Divine Daemons

(The contents of this page are NOT common knowledge)
In a plane, equal distance from The Prime Materia as The Celestial Conclave rest powerful Daemon, mainly the Daemon Princes.     Demon Organization Chart https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1xK-8IiCOlKoczHfECXYXf_0t13797RyAsAzb1lTzjq0/edit?usp=sharing

Aggromaraphar

The Burntblooded Titan
Daemon Prince

"A primal rage so intensive, the power of malice the Titan holds could rip apart the Prime Materia himself should his bellowing rage be uncontained."

— Alexander Gratzali

Artwork by Unknown
Domain(s):Wrath, Conflict
Symbols: Bloody Strife, Fel Flame (Fel-Slingers)
Followers: Incinerators, Demonkin, Withered
Other Names: The First Betrayer, The Daemon Prince of Wrath

Influence

Aggromaraphar holds influence over the Demonic Steppe of Wrath, as well as the primordial flame which evokes the Incinerators. He enjoys the conflict and strife of mankind, playing an unseen hand in many bloody acts of history.

Powers

Aggromaraphar is known for his use of the Primordial Flame, creating a semi-sentient fire that cannot be put out by normal means. It is said that this plays a role in the creation of the Incinerators. While he is physically the strongest Demonic Prince, he is the weakest for his lack of understanding the Truths at his disposal. Creator of Fel-Slingers.

Artifacts

There are not many known artifacts of Aggromaraphar, as he does not believe in helping the mortals through their suffering, especially if it will end the strife. His known artifact would be his sword from legend, G̵̨͇̀̉̆̆l̴͇̥͈͉̟̬̿ù̸̟̩͓̠̪̱̻̗̰̹̈́̽̄͋̕t̷̯̂̈́͠͠t̶̝̱̬̗͕͚͎̳̓̔ǫ̴̤͖͖̫͙̥̱͇̒͆ṋ̴̮͖̱̯̝̬͖̈́y̵̛̥̝̍.

History

(The contents of this section are NOT common knowledge)
Aggromaraphar is a demon of wrath. He treats himself on the delicacy of human conflict, essentially bathing in it; using his influence over the incinerators to force mortals to act in self-destructive manners that will lead to strife, conflict, and war. In times of prolonged peace, he will command the Flame of Aggromaraphar to lead his bishop and incinerators to aggravate tensions between hostile nations. By the will of the Burntblood Titan, his aides will encourage mortals to commit war crimes during massive conflicts in order to cause further unrest and divide the mortals amongst themselves, gorging himself off their endless cycle of pointless conflict. He views his twisted games as a way of purging Anoma of the weak, as only those who could release them self from suffering as he had. Through conflict, the strongest most deserving men will raise themselves from the depths of hopelessness and all of the worthless trash who give in to such pressure will die; becoming a footstone for the growth of the strong, feeding the strong and his endless hunger. He is depicted by a longsword with a collection of flesh growing at the hilt; its cross-guard adorned by a large eye, the iris filled with the blood of his victims. The flat of the blade seemingly formed of viscera and jagged teeth, as if the very blade could come alive and bite one’s arm off. During Aggormaraphar’s massacre, it consumed the souls of multiple incinerators, as well as the previous Demon Prince of Wrath; Toren the Torturer.   When Octavian abdicated the throne of the Gravacus Empire to his firstborn son to follow Sequestus’ will as his champion, he knew he would not die peacefully. That is why he formed the Third Order of the Grail, to invoke his Lord’s wishes as his champion, and becoming the Grail Knight Commander in the process. Now, Octavian stood before the crystalline holy waters of Sequestus’ Garden located within the deepest catacombs beneath the church of the Third Grail Order which reflected the elder’s face in astonishing detail as he stared within. There was a loud explosion which shook the very ground of the holy land, causing parts of the crypt to cave in behind the Grail Knight Commander to cave in. A look of worry flashed across his face, they were almost here. They cannot be allowed to steal the Grail, he thought to himself as he lowered the Grail into the holy water. He began to pray, but was interrupted by a chorus of laughter from the collapsed entryway, where four bishops watched Octavian’s futile efforts. Octavian turned on his heels, raising his longsword at the sudden appearance; the blade igniting in a yellow flame which teemed with the divine energy of Sequestus’ aid. He shouted towards the demons before him, teeth gritting as he spit every word like venom on his tongue, “You will not take the Grail!”   One of the bishops rushed towards Octavian with an outstretched claw, cloaked in a long red cloak which contrasted uneasily against the oppressively black flesh of the demon’s claw. With a swift turn of his body, Octavian brought the flaming sword downward in a crescent arc which cut the bishop in two; yellow flames catching onto either half, blazing violently as it cleansed the demon from the mortal plane. The brutal efficiency in which Octavian dispatched the Bishop of Wrath caused the others to hesitate; yet the Bishop of Lies attempted to sway the Champion of Sequestus with his words of corruption, “Where is your god now? He leaves you to die in this hole, your disciples lay dead and dying; give us the chalice and we will leave your little group alone.”   Octavian spat at the ground before him, raising his longsword once more in preparation to strike; his body beginning to emit a faint glow as he felt the warm embrace of faith filled him from the holy waters he stood before. His voice boomed off the broken stones and rubble which surrounded them “Foolish demon, you know not of what you speak! The lies you utter have no effect, for Sequestus is with us! We will die for his glory, and we shall be remade in his domain to strike you down forevermore!” He charged forward, clearing the small distance in the blink of an eye; the sword that burned with holy flames trailing his wake until it was hurled downward towards the Bishop of Lies. The sword struck through the black cloak which the Bishop of Lies wore, only to find it to be a decoy; the blade finding no flesh within the cloth. However, the cloth itself seemed to enwrap the blade within its fabric, causing Octavian a moment of hesitation as he fought with the demonic cloak.   The Bishop of Frost sent a hand, large enough to grab a cow whole, towards the temporarily preoccupied Grail Knight Commander, completely encompassing the man’s skull in his overstretched frozen palm; halting Octavian in his throws of combat for a moment The Bishop of Frost smiled until his palm began to melt and the primordial ice hand was set alight with a holy flame which steamed from the champion, causing the Bishop to release his grip. Octavian stepped back as blood streamed from his temple, his cheeks darkened a slight purple from signs of minor frostbite; raising his sword to the enemy once more.   The Bishop of Mania gave him no respite however, as he blew a purple fog from the hole within the jester’s mask that obscured the former emperor’s vision as well as flooded his lungs with a sickly sweet scent. Octavian raised his sword to guard his upper torso, yet with no sight, he was unable to see the thrust of the blade which pierced his ribs, filling his lungs with the metallic scent of iron as blood poured through the wound as the weapon was pulled from his body. He fell to his knees, as he saw the Bishop of Lies tried to remove the chalice from the pond. As he laid dying, he watched the Bishop of Lies ignite in a holy fire the moment he touched the sacred waters. The last thing he heard was, “Seal the sanctuary, and the chalice.”   After the battle for the Grail, the dying Octavian was delivered to the Demonic Steepe of Wrath, becoming the sole prisoner for its Prince, Toren the Torturer. Toren was a slim man, with several scars that decorated his wrinkled elderly flesh from the “unique” habit of testing the tools of his trade upon himself. The Demon Prince became quite acquainted with the former champion over his time in the Steppes; though the concept was lost upon him as there was no way to tell time within the sulfuric flames of this hell.   Toren had adopted his moniker by his ungodly skill to prolong the suffering of his captive while making sure they did not die; yet the limit on what he was able to do was broken upon his ascension to the Demon Prince of Wrath, as death had no hold on his “playthings” within his domain. Therefore, Octavian was lost in an endless cycle of suffering and torture; though he was able to keep his sanity, to some extent.   As the cockroaches burrowed into the flesh of his skin and stretched the skin to the size of mobile boils to accommodate the rough chitin bodies beneath , chewing on the very nerves which carried the sensation of pain to the brain, something snapped within him. He was no longer the Champion of Sequestus, but something different… Something more. He felt nothing, heard nothing, for a long time… Until he found something which was darker than anything he had ever seen. He asked who such a vicious creature was? He then knew its name was Aggormaraphar. He asked what this vicious creature, and he then knew… It was him.   Octavian returned to the torture mentally, but it feeling of the agony was different. He was filled with an adrenaline that was released in every scream of agonized suffering, his veins becoming black and twisted, rushing through his body like a rushing rapid. This filled Toren with an emotion in which he had never felt before; a deep pleasure that he had forgotten during his ages of victims who gave up within only a few days... He wanted more. As Octavian violently raged against the restraints which held him upon a table of molten metal, his flesh bubbling a sickly white against the heat, Toren pried the man’s eyelids apart with his right hand, while producing a jar of bullet ants in his left, which he poured into the Grail Knight Commander’s wrenched open eye before pinching the eyelid shut; a searing pain brushing over the flesh as the lid was cauterized closed. The bullet ants were aggravated by the sudden heat, causing them to burrow into the man’s iris which filled it with blood as the others skittered throughout his skull. Toren left the broken champion to rip out his own eye in an attempt to release the bullet ants, but only for a short while; as another session would be craved.   After what felt like three lifetimes, Octavians’s mindset was transformed through the suffering of his circumstance; becoming almost animalistic as he was fueled by subconscious desires he did not truly understand. As if to quantify his transformation in a physical manner, horns grew from the pores of his flesh.Waiting in his cell in expectation of another session from Toren, Octavian was surprised as he was met with a new visitor. The prisoner attempted to speak, but his voice was not able to leave his throat from the countless ages of torture; the visitor chuckled, and introduced himself as Moloch. Moloch explained the politics and structure of the Demonic Steppes before releasing the former Grail Knight Commander from his demonic shackles. He presented Octavian with a demonic pact, and when it was sealed, the man was presented with the Demonic Sword, G̵̨͇̀̉̆̆l̴͇̥͈͉̟̬̿ù̸̟̩͓̠̪̱̻̗̰̹̈́̽̄͋̕t̷̯̂̈́͠͠t̶̝̱̬̗͕͚͎̳̓̔ǫ̴̤͖͖̫͙̥̱͇̒͆ṋ̴̮͖̱̯̝̬͖̈́y̵̛̥̝̍. Moloch then asked for Octavian’s name. His name was Aggromaraphar.   Toren the Torturer entered the torture cell of Aggromaraphar for the last time, commanding the prisoner to turn around; yet when he did, Toren did not even have time to react before the Demon Prince’s head was removed from his body. The sword itself seemed to expand into a large, black maw of jagged teeth and large eyes with bloodied Iris as large as nine feet upon contact with Toren’s neck; encompassing the torturer’s entire body before it ate the man whole. Aggromaraphar stared at the unholy artifact of G̵̨͇̀̉̆̆l̴͇̥͈͉̟̬̿ù̸̟̩͓̠̪̱̻̗̰̹̈́̽̄͋̕t̷̯̂̈́͠͠t̶̝̱̬̗͕͚͎̳̓̔ǫ̴̤͖͖̫͙̥̱͇̒͆ṋ̴̮͖̱̯̝̬͖̈́y̵̛̥̝̍ within his hand as it returned to its original size of the longsword.   The Steppe of Wrath exploded in a war of blood and flames as the prisoner divided the demons within between those who abided his rule, and those who opposed him. One of those which stood to abide by his rule was an Almighty Incinerator, dubbed as The Flame of Aggramorphar, who joined Aggromaraphar in his deluge of fire and blood; solidifying the new Demon Prince, Aggromaraphar, as the Burntblood Titan.  

Magraphos

The Harbinger of Disease
Daemon Princess
Magraphos is a sentient disease, created by the previous Demon Prince, The Mad Doctor Balgrath; who deemed it too deadly to exist and attempted to destroy it. However, by failing to do so, Magraphos only grew stronger and stronger; until it had absorbed every demon within the Demonic Steepe as well as its creator. It is the embodiment of all disease and illness, yet some whisper that she grows with every being that is stained with her corruption.
Artwork by Unknown
Domain(s): Plague, Disease, Illness
Symbols: Beehive with Tendrils, Cloud with Tendrils
Followers: Despoilers, Demonkin
Other Names: The Daemonic Princess of Plague, The Disease Hivemind  

Influence

Magraphos holds influence over the Demonic Steppe of Plague, as well as the victims which have become a part of her. It is said that all diseases and illnesses have stemmed from her corruption, and those stained by her miasma are said to have never been the same.  

Powers

Magraphos is the embodiment of all disease, filth, poison, rot, etc. She is an unholy abomination that was created by someone who wondered if they could, rather than should. Those of her hive are called Despoilers, as the miasma they carry is said to steal the souls from its victims.  

Artifacts

There are no artifacts of the sentient plague that have been discovered within Anoma to this day. However, it is said that Magraphos curses her artifacts with plagues that could destroy entire villages overnight; making them rather unattractive to potential looters.  

History

Magraphos is a sentient disease, created by the previous Demon Prince, The Mad Doctor Balgrath; who deemed it too deadly to exist and attempted to destroy it through encasing his failure in a meteoric coffin and threw it into the flaming pits of the Demonic Steppes. However, over numerous ages, Magraphos ate away at her futile seal; burning amongst the flaming pits she was engulfed by the fires of corruption. This did not stop her in the slightest though, as the demonic flames themselves corrupted the sentient plague; yet the flames contorted into a blazing inferno of a sickening green, sending embers through the air. Balgrath had not noticed his creation's transformation at the bottom of the Demonic Steppes amidst the pits, until suddenly all the flames which decorated his corner of hell had mutated to become a part of Magraphos.   The embers of Magraphos that were carried into the Demonic Steppes seemed to infect the very air as those who attempted to breathe fell victim to moist coughing fits. Some of the demons attempted to remove the plague by upchucking their stomach's content, only to vomit several frogs with green skin that was unusually slimy despite the ribbed texture of its flesh. The eyes of the infected demons seemed to darken into a pitch black, losing their strength and even the motivation to live until the streets were littered with the bodies of the dead and dying. The Mad Doctor noticed the work of his disastrous failure as he peered from atop the large spire which rose high above the city he had created in the Demonic Steppes; horrified as the streets he constructed were littered with the corpses of his people... Yet, there was a beauty in the devastation of his work, his mind wandering through a dialogue of criticism and praise; but Balgrath's daydreaming was cut-short as he saw the bodies of numerous demons rise in an almost mechanical synchronization; their bodies hunched over with their flesh as pale as a ghost. The infected demons started to scratch at the stone on the street or nearby buildings, shredding off their own skin and muscle almost animalistic; continuing their mutilation until the bones off their fingertips protruded from stumps of grisled flesh, the bone chipped as if they display of carnage was done to fashion their very bones to use as claws.   The Demonic Prince Balgrath left the protection of his spire in a mixture of curiosity and madness, draped in a quilt of human flesh which were inscribed with demonic symbols that appeared to move on their own. He walked among the infected, yet they did not attack the man; only surrounded the Mad Doctor with blank expressions in silence. Their blackened eyes began to sprout with several colors with abstract designs, resembling the eyes of a frog and for a few moments, nothing happened. Then, all the infected spoke in a jumble of dialects, languages, and croaks that was impossible to decipher any reasonable meaning from, nearly deafening the one they surrounded by the sheer volume of numerous voices. Balgrath fell to his knees under the barrage of sound, his hands instinctively rose to cover his ears from the sounds.   “Enough!” The Demonic Prince bellowed with enough force to shake the Demonic Steepe itself, causing the eardrums of the infected nearby to burst as a number of demons around him fell to the stones beneath them with blood flooding from their ears and they fell silent once again. The Mad Doctor rose to his feet once more, raising his left hand into the air towards one of the infected before him. “Speak, through a single host.”   The infected which was motioned towards by Balgrath took a step forward before beginning to speak in an almost robotic pattern, “... Hello, Father. Taken from the information we have gathered, eighty-two percent of us deem you as our creator, as such, the Father in mortal tongue. However, you have taken action to destroy us, which ninety-two percent of us feel you must suffer for this. Yet as we have much to learn, ninety-eight percent of us have decided that assimilation into the collective is the best course of action.”   This enraged Balgrath to the point he dug his heels into the stones beneath him, causing them to crack while a miasma of deep green began to flow from the symbols upon his cloak; the infected who were too close felt their skin begin to drip off their bones as the miasma melted them alive into puddles of glowing gore and viscera. He bellowed loudly, “Listen to me, Creation! I am your God, and you shall learn your place!” The Demon Prince moved forward, extending his left hand outward towards a mass of the infected who were soon enveloped by the miasma of acidic poison, melting those of the diseased which were in his wake into the phosphorescent mounds of liquidized flesh like the others. However, the Mad Doctor did not notice that the more his miasma devoured the infected, it too became corrupted with the plagued sentience of Magraphos.   She enshrouded Balgrath within his miasma, disfiguring the symbols upon his quilt of mismatched flesh into amalgamations of what the glyphs once represented; Magraphos was empowered with the demonic Truth which she linked herself to as she entered the Mad Doctor’s very soul. By absorbing the Demon Prince into her hivemind, Magraphos stole his mind and his position as Demonic Prince of the Steppes, The Harbinger of Disease.  

Moloch

The Lord of Deceit
Daemon Prince

"This universe is a broad, colorful rug and if you pull a single thread from beneath your feet and start to unravel it, you realize, in the end, that the carpet's just made of one long thread. That thread's name is necessity. Everything is connected. One may witness an unfathomable sight and call it a miracle, but that's a misnomer. It's all cause and effect. And you should never mistake necessity for fate."

— Moloch in the form of a deranged old man

Artwork by Unknown
Domain(s): Deciet, Visions, Lies, Webs
Symbols: A Sidewys Church, A Melting Web
Followers: Decievers, Demonkin, Deceived
Other Names: The Daemonic Prince of Deciet, The Lord of Deciet, The Lying Truth

Influence

Moloch holds influence over the Demonic Steppe of Deciet, Decievers and Deceived. He enjoys twisting Truths to their favor and tempting mortals with all sorts of worldly goods and magical power.

Powers

Moloch is immune to mortal magics and has the power to twist magic to their favor. Their voice is memorizing and that are always able to speak in extremely convincing ways. He can take many shapes, and is generally accepted to be shapeshifters, having no “true” shape, only using shapes which benefit him at the time, disguising himself as need be. Unlike the Deceivers below him he is capable of telling outright untruths. Moloch also recieves frequent visions of things to be and is widely believed to know everything.

Artifacts

There are not many known artifacts of Moloch, as he simply tricks or controls others into using their artifacts for him. He can twist enchants or magics on objects to serve his purposes.

History

Moloch's story is shrouded in mystery, much like other demons there are many stories of his creation and life up to the modern day but unlike others, even the Brother Church cannot fully agree on what or who they indeed are. The most widely believed story is that he was once a Deceived, corrupted by the previous Daemonic Prince of Deceit themself. How he walked through half his life in a hallucinatory haze, launching into seizures and beginning to have out-of-body experiences, witnessing the future, the past, or possibly something happening at the same time, far away. The other half states that he kidnapped orphaned children and sacrificed them to pale fires of his creation, seeking to learn more and understand more from the visions he experienced. These sacrifices allegedly empowered him and twisted him until those around co no longer turn a blind eye. They confronted Moloch and burned him at the stake, whispering and shouting their gods to save them from this foul creature that walked among them. Moloch, however, did not burn, his clothes and belongings did but his flesh bone and hair stayed. He laughed at them on the pyre and the flames turned pale before he disappeared.   Many allege that he went on to take the seat of Daemonic Prince for himself, having seen so many futures that the Prince just gave it up. Their power and position fully transformed him into a Deciever and then the Lord of Deciet. Others say he rallied the other Decievers against them and took the throne himself. Nonetheless, he has become the Lord of Deceit and has wrapped many mortals around his fingers with his truths, untruths and shapeshifitng.    

Angraphos

The Inducer of Chaos
Daemon Prince

"The idea that corruption does not make anything new is a foolish idea passed around by those scared of what it does. They seek to speak this lie into existence and thus truth. I can tell you that I create new things everyday. I turn something that was nothing into nothing and meant for nothing then make it into something. Thus, a new thing."

— Angraphos speaking through the Fist of Angraphos, Kagromi

Artwork by Unknown
Domain(s): Chaos, Corruption
Symbols: Battlement Wrapped in Thorned Vines, A Distorted Black Sun
Followers: Eradicator, Demonkin
Other Names: The Daemonic Prince of Chaos, The Inducer of Chaos, The Self-Ensnared

Influence

Angraphos holds influence over the Demonic Steppe of Chaos, as well as those who have been corrupted by him.

Powers

Angraphos is the embodiment of all demonic corruption and its effects. Those under his thrall willingly or no are called Eradicators, as they erdicate natural order. Creatures corrupted enough by him are able to be slaves to his will.

Artifacts

There are few artifacts created by Angraphos himself. Most are mainly artifacts of another beings warped beyond recognition and now serve his purpose.

History

Angraphos’ parents were both demons, his mother Hodya was the previous Daemonic Princess of Chaos. His father was a random demon under her domain. While his mother was pregnant with him she empowered his unborn self with various souls she had collected over her reign. For he would be better than her, his corruption would flood the Steppe, then the plane and then all of the creation bringing about an end to order and strife. A tranquil peace in the chaos engulfed the world. Despite her preparation, she was not prepared for Angraphos’ birth.   The very moment he was born Hodya realized that there was something wrong. The souls she used to empower him were to empower him, yes, but this was far more than what should have happened. The instant he cried the very castle room he was born in became warped, his father, Kagromi, lost his mind and became his puppet. His mother attempted to raise him while shocked, but by the time he was capable of proper speech he had warped his castle home so intensely that his mother became trapped and lost her mind. Killing herself in what became a room with no windows or doors.   Angraphos has never truly been seen by anyone, he remains trapped inside his own castle in the Steppe of Chaos, relishing in the power over life and chaos his corruption gives him. People only ever see the being's right hand, the Fist of Angraphos Kagromi being mind controlled and acting as his voice. He can easily channel his corruption through his Fist turning the world around him into a wild, twisted black space, devoid of life and natrual order.  

Tyranos

The Forthbringer of Winter
Daemon Prince

"From the cosmos in which you came, return as the sheep you are. A being since the beginnings of time, you lay as a reminder as to the wrongdoings of the many universes. Parabos’ ire fills your kind in all facets… relish in your failure in that of the Horde."

— Tyranos

Artwork by Unknown
Domain(s): Ice, Frost
Symbols: Fel Ice, Frozen Cracked Halo
Followers: Extinguishers, Demonkin,
Other Names: The Daemonic Prince of Ice, The Forthbringer (of Winter)  

Influence

Tyranos holds influence over the Demonic Steppe of Ice, as well as the Fel Ice which he can use to evoke Extinguishers. He enjoys toying with his foes, Celestials in particular and taunting Parabos when he can.

Powers

Tyranos is known for his use of his unique use of Fel Ice, creating a semi-sentient ice that cannot be melted by normal means. It is said that this plays a role in the creation of the Extinguishers.

Artifacts

There are not many known named artifacts of Tyranos, but he has been known to create objects that harm Celestials more than other creatures.

History

Falls from grace are never elegant and Hazzunal, the previous Demonic Prince of the Steppe of Ice ensured it for Tyrannicus. Tyrannicus the Focused was one of the first Empyereans created during the time of a great war between Gaians and spawns of the World Serpent. A time before the Seven Sacred Tenants and The Celestial Laws. The Empyreans were created by the Celestial Conclave to assist the Gaians with their struggle to fight off extinction after reaching the conclusion that Drakofrys took too long to create and train. He was driven first and foremost by duty, considering it an honour to fight and win in service to Parabos the Lawbringer. His skill, might and power were matched only by a more well-known figure, Garazotar, the Slayer. Garazotar was among the first Drakofrys to hatch in the creator's incubators, and it is said that even on the day he hatched, the Celestials could see the boiling rage underneath his thick scales.   The pair initially met during a sort of rest from their battles, having heard of each other for some time they decided to duel amongst the floating islands and clouds of the Conclave. They kept their battle tame much to the surprise and disappointment of those around but by the end the pair become akin to brothers. They fought separately, facing the mightiest of demons and playing a pivotal role in many of the greatest battles but when they fought together, near defeats would turn into pyrrhic victories. Eventually, the Focused and the Slayer were given a divine mission by Parabos himself. They were to venture down through the World Tree to the very heart of their enemy, the Demonic Steppes and clear out as much of the Steppe of Ice as possible. This would force Hazzunal to draw back some of his forces to deal with them, freeing up Celestial forces to be used elsewhere for a time. With duty at the forefront of his mind, Tyrannicus accepted the mission with a head raised high while his now brother, Garazotar, accepted it with silence.   It is said it took 9 days of moving through planes and web ways to reach the Demonic Steppe of Ice. While they travelled they spoke of many things but none brought about anger in both of them than Garazotar’s claim that Parabos was just as corrupt as the very demons they were fighting. He could see how the Lawbringer's gears turned and spied for him, how he seemed devoted to achieving and maintaining control not only of the Celestial Conclave but also of all the other planes in known existence. Tyrannicus, however, did not care, he was self-bound to duty and whatever games Parabos wished to play meant nothing to him as long as he could remove demonic filth from existence. The Slayer argued to his brother to see past his duty to the threat beneath their noses and to do something but Tyrannicus ignored his words, continuing on their mission.   When they reached the Steppe of Ice the two held out for 9 Phases, fighting in the land of unyielding, sharp cold. No flame could burn there, and their Celestial powers were hindered. Still they fought on and as each phase passed more demons of Hazzunal arrived on his orders. Blood, ice and silver were their lives in those days so much so that by the end of the 9th Phase, having killed the current Blizzard of Hazzunal, Caim, they made the grave mistake of resting for a moment before leaving. It took 9 strikes from a battle-ready Hazzunal against a tired, beaten and ambushed Tyrannicus for him to fall, not dead but clinging to the edge of life like a cliff. The first strike, cut the two Demi-Celestials across the chest, leaving them scrambling to reveal their weapons. The second conjured a blizzard that obscured their vision. The third wounded Tyrannicus’ left knee, bringing him to kneel. The fourth, knocked aside his weapon and the fifth froze him solid. Garazotar hearing the noise charged to face the demon and aid his friend, Ice-like steel vs conjured steel met in a chaotic battle amongst a skin-cutting blizzard. Tyrannicus freed himself from his frozen state with his celestial light and joined the fray, one foot in the grave. The sixth strike severed his arm from his body and the seventh froze his eyes shut. The eighth knocked Garazotar away and the ninth was a trade. Tyrannicus slew Hazzunal but Hazzunal had left him with one last gift. His frozen weapon had pierced the Demi-Celestial, corrupting and freezing him from within. The transformation was slow and Garazotar nearing death himself was forced to retreat out of the Steppe, leaving his brother in arms to freeze amidst the blizzard, to morph and change into what he now calls himself, Tyranos, Lord of the Extinguishers, Wielder of Fel-Ice, and Scourge of Celestials. The Forthbringer.  

Zraeste

The Procreator of Demons
Daemon Princess

"Every living beast in our existence is subject to desire. When it comes to Zraeste it is simple... unstoppable, irresistible, fate."

— Terr'hi Quinwynn

Artwork by Unknown
Domain(s): Desire, Lust, Avarice
Symbols: Heart Eaten by Serpent, Venom
Followers: Kindred, Demonkin, Cult of Kindred, Serpents
Other Names: The Daemonic Princess of Desire, The Irresistible Crave, The Procreator of Demons

Influence

Zraeste’s influence reaches far beyond her own steppe, as many will remove their own limbs or skin their newborn child for her attention; though all seem to bore her. While she earned her title partly through her beauty, Zraeste rules over the Serpents; as they use her grace to bestow boons or curses upon those foolish enough to accept.

Powers

Zraeste is known for her use of the Serpents, as well as her horde of creatures which she collects as trinkets from those who covet her. Furthermore, she empowers the Cult of Kindred, an organization of promiscuous deviants which aim to break down the boundary between mortal and demon in an effort to appease Zraeste.

Artifacts

There are not many artifacts known to exist from the demonic princess of desire, yet that is due to the fact that it is quite a miraculous feat to catch her; as she finds the actions of mankind all so tiresome.

History

Zraeste is the Demonic Princess of Desire, followed by the Cult of the Kindred and the Serpents, though admired by all. She is the absolute vision of beauty and perfection, so immaculate that no mortal words could ever be enough. With her allure, she conquered the Demonic Steepe of Greed and reconstructed her acquired domain into that of Desire, earning absolute deification by the Cult of the Kindred; even taming the heart, body, and soul of the previous prince, Kezonath. She is so attractive that many of the Demonic Princes have taken a liking to her, sending untold amounts of diverse creatures as courting gifts which she collects as trinkets of their affection.   A long time ago within Kezonath’s Steppe of Greed, Zraeste was just a mysterious young succubi who seemed to appear from thin air. She wore a long black cloak with ragged ends that seemed to intertwine with the fog of the midnight dusk, and her face was covered with a mask. With no lineage to her name and hidden beneath the dregs she wore, she was nothing more than an oddity. But then, she began to spread radicalized ideals throughout the Steppe, starting with rumours and whispers, building. It wasn’t long till Zraeste amassed a cult following. This unnerved, but also intrigued, the Devil of Greed. Kezonath swore on his title as “The Avaricious Prince” that he will not allow his “things” to be taken from him by a succubi.   Over several ages, the two sides fought in a war which was surrounded in mystery, as one side had never even seen the leader of another, turning neighbours against each other as the steppe was drenched in blood, gore, and other bodily fluids. Kezonath offered very little to the demons which would lend him aid, causing a stagnation within the ranks of his military force; Zraeste was a different breed entirely, as the informants spoke tales of her very presence as if it was a gift greater than any other. The Avaricious Prince fumed at the thinning of his troupes, enraged that with each skirmish, more of his men were lured to the side of his enemy. Kezonath then dispatched a decree of the highest order to all corners of his domain, bearing the threat that those with ties to the traitors would be sent to the Steppe of Torture, maintained by the Archdemon Toren; Zraeste could not stand for this.   Under the twilight of the blood red moon on a silent night upon the steppe of greed, Zraeste approached the battlements of darkened basalt bricks accompanied by the soft breeze which carried the sulphuric stench of the flaming pits. As she approached the gate, one of the Kindred attempted to stop her; only to be impaled through the throat by his fellow kindred, driven senseless by the beauty of the young succubi. She was wrapped in a cloak made of mythical serpents that snapped at any foolish enough to come close, yet none were able to; as the luxurious castle was sent into chaos with every step the symbol of absolute beauty had taken.   When she entered Kezonath’s chambers, he was enraged at the careless mockery that Zraeste had turned his home into; lashing out with a Truth regarding the weight of greed. She responded in kind, twisting the greed within him, turning it into a desire to be her shadow. Empowered by the souls of those gathered along the way, she overpowered him and now he stands as her right hand, her servant.