Theski

The Burning Plane: Birth

A place filled with the most vile and unimaginable horrors known to man, this plane is aptly named for its looks. A world feeling and looking as if it were constantly on fire. Some believe it to be what mortals call “hell” but to the demons and miasma that spring from it, it is simply known as "home."

It remembers not how long it has been since it was born into that sickly place. When it fell from the great sky, down to the pool beneath the earth. When it pulled itself up from the inky blackness that lay in the realm’s center. It does not remember the oppressive pressure of the heat that greeted its arrival. It does not recall the face nor name of the thing that plucked it from the pelagic lurching void. Its memories have been lost for so long, the timeline between moments seems to swerve and loop and coil around itself nonsensically.
The one thing it will never forget is that rumbling voice. The seismic echos that brought to it its new name, for whatever it had been before was gone, washed away by a dirty sea of impurity and marred by imperfection. Eventually that murky tide had pulled back to reveal the treasure it'd spent so long to unpolish and unmake...

All that remained upon the shore was Theski.

Deal with the Devotee: Past

Foolish it was for a creature coated in pure impurity to dream of dreaming. For so long he tried to firght the emptiness that dared push his thoughts from his head, but the energy expended not worth the clarity. Yet here he stood, the mortal realm should feel like a breath of fresh air, yet it felt more at home to him than that sickly burning place had ever been. Perhaps that feeling of home is what led him to make a deal with that mortal witch… or perhaps it was something else about Blaise that compelled him to sign that hellish contract. A demon who yearned for affection with no heart to love, no mind to think, no stomach to satisfy and before him stood a deal that could give those things to him. To allow him the most intimate parts of mortality without the weakness he pitied mortals for. Blaise… yes... Blaise, a savior to deliver him from the life of eternal hunger that cursed all those reborn into The Burning Plane. All she asked was but a piece of his power, and a vital piece of himself he gave. A small price to pay to save oneself from the fate of eating oneself outside in, he thought...

In the time after he’d signed the deal with her, he yearned to be near her, her proximity intoxicating, her touch burning in a way not even fire could. For a brief period in time, their relationship had been so much more than patron and warlock...

Then the delusion of it all began to slip away the first time he dared venture back to The Burning Plane, or any other plane for that matter, only to find himself stuck. Blaise must not have cared for him when she bound him to the mortal realm, he rationalized. She’d exchanged his bonds of demonhood for the shackles of the material world. It ate at him much like how he ate at himself in the burning plane, but for once he was aware of it. It was painful to be an immaterial being in a material plane, but a whole new kind of pain to be aware of it. Aware of the painful snaps and cracks his body made with each move he made. Aware of the gross sickliness that coated his body and dragged along with each step he took. Aware of the tightness of his lungs with each breath he wheezed. It was dreadful, but now he held a new purpose..

inflict this suffering on the one who gave such false hope and whispered to him such sweet nothings. The one who's promises led to nothing but pain. Whose words were but hideous lies;
Blaise, the eternal witch...

Beware the Peaks

“...We had been on the mountain for several weeks before me and my men came upon it, unprepared for its destruction.
It is a demon roaming these blighted peaks without a doubt. It’s the face of black and the hide of man—legs of a goat and sinister tail of indiscernible origin. I could not see its face clearly. It yelled and screamed and laughed in a language we could not begin to comprehend. To call the experience hellish is an understatement. I am still plagued by the thing’s influence, as if taking my leg wasn’t enough for it, as if it aimed to see me suffer further. I have had my dreams infiltrated by its hideous screams and disgusting face ever since. Why it was on those hills, I do not know. But I do know that it is not natural. My only hope is that the Devil himself may come and reclaim his servant so that those blasted hills may know some semblance of peace after the land’s torment.
Heed my words future travellers, those peaks are not for man to roam anymore...”

-Exerpt interview of Alister Mudridge as seen in the book "Unexplained Happenings & True Ghoulish Tales" written by Cassidy Rock