Psychodidae

In a time before the Warrior was bequeathed with the heavy Knowing, a memorial was constructed to honor the folly of man.

But Man was a fool, and his ill-conceit opened the gates to the immortal world far below. With no concern for his fellows, Man drilled deep into the evil of the underworld. No traps were laid, no sigils drawn, no offerings to honor the goddess Cheuksin. Lines intended to keep humanity safe were tread upon without care. And with such impetuous desecration, the seals were broken and terrible creatures ascended to the human plane.

When the Warrior Knew, a battle unlike any in history unfolded. Demons rose from the first circle in overwhelming numbers, black swarms meant to overwhelm. A stench that only Hades would use as cologne boggled the senses of the righteous and helped lift the creatures from the depths below.

The Warrior could not know peace.

The cry of the slain demons rang silent in the ears of the Warrior: “for you have given me misery, so shall I return this wretched favor”.

Great bellows of poisonous smoke were released into the marble cave. Liquid fire was poured into the tunnels to inferno. Purple beams of staggering light enticed and then disintegrated the hellish creatures.

But there was no end. Clouds of flying clones interrogated the Warrior day and night. They began to make headway into the sacred homeland of the Warrior, beyond the mere mountains and caves along the border.

The Warrior used every tool the oracle advised, and yet the battle raged on. Though hell sustained a great many casualties, the putrid decay of the underworld produced double the troops to replace the fallen at an inhuman speed.

Many months into battle, weakened and weary, the Warrior embarked on a quest for knowledge, and in complete chance unforetold by the prophecy, the Tool was found.

The Warrior rushed back to the homeland with the Tool, full of renewed fervor to win the war.

With an unpracticed but confident hand, the Warrior put the Tool into place at the gaping maw, the black hole of evil. The gates to hell were sealed. All rejoiced.

But the Warrior’s victory was not absolute, for every full moon hell released a mighty belch with unimaginable stench. Demons arose from the first circle, not bested after all.

The Warrior was unarmed, bare to the world, but fought with hands and any weapons within reach to quell the foul creatures and horrid stench.

But in the heat of battle, the Warrior noticed a new foe. A new demon from the second circle. Larger and more menacing than the mere gnats of the first circle, with a promise of disease and plague. A creature that feasted on animal carcass, that threatened a future worse than the Warrior could imagine.

The Warrior bested this beast but looked on with horror.

Though the battle was won, would the war ever end?