Thirty
Fallen throne room, Ruins of The Capital
To the far north of Turbulus lay the accursed ashen wastelands known as The Deadlands. Inhabited for centuries by the most powerful creatures of the Demonic Legion, the lands that had been corrupted from a lush meadow to apocalyptic gray badlands.
This terrain of pestilence had engulfed the once-proud capital city of Turbulus, snuffing out its majesty and replacing it with a crumbling ruin, charcoaled streets and desecrated ground.
In this slice of Hell resided the powerful Demon General, Mammon, manifestation of greed itself. This savage tyrant had been harrowed from the underworld by the Dark Star herself centuries ago during the Twilight Wars and then again by his elder brother Archdemon Azazel.
Not content with living in the shadow of his infernal brother, Archdemon Azazel, this demon conquered The Capital and took it as his own.
The virulent presence of such a powerful demon poisoned the ruins and the land itself.
The stony palace and skeletal buildings, seared down to their foundations housed the private army of Mammon, restless and eager for more bloodshed.
In the dark halls of the murdered royal family the new master of The Capital sat upon his usurped throne.
Mammon's satyr scouts had brought news of Myst City's attack by vampires and their weakened defenses. The Demon Lord was itching to send his army south to claim another city as his own.
To his dismay, his master- Archdemon Azazel, Commander of the Demonic Legion, forbade Mammon from mobilizing, under threat of torture- a very real possibility, Azazel would carry out enthusiastically.
Mammon feared the wrath of his older brother and begrudgingly sat on his hands as his army hungered for bloodshed.
And so, Mammon perched atop his throne listening to the raised voices and squabbling of his lieutenants. The demonic aberrations fought and bickered over military procedure, equally frustrated by Azazel's uncertain commands.
Mammon was crafted by his master, Daeva to embody the vice of greed. A truly horrific being to behold, a trait he shared with his other Demon Lord kin. He resembled a vastly swollen insectoid monster, over seven feet tall with ragged tendrils sprouting from his back.
He rolled a gold signet ring on his finger, ripped from the cold dead hands of the fallen king he had personally slain.
"Silence fools, leave me!" he ordered, his inferiors immediately complying, many of them disfigured victims of Azazel's torture chamber.
An enchanted orb of scrying sat atop a nearby pedestal. Mammon had spent many hours recently corresponding with his demonic brethren, most equipped with a similar artefact of long-distance communication.
His contact in the Heartless Swamp, Lady Crow had informed him the wielder of Souldrinker was now on the warpath and ready to rack up an immense kill count with a little more provocation.
His elder brother Azazel's plans were always long term and insidious by nature and he was well-attuned to the incarnations of ancient powers.
Mammon would be lying if he didn't envy Azazel. Even his new throne was a hollow achievement, he was still subject to his brother's commands.
All of Archdemon Azazel's plans were to further his ultimate agenda to revive The Dark Star and resume the Twilight Wars.
Mammon preferred a more direct approach, conquering and bloodshed and of course looting to swell his already bursting coffers.
Being surrounded by immense wealth and the spoils of war brought comfort to his otherwise cursed existence.
The stagnant wind howled through the tattered overhead rafters as silence set in over the ruined royal auditorium. The breeze was stirring up unspoken thoughts that had plagued the Demon Lord in recent years.
Do we even want the Dark Star back? She was a brutal slave driver.
Mammon remembered how immense his powers were when augmented by Daeva's.
The weakened state he existed in currently was less than a sliver of what it once was.
In the ancient past he could have flattened an entire army in one charge. Now he was barely stronger than the ogre generals under his command.
It was that hunger for reliving the glorious carnage of the past that drove many of his brethren forward to reunite under Daeva.
Also, to free themselves of the burden of Azazel's rule.
That is why some of his kin deserted, and why most were resentful.
The Archdemon was the only of them to retain his ancient strength and he was not afraid to flex his muscles.