The Deal of Eternity
Disclaimer: Don't own squat. I was inspired by the movie 'Bedazzled' if this sounds a little familiar.
"Where are they?" a deep, monotone voice asks in the darkness. The room is lit by a dozen gold torches along the stone walls and yet there are shadows everywhere. "Demos," the voice says the name casually, belying the violent nature of the speaker.
The voice comes from the black marble throne in the room which is shaped like a long dragon circling upon itself for a nap. In front of the throne is a red carpet leading from the door to the Dragon's tail. Wide, open balconies let light from the outside into the room, effectively shrouding the throne in more darkness. In between the torches are tapestries depicting ancient, bloody battles. The master's work.
A stooped figure in a dark blue robe starts and turns around, towards the voice. "Yes Milord?"
The voice shifts on his black throne and swings one foot slowly. The voice asks, "Where are they?"
Demos bows low to the dragon throne and sputters out excuses. "My apologies Milord. They must be training in Erebus or perhaps Asphodel? I shall send for them immediately," Demos offers hurriedly.
The figure on the throne looks into a nearby torch and asks slowly, "Demos, what have I told you about making me wait?"
Demos cringes, lifts his head, studying his lord's face to judge his mood. Demos' scarred right cheek twitches as he perceives the impatience and boredom on the handsome face that usually heralds another trip to Purgatory for someone. Demos trembles as he hears screams punctuate the air, reminding him that he too may share the same fate at his master's whim. "My apologies Milord. It shall never happen..."
"Silence," the voice orders. "They come," he says simply and sits back on his throne.
Demos listens and hears the unmistakable wing flaps and growls of his master's favorite servants. He tries to not tremble at the sound and instead focuses on bowing before his lord, the King of Hell. Ass kissing works even in Hell.
Four figures enter through the open balcony, terrifying even to Hell's residents. Before the throne stands winged Chaos, demon of destruction, maniacal Hell Masker, demon of dementia, hulking Death Gigas, demon of malice, and vicious Galian, demon of mayhem. All four bow before the throne.
"You are late," the voice admonishes. The King of Hell rises from his throne to study his four generals. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," Chaos affirms and folds his wings. The other four scuffle and shift impatiently like hounds before a big hunt. Death Gigas punches a hole in the stone floor and Hellmasker's head turns completely on his neck. Saliva drips from Galian's mouth.
The King of Hell catches a drop on his finger and looks at it bored. "Then it is time for the final piece," he tells them. He turns his back to them and goes to sit on the Dragon's throne again. The King of Hell sits, folds one leg over the other and looks at his blood thirsty generals and the cowering Demos. "Now we only need the right pawn for everything to fall into place."