Xualla stood as still as death, standing tall at the peak of the hill. From the nearby cave entrance he could hear the howls of combat echoing within. Maligno the puppet should have the book just about now he though. Xualla reflected on the puppets purpose, its beginning and what would soon become its end. For so very long it had sought a goal, only to meet with the ultimate failure it was always meant to fulfill. The sounds of battle begin to dim, and finally Xualla knew that it was done; his unwilling pawn removed from the board, sacrificed for the greater cause, playing its part flawlessly.
He could feel the Uhrotan Arcanus as it hit the cold stone floor, and immediately he grasped onto it with his far-reaching hands. Through the tunnel it floated and then out into the open field. Finally, as it touched his fingertips, he pushed it up into a dark shadow where it was transported safely to his lair in the shadow spire. His work for now was done, his daily task complete, Xualla prepared to blink himself to the nearby magic dead zone, which he used to teleport here. It was in this instance however that the demon would feel something he was not very familiar with; resistance. It was a pulling, a weight, an anchor of sorts as if someone had grasped onto his leg and refused to let go. The demon was beyond shocked and it was only at this time that he first noticed the fleshlings that began to fill the field; A swarm of otherwise insignificant creatures, mulled about and Xualla experienced both confusion and a rare feeling of alarm tugging at the corner of his mind. Taking no chances, the often self proclaimed prince of hell called out beyond the planes “ This earth is Scorched!” he yelled, as the earth around him cracked and an impenetrable barrier of Hellfire shot up from its depths.
The creatures sufficiently at bay, his maelstrom of chaos surged through the field, searching for answers to this riddle, one of these creatures must know the source of his predicament. As it did its work, some of the creatures spat common words at the demon. Some shouted declarations of defiance, while others tried to ask questions of him. One of them spoke a string of words that sparked the demons interest. “How did you get Farslayer?” Xualla knew that the creature was referring to his new spear.
Through a painfully faint scent, he realized that the creatures asking this question shared the same blood from the spears previous owner. Xualla felt compelled to acquiesce. “I sent Balfurous to retrieve it for me…” Xualla then reached within a shadow to produce items from his lair. “and Balfurous is not KIND!” yelled the demon as he hurled at them the skull of their Dragoon King, still wearing its crown. The dragon blooded creatures scrambled and fumed and Xualla heaved Farslayer itself through his own hellflame, spearing the nearest one in the heart. After the creature appeared to somehow survive the deadly strike, Xualla recalled the spear to his grasp and refocused his efforts on his own search for answers.
The creatures were not leaving and they were only getting louder. Those who he had probed thus far knew nothing of value to him and so Xuallla began to loose his patience, “Which one of you are holding me!?” The Demon screamed at them; but none would confess. For a few more minutes the creatures tried to engage him in different ways, but the Demon was now feeling a desperation it was not accustomed to. The trapped feeling was becoming too much, and the demon was reaching its breaking point. Though he was only swatting at them, they seemed far more resilient then any group of these creatures he had encountered on the prime material plane in the past. Finally his booming voice filled the air in a sound so loud that his threat could be heard for miles. “Release me this instant or I will kill each and every living thing this world holds dear!” A pause for an answer followed, but only for a heartbeat and Xualla realized his bluff was being called, only he wasn’t bluffing. Xualla screamed for death, and it echoed from each and every dead zone on the prime material plane, killing the nearest living creature each and every time. Over and over again this call of death pulsed, and within moments, thousands of living things all over the world fell to the ground and lived no longer.
So much death… does not go unnoticed.
Whatever it was that was holding the demon prince, must’ve realized that it had no choice but to comply with the demons demand to let it go. The grasp was released, and Xualla was now unchained. This did not occur however, without a specific notice of a familiar touch. The demon stood strait, lowered his head, shut his eyes and reflected on the sensation of being released; his captors signature energy was caught and recognized. The demon was unsettled by what it had learned, and against its intentions it let slip a nervous laugh, “Travance… it was you…” under his breath he mumbled aloud one last and simple thought to himself, “Interesting…”.
The demon leapt from his perch and sprinted towards the wood line, were in the deepest, darkest shadows he disappeared.