"Slow down and take me through this one step at a time," the baronet spelled out, "how did this happen?"
"Ah, yes... the witch surely hath used her magic to make me fall asleep." The hobgoblin said.
"That's impossible. Lacrima is cursed, she doesn't have magic."
"Oh... then, perhaps her vampiric ally..."
"Yes... no. Noss was with me."
The boy tapped his foot and tilted his head trying to exert his brain. "Ah- I... she gave me a gold coin if I wouldst let her go."
Scratch held up his hand. "Show it to me." When his grandchild produced the currency he pocketed it.
"Wha- Hey!"
"It's a fine for not coming up with a more credible lie. Now off to your room, I don't want to see you for the next 24 hours."
"Maenith, with me." Lydia took him by the ear before he could abscond, "Let's figure out a real punishment."
-
"She'll be coming after zhe poppet, of course." The vampire spelled out.
They had only just come back from the encounter with the storm wolf and were taking off their boots in the mansion's foyer.
"I should go find her, zhen."
Scratch looked at him like he was an idiot. "I think she saw through our little ruse, buddy. She would have looped you in otherwise."
The vampire's boot went flying in frustration and bounced against the wall, leaving a muddy imprint.
"Hey, watch it."
"You vouldn't understand. It is a crime of all crimes zhat talented magicians fall into zhe zhrall of gods. Lacrima could have been among zhe mightiest of dark sorcerers. But she chooses insignificance in the service of a greater power."
Not content with throwing one boot, he was now trying to rip the other apart, not making much work of it.
"That way lies the fate of many great women..." Barbara whispered ominously to herself in the shadow of the doorway, "...trapped in the shadow of their lords."
Scratch took a brief glance at his eyebrows and then trodded up in front of her, umbrella in hand. "Did ya get very wet, Barbs?"
"No, used your-"
He spun the thing around, flinging off the water droplets onto her form.
"Ah, hey!"
"Let's take a moment to be grateful shall we?" He suggested, "For the rubber."
She tried to swipe at Scratch, but he used the umbrella as a shield.
"How you're now trading in a rare material that can only grow in tropical zones, and the troll garden. How you're the primary gateway for everything rare in the continent."
She rolled her eyes, "of course Baronet. I have nothing but gratitude to you-"
"I'm not giving you a lecture. Listen..." he threw back the umbrella and grabbed her hand, leading her into the living room where they tracked water and mud onto the carpet. Then he jumped on top of a couch to be equal with her, "I promised you that the goblins would be your gateway to wealth and power. Voila, they still are. Ask of me anything that doesn't threaten my position, and you will have it. That is still our deal. Nobody is stifling you just because I said no to one thing." Suddenly, he raised his voice to sing. "You have my heart, and we'll never be worlds apart. Maybe in magazines, but you'll still be my star." He handed her the umbrella.
She took it. "You haven't stopped singing that song since you got this thing, half of it is nonsense words."
Noss came into the room after them. "Zhis shoe, vhat is it made of?"
"You only just noticed, vulcanized rubber. Just like the umbrella canopy."
"You've seen the foreign trees down below the lion's head" Barbara sighed, folding it up, "they've been rotating crops for years trying to prep the ground for exotic plant life."
"Zhis zhing... it forces itself back into shape, but zhe shape is not a natural one. It's one you designed."
"Yeah, vulcanized." Scratch lowered himself on the couch. "Basically, heat it up with some sulfur and powders. It won't pull back if you mold it while it's liquid, and when it cools down it settles in that shape."
"Zhen, it forgets its shape."
"I guess? There's probably a particle physics way to explain it, the monomers break loose and solidify in a new polymer or something..."
Without a word, Fleder stormed out of the room.
"What was all that about?" Scratch asked Barbara.
She shrugged.
"Whatever happens, Lacrima can not do anything as long as I have this." He flashed the poppet around his neck. "So don't let anyone near me for a while, okay? She'll probably send someone."
----------------------------------------
Underneath the dragon cage lay a thin and narrow passage towards the dungeon core.
The curved spines of the shard had slowly inched their way through the rock bed over the years, carving a path of darkness like the maw of some hungry beast.
And at the very end... it opened up into the abyss.
The endless black had swallowed all winds and left the air a still void. Cyclophan's core was suspended just below the opening, having become weightless, and the world around him was pure silence. A nothing, a void.
Protected by miles and miles of dungeon and a raging dragon, he could be confident in the safety of his vessel. It was a secure cocoon from which to enact his will.
But the god fracture was shook out his serenity by a small foot landing on the middle of the crystal.
Ah! What!?
The crystal trilled with his panic.
"Och! Master Cyclophan, you have made it into our plane. What will you do now that your ambition is fulfilled? Will you grow fat and die?"
The damn incubus is on my shard. Where's Scratch? Get it off!
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Youthere hung himself over the edge to look at the thing upside-down. "I'm afraid I cannot commune with your grace, so one will have to stick to impotent shivering."
The shard vibrated some more, much to the demon's delight.
"Hee hee, you believe the abyss is your home? Not so. Before my first face, before my first name, I was there when the world was made, and you were not in it." He stuck out a leg and took a leap of faith into the emptiness. Miraculously, he found an invisible support with the ball of his foot. He crouched to lower his center of gravity. "You meaning the whole you of course, Malsidious, not the kishin. There were only four gods then. And they laid claim to the elements alone..."
The incubus seemed briefly sunk in a contemplative mood.
"Theirs the celestial realm, and the darkness... the darkness below belonged to the demons."
What is this, where are you going?
"This is not farewell, dear wyrm scale. I will return shortly to do battle with you over my master's soul. This may serve to you as a reminder that the dark abyss that you infiltrate is not yours to rule or comprehend. That I, and even the shadow demons to which you imagine to have some connection, come and go through blackness as we please. Into the nightmare-"
The still air made a pained gasp and the familiar was swallowed by darkness.
-
The path Youthere traveled was one of floating memories and forgotten dreams.
Specters of streets, forests, and castles gave him foothold above the endless drop. Like falling into a dream, the visions bled into each other until they were a world. An ephemeral place of shifting chaos.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The disembodied embers of light made way for shapen forms as well. Nightmares of a fleshy quality, that could cast shadows and move the air, whose eyes lit up with hateful glee.
One such creature was there guarding a door. Or rather, she was the door. What could certainly be described as a woman, blindfolded and bound with thorny vine to sit in display, like the figurehead on a ship, against the cruel ingress.
"Aaaaah. A seducer demands entry into the court of ruin. Low, low, loooow in the hierarchy of his family."
He only smiled. "I come bearing a form, proof of worldly power and a contract. By rights, I have a seat at the table."
"By rights indeeed. But not without payment."
"The family of pain is always paid his due," he promised, and leaned in to touch his lips to her.
As he did, he began to convulse, and puked up a living rat into her mouth.
The door nodded, accepting the payment, and swung open. Leading him into the innards of the nightmare.
-
The court of ruin was a dome of concentric rings, or ring-like shadows, in a way. slowly twisting around the central platform were circles of could-be realities. Where they moved, temporarily, there was a world of pulsing flesh, the crenelations of an infinite dark castle, or some other vision of apocalypse. One after the other, they moved over and through each other in a chaotic motion, passing over the demons' perches like brief visions.
Sounds came from all around. Shrieking, speaking, music. These were the demons of the seven families that had descended into the nightmare to appeal to the prime evil.
Youthere slunk past the edge of a ring, hiding in the shadows of the twisting court and keeping a venerative eye on the arch-devil inside.
He found his seat.
"So then, a little brother demands a place at our table," a succubus purred from her alcove, "what business for the incubus who spreads our stolen power?"
"My business is only the business of evil, dear sister. And such is the business of all our family, shall they withhold their claws and teeth?"
Graciously, the other demons of temptation did not attempt to maim him, but let him nestle into the moving stone to sit among them as an ambassador to one of the seven families.
-
Eventually, the prime evil emerged from underneath the central platform, silencing the cacophonous pandemonium with only a breath.
He was a small, humanoid creature, with a skull two sizes to large and tiny black eyes two sizes to small that sat sunk all the way back in the socket.
"The prime evil has emerged," he announced, with a creaky voice, "this day, its name and form is borne by annihilation."
"The same family has had the prime evil elected from its rank for six millenia." The succubus said. "What an omen that today should be different."
"All stand in reverence," the prime evil commanded, "there will be no bias in this court. The prime evil does not discriminate and shall stand in office to promote all things wicked, unholy, and nasty, no matter what form they may take. Now come. Come! Relay thy requests of rapaciousness."
At his invitation, the silence broke and thousands of demonic cries went out, which would have ruptured the eardrums of any mortal.
Demands for sacrifice, accusations between families, and, as always, clamoring for a demon king.
The prime evil raised a gnarly finger and pointed at the first demon to speak. "Names! Many names for the demon king. Who can truly claim to have found a mortal that is true evil? Advocates of the atrocious! Come forward and cast thy vote, with whom do you throw in your lot?"
"Abyss!" The demon pointed at said. "Abyss of the Reaper of Darkness. Dark sorcerer, kin-slayer, indiscriminate slaughterer. His capacity for cruelty is well known throughout the pandemonium."
"Hear, hear." His cohorts voiced their agreement. The Reaper of Darkness had many proponents among the shadow and pain families.
"Nay, I say, nay!" A large horned demon protested. "General Muzzad of the World's End Army. None are more steeped in profanity than he!"
The general had his own fans among the family of annihilation.
After that the demons began shouting over each other again.
"Filthy Struwel!"
"Yanis, Emperor of Secrets!"
"The Ungulate!"
The prime evil threw up his hands at all of these, until Youthere stood up and spoke. "Scratch."
A gnarly finger once again pointed, this time towards him.
The enlarged skull slowly turned to see who he was pointing at. "Speak."
The incubus stood up and addressed the crowd as much as he did the Prime Evil. "I ask thee, what are the qualities of a demon king?"
"Boundless death toll!" The demons of annihilation bellowed.
"Insidious betrayal!" The demons of shadow hissed.
"Cruelty."
"Madness."
"Pride!"
The other factions chimed in.
The Prime Evil gestured for them to settle down.
"Nay! I say." Youthere threw up a hand. "These are qualities of the forces of light as much as the forces of darkness! Mere instruments! True evil requires conviction. To knowingly choose damnation, that is its mark."
"Then who is this master, that you claim desires evil more than all other candidates," The Prime Evil asked, "more than the Filthy Struwel?"
"The Filthy Struwel follows its nature," Youthere proclaimed, "General Muzzad his ambition, and Abyss an insatiable lust for revenge. All these resort to evil, as some tool towards their own purpose. None of them, and no demon king previously, has possessed the heart of a demon!"
"You speak heresy!" The Prime Evil roared. Then he grinned an evil grin. "As all demons should. You may continue."
"My master Scratch, baronet under the Reddington crown, can not bear to see suffering." Youthere stated, eliciting anguished screams from the family of pain. "What's more, he has adopted a parental role towards his people, and selflessly strives to improve their lives." As he went on, the anger among the crowds grew and they began to jeer at him. "My master has no stomach for cruelty, nor betrayal, nor pride!"
The succubi were already tearing their long nails into his legs and the entirety of demonkind seemed poised to rip him apart, but Youthere only stood there, smugly.
"And what I'll say now, fellow demons, is that your rage at his goodness does not compare to his own! Because Scratch of the Promise strives every day to be more greedy and corrupt than the last!"
"The Prime Evil commands the pandemonium to keep back, as per the ancient rules, and for the incubus to continue," the Prime Evil said, "but misspeak now, fountain of temptation, and you may very well lose your existence in this court."
Youthere nodded. "I put to you, brothers and sisters, what is more evil? To be born wicked? Or to overcome one's gentle instincts through sheer force of will? I have seen my master meditate, breathe to control his body, and cast his feelings in the role of intruder, all to kill empathy and honor. I have seen him kill his brother, though it broke his heart, betray his allies, though he bore them no malice, and poison a country, though he yearns for its prosperity. The ability to harness the will, to fight one's instinct in service of a greater goal, was once thought the exclusive purview of goodness. But I tell you it's not. Scratch has developed a morality that holds good as despicable, evil as admirable. And if you were to make him your king, that inversion can take root in all the minds of this world. That is my supplication, thank you."
"A most iniquitous imprecation." The Prime Evil said in praise. "However... the Prime evil will reject your nominee. As your kind has proven, mere ambition does not equal alignment, when creatures of the flesh are so prone to return to their natural tendencies. No no no. Scratch of the Promise will not be demon king, not unless he can bring about the boundless death and insidious betrayal of a true villain."
After that, there was no more discussion of demon kings. All mortal candidates fell short of the Prime Evil's standards, despite the various advocates, and there were more pressing matters to discuss.
For example, how to maximize the number of orphans created in the ongoing war.
-
Youthere snuck out of the proceedings halfway. "A true villain, naturally, a true villain... you wouldn't know cruelty and betrayal if it bit you in the nose, all you care about is scale, arch-idiot." He muttered contemptuously.
"No demon king has ever been appointed over the plea of one familiar," whispered a succubus that had followed him out, "spread your ambition little brother. More of our kin must know victory in evil through your master, then may he become hailed as a champion for evil."
"Haven't we diminished a hero of light through the goblin nation," he complained, "and stolen his strength for Eriad's hungry vault?"
"Ah, but that is but one hero, and he hardly suffers at all. There must be more to be done. Let us fatten all five heads of indulgence, why don't we?"
"Then... you are an ally?"
"Only an ally to corruption, as are you, little brother."
"Naturally!"
----------------------------------------
A shadow crept along the candlelight that evening.
A hand closed around Scratch's poppet, by which Lacrima was cursed, and hurried down the stairs of the mansion.
A familiar face in the household, so that none looked up to see it slink out of the building, onto the streets of the Promise.
So that none looked up to take notice of the figure exiting the gate.
-
Lacrima's greedy hands twitched to receive the artifact.
Her long and wrinkly fingers extending from the shadow of the wall like the digits of a children's nightmare.
"You were always reckless and without wit," she said, as soon as she had grasped the thing. "How you became what you are... I have no idea."
Being spoken to broke the mind-slave out of her enchantment. "Who-"
"Scratch." She spat at him as she crushed the poppet against the stone.
The baronet stood in front of her, slightly discombobulated being all of a sudden outside. "Lacrima, you got one over on me."
"You believed me to be harmless without my ability to cast, but a witch is beyond a common war mage. I have my spirit allies... and cursed artifacts."
"...the coin." He dug in his pocket and threw it on the ground.
Upon closer inspection, it contained an elegant small magical construct producing the control magic she was known for.
"You could have seen the magic twisting around its center, you were granted that gift. But you lack the prudence of a true leader. Now I shall destroy your little monster kingdom and deliver this land to Guth."
She readied a cruel bewitchment, but he drew his wand quicker, ready to counter it. "Don't be rash, Gingerbread, you think you can make it two miles out west? We have people that can catch up to you you know, owl or no. All I have to do is yell. So why don't you-"
The smug expression on her face gave him pause. Only then did he notice the hand holding his wand covered in blood.
She nodded towards the gate behind him. "She came up to you while you were under my control. Rather poor performance for a thief... a bandit shouldn't be so vulnerable to an unexpected stab."
"Jesus! Barb!"
On the ground lay Barbara, already fading out of consciousness. She was bleeding from a major femoral vein in her thigh, the ritual dagger still sticking out.
Scratch rushed to her side trying to stelp the bleeding.
"That should keep you occupied," the witch cackled, "really! The blade is cursed, but if you all work together you might still save her."
"Help! A healer! Someone!" He yelled into the sleeping town.
The witch's cackling turned into an owl's screeching as she flapped her cloak and it became wings.
A pair of windwolves arrived first. "Dungeon master, what chaos has ran terror into our lives? Do we give chase to this shapechanger?"
"There's no time, get some help. Get one of the kids."
"...Scratch..." Barbara said weakly.
He lifted up her head.
"Go..." she said, "go get her... kill the witch."
"You're delirious, we've got to save you first." He raised his voice again, "someone! Hey, hey!"
People were coming out of their homes and shedding light on the scene.
Barbara closed her eyes.
----------------------------------------
Coin Devil
Family: Demon
Threat Level: D
Reward: 20 silver pieces
The coin devil causes outsized mayhem for its threat level, as it gets at adventurers through underhanded means. Coin devils can have any human appearance, but will often appear as bandits or beggars. Adventurers should be on guard when a bandit carries with them a suspiciously large amount of money. The demonic nature of the body can be revealed via an exorcism or by using holy water.
Coin devils possess no particular combat skill, and are weak against holy magic. Adventurers should never pocket the money one carries with it.
Money carried by coin devils is cursed. Those that carry it close to their body become gradually overtaken by greed and distrust, causing them to turn against their comrades in an attempt to jealously guard the treasure. The effect should diminish after time away from the cursed object. Dispelling the curse on the coin will reveal it to be worthless bone shards.
As all demons, coin devils have a chance to appear in any region corrupted by sin and dark sorcery. If the appearance of demons is unexpected, it should be reported to the adventurers' guild.