John Harris, William Church, and Serge. W. Desir, Jr.

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1

THE BALOR
....utternonsense.Theveryideathatadevil hadassaultedtheplaceisludicrous.Ihavenever doubtedthatthecreaturethatattackedtheTowersof VigilanceoutsideoftheBaronyoftheKrineHillsin Bainlandwasademonicspiritknownasabalor. Thesedemonsareknownbyavarietyofnames.Dur ingmytravelsacrossthenorth,particularlyinXyl andCholis,theywereoftenreferredtoasroaring demons,whileAshturianlorereferredtothemas mountaindemonsand,lessfrequently,firede mons(thelatterappellationwasparticularlypromi nentduringwritingsofTheDarkhold).Noneof thesetermsappearintalesorreligioustextsinthe VastExpanse(notevenHavenspeak);however,there arementionsofmanslayerdemonsintalesrelat ingtothepresenceoftheDevourerofSouls,Demo gorgon,duringhiscorruptiveinfluencesintheAsh MountainsduringtheDemonWars.Giventhe descriptionofthesecreaturesasbathedinthefur nace,orasoftenasshadowsgivensubstance,I suspectthattheywereoneandthesamewiththe roaringdemonsandthemountaindemons. IwanttobeperfectlyclearwhyIbelievethesevari ousterms,regardlessoftheprefixoffire,roaring,or mountain,indicatethesamecreature.Unlikemany othersthatstudythespiritworld,Ihavelongsince recognizedthatonecannotexpectconsistencywhere nonecanpossiblyexist.IfHighSeerMortimonis correct(andIbelievethatheis),onecannotexpect orderorbalanceinTheAbyss(letmealsoallowthat IgreatlydespiseCuratorAllmosgrandiosetitlesfor thevariousDepthsBelow;hegavefartoomuchim porttotheseplacesofevil).Iknowthatmanytake painstopointoutthedifferencesinappearancebe tweenthesemountain,fire,androaringdemonsand believethatthesedifferencesindicatedifferentde monicspecies.Thisisclearlyduetoshort sightedness. Legendsassociatedwithmountaindemonsreveal themtobehulking,apelikemonstrositiescoveredin bloody,foulblackhairwithtalonedhandsandfeet, withpiercing,starlikeeyesandlarge,bonewhite 2

horns.Contrastingly,firedemonsarealwayssaidto appearashugeskeletalcreatures,theirbonesactu allymadefromshadowwithflamesforfleshor,for themorepoetictalespinner,muscle.Theroaring demon,whilebipedal,mixesthefeaturesofamad denedlionortigerwithfacialfeaturesandcoloration ofawasporsomeotherstinginginsect.Whilethe legendsandtalesallrelatethatthesevariousde monictypeswieldswordsofflameorlightning(I willexpanduponthisinterestingtidbitlater)and thattheycarrywhips,thosethatpromotetheidea thatthesearedifferentdemonspointoutthatmany fiendishspiritsareknowntowieldsuchweapons. Mycolleagues,infocusingonthetalesalone,are foolishlyignoringavarietyofimportantfacts.The mostglaringofthesemissedordismissedfactsisthe ephemeralnatureofthesedemonicsightings.Almost withoutexception,suchaccountsareswiftandpass ing.Likewise,timehassurelycorruptedtheaccuracy oftheoriginaldescriptionsasbothbardandhisto rianalikehavelefttheirmark,innocentornot,upon suchtales.Formypart,Ihaveturnedtoanother source:images.Duringmytravels,Ihavefoundbas reliefs,sculptures,frescoes,and(onlyinBurquebain) muralsdepictingthesecreatures.Indeed,thephysi caldescriptionsthelegendsrelateallbearout;how ever,theyalsoallsharedistinguishingsimilarities. First,thefiredemonsarenottheonlyonescovered inflames.InastartlinglylifelikestatueIencoun teredinthedepthsofacollapsedcavenearCholis,I sawatoweringroaringdemon.Somehow,eventhe stoneappearedtobeshadowembracedbysilent, stoneflames.Itborenoweapons,butInotedhowits armsandhandswereconfigured.(Letmealsosay thatIwouldnotbesurprisedifthestatuewasactu allyapetrifiedbalordemon.Aldrasaveanyonewho isfoolishenoughtoreleasethecreaturefromitsim prisonmentifIamright.)FrescoesinAshturreveal theterriblemountaindemonasanapelikebeast withhairmadefromshadowbathedinanimbusof flame.Italwayscarriesapillarofflamesinonehand andaserpentinewhipinanother.Thewhipanden ergyswordimageryareidenticaltothefiredemon (andthemanslayer,apparently)muralIencountered duringabriefstayinBurquebain.Thesolefirede moninthisstartlinglyrealisticrenderingheldabolt

oflightninginitsrighthand,aboltthatdescended fromtheskyandscorchedtheground.Intheleft hand,itcarriedawhipthatlooklikeabarbcovered, headlessserpent. I want to point to the nature of these weapons. De spite the popular opinion that these weapons just appear to be made from flame or lightning, I am of the position that they truly are flame or lightning. Further, I believe that they are manifestations of the creatures anger, metaphors for its desire to cause burningtormenttoallthings,heldtogethersolelyby the foul will of the creature. It is for this reason that it is almost impossible to procure a balors weapon upon its death as the weapon is really a part of the demon. (This is also why that on the rare occasions these tales end with the demons death, it either ex plodes in a blast of soot always when its on the mortal coil or in a blast of flames always in tales associated with battles in The Abyss.) Mycolleaguesalsodiscountthemannerinwhichthe legends say these spirits appear. They always appear in areas in which there is a great deal of passionate turmoil.Theyrarelyseemtoarriveinareasthathave strong, beneficent governments or even in areas in which there is great benevolent liberty. Instead, they appear towards the end of great social upheavals or else in the midst of destructive riots. The legends suggest that they revel in turmoil and anger, liter ally whipping others into acts of random violence driven by rage and hatred. And, if they are not swiftly defeated, they light upon a place of authority, preferablyaplaceofjusticeormercy,anddesecrateit before taking it as their seat of power where upon they perpetuate more violence in their territory and, in short order, beyond. I suspect that these creatures do not just appear towards the end of such situa tions,butworkinthebackgroundstokingtheembers ofviolenceandanarchy,findingthemeanstofoment discontent and aggression in those chafing under any authority or excess happiness and contentment. Sometimes they do this through mortal servants, sometimes through lesser demons (most demons are lesser compared to these), or else through other mon sters and spirits. While they lack the patience and longterm planning characteristic of a devil, these

demons horrifically surpass mortals in lifespan, in telligence, and power to release the shackles of con formity in lesser creatures... Certainly, they orches tratetheseupheavals. Let me also say that I personally believe that all of the sightings of mountain demons in the Deep Sea areaandthemanslayeraccountsintheVastExpanse andsoforthallrefertothesamefourorfivedemons. In other words, I believe that the legends grossly exaggerate the number of demons that have appeared inDrm.IftheCilidian iscorrectandifthewritings of Drenicus the Wise are accurate, a single balor demon could effortlessly terrorize a single kingdom; how much more could dozens accomplish? This brings me back to the matter of the demon the Seven encountered in the Krine Hills. That is was a demon is no doubt. The question is, What drew it there? To date, no one has been able to discern if it was accidentally summoned, awakened from some slumber, or arrived of its own volition. It did not attempt to take control of the Krine Hills; rather, it soughttodesecrateanimportantreligiouscenterand bring anguish and anger to the surrounding area. It was swiftly dispatched by the Seven (who, by their own accounts, were incredibly lucky as they had accessto aweapondesignedto defeatdemons).What did it want, and is it a new balor never before en countered? My suspicion is that the creature simply took advantage of a situation and did not put much thought into its actions. Indeed, it sought a conflict and, if the reports I heard are correct, its presence alonedid cause significant conflict in the Krine Hills and eventually drew Ministerial displeasure upon the baron andthe Duke of Barthrod. The demon may not be there to witness its handiwork firsthand, but somethingtellsmethatitismorethanawareofwhat its actions have reaped. I do, however, suspect that it is a new balor and pray that it does not find the meanstoreturntotheMortalCoil. Now, onto the matter of the ultrodaemon...
Excerpt from Spirits of the Depths Below by Xpa the Renown, High Seer of the Seers Library in Mandl, the Common Era.

A reproduction of the Mountain Demon referred to by Xpa the Renown in his Spirits of the Depths Below by the Well Known
Dwarven Painter, Lexi Dias of the Burning Crown.

Balor (CR 20)

CE Large Outsider (Chaotic, Evil, Extraplanar, Mazza'im) Init +11; Senses darkvision 60 ft., true seeing, Perception +41 Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Draconic, telepathy 100 ft. _______________________________________________ AC 35 (+7 Dex, +19 natural, -1 size), touch 16, flat-footed 28 hp 290 (20d8 +200); death throes; DR 15/cold iron and good Immune fire, poison Resist acid, cold, electricity 10; SR 28 Fort +22, Ref +19, Will +19 _______________________________________________ Speed 40 ft. (8 squares), fly 90 ft. (good) Melee +1 vorpal bastard sword +30/+25/+20/+15 melee (2d8 + 13/19-20) and +1 flaming whip +30/+25/+20 melee (1d4 + 6 plus 1d6 fire plus entangle) and 2 wings +29 melee (2d6 + 6) and gore +29 melee (3d8 + 6 and disease) or; Melee 2 slams +31 melee (3d8 + 12) and 2 wings +29 melee (2d6 + 6) and gore +29 melee (3d8 + 6 and disease) Melee +31 touch Ranged +26 touch Space 10 ft.; Reach 20 ft. Base Atk +20; CMB +33 Atk Options entangle, Great Cleave, Greater TwoWeapon Fighting, Power Attack Special Actions disease, flaming body, summon demons ______________________________________________ Spell-like Abilities (CL 20th) At will blasphemy (DC 25), deeper darkness, desecrate, detect good, detect law, dominate monster (DC 27), fear (DC 22), greater dispel magic, greater teleport (self plus 50 pounds of objects only), insanity (DC 25), power word stun, pyrotechnics, read magic, symbol (all) (DC 27), telekinesis (DC 23), unhallow, unholy aura (DC 26), unholy blight (DC 22), wall of fire (DC 22). 1/day fire storm (DC 25), implosion (DC 27). _______________________________________________ Abilities Str 35, Dex 25, Con 31, Int 24, Wis 24, Cha 26 SQ death throes, innate weaponry Feats Cleave, Great Cleave, Greater Two-Weapon Fighting, Improved Initiative, Improved Natural Attack (slam), Improved Two-Weapon Fighting, Multiattack, Power Attack, Quicken Spell-Like Ability (telekinesis), TwoWeapon Fighting Skills Acrobatics +20, Bluff +34, Climb +25, Diplomacy +34, Fly +34, Intimidate +34, Knowledge (arcana, planes, religion) +33, Knowledge (geography) +17, Linguistics +17, Perception +38, Sense Motive +33, Spellcraft +33, Stealth +23, Survival +33, Use Magic Device +31 _______________________________________________

Organization Solitary or troupe (1 balor, 1 marilith, and 2-5 hezrous) Environment The 666 Torments of The Abyss Advancement 21-39 HD (Large), 40-60 HD (Huge) Treasure Standard coins; double goods; standard items, plus +1 vorpal greatsword and +1 flaming whip _______________________________________________ Death Throes (Ex): When killed, a balor explodes in a blinding flash of light that deals 5 points of damage per HD (100 points for an average balor) to anything within 5 feet per HD (100 feet for an average balor) (Reflex DC 30 half). A balor's death throes appear different depending on whether the death involved is permanent or temporary, and each balor's death throes are individually distinctive although this has no mechanical effect. This explosion automatically destroys any weapons the balor is holding. The save DC is Constitution-based. Disease (Su): A target gored by a balor must make a Fort save DC 30 or else catch demon fever. The save DC is Constitution-based. Entangle (Ex): A balors +1 flaming whip entangles foes much like an attack with a net. The whip has 20 hit points and needs no folding. If it hits, the target and the balor immediately make opposed Strength checks; if the balor wins, it drags the target against its flaming body (see below). The target remains anchored against the balors body until it escapes the whip. Flaming Body (Su): The body of a balor is wreathed in flame. Anyone grappling a balor takes 6d6 points of fire damage each round. This flame never deals damage to the balor, even those who are not immune to fire. Innate Weaponry (Su): A balor can reform or recall its weapons to its hand as a free action. If the balor and the weapons are separated across planar boundaries, the weapons fade. Skills: Balors have a +8 racial bonus on Perception checks. Summon Demons (Sp): Once per day a balor can automatically summon 4d10 dretches, 1d4 hezrous, or one nalfeshnee, glabrezu, marilith, or balor. This ability is the equivalent of a 9th-level spell.

THE ASAKKU
The day was dying. Across the river-vales of Quasii, evening fell. Bathing the serpentine path of the Wynding River with blood-red radiance, the sun had sunk from its lofty perch, impaling its darkening eye upon the western peaks. From the east, shadows slithered, hungrily devouring the lingering light to cover the lands in deepening dusk. Fearing the umbral web of night, warmth fled, leaving the land cold and naked. Stirring as if caught in a collective shiver, the local village of Belnor began drawing down for the long, autumn night. Without the guidance of the light, toil became treacherous and vain. Farmers and merchants alike retreated to their hovels and homes, anxious to seek sanctuary from the pursuing dark. Wary of exhausting their winter stores, the locals miserly stoked their meager hearth-fires, praying that their feeble flames would ward off both dark and chill. Shutters were drawn. Doors were bolted. Locked inside, the villagers huddled in their private havens, hoping that night would pass peacefully and that dawn would come quickly. However, fear gnawed at their hope. In Belnor and beyond, the night was long, and the darkness was not empty. Things stalked its ebon depths. Things that were hateful and hungry. While later sages would call these troubled times the Demon Wars, the common folk of Belnor only knew them as another harried day and another haunted night in a life stained by creeping dread. Like dew, the dread would diminish with the rising rays of the sun, till the villagers all but forgot their slumbering terror. However, with each nightfall, the fear would wake, famished and feral. And to the horror of the poor souls who dwelt in the village of Belnor, the night was coming. The day was dying. Yet, as if born from the last gasp of the dying light, a stranger appeared. Traveling from the western march, the strangers path led him away from the retreating sun and into the darkening gloom. Outlined by the final rays of the sun, the traveler moved with a pace that bespoke both fatigue and determination. Reaching the outskirts of Belnor, the man paused under the withering boughs of a gnarled oak tree. 6

Already succumbing to autumn's touch, the tree had wept a number of crimson-hued leaves, forming a crackling carpet of red for the stranger. Much like the tree whose shadow surrounded him, the man looked haggard and bruised by the hand of time. A tattered cloak hung about his shoulders, its ragged corners whipped by the evening wind. Underneath, a tunic hid, emblazoned with fading symbols of devotion and glory. Well-worn boots caked with the dross of his journey stood as mute testaments to the length of the man's travail. An empty scabbard hung limply at the man' side while a single dagger dangled to its left: a small defense against the dangers of the deepening dark. Like the old oak tree, it was apparent that time had taken its tithe from the stranger. Loss was clearly etched in the gray stubble of his beard and chiseled in the creases of his skin. Yet, as with the massive oak, strength had not utterly forsaken the stranger. Behind the veneer of grime and gray, a reserve of power and persistence radiated like a sun hid behind wintry clouds. Peering from the cowl of his fraying cloak, two grayblue eyes surveyed the scene, lit by an inner light undimmed by age or autumn. Deep roots held the man in place, even as they propelled him forward. Beneath the folds of his dusty robes, a shimmering gauntlet gleamed. Invisible power streamed from its silver-steel. Strength flowed to its wielder. It was both symbol and source of might. To the learned, the gauntlet marked the man as a champion, favored of Celzar, Lord of Lords. However, ignorance reigned in Belnor, and the steel-clad fist remained shrouded by tattered cloth. Nevertheless, the power was there, hidden, waiting, and biding its time till its bearer called upon its might. He would need it; of this, the stranger was sure. Much as his own strength slumbered behind fraying fabrics, so too did the might of his enemy wear a mask. And so he searched. Like lances, the man's iron-hued gaze pierced the sifting shadows of dusk, searching for some clue or sign. For days on end, he had been tracking a foe, following a scent of evil and corruption. That trail, sinister and slippery, had led him to the shadow-cast village of Belnor. Somewhere inside, a dark heart hid, poisoning the village as surely as any pestilence. Silently breathing a hushed prayer, the man called upon his patron for aid. His senses attuning to auras unseen by natural eyes, the stranger gazed once more upon the blighted village, searching for the source of the spiritual cancer.

It did not take long. Lingering on the far side of the village, as if outcast like a leper, a large estate loomed. Even without his god-blessed powers, the man could smell the stench of evil. The rancid scent wafted from the building like a corpse festering under a burning sun. His stomach clenched, as his soul remembered some long digested disease that refused to die. A bead of sweat forming on his graytouched brow, the man steadied himself, forcing down the desire to vomit. Though born from the light, the man was no stranger to darkness. This was neither the first time he had clashed with such a foe nor the only time he had dealt with such a spiritual stain. Raised from the cradle to know the goodness of the Holy Gauntlet, the man's calling to Celzar's priesthood had come at a tender age in a time of peace now dimmed by years of sorrow and sacrifice. Since then, the Demon Wars had been waged, and the gates that held back the feral fiends unlocked. Terrors had ravaged the land, stalking both innocent and guilty. In this waking nightmare, the man's faith had been forged and his devotion refined. He was a priest. The Word was his weapon, the silver gauntlet his shield. His purpose was simple, though all-consuming: purge the wicked and protect the innocent. His burden was to bear the wounds of fighting the former while shouldering the shame of failing the later. Still, his service had not been without success or reward. Blest to carry one of his church's most holy relics, the priest had been found worthy to face one more foe and perhaps to save another soul from sin. So had his god called to him; so had he followed. He had never doubted the divine decree nor its power. However, arriving at his journey's end, the man could not help but question if he had the strength to brave another den of darkness. His body taxed from the toil of his travel, his aged muscles groaned in protest, demanding rest. However, the stranger knew that neither Belnor nor himself could rest until the evil had been purged. Until then, the will of the spirit would have to succor the weakness of the flesh. There was no other way but forward; dawn would not come until night had been felled. As if sensing the man's thoughts, a bone-seeping gust breathed through the streets and fields of Belnor. Its ragged gasp rattled shutters like clacking jawbones even as it greedily tore at the surrounding trees. On the outskirts, the aged oak reluctantly shed more of its scarlet leaves. Clutched by the wind, they scattered like the embers of a dying fire falling

into darkness. Bereft of shelter, the man stoically braced himself against the wind. The threadbare fabric of his clothes doing little to ward off the biting chill, the stranger bore his tribulation in grim silence. Leaving the failing shelter of the oak tree, the stranger once more resumed his journey. Threading his way through the surrounding fields, the priest pressed onward, his gaze riveted upon his dark destination. Out of the corner of his vision, he noticed a number of villagers picking through the burnt shell of a building. Situated near Belnor's heart, the cold ashes left little trace as to the structure's prior appearance or purpose save for a soot-stained sign that dangled limply from a half-broken chain. While its once-brightly painted letters had been blackened beyond legibility, the rough outline of clanking tankards hinted at the ruin's past identity. Aided only by the spitting glow of several lanterns laid nearby, several of the sifters wore heavy handkerchiefs around their faces to ward off the choking cloud of smoke stirred up by their endeavors. The smoky scent seeping into the air, another gust of chill wind carried the cloying scent to the approaching priest. The odor mixing with the scent of evil still gnawing at the stranger's senses, the priest tripped over a previously unseen sack of dirty rags that cluttered the dusty path. Barely catching his fall by grasping hold of a nearby hedgerow, the priest steadied himself with his gauntleted fist. However, the traveler was once more caught off-guard as the pile of rags shifted, revealing the hidden form of a man. Jarred from his slumber by the priest's collision, the disheveled man jolted. Nostrils flared while a dingy face flushed with a sloppy expression of anger. Attempting to quickly rise, the offended man nearly fell over. Clutching his head with a free hand even as his other raised a dark-stained jug to his lips, the man leaned against the shoddy hedgerow for support. Spilling a bit of bitter-smelling liquor upon his already stained tunic, the man warily glanced about, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the priest. Hoping to avert an unnecessary scene that might alert his enemy to his approach, the aged man broke the silence. His voice akin to the sound of a gentle breeze, the priest spoke: "Forgive me, my son; I did not see you." Sneering at the word 'forgive', the obviously drunken man mumbled back -the anger in his voice 7

slurred by both despair and drink, "Nobodys sees Merrec... Not nos mores... cept when blamins to be done or rocks to be throwin..." A familiar mix of pity and disdain welling inside his heart, the elder priest replied patiently, his voice mild and merciful, I come neither to place blame nor throw anything at you, Merrec. I am sorry for disturbing your slumber." Anxious to disengage himself from the irate man, the priest moved as if to leave, but stopped. Inwardly sighing at the delay, his conscience compelled him to linger a little longer in hopes of helping a wayward soul. "Tell me, my son; why do you sleep outside on a cold night such as this? Have you no home -no shelter to escape the chill?" Anger staining the man's cheeks with a crimson flush, the drunk appeared ready to snarl out some spite-filled reply only to look away with simmering shame. Clenching his teeth, the vagrant began to violently swirl his spirit-filled jug. Starring down into the dark, spiraling drink, Merrec seemed torn between divulging his secrets and drowning them in the bottle. Whether sniffling from the chill or stifling a wave of repressed tears, the broken man shook his head in denial, cryptically muttering, No... home... gone... Nevertheless, the mans bleary eyes betrayed him as his gaze wandered over to the dark manor on the hill. At its sight, a bitter wave of emotions washed over the drunk, causing his hands to shake -though whether in resentment or dread, the priest could not tell. Sucking down another swig of spirits, the drunk looked away with a shiver. The child of Celzar, however, did not look away. The priest's iron-blue eyes narrowed as he once more fixed his gaze upon the residence. It continued to radiate evil, wordlessly laughing and taunting him with its sinister silence. Slowly turning back to the drunken man, the priest discovered that the vagrant had noticed his momentary inspection of the manor. Red-rimmed eyes stared with desperate focus, even as Merrecs words revealed his shock and suspicion. You can see it -cant you?! I can see it in your eyes -you know whats in there! Turn round, old man, turn back. Nothing but darkness there now... death... you dont know! I heard it -I heard... her... it... shes 8

the one -she did it, not me! I swear, please... please... I heard her -it laughing... His voice becoming increasingly hysterical, Merrecs mumblings eventually were drowned out by the sound of sobbing. Overwhelmed either by his drunkenness or the demons within, the drunken man collapsed into a heaving wreck of shakes and tears. Not willing to let the man drown in his own darkness, the elderly priest stepped forward. Pushing past the miasma of alcohol that clung to the vagrant, he placed his gauntleted hand upon the mans shoulder, attempting to support the man physically as well as spiritually. Using his unadorned hand, the priest gently pulled Merrecs trembling hand away from his tear-swollen face. Holding Merrecs damp eyes with the power of his own pale-gray gaze, the priest spoke once more, his voice radiating conviction and confidence. Be still, my son, and listen. What you saw -what you heard- was a demon -a foul being from the netherworld. I know because I have been sent here to banish it back to The Abyss from whence it came. Just as He has sent me here, so to has He placed you here, een now, that our paths might cross. The Gauntlet of Holiness has seen your pain and has heard your cry. Cry unto Him for deliverance, my son, for He is mighty to save. Struck with awe and wonder at the piercing majesty of the strangers speech, Merrec could only stare in silence. His tongue eventually loosened as the priest rose and released his gauntleted grasp, Merrec stammered, Y-yes, my Lord. With a mild rebuke, the priest answered, There is but one Lord, my son, and that is Celzar, Lord of Lords. He alone is worthy of that noble title. I am but Elleren, His humble servant. Taking a step back from the tear-streaked man, the weathered priest glanced towards the hill and its lurking menace, saying, Here we must part, my son. Each of us has our own fate to fulfill. May we both bring glory to His hallowed name. Turning as if to leave, Elleren paused. Looking back at the form of the kneeling man still clutching his stained jug, the priest gave one final counsel before parting, Know this, Merrec: not all demons wear the shape of scales and fangs. Far more insidious are those who hide their faces behind mundane masks, whether it be the facade of a friend or the

seductive lure of spirits that hide within homes of ceramic or glass. Leaving the vagrant to ponder his words, Elleren resumed his journey. Pressing his way past the suspicious stares of the soot-covered villagers, the priest headed straight for the foreboding manor. Glancing up again at the leering source of evil, Elleren studied the host that sheltered his appointed foe. Protruding from a stunted hillside like a black boil, the estate had clearly been built by someone of significant importance and wealth. As if to keep away the lessers that lived below, a fence of twisted timbers surrounded the residence. Further isolating the building from the rest of the humble homes below, the central building was shrouded by a thicket of holly and apple trees. While the former were still pregnant with their thorny boughs, the latter seemed anemic and starved. Their leaves already decomposing upon the ground, the scattered apple trees resembled tiny hands begging for deliverance from the cruel cold. Shriveled fruit hung limply from frail branches, permeating the air with the sickly-sweet scent of spoiling blossoms and spreading rot. Breathing in the foul air, Elleren felt a smoldering heat begin to burn his lungs and lips. Its unwholesome touch kindled long-repressed rage memories of loved ones slain, enemies who escaped, and so many other innumerable injustices which fanned the flames of hidden hate. Although tempted, Elleren resisted. Drawing his sacred gauntlet to his lips, the priest attempted to purge the scalding thoughts from his soul. Pushing past the fence of rotting reddenwood, Elleren entered the ominous orchard. Inside, the foreboding signs increased. While the mold-slick walkway threatened to steal Ellerens footing, the weed-infested garden repelled any thought of refuge. Lurking within the blighted grass, tiny carcasses glutted the garden. Bird hatchlings, pecked to death by their own mothers, rotted beside corpses of squirrels and mice. While some appeared torn apart by the claws and fangs of their kin, others appeared mysteriously unmolested save for the indelible mark of death. Regardless, each carrion had remained untouched by scavenger or groundskeeper. Left alone, the grisly carcasses festered. The gardens withered flora fared no better. While the rest of the village warred against the invasion of autumn, the manor and its courtyard had already surrendered to the wasting clutch of winter. Traversing the graveyard-like garden as quickly as

possible, Elleren examined the accursed manor before entering. While constructed in the latest fashion of Quasii architecture, the residence appeared withered by unnatural age. Windows gaped like bleeding wounds. Shutters, chipped and dangling, resembled peeling flesh. A web of cracks slithered throughout the exposed foundation, creating a hiss of bitter wind. Its door -once proudly displaying the carved crest of its owners- clung limply to its frame. At the touch of Ellerens steel-clad hand, the decrepit door crumbled into a shamble of splinters. Stepping through the thorn-like threshold, the priest was swallowed by insatiable shadows. His sight still empowered by his god, Elleren gazed into the house. His gray-blue eyes piercing the veil of darkness, the priest discerned a collection of rooms filled with defiled finery and furniture. Mildew and foul-smelling fungus smothered the rotting walls and floorboards. Strange ichor seeped from the ceiling, and out of the corner-of-his-eye, the aged child of Celzar swore he saw it slither. However, Ellerens attention was captured by the sound of sobbing which eerily echoed from above. Trudging across the cluttered chambers, Elleren began to scale a set of rot-riddled stairs. Nearing the summit, the priest caught a fleeting glance of something dark and silent levitating in the air above him. From the shadow hissed a malevolent snicker. Before he could respond or take a closer look at the figure, Elleren was caught by a blast of rending wind. Tearing him from the stairs, the wind devoured the staircase and much of the rooms beyond, vomiting them forth in a hail of scything splinter and shrapnel. While his bruised body cried out in pain, the priest was spared from death by a number of fast-fading enchantments. Wincing with pain as he pulled himself free from the wreckage, Elleren gazed warily about for his assailant. However, the hissing shadow had disappeared. Up above, though, the sobbing remained the pain-wracked pleading an undeniable call to the servant of Celzar. Throwing off the useless tatters of his cloak, the priest uttered another prayer. Renewing a number of his magical protections, Elleren drew upon the Word to climb an invisible stairway of air. His heavy boots eventually touching down upon the husk of an upstairs hallway, Elleren hastened towards the source of sobbing. His divine-blest vision throbbing from the overpowering aura of evil which radiated from within the same room, the priest abandoned any lingering shred of self-concern upon hearing the sobbing become a wailing crescendo of agony echoed by another unearthly scream of hate. 9

Exertion and worry birthing a grim layer of sweat upon his brow, Elleren battered down the locked door ready to face whatever horrors lurked beyond. Or so he thought. Inside the room, a young girl sat upon a large bed framed with reddenwood. Sticky crimson stained her bedding and covered the tattered remnants of her night-gown. With pale-blond hair writhing like enraged vipers, the girls face was a nightmarish expression of hatred and hurt. Streaks of blood, dimly reflected by the broken mirror behind her, slithered across her skin. Eyes -terrible serpentine eyes- stared with unblinking rage. Lit by some foul inner glow, they gleamed a sickly shade of yellow reminiscent of urine and pus. From her distorted lips issued a stream of obscenities. So perverse, so wrong, were the words that Elleren had to consciously will himself not to strike down the child were she lay. As if sensing his struggle, the demented child the thing- turned its gaze upon Elleren. Deranged, frenetic laughter tore from the childs throat like a savage animal. Above her, a woman screamed. Held aloft by some unseen power, a woman, perhaps no more than thirty winters old, was nailed to the ceiling. Her limbs bent back like some malcontorted spider, the woman was impotently thrashing as her joints slowly tore from their sockets. Desperation and agony warred upon her face, threatening to tear it in twain alongside the rest of her breaking body. Amidst the wreckage of the rest of the room, a man or at least the pitiful remains of man- lay in a corner. Defiled in so many ways as to make it impossible to discern what had finally killed the man, the corpse hung impaled upon a childs coat-rack, brazenly displayed like some grisly trophy or carelessly discarded like a broken toy. Staring in horror at the corpse, Elleren prayed he never learned how the man died. Distracted by Ellerens arrival, the girls vile grip on her victim slipped. The invisible vice slackening just enough for her to speak, the woman cried out to the priest, Help us! my daughter, Lyssa, shes n Noticing the momentary lapse in control, the girl hissed another stream of curses and, with but a 10

flicker of will, renewed her hold on the woman above. Slamming her into the ceiling with such force that the rotting wood began to splinter and crack, the gore-soaked child began to drag the woman across the length of the room, grinding the womans back into a bloody pulp. An ugly, scarlet smear followed in her wake. The screaming renewed. Unwilling to let such torment go unchecked, Elleren stepped forward. Raising his unadorned hand to the heavens, the priest attempted to banish the girls malevolent power over the woman. Yet, even as he prepared to speak the words, Elleren felt something horrible trying to crawl inside his head. A sea of images of spilt blood, mindless slaughter, and ravaged corpses attempted to drown out his mind. Raising his silver gauntlet like a shield, the priest called upon its holy power to purge the fiendish attack upon his sanity. Upon seeing the gleaming relic and sensing its piercing power, the demented child screamed with incomprehensible rage. Fear quickly replaced by fury- flooded her serpentine, unblinking eyes. All of her malice diverted to the priest who dared to wield such heavenly power in her presence, Lyssa summarily released her hold on the woman. Without energy or ability to break her fall, the woman plummeted to the ground like a bag of brittle branches. The sound of snapping bones, accompanied by another wave of screams, filled the air. Attempting to heal the womans broken skin and soul, Elleren's prayer was interrupted as Lyssa leapt off the bed and with but a thought, caused the entire bed, frame and all, to fly hurtling across the room. While Elleren barely dodged the attack, the crippled woman was powerless to evade the killing blow. However, just before the massive frame crushed the paralyzed woman into an ungodly smear, Elleren acted. Still prone from his own haphazard leap to safety, the priest once more raised his gauntlet. Calling upon the Word, a glimmering, radiant gauntlet -like unto Ellerens but only many times larger and shimmering with incorporeal light- appeared in front of the helpless woman. Catching the onrushing bed in its ephemeral, silver fist, the conjured gauntlet struggled to hold back the bed which threatened to crush the weakened woman. Furious at the priest's intervention, Lyssa focused all her hatred into the hurled bed, attempting to overpower the conjured gauntlet with sheer spite. At the same time, Elleren remained resolute in the womans

defense and poured all his devotion and faith into maintaining his magic and pushing back the threatening object. An intense struggle ensued. Blood leaked from Lyssa's nostrils. Sweat poured from Elleren's skin. Her fate caught in the balance, the poor woman could only feebly drag her broken body before the pain pushed her over the precipice of unconsciousness. The contest continued. Under such inexorable forces, the bed-frame began to crumble. Screaming another stream of vile, horrific expletives, Lyssa relinquished the vain struggle, causing the cracking bed-frame to shatter against the far wall. Through showered with wooden shrapnel, the woman survived. Livid with boiling rage, the haunted girl's body unleashed another primal scream. Behind her, the already fractured mirror shattered, sending slivers of glass into her own skin. Heedless of the pain -or perhaps sadistically embracing her victims torment- the girl's expression became a mask of insane evil. Twisting her neck at a sickly angle, she laughed. Breathing heavily from the physical and mental exertion, Elleren struggled to rise. However, upon spotting the unconscious form of the woman, Elleren felt a surge of hidden strength. Iron will commanding waning flesh, Elleren stumbled over to the woman's side. Praying to Celzar that he was not too late, the priest poured out an invocation of healing upon the woman's wounds. Flesh reforged. Bones re-knitted. Having stabilized the stillslumbering woman, Elleren turned to face the maniacally laughing monster. As iron-blue eyes met serpentine, unblinking orbs, jarring images stabbed into Elleren's mind. In that horrible instant, the priest could see the soul of Lyssa -the real Lyssa- squirming inside her own skin, pleading for release -even if by death. Vile visions of her possession swarmed Elleren's thoughts. In the maddening maelstrom came the insidious hiss of the fiend. It mocked him. He could feel it, promising to release the daughter and mother in return for his own soul. Punctuating the proffered pact, the demon erased another memory from the girl's mind, slowly stripping her of her sanity. Literally throwing himself away the unblinking gaze, Elleren recoiled in horror. Even with such a momentary brush, the aged priest felt soiled. A part of him hated himself for even knowing that some-

thing so vile could even exist. He could feel its relentless contempt. Cold sweat ran down his body even as his lungs burned. Once more, the child of Celzar fought back the urge to vomit. Once more, Elleren resisted. His trembling ceased. Clenching his gauntleted fist, the aged priest saw his reflection in its silver steel. In that celestial mirror, Elleren drew strength. Roots of life-long faith dug deep, drawing upon untapped reservoirs of strength. Rising to his full stature, Elleren locked eyes once more with the fiend-in-mortal-flesh. While the wave of writhing emotions and images once more attempted to wash away his will, the priest stood firm. His eyes neither blinked nor wavered. Raising his silver-shod hand to the heavens, the man shouted against the maniacal laughter, "Neither the girl nor the woman are yours to give, fiend. I know your lying tongue. I know the truth, and I see through your lies! I know thee, demon. I name thee asakku! No longer shall you torment these souls! Prepare to die demon, for your doom is upon you!" Celestial light streamed from Elleren's upraised fist. A lance of divine radiance stabbed down at the fiend, harmlessly passing through the young girl's skin to directly impale the demon that lurked within. Screams of hatred -and pain- snaked forth from the girl's tongue. The demon was done playing -death alone was its desire. Darkness flowed from the fiend, smothering the celestial light even as it began choking the helpless host. Uncaring, unblinking eyes gleamed from the darkness, their slit-like irises an empty abyss. Staring at the priest, the eyes attempted to suck his soul into the endless chasm of dread itself. For a moment, Elleren felt the threads of his life slipping away. Breath and heartbeat halted. Only through sheer conviction did Elleren will himself back into the land of the living. Blood welled from the edges of his eyes, obscuring his sight with crimson tears. But, despite the blinding blood, Elleren's vision remained clear: he had to purge the demon from Lyssa. Summoning strength, the priest hurled himself across the room. Throwing his arms around the gore-slick body of the girl, both priest, demon, and host fell to the ground. The demon within Lyssa's body thrashed; its tremors rippled through the girl's flesh, causing arms to flail. Broken nails attempted 11

to claw out the old priest's eyes. But Elleren held fast. Calling upon his god for strength, the priest mustered all his might to hold down the girl upon the wooden floor. Spitting in rage at the weakness of its host, the asakku attempted to shout another tirade of vile obscenities laced with eldritch power. But Elleren was too quick. Clamping down the young girl's mouth with his mailed hand, the priest prevented the demon from speaking. Palpable fury poured from Lyssa's eyes, reflecting the demon's rage. Shouting with the full measure of his faith, Elleren attempted to banish the fiend even as it forced Lyssa to gnash her teeth on the sacred gauntlet, "In the hallowed name of Celzar, I command you to depar " Cutting-off the priest's invocation, the asakku called upon the Word, hurtling both man and girl across the room. Impacting against the jagged remnants of the broken mirror, Elleren heard something snap in his chest. Painfully plummeting to the splintered floor, the priest lost his grip, allowing Lyssa to slink out of his grasp. Crawling away on all fours, the possessed child eyed him with undisguised hate. Coughing up blood, Elleren attempted to rise and call upon the Word to heal himself; however, the entire room convulsed as if caught in an earthquake. Timbers cracked; floorboards warped and snapped. A corner of the ceiling sloughed off like dead skin. Seized by the unnatural quake, Elleren's prayer was interrupted, and the priest was once more painfully thrown to the ground. Inside his mind, Elleren could hear the demon's laughter, mocking him, blaspheming against his god. Reaching past the pain, the aged child of Celzar lunged at the girl. While Lyssa's body attempted to leap away, Elleren's armoured hand just grasped her ankle, tethering her to the wounded priest. Once more, Elleren attempted to exorcise the demon, even as blood slurred his speech, "In the hallowed name of Celzar, I command you to depart from this innocent. Return to The Aby " Fire. Hungry, hateful flames roared into existence, bathing Elleren in their burning grasp. As if channeling all its rage and hatred, the demon had summoned a font of unholy flames to incinerate the priest. Elleren felt the flash of heat around him. 12

Like dry kindling, his priestly robes ignited, burning his skin like swarming wasps. Floorboards smoldered. Elleren could smell the smoke, the scent of his own burning flesh and hair choking him as he attempted to scream. Trapped in the metal gauntlet, his right hand seared with pain. He could feel it shriveling, blackening beyond repair. The pain was beyond comprehension. But he did not let go. To let go would be death -to let go would, he would forever lose his hold on the girl and demon within. Cursing down at the stubborn man, the possessed child spat a stream of curses even as it conjured myriad walls of flames. Smoke obscuring his iron-gray eyes, Elleren somehow swallowed the pain. He would not relent -not now, not after all he had been through. Concentrating against the pain, he called out to his god. Immediately around him and the child, the flames vanished. His skin still smoldering, Elleren could feel the demon's fear. He could feel the demon weakening. Unfortunately for the aged priest, he too was spent. He attempted to invoke another prayer, to attempt another exorcism, to call down healing, but the pain -the pain stopped him. Ashen flesh filled his mouth; he gagged on smoke. Sensing the priest's weakness and desperate to get away, the asakku cried out. Its voice an inhuman blend of demon and child, Lyssa howled as her entire body convulsed. Her mouth stretching to an obscene size, Lyssa's lips issued a bizarre hissing noise even as her jawbone cracked. Following Lyssa's gurgled scream, a red-scaled serpent emerged from Lyssa's grossly extended mouth. Its tongue flickering outwards, the snake slithered down the girl's chest and across the floor. Even as Elleren crushed the first serpent with his boot, four more emerged from Lyssa's maw. Each climbed up his legs and arms. One by one, they sunk their fangs into his scalding skin. One of the serpents latched onto Elleren's right arm above his gauntlet, writhing back and forth in order to dig its venomous fangs deeper into his flesh. With each bite, Elleren felt his life ebbing as the vile serpents' poison coursed through his bloodstream. His hand and arm turned an revolting blue before it began to blacken like mildew spreading throughout his body. Desperately trying to remove the imbedded snakes, Elleren felt even more strength leave him as the Lyssa reached down to touch him. While barely grazing his cheek, Lyssa's foul caress instilled his soul with a bizarre

numbness and sense of loss. One of the priests last contingencies flaring to life, Lyssa's touch earned her a blast of blinding light. The retributive surge throwing Lyssa away from the poisoned priest, Elleren could see the girl land upon her back. Her body laid oddly still as the demon within seemed dazed by the holy energies. Likewise caught in the heavenly blast, the four serpents shriveled and writhed in pain. One by one, their blood-red scales melted, leaving only four lines of broken ash. Feebly attempting to utter a prayer of healing, Elleren realized to his horror that nearly all his power was spent. At best, he only retained enough to try and finish the exorcism. Crawling forward on his hands and knees, Elleren could feel his life leaking out of his body. The poison stabbing his heart as surely as an assassin's blade, the aged priest reached out his blackened, burnt hand. In the flickering glow of firelight, a single finger remained untarnished by ash and blood. Catching the dying light of the day, the finger fell upon Lyssa's bosom. Underneath the celestial steel, the elderly priest could feel the girl's fragile heartbeat. Burnt tear-ducts shed unseen tears. His voice a mere smoke-choked whisper, Elleren gave all that he had, all that he was, in one last act of service, "In the hallowed name of Celzar, I command you to depart from this innocent. Return to The Abyss from whence you came!" As if expunging a sickening poison, Lyssa's stomach began to tremble. Inside her body, the demon gnashed in disbelief and desperation. Her back arching in a series of wracking spasms, Lyssa's stomach distended violently. Blasphemies and curses hissed from inside the child. But the blasphemies grew distant. The child's stomach shrunk. The spasms subsided. Lyssa -the true Lyssa- stirred as if rousing from some unnaturally long slumber. Her eyes flickering open for a mere moment, the young girl found herself staring into the glazing eyes of a stranger. Iron-blue eyes dimly starred back. A smile -or perhaps a sigh- escaped the strangers lips. The last breath escaping the his pierced lungs, Lyssa heard the man murmur a name with utmost reverence, yet familiarity. "Celzar..." Lyssa watched as the light dimmed in the man's eyes like setting suns. Darkness filled the emptiness.

Attempting to rise, the girl looked around, her head swooning with confusion and pain. Smoke and fire hungrily tore at the edges of the room -her room. Or at least, what was once her room. Like a halfremembered nightmare, her mind swam with visions of carnage and terror. Panic seized the child -tears streamed down her checks, their rivulets impotently attempting to wash away the gore which stained her skin. Her wounds pulling her back down to the splintered floor, sobs began to clench her body. She tried to call out -but fear and a secret shame stilled her tongue. Starring into the empty eyes of the stranger, she let the yawning darkness take her. She closed her eyes, praying that the nightmare might end. The flames stretched forth and crept closer. Feeling their heat, Lyssa's mother finally stirred. In the smoke-filled darkness, Lyssa's mother somehow stumbled across her daughter's slumbering form. Tripping over the stranger who had given his life to save her and her daughter, Lyssa's mother could find no words to utter in thanks. While he had healed her flesh, her soul remained a haunted shell. Cradling her daughter in her arms, Lyssa's mother numbly left the burning ruins of her home. Somehow, she escaped the clawing flames. How, she could not say. Maternal instinct drove her like a dumb animal. After all the abuse, her entire body ached. She tried not to think. Thinking invited too many terrible thoughts. Oblivious to all around her, Lyssa's mother -still cradling her unconscious child- stumbled down the decaying hillside, blinded to the death and decay which surrounded her on every side. Dragging herself till her legs could no longer carry her and her burden, Lyssa collapsed just beyond the edge of the rotting fence. In her haunted stupor, she failed to notice the din of the growing crowd. They had seen the priest enter the hillside manor. They had heard the screams. They had seen the fire. Like moths, they approached the flame, their fury overcoming their fear. By the time Lyssa's mother finally limped out of the still-burning wreckage of her home, exhausted to the point of barely being able to stand, nearly fifty of her townsfolk stood outside. Her eyes pleading, she looked to the crowd in the vain hope of finding any shred of mercy from those humen that had been her neighbors. In the harsh glow of the devouring flames, all she saw were eyes 13

reflecting doubt, resentment, fear, and hatred. Dimmed by the darkness, familiar faces were veiled and hidden behind masks of mistrust. She started stammering, her voice hoarse, "The priest -h-he saved us. P-please, can't you see? Can't you see we're inno " A heavy ceramic jar sailed through the air. Whether aimed at the woman or the child, the mother instinctively absorbed the blow with her own body. The ceramic jug shattering against her skin, dark liquor spilled from it, mingling with fresh blood. Silence smothered the crowd. Only the crackling flames above invaded the steely silence. Like the shards of ceramic which fell from the woman's arm, the crowd turned to the wounded mother and child. The scent of blood and drunkenness filled the air. One by one, all eyes focused upon Lyssa and her mother. A collective shiver went through the crowd. Like a taught tether, silence was all that held back the mob -silence that was straining under the weight of a hundred eyes of anger. Something stirred from the back of the crowd. A dirty, disheveled man, reeking of spirits, raised a stained finger, screaming out a single accusation, "Demons!" Nearly before he hissed the last letter, the mob awakened. Stones, rocks, and shrapnel became instruments of murder. A storm of raining death pelted Lyssa and her mother. Unsatisfied with such an impersonal slaughter, the mob charged, tearing apart the woman and child with their bare, bloodthirsty hands. Like a crimson tide, it was soon over. With hands stained a shameful scarlet, none of the townsfolk could bring themselves to look at the humen they had killed, nor could they bring themselves to look at each other. In near-total silence, the mob dispersed. Empty shells, they stumbled back to their homes and hovels. Like the ash-strewn ruins of their village's heart, the people of Belnor were dead inside -doubt and distrust had seared their consciences. One by one, they shuffled back to homes that seemed less safe, less secure. Above all, one felt the loss most keenly. He had returned to his home -the home that he had aban14

doned -the home that had abandoned him. Unlike the others, the man held no illusions: there was no shelter from the cold. His eyes blinded by the raging fire which surrounded him and by the knife of icy numbness which stabbed his heart, Merrec stood still and silent, oblivious to all around him. He was alone. Yet, amidst the smoldering ashes, something stirred. Shrouded by the darkness of the night, a shadow slithered. Twin orbs of sickly shinning light gleamed behind a veil of smoke. Its gaze eventually falling on the lonely figure by the fire, the thing hissed with hate and hunger. Smoke clawed through the sky, shrouding the heavens. Like umbral snakes twisting to form a tapestry of ebon twilight, the ashen clouds swallowed both moon and stars. Darkness descended. The night had come. The day was dead.

Trust is the adhesive which binds together relationships and allows families, even societies, to form and stabilize. In the absence of trust, mortals affiliate with each other grudgingly, if at all. Devoid of trust, such associations that do exist often become marred by internal strife and hostility. However even in those circumstances where trust is present, trust is rarely absolute, and mistrust and fear between mortals has often led to dire and disastrous consequence. More often than not, these disastrous consequences are the vile fruit of The Abyss, spawned by demented minds and demonic flesh. Few things benefit The Abyss more than mortals who succumb to hostility and aggravation. Stripped of trust, these mortals increasingly spurn goodness and order as utterly impotent in a Creation where they perceive everyone is at war with everyone else. These beings with such a warped view soon resemble demons in mind and deed, if not flesh, as they respond with bloodlust to every slight and precariously balance on the edge of paranoia. Foremost among The Abyss' means of spreading the spiritual cancer of distrust, the asakku are the demonic incarnations of suspicion and strife. According to certain scholars, asakku are some of the most recent demons spawned by The Abyss in its unconscious attempt to corrupt Creation. Despite their comparative age, these demons have so successfully spread discord and destruction that among many mortal nations and faiths, asakku have become synonymous with demonic possession and the zhedin. Considering how both the ekimmu and rabissu predate asakku, the infamy of this new demonic race is all the more impressive-and terrifying. While most scholars believe asakku spawn exclusively inside The Abyss like other zhedin, scattered reports allege that some asakku have arisen within the Mortal Coil, created in communities ravaged by their abyssal-birthed kin. However, critics of this theory dismiss such reports. They explain that it is easy to confuse the appearance of asakku being born from mortals with multiple asakku hunting down the same host, or hosts, for their own perverse purposes. Although endowed with an independent measure of destructive prowess, asakku generally prefer possessing mortals over direct violence, as the former method allows them to simultaneously ruin both their hosts and the communities in which they live. Based upon their instinctive knowledge of the sentiments that birthed them, these demons possess an uncanny ability to identify the most trusted or innocent beings within a community, targeting such prey above all others. In most cases, the initial victims are children or community elders. From this initial foray into a community's life, asakku then worm themselves into doing further damage through working their way close to much better and more powerful targets, such as any spellcasters within a community. The best and the most difficult targets along these lines for an asakku's subversion are divine spellcasters. Out of potential hosts, they are often associated with communal stability and are the most likely and capable to exorcise demonic possession. Once an asakku has lodged itself in the mind of its final target, it then uses every possible means of utterly destroying a community

from within. This can include manipulating its host to commit brutal murders, episodes of arson, or acts of lethal terror. However, in those circumstances when doing such would be insufficient to cause massive distrust and instability, they can instead cause minor disasters or social disruptions which they can then proceed to exacerbate. Even when an asakku is caught, a victimized community often continues to suffer from asakku predation, as these fiends relish abandoning their hosts to face the consequences of their demonic-induced actions while the asakku possess new victims previously weakened by their depredations. Unique among those demons who specialize in possession, asakku are considered extremely useful to demons of greater power than themselves. Many atrocities, demon lords, and demon princes use those asakku that they can either bend to their will or force into serving them as enforcers against those who either fall away from their service or serve rivals through possessing their loved ones or innocent beings. Because mortals are often not the best combatants in The Blood War, they find comparatively little use on the front lines of battle as asakku-host pairings. However, in the more subtle forms of combat between the demons of The Abyss and the rest of Creation, asakku are tremendously gainful to those that can manipulate them, as a single asakku in several months' time can easily rip an entire community apart through judicious use of its possession ability, destructive prowess, and its other powers to spark mistrust and loathing between the living. Other more powerful demons use asakku as bounty hunters, possessing those that may have initially escaped from The Abyss and dragging them back for even more horrific punishment. In terms of their personalities, asakku are stubborn, deceptive, intelligent, and vengeful. They hold grudges for exceptionally long periods-especially against other demons. While asakku are incapable of possessing other denizens of The Abyss, they have no such compunctions or limitations against possessing half-fiends. Many demons that have opted to use either voluntary or forced offspring in order to try and increase their own presence upon The Mortal Coil discover previously slighted asakku to be persistent and vicious foes. Asakku are just as hostile towards each other as they are to other beings, and in certain situations, multiple asakku have been known to vie for the power to possess the same mortal. In such situations, these poor hosts often lose their sanity from having so many vile personages competing over their minds and souls. An asakku appears as a six-foot long serpent with articulated black and green scales and spikes pointed backwards. Wiry and thin, their bodies seem not to slither so much as glide through the air. Although its head is scaled much like its body, an asakku's face appears vaguely feline and possess yellowed, unblinking eyes. When an asakku speaks in its true voice as opposed to that of its current victim, it sounds like the voice of a child, yet the words that come out of its mouth are anything but innocent-and are often

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the exact opposite of such. Combat: Asakku prefer to prey upon the weak. Consequently, these demons often target children as an easy means of both infiltrating and persisting within a community, as the sadistic fiends realize that good-aligned beings are particularly unwilling to harm, much less kill, a child, possessed or not. Generally, they prefer to get others to do their work for them. Asakku accomplish this through Fevered Imaginings combined with casting morality undone in order to turn opponents against each other and forcing foes to fight through walls of previously innocent beings or even better, former allies. If an asakku is cornered, it will teleport away as quickly as possible and scheme for vengeance against whoever defeated it. In circumstances where it cannot immediately escape along these lines, it will use wall of fire and deeper darkness to slither away quickly or passwall itself away from those foes that could kill it. Abilities Str 16, Dex 24, Con 18, Int 18, Wis 18, Cha 24 SQ Exorcist's Bane Feats Ability Focus (Possess Mortal), Dodge, Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Multiattack, Rapid Strike (sting), Skill Focus (Sense Motive), Spell Focus (Enchantment) Skills Acrobatics +26, Bluff +26, Climb +22, Diplomacy +26, Disguise +26, Escape Artist +26, Intimidate +26, Knowledge (religion) +23, Linguistics +23, Perception +23, Sense Motive +26, Stealth +26 ______________________________________________ Organization Solitary or Misery (Asakku and Host) Environment The 666 Torments of The Abyss Advancement 16-32 HD (Medium) ______________________________________________ Convulse (Su): An asakku that has possessed a victim may choose to convulse it as a standard action. A convulsed mortal enters into violent, painful spasms which deal 2d8 points of damage to the asakku's host, with no save allowed. However, the true power of the convulsions comes not from the harm that is done to the host, but to those beings that hear the constant stream of spiteful expletives and insults that the possessed mortal screams in its agony. Any being within 30 feet that listens to a convulsed victim must make an initial Will save DC 25 in order to avoid attacking the host of the asakku with the nearest improvised or actual weapons during the first round. Each round afterwards, those who remain within this radius must continue to make an additional Will save in order to avoid taking a -1 penalty against the asakku's other attacks as their power to resist the asakku is slowly eroded. The saving throw DC is Charisma-based, and this is a mind-affecting sonic effect. Exorcist's Bane (Ex): Asakku are stubbornly resistant to most attempts to evict them from a host -especially when such attempts come from good-aligned beings. Accordingly, an asakku's power over its hosts exists in the following ways: First, an asakku possesses a profane bonus to its spell resistance and Will saves against spells and special abilities intended to exorcise it from a given host. This bonus increases by +1 per every four HD that an asakku advances. Second, an asakku can focus all of the feelings that spawned it against a single being that is attempting to exorcise them. When this occurs, an exorcist must make a Ref save DC 25 or else catch on fire, taking 1d8 points of fire damage for every 2 HD of the asakku. However, doing so weakens the asakku itself, causing it to be exhausted and take an additional -1 penalty to its own saves for the rest of the day after each attempt. Penalties to an asakku's saves along these lines are cumulative. Fevered Imaginings (Su): Asakku do far more than incarnate hatred and mistrust between mortals. In a number of ways, they literally radiate these negative sentiments in

Asakku (CR 16)

CE Medium Outsider (Chaotic, Evil, Extraplanar, Maleidolon) Init +11; Senses darkvision 120 ft., Perception +23 Aura Fevered Imaginings (30 ft.) Languages Abyssal, Common, telepathy (100 ft.) ______________________________________________ AC 29 (+12 natural, +7 Dex), touch 17, flat-footed 22; Dodge hp 136 (16d8 +64); DR 15/silver and good Immune cold, electricity, fire, poison Resist acid 20; SR 24 Fort +14, Ref +17, Will +16; Exorcist's Bane (+4 profane bonus against Exorcism) ______________________________________________ Speed 40 ft. (8 squares), climb 40 ft. Melee bite +19 (2d6 + 3) and sting +17/+12 (1d8 + 1 and poison) Melee +19 touch Ranged +23 touch Base Atk +16; CMB +19 Atk Options poison Special Actions Convulse, Exorcist's Bane, Fevered Imaginings, Possess Mortal, Seed of Emnity ______________________________________________ Spell-like Abilities (CL 16th) At will-cyclonic blastSC (DC 22), deeper darkness, greater dispel magic, levitate (self only), hold monster (DC 23), modify memory (host only) (DC 22), passwall, persistent image, suggestion (DC 21), telekinesis, greater teleport (self and host), tremorsSC (DC 20), vipergoutSC, wall of fire (DC 21). 3/day-animate objects, blasphemy (DC 24), dread wordBoVD (DC 20), morality undoneBoVD (DC 23), phantasmal killer (DC 21), probe thoughts (DC 23). 1/day-bestow greater curseSC (DC 25), dream castingSC (DC 23), spread of savageryBoVD (DC 27). ______________________________________________

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a 60 foot radius around them. Most beings around an asakku experience this as a slightly heated feeling, a sensation that the air that they breathe is actually hotter than it really is even if it is actually cold, or the first flush of rage and anger at being grossly offended. Individuals that have previously taken a hostile action (either through making an attempted physical attack, or through casting a hostile spell) within the area affected must make a Will save DC 25, or else express every shred of the hidden mistrust and loathing within their hearts against their previous target. This forces them to focus entirely on slaughtering the being they have already attacked to exclusion of all other taskings and doing whatever it takes in order to slaughter them, taking a -1 cumulative profane penalty to their Will saves against the asakku's other powers each round they give in to their rage. Preventing a victim of an asakku's Fevered Imaginings from actually killing or attempting to injure their given target breaks this aspect of the asakku's power over them and causes the penalties to disappear. Poison (Su): An asakku injects hateful bile into the wounds that it deals with its stinger, forcing those stung to make a Fort save DC 25 or else take 1d6 points of Wisdom damage as primary damage and 1d6 points of Wisdom damage as secondary damage 1 minute later. Possess Mortal (Su): As a full round action, an asakku that is immediately adjacent to a potential victim (within 5 feet) can attempt to possess it, forcing it to make a Will save DC 25. Failing the Will save allows the asakku to either slither up the victim's body and crawl within its head through an orifice, or leap from the body of a previous victim and into its next target. For the purposes of determining whether a mortal can be targetted, half-fiends or other beings of half outsider origin are considered to be vulnerable, although the attempted possession of any single creature can only be tried once a day. Possessed victims do not necessarily know that they are possessed, and most asakku make a point out of immediately modifying the memory of their victims until they are ready to reveal themselves in one form or another inside the victim's mind. Furthermore, asakku within hosts have full access to their memories and class features, while still being able to use their spell-like abilities, Fevered Imaginings, and Seed of Emnity attacks. Mortals possessed by asakku appear otherwise normal, do not detect as evil, and can cross protective barriers against evil creatures such as protection from evil and magic circle against evil upon a successful caster level check using the asakku's HD as a caster level. If a being is already possessed, an asakku can spend a full-round action to challenge possession of the mortal. If the asakku succeeds in its challenge, it can either exorcise its rival or share the host with another asakku, although every additional asakku that attempts to share the same being causes the afflicted host to take 1d6 points of Wisdom drain per day. Whenever an asakku competes for possession of a mortal, the original possessing fiend or entity must make a Will save DC 25. The saving throw

DC is Charisma-based, and what occurs to the defeated entity depends on its nature. Outsiders or spellcasters using spells such as magic jar that are evicted along these lines are shoved outside of the host and are so overwhelmed by the sheer evil of the asakku that they must make a Will save DC 25 or else take 1d4 points of Wisdom and Charisma drain immediately. Evicted undead materialize (in ethereal form if naturally ethereal) in one of the squares adjacent to the asakku's host. If the attempt to evict a previous possessor fails, then the attempted challenger is forced out and takes the ability drain accordingly themselves. Seed of Emnity (Su): 1/day, an asakku can implant a Seed of Emnity into the mind of a being aside from its current host. Targeted victims become slowly, but increasingly, hostile towards those who previously were their closest associates. Each time a being affected by this ability gets within 30 feet of one of its former friends, the tainted individual must make a Will save DC 25 or immediately blurt out its mistrust against its former friend. Each time they give in, they take a -1 penalty on their Will saves against the asakku should they encounter them later, whether directly or within a host, and furthermore are treated as one step less friendly in terms of diplomacy checks towards that same being. Upon becoming Hostile, an affected creature must make another Will save against the asakku's Seed of Emnity ability or immediately attack the previous friend with the intention of killing its past ally. Should a victim of a Seed of Emnity kill their former associate, the asakku immediately becomes aware of the murderer's location and may opt to either greater teleport or planeshift to the affected creature. Upon doing so, the asakku can immediately attempt to possess the mortal. A Seed of Emnity is never visible, but it can be removed with the successful casting of a heal spell upon the victim before it has managed to completely destroy the afflicted creature. Otherwise, a Seed of Emnity dies on its own within a host after six days.

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