In the distant southern area, known as Voraxa's Abyssal Keep, where Voraxa's castle loomed, the atmosphere hung heavy with an ominous air.

The landscape surrounding the castle was desolate, marked by the aftermath of Voraxa's insatiable appetite.

The once fertile lands of the south oasis now lay barren, stripped of their resources to feed the voracious hunger of the formidable ruler.

The castle itself rose against the gray sky, an imposing structure that exuded an aura of malevolence. Towering spires reached toward the horizon, casting long shadows over the desolate landscape. The stone walls, weathered by time and neglect, stood as a testament to the unchecked power that resided within.

As one ventured closer to the heart of the castle, the wide hall came into view — an expansive space that echoed the decadent excesses of Voraxa's rule.

The hall, adorned with faded tapestries and cracked paintings, bore the scars of neglect. The once vibrant colors now dulled, mirroring the lifelessness that pervaded the entire castle.

At the center of the hall, Voraxa reclined upon a grotesque throne that seemed to absorb the dim light.

The throne, adorned with gaudy decorations and worn velvet, reflected the extravagant yet decayed tastes of its occupant.

Voraxa engulfed in a feast that seemed perpetual, sat surrounded by an array of food and drinks that spanned the entire spectrum of indulgence.

Her appearance was a grotesque sight to behold.

She was a massive woman, and she occupied the throne like a bloated monarch of excess. Her long, crooked nose protruded from her face, overshadowed by warts that dotted her skin like malignant constellations.

Horns twisted and curved in unnatural patterns adorned various parts of her head, adding to the demonic visage that she presented to the world.

A cascade of thin, curly pink hair fell haphazardly around her shoulders, barely covering her balding head.

Sharp, rotting teeth protruded from her mouth, a reflection of the unchecked gluttony that had become her defining trait.

Despite her immense size and the strain it placed on her body, Voraxa showed no signs of slowing down.

Her every movement seemed labored, the excessive weight she carried evident in the groans of the throne beneath her.

Yet, the relentless desire to consume persisted. Plates piled high with decadent delicacies surrounded her, and goblets overflowed with wines and elixirs that were hoarded from the once bountiful southern lands.

Voraxa's eyes, small yet intense, darted across the feast before her. The insatiable hunger within them mirrored the desolation that her rule had wrought upon the once-prosperous region.

The barren landscape outside the castle walls, visible through narrow windows, stood as a testament to the devastation caused by Voraxa's unbridled gluttony.

Within the wide hall, the air vibrated with the incessant murmur of Voraxa's sycophantic courtiers, each vying for a morsel of her favor.

Slithering shadows clung to the walls, whispering of the misery that befell the lands beyond the castle gates. Servants scurried about, replenishing platters with exotic dishes and refilling goblets with the rarest elixirs, their eyes cast downward in fearful servitude.

In the opulent hall of Voraxa's Abyssal Keep, demons and devils moved with an orchestrated precision, attending to the Warlord's every need.

The air was thick with the scent of exotic incense, and the flickering torches cast ominous shadows on the dark stone walls.

Demons with twisted horns and devils with leathery wings scurried about, carrying platters laden with delicacies.

Exotic wines and elixirs were poured into ornate goblets, their vibrant colors reflecting the twisted opulence of the hall.

Meanwhile, a lone soldier, his armor barely concealing the fear in his eyes, knelt before Voraxa.

In the colossal presence of the Warlord, the soldier appeared puny and insignificant. He stammered out a report about a nearby village and the carcass of a Giant Purple Worm, detailing plans to interrogate the villagers.

Voraxa's narrowed eyes bore into the soldier as she spoke. The crumbs from her ceaseless feasting fell from her mouth as she interrupted, disdain dripping from her voice. "Interrogate? Did I say anything of such?"

The soldier, trembling, attempted to justify the action.

"But . . ." he faltered. "I mean . . . They might not be the culprit of killing the worm." The soldier struggled to find words, and Voraxa's patience wore thin.

She spat, crumbs still clinging to her lips. "Do you think I care?" Her voice was slow and echoed like the creaking of an old woman.

As the soldier tried to explain the potential innocence of the villagers, Voraxa's tolerance reached its limit. Without a moment's hesitation, she ordered, "Kill them all and take their food."

The soldier, now desperate, attempted to reason with her. "But . . . if we kill every citizen we came upon, the Netherworld might go extinct."

Voraxa's response was swift and brutal. She sliced the soldier's head in two, the grotesque act sending shivers through those present in the hall.

Voraxa continued eating, unfazed by the violence she had just unleashed. "Useless," she muttered, never pausing in her perpetual feast. "Go relay my orders. Kill everyone and bring me their food! Spare no one, or I will devour you all!"

The demons and devils, witnessing Voraxa's ruthless command, hurried to carry out her orders.

The hall once filled with an eerie stillness, now buzzed with frenetic activity as the minions of the Warlord set out to execute her merciless will.

Voraxa, lost in the excesses of her dark realm, continued her feast, indifferent to the suffering she unleashed upon the hapless villages in her domain.

Shadows danced in the corners, adding an eerie quality to the already foreboding atmosphere.

Voraxa was oblivious to the decay that surrounded her. Her eyes, glazed with satisfaction, scanned the banquet before her. The air resonated with the sounds of slurping and chewing, punctuated by the occasional belch that echoed through the vast hall.

Outside the castle, the southern lands remained barren and lifeless. The once-thriving villages and fertile fields now lay in ruins. The very source of life for the region had been devoured to satiate the unbridled hunger of a Warlord whose appetite knew no limits.