Loud battle cries range throughout the tower as a man adorning armour of the fallen ripped through the demonic defences. One by one each fell at the blade of the man, their bodies torn by magic, skulls shattered by blunt artifacts of power, and his arrows tore through the damned like a quill on wet papper. Behind the man were three others adorning yellow chain mail armour with a black screeching eagle. The horrific walls coated in the blood of it's in inhabitants, giving it an even more unbelievable tone of despair and grim look. But for the four it wasn't a sign of terror but hope, hope that they could win against the fiendish beasts.
As they disrupted the natural order of the demonic realm a beaten bloodied devil layed in a cell broken and in chains. The cell was dark, littered with bones, and damp with thick puddles of blackish blood in random areas. Some from man, mer, beast, and other deadra. Deep cuts and scrapes littered his body like dust on an heirloom, and his once large set of horns now chipped and cracked from the endless amounts of torture given to him by his own kin and even his master. A large fresh gash was on his right side. A normal being would have died along time ago but he couldn't have such a luxury; for he was bound to this world like his kin. His torment would never truly end just briefly like a short day dream.
His eyes cracked open as he let out a groan, his sharp teeth clenched as he stirred in hopes of getting a better position to hear the commotion. The sounds were from above him, familiar yells, he knew them well. Yells of battle, but not just any battle cries, the ones belonging to the one responsible for all this. The man who humiliated him was near and his blood was fresh. Anger swell within the devil's chest as he suddenly gained the strength to stand. His face clenched in anger, the memories still fresh. He wasn't always a prisoner he was once a lieutenant of a hellish platoon of soldiers, but then He came along. He stormed the area killing his men and even his superior, leaving him broken, bloody, and near death. His failure wasn't excepted by his Godlike master and was greatly punished, but now he smelled the scent of revenge and the opportunity of falling back into his God's grace.
With every once of strength he pulled against the shackles and was greeted by the sound of metal firmly grinding and rattling. With one mighty yell he threw his frame with his arms shattering the shackles from the wall. He gave deep breaths as it admittedly took a lot more out of him than he would have liked. He staggered as he stood now free of shackles.