A Sanguinary Symphony Amidst the Fiends

As the Bringer of Ruin, I, Gruumsh, find solace among the denizens of the foulest planes, where even the most vile abominations tremble before my might. Recently, I ventured deep into the heart of Dis, seeking out the armies of Mammon, eager to dance upon the stage of carnage once more.

Grond, my blade of living fire, thrummed with anticipation, hungry for the blood of the gold-hoarding tyrant's minions. As I charged forth, their ranks parted like wheat before the scythe, the sickening squelch of shattered bones and burst organs accompanying each swing of my weapon.

With every stroke, I felt the pulse of the universe quicken, the rhythmic beat of dying hearts harmonizing with the clamour of steel. My eyes blazed with the fervent light of a thousand suns, illuminating the scene with the radiance of annihilation.

At last, I laid waste to the stronghold of Mammon himself, bathing in the golden riches of his treasury, drowning the cries of the fallen beneath the river of their coin. And though the filthy coins stained my flesh, I bore them proudly, trophies of my triumph over the weak and the greedy.