Death of a Steamsmith, The rise of a Warlord

His bloodlust still rode high after the events of the night.  His heart pounded in his ears as the sound of sword on sword clanging still rang in his memory.  Time and again the so called Guardians rose only to be cut down again some even loosing their lives utterly in that grand battle, their healers continually dragging corpses away to revive them only to send them back into hell once again.  The sheer might of Hell and Lord Satan coursing through each stroke of his halbreds.

The thought alone made him grin as he stalked the dark streets of legacies as the fires in the sewers still burned on… it was indeed beginning to feel more like home and the abyss would rise again proudly.  He could sense the eyes of demonkind turning to take notice of his efforts as he slipped down… disappearing into the sewers walking through the flames that licked at the clothing burning it away.  Eventually he mouthed the words as he came to a fork in the tunnels.  A blast of heat eruped as the tunnels began to glow with the heat of hell.  Stepping through the hidden portal he emerged into the blood soaked fields which bordered the bridge from hell to this world.

As he looked about himself after emerging on the other side of the portal he saw the bodies of the bridge’s defenders rotting and burning as demonic carrion eating birds picked at the bones and remaining fetid meat.  This place knew true hell when Warlord Eric brought the forces of hell to it so many month ago, and it would know hell again as Warlord Grey walked the bridge towards the lava pits of the Abyss.

As he crossed to the other side his eyes looked around and he turned.  Making his way to the cave of the most reknowned armorsmith to the Abyss.  Stepping into he spotted the old imp stooped over an anvil banging away at stygian iron as the green flames of the hellforge illuminated the area.

“Imp!  I am Warlord Grey.  I have come to you because I demand armor.  My efforts have now reaped such chaos in the other world that I have need of it.  Now with all speed complete this order.”

The grisled imp nodded and pointed to the corner.  The glow of the hellfire illuminated a suit of platemail.  A dark ashen color bordered in blood.  The symbol of Lord Satan emblazoned on the shield.

“I knew the time would come that you would call on me…. Take this suit Warlord… bring our Lord’s will to the worthless creatures of the topworld.”  Said the imp in it’s roughened squeaky tone.

Warlord Gray nodded and walked to the armor and ran his fingers over the searing metal.  Taking peice by peice as he slide it onto his body letting the metal sear it’s marks into his flesh as he became one with it.  His black heart thrilled at the feel of the metal wrapping his body.

“One more thing…  Warlord….” The old imp stepped up beside him adjusting and tightening straps on the armor as he spoke.  “This armor must be properly baptized in the blood of a mortal…..”

“So it shall be….” Draven smirked and nodded as he tucked the helm under his arm… “And what of a proper weapon?  These halberds are too clumsy… to slow…”  Showing the imp the weapons as he tossed them aside.

The Imp grinned as he hopped off, the weak underdeveloped wings flapping uselessly against the heated air in the forge.  Stopping in front of a chest waiting for Warlord Gray to catch up before running a clawed finger over the lock and flipping it open raising the lid on the chest.  Warlord Gray reached over the shoulder of the imp closing his hand around the sword lifting it up.  Seeing each wicked curve of the thing, the long sharp blade and bloodstone inlay.

“This will suffice… You may be worth something afterall, imp.”  Snorts the Warlord.

“So they tell me, Warlord.  Now go forth for Lord Satan… Bring them Hell on earth and glory to the Abyss.”

“For the Abyss…” Nodded the Warlord as he turned strapping the blade to his hip and sliding the helmet on to his head.  Feeling the metal confrom mystically to the contours of his horns.

As he stepped from the cave he made his way to the abyss.  Draping the cloak over his shoulders as the devil raptor’s feathers ontop of his helm fluttered in the hot wind.  Crossing the bridge he paused one last time to let the screams and wailing of the tormented souls in the Abyss fill his ears as he smiled.  Making his way, finally, back to the portal which led to the other world.   As he did so a voice boomed across the sky.

“Warlord!  This is the last time you will be able to return to the Abyss untill you are successful carrying out my will.”

His eyes floated about, though he knew he would not see the speaker, he simply nodded stepping back into the portal.  As he arrived in the lands of Legacies he turned watching the portal crumble in on it’s self sealing it’s self off.

The stink of the sewers and burning rats and shit filled his noce once again as he emerged from the sewers into the night air of Legacies.  Taking to the sky once again he crossed his arms over his chest and watching the flow of the living creatures scurrying about.  Waiting for the right sacrifice to present it’s self.

After only a few short moments he spotted a white-haired mortal with what looked like electricity on his body heading towards the steam smithery.   Warlord Gray let him get to a spot where the man was alone in the alleyway before he followed and dropped down from the sky onto him drawing the new sword from his hip.

The battle lasted for quite a long while,  each blow matched almost evenly between the demon lord and the mortal.  A feat not lost on the warlord as he shoulder checked the mortal and sent him sprawling hard to the cobblestones.  Plunging the point of his sword into the man’s neck and twisting it as blood sprayed across the demon’s armor and face.

Draven lifted the helmet off his body and quickly got rope and hoisted the dead mortal’s body to hang upside down from the fire escape ramps between the apartments as he finished removing the man’s head.  The blood now pouring from the wound down over the Warlord as he tilted his head back as if it were nothing more than a normal shower.

As the blood soaked into the armor it began to glow a dark red.  Heat eminating upwards from it as the consecration of the suit was completed.

Turning he returned the helm to his head and walked away from the scene.  Taking to the sky again as his laughter rang down over the buildings.

Warlord Gray has come, and hell comes with him.