The Revolting One

The battle waged fiercely all about with neither side gaining the advantage. It was a literal battle of life and death, the necromatic forces of Arnzarel surging forward to smash against their weary living opponents. Only the choke-point where the living had set up their defenses prevented the undead for over running them. From up on high Arnzarel watched, his daughter Lilith by his side. The younger demonette spoke, her voice seductive but terrifying at the same time.
"Father, why don't you just smash the mortals? You have the power."
Arnzarel glanced at Lilith, smiling. His long tongue snaked from between his lips. This whole battle was for her benefit, waged so that he could teach her the finer points of combat.
"Sometimes allowing a fight to drag out is more beneficial, my dear Lilith," Arnzarel hissed.
"But, Father. Look at the mortals. They're winning."
Lilith pointed, directing Arnzarel's attention to the dwindling undead. It did indeed look as though the battle was winding to an end, the mortals having prevailed. The Revolting One smiled, a low rumbling chuckle echoing from his throat.
"And that is when we strike, Dear Daughter."
His hands began to glow.
"Their morale is now high. They think they defeated us. But it is only a sign that OUR victory is imminent."
Arnzarel pointed behind the mortal lines.
"See how in their triumph they forget the basic nature of their foes? They pile up their dead, ready to transport back to their homes for honorable burial. It is a classic mistake, and proof that these mortals deserve to die."
The words were no sooner spoken when Arnzarel vanished, reappearing in front of the mortal lines. The living cried out in shock. The Revolting One laughed, his eyes glowing. Once more the mortals formed up, prepared to fight. Their champion stepped forward summoning up all his strength to address the demon before him.
"You've lost, Arnzarel. Your army is destroyed. You cannot harm us any more."
Arnzarel tilted his head, amused at the boldness of the mortal's words. He glanced around, looking at the bodies strewn about and nodded.
"It would seem that you have crushed my army," he said with a sigh. "However that means nothing."
The Revolting One's hands glowed, his power radiating out.
"You see, that's the advantage of having an army of the dead. It's always growing with fresh recruits..."
Bodies reanimated, clambering back to their feet, and gathering up their weapons. The undead formed up and marched towards the mortal lines, eyes bright with bale-fire. From deep behind the living, the former heroes shuddered, The Revolting One's power infusing them. They to rose up. With a slow, deliberate step, they closed in on their former comrades, cold clammy hands reaching out to do the demon's bidding.

From up high, Lilith watched her father work, her demonic heart filled with pride and joy. To see him crush the mortals in both flesh and spirit was an inspiration to her. She closed her eyes and smiled, listening to the screams of the dying, matched in harmony by Arnzarel's laughter. Tonight they would all dine in Hell...



Arnzarel and Lilith belong to