Two corpses, one of a woman and the other a skull-masked man, stood impaled and amalgamated in a hydra-like shape—a gruesome fleshcrafted form, directly outside the frost fortress of the Black Church. Their bodies had been butchered, shredded apart, and partially devoured by lesser undead, zombies that feasted upon their rotting flesh while spiders burrowed into their bones. Carved into their foreheads was a crude eye of blood, their tarnished faces frozen in expressions of sheer horror. Furthermore, behind them, abyssal flames roared as though an abyssal inferno of dread dared all to gaze upon this bloodshed.

Before the corpses, a sign had been sunken into the snowy ground, crafted from bones and severed limbs of the fallen. Organs and blood had been used to scrawl a single message in gore:

"There is honor amongst the wicked. Death to betrayers."

There was, Igarashi Jorogumo, the Spider—a villain infamous for her curses. Once, she reveled in godlike pride, feeling grand and invincible as an empress holding the cosmos in her hands. Her strength was undeniable, her ambitions supported by a horde that followed her every command. She believed herself untouchable. But as years passed, madness crept into her mind like a disease, spreading to her heart like a living tumor. One by one, she lost everything and everyone dear to her. Despite her overwhelming arrogance, she began to see through it. She realized her empire had crumbled, leaving behind only emptiness. The void surrounded her—no allies, no comrades to ease her sorrow, only the gnawing curse of decay consuming her very essence.

She clawed at her head with trembling, dull talons, gripping the colorful silks of her jester’s mask. Blood dripped as her jagged teeth released fractured cackles and whispered cries. Alas, her father, her twin, her master, her most loyal subject—all lost, victims of her weakness. Now, even her last disciple sought to betray her, determined to destroy the twisted legacy she had built with her own hands. He who practiced a false god. He who wants to take over. What a tragedy.

“Everyone… they all want to take everything and everyone from me. ALL OF THEM, ONE BY ONE! WHERE IS HONOR AMONG THE WICKED? WHY IS EVERYONE SO FOOLISH? DON’T THEY KNOW WHO I AM?!”

Who was she? A simple question, yet one with a hurtful answer. She was no one—just a mad hag, a clown lost in delusions. This truth began to dawn on her, but as the searing sorrow consumed her being, she struggled to grasp it fully. In this instance, mortal emotions were foreign to her dark, twisted mind due to deriving from a more mundane dilemma. Furthermore, pain and sadness stabbed at her with a crude lunge, yet their purpose remained elusive to her. Her unholy weaving arts had severed her from embracing her mortal side and understanding it, leaving her trapped in a horrific state of confusion, living between two worlds—one of life and one of death as if she could feel the pain but could not locate the wound. A cruel, haunting torture.

“They don’t understand,” she muttered, her voice trembling. “They don’t know who I am. I can’t be forgotten. I won’t be forgotten. Help, please… PLEASE! DO NOT LEAVE!”

The once-agonized roars faded, giving way to hushed, broken whimpers—like those of a lost child. Her bloodied fingers, torn and trembling, clutched her own foul flesh in a desperate embrace. She sought solace in herself, the only source of comfort left in a cruel world, with a cursed body, and a fractured mind. In her isolation, one truth remained: she was her own constant, her only loyal companion, incapable of betraying herself.

Yet her torment was far from over. For now, she lingered in that dark void, alone and forgotten, with only the hollow promise of rising again and tunes of maddened laughs.

"KAKAKAHAHAHA! KEHEEHAHAH!!"

This time, there was no hope for the Wretched.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

In the cold northern lands, a fierce battle of flames and decay unfolded. Holy warriors clashed with dark forces, fighting over the cursed fortress of the Black Pontiff.  However, this time, amongst the defenders stood a well-known figure: Igarashi Jorogumo, leader of the Kuruibi horde, an arch-necromancer, and renowned for her curses. She loomed over the chaos upon a tower, her undead minions swarming around her, screeching and yelling. At first, Jorogumo spent her time mocking both allies and enemies, throwing out taunts and maddened remarks. But then, her sharp eyes caught something—a figure among the enemy ranks. An Azdrazi, one of the ancient dragon warriors of god-king Azdromoth, was there, standing against them. 

Her mind sparked with excitement, her eyes widening as battle frenzy took over. She began to cast a spell, imbuing the corpse of a rat with life force. The carcass swelled grotesquely as it absorbed power. But soon, her gaze was drawn higher. The Azdrazi transformed, taking on a draconic form. Its pale scales gleamed, and massive wings stretched wide, claiming the sky as its own. Flames and embers dripped from its jaws, lighting up the shadowy tundra. Jorogumo’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, eager for the fight to come.

“DRAGON WARRIOR, COME FORTH! I, IGARASHI JOROGUMO SHALL WAIT FOR YOU!”

The dragon climbed atop the tower, its claws crushing the stone beneath them as it ascended. From its maw came a torrent of flames, sweeping over the fortress and melting snow and stone alike. Jorogumo quickly commanded her undead minions to raise their shields, but one unfortunate soldier was caught in the blaze and reduced to ashes. Still, Jorogumo kept her wits about her, using clever tactics to survive. Protected by her sturdy flesh golem, she avoided the worst of the attack, but she was forced to keep moving to avoid being cornered. 

The rat she had imbued with life force earlier was now ready. Without hesitation, she hurled the swollen creature at the dragon. As it reached its target, BOOOOOOOOM, the rat exploded in a burst of dark energy, sending a black haze into the air. Splintered bones and gore pierced the dragon’s pale scales, injuring it and forcing its head and body to recoil from the tower. The sudden blast halted the stream of dragon flame, giving Jorogumo a moment to gather her thoughts. Alas, the Azdrazi was far from defeated. The daughter of Azdromoth rose again, its wrath undiminished. Resilient and fierce, it refused to fall. Jorogumo, though wicked and chaotic, found herself admiring that strength for she had a slight crumb of honor. Furthermore, with a wild grin and a maddened spark in her eyes, Jorogumo climbed higher, shouting with exhilaration. Her voice rang out with that thirst for a fight, of challenging someone stronger than herself.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

“OH, DAUGHTER OF AZDROMOTH, DRAGON WARRIOR! YOU’RE STRONG. YOUR FATHER WOULD BE PROUD OF YOU! TOUGH AS MOUNTAIN!”

The hag folded her arms, a satisfied smile creeping across her face after giving the compliment. She had always longed to fight a dragon, to honor her ancestors who had once fought such beasts in ancient legends. All in all, while the witches and warlocks might have insulted the Azdrazi to continue calling it a traitor, the hag did not share their disdain. Instead, she sought to stir the Azdrazi’s fighting spirit, to draw out the thrill of battle from such a worthy opponent. Moreover, the fight raged on. At her command, the flesh golem leaped into the air, climbing onto the pale dragon as it took to the sky. The two titanic creatures brought their battle higher, smashing through ice and stone as they clashed. But in a twist, the flesh golem let out a piercing cry—“^KRAAAAAAAAAA KRAAAAAAAA”—and tore into the dragon's wing. The scaly appendage was ripped apart, collapsing and burning on the snowy ground below.

However, victory was short-lived for the flesh golem. The dragon slammed the golem against the fortress wall with tremendous force, and its accursed frame sputtered and died as it crashed to the ground, battered and broken The Azdrazi, wounded but not defeated, returned to its humanoid form. It glared at the crawling flesh golem, which continued to move with undying fury. Its body was a mess of gore and bones with a spider-like skull and the faces of children, elders, and innocents across its fame crying out for mercy, seemed unstoppable in its desire to fulfill its necromancer's orders. Despite the cries of the trapped faces that pleaded death and aid, it only had one purpose: to kill.

But the wounded Azdrazi, determined and driven, crushed the golem's skull with a heavy strike from its hammer, ending the threat. With the golem defeated, it turned to rescue its allies who had been trapped. Melted bears would offer an escape route for its allies who were getting overwhelmed.

“KAKAKAKA! I AM ON MY WAY, DRAGON WARRIOR! YOU ARE INDEED  WORTHY OF ME, NO DOUBT! WE SHALL BECOME RIVALS! KAKAKAKAKA!”

As the clash of steel and blood of battle filled the air, the hag worked in secret, preparing a spell that pulsed with a voidal source. An orange aura stretched from her body in ghostly tendrils, eldritch and menacing. The heat around her swirled, oppressive and unnatural. She drew her hand back as though pulling an invisible arrow from an unseen bow. The spell demanded immense focus, draining her energy with every passing moment. For a brief second, she faltered, feeling the weight of exhaustion threatening to consume her own life.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Then he appeared.

THE BLACK PONTIFF.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

"FOR IBLEES! BRING ME NOHR."

The eye of Iblees made his presence known, and the land itself recoiled in response. Snow turned black, the grass withered and burned, and the air filled with the roars of demons and the crackle of infernal flames. His arrival reinvigorated the hag, her determination reigniting like a blazing torch. Whilst his aura of dread made his foes flee, all of the unholy forces stepped aside for his wicked entrance.

"RAISE FOR THE BLACK PONTIFF! RAISE FOR IBLEES! CHAOS UNTO ALL!"

“FALL!”

The voidal energies coalesced at her fingertips, forming a flaming arrow imbued with a combustive force. Her two fingers steadied the crackling, searing projectile as it hovered for but a moment before being launched forward with blistering speed. The fiery arrow shot across the battlefield, indifferent to friend or foe, carrying one purpose: chaos It struck the Azdrazi squarely on the face, FWOOOSH, exploding in a blazing inferno that engulfed the area. The sheer force of the blast pushed everyone away, sending combatants sprawling in a wave of heat and destruction. Flames licked the ruined ground, and confusion reigned as chaos consumed all in its path. Even frost witches, dark shamans, or warlocks were affected by the hag’s onslaught, screeching curses at her.

On that day, it felt as if Iblees himself had smiled upon the hag. She became a whirlwind of terror, wreaking havoc across the battlefield with a bloody lawless approach. Nevertheless, the so-called gooders scattered, retreating from the scorched ground, their hope crumbling amidst the forces of Iblees. Yet, standing firm among the fleeing forces was that same Azdrazi, a steadfast wall protecting its allies regardless of one's wound. That sight only drove Igarashi Jorogumo deeper into the madness of war. She was so jealous of the Azdrazi's will. No matter...

Where most necromancers would falter or flee after losing their minions, Jorogumo did not. She screamed, her voice emanating a war cry of challenge. She leaped down from her position to STAND in front of the Azdrazi.

“FIGHT ME, DRAGON WARRIOR! BE THE ONE TO KILL ME!”

Fueled by her need for conflict, she chased after the group, her sole focus fixed on the Azdrazi. But this dragon warrior was no ordinary foe—quick, powerful, and cunning, it dodged her attacks with ease, moving deftly to evade her wrath. Jorogumo could only draw near thanks to the intervention of the Black Pontiff. Chanting a dark prayer, he unleashed bolts of black lightning that bestowed terrible visions upon the Azdrazi and slowed its steps.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“YOU WILL NOT RUN AWAY FROM ME! YOU MUST NOT FORGET MY NAME! GIVE ME A BATTLE!!!“

“KRAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

In a moment of utter wilderness, she scratched at her skin, tearing it, and then lunged forward, her sharpless claws bared and her staff ready to strike. The sight of her jumping was horrific as she acted akin to a mindless zombie; a creature of pure malice seeking to drag down her prey. Yet the Azdrazi, even when hindered by the Pontiff’s spell, remained vigilant. Hearing her maddened cries, it sidestepped at the last moment, breaking free of the cursed visions with its own sheer mind and power.

Jorogumo’s eyes widened in shock as the Azdrazi’s hammer descended. She tried to parry with her staff, but the blow shattered it; the blunted relic went through and slammed into her shoulder with bone-crushing force. The impact sent her flying through the air, her body battered and broken. As she soared skyward, the world fading into darkness from her view, Jorogumo whispered faintly, her voice trembling with bitter respect.

“I will remember you, Nohr, Daughter of Azdromoth. Dragon warrior. My rival.”

Her final words carried through the chaos, fading into the void as her eyes closed.

“Nohr… You are no traitor.”

Gut Bucket

[!] Letters go across Aevos
 

Come get tasty food, FOR YOUR SOUL!!!!

Sincerly, The Legion of Iblees

[!] The following contents are found only on an Ice Wall in the cavern of Frost Witches.

To know of it without access inside or getting inside, is Metagaming.

You want cool weapons? Go earn it.

Grand Prize


How to Earn: Impress me. Do something amazing.

Second and Third Place:



How to Earn: Help a Warlock or Necromancer turn a Monarch similar into a Ghoul or Demon.

 

LET THE GAMES BEGIN
 

Infernal Word of the Day:  Naakh
: A gift.

Ironic because this is also the name of the tool that Dark Shamans use to use to draw on the powers of their enslaved spirits.

Sincerly, The Left and Right Arm. Kiel Vukuduah.