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The Basalet however were not the worst to be faced upon Coroleya. With their great empire spanning much of the world, the hellions were blighted creatures with magical abilities that made them believe they were the one true race. Tall with skin made of blood red marble. They enslaved thousands, ruled an empire built of blood, and for centuries drained the souls of the weak. They were in essence the reason why the Lightbearer sought to come to this world. Desiring more souls to be sacrificed to their overlords, these mighty dekaram had travelled to many worlds using their foul magic and black towers to transport slaves to Coroleya. The dekaram they served and worshipped as higher beings were powerful beasts that were almost the equal of my lord in battle with powers that far outstripped our greatest heroes. Even with those gifted in the ways, we were hard pressed to face these beings that they called gods.

Luckily for us, the most powerful of their kind, a demonlord named Sezarath refused to partake in the war, and with the help of the humans, elves, werewolves, dwarves, orcs, and other races that had been transported into this world, we had the means of fielding greater armies trained in the Seven Forms. They were also blessed with new skills that came from their connection to the land and to the light.

But for years as we battled against the hosts of darkness, warriors unparalleled in the skills of warfare and magic, we bled.

As I marched north to help our beleaguered forces in what is now known as the Red Lands, I fought against creatures that could wipe out whole companies with a flick of their wrist, monstrous giants that could storm through our ranks leaving utter devastation in their wake, and immense winged beasts that flew on two wings that hurled fire. This and more we faced on a daily basis, and yet each day our troops continued to press southward in the largest mobilisation of armies ever seen in the world. Each of them was led by legendary warriors such as Harken Deathgrip, Leopold the Spear, and Priyal the Queen, all of them with years of experience in the field. The prize we paid for each advance however was heavy with the highest casualties being amongst my own troops who were sent into the worst of situations to face odds thrice our numbers. By the time I ended up in command, we had gone through half a dozen commanders, each one dying a more gruesome death before me. We were later named the Damned for we were damned to die the worst possible way, and yet as the campaign continued to wind it’s way down south, my warriors became experts in the ways of the dekaram. We learned how to harness the magic of Coroleya for ourselves and use it as a weapon. Much of that had to do with me. I am not proud of what I had done in the midst of war, but while fighting for survival we had come across starving dekaram on the road carrying wagon loads of jugs filled with a dark substance.

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Being thirsty and hungry, we slew the dekaram for meat, and drank the jugs without thinking, only to later realize that we could see the magical energy that made up the world. We had become something else, something far worse than the dekaram that existed here. We had drunk the basis of what makes up a soul in its purest form. The only explanation I can think of to compare it to, was to liken it to mana, but one that used the spirits of living creatures as power. It was the source of the dekaram’s unnatural abilities, and now we had partaken of this evil.

But instead of being reprimanded by the Lightbearer, he called it a necessary evil in order to defeat the monsters of this world. And thus, we were truly damned, not only in soul, but in body.

It took many weeks for us to perfect the formula that would allow us to digest the souls of our enemies, but once we did, the war had changed.