This particular tale starts in a dingy underground lair with all of the trimmings. The cobwebs were dusty enough that they were no longer sticky and to be honest the floor could probably have done with a mop, mainly because of the big demonic sigil painted right in the middle of it in red. If this were a few decades ago it'd be in blood, but it turns out that demons aren't as picky with their summoning rituals as the various churches and religious groups would have you believe. Most of them are either burning in a fiery pit or just quite bored, the reason one should never play cards with demons is not necessarily because they cheat, but because they have a lot of free time. Anyway blood is quite difficult to get and it also tends to coagulate which makes fancy demonic symbols quite difficult to draw.

Chaos demons are quite difficult to summon. Most of them are summoned by accident since they tend to pop up exactly where you least expect them. Which is occasionally also exactly where you expect them, happily this is one of those times, otherwise this would be a bit of a silly place to start a story wouldn't it? Anyhow there's a flash of light and a stick appears on top of the symbol.

The man performing the ritual laughs maniacally, it's a very good evil laugh, he's very proud of it. It takes a great deal of breath control and he has had to fork out for a few theatre lessons to get a laugh that is quite as unnerving as this one.

"Finally I have summoned a foul creature from the sea of Chaos! You must do my bidding Fiend!"

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The stick let out an exasperated sigh, 'Not another nutter' it thought.

"What is your name creature?"

"I'm Dave, nice to meet you. Calling me a fiend right off the bat is a bit of a dick move when you know nothing about me"

The man looked a bit bewildered.

'I didn't exactly expect to be scolded by a stick when he woke up this morning. Hang on this must all be a nefarious plot to make me lower my guard, no demon is actually called Dave.'

The man recovered, producing a small unconscious baby boy from within his robes, which has also had an unreasonable amount of red paint applied to it in suitably chaotic patterns.

"This is your vessel, the markings will prevent you from leaving and bind you to this fleshy form!"

The man started chanting and about half an hour later the stick vanished and the baby started glowing. The man cackled once more to celebrate his victory and then swaddled the baby in some cloth before going to wash the red paint from under his fingernails. Unfortunately for him the floor by the basin of water was damp and rather badly lit, what with it being an underground lair and he slipped, hit his head on the sink and died.

Dave meanwhile was a bit pissed off since babies are pretty useless at everything besides being cute and crying. Both of these require some kind of audience and his audience was bleeding out on the bathroom floor from an unfortunate head injury.

'On the upside I guess I'm free to do whatever I want, provided I don't starve to death first.'

And so Dave started toddling valiantly around the lair in search of some food that wouldn't require very much chewing...