We have all felt power at one point or another in our lives. We have all
felt the touch of one vastly superior to ourselves; we have all cowered the face
of insurmountable might, or reveled in the thrill of proximity to forces we can
only imagine. In my younger days – though I can hardly be counted old enough
for the memory to have dimmed – I had not yet seen such power, though with the
naiveté of a teen I desired it for myself. No, my first time coming close to
such awe-inspiring power, my first time feeling that unique mix of fear and
exhilaration, was when I first stepped out of the Basin and into the Mists of
Nil.
For three years prior I had been intensely focused on my studies. I had
wandered the realms extensively, seeking out creatures great and small upon
which to test my combat skills. I had traveled the tainted plane of Elemental
Earth, slaying hundreds of the mutated grubs which lurk there, twisted by a
diet of the dark essence so plentiful in that realm. I had roamed the winding
paths and darkened clearings of the Glomdoring Forest, uncovering and battling
each and every warped creature that snapped the twigs and rustled the brush in
that eerie but fascinating wood. I had prayed time and time again for the
power of the Demon Lords, and they had granted me some control over my own
body, as well as the service of a fiend; however, this did not satisfy me. I
needed true power, and the only way to gain that was to travel to the one plane
of existence upon which I had never lingered: the Cosmic Plane of Nil.
In my time among the Nihilists, the philosophy I had most closely
followed was that espouses by Kaervas d'Murani, the guild Champion, who then
called himself Kaervas Arthardar. It was called the Church of Wrath, in the
service of Lord Ashtorath, and it virtues were strength, of both body and mind,
and the ability to channel one's anger to a higher purpose. Kaervas, however,
refused to personally accept my offer of service; the one to whom I owed
fealty, he said, was Lord Ashtorath.
So it was with this goal in mind that I stepped through the Megalith of
Doom and into the Mists of Nil. Around my feet imps cavorted, their sharp
teeth grinning with malicious intent, but a glare from me sent them scuttling
back into the shadows; I was more than capable of dealing with their ilk.
Seductive fiends eyed me speculatively from the corner of my vision, but I paid
them no mind. Some of the demons who stood aloof gazed at me suspiciously as I
made my way past, and every so often I caught a glimpse of something mightier
still, lurking just out of my sight and causing even my hardened nerves to stir
slightly. However, nothing troubled me as I made my way to the lair of Lord
Ashtorath.
Finally I stood outside the Pit of Inescapable Damnation. An impressive
sight it was, too; for here the tainted earth was rent apart by a chasm perhaps
twenty feet across, and filled with roaring flames. I could not estimate its
depth, so thick was the fire, so I called upon my skills and felt the familiar
flare of pain in my shoulder blades as a pair of batlike wings sprung forth. I
had grown used to such pain, and worse, so without hesitating I leapt into the
air and dove through the fire and towards the muffled howling I could hear
echoing from within. The ground approached me quickly, and I landed somewhat
hastily, unable to find my footing in time. The flames that lined the entrance
to the Pit now licked harshly at my clothing and skin, but fire even then held
attraction for me, rather than fear; and so, emboldened by the ease of my
entry, I stood and gazed confidently at my surroundings.
I was not ready for what I saw.
A veritable chorus of demonic creatures howled and chanted in that
awesome pit; imps, fiends, demons and even the fearsome Archdemons, seen now in
their full glory, raised their voices in adulation. Before that day, this sight
alone would have been sufficient to fill me with awe; however, that was not what
now sent me to my knees and tore a fervent prayer from my lips. No, it was the
sight of Lord Ashtorath himself.
Shall I attempt to describe him physically? No, it would be a waste of
words, for it was not his physical shell, glorious though it was, which struck
me temporarily dumb. It was his raw presence, his sheer, exuberant power. He
was a terrifying whirlwind of roaring flames and thrashing limbs, transformed
by his endless rage into something more than a demon, something closer to a
pure, unchecked force. At his feet lay the corpses of several angels from
Celestia, their wings broken, their inner light dimmed. One of his two great
hands came down upon the pile of seraphic corpses, and as I watched he dangled
one over his great maw for a moment before consuming it whole. Then his
deafening roar of anger began again, and he lay into his demonic followers with
a fury that caused them to shriek in delight even as the fell to blows of his
mighty fists. Finally my ecstatic prayers reached his ears, and he turned his
burning eyes upon me and I felt his hot breath upon my sweat-slicked brow.
This, I knew, was my only chance to survive this day. I channeled all
the power I had been granted by the mighty Magnagora directly into Ashtorath's
frame, and shouted as loud as I could, "To Ashtorath, I pledge soul and
service."
For just a moment, all noise in the room stopped. Even Lord Ashtorath's
ceaseless roaring went momentarily silent as he absorbed this small gift, and
then he reared back to his full height. Without looking he swept one hand
behind him and brought forth a demon, which he placed beside me and, without
effort, forced onto its knees. "VERY WELL, ASHAR," he boomed. "BUT SEE THAT
YOU DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME. THOSE THINGS OF MINE WHICH DISPLEASE ME…" He paused
for a moment, raised one foot and brought it down on the mutilated angels.
"…DIE." Then he turned his back to me once more, and the chorus of demons
shrieked my name once before being drowned out again by the roar of Lord
Ashtorath.
Seeing that he had finished with me, I summoned my strength and leapt
into the air and out of the Pit. In my exhilaration I did not even pause to
douse the flames which again covered me until I reached the Megalith, looming
like a beacon out of the Mists. There I fell to my knees, panting with
exhaustion is my excited energy left me all at once. Summoning the last of it,
I reached out and touched the Megalith, and as my surroundings blurred and
became the Necropolis of Magnagora, I collapsed completely, and slept a deep
and dreamless sleep.
It has been more than half a decade since I last looked upon the face of
Lord Ashtorath, but his visage is etched indelibly on my memory. I have learned
much in those few years, and the power of all five Demon Lords now possesses me,
but I have never forgotten the one to whom I made my first, and most important
pact: Ashtorath.