Appearance

Vretchka is an impossibly large and bloated insect, not dissimilar to that of a common plague locust. Her pale gray abdomen is so grossly distended that it rises above the tall treetops of her jungle domain, and is festooned with thousands upon thousands of slime-coated birthing sacks. Each sack contains the gestating form of a new demonic insect, which are allowed to grow and feast upon her constantly-regenerating flesh until they are ready to join their brethren in the black skies above.  Her colors change as one moves up along her disgusting form, shifting from grey to a shade of vomit as it reaches her hollow, needle-like ovipositor. Two gossamer wings extend from the shoulders upon her thorax, but they have long-since atrophied from a lack of use. Even if she wanted to fly, it is doubtful that she could as they are but a third of their former size. Her front four legs have since been crushed into a broken mess of flesh and bone under her obese bulk, while her back saltatorial legs have fared little better. Indeed, so massive and overgrown is her bulk that movement is all but impossible for her. At best, with great effort she can shift her bulk around once every decade or so to make herself more comfortable. The only part of her form that she can still move with any sort of agility or grace is the long, slender needle-like appendage that in dim light might be mistaken for an ovipositor. Vretchka favours using it to lash out and impale any who might dare to get close to her, before dropping their still-living bodies into her ever-hungry mouth.

Extremely long prehensile tentacles hang off of her chin, each one more than capable of acting as an appendage should she need one. Two large multifaceted orbs sit on either side of her head, right below an impressive set of curled demonic horns. It is said that her compound eyes can see past any attempt to deceive her with magic. Perhaps the only other manner in which her head differed from that of an ordinary locust is her all-too-humanoid mouth. Complete with lips, sharp teeth, and a blackened tongue that lolls out between a gap in those wicked fangs.  Disease marks nearly every inch of Vretchka. Oozing lesions across her bulk leak concentrated plague, while cancerous tumours are found in such abundance it is a wonder the pain has not completely eclipsed her mind. Several patches of her skin have sloughed off entirely, leaving an open display into the mess of rotten and dead organs that somehow still continue to function despite it all.

Methods and Motivations

When the Hell King abdicated his throne and left his crown to be claimed by the strongest of his princely children, Vretchka like all her fellow Demon Princes desired it for herself, and refused to even entertain the thought of another taking it. No other Demon Prince was worthy to lord over her, and as such only she was suitable to wear his crown. That is still true all these centuries later. Vretchka does not relish the thought of submitting to anyone, and absolute dominion over the Hellstack is still something that she craves.

Vretchka also understands that currently no one single figure amongst the Hellstack’s nobility can achieve such a lofty goal currently. None command the sheer amount of Demons necessary to weaken the eldritch winds of the Spirit Tempest to the point where safe passage to the crown is possible, and thus most have turned to other, more esoteric methods that they believe might circumvent this problem. Like her fellow Princes, Vretchka also has her own scheme. She will spread her Blight across all of the Hellstack, until everything is hers, and every Demon is her, and her alone.

Thus she wages war eternal upon the domains of the other Princes, spreading the Blight wherever she and her forces go. Her conquest is slow, as the Blight does not spread quickly and requires constant cultivation and care even within the realms of the Hellstack. As it spreads, her domain and her control over her environs grows ever greater, and as Demons fall under its inevitable spread more and more are transfigured into her insectoid spawn. Though she hates them so, she cannot deny that they make her eventual victory inevitable.

Powers and Abilities

When the Spirit Tempest at the heart of the Hellstack was formed, nearly all of the lords of the Hellstack saw an opportunity to become the new master of that vile plane. While they were loath to enter it themselves, it did not take long for them to discover that its destructive winds were weakened by the act of tearing apart the demonic hordes they sent to retrieve the Hell King’s crown. This in turn has led to what many demonic scholars have come to call the great paradox of the Hellstack. Most Demon Princes do not command enough Demons to weaken the Spirit Tempest to the point to where the crown might be safely retrieved. Only by combining their forces could they ever hope to do so, but that would require that those very same paragons of vice, sin, and evil defy their natures and reasons for wanting the crown in the first place. Thus, most of the Princes of the Hellstack have turned to other schemes that they believe will grant victory to them, and them alone.

Vretchka was otherwise occupied in those ancient days. While her fellow Princes warred amongst each other and devised esoteric strategies that they felt might counteract the barrier of the Spirit Tempest, she was instead engaged in another conflict altogether. Vretchka’s nature is that of corruption in all of its aspects, be it mental, physical, or even spiritual. When she discovered that her realm bordered another Celestial Realm whose godly ruler was essentially her opposite, well that was something that she could not rightly abide. Her campaign was brutal, even by the standards of the Hellstack. Her corruption was so potent it roiled off of her in waves, twisting the foliage and fauna into a stinking swamp wherever she went. Even the denizens of this realm were not safe, with her energies turning scores of the Celestial Host against one another. When at last the majority of that once sublime place belonged to her, and her alone, she slew the ancient God of that place and took his prize possession for herself. He had tried, and failed to draw Vretchka away from a perfect well whose essence was purity itself, indeed for it was said to be so pure that even Vretchka herself could not bear to look upon it. And yet, nor could she turn away from it either. Vretchka touched the surface of the well and poured the entirety of her defiling magics into its waters, though it burned her terribly to do so. The well sloughed off flesh and muscle as its energies tried mightily to cleanse this abomination before it, but the Demon Prince preserved. Despite nearly dying in the attempt, she was successful in a way.

What now stood before her was not a source of a power anathema to her, no it was something new entirely. Where Corruption and Purity met, the Blight was created. It would be both her greatest triumph, and her downfall. Black as pitch, this viscous substance was her corruption made physically manifest, and made far more potent by its concentration. The merest touch drove the last of the realm’s angelic defenders to complete collapse, their minds shattered as the sentient oil-like cancer she commanded ripped them to pieces. Whereas before corrupting the land took time and effort, now the merest drop of the Blight could pollute nearly a league in an instant.

Being mostly demonic in origin, the corruptive energies of the Blight had a different effect upon the denizens of the Hellstack. Whereas mortals and the beings of the Angelic have spiritual natures that are incompatible with its power, the spiritual essence of Demons is analogous to these energies. Thus, when they come into contact with the Blight, the reaction is something entirely new.

Those Demons taken by the Blight are thus in a sense absorbed by Vretchka. Their flesh boiled away, transfigured into the meat that will become their new body. Their mind boils away to bilious madness, and what remains is now a small part of the Infinite Swarm. A large boil forms somewhere upon her bloated form, and given time it will hatch as one of the many demonic insects she now commands. This process links the Demon to Vretchka, essentially becoming a part of her, but in doing so it takes something from her as well. Each time this process occurs, the being that she once was disappears ever-so slightly. The incessant buzzing in her skull only gets louder, and her sense of self as an individual fades even more. She hates them so very, very much for this. Though her power increases as the swarm does, she cannot stand losing bits of herself to them. These tiny, mewling, droning pieces of Blight that can undeniably claim to be a part of her clashes against her titanic pride to no end, and she dreads the day that she might finally stop being Vretchka, and only be the Infinite Swarm.

Nevertheless, she has been forced to continue this practice. For it is undeniably true that she lacks an alternative by which she might claim the crown of the Hellstack. The spiritual matter of a single Succubus can instead give life to a hundred demonic maggots, which in turn provides her the only advantage she might have over her fellow princes. While her insectoid spawn are still individually quite weak, their numbers are so great that their physical mass alone is often enough to afford her hordes victory over her enemies. Furthermore, the corruption that Vretchka infuses into all of her children further twists the very nature of the demonic spirits used in their creation, granting them a rather unique form of possession, which not even other Demons are immune to. With some effort they can implant a piece of their essence into a being that already suffers from some form of Vretchka’s corruption. Vretchka’s spawn slowly subsumes the original consciousness of whomever was unlucky enough to be infected, leaving them a short while to exist in a state of absolute agony and terror. For a while, the insect can direct the corpus it wears and even get it to perform complex actions, but fortunately they cannot sustain such a host for long. For once they are in control, the Demon’s ravenous hunger does not base or abate, and most meat puppets will last a few years at most before they devour themselves entirely. However, some of the more powerful infected demonic and angelic hosts have lasted longer, with some lasting decades or even centuries in a state of total agony.

Vretchka’s creation of many servants from one single essence is not without its drawbacks however. First, the process itself is slow. The hundreds of thousands of distended birthing sacks that cover her bloated thorax house and gestate these divided spirits, and it can take years for one of her children to finish taking shape. Secondly, this process is extremely hard on Vretchka herself. She is in a constant state of ravenous hunger, as her ever-growing spawn ravages her corpus for the sustenance they require.

This all-consuming corruption that emanates from the Infinite Swarm is so powerful that it bleeds across the barriers between the planes, corrupting the natural order of things as it does so. It is believed that when a wytch seeks to corrupt a portion of the natural world for their own use, they are in turn drawing upon powers and principles that at one point originated with Vretchka.

While it is true that she is generally immobile, she can in a sense “project” her corruption further should she desire to do so and should her swarm otherwise be occupied. At first glance the Winged Blight seems to possess an ovipositor, a long appendage used by common insects for the laying and implantation of their eggs. However, unlike an ovipositor, this appendage is not a means of reproduction, but rather it is a foul and sickening weapon of terror. First, she thrusts the needle into the infested ground that always surrounds her, and drinks greedily and deeply of the Blight. Once the ponderous sacs that hang loosely off this needle are filled to the brim with her manifest corruption, she then has the swarm pack the needle’s hollow cavity with all manner of corrupted, rotting flesh. Inside her foul and corpulent form both substances are combined, then transfigured into a boiling mass of horrific, clinging acid. This burning slime can be launched with the speed and accuracy that a pendulous being such as the Infinite Swarm should not be capable of, and subsequently has caught more than a few of her enemies off guard. So potent is this acid’s bite, that on occasion she has even managed to tear through planar barriers with it. While the acid alone is a danger in and of itself, if it is allowed to fester it becomes something far, far worse. As it devours and consumes anything organic that it touches, the demonic essence within the acid pool begins to awaken into something approaching sentience. Once it reaches a sort of critical mass, the spawning pool begins to sing a terrible melody. Bereft of anything even approaching the concept of love, most lower order Demons find this lullaby irresistible, with many traveling to its source while under its spell and offering up themselves and their essence freely. Eventually, once it has been fed enough the pool will begin to form and grow its own insectoid children, although they lack the flesh of a Demon Prince to feast upon, and are thus considerably weaker than Vretchka’s direct spawn.

Weaknesses

Beyond her sorcery and the numberless hordes of Scourges at her beck and call, Vretchka herself is somewhat lacking in raw might when compared to the other Princes of the Hellstack. She is largely dependent on the Blight from which she draws strength, and cannot command or direct the swarm should it not be present or be otherwise neutralized. The flood of Scourges call to her through the Blight, as it is the means by which their voices are transmitted, and the means by which she imposes her will upon them.

In addition, the creations of the now dead Dragon Ta-Ba-Ret known as the Brood are extraordinarily resistant to Vretchka’s corruptive powers. The Hivemind connection they share as well as unknown other factors hedge out the infectious energy of the Blight as well as prevent their control by the Infinite Swarm… a fact which Vretchka cannot stand. In fact, Brood Queens will systematically cleanse areas infested by the Blight whenever they come across them, though whether this is out of duty, altruism, or an altogether third alien purpose is unknown.

The Winged Blight is also one of the more physically weaker of the Demon Princes, and now that she has become little more than a corpulent and disease-ridden mass of insectoid flesh, physical combat is not something she relishes. While she can crush most who would attack her under her ponderous bulk, few amongst her hellish peers would struggle against her in martial combat. Vretchka simply does not possess the speed or range of motion necessary to be a direct threat in that fashion, and is thus forced to rely upon her aforementioned spawn and magical abilities for protection.

As her offspring are essentially extensions of her will and her body, Vretchka feels that actions meant to impede or harm them are no different than assaults upon herself. And given their incredible numbers and extensive spread, this constant, overwhelming influx of information has greatly fractured her mind. These distractions greatly limit her ability to engage in higher level thought and carry out the complex schemes her fellow brethren often engage in. Furthermore, she cannot stop this process by any means, including the proliferation of the Blight. Though she can direct it with mental effort, it automatically spreads across the Hellstack even without her input. Ever so slowly she is losing herself as the swarm of Scourge Demons grows ever larger.

Domain

Principality

The Spawning Pits of the Infinite Swarm is a vast and disgusting stinking tropical swamp replete with ever-growing fertile rot, and is rumored to have once been the Celestial Domain of a now-dead God of Purity. The swamp itself is impossibly thick, and it has been said by those few souls either brave or stupid enough to have traveled there that traveling two miles a day through its mire and muck would be a very fast pace. Enormous blackened trees infested with cancerous pustules shoot forth from a myriad of rotting bogs, before ultimately collapsing under their weight mere weeks later. Vines with murderous intent hang from every conceivable surface, and vast colonies of mycelium choke the stale air with their viral spores. The sheer mass of all the rotting, disease-infested plant matter is so overwhelming that attempting to traverse Vretchka’s domain by land is all but impossible without significant alchemical and magical protections. For there are no roads, no paths, no cities or fortresses within her domain; just an endless quagmire. Even if a person could manage all the threats actively trying to kill them, while also dealing with the near-constant risk of being infected by numerous and often fatal plagues, the sheer amount of dead organic matter in their way would block all attempts at forward progress. It is rumored that divine artifacts and long-forgotten lore that could shake the world above lie hidden in an overgrown temple to the once living Celestial master of this realm, and while it as of yet has been found, this rather persistent rumour has seen a few adventurers with more greed than sense enter her Principality in search of them.

While the ground below can at least be called vibrant and fruitful in a twisted sort of way, the air above in the Spawning Pits of the Infinite Swarm are anything but. The firmament of Vretchka’s domain is so thick with the teeming hordes of her flying bug-like children that they are often mistaken for actual clouds, and their incessant droning and chittering serves to virtually overwhelm all other sound in the realm. Vretchka’s spawn are pressed so tightly together that most cannot move, and are forced to go wherever the swarm takes them. Usually this is only when the swarm is directed towards a portal to another realm, but occasionally they are directed to set upon and seize would-be thieves or invaders that have made their way into Vretchka’s domain.

Vretchka herself rests upon the banks a disgusting body of water that has been deemed “Blightmire” by her Wytches. This nigh-bottomless pit was once the source of power for her most ancient foe, a well whose magic was the very metaphysical concept of purity itself. Now it is the primary source of the Blight, the strange black cancerous liquid that twists and corrupts anything it touches. The fumes that lazily rise from its waters are nearly themselves visible, and even light itself twists and warps in their presence. All manner of corruption is born beneath the surface, and carried to all realms above and below by the spread of the swarm. Should one of her victims prove resistant to her dark gifts, the Winged Blight will drag the offending creature here, where they will be subjected to the fullest measure of her corruption. It is said by her cultists that not even the mightiest warriors of the Hellstack could resist, should they be baptized within its umbral depths.

Demonic Hosts

Most of the various demonic subraces found within the armies of other Demon Princes can be found in Vretchka’s domain, albeit in various stages of infestation and consumption. The Winged Blight does not discriminate, and any who accept her gifts, willingly or not, are welcome in her presence. However, these stolen servants still number in the minority, with most eventually having their spirits rendering down into the seed that gives birth to the Scourge Demons of her ever-growing swarm.

These countless, teeming masses are composed of the end result of these spiritual fragments, which are twisted the countless different species of demonic insects, by spells known only to her. Being possessed of a small fragment of a true demonic spirit, these unique vermin are extremely simple beings. The capacity for higher thought, active malice, or even the ability to think at all is lost when a spirit is sundered in such a fashion. Nothing is left but their primal instincts and drives, for they are hunger and consumption given physical form. When they are unleashed upon the world, nothing is left but rocks and the dirt to mark their passing. They are simply unable to conceive of anything beyond trying to fill the ravenous void created by the division of their spirit, and attempt to do so by consuming and corrupting everything that lives. Crops, animals, mortals, none are safe when the swarm approaches. The only thing the swarm does not consume, is the swarm itself. By ancient decree implanted in the innermost fibers of their being by Vretchka herself they cannot feast upon one another, no matter how deep and ravenous their hunger might be. They are her, and as such she cannot abide the thought of harming herself in any way.

However, for a precious few of these Scourges, true sapience is achievable. By feasting upon enough spirits, these insects can in a sense regenerate what was lost when they were created. The spiritual essence they consume sloughs off onto the already-existing fragments of their own spirit, and as it grows, so does their innate power and intelligence. This still does nothing to salve their immense hunger, only now that ravenous appetite is driven by a sapient mind that can think, plan ahead, and lead its own offshoot of the swarm. Some of these demonic insects have feasted on so much spiritual essence that their bulk expands to the point where they themselves can gestate and give birth to more progeny, just as Vretchka does. However, these particular specimens are mercifully quite uncommon.

Cults

Mortal Cultists

Wytch cults devoted to Vretchka are rare, as she offers something different than the usual temptations that many other Demon Princes offer. The Winged Blight does not directly offer physical power or forbidden spells, nor does she slake taboo carnal lusts or teach the hidden secrets of Contract Magic. Those few that do dedicate their spirits to are generally those who have been touched by her corruption in some fashion.

Most mortals unlucky enough to be infected by the corruption borne by her teeming hordes do not suffer long, for few have the fortitude to resist the forces literally devouring them from the inside. Their bloated corpses eventually give birth to a new batch of verminous children, or sustain those that already corrupt the earth. For those that are unlucky enough to survive long enough however, theirs is a fate far worse than death. Corruption cannot be resisted by most beings, not forever at any rate, and for those that try, all they ultimately manage to do is to stay alive long enough for these demonic energies to penetrate their spirits. Their bodies, thoughts, even their very personalities are perverted and twisted towards the worship of the Infinite Swarm. Once the process is complete, the person they once were is utterly gone, as if their thread had been torn from the very fabric of creation itself. All that remains is a drone that wears their face, a parishioner that sings the glories of Vretchka and serves as an extension of her will. The final goal of these accursed beings is to call the Blight to the Material Plane. Doing so requires an exhaustive series of rites which are difficult to perform without the cultists expiring under the strain of what has been asked of them. Furthermore, should they succeed, the Blight still requires constant tending as if it were an exotic plant. It must be fed regularly as most planes outside the Hellstack are naturally resistant to its spread. Resistance is not immunity however, but fortunately for those who defend nature the presence of the Blight is unmistakable. Its essence twists and corrupts all natural life nearby, and this infection is marked by a sickly yellowish green shade despite the raw Blight’s pitch-black sheen. It also tends to glow with a foul luminosity if viewed at night. Those that revere nature consider it to be an abomination, and fight to cleanse the Blight wherever it may be found.

Preferred Sacrifices

Vretchka craves sustenance more than anything else in existence, save perhaps the Hell King’s crown atop her many-eyed brow. She and her insectoid hordes exist in a constant state of abject starvation, for their hunger is bottomless, yet their supply of bloody victuals is not. However, while any living flesh will do, certain kinds of flesh are said to be more filling and thus more highly desired by the Winged Blight. The meat of beings who once had a spirit, particularly children or other innocents, is far more nourishing than meat taken from a common animal. It is said that it is akin to the difference between a bowl of unseasoned gruel and a silver plate adorned with a perfectly-cooked steak. However, the Infinite Swarm cannot consume untainted meat, as beings that are uncorrupted are anathema to her. Flesh and matter must first be twisted like she is, infused with the power of corruption before she can draw sustenance from them. Should they fail to do so, the end result would be similar to that when a mortal consumes rotten meat. Extreme discomfort, sickness, and even death in some cases. Living mortals are also greatly valued, as they are often forced to become quislings or vectors for Vretchka’s ever-expanding tide of corruption and plague. People who will not missed are often targeted by the insane cultists that serve the Winged Blight and taken from their homes, so that they too might feel the voice of the worm within their hollowed skulls.  While they are often quite difficult to procure, the Infinite Swarm has also been known to lavish attention and favour upon those who are able to deliver a bound demon’s spirit into her embrace. Such offerings are quite uncommon due to the sheer difficulty in binding a Demon, but for those powerful yet foolhardy enough to try, the rewards may seem to be worth the trouble. For Vretchka desires more children above all else, and each demonic spirit she takes into her embrace might birth a hundred thousand winged locusts, or a million blind white maggots.

Summoning and Rites

The Writhing

This gruesome rite is utilized by Vretchka’s covens when they wish to draw a portion of the Blight to the mortal plane. Few cultists can hope to even attempt these rites, and they must be done without error, seven times over seven days, without sleep or sustenance. Acquiring the substances alone to make such a feat physically possible is intensely difficult, and most who are able to do so die under the strain that it takes upon their bodies. For those that are willing and able to risk it, this is what is required. Every kind of waste, dirt, and trash imaginable must be slowly poured into a filthy and pitted iron cauldron, while another cultist mixes the contents with the blood of at least seven innocent children slain within the past seven days to serve as a binding. It is written that the mixing process is to take place over a period of seven minutes, no more, and no less. As they do so at least seven more cultists must drone incessantly as the Infinite Swarm does, or Vretchka will not hear their call. If the offering is accepted, Vretchka will touch the foul slurry within the cauldron, transfiguring it into a new source of the Blight.

The Marrow-Tithe

This rite is performed wherever a cultist wishes to offer unto Vretchka a portion of meat, in the hopes that doing so will grant them a measure of favour from the Infinite Swarm.

Upon a slab of pitted stone taken directly from Vretchka’s domain, seven innocent mortal babes are laid. Using a knife carved solely from the thigh bone of an adolescent elf on the cusp of maturity, these babies are to be killed on the hour, every hour. If this schedule is not adhered to perfectly, the powers of corruption that the cultists seek to channel may not be strong enough to pollute the spirits of the innocent children. As their wailing screams turn to wet gurgling noises, the air above the altar will begin to shimmer and hum. As the seventh babe dies, this humming becomes a piercing shriek as the air itself pulls apart, revealing a small window that leads into the Spawning Pits of the Infinite Swarm. While it is unsuitable for true planar travel, this window does allow the cultists to deliver their offering of meat unto Vretchka’s nigh-infinite hordes. Occasionally, for those who present an especially noteworthy offering, she grants a powerful boon. Fearsome strength, demonic magic, or even wicked fertility have all been bestowed upon those who pleased her with their gift of flesh.

History

The Annals of Hunger and Rot

The Age of Lucidity

Author unknown, believed to be the Wytch known as Leurnean Plaguekissed, slain by agents of the Citadel in the year 2243. The following pages were found amongst her personal effects.

“In the ancient days, in that age that time itself has nearly been forgotten, the demonic sons and daughters of the Hell King were forged. By the power of tainted spirits and shattered Axioms, our masters were made. Each was in and of itself the paragon of a key aspect of creation itself, a foul aspect that most would forget but none could deny. In those days our master Vretchka was truly sublime, horrific in her countenance and terrible in her might. Her form was a chimeric patchwork of desecration. Serpentine tongues and eyeless faces screamed blasphemies as corruptive fungal tendrils bent all life that surrounded her towards her titanic will.

As the wars with the Celestial Host began to cease with the flight of the Gods to their heavenly domains, the Hell King as his children built their own hellish domains at the mouth of the Black Tide. Some forged them from stolen celestial planes, while others forged theirs with more esoteric materials. It is unknown exactly from where Vretchka created the sublime bog that she now calls home, but we do know that upon its creation our master was not idle for long. She wasted no time resting or scheming for the crown after her father vanished, for she was soon made aware that she had greater concerns.

At the border of her realm, separated by the most fragile of planar barriers, stood a celestial realm whose very existence was the gravest insult. It was a realm of crystal towers without flaw and silver flames that did not burn, a realm where no blemish or imperfection could shatter the harmony of the whole. There sat upon the throne a figure of unbearable light. He was perfect, without blemish or even pride to mar the purity of his spirit. He was in a very real sense, everything that Vretchka was not. Furthermore, our master knew that if she could sense him, then the reverse must also be true. He could no more tolerate her existence than she could his, and both began to prepare for war.

What Vretchka did not know was that her awareness of this realm and the subsequent response it provoked was no accident. For you see, Vandritas and Pergyntus had discovered this god and his realm long ago, long before Vretchka had even caught the faintest glimpse of that most pure of heavens. Their nature was perfection, and it was in this god they saw what perfection could be, what it should be were they not tainted by sin. And although they would never admit it, the sight of him filled them with an emotion they had never before experienced.

Shame.

Where they not creatures formed from sin and torment, perhaps such an experience may have led them to reflect upon their nature, and their past actions. But our masters are not capable of such change, and they are as much slaves to their nature and we are to them. The Twinned Beguilers sought instead to salve their injured pride and remove this godly stain that wounded them so, and sought out Ling Wei and the secrets she held. Though the price was almost too great to bear, the thought of the God who was plainly superior was a greater wound still, and thus it was paid. Ling Wei’s information quickly put away any thoughts of conquest or murder, as she revealed just how far the god was beyond their considerable capabilities.

For his armies of the god were nigh-unassailable. No fear clouded their minds, no injury or disease marred their flesh, and no doubt swayed them from their cause. They would not be tempted by succubi, not defeated in combat by the more martially minded fiends they had ensnared. The god himself was that times a thousand fold, and if they attempted to invade with their armies, defeat was assured. Thus, a different plan of action was drawn up. Though they would inevitably fail if they attempted to meet Purity with Perfection, perhaps Purity’s opposite could be surpassed by Corruption?

They could not simply tear a portal open between the realms, as they needed Vretchka to commit herself wholly to this war, and for her to do that they would need to inflame her hatreds. She must believe that this war was her idea, and her alone. Instead, what they resolved to do was to simply thin the barrier between their realms while drawing them close, that way Vretchka would have the time to observe the heaven and nurse her growing hatred. Boons we paid, deals were struck, and the greatest minds and mages of the Hellstack were thus compelled by the Twinned Beguilers into performing an act of magic so insane we have yet to see its like again. After the spell was complete, it was as if nothing had changed. At least, nothing at first. Both sides of the curtain soon discovered that when the time was right, the curtain parted entirely and one could see past the veil into their neighboring realm.

Thus, came the beginning of our master’s greatest triumph, and her greatest failure.

Vandritas and Pergyntus were almost entirely correct. Vretchka’s corruption was the power that the god could not answer. As she strode across the land all that was once beautiful and perfect was overwhelmed by her power. The crystal towers of his worshipers shattered and fell, its perfect gardens wilted away into rotting bogs, and even the sky itself was choked with the plague-ridden air that she breathed. The god’s attempts to ward off her assault were feeble at best, and if any other god heard his cries for aid, none came.

The god was slain at the foot of his more precious treasure, a well whose waters radiated the very essence of purity itself. Once more our master turned her energies upon that which she could not abide, and from the blasphemous union she created the Blight. That cancerous oil that will one day consume all of the Hellstack.

So secure was she in her triumph, that she did not notice the smallest of imps approach. It was a pathetic thing, constantly abused in every fashion by the Demons whose might allowed them to do so. It sought an escape from its torment, and in desperation it thought that perhaps this new substance would grant it the strength it did not know, but lusted for. The result was near instantaneous, and the creature it was before was devoured entirely by the pool of physically manifested corruption.

Vretchka herself howled in as her flesh twisted and refused to stop. Her stomach distended, boiled, and heaved as a new home was fashioned by the ravenous spirit that was now bound to her very essence. She felt herself lose a piece of her mind as new life took root upon her bloated stomach. The Blight hungered for more and surged forth, devouring any Demon not fast enough to escape the tide. With each spirit a new birthing sac was formed, each one a host to any number of new insect demonoid creatures now under command. It is said that she very nearly lost her mind that day.

Though she managed to recover, it became clear that she had been used, and had unknowingly been twisted beyond all recognition for the ambitions of another. She has since learned of who had why had thus violated her so, and thus has sworn a vow of vengeance upon the Twinned Beguilers for their deception.”