As the tusked victors howled over their triumph, a volcano thrust itself up nearby and vomited forth a sticky, acidic fluid that was both burning hot and sentient. The viscous tentacles that were spewed out quickly found and engulfed the now gibbering things that had devoured the behemothian monstrosity alive. The searing heat and burning acid had their own sport with the things, and then the plain was again relatively undisturbed. Vapors rose from the scarred place where the eruption had occurred, but even that was soon awash in a slimy lake of ichorous secretion.
Here was a place for demon wars. No king of the Abyss, no demon prince or great lord of Evil could work his will upon the stuff of Ojukalazogadit. The plane was itself a demon of sorts. It was uncontrolled, uncontrollable, and uncaring. Content in its madness to torment and devour itself, Ojukalazogadit heaved and pulsed, changed and re-formed, and quietly enjoyed its utter madness without caring, without feeling a need for revenge — for how can something avenge what it does to itself?
Either unaware or cunning In its insanity, the plane allowed vast armies to come upon it and do battle. And, of course, those not of it who caused it hurt would certainly pay for their deeds. Whether they were still alive or already dead, many of the interlopers would feed Ojukalazogadit before it permitted the survivors — if any — to depart.
This disgusting layer of chaos was also a gateway to many other strata of the abyssal realm. If counting downward made it three hundred sixty-six steps deep, that by no means meant that the law of orderly progression applied to it. Ojukalazogadit touched a dozen other layers firmly and impinged with varying degrees of tenuosity upon as many others. The eleventh and five hundred second were somehow firmly adjacent to it, as were other key strata seemingly above and below the reeking stretch of it. No other plane touched as many others in the whole realm. Thus, no other layer was so important in controlling the Abyss as Ojukalazogadit.
Into its very heart now marched a vast array from the deeper tiers that were the home place of demon-kind: a great mass of awesome proportion and terrible composition. Only demons could abide such a place, and they but for a short time. Nonetheless, march they did toward Ojukalazogadit. They came to conquer — not the place itself, but the other forces that had taken up temporary residence here, as if daring their foes to meet them on this most loathsome and important of battlegrounds.
A sudden cloud loomed on the sickly pale horizon, a blackness smudging the rotten orange atmosphere above. "Zubassu scouts, King Demogorgon!" a six-legged lizard-thing with human arms and a bat's head chittered as it peered into the distance. Obviously the demon didn't suffer poor vision, as its form might suggest. Its huge, dull red eyes evidently were very keen indeed.
"Attack them, fool — quickly!" said the left head of the towering Demogorgon, even as the right one barked orders to a squabbling flock of vulturelike demons that was clustered nearby.
Multiwinged wasp-demons swarmed upward with a hideous buzzing, heading directly for the approaching cloud of enemy zubassu, while the vultures stretched out snaky necks and beat their huge pinions in order to climb high into the dead-orange sky. From all along the front of the marching horde sprang other sorts of flying demons, some with such gross and bloated bodies, tiny wings, or other oddities that it seemed impossible for them to engage in aerial activity of any sort. Yet not only did they fly out and up, but soon the menagerie of monstrosities was battling fiercely with the thousands of four-winged zubassu demons. As bodies plummeted to the foul plain, whether singly or in tangled clusters still clawing and biting, the ground welcomed them. Wormheads formed to swallow the wounded combatants, or funnel-shaped holes suddenly gaped. Taloned, pawlike growths struggled forth to grab and pull down clusters of the fallen. Ojukalazogadit was already feeding well.
Despite the masses of opposing demons who arose to contend with the man-hawk zubassu, the latter were both fierce and more numerous. They flew over the advancing mass of nonflying foes in squadrons. Gouts of flame, jagged lightnings, thunderous explosions, searing streaks of pure energy, and other releases of magical forces made it seem as though a celebratory display of pyrotechnical virtuosity was in progress throughout the rotten, sickly orange sky. Even as scores of the four-winged scouts tumbled down burning, dismembered, half-vaporized, or simply as ashes, these demons repaid the compliment sent upward to greet them with similar, but less powerful, spectacular compliments. It seemed that even a miss was useful, however. To inflict a lightning stroke or gouting flame upon Ojukalazogadit was to ensure the instant demise of any creature near the wound, as mandible or tentacle, huge head or flopping hand suddenly appeared to seize repayment for the injury. The zubassu were soon in total rout, however, and only a tithe of their original multitude flapped over whence they had come.
"We have crushed them!" The boast was from the capering Mandrillagon, a monstrous, blue-faced parody of a mandrill. He was a mighty demon Indeed, with two strata under his heel. It was Mandrillagon's winged monkey-demons who had finished the pursuit of the fleeing zubassu.
"Fodder!" rumbled both of Demogorgon's heads. "Mere dung for spreading! Worse, many escaped. Now Graz'zt and his lickspittles will know our numbers, the composition of our masses," the heads of the massive demon snarled. Even Mandrillagon, blood kin and long ally of Demogorgon, quailed before the fury evident in the demon king's twin voices.
Mandrillagon's livid blue face wrinkled, baring massive fangs of filthy yellow-gray at the rebuke. This was not defiance on Mandrillagon's part, but simply a reflexive gesture. "We have no need to worry, my brother," he assured Demogorgon in a coughing, barking voice. "No enemy can stand before us. Never has such a horde as this been assembled!" That was true, and Demogorgon lashed his forked tail in acknowledgment of the statement.
A vast force of demons rolled across the disgusting plain that was Ojukalazogadit. On the left of the array were the mighty Var-Az-Hloo and Abraxas, each with an army of lesser demons. Demogorgon's headquarters and personal guard of snake-fish, toad-crabs, and lizard-slugs occupied the right flank. The central mass proper was commanded by Mandrillagon. This body of more than a million of all sorts of demons was the largest and certainly the most varied in the whole host that stretched for miles and miles across the flatness. It marched through pus and ordure, scum and bubbling excretions, heedless of all, even losses to predatious portions of the plain itself. Its tread shook even Ojukalazogadit's self as it squawked, screamed, fluttered, wiggled, hopped, and bounded along in a phantasmagorical symphony of hideousness.
Far away to the right rear was a smaller array. The two divisions that composed it were those of Zuggtmoy and her servitors and Szhublox and his lot of toadstool demons, amoeboid monsters, slimes, fungi, smut, rust, more slimes, blight, molds, and still more oozing slimes. Some hooted or puffed or burbled, but most were silent as they slid and lurched across the plain. Ojukalazogadit recoiled from their touch, so terrible were the demons and demonkin making up this force — not even a quarter-million strong, but so fearsome as to be dreaded. It came slowly, so it was effectively echeloned to the rear.
Lesser princes of the Abyss and a multitude of demon lords were scattered throughout the three great battles of the advancing horde. Telepathically and by various other means as well, they assured that the wild disarray of demons would obey orders to the limit of their ability. Of course, that simply meant that the vast hordes would move in the same direction and not tear each other to pieces. Such was the way of demoniacal warfare. With such a force as he had assembled and not marked against the actual person of the hated Graz'zt, Demogorgon was confident of an easy and total victory. Then he would assume the emperorship of the whole of the Abyss and deal with pretenders too. After Graz'zt came Orcus and Zuggtmoy.