All fourteen demons of the Noble troupe gather at the entrance and exit as Hargoil promised. Each a Crimson tier of great might, proven and tested in the pits where ascending Pinks fight in Circe’s name for a chance to live on or better yet, join the troupe.
Most concerning among them are Circe’s aides, the two demons of fire and acid hailing from the same layer of Reais the Noble General does. Together they claim to preserve true demon culture and heritage and spit at the mockery Corym builds itself on, or at least they used to. Tonight though, they will again as Mughuk will remind them of the unrelenting troupe of demons they are meant to be.
“We have come as you’ve asked, Mughuk. Pray tell what trouble you’ve brought upon us now?” One of the very aides asks, she is of a blackened, volcanic rock with fissures of lava peeking underneath. A ball of fire hops from one handless arm to another and she fixes Mughuk with a scowl that threatens to crack another fissure through her rock burnt face.
Mughuk doesn’t let the pressure of her gaze get to him, he anticipated this after all. Circe’s aides are part of the troupe, the first members in fact and there’s no way to hide the true bounty of his hunt from them; merely gathering of the troupe like this without Circe’s present is cause for suspicion already. Instead Mughuk glances over the gathered, demons weaker and stronger than him waiting for the reveal. He’s learned with [Telepathy] that some demons already know what’s hidden under the sheet behind him and are only waiting for the chaos to ensue.
Oh there will be chaos.
“Thank you all for answering my call, you won’t regret it.” Snorts round through the gathered demons and Mughuk nods at Acas, his [Swak] companion behind him.
Gasps, cackles and roars follow the instant Acas pulls the sheet off the heap of Trirax and Caldri corpses. Mughuk remains calm even as the second aide turns his eye on him, a cold glower from the demon made of slime. Demersen, Circe’s right hand always wears the form of the last thing he consumed, at present that happens to be a large winged serpentine demon, Jaui. It's an imperfect imitation as a closer look reveals an unmistakable slimy glaze. The cheers and jeers at the deaths of Corym’s demons and the outrage at Mughuk’s insolence for reaping what no one else is allowed to is silenced as Demersen slops forward.
Like Mughuk, Demersen’s form is fluid, it shifts and morphs at his will. The finer details of his serpentine mass melt away to blue-green acid, the fangs, hooded head and feathered tail condense into a single, tall pillar of slime that rains on anyone standing too close. He curls around Mughuk’s shadowed form like this, not minding how his acid drips through Mughuk’s whispers of shadow to scald the earth beneath, only caring to imprison the shaded demon.
His Soul Crystal, a vibrant Crimson swims throughout his body, obvious to any and every demon to perceive as a weakness or strength at their own peril. It acts as his eyes, ears, mouth and perhaps even nose when the demon’s masterful shapeshift ability isn’t employed.
“What is the meaning of this, Mughuk?” It isn’t Demersen that demands answers, but Hargoil. He stands among the gathered but draws as much attention with his voice as Demersen does with Mughuk’s soft imprisonment, “Enlighten us. What your intent is here?”
Mughuk would thank the beetle demon if his mind and body weren’t under pressure from Demersen. Instead he remains stiff, as though Demersen weren’t trying to poke holes through his psychic defences and unravel the truth on his own terms.
“My intent? It’s been the same since I joined the troupe. What is the intent of any demon here but to grow? To prosper in Essence and ascend to strength unknown? I want that and this is the way.”
“Defying Circe’s word is the way?” Helis, the blackened aide chimes, folding her handless arms across her chest.
Mughuk feigns hurt with a masterful snort and chuckles, “Defy? Of course not! We all are loyal demons, loyal to Circe as he is loyal to us. Or is he not? This is no defiance but a petition! Corym is eating itself, its host of demons thrown out of its walls in infighting and the mighty Stelc more docile than it has been in decades!
“As a loyal demon of the troupe, I have returned to share the good news with you all, the news that the forest may yet be ours if only we dare to take it. Imagine it, every demon ascending, rising two or even three times and I know some of us dearly need it. Imagine Circe, our Noble General trailing the path of ascension for his subjects and securing their own ascension! After all, this is the intent of every one of us, is it not?”
The troupe listen with sniggers and mumbles of subdued agreements. Mughuk searches the thoughts of those he can and finds there is still some convincing to do.
Demersen’s head of slime morphs back into that of a Jaui and he hisses in his ear, “There’s a reason Circe forbids hunting the demons of Corym, Mughuk, perhaps you’re too young to remember but I do. Their leaders, the Primes will not see us mince their herd and sit idly by.”
“A reason? You mean the fear of retribution?” Mughuk says, glancing at the faces and surface thoughts of the demons observing and listening intently, “Tell me, Demersen, if you and Helis are attacked and Helis falls despite her strength, would you seek retribution?”
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Demersen hisses, snaking around with the head of the Jaui glaring holes into Mughuk’s shadowy form but remains silent. Mughuk takes the silence as his preferred answer and gestures to the troupe, “Exactly! These are fighting, competing demons now, not the collective we knew. Rather than seek vengeance they may stop to feast on the fresh corpse of our enemy and theirs.
“You are wrong, Demersen. I remember well why Circe forbids us devouring Corym and it is not out of fear but wisdom.” Mughuk dares to move from the spot Demersen imprisons him, pushing the slime demon’s spiral to enlarge or fall as he orates, “You see, the Primes though not individually as powerful as Circe, are furious foes. They command the ancient Stelc, war magics and a small army of each of their own kind. These are tools they wield against themselves now, leaving their backs open, begging to be stabbed.”
Certain now that more than half the demons of the troupe are convinced, Mughuk phases out entirely from Demersen’s slimy prison, his shadowed form holding onto nothing of the demon’s acid as he does. “Retribution should come. It is part of the hunt. If prey only prance and flee without giving up a fight, then what worth is it as prey? What worth are we as the hunters seeking flesh and Essence from the weak and incapable? I say we remind ourselves of that worth and charge into Corym with every intent on razing, looting and having it all for us, for the troupe!”
Unchallenged, a chorus of hails ring from the troupe as demons stand with him. The taste and smell of the Trirax and Caldri corpses tempting and inciting them to belief.
Good, it’s all according to-
“Mughuk!”
The hails and cheers for flesh and Essence halt at the sound of that booming voice. A rasping heat overtakes the small gathering of demons and all eyes turn from Mughuk to the Noble General of their troupe.
Circe is a massive demon. Standing near three metres tall on cloven hooves, he wields a rotund gut and thick arms of redhot brimstone wide as an adolescent drake. A face of blue fire engulfs the skull underneath and a mustache graces his visage in the form of red flame.
Mughuk postrates at the sight of the Noble General. Suppressing all thoughts and ideas of his schemes beneath a shroud of fear and awe, Mughuk hopes to continue his deception. It’s gone well so far and there’s no turning back now.
“Milord!” Mughuk greets with fervour, marrying his form to the ground.
Circe steps forward and the water basins boil. He glances at his troupe, gathered in their entirety before Mughuk prostrating.
“Lord, we were—” Helis attempts to speak but is silenced with but a fiery look.
“You have words for me, Mughuk.” Circe, the Vatreni demon of the fire divide of Hargoils far of legends says, his voice rolling in the crackling of his flames. “Rise and we will have them…in private.”
Mughuk does so but slowly, “Thank you, Milord.”
“What are the rest of you waiting for? Begone!” Circe booms, his word sending the demons of the troupe scrambling to their feet, tentacles and hooves. Demersen is the last to slither off, his Jaui form glaring at Mughuk with suspicion till the last moment.
A private audience with Circe may well be the opportunity Mughuk’s been looking for. No, not to murder— although that would be brilliant if he were at all capable of such— but to negotiate.
Circe will be without question if he were to scorch Mughuk where he stands. Only for a moment though as Mughuk now understands there are demons with ambitions greater than his own, demons like Hargoil. Whatever the beetle-demon intends Mughuk heartily acknowledges that his own plans are but a stepping stone for whatever Hargoil schemes.
Besides Hargoil there is Serin and perhaps to an extent Acas and some other demons of the troupe that have taken his word of Corym’s infighting and the opportunity to ascend to heart. No one would blink if Mughuk doesn’t return but he’s sown a seed of dissatisfaction and now every demon that ventures out for a hunt will be all too curious to resist visiting Corym.
Circe knows this, for all his command he cannot stop the troupe from hunting entirely. He has to address this ‘petition’.
Circe paces, arms folded and eyes lost in the flame of his skull. Mughuk doesn’t dare attempt to peek into the Noble General’s thoughts, far more concerned that he will peek into his own. The sweltering heat from his form does not put him through discomfort, though the light of his presence weakens the strength of his shadows.
“Tell me what it is you want, Mughuk. I will not force it out of you but if I discover later that you are deceitful…”
“Essence, Milord. I want enough Essence not to fear the light.” Mughuk it's not a complete lie, that's another reason for this. But Circe is the last person that needs to know the full truth of his ambitions, after all, he seeks to replace the demon as Noble General himself.
“Is that all? Essence is what drives you to risk my wrath?”
“Essence is life, Milord, it drives us all.”
“Is that so…well then, tell me all about what you’ve seen of Corym. If you lust so much for their Essence, then you must have a plan against their defence.”
Mughuk lets his mirth show, “Of course, the plan is simple. Devour the losing side and presently that is Trirax and Caldri.”
“Trirax and Caldri? Isn’t that too much for you to chew given their Primes?”
“That’s the brilliance of this civil war of theirs. Their greatest fighters are pressing the offence against the walled city, trying to get back in. Acas and I witnessed them fail. The Kimpe have taken the city for themselves. The Trirax Prime is reinforcing his goblin army while his herd is defended by a few demons weak enough for even Acas to gobble.” Mughuk gestures to the corpses they returned with as proof.
“And the Caldri Prime?”
“Dead before we got there.”
Circes hums, his mustache of flames wiggling as he scratches an overgrown chin, “And you say the Stelc remains docile?”
“Even as we slaughtered these ones, the ancient demon did not move or tremble.”
“Very well then. You press advantage, Mughuk, but you fail to have a plan still.” Circe says, clasping his arms behind his back as he leers down at Mughuk, “If anyone of the Primes still lives, especially that Trirax Ulx, then we must know their exact movements before we make any of our own. The Stelc looms over the camp you want us to charge into and any one of the Primes can rouse that beast to trample upon everyone and thing.”
Mughuk takes to kneel, “I am well suited for this task, Lord. I will venture ahead and scout, relay their locations and—”
“No, there is no need.” Circe says, balls of fire eying a spot past Mughuk intently, a great measure of mana surges around them, “I know where all my enemies are, always.”
It sounds like too good a promise not to be something more, but without sensing his mind break under pressure of an invader or his soul perceived by the Noble General’s sight, Mughuk sets aside his worries and bows still.
“This will be a great hunt, Lord Circe, I promise.”