The spirits are my pawns. On this wasteland of filth, dirt, and corpses I reign supreme. To those who survive my onslaught they fight for nothing. It is all in vain. The very bodies they lose I harbor as my own. Mutations of the flesh with their mechanical wheels and brutish figures run my stores and currency. Headless beasts swing flails of rust at my enemies. Giants of skin and bone move across the plains of ash, devouring their recources. Mummified creatures stalk through the night, never sleeping, and always searching for their next victim. Hellish maidens with snake-like tails and electrified hair slither the streets, sewers, and tombs searching for the rebelious whereabouts. An endless sea of torture and burning brimstome is my home and I, the Hellbringer, sit atop my obsidian throne. For every life I take, another soul is added to my collection. As King I rule and as King I am God. Even the Angels bow before my might. No savior will come and no aid will follow.
This globe of filth is mine.
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