Bryon_Soulweaver
First Post
March. May. June.......... ITS OCTOBER............................................ :\
Metamorphosis: From Dretch to Demon Lord - Ascension Released!
- Thread starter BLACKDIRGE
- Start date
BLACKDIRGE
Adventurer
You didn't think I'd let it go a whole year now did you? 
No excuses, I'll try to update as much as possible. My schedule is a bit lighter in the coming months so you should see more of Hazergal, Pyrak and the gang.
Oh and a special thanks for the great article about Pazuzu by James Jacobs in Dragon 329. It gave me a lot of ideas for this update and those in the future.
I hope it was worth the wait.
Blackdirge.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Part XIV
Hazergal looked out over a jagged landscape of craggy towers and soaring peaks, his breath catching in his throat at a sight that few mortals had even dreamed of. The world fell away in a ragged network of stony quills in all directions, the ground invisible, but certainly present thousands of feet below, nestled in sheer chasms and deep pits between the thrusting teeth of endless spires. The wind howled in a banshee shriek, whipping through the narrow spaces in ceaseless gales of hurricane strength, shaking the foundations of each treacherous summit and casting down the weakest to thunderous ruin far below. All was bathed in visceral red by the light from two glaring suns. The murky illumination seeped down through the heavy cloud cover, painting the spires of stone and obsidian a gaudy shade of scarlet, giving them the appearance of great blunt knives wet with newly spilled blood.
Life here hung in the skies, great flocks of winged demons and other airborne horrors alighted from peak to peak, nesting in aeries carved into mountain spires, or simply riding the turbulent eddies of the gnashing wind, forsaking any firmament. To Hazergal this jumbled and broken landscape had become home, and the once human wizard regarded it as such due in large part to the changes wrought upon his body in the recent past. Hazergal had once again climbed the evolutionary ladder of demon-kind, from dretch to babau, and now babau to vrock. For the first time since his exile to the abyss, Hazergal felt power not only flowing from the great reservoir of arcane might locked away in his mind, but also in the raw and visceral strength of his body. As a vrock he stood nearly eleven feet in height, every inch of his body covered in dull gray feathers, each quill stiff and knife edged. His hands, although still deft, had gnarled into powerful bird-like talons, while the same transformation had been wrought upon his feet so that he gripped the earth with indefatigable strength. Hazergal’s head was now equipped with a great beak, much like an eagles or hawks bill, sharp as a well-honed blade but nimble enough to allow him to speak normally. But, to the former human, there was no greater and welcomer change than the two massive wings that flared from his back.
Hazergal had become enthralled with intricacies of flight, reveling in the screaming wind against his body, and the fierce rhythm of his own beating wings. He had, of course, experienced flight in an arcane sense, climbing aloft with the aid of powerful magics. But such paltry attempts at aerial grace paled in comparison to soaring under the power of your body’s own natural locomotion. He was by no means an experienced flyer, and clumsy in the extreme compared to other winged demons, yet he thrilled at an experience that other abyssal creatures most likely found as mundane as eating or breathing.
Hazergal stood upon on one of the few places a large number of creatures could gather while not in flight, a massive stone cylinder, which had been shorn off at some point to create a flat mesa-like top some two hundred yards in diameter. The crude platform held a single structure, a tall tower of yellow stone thrusting like a jaundiced finger into the dim red light of an abyssal morning. It was here he had been told to meet his newest benefactor, the ancient and volatile demon lord Pazuzu, to whom this bleak realm belonged.
This meeting had, of course, been devised by Gemnez, who had diligently sought a place to hide Hazergal from the growing suspicions of Hedrenatherax. The newly crowned demon lord believed Hazergal to be dead, having been duped into destroying a babau demon that he believed to be the former arch-wizard. This too had been the work of Gemnez, and although the ruse was simple in the extreme, it was enough to fool the slow wit of one such as Hedrenatherax. But even Hedrenatherax could not be fooled forever, and the demon lord did not trust Gemnez in the least, suspecting the rogue devil’s every action and perpetually attempting to winnow the truth from the baatezu with ham-fisted yet inexhaustible determination. So, Gemnez had chosen to hide Hazergal until more could be learned of his unique talents and whatever destiny fate had dictated was to be his.
The choice of Torremor as a refuge for the former arch-mage seemed odd to Hazergal at first. The demon lord Pazuzu, who styled himself a prince among demons and claimed not only Torremor but the skies above all the myriad planes of the abyss, was renowned for his cleverness and two-faced ambition. But, according to Gemnez, Pazuzu had been thrilled with the idea, claiming to be intrigued with Hazergal’s bizarre ascension through the demonic ranks. The demon lord had offered Hazergal sanctuary, although he had not yet named a price for his hospitality, a facet of the agreement that would most likely be discussed in the impending meeting.
Hazergal had tried to guess at what Pazuzu’s motivations might be, but attempting to second-guess a creature whose guile and resources were legendary, even among demon lords, had proved a fruitless venture. What little he knew of Pazuzu’s history offered no clue to what the demon prince might be up to, except for one nagging bit of abyssal trivia that Gemnez had told him. The rogue baatezu had told Hazergal that Pyrak’s domain of Vrack, now usurped by Hedrenatherax, had once belonged to Pazuzu, in an age so long ago that few remembered it. In addition, Pyrak had once served Pazuzu, acting as the demon prince’s most able lieutenant. But, Pyrak had been unsatisfied with his servitude, and had raised a great host of his vrock brethren in a bid to overthrow his lord and claim Vrack for himself. In the end, it had come down to single bloody combat between Pyrak and Pazuzu, the outcome of which left Hazergal’s current host severely wounded and in exile. In the millennia that had passed between his overthrow and the death of his usurper, Pazuzu had once again risen to his former glory, and in all that time had not once attempted to strike back at Pyrak, a vengeance that now was beyond his reach, thanks to Hedrenatherax.
Hazergal had surmised that Pazuzu’s interest in him had nothing to do with his lost domain, as Pyrak was now dead, and, according to Gemnez, Hedrenatherax would easily fall to the demon prince’s armies if he chose to reclaim his former territory. Beyond this small bit of reckoning, Hazergal could do nothing but take Pazuzu at his word, a very dangerous proposition when one was dealing with demon lords. But, Gemnez had assured him that all would be explained today, and despite his own misgivings about the rogue baatezu and his motivations, Hazergal found that he trusted the exiled devil.
The skies were clear about Hazergal’s mesa, although a multitude of demons, gargoyles, perytons, and other winged horrors perched upon the ramparts of the stone tower behind him. It was one of Pazuzu’s many fortresses in Torremor, called Kyn-Lorath if he remembered correctly, and was rarely visited by the demon prince. Hazergal looked to the west and spotted a number of tiny black shapes hovering just over the horizon. As he watched the shapes took on substance and form, and the human turned demon was able to discern the definite outline of five figures. Four of the shapes dwarfed the fifth, and as they neared the mesa and the tower, Hazergal saw that his host had arrived.
Four demons and one fat devil landed softly at the base of the tower, three of the demons were of a kind Hazergal had never seen before, although he had heard that Pazuzu was served by a rare and powerful breed of fiends known as the anzu. These anzu, for they could only be those shadowy servitors of the demon prince, were massive, the size of elephants, and were covered in a greasy black plumes, their heavy bodies supported by thick legs ending in taloned bird-like feet. For aerial locomotion the anzu were equipped with four mammoth wings, large enough to lift such a ponderous body into the air. The anzu were not stupid beasts, for at the end of their long serpentine necks were grim lion-like visages, each burning with fell intelligence and awful malice.
The fourth demon, almost unimpressive when compared to his anzu guardians, was Pazuzu himself, and he strode purposefully towards Hazergal, followed by the giant, gaudy form of Gemnez. Unlike many demon lords, who attained the size of giants, Pazuzu stood only six feet in height, his robust frame no more impressive than that of a large human. He was, however, most certainly not human, his abyssal origin was quite evident in his grim demonic visage, four powerful wings, and sturdy talons at his hands and feet. Pazuzu’s face, although alluring, was terribly bestial, combining the features of a man with that of a large hunting bird such as a hawk or eagle. A spiky nest of stiff feathers, blood red in hue, crowned the archfiend’s head, jutting out over his high noble brow and standing straight up like a crop of thick bloody nails. Pazuzu’s eyes were an odd dichotomy, set in his decidedly demonic features, they were a icy shade of blue, humor filled and bright, and served as an onlooker’s only refuge in an incarnate form of pure evil and chaos.
As Pazuzu approached, Hazergal noticed a wispy vapor of black smoke that clung to the demon lord like a shroud, seeming to emanate from his wings, and follow him in a gauzy cloak. The archfiend bore a smile upon his lipless, yet completely emotive beak-like mouth, and his eyes twinkled merrily, as if the he were about to relate a particularly bawdy tale or on off-color joke. Behind him lingered Gemnez, his rotund body girded with layers of sloppy fat, his bright beady eyes that missed nothing and noted everything beaming out over his absurd rouged cheeks and flamboyant red lip paint. Behind Gemnez came the anzu, wary and stalking, they followed behind their master, bodies tense, quite ready to leap forward and tear to pieces any enemy Pazuzu might encounter.
“Lord Pazuzu.” Hazergal named his host, and bowed when the archfiend finally stood before him.
“Well, you’re a proper sort, aren’t you, Hazergal.” Pazuzu said with a chuckle. “That’s the first time I’ve seen a vrock bow to anything. I usually have to cut their legs off at the knees to get them to grovel so low.”
Hazergal straightened, and looked down upon his benefactor who stood almost half as tall as he did. “I meant no offense, I only wished to offer my respect to one whose hospitality I have come to enjoy.”
“Hospitality he says.” Pazuzu looked back over his shoulder at Gemnez still smiling. “Well, it’s certainly obvious our friend here was a mortal in the not too distance past.” Pazuzu looked back at Hazergal, his eyes suddenly losing their luster, becoming cold and hard. “You will soon learn that there is no hospitality in the abyss, or for that matter mercy, or loyalty, or any of those paltry little contrivances you mortals have concocted to fool yourselves with notions of nobility and civilization. Here there is only advantage and disadvantage.”
“I see.” Hazergal said. “And which am I, advantage or disadvantage?”
“That remains to be seen.” Pazuzu replied, the smile falling from his face and leaving only a hard slash. “Perhaps you can offer me something I can use, something that will allow me to gain advantage, or perhaps yon anzu will tear you into ribbons and feast on your guts.” The anzu behind Pazuzu growled restlessly, obviously hoping for just such an occurrence.
Hazergal sighed and rolled his eyes. “This is what I have come to expect from your ilk, Lord Pazuzu. Nothing more than blustering and bullying. Not one of you so called demon “lords” has shown the slightest hint of anything bordering on nobility, let alone the wisdom to discern your own foolishness.”
“Foolishness?” Pazuzu hissed, his breath leaking from between his jaws in an acidic vapor. “For fifteen millennia have I survived the machinations of this damnable plane, and I have done so by avoiding any and all foolishness. Although your fat friend there” - Pazuzu cast a glance over his shoulder at Gemnez - “is quite adept at making foolishness seem like perfect sense.”
“You are too kind, my prince.” Gemnez purred, stepping between Hazergal and Pazuzu, his feminine whisper an absurd contradiction coming from his great reptilian lips. “I know that the three of us can certainly enter into a mutually beneficial agreement that will give each of us exactly what we want.”
“And what do I want, fat one?” Pazuzu asked flippantly, not really expecting a reply, but something in Hazergal’s mind thrummed, like the tumblers in a lock suddenly clicking into place, and he knew what the demon lord desired.
“You want the sword. You want Fiendbleeder.” Hazergal said calmly, his tone accusing but not overly so.
Pazuzu’s eyes narrowed, but his smile returned, a knife bladed smirk that spoke volumes about the demon lord’s notoriously capricious nature. “And why would I want such a trinket? I have hundreds of enchanted blades.”
“Not like Fiendbleeder.” Hazergal said. “That sword is unique, and powerful enough to tempt even one such as you.” Hazergal had learned much about Fiendbleeder in his time on Torremor from Gemnez, who believed that the sentient sword had much to do with Pyrak’s death and the fate of Hazergal himself. The former arch-mage had learned that Fiendbleeder had been in control of Pyrak much of the time, its powerful will dominating the demon lord and pushing him to achieve its aims, namely the destruction of the baatezu.
“He is quick, this one.” Pazuzu grinned, seemingly unperturbed at the discovery of his aims. “Yes, I want the sword, but not for what you might think.”
“You can’t control it.” Hazergal said flatly. “It consumed Pyrak and he was mightier than you.”
“Mightier, maybe.” Pazuzu conceded. “Smarter, definitely not, as evidenced by his recent death at the hands of that ingrate Hedrenatherax.”
“Then for what purpose do you require the sword?” Hazergal asked.
“Simple.” Pazuzu replied. “Vengeance.”
“Vengeance? Whom do you mean to slay?”
“No, you misunderstand. I do not wish to use Fiendbleeder to take vengeance on some enemy. I mean to take vengeance on Fiendbleeder itself.” Pazuzu eyes suddenly flashed, and Hazergal could see that his was completely and utterly serious.
“You wish to take vengeance on a sword?” Hazergal said unable to keep the mocking incredulity from his voice, although Pazuzu did not seem to notice.
“It is not an entirely ridiculous notion, Hazergal.” Gemnez spoke up. “The sword is possessed of considerable intellect and free will, and has been instrumental in the down fall of several demon lords in its long and storied history. I would suspect that Lord Pazuzu is not the only demon in the abyss that would like to see Fiendbleeder destroyed.
“So you mean to destroy it then?” Hazergal asked, still finding the entire notion of vengeance on an inanimate object absurd, even one such as Fiendbleeder.
Pazuzu slowly sank to his haunches, idly scratching at the ground with one taloned finger. “Yes, I mean to destroy Fiendbleeder, but not before I’ve drowned the gods be damned blade in Solar piss and archon tears to assuage some of the debt owed to me.” There was real rancor in the demon lord’s voice, all guile and misdirection had been abandoned, and Pazuzu spoke as one obsessed.
Hazergal stared openly, mouth agape, unable to fathom how the demon lord had survived so long possessed of such lunacy. “You’re talking about torture. You mean to torture a sword?”
Pazuzu looked up at Hazergal, his eyes suddenly smoldering with terrible wrath. “It is not just a sword, my naïve little worm.” The demon lord spat, a subtle viciousness creeping into his tone. “It is an entity possessed of a dark and cunning intellect and a will that is nigh unstoppable my mortal and immortal alike.” Pazuzu stood, brought his taloned hands to his chest and ripped open the leather tunic he wore to reveal a huge livid scar that ran the length of his muscular torso. “Do you see this?”
Hazergal nodded, noting that the scar was outlined in cracked black flesh, which ran with yellow pus and must be causing the demon lord a considerable amount of pain.
“For eight thousand years I have lived with this…affliction, this corruption of my flesh. A result of the one and only time anyone or anything has managed to lay arms upon me.” Pazuzu seethed, his rage had become a physical entity, a palpable presence that cause Gemnez and the anzu to shrink back, although Hazergal held his ground.
“Pyrak did that to you?”
“NO!” Pazuzu suddenly shouted, tearing at the remains of his leather tunic like a mad man. “No! That lice ridden fool would never have been able to challenge me had it not been for Fiendbleeder. It was the sword, only the sword that drove Pyrak to his coup, gave him the strength to dethrone me.”
It made perfect sense; Pyrak had been Pazuzu’s able lieutenant, marshaling the demon lord’s armies while he still maintained the plains of Vrack. Pyrak’s overthrow of Pazuzu had been unforeseen by all, including Pazuzu himself, and the great vrock had caught his former master off guard and unaware. Where and how Pyrak had found Fiendbleeder was a mystery, but there was little doubt that the sword had been the sole reason that his usurpation of Vrack had been a success. And now, with Pyrak dead, Pazuzu had but one vessel for his rage, one outlet for the pain he had suffered these long millennia.
“Alright, lord Pazuzu, what do I have to do with all of this? How can I help you claim this vengeance?” Hazergal asked, already suspecting the answer.
Pazuzu’s demeanor suddenly changed, the rage left him as suddenly as it had appeared, and his eyes once again shown with volatile mirth. “I shall need you to fetch the sword for me.” He said simply. “And in exchange I will continue to provide you with my patronage and the safety of my domain.”
“The details of this arrangement have yet to be worked out, Hazergal.” Gemnez said, stepping forward now that the storm of Pazuzu’s ire had passed. “Although I have set certain elements into motion that will make this task far easier.”
“I imagine you have.” Hazergal replied, knowing that Gemnez had likely been busy in Hedrenatherax’s domain.
“Yes, many details, many, many details.” Pazuzu said smiling balefully. “But, I promise you Hazergal, do this for me, and you shall win my favor, a powerful boon opon this plane.’
“I am sure.” Hazergal said, not attempting to hide the seething doubt that had firmly taken root in the pit of his stomach.
“Good. Then let me offer you the use of Kyn-Lorath while you dwell upon Torremor.” Pazuzu said, waiving a hand towards the stone tower that dominated the mesa. “Now come, there is much to discuss.”
Hazergal sighed deeply and followed Pazuzu, Gemnez and the anzu towards Kyn-Lorath. His mind was afire with the possibilities of this new development, but he was unable to quash the feeling that he had stepped from frying pan and firmly into the fire.
No excuses, I'll try to update as much as possible. My schedule is a bit lighter in the coming months so you should see more of Hazergal, Pyrak and the gang.
Oh and a special thanks for the great article about Pazuzu by James Jacobs in Dragon 329. It gave me a lot of ideas for this update and those in the future.
I hope it was worth the wait.
Blackdirge.
_____________________________________________________________________________
Part XIV
Hazergal looked out over a jagged landscape of craggy towers and soaring peaks, his breath catching in his throat at a sight that few mortals had even dreamed of. The world fell away in a ragged network of stony quills in all directions, the ground invisible, but certainly present thousands of feet below, nestled in sheer chasms and deep pits between the thrusting teeth of endless spires. The wind howled in a banshee shriek, whipping through the narrow spaces in ceaseless gales of hurricane strength, shaking the foundations of each treacherous summit and casting down the weakest to thunderous ruin far below. All was bathed in visceral red by the light from two glaring suns. The murky illumination seeped down through the heavy cloud cover, painting the spires of stone and obsidian a gaudy shade of scarlet, giving them the appearance of great blunt knives wet with newly spilled blood.
Life here hung in the skies, great flocks of winged demons and other airborne horrors alighted from peak to peak, nesting in aeries carved into mountain spires, or simply riding the turbulent eddies of the gnashing wind, forsaking any firmament. To Hazergal this jumbled and broken landscape had become home, and the once human wizard regarded it as such due in large part to the changes wrought upon his body in the recent past. Hazergal had once again climbed the evolutionary ladder of demon-kind, from dretch to babau, and now babau to vrock. For the first time since his exile to the abyss, Hazergal felt power not only flowing from the great reservoir of arcane might locked away in his mind, but also in the raw and visceral strength of his body. As a vrock he stood nearly eleven feet in height, every inch of his body covered in dull gray feathers, each quill stiff and knife edged. His hands, although still deft, had gnarled into powerful bird-like talons, while the same transformation had been wrought upon his feet so that he gripped the earth with indefatigable strength. Hazergal’s head was now equipped with a great beak, much like an eagles or hawks bill, sharp as a well-honed blade but nimble enough to allow him to speak normally. But, to the former human, there was no greater and welcomer change than the two massive wings that flared from his back.
Hazergal had become enthralled with intricacies of flight, reveling in the screaming wind against his body, and the fierce rhythm of his own beating wings. He had, of course, experienced flight in an arcane sense, climbing aloft with the aid of powerful magics. But such paltry attempts at aerial grace paled in comparison to soaring under the power of your body’s own natural locomotion. He was by no means an experienced flyer, and clumsy in the extreme compared to other winged demons, yet he thrilled at an experience that other abyssal creatures most likely found as mundane as eating or breathing.
Hazergal stood upon on one of the few places a large number of creatures could gather while not in flight, a massive stone cylinder, which had been shorn off at some point to create a flat mesa-like top some two hundred yards in diameter. The crude platform held a single structure, a tall tower of yellow stone thrusting like a jaundiced finger into the dim red light of an abyssal morning. It was here he had been told to meet his newest benefactor, the ancient and volatile demon lord Pazuzu, to whom this bleak realm belonged.
This meeting had, of course, been devised by Gemnez, who had diligently sought a place to hide Hazergal from the growing suspicions of Hedrenatherax. The newly crowned demon lord believed Hazergal to be dead, having been duped into destroying a babau demon that he believed to be the former arch-wizard. This too had been the work of Gemnez, and although the ruse was simple in the extreme, it was enough to fool the slow wit of one such as Hedrenatherax. But even Hedrenatherax could not be fooled forever, and the demon lord did not trust Gemnez in the least, suspecting the rogue devil’s every action and perpetually attempting to winnow the truth from the baatezu with ham-fisted yet inexhaustible determination. So, Gemnez had chosen to hide Hazergal until more could be learned of his unique talents and whatever destiny fate had dictated was to be his.
The choice of Torremor as a refuge for the former arch-mage seemed odd to Hazergal at first. The demon lord Pazuzu, who styled himself a prince among demons and claimed not only Torremor but the skies above all the myriad planes of the abyss, was renowned for his cleverness and two-faced ambition. But, according to Gemnez, Pazuzu had been thrilled with the idea, claiming to be intrigued with Hazergal’s bizarre ascension through the demonic ranks. The demon lord had offered Hazergal sanctuary, although he had not yet named a price for his hospitality, a facet of the agreement that would most likely be discussed in the impending meeting.
Hazergal had tried to guess at what Pazuzu’s motivations might be, but attempting to second-guess a creature whose guile and resources were legendary, even among demon lords, had proved a fruitless venture. What little he knew of Pazuzu’s history offered no clue to what the demon prince might be up to, except for one nagging bit of abyssal trivia that Gemnez had told him. The rogue baatezu had told Hazergal that Pyrak’s domain of Vrack, now usurped by Hedrenatherax, had once belonged to Pazuzu, in an age so long ago that few remembered it. In addition, Pyrak had once served Pazuzu, acting as the demon prince’s most able lieutenant. But, Pyrak had been unsatisfied with his servitude, and had raised a great host of his vrock brethren in a bid to overthrow his lord and claim Vrack for himself. In the end, it had come down to single bloody combat between Pyrak and Pazuzu, the outcome of which left Hazergal’s current host severely wounded and in exile. In the millennia that had passed between his overthrow and the death of his usurper, Pazuzu had once again risen to his former glory, and in all that time had not once attempted to strike back at Pyrak, a vengeance that now was beyond his reach, thanks to Hedrenatherax.
Hazergal had surmised that Pazuzu’s interest in him had nothing to do with his lost domain, as Pyrak was now dead, and, according to Gemnez, Hedrenatherax would easily fall to the demon prince’s armies if he chose to reclaim his former territory. Beyond this small bit of reckoning, Hazergal could do nothing but take Pazuzu at his word, a very dangerous proposition when one was dealing with demon lords. But, Gemnez had assured him that all would be explained today, and despite his own misgivings about the rogue baatezu and his motivations, Hazergal found that he trusted the exiled devil.
The skies were clear about Hazergal’s mesa, although a multitude of demons, gargoyles, perytons, and other winged horrors perched upon the ramparts of the stone tower behind him. It was one of Pazuzu’s many fortresses in Torremor, called Kyn-Lorath if he remembered correctly, and was rarely visited by the demon prince. Hazergal looked to the west and spotted a number of tiny black shapes hovering just over the horizon. As he watched the shapes took on substance and form, and the human turned demon was able to discern the definite outline of five figures. Four of the shapes dwarfed the fifth, and as they neared the mesa and the tower, Hazergal saw that his host had arrived.
Four demons and one fat devil landed softly at the base of the tower, three of the demons were of a kind Hazergal had never seen before, although he had heard that Pazuzu was served by a rare and powerful breed of fiends known as the anzu. These anzu, for they could only be those shadowy servitors of the demon prince, were massive, the size of elephants, and were covered in a greasy black plumes, their heavy bodies supported by thick legs ending in taloned bird-like feet. For aerial locomotion the anzu were equipped with four mammoth wings, large enough to lift such a ponderous body into the air. The anzu were not stupid beasts, for at the end of their long serpentine necks were grim lion-like visages, each burning with fell intelligence and awful malice.
The fourth demon, almost unimpressive when compared to his anzu guardians, was Pazuzu himself, and he strode purposefully towards Hazergal, followed by the giant, gaudy form of Gemnez. Unlike many demon lords, who attained the size of giants, Pazuzu stood only six feet in height, his robust frame no more impressive than that of a large human. He was, however, most certainly not human, his abyssal origin was quite evident in his grim demonic visage, four powerful wings, and sturdy talons at his hands and feet. Pazuzu’s face, although alluring, was terribly bestial, combining the features of a man with that of a large hunting bird such as a hawk or eagle. A spiky nest of stiff feathers, blood red in hue, crowned the archfiend’s head, jutting out over his high noble brow and standing straight up like a crop of thick bloody nails. Pazuzu’s eyes were an odd dichotomy, set in his decidedly demonic features, they were a icy shade of blue, humor filled and bright, and served as an onlooker’s only refuge in an incarnate form of pure evil and chaos.
As Pazuzu approached, Hazergal noticed a wispy vapor of black smoke that clung to the demon lord like a shroud, seeming to emanate from his wings, and follow him in a gauzy cloak. The archfiend bore a smile upon his lipless, yet completely emotive beak-like mouth, and his eyes twinkled merrily, as if the he were about to relate a particularly bawdy tale or on off-color joke. Behind him lingered Gemnez, his rotund body girded with layers of sloppy fat, his bright beady eyes that missed nothing and noted everything beaming out over his absurd rouged cheeks and flamboyant red lip paint. Behind Gemnez came the anzu, wary and stalking, they followed behind their master, bodies tense, quite ready to leap forward and tear to pieces any enemy Pazuzu might encounter.
“Lord Pazuzu.” Hazergal named his host, and bowed when the archfiend finally stood before him.
“Well, you’re a proper sort, aren’t you, Hazergal.” Pazuzu said with a chuckle. “That’s the first time I’ve seen a vrock bow to anything. I usually have to cut their legs off at the knees to get them to grovel so low.”
Hazergal straightened, and looked down upon his benefactor who stood almost half as tall as he did. “I meant no offense, I only wished to offer my respect to one whose hospitality I have come to enjoy.”
“Hospitality he says.” Pazuzu looked back over his shoulder at Gemnez still smiling. “Well, it’s certainly obvious our friend here was a mortal in the not too distance past.” Pazuzu looked back at Hazergal, his eyes suddenly losing their luster, becoming cold and hard. “You will soon learn that there is no hospitality in the abyss, or for that matter mercy, or loyalty, or any of those paltry little contrivances you mortals have concocted to fool yourselves with notions of nobility and civilization. Here there is only advantage and disadvantage.”
“I see.” Hazergal said. “And which am I, advantage or disadvantage?”
“That remains to be seen.” Pazuzu replied, the smile falling from his face and leaving only a hard slash. “Perhaps you can offer me something I can use, something that will allow me to gain advantage, or perhaps yon anzu will tear you into ribbons and feast on your guts.” The anzu behind Pazuzu growled restlessly, obviously hoping for just such an occurrence.
Hazergal sighed and rolled his eyes. “This is what I have come to expect from your ilk, Lord Pazuzu. Nothing more than blustering and bullying. Not one of you so called demon “lords” has shown the slightest hint of anything bordering on nobility, let alone the wisdom to discern your own foolishness.”
“Foolishness?” Pazuzu hissed, his breath leaking from between his jaws in an acidic vapor. “For fifteen millennia have I survived the machinations of this damnable plane, and I have done so by avoiding any and all foolishness. Although your fat friend there” - Pazuzu cast a glance over his shoulder at Gemnez - “is quite adept at making foolishness seem like perfect sense.”
“You are too kind, my prince.” Gemnez purred, stepping between Hazergal and Pazuzu, his feminine whisper an absurd contradiction coming from his great reptilian lips. “I know that the three of us can certainly enter into a mutually beneficial agreement that will give each of us exactly what we want.”
“And what do I want, fat one?” Pazuzu asked flippantly, not really expecting a reply, but something in Hazergal’s mind thrummed, like the tumblers in a lock suddenly clicking into place, and he knew what the demon lord desired.
“You want the sword. You want Fiendbleeder.” Hazergal said calmly, his tone accusing but not overly so.
Pazuzu’s eyes narrowed, but his smile returned, a knife bladed smirk that spoke volumes about the demon lord’s notoriously capricious nature. “And why would I want such a trinket? I have hundreds of enchanted blades.”
“Not like Fiendbleeder.” Hazergal said. “That sword is unique, and powerful enough to tempt even one such as you.” Hazergal had learned much about Fiendbleeder in his time on Torremor from Gemnez, who believed that the sentient sword had much to do with Pyrak’s death and the fate of Hazergal himself. The former arch-mage had learned that Fiendbleeder had been in control of Pyrak much of the time, its powerful will dominating the demon lord and pushing him to achieve its aims, namely the destruction of the baatezu.
“He is quick, this one.” Pazuzu grinned, seemingly unperturbed at the discovery of his aims. “Yes, I want the sword, but not for what you might think.”
“You can’t control it.” Hazergal said flatly. “It consumed Pyrak and he was mightier than you.”
“Mightier, maybe.” Pazuzu conceded. “Smarter, definitely not, as evidenced by his recent death at the hands of that ingrate Hedrenatherax.”
“Then for what purpose do you require the sword?” Hazergal asked.
“Simple.” Pazuzu replied. “Vengeance.”
“Vengeance? Whom do you mean to slay?”
“No, you misunderstand. I do not wish to use Fiendbleeder to take vengeance on some enemy. I mean to take vengeance on Fiendbleeder itself.” Pazuzu eyes suddenly flashed, and Hazergal could see that his was completely and utterly serious.
“You wish to take vengeance on a sword?” Hazergal said unable to keep the mocking incredulity from his voice, although Pazuzu did not seem to notice.
“It is not an entirely ridiculous notion, Hazergal.” Gemnez spoke up. “The sword is possessed of considerable intellect and free will, and has been instrumental in the down fall of several demon lords in its long and storied history. I would suspect that Lord Pazuzu is not the only demon in the abyss that would like to see Fiendbleeder destroyed.
“So you mean to destroy it then?” Hazergal asked, still finding the entire notion of vengeance on an inanimate object absurd, even one such as Fiendbleeder.
Pazuzu slowly sank to his haunches, idly scratching at the ground with one taloned finger. “Yes, I mean to destroy Fiendbleeder, but not before I’ve drowned the gods be damned blade in Solar piss and archon tears to assuage some of the debt owed to me.” There was real rancor in the demon lord’s voice, all guile and misdirection had been abandoned, and Pazuzu spoke as one obsessed.
Hazergal stared openly, mouth agape, unable to fathom how the demon lord had survived so long possessed of such lunacy. “You’re talking about torture. You mean to torture a sword?”
Pazuzu looked up at Hazergal, his eyes suddenly smoldering with terrible wrath. “It is not just a sword, my naïve little worm.” The demon lord spat, a subtle viciousness creeping into his tone. “It is an entity possessed of a dark and cunning intellect and a will that is nigh unstoppable my mortal and immortal alike.” Pazuzu stood, brought his taloned hands to his chest and ripped open the leather tunic he wore to reveal a huge livid scar that ran the length of his muscular torso. “Do you see this?”
Hazergal nodded, noting that the scar was outlined in cracked black flesh, which ran with yellow pus and must be causing the demon lord a considerable amount of pain.
“For eight thousand years I have lived with this…affliction, this corruption of my flesh. A result of the one and only time anyone or anything has managed to lay arms upon me.” Pazuzu seethed, his rage had become a physical entity, a palpable presence that cause Gemnez and the anzu to shrink back, although Hazergal held his ground.
“Pyrak did that to you?”
“NO!” Pazuzu suddenly shouted, tearing at the remains of his leather tunic like a mad man. “No! That lice ridden fool would never have been able to challenge me had it not been for Fiendbleeder. It was the sword, only the sword that drove Pyrak to his coup, gave him the strength to dethrone me.”
It made perfect sense; Pyrak had been Pazuzu’s able lieutenant, marshaling the demon lord’s armies while he still maintained the plains of Vrack. Pyrak’s overthrow of Pazuzu had been unforeseen by all, including Pazuzu himself, and the great vrock had caught his former master off guard and unaware. Where and how Pyrak had found Fiendbleeder was a mystery, but there was little doubt that the sword had been the sole reason that his usurpation of Vrack had been a success. And now, with Pyrak dead, Pazuzu had but one vessel for his rage, one outlet for the pain he had suffered these long millennia.
“Alright, lord Pazuzu, what do I have to do with all of this? How can I help you claim this vengeance?” Hazergal asked, already suspecting the answer.
Pazuzu’s demeanor suddenly changed, the rage left him as suddenly as it had appeared, and his eyes once again shown with volatile mirth. “I shall need you to fetch the sword for me.” He said simply. “And in exchange I will continue to provide you with my patronage and the safety of my domain.”
“The details of this arrangement have yet to be worked out, Hazergal.” Gemnez said, stepping forward now that the storm of Pazuzu’s ire had passed. “Although I have set certain elements into motion that will make this task far easier.”
“I imagine you have.” Hazergal replied, knowing that Gemnez had likely been busy in Hedrenatherax’s domain.
“Yes, many details, many, many details.” Pazuzu said smiling balefully. “But, I promise you Hazergal, do this for me, and you shall win my favor, a powerful boon opon this plane.’
“I am sure.” Hazergal said, not attempting to hide the seething doubt that had firmly taken root in the pit of his stomach.
“Good. Then let me offer you the use of Kyn-Lorath while you dwell upon Torremor.” Pazuzu said, waiving a hand towards the stone tower that dominated the mesa. “Now come, there is much to discuss.”
Hazergal sighed deeply and followed Pazuzu, Gemnez and the anzu towards Kyn-Lorath. His mind was afire with the possibilities of this new development, but he was unable to quash the feeling that he had stepped from frying pan and firmly into the fire.
Elder-Basilisk
First Post
Fortunately, as a Vrock, Hazergal has fire resistance 10....
It's good to see you posting again Blackdirge.
Evilhalfling
Adventurer
Whee - I guess I should have read further into this thread before stealing the concept.
I ran a dretch with 2 levels of sorcerer in a home game, he was used as a dupe, and bait for a trap. After 16 sessions, his portrail was still fondly remembered by the players.
I added a few more levels for a PbP game, then the DM changed the perameters, and bumped us up to 15 ECL. Panicking to explain how he had reached such power, I stole the recovered memories idea and BoB is now an 11th level sorcerer. He has the benfit of a large number of no SR/save spells and 200k in equipment. but ...
With an 8 int, he is still a pawn and a dupe and even his quasit familiar has orders to set him up, and loot the body. If he ends the campaign well I will be disappointed.
His rise is not the planeshaking that is going on here, more of a temporary anomoly.
BoB
I look forward to further updates,
I ran a dretch with 2 levels of sorcerer in a home game, he was used as a dupe, and bait for a trap. After 16 sessions, his portrail was still fondly remembered by the players.
I added a few more levels for a PbP game, then the DM changed the perameters, and bumped us up to 15 ECL. Panicking to explain how he had reached such power, I stole the recovered memories idea and BoB is now an 11th level sorcerer. He has the benfit of a large number of no SR/save spells and 200k in equipment. but ...
With an 8 int, he is still a pawn and a dupe and even his quasit familiar has orders to set him up, and loot the body. If he ends the campaign well I will be disappointed.
His rise is not the planeshaking that is going on here, more of a temporary anomoly.
BoB
I look forward to further updates,
OurManMute
First Post
Yay! Thanks Blackdirge, it's excellent as ever. I knew sacrificing celestials to you would work out. It's a pity it took me so long to find a Solar...
Graywolf-ELM
Explorer
Most excellent. I had given up hope of seeing more of this story. If you write it as a book, you have 1 sale here.
GW
GW
Darmanicus
I'm Ray...of Enfeeblement
Welcome back BD and nice update.
Rikandur Azebol
First Post
BLACKDIRGE ! BLACKDIRGE ! All hail BLACKDIRGE ! 
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