crush the life from the vrock and bathe in his blood, even though it would not assuage the self doubt that the dreadwing leader had so deftly planted within him.
“He is mine! Do not interfere!” Hedrenatherax growled over his shoulder to the two Nycoloths that had accompanied him. The balor then flared his wings and shot forward howling, sword and body blazing with malevolent flame.
Grimclaw allowed the balor to get within a few feet of him, and then spun lithely away from Hedrenatherax, his wings making barely a flutter, so precise was his aerial maneuvering. Hedrenatherax was not a clumsy flyer, but could not match Grimclaw’s grace in the air and sped past the vrock, his sword flashing through the empty space where the vulture-demon had been. Grimclaw did not wait for Hedrenatherax to regain his equilibrium, and with a powerful stroke of his wings sped after the balor.
Hedrenatherax had managed to slow and turn to face his adversary, but was not prepared for Grimclaw‘s lighting fast follow up to his ill-planned charge. The vrock had aimed his body so that it would pass only a few feet above the balor’s head, and as he arrowed past, his heavy morningstar lashed out, smashing its spiked head full into Hedrenatherax’s stunned face. Blood and flame erupted from the impact of Grimclaw’s weapon, and Hedrenatherax was flung head over heels from the force of the blow, his wings tangling around his body. Stunned, Hedrenatherax began to fall, plummeting towards the abyssal plane thousands of feet below.
Grimclaw’s morningstar had crushed many of the bones Hedrenatherax’s face, as well as smashing most of his teeth. The vrock knew that this was merely an inconvenience to the great demon, and that his flesh would be rapidly healing even now. Knowing that he had gotten lucky with his initial attack, Grimclaw pressed his advantage and dove after the falling balor, hope flaring to life within his heart that victory may not be beyond his grasp.
Hedrenatherax had wrapped his wings tightly around his body, hiding within a cocoon of leathery skin. The balor had made no attempt to slow his fall, and the ground was rushing up to meet him at an alarming rate. Grimclaw surmised that Hedrenatherax’s inaction was due to the wound his morningstar had inflicted, daring to hope that it had been more serious than he had anticipated.
Grimclaw knifed towards his target, almost completely vertical with his wings tucked, he would near maximum velocity when he reached Hedrenatherax. His morningstar, still stained with the balor’s blood, was cocked back, ready to deliver every ounce of kinetic energy he could muster.
From above Gemnez and the Nycoloths watched as Grimclaw reached his target and loosed a screech of triumph. Neither they or Grimclaw had divined what would happen next, as Hedtrenatherax suddenly spread his great wings, his body flames flaring as bright as a midday sun. The intense glare caused Grimclaw to falter, and his weapon uncoiled a fraction of a second slower than he had planned. This slight hesitation allowed Hedrenatherax to dart out one taloned claw and catch the morningstar by its long steel shaft, stopping it cold before it could impact with his skull. Then, with a savage yank, Hedrenatherax pulled the weapon and its wielder into his fiery embrace, folding his wings around Grimclaw in an inescapable mesh of skin.
Tangled together, the two demons fell. Grimclaw struggled mightily but he could not break the iron grasp of Hedrenatherax, and could do nothing but wait for the inevitable impact with the ground. Like a descending meteor, the two struggling demons met the earth with a resonating thud, smashing into the dusty abyssal plane in an eruption of flame and dirt. As the dust settled, it was clear who had taken the brunt of the fall. Grimclaw lay crumpled, sprawled like a broken doll, his wings and limbs shattered, while Hedrenatherax, a far more robust demon, was already climbing shakily to his feet.
The balor, had not survived the fall unscathed, and his body showed obvious signs of physical duress. One wing hung useless and tattered, and his left arm had been broken in over a dozen places and dangled limply from his shoulder. In addition, Hedrenatherax’s face had not fully recovered from the brutal caress of Grimclaw’s morningstar, giving his countenance a bizarre sunken-in look. But despite the grievous wounds, the balor was casting about for his sword, which had been knocked loose on his impact with the ground. He spied the blade not more than a few feet from Grimclaw’s inert body.
Dragging his broken wing, Hedrenatherax moved to retrieve his sword, his body emitting grotesque grinding and popping noises, as his broken bones straightened and knitted themselves whole again. By the time he stooped to pick up his great jagged edged sword, his wing and arm were completely healed.
With one heavy spike-toed foot, Hedrenatherax rolled the broken body of Grimclaw onto its back. The vrock still lived, although he was a mangled wreck of shattered bone and congealing gore. Incredibly, Grimclaw was trying to speak, his breath echoing through his open beak in a barely audible wheeze. Curious, Hedrenatherax leaned down to hear his foe’s final words.
“Forgive….” The vrock’s eyes were hazed and distant. “Forgive me my lord… I have failed you.” The anguish in those words smote Hedrenatherax with their potency, although he felt no remorse, only the casual regret one might have for losing a useful object.
“Such a waste.” Hedrenatherax muttered and lifted his sword over his head. The blade flashed down once, and then once more, ending the life of a most remarkable demon, a fiend who had fallen victim to his own sense of loyalty and honor.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
(cool, devious smiley)
