Fifty
The Temple of the Damned, the Dead Lands
Withered claws of wood reached painfully into the lightning-ridden sky. A greenish mist drifted eerily over the magma and stone below.
Now the only evidence of any life outside was the marching path of Azazel's troops carved deep into the raw rock.
Razor-sharp rocks jutted towards the sky calling out for blood while lava flowed through the winding veins fueling this craving.
This was the domain of the Archdemon, Azazel, the deadliest of Daeva's generals and easily the mightiest of the Demon Lords.
Long ago this nightmarish hell-zone was a lush forest teeming with life; it had been a sacred forest honoring the ancient gods. The so-called Temple of Destiny was a sacred shrine honoring the Forerunners, built by their Chrome Hammer slaves.
There stood the former Temple of Destiny, now known as the Temple of the Damned. The formerly proud, golden tribute to the divine was now a twisted black abomination depicting the macabre evil it contained. Carved monsters and skulls of the unfortunate covered the towering columns.
The roof was high enough to humble a man, but the vastness of this domain of evil would strike fear into his heart.
Archdemon Azazel had seized control of the Demon Lords centuries ago when their master, Daeva was taken away. The loyal Demon Lords bowed to him, whereas the others rebelled as they began to resent his rule.
The Archdemon sat atop his razor-sharp black throne peering into a dark scrying orb perched beside him.
He had been watching Umbra, and was pleased with the power now surfacing in him. Soon enough his plans will come to fruition, Daeva will be released and unify the Demon Lords once more.
She would resume her campaign of destruction that she had started during the Twilight Wars.
In times of uncertainty, Azazel's unique power of prophetic visions led the operations of the Demonic Legion.
For ages he had waited, watched, influenced and plotted: burning hamlets, enslaving races, wiping others out, and now he was close.
His master and creator would return and unify the rebellious Demon Lords. "Those pathetic traitors!"
Their divided strength was easily kept in check by the power of the cities of men. Only a unified front led by Daeva could overcome these kingdoms and bring Turbulus under control of the Demonic Legion once more.
The Dark Star herself had unimaginable power. Once she was free from the underworld there was nothing that could stop them from exacting revenge on those who caged her in Hell like an animal.
Men, he hated those detestable beasts. How small, puny and ignorant they are. They hid in castles like cowards and attacked his brethren from afar.
Even their noblest soldiers were always willing to join Azazel's ranks for a false promise of power and immortality.
"They think this land their own, they thinkthemselves better than the weaklings they shelter!"
Demons and beasts of the Demonic Legion he saw as pure; forces of nature in the world- the true rulers of Turbulus.
The once noble soldiers that joined the Archdemon became living shades, lacking any compassion, mercy, or even free will. They were the perfect soldiers and additional men just continued to line up to join their ranks.
Their withered hands and rusted weapons hung loosely from their hooded, ragged robes. They hovered silently in the night, no rest, or hunger; they desire only for death, they were the Shadowfiends.
The shadowfiends were Azazel's greatest creations, once men, now monsters.
"The desires of men are so easy to twist, theirwill so weak. Now they serve me."
Once their evil nature was cultivated, they rapidly lost any shred of humanity, naturally falling into the ranks alongside Azazel's legions.
These eerie beings glided silently across the hellish lands of the Archdemon, not even stirring up the clinging green mist. They cut through the mist effortlessly as they paced the landscape.
Without the need for rest, they had patrolled endlessly for centuries.
Azazel sat patiently atop his throne, dreaming of the end of the world, eyeing the small glistening obsidian chess board perched on a nearby stool.
Each piece he had moved was an army he had deployed and the pieces removed were settlements he had wiped out.
"Soon enough my master will return, and on thatday my loyalty will be rewarded infinitely"
He stirred restlessly, fidgeting with the dark board pieces.
His next move would be against the Ileuadi, burning away their existence would be delightful.
The players were well on their way to fulfilling their roles perfectly. He needed only to find The Void Coffer- the vessel of Daeva's power.
A devilish smile lit up his demonic face. His waiting would soon be over.