Gash of the Blissful Agony (campaign)

Originally an angel from the Dominion order, Dœghaar was an angel of promise, a creature of radiating divinity. When the day came that the Throne declared that all the hosts of heaven were to love his newest creation, even above themselves, Dœghaar was originally curious of these new beings. He was distraught when Adam and Eve were banished from the garden, but his spirits were lifted when he was granted the rank of Dominion over an nation of humans. His obsession with these strange beings and their interpersonal interactions soon became an obsession for the high one, who yearned to know what they felt. This reached it's crescendo when Dœghaar witnessed first the wooing of a young couple and eventually their coitus. Unable to divorce the feelings of longing from his mind, he sought to gain answers from the God-Tyrant himself, only to be rebuked by the Being's apathetic answer that he and those like him were never meant to be party to such knowledge.

Aggrieved but not distraught, Dœghaar set about enacting his own plans to obtain this carnal knowledge that had so enraptured his mind. By disguising himself as a human, he went about living the life of a human. He drank, he laughed, and chiefly he loves. But when the powers that be discovered his flagrant unorthodox activities, a host of angels were sent to retrieve him and bring him before the Throne for judgement. Either seeking to defend the mortals under his command or to forstall his judgement, Dœghaar, in an act of defiance slaughtered his angelic jailers and plunged back to the Earth. His form was radiant as it burned, he heat and impact of which annihilated the land over which his now slain charges had once walked.

He fell for years, centuries, millennia. All he could feel on the descent was pain and loss. The timeless void he created in his now shattered mind breaching reality and all too briefly, allowing him to obtain transcendence. When he finally struck ground again, his August form shattered into millions of pieces, and everything went black.

When again there was light, he immediately knew he was no longer the same. Reality did not flash back into being the moment he opened his singed eyes, but rather bled back into focus slowly. By the time he was aware of his surroundings, he was being plunged into battle. By the time he could recall his own name, foreign and alien as it now seemed to him, he was at the head of armies. And on and on and on it went. Never truly ruling in Hell, but a humble servant who, on occasion, drew satisfaction from besting and violating the enemy.

Growing increasingly irritable at the ineptitude of his subservient thralls as well as the monotony of his own hellish existence, Dœghaar began seeking any way out. Any way back to that feeling of transcendent overstimulation he felt so long ago. Opportunity would present itself to him one day in the form of a twisted but still beautiful soul maiden, the First Mother, Lilith. She revealed that there would be a battle not far off, and that if he were to ally himself with her, then she would reward him in more ways than he could imagine. Desperate to escape his fate, but still weary of the soul-turned-demon's intentions, he acquiesced.

When the time came, he withheld his troops from battle and in doing so, guaranteed Lilith's rise to Queen of all the fallen Lord's lands. For his actions, she granted him the lands over which the apocryphal battle took place. Upon the flesh Hill he and his armies sat to oversee the battle, he constructed his monastery, a fell keep in which he and those of his order sought apotheosis through flesh.

But as time wore on, Dœghaar came to the horrible realization that his enslavement had not ended, he had merely switched the iron chains of one master for the gilded velvet chains of another, and Lilith proved to be no less a demanding Mistress then his former master had been. Constantly his meditations were interrupted for him to lead another warband on his mistress's name against some new foe, or to claim some new soul damned eternal to their now shared realm.

And so it was until the day came when Dœghaar came across some slight desperate hope for reprieve. Lost in an ancient dusty tome deep within the newly pilfered contents of his library lay a grimoire wherein contained instructions for an archaic blood ritual, one requiring the blood of the Divine. And so when his mistress came to him to once again call him to war, he readily accepted. For this time, he knew that completing his mission could be the key not just to his freedom, but to his ascension.

Pleasure's Kiss (ophidian rifle), Leviathan's Fang (Hellblade), (Slightly Used) Skull of the Marquis (Unholy Relic)

"By way of pain, one arrives at pleasure."

Once a mortal of moderate nobility, he received what to many would have been a fairly normal upbringing, at least until he struck a princeling and was banished in disgrace. After a long line of being passed around from relative to relative, the young boy was eventually foisted into a boarding school. Between the rigid hierarchy, daily beatings, and other cruel forms of corporal punishment, dark appetites began to gnaw at his soul like the maws of hungry braying hounds. But where many would have simply given into their baser instincts and wontonly reduce themselves to the level of witless beasts, d'Sæyz sought instead to understand the feelings that so enraptured him. Through the pain he inflicted upon both his playthings as well as himself, he strove to achieved apotheosis. He sought to reach the ultimate understanding of the sin of lust.

As his passions consumed his life, his written wisdom, long sought to be suppressed by the church, ran wild like taint through groundwater. They illustrated not just delectable debauchery and the sins of flesh, but sought to use logic to deconstruct the very idea of morality, good & evil, all in spite of the tyrant God himself. Such were the blasphemies of this hellbound wretch that he was condemned for his crimes innumerable times, only to escape justice time and time again.

When death did eventually find this deviant, he was half mad and rotting in an asylum with his lover. And despite receiving a Christian burial on the grounds, his fetid soul was condemned to Hell none the less. Waking up naked, battered, and baring the telltale flayed visage of the souls of the 2nd circle, fate, it seemed, had finally caught up with him. But before he could be buffeted and scoured by the freezing gales and join the frozen crystalline particles of the soul-sands of Gehenna, he was spared by the liege lady of Lust herself.

Born anew as a champion in service to Lilith, a reward for his life of perversion that outlasts him to this day. He fought, he assassinated, he corrupted and profaned. He even liberated his own skull from his grave to use an unholy relic to his aberrations. Truly, he served his mistress faithfully as one like him ever could. Needless to say, it wasn't enough. As the once mortal champion continued his heretical devotion to the exploration into the furthest regions of experience, he inevitably ran afoul of the internecine Machiavellians in the Lady's Court. Appalled by the presence of a mere mortal, their resentment for the upjumped soul led to his downfall.

Accused of some impropriety, and having long since fallen out of Lilith's eye, his fate was sealed. In recognition of the evils he had committed in her service, pre and post damnation, his pitiful life was spared. Instead, he was to receive a fate worse than death. His flesh, once rippling with grids of thick live nerves, was folded, shunted, and crammed within a suit of infernal iron armor, scarcely larger than his old mortal body had been. Forever cut off from the sensation he craved so desperately, his already damaged mind shattered. Now, he remembers not but the pain he once inflicted upon his victims and the faintest whisp of the delectable feelings his tortures would illicit, driving him ever onward like a moth to a guttering flame.

Bastard's Spawn (Hellblade)

Pity the bastard princess born to be a saintly queen. Her very existence born, forged, and tempered in lust. Born the bastard daughter to a man who would be Pope and his teenaged mistress, she would be hailed as the Flower of Rome. And oh, such plans her holy father had for her. Married off to a Lord x4 her age when she was scarcely a woman, this marriage would prove anything but happy. The Lord was impotent and cruel, and in his ire would take to beating and forcing himself upon her. And it was here, in blood and pain Sanna Lūkrez became a woman. When she became pregnant by the Lord, she took to fever. And it was in the throes of malady that she took council in demons and spirits it is said. And in her darkest hour, one answered: Lilith. The First Mother answered this soon-to-be mother, who beseeched her to free her from the burden of barring her tormenters offspring. And the Lady accepted. Her sole condition being to spend a night of her chosing in the young girls body, to experience the mortal realm once again.

And so the bargain was struck, and the child lost. The pain was great. The agony of what she has done was greater still. Though she would escape this turbulent matrimony, her father, ever the Machiavellian, would see her married a further 5 times. Despite her many unions, her love was reserved for but one man: her older brother, Cesarè. He had been her only friend in childhood, and now he remained ever her stalwart defender in adulthood. He had been sent away to lead the papal forces as war cardinal on the Vicor of Christ's orders, and Lūkrez was besides herself with grief. Alone for truly the first time in her life, and having lost yet another child in the crib, she pledged to give herself to the betterment of the city.

And here she remained, building orphanages for the wretched war orphans that migrated into the city, managing soup kitchens for those left homeless or cripples by the ravages of the war, and even manipulating an invading horde of heretics away from the city. And indeed, if her story had ended here, she would have ascended to the kingdom of heaven and been canonized a saint for her efforts. But unfortunately, it did not.

After a particularly tumultuous campaign against the forces of Eligos on his rise to serpent Head of Pride culminating in a disastrous siege of Rijeka, Cesare returned from the front badly wounded. Making her way to her brother's bedside, Lūkrez vowed to personally oversee her brothers care. And thought he made great progress in his recovery, and although outwardly she was overjoyed at his return, old thoughts and old demons began to bubble up back to the surface. And then, She came back. In the evening twilight, Lilith appeared before her, coming to claim her end of the bargain struck so long ago. Taking control of her body from her, the Lady of Hell lead the poor young woman to her brother's bed, where she made Sanna Lūkrez act upon her deepest desires against her will and in doing so was damned. When the sun rose the next day, the Lady was gone, but the shame and passion of their sin remained. So strong was it that it drove Cesare back into battle against the automaton armies of Hell, until he was struck low by one of the constructs. As he lay dying in his sister's arms, inconsolable, she once again prayed to the Lady Lilith to save the life of her brother even at the price of her life instead. And the Lady once again, accepted.

And so she was damned once again. Her soul ripped from her ravaged body by hellhounds and dragged to the fiefdom of Lilith in the 3rd circle. When she again opened her eyes, she discovered to her horror that she had been transformed into a monstrous golem made of flesh, flesh she came to learn had been sourced from not only her brother (who had taken his own life upon learning of her passing), but of their unborn child too.

Now damned eternally, her new ungodly form is kept as a trophy to the victorious Queen of Hell, lent out only to war a few warbands that prove of service to Lilith. For now, she is sent out as a powerful talisman to the Hellpriest and his Gash in their quest to recover the infamous Crown of Thorns.

A verminous beast of the Pit, it's original angelic name lost to the sands of time. None remember how it fell, even the Moribund itself. But the beast's loyalty has ingratiated itself to its deviant overlords, who's intense yearning for love through submission sees them put loyalty above all else. The monster has proven a bountiful boon to the Gash, however, as it's proven to be adept at retrieval of some of the orders more transient playthings as well as providing it's venom for the creation of the orders dreaded aphrodisiacs and concoctions. As a former high one blessed by the Throne with the knowledge of creation, this abomination's twisted mind swirls with half remembered blood red truths that now serve only to torment the ruined creature; a feast of suffering it's handlers find ecstacy inducing.

Cat o'nerves (torture instruments)

Called "The Scourge" by the damned it tends to like fell livestock, so named for it's vulgar fondness for whipping souls to pulp whilst it grows visibly aroused by the pain it elicits. Picked from its herd at random, its blunted mind is capable only of registering the pain it causes in the no man's land. A fact for which has earned it a close watch from its masters and an even tighter leash.

Tug-Tug (arquebus)

More capable then most of its twisted kind. Trggyx, called The Flenser by those unfortunate damned under its stewardship, was noticed immediately upon its birth by the overfiends that delivered it. It was born gnawing on its own knotted umbilical cord. When it was marked with the runes of its fell patron, it did not scream out in pain but rather moaned in sublime ecstacy, even deftly fondling the raw gaping wounds. Whereas most yoke fiends are simple creatures, inflicting pain as a means to forget their own, Trggyx seemed to have a childlike fascination with the feelings it elicited from its charges, watching intently at every writhing jerk and spasm. While still a yoke fiend and therefore permanently a monster bound by its own ineptitude, this slight edge over its peers saw it's resident runt handler present it to the monastic overlords of the Great Monastery of the Flesh. Working their foul magiks upon its brain, Trggyx came away even more of a frothing-at-the-mouth beast, driven eternally forward by the invisible lash of its own fiendish cravings.

Named for the most wretched creature born of the sins of the flesh, this pitiful creature came almost willingly to it's depraved masters. Reduced to the level of a loyal beast, it's mind is broken beyond repair by the sights it has seen and suffered, only it's body remains of any use to the fiends that hold it's leash. It is not unique. It is not important. It will not be missed.