#4 - THE ARCHDEMON CONGREGATE

The Butcher turned his head around to watch the mouth flapping insisting upon the enemy of the Turks for the leadership of a territory, and then some other stuff about acceptance, blah de blah blah blah blah. Truly forth information come and pour down his cranium fondling such thoughts of how magnanimously deserved such roles are, and if Belial's face could be seen, he smiled at the Count and nodded at the youth which no doubt all others are. By jolly what fun by jove is this.

Spasms were felt at the proclamation, a tinge of confusion, from within the mental scape that resided in the Mad Archon's very framework were the work of two as awakened the Knight from his sleep, slumber roused unto vigor. Filled with splendor and promise, nubile and youthful, whatever had occurred memories filled and flooded the dam of memories that which had belonged to the present. He let the Traitor Lord speak his ways, as he also nodded with gleefulness at the thought of going for genocides, there is sport in it after all, and war runs deep in Belial's black viscous and thick blood.

Belial(?) had nodded to Moloch, which was all he did, then started clapping to the proclamation, and by clapping, it was more like quakes with every clash of each palm against one another which echoed loudness, rumbling the flooring and inviting dust to fall from above. As of this point, symbiosis languished within the persona and the duo like a beautiful butterfly sprouted from within as no longer conflict had taken place within, for without it was louder.

"I have my doubts, a LOT of doubts, SO MANY DOUBTS, in fact, doubts a plenty that pile up in mountains, doubtfully I'd say I doubt my ability to not doubt. HAH! We need to wake Belgefatasswhore sometime, smack his lazy ass awake. I volunteer for the duty, just so long as most of him is not required... I may misplace his insides or two, whichever comes first, HAH." Belial's(?) feet rested against the table after saying his piece to Lucifer in his most soothing tongue(???), as he leaned back on his chair. Like tons, they slammed on the plates, cracking them and the table itself, his shaded face eyed Vlad, "Well then, spawn of Adam, as FORMER ambassador to the Turks, I shall very keenly watch your progress most closely... such a nubile, soft and young mud born like yourself needs the guidance of his seniors born of fire... yes... you shall prove most fitting, and supple, ripe for being taught the art of blood... and blood shall run deep, perhaps from yourself? Or perhaps from wherever, I CARE NOT. Ruling over those Nosferatu is but one feat, but to rule a realm is another matter, ENTIRELY. So by all means, kindly, visit my realm, alone, or with your entire cohorts of loyal subjects if it makes you feel more secure, SOMETIMES after this coronation, inauguration, whatever poncy title is used to refer to this event."

There was a pause. He was being nice to Vlad obviously. Yep. It's in his nature, as the King of Peace, Lord of Tolerance, Prince of Diplomacy. Indeed, those were his titles, for he is as peaceful as they come. He smiled underneath his helm, giving the most angelic smile he can were his visage ever exposed, but all for naught, for it shown only from the vision to those that observe, an uncaring shade where his face should be.

"Hrm... HRM.... HRRRRRRMMMM... MOLOCH, MY OATH BRETHREN BEFORE THE WENCHES, RELEASE THE KRAKEN... flavored ice cream. I am literally killing, not dying, to have one." Roared out the Lord of Warfare, as he spoke rather eloquently and with peaceful intent in his infernal speech throughout the tone of his message, at least the one prior to his address to Moloch, and rather the one to Vlad. Allegedly the descendant of Attila the Hun. Babies would sputter out crying were they here to hear his talk, as if grating upon the brain with hate, grudges, and all the evil, rage and anger one can muster, very unpleasant to hear, and not soothing like angelic. One of the cruder and more preferred tongues that Belial likes to speak in out of preference really. He slew the language of Angels for it was not for he, the ungentle one who prostates himself upon hind quarters wherever it dwells, be it with his fist or sword, or perhaps both. What fancy to he has no consequence to what shall be dealt with most verily.

"Careful what you swear upon, for if upon blood you swear, then by blood do you sow and reap." It sounded like he just hacked and coughed, as what whistled out of his helm were mumbled and unintelligible, looking at all those that sat upon these tables with designs perhaps upon the newly crowned ruler. The game was on.

Leviathan so enjoyed her father's theatrics. An ear grabbing "ERRBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP A MINUTE OKAY." often did the trick to silence anyone and even made Leviathan drop her fork in surprise. A bit of classic Lucifer humor, a rousing speech followed by her hands giving a light round of clapping, then a blood oath from the Count himself. Leviathan was very interested in this little bout between Father and her new brother, but with her mouth full of Old One thermidor, she couldn't say a word. Belial was yammering to Vlad about visits to his home and whatnot as she finished her food and placed her napkin down on the sheet. She slid out of the chair and stood, stretching her taught, brown muscles. The white satin skirt swayed with her gentle footsteps around the table over to the shelves of music. Lucifer's music style changed ever so much so there were often changing records around, especially in the cabinets.

"Vlad, brother, it would be wonderous if you would visit my Sea as well. I don't often have visitors and I do like a change of pace every once in a while. I'm sure you'd enjoy the view. It's like those human aquariums, glass boxes under the water, only a few inches between my children and them. It's a very...capturing feeling."  Leviathan found a nice vinyl inside, just a black sleeve with the word "Fancy" on it...Must be a mix vinyl or something. She didn't know WHY, then again she didn't know why she felt and did alot of the things she happened to, but she felt like dancing. None of that twerk bullshit. Something old, aged, refined...like a fine wine. She knew the highest shelf dance in the whole planet ever. Something passionate. Intimate. Spicy, even. Everything from the Latin world had spice to it.

Over to the record player she went, sliding the ebony disk out with delicate fingers and placing it on the top. There was a click as she turned on the device, the record beginning to spin. Her little finger lifted the needle down onto the record and was followed by the slight crackle of static then came a familiar song...from a musical of the not too distant past.


Levi's feet were already moving with notes around the table. Ahhh, tangoes, she loved them. Not as much as waltzes, but they let her showcase her flexibility. She remembered in the past, there have only been two family members that have ever danced with her. Moloch and Legion. Legion, gracefully passing her between the many he had brought to the Sea that day, was a fantastic experience. Moloch was a bit forceful, but being in those strong muscular arms, as well as being tossed several feet into the air was exhilirating and fun. It brought out an inner child in her; her mouth would spring into spry smiles and occasionally a coy giggle would pass her lips. She took the long way around to the open floor; around the entire table. She dragged petite fingers over the tops of every chair, seeing if her movements caught the interest of anyone at the table. Once she made it onto the floor, she did a graceful spin with her skirt making a fan around her as she faced the table poised with an outstreched hand.

For a moment, however, not even a split second, her smile and her entire carefree demeanor faultured. Levi had felt the sudden twinge of self-conciousness. What if no one wanted to dance? What if they did, but no one would dance with her? What if they all laughed at her? All these thoughts crept in and were then slapped out of her mind. This was her family and though she was not well-liked by most of them, she wouldn't let that get in the way of her fun. Her voice was smooth, harmonious with the music that bounded off the walls. "Would anyone care to dance?"

In due time after Asmodeus an archdemon that she had not seen in sometime strolled through the door with an air of majestic class. He was no monster, he didn't have horns, or wings, or even sharp teeth or blue skin. No, he appeared entirely mortal, save for his eyes, which glared a bright red. Demons had a funny way of not being able to mask that, for whatever reason. His human nature was not something to underestimate, as the Golden King held a fierce power: the control of gravity. Now, one may think of how such a ability could crush a bus or send their enemies into dismay, but instead the archsuccubus thought of something else. How many interesting positions could be taken up with such a power! Ones never possible before! She found herself gazing at Ba'al, before catching herself and pretending to look elsewhere, as if this where middle school, or something of that childish origin.

The next was no surprise, a she could be heard long before he marched in through those doors. The undisputed king of the Stylgian Tundra and the champion of frozen treats: Moloch the Devourer. It was not his demon form, as that would be somewhat of a trivial affair for such a monster, but his Mary Shelley esque mortal form, one that actually entertained the duchess of desire. After all, Frankenstein was one of her favorite books, quite evident by her many vile creations that walked her plane of dominance. Hardly demons anymore. The opposite of the bulky archdemon, who was so demonized that this form was the most human thing he could conjure up. The fall really had an ugly effect on some...but still, through the morbid appearance and slurred speech Asmodeus found beauty. Surely with that strength, and maybe with a little icicle inclusion...just maybe... "HELLO ASMO, YOU ARE LOOKING PRETTY TODAY!" Nevermind. Asmodeus' diamond-like nails dug into the table (a bit further than expected, due to their nature) as the newest arrived mentioned her by that heinous nickname. Her irritated look soon vanished; at least he was polite.

It was next that they walked in the door. Feeling the aura of many demons at once, Asmodeus shivered, further enforcing her complaint on the temperature. Legion, she never knew what to call h-them, the things. Therefore, she didn't pay them much attention, and nor did they to her, at least she thought. At least the Harbinger came nicely dressed, then again, they always do. It spoke brief words about wanting to arrive first, in which the Lustful chuckled at, having stolen this opportunity from them. Obviously, a night with the thing(s) that inspired Slenderman would be a load of fun, especially since it was many. Two thousand...too bad they were a load of buzzkill.

If the next paragraph could be omitted entirely and ignored, Asmodeus would have done that, but it is not her who types these words to you. The next demon to walk in would be the least favorite, the scum on the floor, that one girl. Well, to the archscubbus anyway, this was Mammon the Corrupter. But it wasn't the hideous Mammon that she knew all so well, it was a form she hadn't seen in ages, the one she held in heaven? Why would anybody wish to go back to those ugly roots? That, in itself, made the Lustful hate the greedy even more. She would at this point very briefly glance at Lucifer with eyes full of disgust, knowing that he was the only one that could grant her such a "gift". Was this some kind of fucking joke? Was it? Huh?!

"Asmodeus. You have as interesting a choice in attire as ever." The archbitch dared to speak to her? Showing none of this emotion whatsoever, Asmodeus only glanced in Mammon's general direction, not even bothering to directly look at her to get a good look at what she was wearing herself. She would then dig her nails into the thick meat of her meal, and bring it to her mouth, which opened up as wide as possible as she took a large ungraceful bite from it. Barely chewing her food, the archdevil looked at the Corrupter and placed her elbows on the table. "Whatever." Came forth a reply, with no intention of thanking the fake compliment, something that was rude in itself. She turned away again, wishing to pay no further attention to her self-made "nemesis".

The King of the Undercroft was the next to storm through the doors, not saying a word as he made his way to his flimsy seat, right next to the Lustful. He seemed to be donning the mask of the knight for this meal, or at least that's what it appeared to be, as his true persona could never be determined by his outward form. Regardless, as his massive form sat upon the chair, it torn into pieces in a show of his archdemonic power, and why he was the crowned master of metal. Now, that, that in itself made for an interesting after dark experience. And if what was underneath the shell was as intimidating and manly as the armor itself, well, now that would be exciting. The succubus would lean towards the archdemon and his newly formed throne in a flirtatious manner, before losing interest after Casul, once again, took no immediate notice of her advances. Typical fallen angelic host.

Next from the complex's ceiling came Beelzebub, the lord of flies and master of fire and fine cooking. Though, the archdemons more often called him Zeb, affectionately. He probably didn't just arrive, either, which made the Lustful feel a bit stupid for earlier laughing at Legion. Anyways. The lord of the Ashland was fairly bearable regardless, he didn't talk all that much, and that was always a plus, even if he edged on being called by that blasted nickname. Now that she thought about it, the succubus wasn't sure why she hated shortened names and titles, anyways. Maybe it was a memory from long ago, maybe something from heaven? Something old. Something forgotten. You know, perhaps Beelzebub wasn't only hot and cookin' in the kitchen. The princess of the Blightscape thought about his wall-crawling abilities briefly. Until she was interrupted.

And in strolled Leviathan, as if she was the demon of fucking pride herself. This obviously struck a bad note in the Overlord, who had claimed that title for himself, and held it with the highest of honors. When it came to her turn to be addressed, the archdemon simply replied with a quick "Charmed." As she ironically finished her meal with grace, using her silverware and consistently wiping her face, proving that earlier's sloppiness was just a charade to piss off the blood huntress. Her eyes, however, acted differently, as they instantly focused on the sea demon's breasts. My. Her mortal form was always something enjoyable, and something the Lustful would enjoy to keep around in her throne room for a night or two. Fuck it, why not her demon form, as well? Sea monsters needed lusting as well. Well, her true master and desire changed her attention back to him, as he commanded her to sit down. Power was far more enticing than any physical form.

And so he spoke, at last, addressing the assembled archdemons. "ERRBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP A MINUTE OKAY." Well, his word was law, and so it was to be listened to. "We're here, above all else, to do one thing, and one thing alone." She already knew what was to come: Elect Dracula as the new Ste-"We're here to get absolutely fucking plastered." Oh. That wasn't what she was expecting at all. But could anybody predict the Devil? No, she thought not. Regardless, getting "plastered" was part of her everyday schedule, and even if he had gathered her here to do that, there was always a deeper seed in Satan's plans. Just this time, she happened to know what flower it would bloom.

"This Demon is Vlad III Tepes, though you may well know him as Dracula, Count of the Nosferatu." Here it came. The announcement everybody had been waiting for. He began to rant about Belphegor, the only absent archdemon, and perhaps the worst of them all in bed. After all, he just laid there, and everybody knows that that wasn't any fun. Where was he, anyways? Right, sleeping, as usual. What a worthless sibling he was, even compared to Mammon, not even bothering to help out the others. It was probably too much work. "THIS IS NOT THE CASE!" Next the Devil recounted the Impaler's bloody tale, ending it at the duel that took place in her very stadium. One she could vouch for personally. Asmodeus took a sip from her likely alcoholic drink, something she needed, especially in the company of all these powerful and somewhat pestering forces.

"And this Demon knows himself now as your brother." Oh does he, now? His word was law, of course he does. Asmodeus sipped away, not being surprised by any of the news that she was already aware of. Though, the Lustful did focus on Lucifer, as he was the center of attention, as always, but also to avoid having to look at Mammon for too long. How stuck up. Powerful words slithered off the Overlord's tongue as he finished up his speech, announcing Dracula's new power. "To Vlad III Țepeș. To Drăcula. To the rightful Steward of the Entropic Chasm." Lord Dracula. The princess raised her glass and took a hefty drink, an applause to this most pleasurable addition to the cast. After it all, it was Asmodeus who first caught attention of the demon. Vlad next gave a well deserved speech, which the archdevil softly gave an applause to.

Moloch next spoke to the the vampire, congratulating him in his simple traditional manner, and then the previously thought to be knight revealed his nature as the butcher as he placed his feet upon the table and began to rant in an obscure madness. This, caused the succubus to cringe back a little, becoming a bit overwhelmed by the large archbros. Asmodeus clicked her heel on the ground, making a rather loud noise, and stood up, which caused her dress to fall down just a tad more. No longer would she be ignored at this event. Stretching her leathery wings and clearing her throat, the grandmother of the succubi finally spoke in full sentence, turning her yellowed eyes first to the Impaler, then to the others;

"For what it's worth, I personally, can vouch for this man." Her voice echoed in it's traditional manner, something that would touch even the minds and ears of archdemons, a set of vocals that was impossible to ignore. Leviathan, Ba'al, and Moloch. She looked directly across from her. "No, this is no longer a man, this is a demon." She didn't exactly hold the greatest passion in her voice, though. "Someone who would truly look in the face of fear and stab it in the eyes." Her eyes gazed back to Dracula, the point of her ego inflating speech. It was what she was best at; building people up through seduction and words, only to tear them down at their finest hour. She enjoyed creation just as much as she enjoyed destruction. Music began to play in the background. Tango? How fitting. "But he shouldn't let his desires get the best of him." Asmodeus spoke in a seductive tone, revealing a bit of malicious intention in her toast. Fluterring her bat like wings, she would sit back down and grab her drink once more, only to notice that it was now empty. Well, that was irritating. The succubus noticed that Leviathan had been the source of the music, who was now insisting that the group danced. It was a party, after all. The heartless one declined, however, only to look back at the Devil.

If she were to dance, she would be all his.

Lucifer was greeting each of them in turn as any good host would, each quip specialized towards that particular child and sibling to him.  Oooo that tap that dug into the table.... Asmodeus was not pleased by that nickname, was she?  Mammon made mental notes, wanting to cackle with glee at how upset she seemed by the simple fact she had attempted to speak to her.  It was rather amusing that she was so bothered by it!  "IT IS A PLEASURE TO SEE YOU AS WELL, MAM-MAM!"  Oh Moloch, he was as pleasant to be with as ever.  She really needed to remember to invite him over more often.  "Keep it in your pants, ladies, or take it outside,"  Her head turned slightly towards her Creator, golden eyes resting calmly upon him.  "Or, at least, save it for later. I'm sure the others would appreciate a good catfight."  She inwardly twitched though her face remained that perfect demure expression, chuckling slightly at the thought of a catfight.  Considering how she used to appear?  She wasn't sure if the joke was intentional or not.  [color=red"I know I would. But the night is young, my dears, so you can save your vying for my affection for a little later, please."[/color]  HAH!  As if she wouldn't behave.  She was on her best behavior tonight because of him and him alone.  He had to be aware of this fact, otherwise he knew her far lesser than she thought he did.  Wouldn't that be disappointing considering the eons they had known each other.  "Whatever."  Interesting.  No witty comment or slander against her.  Apparently her "sister" wished to not speak at all this evening.  Good.  That would be a huge burden off of her mind.  

One by one the rest of her brothers and sisters began to arrive.  Oddly enough, she was rather pleased and amused by Zeb's entrance as she observed the popsicle dangling between his lips.  "Hallo. I'm not apologizing."  Heh, yes... that was a normal response from him.  Oh fine, perhaps this wouldn't be as painful as she had expected it to be.  But then.... Leviathan arrived.  Mammon glanced towards the door with a single raised eyebrow, munching on another one of her sinew buns at the sorry excuse she had for being late.  Lucifer's response made her lips twist slightly into a smirk as she sipped quietly at her tea, feathery wings folding tighter to her back as her hair undulated slightly about her head from those slight motions.  "That is a form I haven't seen in ages. I had almost forgotten how good you looked in it. Excellent dress as well, sister."  Aww, now that was a sweet statement.  The Huntress smiled and bowed her head to her sibling, "Thank you dear."  Oh yes, she could sense how the eyebrows had raised at the sight of her new form.  And how Asmodeus had instantly looked at Lucifer as the cause of this shift.  She had wanted to appear worthy for her beloved Lord, and now she did.  Now they could stand beside each other in their natural forms (if he so chose to) and the familial resemblance would be as clear as crystal.  She was worthy now.  Asmodeus could continue digging her fingers into that steak and ripping it apart for all Mammon cared.  She would always lack class.  It was that simple.  

"ERRBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP A MINUTE OKAY."  Mammon paused as she held her glass, her hold head turning to look at him as he began to speak.  Apparently he was going to "enlighten" them to why they were there.  "We're here to get absolutely fucking plastered."  Pfft.  The Corrupter wanted to laugh!  That was hardly the reason, and they all knew it.  "That wasn't a joke, but in actuality, the reason we are here is for an occurrence that's not infact rare, but prior to this point in time, completely non-existent, ladies and gentlemen."  This should be good.  He continued to explain why it was that the dear Count had been asked to come here this particular event, and why there had been that tacky sign in front of the elevator when they had all arrived.  "And we know not for how longer he shall. But under his drowsy rest, the Chasm sees itself unruled; the power of we Princes there is challenge. Over a thousand years and change the wicked tendrils of doubt have slipped into the people as they believe we are, for the first time in eons past, slacking."  Her eyebrow raised as her wings ruffled slightly, slacking?  The Hell Princes?  She could certainly believe that some of her siblings had been (though she was well aware she never bothered to pay much attention to them anyways so who even knew at this point), but her own actions?  Although it was true that few would have known that it was Mammon who had led them into so many genocides and bloodshed.  She was surprised that she and Belial hadn't encountered each other amidst their various plans.  If that was her slacking, then she needed to step up her game.  

But it became quickly apparent that the Count was now to be her brother, for which her golden eyes rested upon her former guest to her realm.  Her lips twisted into a smile as she raised her teacup with the rest of the toast though she only stared at her new sibling.  "To Vlad III Tepes. To Dracula. To the rightful Steward of the Entropic Chasm."  Oh what a stroke to the dear Count's ego.  Her tea burned hot as it rolled down her throat, the smallest hint of crimson swirling into her eyes before vanishing once more.  Very well, perhaps... she would invite him over for another visit after this event so she could speak to him.  Perhaps.  The meeting itself may prove itself to be rather boring for it seemed that there were aspects to her that he found distasteful, or at least that was the sense she had gotten upon their meeting before.  But what was more important was that she didn't hate him.  In fact, she had rather enjoyed their hunt together.  So for him to now be her brother?  That made him the third sibling she would speak to on a regular basis.  Or actually attempt to talk to.  Ah but the Count was rising now, her teacup lowering back down into its saucer as she chewed thoughtfully upon another sinew bun.

He began strong as was to be expected.  The words of his speech sliding easily through her mind as she sat there for the most part still except for the occasional fresh nomming on sinew buns.  She was enjoying taking her time with the little delicacies especially since her dearest one had gone so such lengths to provide a variety of them for her.  Her gaze had drifted now from sibling to sibling to observe their reaction to the current events and so far she wasn't surprised by any of them.  "Thus, I swear on my very blood,"  Her ears perked up as those golden orbs slid back over to the revitalized Dracula.  "That I will rule the Entropic Chasm to the fullest extent of my power until Lord Belphegor awakens."  The expression upon her features was neutral again, licking a bit of tea from her lips at the smell of that blended blood coming from his bowl.  A bold oath it was, and one that none of those archdemons gathered today would forget.  She made no comment, only chuckling slightly at Belial's volunteering to beat their slothful sibling for remaining asleep for so long.  And as others would, invited the new Lord to visit him in his realm.  She suspected all of them would be to speak with him and make their plots for that is what they did.  They plotted and schemed.  Though the mention of Moloch's ice cream did make her long for a bowl of it.  She would be sure to have some of what little remained since his visit.  It was a miracle that it had not yet melted to the point of being soup.  

Leviathan apparently wished for there to be music, Mammon watching her choose something from Lucifer's collection before bringing it over to the record player in the room.  A tango began to play, its dulcet tones floating through her ear drums, glancing over to her sister as she moved about the table to the dance floor.  Did she want to dance--Her eyes were instantly drawn to Asmodeus as she rose from her chair.  Unlike her, Mammon looked at her calmly as opposed to pretending that she was not there.  "For what it's worth, I personally, can vouch for this man."  What, had she slept with him?  Doubtfully considering the Lord's nature as Mammon had observed it.  Especially considering how bored he was hunting that Succubus to begin with.  "No, this is no longer a man, this is a demon."  It was now that she looked down at her tea and finished it, popping another of her tasty treats into her mouth.  "But he shouldn't let his desires get the best of him."  Oh Asmodeus.  As tacky as ever.  It was boring to have the expected happen, and that sort of comment was always expected from her sister.  Her golden eyes drifted amidst her siblings at the other end of the table, noticing how the Lustful gazed at Lucifer while the music continued onward.  Her lids slid shut as her head bowed in the slightest, the last of that sinew bun rolling down her throat.  Now there was just one question on her mind.  

Did she stay?  Or did she leave?  

She had been there for the introductions, for the main event of this gathering which had been the announcement of her new brother.  The only reason to remain any longer would be because Lucifer would hope that she would since, as he said, this sort of occasion was unheard of. She rose from her chair quietly, wings spreading as her hair swirled slightly, her brilliant gaze glancing to all of them. "Glad to see our little family growing." That was it. That was all she was going to say, and with that she floated with heels clacking over to the dance floor where she offered a smile to her sister that she ignored so often. She may as well try to be more socialable with the rest of her siblings since she never was any other time. She came up to her side and took her hand and hip in her grasp, instantly taking over as the man. It was not harsh, but it was firm. She did not lead with cruelty, but rather a calm hand that had been developed over the eons. She moved with ease and grace, with a sly little smile upon her lips fluidity moving between them. She did not dwell on things past, only on this particular evening. And right now, she would do her host proud.

The Spirelands. The false image of the Vatican City, scarred beyond belief, then rebuilt into a magnificent city all surrounding a central monument, a artifact of unholy terror: The Devil Spire. Was this always here? Perhaps. The Father had many obscure plans when he created the universe, but there was just so much that could go wrong. This was merely but one of those many possibilities, perhaps an endless sea of tragedies with only a point one percent of absolute perfection, of no flaws. A point one percent that the Heavens knew would not be the case. Inferis was not meant to be a paradise, and yet so many souls saw it as such. Hordes of fallen angels, demons they called themselves, all brought together by the former light bringer: Lucifer.

At the head of this hideous corporation the Devil brought together ten elites to help him rule over each of Hell's sphere, creating order in a place of chaos. This in itself was obscene, it was an abomination. This was torment, yet the city was crafted with better precision than that of the now broken city above. A shame he let that fall, but intervention was not that time. He had to wait, but his hand was not idle. It was busy. Very busy. Preparing for war wasn't an easy task, especially preparing for one of this caliber. Perhaps only Hitler could know the stress of having an entire world against you. Well, besides for the fallen one himself, but he strives in ignorant pride just as the fuhrer did. This was not the case.

Nearest to the vampire and across from Lucifer himself, a new soul at this table of corruption, a overwhelming flash of light would appear from thin air. From nowhere, light came to a place of darkness, and it was surely bright enough to cause any of the demons, whenever they considered themselves the laughable title of "archdemon" or not, squirm in misery as their sensitive eyes beheld a illuminated ball form a shape of a man. They would recognize this, or maybe some would, as such brightness only existed in the heavens. Six foot eight, the being was only made yet more opposing as brilliant and large wings sprouted from the figure's back. The light faded, but now quickly, as it revealed this one's more detailed features. The starch white would fade away to reveal silver hair and azure eyes, complimented by a slightly tanned skin and a smug smile. The wings were feathered a perfect white with no imperfections, unlike the ones that were stripped of such glory many years ago that he now stood in front of. Armor, much like the Lord of Warfare wore, was the next detail that came in view, colored the same as his eyes sans the silver breastplate. Only his head and wings remained uncovered by the mysterious armor, clear that this one had some sort of status or power, not obstructing his face by a helmet. Or perhaps it was out of respect. Unlikely, however. As this was no mortal. This was no demon.

This was an angel.

No, this wasn't even an angel. This was the angel. The emissary of heaven himself, the Protector, the new holder of the title light bringer, the azure angel, the hand of God, the first archangel: Michael. And he sat upon the table of his former brethren as his unbearable light dimmed, turning a colorful eye to each of the fallen ones. he said not a word at this point, as it was not necessary, those were probably too struck in shock to speak at this point anyways. Leviathan was the first he looked at, while she had admirable beauty, she was tainted beyond saving. The sea beast would have to be fried as a replacement governing the waters had already been found, and she no longer held any sort of use to him. Ba'al...a shell of his former self, caught up in trivial pursuits such as wealth, something that he should've known was a rather worthless trait when it came down to it. Money was not buried with you, and it could not save you from the hot edge of a blade. Mammon...that was interesting, it was almost as if she didn't change. But the Protector was no fool, this was perhaps one of the most corrupt, nothing more than another demon in the need of some vigorous smiting. Moloch, now considering himself a harbinger of wrath, that ice age situation truly was a nasty ordeal to clean up. He was well expired.

The other half of the table held no better interest, starting with Asmodeus. She was truly a vile form, though beautiful, Michael much preferred her as the angel of love. Yet another easily replaceable position, that disease would be cured. A suit of armor was next. What was that? Oh, Belial. My, how he had changed, and not for the better, at that. He was literally a shell of what he once was, and the archangel might of not of recognized him if he could not sense his aura. This was a war he could not win. Beelzebub, still gorging himself, though he was now doing it in excess, and it wouldn't be long before he got his last desserts. Legion, many fallen angels and assorted other demons, was entirely a disgusting collective of tainted knowledge. They had to be purged, every last one of them. And finally, last, and definitely least, came a soul that Michael barely knew of. An elegantly dressed demon, this was Vlad the Impaler, a soul that had forsaken him and his Father. How ignorant. Why abandon those who gave him life?

Finally, Michael's azure eyes turned to the opposite end of the table, and he started the Devil down right in his tainted pupils. A mirror image of his mortal form, a form almost unchanged from his time in heaven, in fact, Lucifer seemed exactly the same as he did all those years ago. It was strange to think that the archangel once considered this being his comrade and brother, but now he was less than that, a betrayer and heretic. Surely, a scowl would be forming on his face, but the angel's facial expression remained stoic. He was patient, as he had to be. intervention was not then, no, not at that very moment. He remained silent after a good five minutes of sitting at the table as if he were invited. He waited so many years for all these hideous devils to gather in one place. So many years. They spat on him. They beat him. There was nothing he could do, as intervention was not then. No, not then. The Protector slammed his metal fist on the table, causing the entire thing to shake.

Intervention was now.

"Brother." Words came form the archangels mouth, in English, which was signal enough that something was about to come. Even conversation was considered intervention, and that was normally not allowed. But today was different. Today was finally the day, after so many years. The date Father gave him, the situation Father gave him, it all came together at last. And soon, at that, a probability not expected. Well, these beings had to congregate eventually, somehow. And now he looked to them, each wearing name tags, or the majority of them, like this was some sort of game. Like this world was a damn playground. he was angry, but he did not show it, emitting an air of not apathy but of calm demeanor. "Long time no see."

And just when things were starting to get boring: "Brother. Long time no see."

It had been a long time since a Demon who had once been an Angel had laid eyes upon this particular entity. It was ironic that Lucifer was in his name called the Light Bringer; for Michael had in that very field been almost synonymous to position. Yes, it had been a while indeed; it had been a while since these two had called one another brother. It had been a while since they had stood side by side and defended with an eager celestial willpower the pearly gates of Heaven. It had been a while since he had stood idly by, stalwart and unquestioning, as their "God" cast down punishment on they ten. It had been a while since he had abandoned them and since they had fell. "Fucker." Came the Devil's swift response.

A pallor devoid of emotion, pale as it was, beneath twinkling eyes of the brightest azure, curved into not a frown and not a sneer. Not a growl and not a snarl. There was no disappointment; no surprise; no aggression. Instead a smile. A smile that held almost warmth in its breadth as he looked upon the Archangel. "Too long, almost." Cocking his head, Lucifer posed another statement. For the music had ceased; the dancing had stopped; the speeches and the idle clinking of crockery and cutlery had been replaced by an almost eerie lack of noise. Save for the Angel and the Fallen conversing across the grand table. "It has been a while, Protector. Seven billion years." His head returned to the appropriate upright position all in time. "Though I'm sure you remember every vivid day without we "treacherous betrayers" upon your celestial cloud and in those ivory towers as being great and perfect, no?" The hidden conviction was starting to show through - but his tones remained quiet, they remained calm, they remained subtle.

Throwing his arms up, it was only a moment before this quiet was shattered and a second booming speech launched forth from Lucifer's lips. "Ladies and gentlemen, today is truly a marvelous day!" The Devil roared. "Not only have we appointed a new fair steward, for the first time in seven billion years, we have our very first celestial appearance in these grand and perfect lands!" It was not long before he let his arms fall to his side and that smile of subtlety drew into a coy grin. There was poison lurking behind these words. The simplest of men would be able to see it. "So no worries, fetch this man a plate and a glass, let him feast as we do upon the greatest meals in all these lands, today he is our honoured guest, and he will find no adversaries nor opponents here."

With an almost overdramatic - though one could say nothing is overdramatic for Samael himself - wave of his hand and another bellow that wracked the halls of the Devil Spire from ceiling to floor, he gestured with a black-gloved hand to the Protector. "My fellow Archdemons, a man I'm sure you all remember from our days in the world above, Michael, the Archangel." The bullshit facade still held steadfast. For it would have such effect when, after standing strong for all this time, it would come tumbling down like the walls of Jericho in but a few moments. "The so-called Right Hand, the Shield of God himself, the leader of the new Archangels!" It was then that his voice filled with dread and the six hundred and sixty-sixth floor of the Devil Spire became struck with a notion of serious dread not moments later. "And, finally, let us not ever forget..."

Azure locked with cerulean, blue on blue as the Hand of God and the Overlord of Hell locked gazes one more time. "...the Angel who stood idly by as a false God cast us from our homes and our duties and down into a pit we created for our own."

The new Lightbringer's utterly abhorrent holy aura was encroaching into their room, upon their banquet, and putting everyone at the table, it would seem, off their appetite. Even the Devourer and the Lord of the Flies, the collective Gluttony of whom was absolutely legendary, would be distracted with this new spectacle: the first Angelic confrontation in Inferis for all of its seven billion years of history, conversational as it was. It was time for him to save Michael the trouble of making the speech. "Let it be known, Brother of Mine," He spat the words with such fearsome animosity that the sarcasm they bathed in with an almost hedonistic manner would have been apparent to even a stunted mortal child. "That I know you come here on holy business for the Father we've forsaken. For business that has been more important than all for a consistent seven billion years."

The Devil continued. "You may come to herald a punishment, or to attempt to redeem us, or for whichever or whatever that you've been sent along with as a pathetic excuse for a false God's errand boy." The divine paper-round. "I don't fucking care." That was abrupt, blunt, and simple enough. "We will have no part of it. And if you come to tell us you mean to fight, know that you fight on our turf, on our ground, against our people, and know that you will lose." Lucifer shrugged. "We will not shoot the messenger. We will not behead the envoy of such a disgusting divine message."

He drummed those leather-held, black-wrapped fingers against the table as he pressed himself forwards, white hair slicked back and no vindictive grin upon his face any more; just a look of conviction, as flames of the truest cerulean blazed in his eyes. He was inches from unleashing the true extent of his power. He was holding himself back. There was a yearning for a devilish vengeance within his animus, within his corrupted and twisted soul, but he would hold back yet. "But know that as long as this Spire stands and I rule from it, you will be the last Angel who will come into Inferis and leave alive." With that, he collapsed back into his chair and unleashed an abrupt sigh. There was tension still. And he knew that Michael was a persistent fucker - as was the God in the forsaken and pitiful Heaven above - and that he would return. But there would be one warning. One, and only that. "Say your pathetic part in all this and then you will be permitted to leave." Without a hair upon his head harmed, true to his word: but the forces of Heaven would not succumb to such simple threats, to these dire taunts. In truth Lucifer was just dragging it out. Pulling them in. Insulting an old God he'd wished to take the battle to: and now they would bring the battle to him. To the Devil, they were simply doing a favour. Cutting out the legwork.

Once he left, it would not be long before Michael would be back. And he would bring the tattered remnants of the old world's Angelic Host with him.

((Last two or three days to get posts up if you want to else this event will end with Michael's next post.))

Ahh, Belial's speeches always warmed the heart of the ice cold demon. Though, given his demonic visage, whatwith its internal furnace, one would imagine he was always warmed at heart anyways, despite looking so cold. A bit paradoxical, that, though such eldtrich symbolism had that as a given. At any rate, the gray beast-like manthing turned to the similarly gray-ish beastmanthing, which happened to be a suit armor. Said armor was speaking to him, and he laughed an uproarish laugh in response. "BUT MY BROTHER, WHY WOULD WE EAT DAVE IN OUR ICE CREAM, HAHAHAHA." That squidthing was probably a kraken. Toats. But apparently not the only one as Moloch withdrew from SEEMINGLY NOWHERE a pair of kraken-flavored creams of ice, handing one to the Warmonger.

He did so enjoy his comrade's amusing antics. And not longer after, as strange twinkly music hit his ears, he found himself looking at the antics of another of his siblings. Taking a large bite of the rather tender and delectable dragon's flesh, he chuckled a low and loud chuckle as Leviathan began dancing about the table. it was quite odd of her, but then, she was quite odd. But one could never truly predict what she was wont to do next, much as the raging seas are an unpredictable mistress to the lost sailor. Quite the intriguing one to watch, really, if only for that. "HAHAHA, NO THANK YOU THANNY. MY FEET ARE FAT AND CLUMSY, NOT GOOD AT DANCING." How he danced once before, he could still hardly fathom.

For a little while, he enjoyed his steak and bloody "wine" as he'd made for himself from the lovely Kur. It was a truly splendid party indeed, although as it were, Moloch felt there was something missing. Yes, they had a full house, food, dancing, good drink, good company, and such nice furniture. Still... Something was missing. That very last one percent hidden from the ninety-nine. Hmm... The great ice man wondered what the little shindig could be missing.

That is, until a blinding light flared up, and when he regained his vision, he saw a sight for sore eyes, and one who had caused his eyes to be sore to begin with; Michael.

Hmmm... It had been so long... So much time had passed. And the words of the archangel had such an impact. Brief, simple, yet they packed one powerful punch. Then Lucifer began to speak.

And Moloch realized what had been missing! A good old fashioned party crasher! A welcome one at that, as Luci made known before his lieutenants. Moloch gave a cheery grin, placing a party hat atop Michael's head, before handing him an ice cream cone, as Luci's speech went on. "ENJOY THE FESTIVITIES INDEED, BROTHER. WE ALMOST MISSED YOUR GRACEFUL PRESENCE, MIKEY." Brother. Heh. As if he were even on the same level as they! He was a mere child, never mind his age, in comparison. They had seen far more of the universe than he, their lives had a purpose, a meaning. In terms of wisdom of the world's ways, he was a baby in the womb, the archdemonic congregate themselves being grizzled explorers of life's wonders. The discarding of moral restraint caused that, of course.

He listened on as the speech continued, and he merely smiled a toothy grin the entirety of the speech. Surely Michael would stay and enjoy the party? It could even be made to celebrate the soon-to-come battle between good and foolish; the archdemons, of course, being the good in that scenario. And if the man upstairs was hungry for a bit of supernatural warfare?

Why not feed their hunger?

She had not even been dancing for ten minutes when the "party" (as the rest wanted to call it) was interrupted with a painfully brilliant flash of light. While she was sure others might be wondering what could possibly cause such a brilliance, there was only one reason that it would actually hurt them like it had. There was a god damn angel in their midst. She immediately stopped moving as her wings spread to their fullest extent in her immediate anger. The number of angels that would dare to show their faces here was few and far between which kept it fairly easy to guess who it would be. And her guess was absolutely correct. Michael. The white hair… the eyes that were of such a similar blue to her lords…. It was insulting. There was a sense of pride in her mockery of her former angelic appearance, but for the moment it was overshadowed by a few different emotions aside from anger. The reason for him coming here, the safety of her lord, and if there were more.

She let her arms fall away from her sister as she turned to face him directly, standing tall and regal and without fear. She could see the judgmental gaze he cast upon her and her brethren, and those beautiful golden eyes swiftly turned a bloody crimson. Her white hair had stopped undulating gently back and forth and had fallen quite still in the particular swirl that they had been, her horns poking out between those pure locks like small dagger points. The thorny tattoos upon her skin briefly seemed to shift in the light despite the fact that everything about her body had fallen stone still. It wasn't just that flash of light that had caused her discomfort. It was the memories that came flying back to her at the very sight of him. It made her stomach churn. "Brother." He had no right to utter those words. He was no brother of theirs any longer. He was not welcome in their house. "Long time no see." Her hands slowly clenched into fists as she glanced to her Creator, watching the expression that was on his perfect features. "Fucker." There wasn't even a proper word for that one in itself was not quite enough.

The expression he wore did not fool her, she knew exactly seething tendrils were moving beneath the surface. She could see how he would handle this, for honey always won more flies than poison. But honeyed poison? That was by far the best. She almost felt a sense of pride at how he proceeded from there, the crimson starting to fade from her eyes as the gold blended with it before winning out. Oh there was no doubt that Michael remembered that day, for she even remembered the expression that he had wore. Disappointment. It had been just like fathers, but without the vindictive anger that had followed when they were all cast down. He had just stared at them with a shock and sadness, but then… that fucking disappointment. She remembered the confusion she felt as he did nothing to help them when he was supposedly the "Protector." LAUGHABLE. "Ladies and gentlemen, today is truly a marvelous day! Not only have we appointed a new fair steward, for the first time in seven billion years, we have our very first celestial appearance in these grand and perfect lands!"

Her body finally moved as a smile spread across her lips, wings fluttering twice before folding closed, her hair beginning to undulate in its mysterious patterns once more. "So no worries, fetch this man a plate and a glass, let him feast as we do upon the greatest meals in all these lands, today he is our honoured guest, and he will find no adversaries nor opponents here." Oh yes, she had several things he could feed on right about now. She heard one of her hounds howl from the grounds far below. Her babes were right to be antsy for their mistress was far from the calm beneath the surface. She suspected that the Regal Necropolis would receive a…. cleansing of its own of sorts. She needed to bath in blood to wash this stain of disgusting purity off of her essence. "My fellow Archdemons, a man I'm sure you all remember from our days in the world above, Michael, the Archangel. The so-called Right Hand, the Shield of God himself, the leader of the new Archangels!"

"I have not forgotten." She muttered under her breath, the blood within her dress roiling around in its different patterns far faster than before. The Wolfmother was pissed. And, finally, let us not ever forget......the Angel who stood idly by as a false God cast us from our homes and our duties and down into a pit we created for our own." Mammon licked her lips as she hovered back over to her spot at the table, feet never touching the ground as she bit into that final sinew bun, relishing that taste of iron that splashed in her mouth. It would have to do for now. "Let it be known, Brother of Mine, That I know you come here on holy business for the Father we've forsaken. For business that has been more important than all for a consistent seven billion years." He came to cleanse them. To wipe and purge their "tainted" existence off the face of the fabric that Father had weaved. "I don't fucking care." The final bit of her treat vanished into her mouth as her gaze bore into Michael. She could hear Moloch speak in that hideous tongue to Michael, but she did not acknowledge it.

Oh no, they would be on their absolute best behavior. And suddenly, that was not such a hard thing to do. "We will not shoot the messenger. We will not behead the envoy of such a disgusting divine message."[b] Of course not. It would put the whole evening right off. It was now that her gaze shifted back towards Lucifer at the head of the table, sensing with every fiber of her being how much he was holding back his power right now. "But know that as long as this Spire stands and I rule from it, [b]you will be the last Angel who will come into Inferis and leave alive." She found herself biting her lower lip slightly, a thin sliver of blood dripping down that perfect olive skin as the crimson spiked back into her eyes while staring at her former sibling. As much as she might dislike seeing her Archdemon brethren, they were at least far more tolerable than this abomination before them all.

It was time for another great battle, another brilliant, delicious bloodshed for her to feed upon. Why not have it be that of those pretentious fuckers in that golden palace? She wanted to tear it down. She wanted to spread that crimson corruption right through to its pearly core. And she wanted to hear that single apology from their Father's mouth before he was bled dry. But what she wanted most of all? Was for her beloved to take his place on the throne as he should have seven billion years ago. She was the Duchess of Desire, and she would have what she wanted most.

Eating was one of the great pleasures of life, and while it was done for pleasure eating, consuming was needed to maintain life in all but the most basic or mighty of beings. In fact, while Beelzebub was the prince of gluttony, the rest of the Archdemons where close behind. After all great beings such as they did not need mortal sustenance to keep them strong, no they ate this fare for the sheer carnal pleasure that it gave them. In this way they all glorified in the gateway sin that was gluttony, in this way did they mirror humanity. In this way did humanity mirror them. For while as a race mankind's physical form did take on the appearance of the father, their souls where cast from the same molds as the original ten. So to say that humanity was but a pale reflection of the fallen would not be a lie. In fact nothing truer could have been said. After while humanity exhibited the sins that had lead to their fall from heaven... It was they, the Princes of hell that had perfected them. There was a reason that they had titles such as the Prince of Wrath and the Slothful one after all. The Archdemons had not been given these on a whim.

So, while Legion was not the demon most associated with gluttony it was no surprise that they had lost them selves in their meal, and while a relatively small number of souls focused on the the goings on about them, the majority focused on their meal. A meal that they had not had the pleasure of tasting in a millennia, a meal that they had never thought to taste again. So while those about them spoke, and while announcements had been made... Legion continued to savor their *REDACTED*. Some would have thought them rude, some would have thought them uncaring... And in that instant they where. How could the appointment of a steward even compare to the sheer pleasure they took with each and every bite?

Then, with a sudden explosion the music started, and with that music came a new sense of pleasure. Yes, the addition of that sudden noise had added to the sensuality of this most rare of dishes, and with it came a little moan of contentment. With a final lift of the fork, what little remained of their meal came to their mouth and with an almost sad look in their deep red eyes Legion took the final plunge, maybe their last plunge, into pure culinary bliss. Their eyes closed and for a few moments they savored that last morsel, rolling it about in their mouth with a practiced tongue. Then, with something bordering on regret they swallowed and their meal was no more.

And then their eyes opened, and for the first time since before the dawn of time they beheld a brother they never thought to see again. Legion would have been startled, maybe even surprised then, if it hadn't been for their meal. But as it stood, they simply excepted the unexpected and let a small smile form on their lips. "Michael, child. Have you lost weight? You look simply famished." For the first time in centuries the original soul spoke. He who was Legion, let them selves be heard.

Although a few passing comments had been made in his direction, very few had actually been made with the intention to continue them along. He noticed a few things here and there; though there was very little keeping him interested in this little soiree. Yes, he was certainly invited as a guest; but he also felt that most of the Archdemons held him at arms-length--was there any reason for them not to? Ba'al was always the most unusual looking of the Hell Princes. He was the one who changed his face every billion years. He was the one who never held a true Demon form, even as his Original. So why should they trust him? To them--he was as good as human. To them--he was the weakest. To them--he was merely a suck-up, forever beneath them, forever a shadow. Despite his riches, despite his glory, he was nothing to them but an insect, ready to be crushed at any given second.

And he fucking loved that.

Most of the words sent in his general direction had been stiff, tipped with poison, ready to kill if things got to that point. His eyes were narrowed, watching the group as he quietly sipped wine from afar. The new one--the replacement for their Slothful sibling--spoke eloquently. Ah, that was how he knew the name. Vlad III Tepes; also known as Dracula of Nosferatu. "Such an unexpected quarry to be bringing within our group. I'm almost shocked." Demure laughter escaped his throat, but he spoke no more. Instead, the man merely watched with inquisitive eyes as his brothers and sisters played around; they would eat, drink and generally be merry. But this time, he would merely watch. Why, you ask? Because he wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure if he could walk among them. He wasn't sure if they'd want him to. He was confident in his own self, but what of them?

At that point; his gaze was momentarily caught by Asmodeus', before being broken and taking to centre-stage. Leviathan had begun to let loose, and let loose she certainly was doing. After a few moments of her rather... amusing maneuvers, she let out a question: "Would anyone care to dance?" Well, it was certainly better than keeping to oneself, was it not? He got to his feet and placed his hands upon his hips--anyone watching would've wondered how and when he finally decided to move--and made calm and quiet strides in her direction. Despite the fact that the watery tart pissed him off on more than one occasion, she had a rather seductive form. He chuckled as he approached, but then he also stopped.

"Brother."

That voice.

"Long time no see."

No. Why now? His mouth twisted into an ugly sneer, and he turned to face the appearing storm. The conversation began, and it turned into a pretty quick slug-fest. Even if no punches were thrown, Lucifer's words were dipped in the most ferocious fire. The hairs on the back of his neck were raised, and his eyes narrowed to the deepest slits. "Michael, Michael, Michael. You are several billion years too late, my friend." Leaving behind those words, the Original King would be seen vanishing into golden dust, letting not any imprint remain. He had no need to remain behind; his form would not be recognized by the Angel--and even if it were, there were no words to be shared between former comrades, nor was the wisdom of war to be sullied either. Instead, he merely needed to take his leave, and take his leave he did--only Lucifer would notice the difference, he was sure.

So, very unlike the day he betrayed his father, Lucifer began a grand speech. Even though Michael had personally never witnessed this, it was just so typical. So predictable of him to boast and gloat about his new and "powerful" empire. Had he forgotten who had given him life? No, the archangel was sure he didn't. His pride truly had swelled to unbelievable lengths, and at this moment, the Protector was finally certain that his father's decision was just. The Devil showed no anger, and certainly no fear. The angel's armored fingers folded together as he leaned forward, fully appearing to be under the fallen one's full attention. He didn't have to listen, but that would be rude, and this was the first meeting in a while.

"Not only have we appointed a new fair steward, for the first time in seven billion years, we have our very first celestial appearance in these grand and perfect lands!" This said celestial being said not another word and simply continued to listen. Actually, he pondered this sentence, had it really been that long? Being so old...one tended to lose track of time, something that in fact, didn't always exist. His feathered wings twitched a couple times, the first show of any sort of response to Lucifer's words. "So no worries, fetch this man a plate and a glass, let him feast as we do upon the greatest meals in all these lands, today he is our honored guest, and he will find no adversaries nor opponents here." With that, a demon of unknown origin appeared before the azure one, who didn't even grace him with the simplest of welcomes, eye contact. No, these orbs of changing blues focused on the original light bringer the entire time, only glancing down once to see what sort of morsels was brought to him. A drink, likely alcoholic, and some sort of meat that Michael didn't dare question. He wouldn't eat it, either. Didn't these foul monsters have something normal to eat? Like...a strawberry sundae or something? Besides, it was likely poisoned, something that wouldn't effect his body's unnatural regenerative properties, but nevertheless, the Devil was a liar. Even the heavens knew this. Actually, especially the Heavens knew this. It was for this reason that he would not once let down his barrier of unseen but titanium-hard (likely moreso) light that surrounded his celestial body.

Now tapping his fingers together, Michael let the Devil address and introduce him, simply listening on for him to finish. With the expression on his face, a blank and stoic one, one probably wouldn't be able to tell if he was truly paying attention or downright disrespecting Old Scratch. "That I know you come here on holy business for the Father we've forsaken. For business that has been more important than all for a consistent seven billion years." Good, that will save some breath. The archangel thought to himself as the devil continued on. His light never dimmed, he could probably make himself more bearable for the former archangels to look upon, but he didn't want to. Where would the fun be in that? After all, archdemons weren't the only ones who could grind another's gears for no apparent reason.

"We will have no part of it. And if you come to tell us you mean to fight, know that you fight on our turf, on our ground, against our people, and know that you will lose." Lucifer shrugged, as if he didn't even care what was being said. The Devil was a liar. "We will not shoot the messenger. We will not behead the envoy of such a disgusting divine message." He waited yet some more, and for the first time in the existence of everything, Michael had grown impatient. No words came from his mouth, though they nearly did, the archangel was able to hold his tongue for just a while longer. Just a few more seconds, minutes. Maybe. He could hardly control this emotion. Was it impatience? Or was it excitement? Only God would know.

"But know that as long as this Spire stands and I rule from it, you will be the last Angel who will come into Inferis and leave alive." So now he was an angel of death? Decided who lived and who didn't was not his domain, nor was it ever, and it certainly wasn't so now. Hatred, that emotion again, and these demons thought of it all as a simple game. A joke. That was not the case, and the Devil at last finished his little speech. Michael was angered, he was ready to have his words, but he did not let any of this show. No, he sat there with that look upon his face, almost as if he were some sort of holy statue or something of the unmoving art sort. At some point, the fallen angel Moloch attempted to place some sort of odd hat upon the Protector's head, a futile effort as it would simply slide off of his unseen 'force'field. he did, however, reach out without looking at the large one to accept the ice cream cone, something he had been longing for. He would take a few licks of it then set it on his plate, perhaps a mysterious thing for an angel to do, but these ones knew him. Well, at least for the most part. THe archangel was about to speak, but was sharply interrupted by two other archdemons, Ba'al and the original Legion, two souls which he didn't pay any attention to. They would get theirs.

Michael finally stood up, extending his great wings to their full length, which easily touched each end of the room. "Know this." He hissed, "We have not waited idly for this day." The Protector's eyes stared into Satan's very corrupted soul with a stark determination. "We have not waited at all." He repeated, taking a deep breath. "We have been preparing." The great factories and engineers of Paradise truly had been busy, taking the Host's technology far beyond that of Earth's current age, and even Inferis'. Michael moved not, standing still as his powerful voice filled the room. It was not unlike Lucifer's when closely listened to, yet it was the complete opposite, filled with charisma and hope, not unlike his servants Metatron and Ramiel.

"Hell," The archangel cursed, perhaps the only sign that he was even in the slightest bit upset. "You becoming Overlord of this unholy land is merely one of many of the possible outcomes of the universe." Now he was just toying with the unholy man, attempting to tear at this pride, something that he knew wouldn't be done easily. "We know you wish to march on Heaven. We know you wish to claim the throne. But rather than awaiting this day of reckoning, we come to you." The archdemons making it to the golden gates was an undesirable outcome, and an invasion had a higher probability of succeeding. Michael did not come on his own accord, out of his own anger, but simply because the math added up right. That's how the universe worked, after all, an endless series of preventable probabilities.

"And we come in full force, for we do not wish to destroy you." Destruction would be meaningless. Well, of course Inferis would be completely demolished and rebuilt in a more stable and perhaps more damning image, but that would be long after the original ten's judgement day. "We have come to re-purpose you, whenever you will it or not." Meaningless destruction, there was no point in it, they would just be revived. "You will bend to us. You will even embrace your eventual perfection." Azure eyes now fell over the entire table, no longer simply gazing upon the Devil, as he noticed that one had already fled. Fear. "For I bring with me a new host, an improved one."

His pupils first stopped on Mammon, skipping over Leviathan and the empty seat. "Corrupter. Your red tides have tainted these lands and the next for decades, no, millennia. it is time you were brought final judgement!" No longer did he stand still, for now the Protector held emotion, his metal fist slammed down upon the extravagantly carved table. Next they turned to Moloch, the one so kind to offer him earlier's delicious frozen treat. "Devourer. Your path is misguided and lost, behind you you leave nothing but sub-zero wasteland. I bring you salvation." His fist raised once more, this time running through his silver hair. What kind of emotions he was experiencing were unknown, but they sure were powerful, and at this point, downright crazed. His eyes quickly looked Asmodeus up and down, before returning to Leviathan as if he actually forgot something. "Lustful and Unpure, you both will be cleansed, and do not feel yourselves excluded."

Light filled the room more as every dark corner vanished. Michael's voice grew with power. Next, he turned to the armored knight, Belial. "Warmonger. Your conflicts have scarred His holy creation for years on end! For you have angered many a soul, and for that, I bring you retribution." Tides of hate were evident in his voice. "Lord of Flies! You made a mistake by letting these lies consume you, and you went forth and consumed more and more like a never-dying fire. Fear not, you can still be healed." Next the azure one gazed at the many, the faceless one. "Lost Ones. You seek knowledge relentlessly without tiring. You are many, and you claim to be all seeing, but yet you allowed yourself to become filled to the brim with falsifications and lies! I bring you holy revelation!" The archangel not only turned to the last subject still present, but walked towards him and came within inches of his face, examining it. The newest member of Lucifer's Island of Misfit toys: Vlad the Impaler. His actions on Earth were alone enough to damn his soul. Backing away again, the speech continued.

"Impaler! Do not assume yourself exempt for being so young and unexperienced. At the end of everything, your body won't hold a single ounce of hope." The emissary's wings retracted as his calm demeanor once more took total control of his body, and those azure orbs once more fell upon the Lord of Hell. "And you brother, your darkness will fade into the light." Crossing his arms, the archangel once more took a seat, as if he planned on staying even after releasing such harsh threats upon just about every member of the party, save for the one who made an early exit. He neither, would be exempt from such reckoning, but would perhaps be the least expecting of all of them as he ignorantly ignored his coming speech. How tragic. Not really. The deep blue metal of his arms and legs slowly began to dissolve into light particles as the room dimmed down once more. He was vanishing back to heaven, and when he did return, he would not be alone. A few words could be heard from the celestial being even after he had fully vanished.

"You cannot stop us. Prepare yourselves for the Arrival."