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Malfisto's Conquest	By : JohnDoe Category: -Misc Video Games/RPGs > General Views: 1300 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Demon Conquest and I make no money from this work. No offense is intended or religious or other grounds. Please do not imitate the acts depicted. I did not make the CYOA.

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I am the High Lord Malfisto. Duke of Hell. Ruler of the Dark Kingdom of Eldermire, one of the Five Infernal Realms.

Superior to any mortal in every way, from longevity to strength, I am no mere demon, but one of the Greater Fiends. I am of the asmodean breed, the high devils. The other breeds of Greater Fiend might be stronger or hardier, but it is good to be a high devil. Every asmodean commands magics of destruction and illusion: as a breed we are powerful mystics and the cunning upper crust of demonic nobility.

Whilst even the lesser devils prefer civilization, I rule the buzzing, writhing swampland of the Eldermire: the dark and treacherous jungles that mark the boarders of the Infernal Realms. It is a land of powerful demonic beasts and, more importantly, exotic alchemical reagents. Whilst my devil kin would rather live in the cities and have such reagents brought to them, a special few have the vision to secure the best of these dark resources for their own use personally.

I won Eldermire through words of fury and promises of glory, raising a great army of devils to seize the untapped wealth of this land.

Yet the more wealth I acquire, the more I desire. Before I possessed the Eldermire, it seemed like it was a land of riches untold, but as soon as it was within my grasp I turned my attention to the un-spoilt mortal realms.

Once, not so very long ago, the Five Infernal Realms were welded together in one Infernal Empire, ruled over by Asogoroth III, greatest of the greater fiends. Fearlessly did he lead us into the mortal realms. Fearlessly did he march upon the Chosen Hero – a mortal man empowered by the gods and sent on a divine mission to stop the demonic conquest. And fearlessly did our dear king die – striking a mortal blow upon the Hero as he fell.

Without our beloved, dearly departed leader, the demonic assault on the mortal realms has stalled. Six of the thirteen mortal realms have been overcome, five of the conquered by my fellow High Lords, the sixth under my own dominion.

Ashmedai, Custodian of Pandemonium – the capital of the demon realm, rules over the lands of Alyroise, where we began our assault on the mortal realms. The so-called, Land of the Faithful: the grandest of the human kingdoms, a place of rolling fields, fertile planes, and vital forests. Blessed by the gods, rich in resources: an un-despoiled paradise. At least it was before our arrival. Now the land is ravaged as Ashmedai extracts its vast wealth to fuel his war marchine. The once un-touched Holy Virgins who watched over the land are routinely raped to remind the people of their place beneath their demonic overlords. Ashmedai himself is a fellow high devil: devious, destructive, and cunning – he is uncommonly strong, even by the standards of the more martial greater fiends, and reckons himself the rightful successor to Asogoroth III. Needless to say, I have my objections to that.

Anchored to the skies above Alyroise is Sunhome, also ruled over by Ashmedai. This small island is tethered to the sky by the power of a bound star. Home to the winged skyfolk – favored servants of the gods, blessed with divine and celestial powers. Though perhaps the smallest of the mortal kingdoms, Sunhome is all but unassailable.

Ashmedai has queer ideas on rulership. Though he has enslaved the mortal women living within his realm, he allows the men to go free. The mortal men of Ashmedai’s realm are treated as if they were demons themselves – allowed to own female slaves, fight in Ashmedai’s armies (alongside his orcs and devils), and otherwise live their lives as they did before demonic conquest. It’s a perverse mockery of the demonic order… but it is hard to argue with results – Ashmedai’s realm is the largest, and most productive, of any of the High Lords.

Travelling north of Alyroise brings one to a convergence of lakes and rivers, the land of Valeren. Once the land of the mortal mages, a giant college of learning, it is now the dominion of Marchosias, the lord of shadow. Some have suggested that Marchosias is a fellow asmodean: though none have seen his true form in generations, I can disabuse that notion. Though he is duplicitous and hateful, and possessing great arcane power, he is not of my breed. In hell, he rules over the Blackweald – a realm of perpetual night, an endless woodland that connects the lands of the living and the dead. The Blackweald is one of the few infernal realms that can grow food in any great quantity – ironic as many of its undead inhabitants do not require sustenance. As different as the vampires from that beak realm are from mortal men is Marchosias from a true asmodean. He is of the Forsaken, the Vengeful Spirits, perhaps the last of his foul kind. He has put the treasures of Valeren to good use: the magical machines of the Land of Mages, coupled with imports of food from the Blackweald, grant Marchosias a prosperous and stable realm. Marchosias rules with an iron fist, sending men to perform slave labor whilst females provide breeding stock for his armies. The winged fiends, bestial chimera, make up the bulk of Marchosias’s armies – they are a force well suited to the watery terrain of Valeren, which is all but impossible to assault by land. Ambitious devils also flock to Marchosias’s banner, covetous of the arcane powers he commands.

West of Valeren lie the great forests of Litreya, the land of the elves. Once the elves were ruled over by an immortal queen – Fraeya. Some say Fraeya was the very reason Asogoroth III led us into the mortal realms, so enamored was he by her beauty and filled with a powerful need to possess her. Now it is ruled by Pazuzu, the tempestuous Warden of Eden. Pazuzu is of the Belian, he is the greatest of the hounds of hell, impossibly fast, monstrously powerful, and all but immune to magics. Fraeya extols him as the rightful king of the elves, and serves as his concubine, the male elves allowed to labor on behalf of their new demonic masters, as the females fill the woodland with the sounds of their screams as Pazuzu breeds new soldiers (the monstrous fiends and the swift breeding orc being the favored foot soldiers of the hell hound).

As Alyroise lies to the south of Valeren and Litreya, to the north of these kingdoms is the frozen land of the dwarves – Utgar. It is mountainous land, isolationist and defensible, its people warlike, and stubborn. The most brutal of all the High Lords, the mightiest of the malphan demons, Eligor the Despoiler, led his armies into Utgar. There he battled with the Bruna, the mightiest of all the dwarven warriors. For three days and two nights did the two exchange blows that rocked the very mountains themselves, until finally, as the sun set on the third day, Eligor delivered the decisive blow. Breaking Bruna’s horns, Eligor’s army fell on Utgar in an orgy of violence. Every male dwarf was put to death – no mercy being shown to the mortals, beaten down into abject slavery. The backbone of Eligor’s army is the elite tauros, native to his hell realm, the Wrathlands. Largest and most powerful of the lesser demons, the great bovine tauros can kill a dozen mortal warriors with a single swing. Though they lack in number, Eligor’s tauros are supplemented by vast orc legions.

There are no lands north of Utgar, only the frozen pole and blasted tundra. The rivers that start in the mountains of Utgar, feed the forests of Litreya, before turning west through Valeren and the sea.

Continuing west, the frozen hills of Utgar give way to coast and tundra, which turn south to the steppes and deserts of Ghuranka. Some claim it was Fraeya, queen of the elves, who diverted the rivers of Utgar away from these lands centuries ago, but the whether true or not Ghuranka is a dry and baron land. Home of the beastfolk and the enormous titans, Ghuranka possesses neither resources nor farmland. Blistering hot days and punishingly cold nights make this cursed land a nightmare to invade. Ghuranka has yet to be claimed by a High Lord, but surely it will be the next great battlefield, for it was here that the mortal’s Chosen Hero was able to slay the Demon King, and though the wastelands of Ghuranka are vast, they eventually give way to the metropolitan nation of Estain and the other unspoiled mortal kingdoms of the West.

And thus, we come finally to the southlands, bordering the least hospitable lands of Alyroise, and the most blasted wastelands of Ghuranka is Shyreen. Wracked with vast mesas and deep ravines, the land is baron and rocky as far as the eye can see. Yet Shyreen is perhaps the most valuable realm of all. Deep within the ravines lies fantastic wealth – great veins of sparkling gems and pure metals – and strange flora. Here the dark elves raise their underground cities, lit by captured starlight and brimming with opulence. Here, under resplendent promenades, the all-female race of dark elves, worked their dark magic in secret. Here, my armies descended in conquest.

Bringing with me the spoils of my campaigns against the other nations, I have turned Shyreen from a small kingdom of untold luxury, into the greatest kingdom in these mortal realms. Automated machines of Valeren design handle the labor of my kingdom. Fertile magics, stolen from Litreya, bring an endless bounty of crops. Dwarf forged cannon gives us an unmatched advantage in war. The dark elves have been swift adaptors of my New Faith, extolling demon-kind as the true gods of the mortals. My army of devils luxuriate as kings as we put the dark elf race to good use.

Ashmedai needs humbling and the lands of the west need conquering. The time to strike is now!

Strengths? I have many.

Like every asmodean, I possess powerful magics of destruction and illusion. But more than that, I have studied the star magic of Sunhome, allowing me to see the unseen and scry distant locations. I have mastered the mortal arcana – bending the magics of time, space, and force to my will. (The manipulation of time is especially useful given my preternatural speed, honed by the dangers of the Eldermire.) In the secrets of dark magic – necromancy, mind control, and the ability to drain life – I am unmatched. Mine is the greatest magic in any realm – not even Ashmedai can match my sorcerous might. Through raw strength, I have blasted a gateway between Shyreen and the Eldermire. And I have three important trump cards. Firstly, my loyal servants are well versed in magic – from my two full legions of lesser devils to the Witch Queen of Shyreen. Secondly, I possess many relics that amplify my sorcerous power – far too many to enumerate all of them. And finally, this: Olth’s Talisman – once a holy symbol of an Alyroisan Great Sage, it now protects me from demonic magics.

My army is the grandest of all the High Lords. In Hell, I am beloved. In these mortal realms, I have martialed my strength carefully. Legions of devils, wyrm riders, tauros, and fiends are mine to command. I do, admittedly, command fewer orcs than any High Lord save Marchosias - only a single legion. But the dread crawlers, the living bioweapons native to the Eldermire, answer my command. Armies of mortal dead march at my command and magi-tech golems of vast power supplement my forces. My demon general Asthathia is one of the greatest strategists – her plans wickedly cunning and devilishly creative. Alarica, once the undefeated general of Sunhome, is a peerless frontline commander – more than capable of leading my vast, airborne force. My flagship, the Bird of Paradise, can deliver my elite tauros warriors to battle, bypassing any ground defenses to strike where my foes are most vulnerable.

But strength of arms and mystical might aren’t enough. When the demon king fell, only three of his High Lords fought beside him – and only one sought to continue the king’s great works instead of founding his own kingdom. My personal succubus, Namaaru, sets my enemies against each other. My powers of clairvoyance are useful at home and abroad for ferreting out plots and traitors. Most importantly, my people love me. To the denizens of Eldermire, I am a hero and a liberator. To the elves of Shyreen, I am a living god, owner of their dread-queen. I am the alpha crawler. The master of an alpha wyrm. First among high devils. More importantly, Pazuzu, Eligor, and Marchosais’s domains are all on the other side of Ashmedai’s. I have no doubt that Eligor will try to take Ghuranka – his armies are hardy and the wastelands of Ghuranka are far more hospitable than those of the Wrathlands. But the others? They cannot attack me without going through another High Lord first.

Women?

I have a handful. Like any other treasure, you can always have more.

My duchess, of course, Lilly of the Vale – the personification of the Eldermire itself. Carefree, energetic, vicious and cruel: what more could you ask of a woman. Exceptionally skilled in controlling plant matter, my Lilly is more than capable of administering Eldermire in my absence.

The jewel of Shyreen, Dhunyia, queen of the dark elves is another treasure dear to me. I can see why Asogoroth wanted her. The dark elves were slow to come to the defense of the other mortals – they are natural predators, like demons only inferior. Dhunyia is a callous and ruthless consort: she cares less for her people than I do, obsessed only with plying the depths of dark magic. None-the-less, she is an enthusiastic lover, and a fine prize stolen out from the nose of the former king.

Of my demon generals, I have two – both women. Namaaru, my personal succubus, leads by example, showing the slaves of my new domain the proper way of worshiping their master. Voluptuous and ever so useful. She often has my favor.

Astathia is slender and easily bored. I like to keep her close, if only to keep an eye on her. All devils are slippery creatures – mischief and ambition are the hallmarks of my lesser kin, and Astathia is nothing if not an exemplary devil. Namaaru’s teasing is useful to keep her in check, but her practical tactical brilliance, and her skill with illusionary magic, make my efforts more than worthwhile.

Whilst Astathia is the brains behind my legions, Alarica is the brawn. A highly capable commander and a powerful combatant, I captured her in my campaign against Sunhome. The winged skyfolk woman is a fine prize, utterly devoted to my cause of demonic supremacy.

Well, I say utterly. The devotion of Sister Myriea, Low Priestess of the New Faith, puts all my other servants to shame. Her pliant body is easily reduced to helpless squeals of reverie when I take my pleasure on her. And her powerful protective and empowerment magics are useful when proselytizing to new converts at the head of my legions.

Eternal Princess of the Elves, Saiarelle is something of an irritation. Her usefulness cannot be overstated – her healing abilities are useful, but her ability to manipulate the flora of Shyreen has brought incredible abundance to my kingdom. But she is convinced that elves are the superior mortal race and that it is their rightful place to be conquered utterly by demon-kind. Every day she begs that we march on her mother’s kingdom and subjugate her people: it’s tiresome. Pazuzu is… well, if not a friend, then at least a capable High Lord. I am supremely confident the elven people have got what they deserve. Only giving her over to Dhunyia for the night can shut her up and buy me some precious peace.

Whilst Saiarelle grants my kingdom abundance, Ziya has granted it luxury. Shyreen is a beautiful kingdom, of vast wealth. But harnessing that wealth needs labor and I need the natives for breeding stock. Enter Ziya, whose skill at automation has mitigated much of this need. Her powerful magi-tech golems reinforce my army, and she has an endearing shyness coupled with a desperate need for approval. I visit her rarely, like me she prefers to work in peace, but I am never disappointed. The modernization of Shyreen still has a long way to go, but with Ziya’s artifice replicated by my legions of devils, we have already eclipsed Valeren.

Ziya is not my only artificer. The dwarf maid Reyki is small enough to keep on hand and she makes a fine adornment. Her contraptions lack the elegance of Ziya’s magic: they are dirty and loud. But they work. Elegance is overrated.

Lastly are my brood daughters. Oh, I suppose I could have any mewling mortal who caught my eye, but if these women whose names I have bothered to learn can’t content me, I don’t suppose I’m likely to be enticed by some random dark elf or ambitious succubus. Therefore: lastly are my brood daughters. (I’d learn their names if they had them.) The world sees my beautiful crawlers as “hideous abominations”: mindless, writhing flesh piles that know only how to eat and spawn new horrors. The dullards associate them with the molochite – and I suppose this can be forgiven. Of all the breeds of Greater Fiend, the Shrouded Ones are certainly the most similar in form and function to the crawlers, but they are an entirely different species. It’s rare, but a lesser devil can ascend to the ranks of the asmodeans. A crawler cannot become a molochite. The crawlers are all connected – not one mind, but a hive mind. I can tap that mind and form from it, not a writhing mass of tentacles and teeth, but a feminine shape, pleasing to the eye. Pliable. Gelatinous. Admittedly, still betentacled. The process is not perfect, but the urge to feed can be almost totally subsumed by the urge to breed. I keep but a handful – enough to make it prestigious for my nobility to emulate me. And they amuse Lilly no end.
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Malfisto's Conquest