The Order of Everything

This is the first installment in what I hope will be a interesting serial recounting a baatezu's trials amidst the Blood Wars.

The first of the ladders came crashing down upon the wall of the cyclopean fortress to be followed by countless others, all bearing the squat barbazu who served as shock troops for the hells.  The bearded devils surged forward to punch holes into the tanar'ri defense using their cruel, cold iron glaives with deadly skill.  The demons, mostly mindless dretch, fought back with equal intensity as hundreds rushed along the ramparts to throw themselves tooth and nail at the baatezu.  The battle atop the ramparts raged hotly for a short time with the vicious barbazu making steady progress despite their lesser numbers then with ear piercing screams, legions of battle crazed vrocks descended from the sky to tear into the devil's ranks.  Claws tore and beaks slashed casting disciplined ranks of the baatezu into chaos and sending many of the crude ladders back down into the fire and smoke below.

The hamatula watched from its post near the outer perimeter of the massive baatezu army, it had seen the give and take of such battles countless times before and had not long back been a defender upon those walls himself before the current occupants had managed to oust the forces of Lord Dagos through sheer force of numbers.  Such was the way of the Blood Wars, what was held one day would be lost the next.

A cry of dismay rose from the defenders as a flight of erinye engaged the vrocks in the air wielding gleaming swords and lengths of rope which they hacked and strangled with to amazing effect.  Again the battle appeared to have evened out as both side attempted to regroup for another push.

The origins of the fortress were lost in memory to all but perhaps the yugoloths who called the four-fold furnace of Gehenna home.  A land of volcanic eruptions and sulfuric clouds, Khalas constituted the highest of the four plane-spanning peaks and as such came closest to the Nine Hells thus making control of the keep essential to both sides.  The native yugoloths seemed content to allow the wanton destruction to continue provided both sides met their price, such was their mercenary mind. 

To anyone watching the lone sentry, it would have appeared that he had little interest in the proceeding taking place on the volcanic slopes.  He seemed entranced by a bit of dancing flame which rested in his thorny palm.  Looks though, were often deceiving with the barbed devils for their vigilance never ceased.  Even as Maal, for that was his name, stared intently into the the fire he tracked every advance and retreat, every stone that rolled towards his post, every cloud that crossed over his vicinity.  Only a fool tried to pass the hamatula undetected and they were never given a second opportunity at such folly.

Explosions echoed off the highest peaks as a series of  meteors came crashing down upon the eastern gate-house reducing the mighty doors to so much rubble.  Maal actually raised his head to follow the source of the devastation and was surprised to see emerging from the smoke and fire, the awe-inspiring form of a pit fiend.  The lords of the battlefield, armies fled before their presence.  Squinting to peer through the distant fog of war, Maal tried to discern just whom it was that had been sent to speed matters along.  The pit fiend stood some twelve feet in height with vast leathery wings and a powerful body wrapped in fire and darkness.  It roared with rage as it drove the legions of lemures before it.  Mighty Xer’xes it was whom waded through the fodder, wings outstretched and a rune carven great-sword raised in one fell hand whilst the other clenched ebon flames.   Xer’xes was a powerful servant to Lord Dagos, whom it seemed, wished to supper within the fortress that night.

The demons were not yet ready to withdraw from their hold so easily; as drone-like lemures advanced upon the shattered gatehouse they were met by equally mindless dretch whose hordes were driven forward by sadistic fly-like chasme.  Then a hush fell over the tanar’ri defenders and a great shadow fell over the field of battle, even mighty Xer’xes paused and his fiery brow furrowed in irritation.  The mob of dretch parted and the chasme drew up as a towering figure of flame and chaos strode from the ruins.  He was chaos incarnate, the embodiment of cruelty for it's own sake.  A flaming sword he bore in one hand and a flail in the other, he was of a height with the pit fiend and like Xer’xes he was wreathed in fiery armour.  This was their answer, they had summoned a balor.

His bestial visage bore down directly upon the pit fiend and the force of wills that clashed could be felt by both armies as they silently grappled with one another for supremacy.  They were evenly matched, both knew nothing of fear or weakness only domination and power.  Time seemed to stand still as all waited to see what the outcome would be.  It was the balor who suddenly roared and shook his gaze from the other in frustration.  The ranks of the baatezu cast loud jeers at their enemy and leapt forward to the attack with more fervor then before as they sensed a victory close at hand.  Balor and pit fiend cut a swathe of destruction behind them as they made for one another to finish what had been started.  Their blades sang a grim song as they clanged together, one red-hot the other as dark as night.  Back and forth the battle raged with neither seemingly able to gain the advantage.  Both bled from many deep wounds yet pride kept them going for they could not afford a loss before their hosts.  This could have lasted days before either made a decisive blow yet in a attempt to deliver a overhead cleave the pit fiend left his side vulnerable and the balor wasted no time in exploiting the error.  His flail wrapped its chains about the bicep of Xer’xes left arm while his sword thrust forward towards the exposed ribs.  Miraculously the blade never pierced its intended target, instead finding itself buried halfway to the hilt in the forearm of its victim.  Showing both fortitude and genius, Xer’xes had succeeded in his feint and now had his enemies weapons trapped, albeit in himself.  Shuddering in pain, Xer’xes managed to bring down the pommel of his sword upon the cranium of the balor with such force that he shattered the other’s skull and drove him to his knees.  Staggering back from his fallen antagonist, the other’s sword still embedded in one arm, the pit fiend again raised his blade and smote the tanar’ri a blow that sent its gruesome head back into the countless dretch who now broke in all directions!

Thus the battle ended with the tanar’ri defense broken and the baatezu tearing apart all they could find.  Maal showed no outward signs of exuberance; he had witnessed such scenes all too often before and would see them again.  The great pit fiends did not always best the terrible balors and the devils did not always rout the demons yet such was how it had worked out for this day and Maal was content to keep his watch from within the castle’s halls until the order of things dictated otherwise.