Nothing ever grows there.
Twisted, burning, tortured ground on which only the shadowy, thorny vines of hatred seethed. None could ever really tell if it was hot or cold, as the burning volcanoes and mountainous glaciers would often stand side-by-side or even on top of one another. There was no sky, only a black maw filled with flashes of light, some of which were colored in hues never be seen in the mortal realm, glorious and awesome and terrible all at the once to behold. Maybe it would be a beautiful place, some time long, long ago, but not now. Here and now, it was chaos eternal. Logic had no place, only mindless brutality and carnage.
And it was in here, the Twisting Nether, that the demons of the Burning Legion held the great bulk of their infinite numbers. Here was their domain, their element, their realm. No mortal in his right mind would come here to defy them and those that did never spoke of it, for it meant either death of claims to madness at the hands of their peers, or worse, the very demons they interacted with. These were the mortal warlocks. Some seemed to master their own destinies; the vast majority served their dark lords, but one thing they all held in common: each and every one was tied by a set of unbreakable rules here, and should any of them break them, they would be annihilated.
In the featureless maelstrom walked one of these individuals. An orc, older in appearance than what he truly was, tread through the red and black wastelands of fire and ice. His emerald eyes, which were sunk deep into his skull and rimmed black with weariness, kept watch all around, aware of the many dangers of the area. His scar-covered body bore the memories of his life. His skin, like many his people's, was green, but his was a deeper shade, a tell-tale sign that he was tainted further than the rest with fel energy.
He rubbed his balded head with rough hands, sliding them down over his piggish face. He grunted in frustration. Only he in his damned spite could have chosen to keep the summoning circle this far away from the meeting point. Well, he and about every other demon that was lord of a domain here in the Nether. It bothered the warlock, and he knew it. All he wanted was to get this ill business finished with, and he went the extra mile, literally, to prolong it. Dusting off his darkened robes, the orc pressed onward.
At length, he came upon a wide crater, a great dust bowl of red sand and rocks riddled with other, smaller craters, though these were still large enough to hold five men in each. It was the usual landmark where they conducted business. He sighed, the air rumbling tiredly out of him. "Alright, let's get this done with."
He drew two circles much like the one he had arrived in but with alterations. One was far larger than the other and inscribed with glowing runes. These runes would bind both him and his "landlord" to follow proper demonic law while the meeting took place. Of course, the landlord had to agree to come. Otherwise, it would be a wasted trip. The warlock did not doubt he would accept, however. "He" was always eager to conduct a transaction and, if he was in a good mood, mock the old orc. Sometimes, he accepted only to do that.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on a name, pronouncing it several times in his mind before finally speaking it to the world. "Kelazzahadhash, I summon you."
A second passed. Nothing. Another ticked by. There, in the circle, rose a bit of smoke. Third second. Sparks began to fly and sizzle, the earth on the larger, empty circle cracking apart. Four, five seconds...
There was a rumble and a loud boom like thunder, the ground bursting upward. From the new hole there rose the hellish figure of a fiend, his skin covered in blue fire. His teeth were perpetually bared and his squinted, slanted eyes were placed on a nose-less face. A long mane of writhing fire tumbled over his back. In place of feet, he had two heavy cloven hooves. He spoke in a cracking, guttural roar. "Krul'gor... I see you've come to greet me so soon after your last visit? This is unusual."
The orc stood, jaw clenched as he pointed a stern finger at the demon. "How many times must I tell you to -never- use my full name, Kelaz? Only superiors and close peers may call me by that."
Kelaz's gurgled laughter burst out of him. "Brrrraaahahahahahaha! If I am not your master, then surely I am a peer closer than any other, Krul? Braaah, at any rate, why do you call me? Have you a proposal or are you so broken that you can't even depreciate yourself good enough and need myself to do it? Either is an appropriate reason to call for me."
Krul stared Kelaz directly in the eye, forcing himself not to look away. He could not show weakness now. "I need more power," he replied.
Kelaz seemed almost surprised. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, though he did not seem displeased. "Mrrrrrrmrrrm... it has been a long time since you last asked me for new rights, mortal. Even when last you came, you only used what control you already had to create that little playground."
Kelaz pointed to the ground between them. From it grew a box-shaped shadow that steadily grew. The shadow became tangible, and from it spewed up a box of black metal, wrapped in thick chains with a skull-shaped lock holding it all down. Within came agonized screams, bloodthirsty roars, and weeping moans. The box shook violently, and it could have easily been said that everything inside was abominable enough to cause even demons to break down in horror. Krul's teeth ground together in angry shame as he saw it. "Put it away. NOW!"
With a snap of his fingers, Kelaz dismissed the box, withering it to ash and smoke. He grinned maliciously. "It was so generous of you to give me that for free, Krul. I would have paid generously for such a toy. The single greatest gift of mortals: hatred, violence, and greed beyond even the capability of lesser demons. You needed to control your minions more efficiently and resorted to that before bargaining with me! Do you truly have no intelligence, you old sack?"
Krul's brows furrowed and his breathing became heavy. All he wanted to do was rip the demons jaw so that he may learn some manners. But this was not Philistine, his imp, or Thelamia, his succubus. This was Kelazzahadhash, lord of this particular portion of the Twisting Nether, and his will was equal, perhaps even superior, to the orc's so long as he remained within his territory.
Breaking the silence, the warlock barked out. "I need a new power, now will you bargain me for it or not?"
Kalez chuckled briefly, then quirked an eyebrow as he regarded the orc. He tauntingly extended a hand toward it, though remained careful to remain inside the circle's boundaries. "State your wish, oh great Feleye."
Krul took a deep breath. This was the reason he had come here. "I need the ability to turn the enemy's vitality into my own. I need this body to be rejuvenated, to be useful again. Simply healing wounds won't do, I need to be young again!"
At this, Kalez furiously stomped, his hoof forming a prominent print on the ground. "YOU THINK I AM A FOOL?" he roared, "Why would I grant you an escape from your imminent death, Krul'gor? You are asking me to give you what every warlock wants: eternal life, the chance to escape his damnation indefinitely! Your soul is MINE once you stop breathing, orc! Even a defective infernal would not be dumb enough to make that transaction! Why should I give in?"
"I need to serve my people again! This body, it is no good. I have come too close to death many times already. I would have been glad to finally die in service of my people or even break down in the middle of battle, but I can no longer afford that luxury. Things have changed in the mortal plane. The world has been broken and my people are attacked on all sides. War has come from our enemies of old."
Kelaz wiped the spittle from his chin, though he still fumed and huffed like a charred chimney. "What would I gain in return, anach kyree*?"
Krul smirked. He had at least broken away the complete aversion to granting the ability from him. Of course, it was not because the demon pitied his cause. He simply knew that this strong sentiment on behalf of his "tenant" meant he was willing to vouch a great deal for it. "Souls. Many souls. You have not fed the fires of your gut with enough of them for a long time, have you, Kelaz? It's not enough. Your power does not grow because I do not come begging for power. Well, war comes and with it comes the death of many. Death enough to reap the souls needed to fill whatever quota you desire. Besides, grant me this power, and I may require more power, and that means more souls still. If I die soon, though, I won't be able to make the cut, so prolonging my lifespan - as well as my ability to perform - is in your best interest. Have you forgotten how this association works? The point is not to get me killed. It is to use me for your benefit, and for me to use you for mine. Now, will you tell me how many or will I have to leave?"
Kelaz wrung his hands together, thinking about just how much this was worth to the warlock before him. His rows of teeth were borne with glee.
"A thousand souls,"
Krul notably blanched, and the demon's grin widened even more, "and not one less."
"That- that is..." Krul sighed. His shoulders slumped. Swallowing the bile that had risen to his throat, he looked up once more at the awaiting demon. "I'll do it."
Kelaz howled out triumphantly, both to see the orc's spirit broken and by the new prospect. "Brrraaaahahahahaha! It is done, then! ACCEPT YOUR NEW POWER, KRUL'GOR FELEYE!" He spread his fingers toward Krul. Tendrils of sickly-green energy flowed through them and snaked quickly toward the orc's body. The bit into his flesh and poured in through his mouth, nose, and eyes. Krul endured the pain, not letting anything short of a cold sweat show that he was in pain.
When it was done, he was left kneeling on the ground, steam rising from his pores. He panted, then rose up with some effort. He stared at his hands with aching eyes. Before he could look up, he heard a the booming thunder again. Where Kelazzahadhash had stood there only lay a smoking crater once more.
Krul slowly turned around and began to make his way to the portal once more. The shame of his action lay beneath his stoic and determined face. Nothing but the chaos of the Twisting Nether was witness to it.
"Though my sins will haunt me forever, I will serve. For the Hordeā¦"
*miserable insect in Demonic/Eredun
