[Sambo]

The Oracle awoke from her slumber, haunted by the misty visages of time past. The death, destruction, and doom wrought by her commands weighed heavily, a lodestone on her mind. Memories of those who had defied her power flitted through her thoughts. The bones of the Ulmish, long cracked by the feet of her demon armies, as brittle as their plated armour and shields turned out to be. The C'tis lizard men, their flesh long consumed by her ravenous unholy maidens, their skulls now adorning her commanders' tents. The Celestial wizards, commanders and troops traded like undesirable pokemons, vanquished like smoke on a windy day. Giants of all shapes and sizes, from the misshapen cripples, to the frozen behemoths, to the man-eating warrior kings; all crumpled beneath her fiery gaze.

Exhausted, she sighed.

And the present? The wind warriors of the North, claiming dominance. Freakish beings rising from the ocean. Druids, claiming divinity. Greenland warriors, following the tide of battle. All destined to bow before her demon armies. Rivers of blood waited, a dam barely holding the arterial flow.

Yet she was tired; tired of the planning, tired of forging items for her unstoppable war machine, tired of plucking virgins from their families, tired of teleporting forces into the ocean by accident and watching them drown, tired of... war.

The future, clouded her mind, inscrutable through the gathering storms. The proposal from Vanheim intrigued her; a tournament of the gods! Was it a noble end to the war, or a cowardly submission to a greater power? Much to ponder.

She sent for her messenger, to give word to the gods of her intent.

Tell the rest of the gods, "Let's do this!"

Her champion, Demon King Kong, sharpened his blade. He had a month to prepare.