Feudal Hell, a chaotic realm. Demon Lords constantly strive for power over each other, for ruler ship over the demonic rabble of Hell, and for the most precious resource; the human soul. Occasionally, a lord will gain enough power to challenge for ruler ship over Hell itself, but they never succeed. The cycle will begin anew, with yet another Lord vying for power over Hell.
But, all cycles must be broken.
With the last foray into Sanctuary halted, Hell was forced to bide its' time until their forces were sufficient to once more attempt to scour the last of Heaven's forces, and with the angels swept aside, finally be free to harvest Sanctuary of every man, woman, and child.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend is common saying among mortals, and it is just as valid within the burning pits of Hell. All except the most treacherous Lords of hell unite under the burning banners of the Three when the time comes to invade the world of Sanctuary.
This, is such a time.
"Hello, Damarus." whispered a foreign voice. Not foreign in the sense of otherworldly, no, it was definitely a denizen of Hell.
But, foreign in the sense that Damarus did not know who was watching him, or why.
"Who calls?" Damarus said to the air, several of the nearby imps looked at him suspiciously, the closest of which returned to work with a firm slap to the head. Damarus was currently overseeing a mining operation, delving into the eastern shores of the Lake Blackmire, a volatile sulfuric lake in one of the lower planes of Hell.
"Who is not important, all that matters, is that I want you to do me a favor. No repayment will be given for this favor, think of this.. as conscription." whispered the voice, now growing in intensity.
"What if I refuse to do your bidding?" Damarus said once more, the imps paid no attention the second time.
"Well, I can't say that would be possible." the voice replied.
With that, Damarus began to feel the sensation of being summoned, and prepared for the inevitable transportation that was to follow.His limbs tingled, and his vision blurred. His surroundings slowly became fluid, and slowly faded away.
Damarus opened his eyes, and saw one of the most grand halls he had ever seen. He was standing on a runed circle, surrounded by red, and black tiles. The walls arched high above, supported by spires of black, jagged crystal. Imps skittered across the floors, carrying all manner of tools, stone tablets, even weapons in and out of doorways: it looked as if they were preparing for war.
"Ugh... and for a second, I thought I was being summoned to the mortal world." Damarus thought to himself, disappointed that he was still within the confines of Hell.
"The first has arrived, my lord." said another unfamiliar voice. Damarus looked to see a rather malevolent looking figure, standing nearly 6 feet tall with spider like legs. It clicked across the floor, picking up a stone tablet with its' clawed hands, and began scribbling down furiously.
"Thank you, Basoriel. Oversee the others, make sure they are summoned without any trouble." said the voice from earlier, the one that whispered in his ear. Damarus looked towards the figure, and saw what was obviously a Demon Lord. He stood a hulking 9 feet tall, and sat atop a massive throne of obsidian. He gazed down at Damarus through yellow eyes, before raising a clawed finger to his temple.
"Well, you're certainly what I expected. My name is Namphiel, and I'll be your new employer for this eternity."
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"One in every 10 million people can potentially have a headache from this pill." God forbid she is the 0.000000001% of having a headache.
The closer he got to the City of the Damned, the louder the screams got and the hotter the air got. The ground, decrepit and sometimes bloodied, was all Azriel had to look at during his long walk.
"They should really get some imps to clean this filth..."
A sudden feeling overcame him...
"Summoned? Today?! I didn't even do anything, I was just walking!"
For a split second, everything was dark, and then he appeared in a throne room. He stood facing a brooding and massive demon sitting on a blackened throne, his mere presence spelt evil and torment. He looked to his left and saw another demon, a creature with skin that looked cold to the touch.
"Why have I been summoned here? I never did anything, this is absurd."
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I hate the way you cling to ignorance and pass it off as innocence
De'Kamoth slowly awoke from his sleep. He blinked his eyes in attempt to focus in on his surroundings, but instead of waking up in his familiar lair with succubi and whores he awoke inside a great hall surrounded by demon cultists. "Why did you summon me here?" De'Kamoth asked the old demon cultists calmly.
"W-We bring you here, Great De'Kamoth, upon Lord Namphiel..." one old imp said
"Very well," De'Kamoth spoke, "You may leave... all accept you.." he pointed to the old imp who answered his question. The imp looked shocked and an expression of fear overtook his face.
"You hail from the Hells Furnace. Do you not?" the demon inquired as he studied the imp, he was a dark man and stood about six foot tall.
"Y-Yes my lord."
"FOOL!" De'Kamoths voice boomed "I AM NO GOD TO YOU! WHY DO YOU LIE?!"
"I-I apologize..." The imp looked franticly around the room in a desparate attempt to find some help, he began moving backwards slowly, but could not seem to keep his balance for the imps knees were shaking so violently he fell. He quickly got up to his feet and ran away as fast as he could, not looking back once. De'Kamoth enjoyed fear, it was almost like it gave him some sort of renewed energy. He began to make his way through the towering door.
"The door is locked De'Kamoth."
The demon ignored the imp as he made his way, literally, through the door. As he went into the next room he saw the Namphiel with another demon he had not yet seen before.
"Lord Namphiel." De'Kamoth bowed his head in respect "What is your bidding?"
Adulphozael slowly and steadily made his way through the ranks of a great gathering of lesser demons, waiting for the call of their master. Adulphozael had reason to believe this master of theirs had been the one who banished his soul into the abyss, 831 years ago.
The demon had made camp for himself within a tent bearing a large, dark symbol Adulphozael could not identify. He took a peak inside and carefully stepped inside, there stood the leader, overlooking the scrolls he had laid out on the stone table.
"You..."
"What!? Who's there? Show yourself!" "I am Adulphozael, maybe you've heard of me." He said in a dark and brooding tone of voice.
"Adulphozael?! I.. I have never heard such a name in all my life!" "Lies! How dare you lie to the face of your demise!"
A seemingly massive suit of armor appeared in front of the demon, bearing a short sword pointing directly at the unprotected throat of the demon commander. The demon could do nothing but gaze in silent fear into the burning red eyes of the assassin.
"No... no... not you. I am but a simple captain, but I know what you seek." Adulphozael said nothing. The captain cleared his throat. "However, I do not know the location of the one you seek, nobody does. Not anymore. Therefore, you should have no need to harm me in an-"
Before the wretched demon could say more, his gullet was instantly slit open, and his killer vanished. The demon fell forward, gargling, into a pool of his own blood.
Several minutes later, while returning to his solitary lair, Adulphozael began to feel a sensation, similar to one he feels when he disappears. "What is this?!" He said in great confusion. He appeared in a massive hall, standing on a curious circle lined with strange runes and various symbols. It occurred to him he had been summoned, for unknown reasons. The great demon Namphiel stood before him, looking down on him.
"What is thy bidding, my lord, Namphiel..."
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"There's no doughnuts in Diablo. Oohhhh, I just threw it down. BlizzCon exclusive: no doughnuts. -Jay Wilson
Black. As far as the immortal eye can see is only the ink like darkness, save for one light source. The jagged Chasm of Avarice rips across the charcoal landscape and plunges deep into the onyx colored terrain. Black smoke billows up from the great chasm, obscuring some of the light so that only flickers of orange and yellow creep through.
The one place where he wouldn't be searched for. This was his domain.
Something small skitters. A flash of red splits the darkness. Fangs. Talons. Tail. The tiny creature runs as fast as it can. It skids suddenly to a halt, black sand scrapes, pebbles bounce. The small red scaled head flicks from side to side, beady yellow eyes darting back and forth. Heavy panicked breaths exhale from a hole in its face, edged with needle like bones jutting from the flesh.
Smoke, darker than the surrounding landscape, begins to trickle from a crack in the slate-like earth. It works its way upwards glancing off the underbelly of the red demon. His eyes flare wide. Panic sets in. He runs. But he never had a chance to escape evil of this magnitude. The trickle of sooty smoke follows every footstep of the little red demon, until it suddenly vanishes.
A massive billowing cloud of smoke explodes from the obsidian ground just in front of the red demon. Pointed black stone flies in all directions. The red demon slides to a stop. Knees shaking.
Through the shadow and smoke two faint yellow specs of light begin to emerge. Eyes. Then two thick, black, scaled wings rip through the smoke as the beast of darkness lunges forth. A clawed onyx colored hand grabs the throat of the little red creature, the demonic fingers wrapping all the way around the neck.
The shadow demon's jaws part to reveal a burning furnace of horror and trepidation. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" Boomed the monstrous creature."WHO SENT YOU?!" Jets of fire flicking from his eyes and mouth inches from the face of the red imp.
For the red devilkin, the face of the shadow demon was much more terrifying. The shadow demon's eyes bore straight into the soul of the imp and saw his worst fears and brought them to the front of the devilkin's mind. Glimpses of unimaginable deaths at the hands of this black archfiend formed in every minute plume of smoke that stretched from his body. Flames erupted from the back of the black monstrosity. If the red imp could cry, he would have. "I...I...I was just lost I...I...swear!" The terrified imp stammered.
The shadow demon's voice crackled with power as he spoke again. "I AM THE PRINCE OF DREAD!! KNOW THAT AND FLEE FROM THIS PLACE FOR ALL OF ETERNITY!!" He roared, as he flung the red imp flying through the air.
The devilkin smacked on the hard obsidian ground. Bones cracked, and he grimaced. But much worse would happen to him if he stayed. The little imp limped off as quickly as his feeble body could take him.
The Prince of Dread, Zethrael let his flames die down and his smoke dissipate. The Prince relaxed for a split second when he felt a tug at the edge of his mind.
"NO!" The Prince's flames exploded forth from his body, burning a fierce blue. His wings snapped outwards. Zethrael desperately dug his claws into the shale and slate, but it was a futile attempt to prevent the inevitable.
The world shifted to nothingness and Zethrael clawed at emptiness for a moment, and realized that this summoning was different than his last. A different Demon Lord was calling on him. With this knowledge, the Prince stood a little taller, pulled his wings in a bit, and let his fire extinguish itself.
His world shifted again, and Zethrael found solid footing in a magnificent hall. Before him were several demons standing on elaborately runed circles much like the one he currently stood on. He knew none of the demons here save one. The demon Lord Namphiel perched on his obsidian throne. This was a demon Lord, but he was no Lord of Terror. Nothing Namphiel could do would instill the fear like Zethrael had experienced at the hands of Lord Diablo. Or so he thought.
"Why have I been summoned?" Zethrael asked boldly.
The sounds of chains echoed through the dimly lit corridor. Flickering light entered through the tall double wooden doors, followed with laughter.
"Let's go back to my room," a man's voice said through the doorway.
"Alright, lead the way, sweetie," a females voice replied.
The couple walked through the doorway and down the hall. The man, a simple mortal lead an obvious succubus to his room. The fire on Angriel's head was barely lit, but grew more intense as they approached the mortal's chambers. He opened the doors and removed his jacket throwing it onto a nearby chair. He loosened the tie around his neck and sat down on the chest at the foot of his bed. Angriel quickly surveyed the room before closing the door quietly behind her. The mortal motioned for her to come toward him and she did.
"Now where were we?" she spoke softly to him, entrancing him more.
"Right about here," he replied taking his shirt off and starting to unbuckle his pants.
Angriel's hair exploded into a pillar of fire as she drew her demonsteel sabre. She shoved it into the man's chest and let his body fall limp against hers. She grabbed his head, holding it against her breasts as she gave the blade a sharp, gruesome twist. Moans of pleasure whispered from her mouth while she ripped her sword from his chest. She licked the blood from her blade and let his body fall onto the bed. She sheathed her blade and bent over leaving a bloody kiss upon his cheek.
"I'm sure you would have been good too," she spoke to him, "But I have been hungering for so long, I could not-" she was cut off. A tugging sensastion pulled her back away from his corpse and through deminsions.
She appeared in the center of a grand hall, surrounded by a few other demons. Sitting at the front on his masterfully crafted throne was Namphiel.
"What?!" she shrieked looking around the hall, "How can you do this to me, Namphiel?! Can I not relish in the slaughter of my mortal lovers?!"
The flesh beast slowly made his way towards the top. The spire extended for miles into the sky, its tip obscured by a thick, everlasting mist. His sticky body protected him from falling and his strong arms helped him upwards.
As he clenched the rocks, he thought he felt something moving. He held still, waiting to see if it would happen again. After a while he continued his pace. He was delighted as the mist made his face moist. He thought he could see the tip, which seemed to branch into every direction.
The rock suddenly started to move violently. Spikes jutted out between the cracks, piercing his skin. The air started to swirl around him. Water droplets became miniature spears. Within moments his lifeless body tumbled down, mangled beyond all recognition.
"Worthless bugs" Xanthor commented as he resumed his meditation. Hunched, he tried to make contact with the powers that surrounded him. He felt the currents of the air around him and the network of rock below. Yet he also felt another presence.
This wasn't a living presence, but magical. It grew more insistent with each passing moment, tugging at his body. "What next in the parade of constant interruptions?" He muttered as he was summoned into a large hall. Many others had gathered here as well, obviously distressed with the summoning.
Xanthor regained his posture, spread his trinket-laden bones, and awaited the demon's words.
Tyreus stood atop a young child. The boy was fastened tightly to a board with his hands and feet secured. Tyreus ran his claws up and down the boys chest ripping the skin from its flesh. The boy screamed out in pain which only fueled Tyreus' wants. As the boys chest laid open from the wounds, Tyreus expelled a green smoke from his mouth. The smoke entered the boys wounds as blisters began forming. The blisters soon turned into boils and erupted as blood and puss ejected from the boy. The screams became louder as the boy struggled to free himself. Tyreus stretched out all four of his limbs to strengthen the hold on the boys appendages. His claws dug deep into the boy's ankles and wrists.
"I am not done with you yet..." Tyreus informed the boy as he smacked him across the face with his bony tail. He thrusted the tail into the boy's right eye and pulled the eyeball free from its socket. "Perhaps you would like to see what I see?"
Just as Tyreus was enjoying himself, the boy disappeared from his grasp. Tyreus soon realized it was not the boy but he who had left. Tyreus looked around as runes lay on the floor. Other demons stood about. Unsure of his new location, Tyreus began teleporting through the room. In green clouds of smoke, his body vanished only to reappear in another location.
"Who are you? Where am I? What do you want?" Tyreus shrieked out each time he reappeared, never staying in one place long enough for anyone to spot him.
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After more demons materialized around Azriel, he let his guard down. This was clearly not punishment; it was a gathering, a recruitment maybe. He brought down his temper and accepted the events as a normality.
The demons that appeared around him were complete strangers to him. He was sure that if he asked around, he might have recognized a few names by reputation, but that was a foolish task for an overly eager idiot.
"So, Lord Namphiel... I assume that you've summoned me here because not only do you want my services, but because you also saw great potential in the chaos I can spread. Very well, I've grown tired of shattering sanity anyway. I long for a chance to work with the innocent."
And as smug as that may have sounded, it was really the only thing he could assume because hardly anything goes wrong in Hell. The only times when he is ever inquired is when he needs to spread fear in small forest villages. A tiresome and boring job it is, but he got by most of the time... psychological torture was his specialty.
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I hate the way you cling to ignorance and pass it off as innocence
Screwtape was in his study deep in thought when a knock came at the door."Come in," he replied. Opening the door was So'kar his second in command. Clad in his usual black and red granite armour which seemed to seethe with his breathing, coarsing with the burning lava held within it. And slung across his back, one of his many trophies, a great fire sword which he had conquered a huge old demon in possesion of it. He had his masters respect and loyalty to his master in return.
So'kar wasted no time in stating his business. "My Lord, my apologies for intruding. I do not know if you are aware that there has been much talk among the common rabble that a new power has emerged from the City of the Damned. He calls himself Namphiel. They say he is gathering an army."
"What sort of army?" Screwtape asked. For he himself had been relatively unnaware of a gathering of any kind. Though, he thought, these new lords don't last long. Hungry for power and always a clever lieutenant waiting for just the right time to strike and take up his master's throne. Did these new lords ever learn that to rule in hell you must rule with fear and without question. No second chances, no forgiveness, nothing.
"I dug a little deeper," So'kar reflected. "and learned that it's a first wave intended to infiltrate Sanctuary with sleeper demons, which would explain why some of your acquaintances have been called to him as well, my lord. And a few old acquaintances at that. Some say he will be the next great Dark Lord, to rule over Heaven and Hell on top of the human world" Screwtape's head came up at that and So'kar hurriedly added, "but it is only just talk my lord."
"So he is going to Sanctuary is he?" Screwtape thought aloud. And with the mention of infiltration he was surprised that he himself had not been called before the others. No matter, if this squabble of ragtags were going to Sanctuary then they had best be about it, even without him. And good luck to them without Heaven sticking their angelic noses in as well. He was not proud. Was he? He supposed he must be jealous. The opportunity to be on Sanctuary once again would be an enjoyment, a sort of holiday. He would go. He would! "You may take your leave now So'kar, well done, I... I have some business to attend to." His lieutenant bowed and left his study, closing the door leading to the outer processions of The Shroud main hall behind him.
Screwtape sat back in his large throne-like chair slightly puzzled. He let out a sigh and got back to the immediate work on his desk, so many papers to go through. Why did he have to bother with papers? Frustrated he yelled "This is hell! What do I need papers for? And! Ah!" He laughed at his gestured fist, he would find out more about this rabble rousing and their new lord later. He reminded himself of the vital papers infront of him. He tried to focus his attention once more to the situation at hand. 'But why now?' he thought, as his mind momentarily slipped away. The news had slightly disturbed him. Everything was running smooth and according to his plans. He had finally gotten hold of the ancient documents of which he had searched for what seemed like ages for. He had only scratched the surface of what power and what secrets they could reveal.
He shook his head. 'Enough with these concerns, now for some of that human tea I have', he thought. He had acquired a taste for it after years of work on Sanctuary and he had found it helped aid his concentration. He tried to get up out of his seat and something tugged at him. "Ah so they want me after all," he said aloud. He grinned and all of a sudden he vanished completely leaving the study almost as it had been. A select few ancient scrolls that only Screwtape himself had seen had apparently managed to travel with him.
He appeared, standing on a runed circle surrounded by red and black tiles in a giant hall. The high walls arched above, supported by jagged black spires of crystal. Imps skittered across the floors, carrying all sorts of tools, stone tablets, and even weapons in and out of doorways. Some of the creatures carried armfulls of old scrolls, dropping a few and picking them back up. Screwtape would have done anything to have a look at them. The place was a bustle of activity, it looked as if they were indeed preparing for war. The rumor appeared correct.
"Another has arrived, my lord." said an unfamiliar voice. Screwtape looked to its source to see a rather odd looking figure, standing nearly 6 feet tall with spider like legs. It clicked across the stone floor, picking up a writing tablet with its' clawed hands, and began scribbling down notes on its surface. It looked like a list from where he stood.
He looked up ahead to observe a giant demon around 9 feet tall, who sat atop a massive throne of obsidian. He glanced down at Screwtape through old yellow eyes, before raising a clawed finger to his temple in contemplation, as if considering what to eat for what the humans called 'breakfast'.
Screwtape knew that the demon must have got hold of one of the summoning stones. He wondered what lost chasm he found it in or who he had killed for it?. He wouldn't mind having one himself to use for summoning his brethren sworn to The Shroud.
The figure on the the throne abrubtly leaned forward and aided by the firelight Screwtape recognized the face and spoke before the demon could, "Namphiel is it? That's not the name I remember you last having. And no, no your reputation was quite different in those days wasn't it? But you appear to be doing better since we last met. State your purpose, why have you summoned me here?"
Namphiel smiled, if you could call it a smile. "Greetings to you Screwtape. It has been a while hasn't it? But the old ways aside, I have a job for you."
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"So you have come here for information? I have some for you..."
De'Kamoths began seeing more and more demons appear around him, most of them asking the same question which was on his mind.
"So, Lord Namphiel... I assume that you've summoned me here because not only do you want my services, but because you also saw great potential in the chaos I can spread. Very well, I've grown tired of shattering sanity anyway. I long for a chance to work with the innocent." De'Kamoth heard one demon chime in.
"You seem very confident in your abilities. Pride always comes before a fall young one. You must keep that in mind." De'Kamoth said to Azriel.
I believe it is safe to assume we will be undertaking some sort of quest in response to the current campaigning of the Angels. One of my sources told me just yesterday that we were on the verge of all out war. Normally I don't concern myself with such things, but since this would most likely be affecting me significantly I did some digging. I found that that the Angels plan fledge an assault on Hell after the 7th solar cycle this millenium. Of course this could be false... but that is unlikely." De'Kamoth said to the other demons, hoping that his explanation would suffice for the time.
"Lord Namphiel called you..." Was the only answer Tyreus received as he bounced around the room.
"I don't care, I don't care. I was in the middle of some fun and he interrupted me. My master is not going to like this. No. No." Tyreus squealed out as he continued moving about the room. Tyreus began to calm down as he stopped in the last location. "So what now? What are we doing for this demon who interrupted my toy time?"
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"Who is it that dares summon me? My days of following another has long since passed." "But I have need for you." A dark chilling voice resounds and Errtu finds himself standing amongst other Demons. Carefully he looks around. Some of the Demons Errtu recognizes. Others are newer. A smile no one can see comes across his face.
"Your lust for dominance can be of great use. If you are willing to follow."
Follow? Errtu had no desire to follow another ever again. His days of following another and taking orders have long since passed. It was his time now. His anger raged and his form began to grow. Soon he was surrounded by his army of shadow Demons, waiting, ready to do what their master instructed.
"Errtu, I know who you are. You were there for the fall of the Evil one. For millenia you made sure that the burning rings of Hell were filling with the souls of those who defied all that is good. But your lust for dominance and supreme power over took you, and you decided to grow your own army of damned souls. But if you will follow this one last time, I can promise that you will find your own glory."
Errtu shrunk to his normal size. A quick glance from one side to the other and his army of shadow Demons shrunk back to the shadows in which they came.
"I will follow. But for this one time alone. After wards, I will go and take that which is mine. And whom is it that I follow this time?"
"I am Namphiel. And you will not be disappointed." "You have my allegiance."
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Recruiting for East Realm Also recruiting for Sc2 on both EU and NA servers
"Master, all have arrived" chittered Basoriel from beside the throne.
"Good!" Namphiel said, clapping his hands together with obvious joy, Damarus could easily see that Namphiel's plans were coming together, whatever they may be.
Namphiel seemed disturbed by the sudden outbusrt of the other demons, and let loose a lour roar to silence those around him.
"QUIET!! All of your questions will be answered in due time, for now, you must listen." Namphiel said with a look of anger on his face, which quickly faded to concentration.
After several seconds, Namphiel began..
"Gentlemen, if I may call you that... unless you are unaware, Hell is once more making preparations to invade Sanctuary, and in turn, Heaven." Namphiel paused, making sure all of the demons were following his words.
"However, we have yet to amass the resources required to conquer the larger settlements, and we are nowhere near prepared to besiege the gates of Heaven. Even with all of Hell united in this cause, we need more bodies, and we need more souls."
"This, is what my superiors have tasked me with. While other demon lords have been training troops or mining for ores, I have the task of securing the means to increase our ranks. The human soul is one of most effective ways to do so, the soul can be twisted, reshaped, and warped in the depths of the abyss, in turn spawning a demon. The human bodies themselves can also be used to raise undead minions, which in the past, has served to bolster our numbers far beyond what would be possible with a strictly hellish army."
"Thus, I am sending you to Sanctuary, you will be summoned into a cultist shrine, and will have to seek out settlements to harvest. Kill any opposition you encounter, but be sure to leave survivors to be taken back to the shrine."
"Advance scouts have been sent to Sanctuary already, and should you encounter one, it would be wise to accept them into your group as one of your own, you will not find hospitality among the humans."
"Some of you possess armies, some of you estates and followers. All will be enlisted to this cause, and all have been sent to report to the Chaos Sanctuary, our lord Diablo awaits them, and they will all be put to good use. Errtu, I know you in particular have a sizeable following, and thus will be allowed to keep 2 of your preferred soldiers with you, all others must report to the Sanctuary for further instruction."
"Now.... any additional questions will be adressed in the ritual chamber before you are summoned to Sanctuary, Basoriel, if you will..." Namphiel finished, pointing Basoriel, and the rest of the demons, to the doorway behind his throne.
Basoriel bowed deeply, and beckoned for the others to follow him through the doorway.
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"One in every 10 million people can potentially have a headache from this pill." God forbid she is the 0.000000001% of having a headache.
Damarus followed the spider demon through the massive stone doorway, to a chamber similar to the previous. It has the same runed circles, and the same tiled floor, but at the back of the room lied an altar on which rest a human, with a rather wicked looking dagger laying next to his restained body.
Basoriel pointed the demons to the circles, and bid them step onto them.
Damarus nodded and obeyed, stepping onto the first of the circles.
"Now... as for a leader, you will do quite nicely." Basoriel said, pointing to Damarus.
"I will not fail our cause." Damarus said solemnly, confident in his ability to lead this expidition.
"Are there any questions before this summoning commences? We cannot wait long, we must begin as soon as possible."
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"One in every 10 million people can potentially have a headache from this pill." God forbid she is the 0.000000001% of having a headache.
Something about this Demon Lord reminded Zethrael about the his Master's brother, Baal. Maybe it was the way his fingers would brush his temple as he sat on his throne, or perhaps it was the way he pondered every word that would leave his mouth. Or maybe it was what Namphiel feared. His fears did not rest on things like death or dismemberment, his fears were much worse than that. For he simply feared failure at the hands of the Prime Evils.
And that was what interested Zethrael. The Prime Evils! They have returned. But does that mean Lord Diablo has forgiven my past transgressions? If my Lord knew where I was, He could have punished me whenever He wanted.
"Some of you possess armies, some of you estates and followers. All will be enlisted to this cause, and all have been sent to report to the Chaos Sanctuary, our lord Diablo awaits them..."
It is true! Perhaps my Lord isn't angry with me. Did I do well in His stead? Well this will be my chance to prove I am not the young weakling demon I once was when I confronted Belial.
Zethrael followed along with the other demons to the next chamber, just as massive as the previous. Again there were circles and runes inscribed on the floor, but in place of a throne was a stone alter, stained by countless sacrifices. And upon that alter lie a human, bound at the wrists and ankles with jagged steel that dug deep into his flesh. But he wasn't dead just yet, for his purpose was soon to come.
"Now... as for a leader, you will do quite nicely." Basoriel said, pointing to Damarus.
"I will not fail our cause." Damarus said solemnly, confident in his ability to lead this expedition.
Zethrael wondered what this demon had done in his life? Had he led the minions of Diablo head on into the war machines of Azmodon? Had he stood toe to toe in battle with the Lord of Sin himself?No, he had not.
"Are there any questions before this summoning commences? We cannot wait long, we must begin as soon as possible."
"Questions?" Zethrael spoke, "There are many, but all are beyond your knowledge, spiderling." Zethrael mocked as he stepped onto one of the runed circles.
Basoriel raised his clawed hand, and quickly gripped the air tight, choking the air from the demon Zetharael.
"Such insolence will not be tolerated within my master's realm, you think because I am a scribe that I do not possess power? Surely you have never met a mage demon, we often take such positions to better study our craft, and to gather vast pools of knowledge. Take such a tone once more, and your greatest... Terrors will be realized, and their wrath brought down upon you." Basoriel winked as he said this, smug with the knowledge he had collected on each of these demons, Basoriel knew well that they were all picked for a reason, and each would fill their role in due time.
He released his grip, allowing air to flow back into the lungs of the demon.
"Now... have we any real questions, or shall we tempt me once more?" Basoriel scowled as he said this, patience running thin as he ran the blade of the sacrificial dagger along the stone altar.
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"One in every 10 million people can potentially have a headache from this pill." God forbid she is the 0.000000001% of having a headache.
"Now... have we any real questions, or shall we tempt me once more?"
Azriel kept his head down. Basoriel seemed like he would be easily angered given the right situation and he didn't want to get on his bad side. He had nothing to inquire anyway, so he decided to wisp lazily around the room. His voice echoed around the room as he spoke in such a manner that it would return to the listener's ears like a chorus of demonic chant,
"The mortal mind is weak, terribly weak. Manipulation and deception hold unlimited possibilities when dealing with the cur, which is why I revel at the thought of playing with mortals yet again."
He made his way to Namphiel's throne.
"I would like to thank you for this opportunity. To be serving the dark lords and fueling my desire for torment makes this task even more desirable. I will serve you without error, I promise..."
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I hate the way you cling to ignorance and pass it off as innocence
Screwtape laughed at Zethrael's jest. Though he assumed that Basoriel had vast knowledge of his lord's intentions, more than any of the others stepping onto the stones, including himself. Hardly a laughing matter. That thought aside, he nodded his head deep within his hood in acknowledgment of those he recognized and paused momentarily in those he did not. With little use for eyes, he could paint a vivid picture in his head, as if every detail and everything was finely drawn in fire, his hollow sockets bored a hole in his world, for he had seen to much that the eyes could not withstand. He could smell the party's hesitancy too, or lack of it, some were eager, especially Damarus. If only everyone saw like he did, the universe would be much different he supposed. His mind came back; a very strong gathering indeed, he thought. This just might do. The Shroud would enjoy their new quest upon Sanctuary, and he would delight in standing side by side with So'kar, destroying the forces of the light.
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"So you have come here for information? I have some for you..."
Hearing Basoriel's retort to Zetharael's comment, he had guessed right, there was far more to this demon mage than anyone had supposed. He had a growing respect for the spidery fellow.
"Have a care Aurael and settle your tongue, it is not like you to speak out of turn." Screwtape stated. "Damarus is more than worthy of being chosen as leader, you do not know him as I do. He himself is a fortress on the battlefield and you would do well to fight on his side, he is a vanquisher of foes and leader of a large number of loyal followers. He has my full support if he lets me handle my own brethren as I wish. Greetings Damarus, and I believe congratulations are in order are they not?"
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"So you have come here for information? I have some for you..."
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But, all cycles must be broken.
With the last foray into Sanctuary halted, Hell was forced to bide its' time until their forces were sufficient to once more attempt to scour the last of Heaven's forces, and with the angels swept aside, finally be free to harvest Sanctuary of every man, woman, and child.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend is common saying among mortals, and it is just as valid within the burning pits of Hell. All except the most treacherous Lords of hell unite under the burning banners of the Three when the time comes to invade the world of Sanctuary.
This, is such a time.
"Hello, Damarus." whispered a foreign voice. Not foreign in the sense of otherworldly, no, it was definitely a denizen of Hell.
But, foreign in the sense that Damarus did not know who was watching him, or why.
"Who calls?" Damarus said to the air, several of the nearby imps looked at him suspiciously, the closest of which returned to work with a firm slap to the head. Damarus was currently overseeing a mining operation, delving into the eastern shores of the Lake Blackmire, a volatile sulfuric lake in one of the lower planes of Hell.
"Who is not important, all that matters, is that I want you to do me a favor. No repayment will be given for this favor, think of this.. as conscription." whispered the voice, now growing in intensity.
"What if I refuse to do your bidding?" Damarus said once more, the imps paid no attention the second time.
"Well, I can't say that would be possible." the voice replied.
With that, Damarus began to feel the sensation of being summoned, and prepared for the inevitable transportation that was to follow.His limbs tingled, and his vision blurred. His surroundings slowly became fluid, and slowly faded away.
Damarus opened his eyes, and saw one of the most grand halls he had ever seen. He was standing on a runed circle, surrounded by red, and black tiles. The walls arched high above, supported by spires of black, jagged crystal. Imps skittered across the floors, carrying all manner of tools, stone tablets, even weapons in and out of doorways: it looked as if they were preparing for war.
"Ugh... and for a second, I thought I was being summoned to the mortal world." Damarus thought to himself, disappointed that he was still within the confines of Hell.
"The first has arrived, my lord." said another unfamiliar voice. Damarus looked to see a rather malevolent looking figure, standing nearly 6 feet tall with spider like legs. It clicked across the floor, picking up a stone tablet with its' clawed hands, and began scribbling down furiously.
"Thank you, Basoriel. Oversee the others, make sure they are summoned without any trouble." said the voice from earlier, the one that whispered in his ear. Damarus looked towards the figure, and saw what was obviously a Demon Lord. He stood a hulking 9 feet tall, and sat atop a massive throne of obsidian. He gazed down at Damarus through yellow eyes, before raising a clawed finger to his temple.
"Well, you're certainly what I expected. My name is Namphiel, and I'll be your new employer for this eternity."
"They should really get some imps to clean this filth..."
A sudden feeling overcame him...
"Summoned? Today?! I didn't even do anything, I was just walking!"
For a split second, everything was dark, and then he appeared in a throne room. He stood facing a brooding and massive demon sitting on a blackened throne, his mere presence spelt evil and torment. He looked to his left and saw another demon, a creature with skin that looked cold to the touch.
"Why have I been summoned here? I never did anything, this is absurd."
I hate the way you cling to ignorance and pass it off as innocence
"W-We bring you here, Great De'Kamoth, upon Lord Namphiel..." one old imp said
"Very well," De'Kamoth spoke, "You may leave... all accept you.." he pointed to the old imp who answered his question. The imp looked shocked and an expression of fear overtook his face.
"You hail from the Hells Furnace. Do you not?" the demon inquired as he studied the imp, he was a dark man and stood about six foot tall.
"Y-Yes my lord."
"FOOL!" De'Kamoths voice boomed "I AM NO GOD TO YOU! WHY DO YOU LIE?!"
"I-I apologize..." The imp looked franticly around the room in a desparate attempt to find some help, he began moving backwards slowly, but could not seem to keep his balance for the imps knees were shaking so violently he fell. He quickly got up to his feet and ran away as fast as he could, not looking back once. De'Kamoth enjoyed fear, it was almost like it gave him some sort of renewed energy. He began to make his way through the towering door.
"The door is locked De'Kamoth."
The demon ignored the imp as he made his way, literally, through the door. As he went into the next room he saw the Namphiel with another demon he had not yet seen before.
"Lord Namphiel." De'Kamoth bowed his head in respect "What is your bidding?"
The demon had made camp for himself within a tent bearing a large, dark symbol Adulphozael could not identify. He took a peak inside and carefully stepped inside, there stood the leader, overlooking the scrolls he had laid out on the stone table.
"You..."
"What!? Who's there? Show yourself!"
"I am Adulphozael, maybe you've heard of me." He said in a dark and brooding tone of voice.
"Adulphozael?! I.. I have never heard such a name in all my life!"
"Lies! How dare you lie to the face of your demise!"
A seemingly massive suit of armor appeared in front of the demon, bearing a short sword pointing directly at the unprotected throat of the demon commander. The demon could do nothing but gaze in silent fear into the burning red eyes of the assassin.
"No... no... not you. I am but a simple captain, but I know what you seek." Adulphozael said nothing. The captain cleared his throat. "However, I do not know the location of the one you seek, nobody does. Not anymore. Therefore, you should have no need to harm me in an-"
Before the wretched demon could say more, his gullet was instantly slit open, and his killer vanished. The demon fell forward, gargling, into a pool of his own blood.
Several minutes later, while returning to his solitary lair, Adulphozael began to feel a sensation, similar to one he feels when he disappears. "What is this?!" He said in great confusion. He appeared in a massive hall, standing on a curious circle lined with strange runes and various symbols. It occurred to him he had been summoned, for unknown reasons. The great demon Namphiel stood before him, looking down on him.
"What is thy bidding, my lord, Namphiel..."
The one place where he wouldn't be searched for. This was his domain.
Something small skitters. A flash of red splits the darkness. Fangs. Talons. Tail. The tiny creature runs as fast as it can. It skids suddenly to a halt, black sand scrapes, pebbles bounce. The small red scaled head flicks from side to side, beady yellow eyes darting back and forth. Heavy panicked breaths exhale from a hole in its face, edged with needle like bones jutting from the flesh.
Smoke, darker than the surrounding landscape, begins to trickle from a crack in the slate-like earth. It works its way upwards glancing off the underbelly of the red demon. His eyes flare wide. Panic sets in. He runs. But he never had a chance to escape evil of this magnitude. The trickle of sooty smoke follows every footstep of the little red demon, until it suddenly vanishes.
A massive billowing cloud of smoke explodes from the obsidian ground just in front of the red demon. Pointed black stone flies in all directions. The red demon slides to a stop. Knees shaking.
Through the shadow and smoke two faint yellow specs of light begin to emerge. Eyes. Then two thick, black, scaled wings rip through the smoke as the beast of darkness lunges forth. A clawed onyx colored hand grabs the throat of the little red creature, the demonic fingers wrapping all the way around the neck.
The shadow demon's jaws part to reveal a burning furnace of horror and trepidation. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" Boomed the monstrous creature. "WHO SENT YOU?!" Jets of fire flicking from his eyes and mouth inches from the face of the red imp.
For the red devilkin, the face of the shadow demon was much more terrifying. The shadow demon's eyes bore straight into the soul of the imp and saw his worst fears and brought them to the front of the devilkin's mind. Glimpses of unimaginable deaths at the hands of this black archfiend formed in every minute plume of smoke that stretched from his body. Flames erupted from the back of the black monstrosity. If the red imp could cry, he would have.
"I...I...I was just lost I...I...swear!" The terrified imp stammered.
The shadow demon's voice crackled with power as he spoke again. "I AM THE PRINCE OF DREAD!! KNOW THAT AND FLEE FROM THIS PLACE FOR ALL OF ETERNITY!!" He roared, as he flung the red imp flying through the air.
The devilkin smacked on the hard obsidian ground. Bones cracked, and he grimaced. But much worse would happen to him if he stayed. The little imp limped off as quickly as his feeble body could take him.
The Prince of Dread, Zethrael let his flames die down and his smoke dissipate. The Prince relaxed for a split second when he felt a tug at the edge of his mind.
"NO!" The Prince's flames exploded forth from his body, burning a fierce blue. His wings snapped outwards. Zethrael desperately dug his claws into the shale and slate, but it was a futile attempt to prevent the inevitable.
The world shifted to nothingness and Zethrael clawed at emptiness for a moment, and realized that this summoning was different than his last. A different Demon Lord was calling on him. With this knowledge, the Prince stood a little taller, pulled his wings in a bit, and let his fire extinguish itself.
His world shifted again, and Zethrael found solid footing in a magnificent hall. Before him were several demons standing on elaborately runed circles much like the one he currently stood on. He knew none of the demons here save one. The demon Lord Namphiel perched on his obsidian throne. This was a demon Lord, but he was no Lord of Terror. Nothing Namphiel could do would instill the fear like Zethrael had experienced at the hands of Lord Diablo. Or so he thought.
"Why have I been summoned?" Zethrael asked boldly.
"Let's go back to my room," a man's voice said through the doorway.
"Alright, lead the way, sweetie," a females voice replied.
The couple walked through the doorway and down the hall. The man, a simple mortal lead an obvious succubus to his room. The fire on Angriel's head was barely lit, but grew more intense as they approached the mortal's chambers. He opened the doors and removed his jacket throwing it onto a nearby chair. He loosened the tie around his neck and sat down on the chest at the foot of his bed. Angriel quickly surveyed the room before closing the door quietly behind her. The mortal motioned for her to come toward him and she did.
"Now where were we?" she spoke softly to him, entrancing him more.
"Right about here," he replied taking his shirt off and starting to unbuckle his pants.
Angriel's hair exploded into a pillar of fire as she drew her demonsteel sabre. She shoved it into the man's chest and let his body fall limp against hers. She grabbed his head, holding it against her breasts as she gave the blade a sharp, gruesome twist. Moans of pleasure whispered from her mouth while she ripped her sword from his chest. She licked the blood from her blade and let his body fall onto the bed. She sheathed her blade and bent over leaving a bloody kiss upon his cheek.
"I'm sure you would have been good too," she spoke to him, "But I have been hungering for so long, I could not-" she was cut off. A tugging sensastion pulled her back away from his corpse and through deminsions.
She appeared in the center of a grand hall, surrounded by a few other demons. Sitting at the front on his masterfully crafted throne was Namphiel.
"What?!" she shrieked looking around the hall, "How can you do this to me, Namphiel?! Can I not relish in the slaughter of my mortal lovers?!"
As he clenched the rocks, he thought he felt something moving. He held still, waiting to see if it would happen again. After a while he continued his pace. He was delighted as the mist made his face moist. He thought he could see the tip, which seemed to branch into every direction.
The rock suddenly started to move violently. Spikes jutted out between the cracks, piercing his skin. The air started to swirl around him. Water droplets became miniature spears. Within moments his lifeless body tumbled down, mangled beyond all recognition.
"Worthless bugs" Xanthor commented as he resumed his meditation. Hunched, he tried to make contact with the powers that surrounded him. He felt the currents of the air around him and the network of rock below. Yet he also felt another presence.
This wasn't a living presence, but magical. It grew more insistent with each passing moment, tugging at his body. "What next in the parade of constant interruptions?" He muttered as he was summoned into a large hall. Many others had gathered here as well, obviously distressed with the summoning.
Xanthor regained his posture, spread his trinket-laden bones, and awaited the demon's words.
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"I am not done with you yet..." Tyreus informed the boy as he smacked him across the face with his bony tail. He thrusted the tail into the boy's right eye and pulled the eyeball free from its socket. "Perhaps you would like to see what I see?"
Just as Tyreus was enjoying himself, the boy disappeared from his grasp. Tyreus soon realized it was not the boy but he who had left. Tyreus looked around as runes lay on the floor. Other demons stood about. Unsure of his new location, Tyreus began teleporting through the room. In green clouds of smoke, his body vanished only to reappear in another location.
"Who are you? Where am I? What do you want?" Tyreus shrieked out each time he reappeared, never staying in one place long enough for anyone to spot him.
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The demons that appeared around him were complete strangers to him. He was sure that if he asked around, he might have recognized a few names by reputation, but that was a foolish task for an overly eager idiot.
"So, Lord Namphiel... I assume that you've summoned me here because not only do you want my services, but because you also saw great potential in the chaos I can spread. Very well, I've grown tired of shattering sanity anyway. I long for a chance to work with the innocent."
And as smug as that may have sounded, it was really the only thing he could assume because hardly anything goes wrong in Hell. The only times when he is ever inquired is when he needs to spread fear in small forest villages. A tiresome and boring job it is, but he got by most of the time... psychological torture was his specialty.
I hate the way you cling to ignorance and pass it off as innocence
So'kar wasted no time in stating his business. "My Lord, my apologies for intruding. I do not know if you are aware that there has been much talk among the common rabble that a new power has emerged from the City of the Damned. He calls himself Namphiel. They say he is gathering an army."
"What sort of army?" Screwtape asked. For he himself had been relatively unnaware of a gathering of any kind. Though, he thought, these new lords don't last long. Hungry for power and always a clever lieutenant waiting for just the right time to strike and take up his master's throne. Did these new lords ever learn that to rule in hell you must rule with fear and without question. No second chances, no forgiveness, nothing.
"I dug a little deeper," So'kar reflected. "and learned that it's a first wave intended to infiltrate Sanctuary with sleeper demons, which would explain why some of your acquaintances have been called to him as well, my lord. And a few old acquaintances at that. Some say he will be the next great Dark Lord, to rule over Heaven and Hell on top of the human world" Screwtape's head came up at that and So'kar hurriedly added, "but it is only just talk my lord."
"So he is going to Sanctuary is he?" Screwtape thought aloud. And with the mention of infiltration he was surprised that he himself had not been called before the others. No matter, if this squabble of ragtags were going to Sanctuary then they had best be about it, even without him. And good luck to them without Heaven sticking their angelic noses in as well. He was not proud. Was he? He supposed he must be jealous. The opportunity to be on Sanctuary once again would be an enjoyment, a sort of holiday. He would go. He would! "You may take your leave now So'kar, well done, I... I have some business to attend to." His lieutenant bowed and left his study, closing the door leading to the outer processions of The Shroud main hall behind him.
Screwtape sat back in his large throne-like chair slightly puzzled. He let out a sigh and got back to the immediate work on his desk, so many papers to go through. Why did he have to bother with papers? Frustrated he yelled "This is hell! What do I need papers for? And! Ah!" He laughed at his gestured fist, he would find out more about this rabble rousing and their new lord later. He reminded himself of the vital papers infront of him. He tried to focus his attention once more to the situation at hand. 'But why now?' he thought, as his mind momentarily slipped away. The news had slightly disturbed him. Everything was running smooth and according to his plans. He had finally gotten hold of the ancient documents of which he had searched for what seemed like ages for. He had only scratched the surface of what power and what secrets they could reveal.
He shook his head. 'Enough with these concerns, now for some of that human tea I have', he thought. He had acquired a taste for it after years of work on Sanctuary and he had found it helped aid his concentration. He tried to get up out of his seat and something tugged at him. "Ah so they want me after all," he said aloud. He grinned and all of a sudden he vanished completely leaving the study almost as it had been. A select few ancient scrolls that only Screwtape himself had seen had apparently managed to travel with him.
He appeared, standing on a runed circle surrounded by red and black tiles in a giant hall. The high walls arched above, supported by jagged black spires of crystal. Imps skittered across the floors, carrying all sorts of tools, stone tablets, and even weapons in and out of doorways. Some of the creatures carried armfulls of old scrolls, dropping a few and picking them back up. Screwtape would have done anything to have a look at them. The place was a bustle of activity, it looked as if they were indeed preparing for war. The rumor appeared correct.
"Another has arrived, my lord." said an unfamiliar voice. Screwtape looked to its source to see a rather odd looking figure, standing nearly 6 feet tall with spider like legs. It clicked across the stone floor, picking up a writing tablet with its' clawed hands, and began scribbling down notes on its surface. It looked like a list from where he stood.
He looked up ahead to observe a giant demon around 9 feet tall, who sat atop a massive throne of obsidian. He glanced down at Screwtape through old yellow eyes, before raising a clawed finger to his temple in contemplation, as if considering what to eat for what the humans called 'breakfast'.
Screwtape knew that the demon must have got hold of one of the summoning stones. He wondered what lost chasm he found it in or who he had killed for it?. He wouldn't mind having one himself to use for summoning his brethren sworn to The Shroud.
The figure on the the throne abrubtly leaned forward and aided by the firelight Screwtape recognized the face and spoke before the demon could, "Namphiel is it? That's not the name I remember you last having. And no, no your reputation was quite different in those days wasn't it? But you appear to be doing better since we last met. State your purpose, why have you summoned me here?"
Namphiel smiled, if you could call it a smile. "Greetings to you Screwtape. It has been a while hasn't it? But the old ways aside, I have a job for you."
"So, Lord Namphiel... I assume that you've summoned me here because not only do you want my services, but because you also saw great potential in the chaos I can spread. Very well, I've grown tired of shattering sanity anyway. I long for a chance to work with the innocent." De'Kamoth heard one demon chime in.
"You seem very confident in your abilities. Pride always comes before a fall young one. You must keep that in mind." De'Kamoth said to Azriel.
I believe it is safe to assume we will be undertaking some sort of quest in response to the current campaigning of the Angels. One of my sources told me just yesterday that we were on the verge of all out war. Normally I don't concern myself with such things, but since this would most likely be affecting me significantly I did some digging. I found that that the Angels plan fledge an assault on Hell after the 7th solar cycle this millenium. Of course this could be false... but that is unlikely." De'Kamoth said to the other demons, hoping that his explanation would suffice for the time.
"I don't care, I don't care. I was in the middle of some fun and he interrupted me. My master is not going to like this. No. No." Tyreus squealed out as he continued moving about the room.
Tyreus began to calm down as he stopped in the last location. "So what now? What are we doing for this demon who interrupted my toy time?"
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"But I have need for you." A dark chilling voice resounds and Errtu finds himself standing amongst other Demons. Carefully he looks around. Some of the Demons Errtu recognizes. Others are newer. A smile no one can see comes across his face.
"Your lust for dominance can be of great use. If you are willing to follow."
Follow? Errtu had no desire to follow another ever again. His days of following another and taking orders have long since passed. It was his time now. His anger raged and his form began to grow. Soon he was surrounded by his army of shadow Demons, waiting, ready to do what their master instructed.
"Errtu, I know who you are. You were there for the fall of the Evil one. For millenia you made sure that the burning rings of Hell were filling with the souls of those who defied all that is good. But your lust for dominance and supreme power over took you, and you decided to grow your own army of damned souls. But if you will follow this one last time, I can promise that you will find your own glory."
Errtu shrunk to his normal size. A quick glance from one side to the other and his army of shadow Demons shrunk back to the shadows in which they came.
"I will follow. But for this one time alone. After wards, I will go and take that which is mine. And whom is it that I follow this time?"
"I am Namphiel. And you will not be disappointed."
"You have my allegiance."
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"Good!" Namphiel said, clapping his hands together with obvious joy, Damarus could easily see that Namphiel's plans were coming together, whatever they may be.
Namphiel seemed disturbed by the sudden outbusrt of the other demons, and let loose a lour roar to silence those around him.
"QUIET!! All of your questions will be answered in due time, for now, you must listen." Namphiel said with a look of anger on his face, which quickly faded to concentration.
After several seconds, Namphiel began..
"Gentlemen, if I may call you that... unless you are unaware, Hell is once more making preparations to invade Sanctuary, and in turn, Heaven." Namphiel paused, making sure all of the demons were following his words.
"However, we have yet to amass the resources required to conquer the larger settlements, and we are nowhere near prepared to besiege the gates of Heaven. Even with all of Hell united in this cause, we need more bodies, and we need more souls."
"This, is what my superiors have tasked me with. While other demon lords have been training troops or mining for ores, I have the task of securing the means to increase our ranks. The human soul is one of most effective ways to do so, the soul can be twisted, reshaped, and warped in the depths of the abyss, in turn spawning a demon. The human bodies themselves can also be used to raise undead minions, which in the past, has served to bolster our numbers far beyond what would be possible with a strictly hellish army."
"Thus, I am sending you to Sanctuary, you will be summoned into a cultist shrine, and will have to seek out settlements to harvest. Kill any opposition you encounter, but be sure to leave survivors to be taken back to the shrine."
"Advance scouts have been sent to Sanctuary already, and should you encounter one, it would be wise to accept them into your group as one of your own, you will not find hospitality among the humans."
"Some of you possess armies, some of you estates and followers. All will be enlisted to this cause, and all have been sent to report to the Chaos Sanctuary, our lord Diablo awaits them, and they will all be put to good use. Errtu, I know you in particular have a sizeable following, and thus will be allowed to keep 2 of your preferred soldiers with you, all others must report to the Sanctuary for further instruction."
"Now.... any additional questions will be adressed in the ritual chamber before you are summoned to Sanctuary, Basoriel, if you will..." Namphiel finished, pointing Basoriel, and the rest of the demons, to the doorway behind his throne.
Basoriel bowed deeply, and beckoned for the others to follow him through the doorway.
Basoriel pointed the demons to the circles, and bid them step onto them.
Damarus nodded and obeyed, stepping onto the first of the circles.
"Now... as for a leader, you will do quite nicely." Basoriel said, pointing to Damarus.
"I will not fail our cause." Damarus said solemnly, confident in his ability to lead this expidition.
"Are there any questions before this summoning commences? We cannot wait long, we must begin as soon as possible."
And that was what interested Zethrael. The Prime Evils! They have returned. But does that mean Lord Diablo has forgiven my past transgressions? If my Lord knew where I was, He could have punished me whenever He wanted.
"Some of you possess armies, some of you estates and followers. All will be enlisted to this cause, and all have been sent to report to the Chaos Sanctuary, our lord Diablo awaits them..."
It is true! Perhaps my Lord isn't angry with me. Did I do well in His stead? Well this will be my chance to prove I am not the young weakling demon I once was when I confronted Belial.
Zethrael followed along with the other demons to the next chamber, just as massive as the previous. Again there were circles and runes inscribed on the floor, but in place of a throne was a stone alter, stained by countless sacrifices. And upon that alter lie a human, bound at the wrists and ankles with jagged steel that dug deep into his flesh. But he wasn't dead just yet, for his purpose was soon to come.
"Now... as for a leader, you will do quite nicely." Basoriel said, pointing to Damarus.
"I will not fail our cause." Damarus said solemnly, confident in his ability to lead this expedition.
Zethrael wondered what this demon had done in his life? Had he led the minions of Diablo head on into the war machines of Azmodon? Had he stood toe to toe in battle with the Lord of Sin himself? No, he had not.
"Are there any questions before this summoning commences? We cannot wait long, we must begin as soon as possible."
"Questions?" Zethrael spoke, "There are many, but all are beyond your knowledge, spiderling." Zethrael mocked as he stepped onto one of the runed circles.
"Such insolence will not be tolerated within my master's realm, you think because I am a scribe that I do not possess power? Surely you have never met a mage demon, we often take such positions to better study our craft, and to gather vast pools of knowledge. Take such a tone once more, and your greatest... Terrors will be realized, and their wrath brought down upon you." Basoriel winked as he said this, smug with the knowledge he had collected on each of these demons, Basoriel knew well that they were all picked for a reason, and each would fill their role in due time.
He released his grip, allowing air to flow back into the lungs of the demon.
"Now... have we any real questions, or shall we tempt me once more?" Basoriel scowled as he said this, patience running thin as he ran the blade of the sacrificial dagger along the stone altar.
Azriel kept his head down. Basoriel seemed like he would be easily angered given the right situation and he didn't want to get on his bad side. He had nothing to inquire anyway, so he decided to wisp lazily around the room. His voice echoed around the room as he spoke in such a manner that it would return to the listener's ears like a chorus of demonic chant,
"The mortal mind is weak, terribly weak. Manipulation and deception hold unlimited possibilities when dealing with the cur, which is why I revel at the thought of playing with mortals yet again."
He made his way to Namphiel's throne.
"I would like to thank you for this opportunity. To be serving the dark lords and fueling my desire for torment makes this task even more desirable. I will serve you without error, I promise..."
I hate the way you cling to ignorance and pass it off as innocence
"Have a care Aurael and settle your tongue, it is not like you to speak out of turn." Screwtape stated. "Damarus is more than worthy of being chosen as leader, you do not know him as I do. He himself is a fortress on the battlefield and you would do well to fight on his side, he is a vanquisher of foes and leader of a large number of loyal followers. He has my full support if he lets me handle my own brethren as I wish. Greetings Damarus, and I believe congratulations are in order are they not?"