Outer

~Pandemonium, Day 15~

It's like the wind knows who I am, who all of us are. And these pale men and women we kill, these packs with their pale bodies given hints of amphibian things - their frog smiles tell us they know too.

I hate it here. It's like all my thoughts are on the outside, like I'm traveling through the cavernous expanse of what I keep so deep I don't ever have to look at it.

The first war was begun by the first of the fiends. On leathery wings they rose from their first home in the Gray Waste, dripping gore and spiritual slime, hungry as only a new-hatched thing can be. They rose to devour the Upper Planes, which were then uninhabited by anything corporeal.

The worship of Slavic powers has been in decline for several centuries now. On many Prime Material Worlds their followers have converted to other religions, often monotheistic ones – it is known that the pantheon has been pushed out of least three worlds by Taiia the Maker only. That is why the Slavic powers are always on the lookout for young civilizations, unsophisticated, unclaimed by more powerful gods, and easily impressed.

The original worshipers of this pantheon are said to be civilized folk who nonetheless occasionally indulge in barbarism. They've established dynasties and traditions that put most cultures to shame, and expect other mortals to recognize this. Still, they do know how to adapt, and that's one of the reasons why their ancient powers still exist on the planes - at least that's the chant. It could be that, even as they mold themselves to common thought, they are also molding the common thought to their dreams.