There is a tale, long forgotten now. An old wives' story to frighten young hooligans. It has its words twisted to be a Happy Ending these days, but the original legend still remains fresh within the Infernal Planes. At least, it does in the form of a rumor; much like how mankind often attempts to prove the existence of the supernatural.

A man's soul had been enslaved to the pact of a warlock and his Fiendish patron, signed away in a time of desperation. He fights his battles in life, defeats the warlock, saves his soul, and lives happily ever after.

Or, does he?

What they don't tell the children is the truth. They never do. The truth is far, far more horrible.

A soul entering the Burning Hells is no uncommon thing, especially for the fiends that crave the despair of all things mortal. But upon one fiery crater, whatever had crawled out had long ago left its mortal coil like a cocoon. What emerged was a formless terror, unleashed upon the Raging Inferno like a plague.

What had started as a subtle and repeated occurrence was a man at one point, and with him he carried the burden of many forlorn souls. All of their despair, their fury, their outrage. He consumed it, filtered it, processed and melded it to his own twisted fabrication of whatever replaced his soul.

For what seemed as centuries, he wandered the Hellscape; challenged by Fiend and Demon alike. And so alike they fell in his wake, consumed and twisted and added to his legacy of power. His name had long since been forgotten, but his reputation held many titles.

'The Formless Nightmare.'
          'The Unbleached Bones.'
                            'The Bloodied Vassal.'

The list tarries on and on. Centuries, like battlefields, rage on and pass in endless cycles of time. Few claim to have seen this creature and live to boast. Those that do are often called liars, right before another battle breaks loose. Rumors pass on that this tormented creature has cut and clawed its wrathful swathe through the planes only to find its way back to the Material Plane. Rumors depict a different portrait, that this unknown spawn brokered a deal with one of the many Lords, Dukes, Princes, or King.

Whatever the truth is, the only proof of its existence in the Infernal Planes are the storied rumors, and the dead bodies buried deep beneath other fresh corpses.

                           ~~~~

Upon the Material Plane, life continues on as it has in the years. New faces are brought upon distant shores, lands of opportunity wrought with carnal desire. Off the planks of a ship, a man shoulders what little belongings he can claim and steps onto the dampened, brine-bleached cobblestones.

His walk is measured, a pace that brings him to wander in aimless circles in a city that never sleeps. Broad shoulders and a thickened physique shows a life of hardship, and perhaps something more when looking into the sullen glow of his eyes. The horns crowning his head are of no surprise to any, as tails and wings stride by from day to day.

Curious eyes do take in their surroundings, bewildered at how much the world has changed in their absence, an eerie luminescence haunting them to show their less than mortal nature with every word, every gesture, every passing glance to the denizens of Sinfarian culture.

"I think I might like it here...."

                            ~~~~

Thank you for reading thus far. More will be added at a later time. Player is "Tell Friendly" for any persons with questions.

If anyone would be kind enough to refer a WILLING artist for a more suitable portrait, please let me know!

Furthermore, this is a tribute to a dear friend no longer with us. So please, any negative commentary does not belong in my Tells. <3