There dwelling deep within that ethereal realm of chaotic magical energies known to most as the Twisting Nether or more simply the nether is a clearly shattered yet still unmoving world now known to its many demonic inhabitants as the DreadScar Rift. Previously existing pressed under the terrible fiery thumb of Jagganoth pit lord and chief lieutenant to the tyrant of even pit lord standerds Dread lord Mephistoth.
This broken planetary shell is currently ruled by a mortal council of warlocks who are led by an ever immensely powerful yet strangely rather human sounding jungle troll named Zae'Sora who's personal mastery over all demonic magic is vast but mostly directed towards demonology and at times affliction. However as under-stood warlocks especially young and inexperienced ones are very power hungry so many desire his throne that of the overlord
Even so most attempts at gaining his domain are rather organized and silent rather then loudly chaotic. An exception being made today by two rather skiled warlocks one being a green skinned Orc who's attempts at screaming are halted only by bioling demons blood being poured down his throat with an obvious effect. His skin began to turn a dark shade of purple not achieved by any night elf while on his back grew sharp spikes likely formed from twisted bone.
As this was happening the orcs companion an elven women looked in horror her beautiful clear skin face being contorted by terror and disgust. Her fellow traitor had never been in such overwhelming pain certainly his body and mind should have broken into tiny shards yet still something in that man lives on possibly from simple instinct or maybe pure rage. Finally said spell caster felt a single solitary drop of green liquid hit his enlarged tusk only to fall down to a small stone burning upon it as fire before losing all strangth.
Flesh distorted beyond recognition to even the most expert investigative minds ask them who stands before there eyes and only demon could be heard possibly as a scream or at least a shout. Watching her once proud friend be twisted into a verity of Fel Orc not seen yet in existence was traumatizing but also in a sick way intriguing. What form of creature bled this demon blood could it be enslaved like others or was this liquid not even bled by a demon but instead be alchemical in origin.
Her pondering stopped as Kartosh may his name be always remembered dragged by iron chains to an unknowing fate of most enternal servitude. What remained was most be all likelihood an immortal demon however one can never be too sure. Talionia knew not her own fate only that death would had been infinitely merceful in comparison.