Dolorel

A demon prince of the Abyss that leads an army of demons known as the Vengful Legion. He is the Demon Prince of Vengence and was once a mortal wizard that had been trapped in the abyss. now as a demon prince he seeks vengence on all who descended from the Imperil Council of Terran Sah-lie.

History

The remains of Terran Sah-lie were bare, civilization was sparse and had lost its way. The twelve had whittled away at its people for centuries now, and the civilians had no remaining will to put up any sort of resistance. They were drones, cogs in the political machine that had ground all life to dust as its goals steamrolled over their own.

Yet when all hope had been lost a figure emerged from the shroud the gross overuse of power had cast. Rumors of a young man blessed by the divine began to spread, and the people whispered that their salvation had come. His name was Dolorel, and the youthful wizard could be the resistance the workers needed to destroy the overlords there.

He showed a prodigious control of magic for such a young mortal, and his potential seemed to grow every day. Rumors were confirmed when he made a show of force as a sign of resistance in the face of the council. He made the statue of Tyrendor, one of the twelve, vanish, all the while denouncing their tyrannical rule. He publicly vowed that if they did not change their ways they would befall certain doom. Their fate now rested in their own hands.

The council underestimated the foe. One mortal, barely a man's age, couldn't be seen as a threat. They believed that in admitting the boy had gotten their attention though would be conceding to him, legitimizing his claims and labeling him a true threat to the ruling order. They chose to do nothing, but that only allowed him to build up his following. He spread his word, constantly tearing down the twelve in lengthy, powerful sermons. He was touched by the heavens, and as such he was charismatic and charming and it only helped gather more behind him.

The twelve began to panic as more and more joined his cause. They did what any government would do and declared martial law. Anyone caught supporting Dolorel would be arrested, and in no time the jails were packed with new inmates. None of the detained were Dolorel though, he had fled to avoid conflict but he did stop whenever he found the opportunity to help free some of the wrongfully imprisoned.

The people finally found other ways to rebel. The Coven of Matern has established an underground railroad that offers safe passage to the rift to a new life. This rumor made them the forefront name in hope and safety. It brought many people from far and wide into its protection and gave the gift of the new and safe world to many. They were highly regarded by the people, and as such were highly despised by the twelve after being undermined.

Dolorel continued to remain hidden, finding safety in any town as they sheltered him for his prophesied rise to power. Unfortunately it didn't help him escape their reach. Soldiers had come to their town on rumors the townsfolk were holding rituals in honor of Matern, an outlawed act. The people there refused, and the leader, an elder of the town, asked for mercy for they had done no harm.

The soldiers did not seem to care. The soldier who appeared to be in charge struck the elder, a quick and precise backhand that knocked him to the ground. He collapsed in a heap as the soldier moved to grab the wife of the injured elder.

Dolorel couldn't look on at this and not end it, forcing him out of hiding. With a blast of energy he joined the affair, casting the leader to the ground twenty feet away. He brought his hands up in a series of graceful yet powerful motions as he uttered arcane words, sending assaults of fireballs and lightning bolts down from the sky.

As he brought his assault on the soldiers, he condemned them after they had been warned to change their rule. For their actions, the poor soldiers in front of him could only flee in terror or die honorably as nothing could stand in his way. In response the twelve were finally forced to classify him as a terrorist and denounce his actions to the people, but it was too late. The twelve decreed it illegal to speak to, harbor, or help Dolorel in any way, yet the people paid this no mind.

Meanwhile, on Battle-Ground, enough people had escaped Terran Sah-lie and started to settle a land they named Dul'Vesh. The first large educational magic facility was founded on Battle-Ground during this time. The benevolent founders were known as the Arcanum Council and they started training people to use magic. It caused the land to develop rapidly as magic users started to come in the plenty and aided in the building process. The Arcanum Council wanted to keep their new home safe and out of the hands of the twelve, and this was the best way to do that.

Dolorel used his following to form an army that began to stretch to the size of the nation. To bring up his numbers he worked on liberating the towns as he gathered volunteer troops. He was carving his way through the private military and the twelve was in full panic as he roamed free on their land. The council hastened to rebuild their forces, bring more troops, training them at a grueling pace and hardening them for battle with hours of sparring. They armed them with the finest weapons money could buy and fortified their defenses with the best men the company had to offer.

It appeared Dolorel was on a trajectory to collide with the Imperil Council and they couldn't evade him any longer. War seemed imminent and it would be sure to decimate much of the remaining population, until Dolorel received a message from a nervous pageboy, terrified as he jogged into the tavern Dolorel had set up shop in from whatever town was most recently liberated. Dolorel heeded his message in polite silence, even offering him eye contact as he spoke. He heard his words and thanked him before bidding him farewell, not harming the man in any way after he departed. The messenger had brought word that the twelve sought an audience with Dolorel. The meeting would take place one year from the date he received the message and they would talk of peace. He decided to go to the meeting, wishing to avoid bloodshed at all costs. He waited the year and arrived with the people in tow at Gahl Hadran, the city of Terran Sah-lie.

The city had largely been constructed by magic and it offered it a supernatural architecture befitting its leaders. There were five ringed walls in the city, each getting smaller as they got to the center where a castle sat that held the twelve. The walls had large and narrow spires that grew impossibly thin with a floating crystal hovering as it twirled over the point. It had white walls that shone in the sunlight, giving it a glowing effect. Its elegant terracotta roofs balanced the glow, absorbing the light and warming the rooms within.

Dolorel approached the outer city wall, its massive oak doors requiring four people to open just one. He pushed them open as a blade of grass bends to the wind. The people continued to follow despite his insistence that they don't in case of danger. Yet they still followed him through the front door into the first layer of the city. It was eerily quiet as the shops were dead, the houses empty and no life was in sight save for some large rats. It was a haunting sight, and the people finally stopped here and let Dolorel proceed as they rested within city walls.

Through each layer there was no change, each more quiet than the next as he faded from the sounds of the followers outside. When he arrived at the castle at the center unharmed, he was concerned, yet he thought it wise to make a good first impression and remained amicable. He strolled in with a grin on his face and thanked them for their hospitality. He began to cross the circular room where each of the twelve had a seat to look down on the accused. He cheerfully piped up about everyone getting what they wanted at the end of the day. No sooner than getting to the center of the room had he realized he had made a mistake, and it was too late to fix it. He was in the middle of a teleportation spell as he was cast to a layer of the Abyss, banished from this plane.

At the same time the people who had foolishly followed him were flanked on both sides as they sat between the fifth and fourth walls of the city. They were laid to slaughter as the soldiers tore through them in one deft pass from both sides. In moments they had ended the uprising in their land and restored their own power. It was swift and unseen, and the Imperil Council continued their rule of tyranny.

As the people in the city fell in line and the land around it settled, the citizens saw a golden age. Commerce went up as people returned to their jobs at full capacity for the first time in nearly three hundred years. The people were happy to return to their lives of subjugation at this point as the will to fight had left with Dolorel.

During this time there was also a lot of magical advancement. Included among their skills became interplanar travel and they used it to send military parties out to search these planes. They stripped the land for resources and brought in an enslaved labor force to add to production. Their iron hand now reached into other neighboring worlds and threatened the lives of many more.

With Dolorel out of the way, the twelve moved their attention to the Coven of Matern. They declared them war criminals and disavowed them. They sent their army out to find them, though the Coven of Matern was largely on the neighboring world Battle-Ground by now. It still didn't help the cause, however the twelve believed they had struck a bigger blow than they truly had.

They expand their military, starting a draft and bringing in civilians onto their former private military force. The economic effort had been to equip and rearm the forces for the coming war. The forces of Gahl Hadran were brimming throughout the city as they reached critical numbers. As the military might grew and people adjusted to their new, totalitarian lives, rumors began to brew in the streets again. The word was that a massive war was brewing on the horizon, an enemy was set to invade that scared even the twelve who had put down Dolorel not too long ago. The council tried to squash these rumors as they appeared, crushing those that uttered the words or suggested it as possible. They consolidated their forces in Gahl Hadran as the city sat with bristling defenses.

The tensions rose in the city as time went on. The rumors continued to spread like wildfire, some even saying it was Dolorel coming back to save them. After he went to his meeting no one knew where he had gone and it only raised tensions more. However, the army was so impressive the people felt at ease as they went about their day, knowing they were thoroughly protected.

One day, a day not unlike any other, there was the loud sound of tearing. It sounded like a shirt being ripped apart but at a higher pitch. It was shrill and piercing and got everyone's attention in the city. As they heard the sound, they could see a rift in the sky split, a hole being torn open in their world. The sky turned a murky, mucusy green as black clouds rolled in. Lightning struck furiously as the Abyss poisoned the whole plane of Terran Sah-lie. Through the hole poured demons of all kinds set on poisoning this land with their hate and tourture. With them came a figure flying on wings of bone. His face was still young and handsome but blackened by the Abyss. He wore a cloak of shadows as his glowing red eyes peered out from the darkness of the rift. The figure resembled a humanoid, an angel of sorts, his wings a molting and bare sight, thick black ooze dripping from the blackened bones of the wings. His skin is a sickly grey, his hair long and thinning. His eyes a burning sickly green overflowing with energy.

He had been cast into the Abyss which was sure death for any normal mortal, however Dolorel was no normal human. He was powerful enough to fend off the lesser demons of the Abyss, all the while seething in rage at the twelve for their cowardice, treachery and evil ways and at himself for being naive and foolish. He used his rage as a motivator, which only opened the door for the Abyss to poison him. The more and more demons he killed, the more the anger grew and the more the poison took hold. It blackened his soul, altering his state of mind and warping his sense of reality. He was a volatile being, capable of unknowable violence and he rose to the power of the demon prince of his layer, though he was too far gone to truly assume the title.

He had amassed his armies of endless hungry, chaotic, demonic hordes and used the power he found in the Abyss to tear a rift and get back to Terran Sah-lie. His path of destruction was complete. Gahl Hadran was levelled to the dirt, including its inhabitants. His throngs of demons took every last citizen while Dolorel himself marched the steps to the castle in the center. As he walked, the walls crumbled around him. His bony wings reached out with incredible strength as he walked, carving deep grooves in his wake all along the rubble and ground. His steps were slow and precise, a calculated walk of an executioner who enjoys his work. The twelve stood no chance even in their combined might, though he did not kill them. Instead, he corrupted them after bringing the Abyss to their world, effectively joining it to his plane. Despite the poison of the Abyss it took none of his potent cunning, and he enslaved the twelve so that they could be his tortured pawns, subjects of his for all eternity to serve his every cruel intent.

In a last effort to free the people from their innocent suffering, the Coven of Matern had been leading secret evacuations out of the city and, with the Arcanum Council's help, brought many of its inhabitants to Battle-Ground before the demons took all that was left. They continued evacuations until they couldn't risk it any longer and sealed the rifts that lead to Terran Sah-lie as a means of hiding it from Dolorel, The Vengful Savior.

The world was safe for many years, however nothing escapes Dolorel’s rage, not even the world of Pan-tyrel.