The towering, bulbous form is a bulwark of crimson flesh. Horns, black as onyx, crest its sloping forehead, curving forward to evoke the unnerving image of a sneering, skeletal ram. Pinpoints of hellfire—white-hot—peer from the hollows of the fiend’s eyes as it exhales smoke and steam, the stench of rot and refuse almost overwhelming. A pair of draconic wings unfurl from the malevolent prince’s back, the tattered membrane pallid and translucent. Chains draped with humanoid skulls clatter against the demon’s black plate armor as it steps forward on stout legs that end in hooves. It hefts a wicked-looking mace and looses an otherworldly roar.