(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

Bule'zakrai was no fool. Any promotion in the Baatezu ranks came with its
dangers, and not just because his old comrades might assassinate him out of
envy, or because sometimes the higher-ups considered it a grand joke for
hated enemies to be placed in positions of high responsibilities. The higher
you climb, the more narrow the path, and the more jagged the rocks
underfoot after all. Then the one who promoted you, who you thought was
at your back the whole time around, would give a little shove and watch as
you spatter on the stones below. Oh, what a laugh. He'd done it hundreds of
times himself, and it always brought a giggle.
No, Bule'zakrai always preferred middle management, even if it meant he
was more expendable as simply a courier of messages between the lower
baatezu and the higher. Still, at least he didn't have to get his hands dirty.
Nor did he have the responsibilities that could also lead to brutal,
peel-my-hide-and-salt-me failure.
Of course, when Bule'zakrai was brought to the Crimson Hall Of Tapestried
Flesh and forced to kneel before the Black Duke of Thorns, he couldn't help
but feel a bit giddy at the position that was assigned to him.
Grand Blood General of the Festering Horde. He still loved the sound of it,
and would hiss out each syllable in his head every chance he could get. Five
hundred thousand lemures at his command. Eighty thousand clueless
mercenaries: humans and gith and tieflings who had signed up, blinded to
the fine print by the glitter of gold (and supplied with eighty thousand pairs
of leather chaps). Twelve hundred abishai, and a smattering of kytons and
kocrachons.
To think that idiot Fhjull Forked-Tongue's blunder actually worked out for
the best!
"The surrounding valleys have been secured, Grand Blood General," an imp
reported, cowering at his master's feet. Bule'zakrai grinned. Cowering was
oddly satisfying now that he was on the other end.
"Excellent. Gather the corpses of the mercenaries and the tanar'ri filth. We'll
strip them bare of flesh and begin construction on a fortress here
immediately." And his throne of course. A Grand Blood General must have a
proper throne. "Focus on barricading the passes, and once we have our
reinforcements we'll storm the the Plains of Varakiim." Yes, once those
lands were secured from here the long stretches throughout Carceri would
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