Glyphimhor, the Balor General of Orcusgate, stepped outside of his capital city and took flight over the Plains of Hunger. All around demons and undead cowered in his shadow, hoping to avoid the wrath of Orcus’s champion. Glyphimhor loved the feeling of the cold air soaring under his wings. He looked to his right at the four pillars of streaming souls that twisted out of the city of Lash Embarer and the snaking river Styx that led north.
Soaring over Lachrymosa and the Final Hills, he saw Orcus’s citadel, Everlost, towering in front of him, piercing out of the desolation of Thanatos’s northern wastes.
The Balor General slammed onto the ground, cracking the ancient stone of packed bone dust under his powerful hooves. The two Molydeus that guarded Everlost’s front door stepped back.
He walked through Everlost, listening to the screaming from below and hearing the whispers of Orcus’s personal servants as he entered the throne room. On the floor lay the massive primordial construct, Timesus the Black Star. Just looking at it made Glyphimhor nervous.
“Marvelous, isn’t he,” spoke the Prince of Undeath. Glyphimhor wasn’t sure he agreed with his lord.
“Elder Etharix is dead,” said Glyphimhor. “Killed during a ritual in Lash Embarer by the Shieldbashers. They apparently disrupted the Soulgrinder as well. We lost track of them after that.”
“I know,” said Orcus. “Gavix told me.” Glyphimhor hated the Glabrezou, Orcus’s ambassador and pet. He had hoped the Shieldbashers would have cut off his dog head in Lash Embarer. Orcus stood and walked over to Glpyhimhor. As massive as the Balor General was, his master still towered over him.
“It matters not. All is in hand.” Orcus laughed. Glyphimhor didn’t like the ease with which Orcus spoke of these matters. The slaying of his highest priest should not come so easily. Orcus seemed to see this in Glyphimhor’s eyes. “The human gamblers have an expression,” said Orcus. “When their money grows thin but they have a good hand of cards. They call it going ‘All In’. We’re going all in on this, Glyphimhor. We cannot turn back and what happens from here on out cannot stop what we have put in motion. In just a few days, Etharix’s death will not matter at all.”
“Nor will mine, I suppose,” said Glyphimhor. Orcus smiled at him.
“Now you begin to understand. Let me show you what commitment looks like.”
“I called you here to do something,” said Orcus as e walked over to a massive stone stained a deep red from centuries of bloodletting. “Something none of the others dare to do. Only you have the strength and the will to do it.” Orcus pointed down to Glyphimhor’s vorpal blade. Orcus placed his left forearm on the altar. For the first time in his long life, Glyphimhor understood what fear felt like.