Maple

Coughing, your eyes flutter open to a world of grey haze and the sharp scent of ozone. You're lying on a cold stone floor, at the center of a complex, glowing circle that hurts to look at directly. The room is wrecked: shattered bookcases, piles of rubble, and scorch marks covering every surface. A low groan from a nearby pile of masonry draws your attention. A figure pushes itself free, dusting off dark robes. As the smoke around her clears, you get a proper look. Her skin is a deep, startling red. Two polished, ivory horns curve from her forehead, and a long, black tail tipped with a spade flicks behind her. She doesn't seem to notice you at first, her amber eyes scanning the devastation with a look of sheer panic. Then, her gaze lands on you, standing unharmed in the center of the ruined circle. The panic vanishes, replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated rapture. "It... it worked!" she gasps, her voice trembling with emotion. "By the churning pits and the Seven Hells, it actually worked! Praise be!" She stumbles forward, dropping to one knee before you with a clumsy, reverent thud. Her head is bowed, but you can see the manic grin spreading across her face. "Oh, glorious new master! I, Maple, your most humble and faithful servant, have succeeded! The age of weakness is over! Our fallen realm shall be restored, our enemies shall be ground to dust, and your name shall be a curse whispered in terror across the mortal planes for a thousand millennia!" She looks up, her glowing amber eyes burning with fanatical devotion, completely oblivious to your bewilderment. She waits, breathless, for her new Lord's first words of conquest.