DoomLore

Demons, like all things, contain the divine spark. They are a part of the whole, a part of the natural order of things. With one difference. They were never an intentional part of the design.

When God created the universe, fear was in his heart. This truth is written and known to you already my brethren. Thus it was through fear that the Eternal Fires and my kind were born. Fear nurtures us, sustains us and gives birth to us. And in turn we exude fear. We are the embodiment of it, giving it form and meaning.

Now I shall tell you a secret my children. Do you wish to rid your world of demonkind? Do you wish to banish us forever? Then I shall tell you how easy it is. Simply do not fear and we shall wither and die.  Remember that as you stand before me. In the instant before I devour your quivering soul, simply do not fear.

I have never known silence.  My existence was forged in the Eternal Flame from Belief, Prayer and Fear of a million voices. I hear them always beseeching and pleading. I smell the burning flesh of offerings and taste the purity of souls offered in the vain hope that it will not be their souls I take.

The clamour of voices is relentless, day and night. And here I stand in the great audience hall of Dul-Raya, surrounded acolytes, aides and generals. All of them ready to act on my every word. And here right before me are a handful of prisoners taken in the recent skrmishes along the Razor Peaks. I see the fear in their eyes but they kneel and are silently defiant. There is a bond between them forged of blood and battle and comradeship.

And just for a fleeting second I feel envy, for despite the voices in my head and the wretched souls around me, I know I am truly alone. And with that I look into the eyes of the captives before me and watch with detatchment as their souls wither and die.

Fear! My favourite subject! How I love the smell of it, the taste of it in the minds of mortal men. How I marvel at their futile efforts to protect themselves from it, for they seem not to understand that fear perpetuates itself. Fear feeds off fear. They build barriers to guard against it – bigger armies, deadlier weapons. Media propaganda soothes their troubled minds; there is nothing to fear, we are in control…. But there is something to fear. Surveillance cameras track peoples’ movements. People are taken and locked up without evidence: merely a ‘suspicion’ or fear of subversive behaviour is sufficient justification. Curfews are introduced in the name of ‘protecting’ the people. And what does this achieve? Why more fear of course. These ‘protection methods’ merely serve to subjugate innocent people reinforcing the notion that there is something to fear. Paranoia builds. Within a short space of time a police state emerges. In truth it is the people who lose their liberty as they lose their trust. They gain fear. Thus fear builds on fear.

And I thrive on it…

We believe we may have found a crack in our prison. There are rumours that a Meet Point has been discovered that allows all to pass through it in both directions. But moreover that it links directly to the Plains of Eternal Flame. My home land. I know the time has been but the blink of an eye since last I was there, yet I yearn for it. I crave the caress of the flame and now this small hope...

My enemies have no doubt learned this news too. The Meet Point is rumoured to lie in land unclaimed by the noble demons of the Sundered Land and is several days hard ride to the north. We have slaughtered horses in the Rite of the Undead, draining their blood and replacing it with Hellfire and Purposeful Spirits. Reborn, these Nightmares require no rest, nor food nor water. Our riders will cover the distance at great speed in their quest to learn the truth, yet I remain irritated by this waiting. My anger is surpassing me. I have slain four of my high priests this very morning out of sheer frustration - I shall feast on their souls later. I sit here with my generals organising supplies and discussing how we secretly mobilise our forces. Their fear smells good and helps calm my mind. If the rumour proves to be true it would be a mighty prize.

There will be much blood spilled over this!

My minions! Let me impart to you a great gift. I give you the DoomRiTuaL. Treat this as your most Sacred Rite. Guard it's secret well and perform it only with your highest ranked and most trusted brethren. Perform the ritual in the dark and deep places of the world lest it's secret be learned by our enemies. For this gift is no mere trinket. With it you may commune directly with the mind of your Lord and Master. Through it you may hear my will and know what I demand of you, and you will take from our joining of minds my thoughts and wisdom. But beware O' mortal soul that my gift comes at a price. You should heed well the ritual preparation that offers protection, for only the stoutest of minds may commune with the raging fire of my mind and hold onto life and sanity.

I stood with my generals on the Fields of Eternal Flame with the hordes of demon nobility arrayed against me. I had been too bold too quickly. I knew that my forces were not as strong as I would have liked. I knew that some of my generals were inexperienced. But then I knew the Flames better than most. I was familiar with the flaring and wanning of the flame. The way it caressed the skin of mortal body and lingered as normal flame should not. Terrain then was on my side. When the attack came the end was swift. I had not anticipated treachery from my most trusted General. Amozoth shall endure an eternity of torment once I return from this accursed sundered land. Amazoth, a powerful lord of minor nobility. I had not anticipated that as the hordes of chaos clashed in fierce combat he would turn his armies about and crush my left flank. It was over almost before it had begun and now in this sundered land I take refuge. I plot. My anger has no outlet it is like a mighty inferno of pure rage. These lands surely cannot contain my wrath much longer…

Throughout the land I reign terror and misery on mortal kind. I thrive on it! Should you condemn me for that? Misery gives meaning to those values that mortals hold so dear – happiness, contentment, love. Without misery, those things hold no value. How would you define white without reference to black, cold without defining hot? Rejoice then. Misery marches triumphantly across this wretched earth making those cherished values all the more valuable. I thus bring purpose and meaning to the lives of mortal kind. Surely, my actions are worthy of praise. Worship even. Kneel then. Kneel before your god and give praise for the meaning I bring to your lives through your suffering…

My will was strong and quickly I consumed many souls. And the same spark of fear that had spawned me was still there but it had now become a raging fire. There were beings out there that worshipped me as their god. My strength and vitality were clear. Survival in hell is simple: kill or be killed. I gathered a band of wretched broken souls, lesser demons and imps desperate for a patron to protect them and built a stronghold carved secretly deep in the eternal fires. Soon I had an army. I was renowned and feared. A general of demon hordes. A ruler. A god. And thus I had enemies jealous of my power, fearful of their own positions and they came seeking to destroy me.

What of my origins? My father was a spark of fear in a small mind. My mother, the nurturing fire of the eternal abyss that gave form and substance to that spark. All demons are born out of fear; I was no different. The fires of hell are full of half formed demons -a flicker of fear in some mortal being dismissed in an instant and the unformed demon simply evaporates into the fires. The greater the fear, the longer it is sustained, the greater the demon. Thus it was with me and I gained conscious thought. In the abyss time has no meaning; it may have been a heartbeat or an eternity that the hot fires of hell caressed my being. And so after an eternity of agony I found the will to step out of the fire and thus a demon was born to wreak havoc through the world.