The Kingdom of Demons was a pretty secluded place. Demonkind kept to themselves for the most part, only ever really interacting with the other races of the lands for trade or for travel. Seeing a demon outside of their lands, however, was always considered to be a sign of bad luck. Almost like crossing a black cat or breaking glass. The lack of interaction, and mostly the lack of knowledge of what they did within their land made the other races grow suspicious of them. Suspicion turned to angst and angst turned to fear. It didn’t take long for elves, humans, dwarves and other races to turn their swords and axes on Demonkind. Thanks to a traveling demon, those within their lands got a head start in fleeing. Some chose not to leave their homeland and instead bury themselves in hidden underground bases and live in the rubble of their once proud kingdom. Ter’doura was once such demon. His pride in his knowledge of magic and history helped influence him to stay.
Thunk. The box came down with a heavy sound, it’s sound echoing through the hustling tunnels. The Oni who carried it couldn’t help but let out an exasperated breath. For the last 12 hours, he had been helping civilians of the capital move their things down into the tunnels. The other kingdoms of the land were soon to be upon them and Ter’doura did not want to find out what carnage they would leave in their wake. He sat himself on the box he just carried and hung his head. “Gods damn it all…” he muttered softly to himself, passing a hand through his hair. He wasn’t one for war, but knew what prize would be won if he decided to fight: Death. Something he wished to stay very far from. He took some time sat before finally rising. “The work continues…” He left the rather thin tunnel he was in, walking out into the bright lights of a bustling underground metropolis being constructed. Men bore pickaxes and shovels, expanding the already large open clearing they stood in. Women ran frantically around, carrying bushe
