Those which have wings (and almost all the sighted ones have them) have wings spans on the order of 20’. In addition to their absolutely unbelievable fighting prowess, they are also powerful wielders of magical energy, and can be expected to toss lightning bolts and fireballs around with glee.
Arch-Demons have not been openly seen on the planes of men for nearly a thousand years. If any wizard knows the name of a class V demon, it surely must be one of the most closely guarded secrets in existence. Only the greatest wizards from ancient times were capable of summoning these dread beings, and even they did so with the greatest of trepidation. Since so few have been seen, little is known of what these beings look like, other than they surely must be horrors beyond description.
Demon Princes have never been known to have been seen on the planes of men. They have only been described to wizards as the absolute rulers of the Abyss. The other demons hold these unspeakable beings in such fear and dread that not even the gravest of tortures and punishments has ever induced any demon to divulge the name of a class VI demon.
A few unlucky beings in the last three millennia have reportedly managed, or been allowed to escape from unexpected visits to the Abyss where some have reported seeing the Unimaginably Hellish Palaces of these beings. The one or two who rumor states actually managed to see a Demon Prince were forever-after irrevocably insane. The power of such beings is incalculable but surely nearly rival to the lesser gods.
It is believed that the primary reason that no Demon Princes travel to the planes of men is that their manifestation requires so much mana that the resultant disruption would alert the gods and their avatars. Such an alert would likely trigger confrontations that would not be beneficial to any parties.
Chapter 32
It had been a tense ride. Gastropé wasn’t looking forward to his upcoming interview. Exador wasn’t known for patience with people who failed him. Gastropé’s only hope was to try and convince the wizard that he, Gastropé, had not failed in his part and had been in fact continuing to do his job. Not that he thought he had an incredible chance of success, but it was all he had.
The carpet finally came over the edge of the forest in sight of the school, or what should have been the school. Gastropé had to look twice. The force dome was gone, as was the school. In fact, as the carpet zoomed in closer and closer, it became apparent that there wasn’t much of anything left. Where the school had been was a giant crater, or almost a crater. It would have been a big round crater with a diameter of about a twenty minute horse ride, except for the far side, where a peninsula of normal plain jutted into the crater.
Within the crater, there was nothing. It looked like a barren grayish desert from the carpet’s altitude. The peninsula had Exador’s army camped upon it. But not the same army Gastropé had last seen. The army camped on the peninsula was literally the part of the army that had been camped on that piece of ground. The edges of the peninsula looked as if they’d been subjected to a great destructive fire. The center of the peninsula looked unharmed, physically. It did, however, look like a giant hospital zone though. What could have caused this sort of destruction?
It must have been, Gastropé thought, that brilliant flash of light and windstorm he’d noticed at sunset. He hadn’t paid it a whole lot of attention because he’d still been in shock from his encounter with the demon. At least, Gastropé thought, I’m not the only one who’s failed to succeed. The problem was that it was Exador’s failure. Gastropé had a bad feeling that any of Exador’s own failures would simply cause him to look even more harshly at others’. Thus it was with great trepidation on Gastropé’s part that the carpet landed with him and his two escorts.
They led him, one in front, the other in back, through the tents of wounded and apparently sick people to a man in a major’s uniform. “We found this guy, one Gastropé, wizard in our lord’s service, on the mountain pass to Freehold. Apparently the only one of our people to survive an ambush, laid by us, on a refugee wagon train.”
The major looked Gastropé over hard and finally said, “Very well, hold him here. His Excellency will probably want to see him shortly.” With that the man turned and went off to a large tent about four hundred feet away. Obviously the tent was Exador’s current headquarters.
It took several minutes, but eventually the major returned. “Bring him in.” He motioned for Gastropé’s escort to follow. Gastropé quickly began rehearsing the story he’d prepared on the few hours journey from where he’d been picked up.
As the major reached the tent, a guard standing beside it opened a flap for the major to enter. The major ducked and went in. Gastropé’s lead escort glanced back to make sure he was following and then went in himself. Gastropé’ bowed his head and entered the tent of Exador, a slight prayer on his lips.
His eyes had to adjust to the dark interior of the tent. He stood for a few moments getting his bearings, and had to be pushed forward by the soldier following him. The tent was lit by four glowing yellow globes suspended from the roof in each corner of the tent. The floor was covered in thick rich red Argonil Furs. At the far end of the tent was a large throne, positioned atop a raised platform and between two large glowing braziers.
On the throne, leaning back in a slouched position was Exador. His right hand hanging over the edge of the throne and resting on the top of his famous war helm. The large helm was on the floor beside the throne. Exador’s fingers were rhythmically tapping out a small beat of impatience. He was looking straight at Gastropé; his facial expression was that of studied nonchalance, but his eyes seemed to bore right into the depths of Gastropé’s frightened soul.
“What is your excuse?” Exador stated, rather than questioned, coming straight to the point.
Gastropé gulped, audibly, and stammered, “Um, gracious lord, we... ah.. we did everything as you ordered, just like you instructed. We, uhm, we laid ambush along all the possible routes of exit and waited. We really didn’t think it likely they’d come our way, but, but they did. So, we ambushed them, they had no warning. At first it went well, the fireballs took out several wagons. But...”
“But you failed me anyway,” Exador inserted impatiently, “why?”
“Lord they apparently had loaded this caravan with all of their most powerful wizards, suddenly lighting began to fall amongst our men, and then one of their lead wizards caused the very plants around me to rise up and halt my spells. They tried to strangle me, naturally I used counter measures, but the enemy wizard was too strong, at first. Eventually I broke free, but by this time it was too late... I... stepped out into sight to get a better view, and lord...” Gastropé’s face was pale with remembrance of the frightful scene.
“Spit it out already... what did you see!”
“Lord, all of our people... dead, horribly dead. Apparently Lenamare was with them, or something, they, somehow, in the heat of battle... well I don’t know for sure... but...”
“But what?... you are really beginning to try my patience.” Exador said testily.
Gastropé gathered himself together to make the unbelievable statement. “M’lord somehow they summoned an archdemon... at least fifth order or so, perhaps a demon prince... I don’t know how... all I know, is that I had to once again use all of my power and knowledge to escape it relatively unharmed,” Gastropé finished.