Smoke. Fire. Rust. Ruin. Lacerandam is an endless plain of flame and molten metal. It is what some in Aurae believe to be Hell. A place where wicked souls go when their physical vessels die. The truth, is, the unlucky are simply born here. As far as the eye can see, figures writhe in agony, suspended from chains that ascend infinitely into the white-hot sky above. Chains that terminate in wicked, barbed hooks. Somewhere in this limitless expanse stands an impossibly tall spire of black glass. Atop this spire is a cage - a thousand miles long, a thousand miles high and a thousand miles wide. This cage is entirely devoted to inflicting pain and suffering on its residents. At the center of the cage, on the pinnacle of the spire, there sits a massive throne, made of rusted metal shards. And on that throne sits Carnifice.

Carnifice is the embodiment of rage. From the moment of His inception, He was suspicious of his siblings, and envious.

Jehovah, the Arrogant. Lilith, the Saboteur. Uthrasa, the Betrayer. Puer Hostiæ, the Mistake. Advena, the Unstable.

With his every attempt to create a place for Himself within the universe, scorn and mockery bellowed forth from the courts of His brethren. It wasn't that He didn't have the same ability as His siblings; it was as much a part of Him as it was Them. It was just that His every creation was born twisted, possibly as a result of being infused with Carnifice's poisonous rage. Since His Creator paid no heed to the creations It had wrought, Carnifice tried first to please His siblings. His inability to do so eventually soured His motives and hardened His heart. No matter what He attempted, His brothers and sisters remained aloof. He vowed instead to engineer Their destruction.

Despite His accusations, the others dispute that Carnifice had ever been mocked or treated unjustly. Uthrasa once theorized that Carnifice was the extension of Z'zhuul's alien anger (if indeed It feels such a thing). She mused once that He is a personification, a type of manifestation, and upon His very creation, these emotions boiled to the surface.

This resentment culminated when Carnifice was trumped one last time by Puer Hostiæ, the infant Excubia. Carnifice had brought fire to life and bursting with pride, He brought His creation to his siblings so They could shower him with praise. But in His moment of triumph, Puer Hostiæ wordlessly and effortlessly (and perhaps even inadvertently) created a true chimera - a being capable of shifting from one form to another at whim. This shapechanging wonder was met with appreciation by the other Excubiae, who all but ignored Carnifice's sentient flame.

Carnifice raised His hand against the babe and committed deicide.

He returned to Lacerandam in the ensuing confusion and sealed it away from His brethren.

He created armies. Terrible, tortured, seething armies filled with Carnifice's burning rage.

He created lieutenants. The black dragon, the boatman, the adopted Son of God and the army that followed him.

He created weapons. The scourge, to strike His enemies. The cloak, to protect Him. The brand, to drive His subjects before Him. The mask, to obscure Him.

Countless times, He has met Uthrasa on the field of battle. She finally noticed Him when He slayed Her precious little brother. Countless times, He has sent His subjects to sow discord in Aurae. The other Excubiae fret that Lilith is so close to unleashing The Great Nameless on Them. Let Her.

The Lord of Lacerandam will laugh behind His iron mask as His siblings fall. And those that survive will be too weak to withstand His final assault.