The Economic Woes of the Lord of Evilland
Epic #9 - The Sentinel Hill Death Derby pt. 4
The crowd cheers in joyous celebration upon witnessing their emperor's glorious victory over the abomination of putrid flesh via the holo-projector in the arena – completely oblivious to the true nature of the events that transpired. “See? Everything worked out!” Lavinia proclaims as she puffs out her chest with pride in this accomplishment. “Now surely my lord will recognize the value of my services and see me with new eyes – hungry eyes that want a little taste of that sweer, sweet bod every teen in Evilland wants a piece of!”
“And maybe even more than that...” the hippie adds. “You just might be the one to change this great beast of a man – make him settle down and spend his days devoted to a single partner and some little ones running around...”
“Rach, you know that this guy kills his kids, right?” Audrey asks sarcastically. “Let's be real here – the best that any girl that catches his eye can hope to achieve is become one more member of the harem, and he tends to execute them for the slightest offenses. Trust me, no one really wants that.”
“Says you!” Lavinia retorts. “I would sell my soul just for the chance to join that group of lucky girls! To know my lord in ways that no one else ever could is the fulfillment of all my greatest ambitions.”
“Sure it would – anyway...” the punk girl segues on towards a new topic. “Speaking of 'selling your soul' and what-not, just what did this bargain you made with the demon cost you?”
“Sure it would – anyway...” the punk girl segues on towards a new topic. “Speaking of 'selling your soul' and what-not, just what did this bargain you made with the demon cost you?”
“Oh? That? Don't you worry about that!” Lavinia reassures her friend with a slight wave of the hand. “All I have to do is provide a night of pleasure to the winner of the 'Chariotworld' magazine sweepstakes – and I already know who that's going to be! It's nothing that you or I haven't already done before...”
“Lav, there's a bit of a difference between getting drunk and giving out bjs to the death derby team and this” Audrey rebuts. “This isn't some spur of the moment thing at a party – you will be all alone with some random stranger that you are contractually obligated to service, one picked out by a demon no less! There's no telling what kind of sick shit he will require of you and you can't just walk away!”
“And what if he's not pleased with you? There's no telling how he will respond!” the hippie adds. “Please tell me that you have given at least some thought to your own safety – I don't want to go your funeral!”
“Oh guys... I'm touched that you look out for me” Lavinia responds with tenderness in her voice as she places her arms around her friends. “But if there's one thing I've gotten very good at over the past year, it's dying for my lord – trust me, there's nothing that can happen to me here that hasn't already been done.”
“Well, I suppose that it's too late to back out now...” the hippie laments. “I just hope that your lord appreciates what you are doing for him...
***
The Hellfire chariot carrying the Lord of Evilland and his finance minister pulls into the stable just outside the arena looking a little bit worse for wear after the ordeal with the spectral wraiths – the emperor and his faithful adviser looking no better. “Well, that certainly went...” the orc minister pauses. Uh... Yeah – it most certainly did happen.”
“Yes, most certainly” the Lord of Evilland replies. “During that... Incident... Uh... Some things might have been said in the heat of the moment. The Lord of Evilland just wants to let you know that those words shouldn't be taken too seriously.”
“Is this an apology?” the minister queries. “If so, than I see no reason why I shouldn't accept – and offer one of my own for speaking out of turn during a battle that wasn't going our way...”
“Apology? Ha!” the emperor rebuffs. “The Lord of Evilland never makes apologies for what he does – but he most certainly can say that he might have regrets about them and that certain things can be safely dismissed on account of later developments.”
“Of course...” the orc minister relents – knowing full well that this is as close as his lord ever comes to admitting fault. “Let's just try to work together more closely in the future to avoid misadventures like this in the future – for the sake of Evilland.”
“For the sake of Evilland!” the emperor repeats back to his minister as he dismounts the chariot. “But now let us put such matters behind us – the Lord of Evilland wishes to forget this mishap celebrate this event! Come enjoy the feasting, wine and young girls provided for this occasion – a brand new batch of concubines has just come in from a favorite supplier of the Lord of Evilland and they are of the highest quality!”
“That is certainly tempting, my lord” the orc replies. “But I have a lot on my plate today and really need to get back to the lair – there's no shortage of balance sheets to go through and funds to allocate for projects related to the ongoing war efforts. Perhaps another time.”
“Well, it's your loss!” the emperor exclaims as he heads towards the arena doors. “The Lord of Evilland will see you tomorrow for a briefing on the financial status of his kingdom – provided that he isn't too occupied with wine and concubines to leave his chambers!”
And that's what I'm afraid of... the orc minister leaves unsaid as he takes the diomedan horses off the harness and walks them into the stalls. You always put pleasure before business and it's not providing any benefit to your kingdom...
***
“Welcome back my lord!” Lavinia shouts with glee as the emperor returns to the throne room of the arena, throwing herself at his feet as he takes his lavishly decorated seat. “So, what do you think? Did I come through for you or what? You have no idea what that took – what infernal bargains I had to make to get the job done! Would you like to hear all about how faithfully and wonderfully I served you today?”
“Meh...” the emperor grunts with frustration, not wanting to be reminded of what transpired ealier that day. “Perhaps later – the Lord of Evilland wishes to sit back and enjoy what remains of the death derby before indulging in feasting and revelry. He hears that Geoffrey Eepstin has a fresh offering of young concubines that need to be broken in before the night's end and he wishes to save his strength for that.
“Wait a minute...” Lavinia pauses. “You mean... The Geoffrey Eepstin? I heard that he killed himself some time back!”
“Oh, the Lord of Evilland is well aware of those rumors” the emperor elaborates. “But he assures you that they are greatly exaggerated – he merely went on an extended vacation on advice from that goblin intelligence minister that's obsessed with stabbing people. The whole story of his death was merely a ploy to throw off the elves that his enemies allegedly conspired with around the time of the Pizza Shed incident: all sorts of rumors were swirling about how he was keeping his merchandise in the basements of pizza parlors and what-not and he needed to get away for a while – let all the hoopla die down.”
“Wow...” Lavinia whispers with amazement. “There's so much I wasn't privy to back then – but now that I'm 'in the know' will I have an opportunity to meet him? He's a legend in the concubine industry! Before I started interning with you, I was hoping that I could get into that business – partly for the money, partly to get back at my folks for trying to force me into a more traditional lifestyle.”
“Eh, perhaps later – he's still laying low for now” the emperor answers. “Still concerned about elven assassins and such after the strange events happening all over Evilland. For now, come join the Lord of Evilland as he awaits the conclusion of the derby – the remaining charioteers will be crossing the finish line soon and then the scores shall be tallied: the Lord of Evilland wishes to know who shall be joining him in his victory celebration...”
***
The Hell Raiders, at long last, reach the finish line of the Sentinel Hill Death Derby – the roar of a great crowd of thousands of beings greet them as banners bearing the emblems of the competing teams are waved with enthusiasm as the rig driven by “The Scarred” pulls over to the service pit after enduring a substantial beating during the event: between the mass slaughters of unsuspecting villagers and the rather unexpected fight against a monstrosity of putrid, necrotic flesh the chariot is now significantly worse for wear from the moment it began the event.
“Ha! We iz gonna be in da top five for sure!” the orc team captain gleefully shouts as he points towards the holo-projector as it displayed the summaries of the scores for the competitors. “We easily got the top spot for da carnage score – none a deez gits got anythin' even close to us!”
“The fact that those we were most concerned about getting shredded by a monstrosity from the realm beyond death probably has a lot to do with that...” the driver noted to his captain before putting down the reigns to the rig. “I doubt that anyone could have anticipated running into something like that on the course – no one was really prepared for that kind of encounter and we are gods damn lucky to have made it out alive.”
“You think about this shit way too much!” the wolfman chided his teammate as he dismounted the rig. “ Look at us – we made it here, didn't we? Just enjoy the carnage, lose yourself in the moment of the blurring of the lines of life and death, savor the taste of blood in the air as you take life and all will be fine in the end! ”
I'm sure that most of our competitors believed the same thing... the driver mused to himself as he left the rig in the care of the pit crew. If there's one thing I've learned from life, it's that things rarely work out in the manner you intend them to – and it's about time that I teach that lesson to a certain fool who put me in this position...
“Well, it looks like we iz gonna get da honna a bein' guests a da Lord a Evilland hisself” the orc captain commented as he walks his team to the lockers. “We haz best clean up ta make a good impression at da celebration of our triumph!”
“Yes – we mustn't disappoint our host tonight...” the driver replies with disdain in his voice, casting a firm glance towards the pocket of his leather armor. Tonight there will be no distractions, no interruptions – tonight there will be change. The Decaying Eagle has set the stage and all I need do now is act... he silently ponders as the team disappears from the view of the ecstatic crowd.
***
The banquet room of the Sentinel Hill Arena has been set – large display tables filled with the finest delicacies are spread out before a great hall of marble flooring, massive pillows filled with the down of thousands of birds lining the sides of the polished walkway that leads towards a staircase: at the top of which stands a great, lavish throne adorned with golden skulls on the armrests in the grasp of a myriad of tentacles carved from a solid block of dark basalt stone. The Lord of Evilland makes his entrance into the chamber, his intern and race queen model in tow behind him, and makes his way towards the throne where he confidently takes his place upon it as his faithful intern stands off to his right side while bearing an enthusiastic grin.
“Oh gods, this is so exciting!” she squeals with barely-contained glee as she clasps her hands in front of her. “This has got to be the victory party of all victory parties – I can only imagine the legendary antics that will happen tonight!”
“Do contain yourself, minion” the emperor responds nonchalantly. “Let the guests arrive first before losing your composure – at least take in a few goblets of wine before letting yourself go...”
“Sorry...” the intern replies sheepishly. “I just can't wait for the fun to begin!”
“Well, the Lord of Evilland seeks to enjoy the revelry as well, but he remembers that this is truly about making an impression upon the victors” the emperor begins to lecture. “All in attendance tonight were at the top of the carnage score of the derby and thus are prime candidates for the shock cavalry of the Lord of Evilland – he must impress them with a display of wealth to convince them to sign up for the wars against his numerous enemies...”
“You are so right my lord!” the intern agrees. “And so strong and clever too! I can't imagine a better overlord to have the pleasure of working under and I really hope that you feel...”
“Silence minion!” the emperor rebukes his overzealous intern. “The guests are coming – just keep standing there and make your lord look good!”
Within moments, the victors of the death derby event strutted into the hall in single-file - all manner of man, beast and combination of beast and man approach the staircase before bowing to the ground before their host upon the throne before them. Once all had arrived and taken their proper place, the Lord of Evilland gives the command to close the doors to the hall with a gesture of his hand to the guards at the entrance as he rises to greet his guests.
“Champions of Evilland” he begins his speech. “All of those gathered here have earned the right to claim that title this day – let no one say otherwise! Your lord wishes to honor your accomplishment this night with a token of appreciation here in this banquet hall with the hope that you might take to heart his generosity and goodwill to those that bring great pride to his kingdom, and so that you might be convinced to bring even further pride to Evilland and its lord in the days to come. Know that you will be called upon by your lord in the near future and that you must strive to prove yourselves champions yet again, but also know that your continued service to Evilland shall be rewarded beyond even your wildest dreams! But that is the future - for tonight, avail yourselves to all that this place has to offer! Revel and make yourselves merry!”
That was just too perfect! the intern muses to herself as she watches the speech from the side of her master's throne. I'm so glad that I spent all night obsessing over just the right words for this occasion and rehearsing with my lord for three hours to get this moment of utter perfection - it was totally worth the tantrums, the destroyed furniture and threats to decapitate me to get to this point!
“And now to introduce to you the entertainment of the evening!” the emperor continues as he claps his hands twice to signal the servants to bring in the concubines: the doors of the hall are opened by the guards once more and a line of girls bound in chains, dressed only in loin cloths and thin, satin bras are marched into the chamber. “What is a banquet in Evilland without feasting, wine, revelry and fine, young slaves for your pleasure?” the emperor rhetorically questions as he gestures to the scantily-clad females as the guards command them to kneel before the emperor.
“We are here to live and die for your pleasure” all the slave girls announce together in unison through massive, toothy grins - “our bodies are vessels for your desires this night.”
“Well, enjoy yourselves champions” the emperor concludes his address to the guests assembled before him - “the Lord of Evilland requires a trip to the buffet tables at this moment, so help yourselves to whatever you desire here!” he adds as he grabs a silver platter and fills it with jelly donuts from the table.
***
Among the guests assembled in the banquet room are the Hell Raiders – the team driver, still clad in his leather armor and mask, merely looks on as the emperor gives his address from the marble staircase. Look at this blathering fool he says to himself silently. I only need pretend to be subservient to this jackass for a little while longer – let him fill his gullet with food and wine so that he is in a heavy stupor when I make my move...
“Wooooah!” the wolfman's voice suddenly interrupts the thoughts of “The Scarred” with a loud howl - “check out the girllies over there! I call dibs on the little elf chick!” he proudly announces to the world as he rushes over to the line of slave girls gathered for display and begins feeling up her waist before drawing her close to him. “How about you show me what you can do there on those pillows?”
“I... I live...” the small elven maiden stutters as she struggles to maintain her outwardly cheerful grin. “I live and die... for...”
“Come on” the wolfman coaxes her. “Show Fenrick over here what you're made for, you little whore...”
“I live and...” the elf girl stammers out as her grin slips and tears begin to run down her cheeks - “die for your pleasure!” she manages to blurt out just before collapsing on the floor of the banquet hall sobbing uncontrollably.
“Ha!” the orc captain exclaims at the sight of this commotion. “Looks like ya gots yourself a bad one dere! If dis one iz no good to ya, wez can feed her to da horses.”
“No need for that...” the worlfman mutters just before extending his claws – with one solid swipe, he spills the bowels of the young elf on the floor and proceeds to feast upon the organs of the corpse with gusto as all the other derby champions look on and laugh at the fate of the slave girl.
“Heh – guess dat takes care a dat” the orc captain blithely comments as he turns his attention to the remaining slaves. “So, who ova dere wants ta show Tharook a good time?” he rhetorically questions as he struts over to a slave he picked out: a dwarf girl that's obviously struggling to maintain composure as she shakes with fear while not compromising her grin as the orc casually picks her up into his arms.
“I shall live and die for your pleasure!” the dwarf girl replies through her forced grin as a single tear rolls down her cheek. “What would you have me do, my lord?”
“I gonna show ya on the pillows over dere!” the orc boasts as he carries off terrified slave girl – within moments, the other champions take their pick among the girls and follow the orc to the place of revelry.
Well, I suppose it will take some time for the food and wine to adequately slow the mind of body of the fool... “The Scarred” ponders to himself upon observing the incident with his teammates. Perhaps I should avail myself of a concubine while I'm here to pass the time – the halfling girl over there looks good...
“You there – show me your talents on the pillows, will you?” he says calmly to the slave girl. “This will be a night to remember and I want to start it off just right.”
“Indeed you do my lord – I live and die at your pleasure!” the halfling replies without hesitation. “What would you have me do for you?”
Many things... the chariot driver says silently. Both on the pillows and afterwards – you most certainly will live and die for my pleasure, as will many before this night is over...
***
Some hours have passed – the guests have feasted and reveled with the concubines as servants cleaned up the blood and gore left on the marble floor from the incident with the wolfman and the elf girl as the emperor watched on as he gorged himself on several plates of his favorite jelly donuts and copious amounts of wine.
“Ahh...” the emperor moans with delight as he pats his stomach. “The Lord of Evilland needs respite from his gorging – perhaps he shall...” he pauses to release a hiccup before resuming his sentence. “...take one of Geoffery Eepstin's tributes on the pillows.”
“My lord, what if you don't need a concubine?” the intern and race queen who has stood at the side of her lord all night inquires as she leans into his ear. “What if there's someone here who is willing to do anything to please you? And I mean anything you desire – no limits whatsoever.”
“Ha!” the emperor exclaims loudly as he rises clumsily from his throne – his sense of balance impacted by all the fatty foods and intoxicating beverages he has consumed during the banquet. “Where's the fun in taking one who is willing when there are potential victims ripe for deflowering? The Lord of Evilland wants to make some unwitting soul suffer for his carnal pleasures tonight!”
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Just as the emperor had finished rebuffing his faithful servant's advances, the masked driver of the Hell Raiders casually approached the throne of the Lord of Evilland. “Huh, why have you approached the throne? Is the banquet...” he pauses once again to release yet another hiccup. “...to your liking? Is more not the spread before you appealing? Perhaps you have specific tastes in concubines that the selection doesn't cater to?”
“The issue I have is not with the banquet itself – it's with the one who hosts it” the masked driver replies coldly. “That fool ruined many years of work that I had put in to advance myself – nearly trapping me in a life of perpetual destitution and wage slavery because of his incompetence and lack of discipline.”
“What are...” the emperor pauses to release yet another hiccup, “...you implying here? Has the Lord of Evilland ever wronged you? Explain yourself this instant!”
“I see that you don't know of what I speak” the driver retorts. “Before I was known as 'The Scarred' I was on a very different path – one of advancement up the corporate ladder from the position of a lowly wage laborer to management.”
“Wage laborer? Management? What in all the hells are you...” the emperor abruptly stops his rant and leans forward towards “The Scarred” as he detects something familiar about him. “Wait a moment – your voice. The Lord of Evilland has heard it before...”
“Indeed you have!” the driver shouts as he removes the mask to reveal his true identity.
“You... You're my old boss – Mr... uh...” Lavinia chimes in before suffering a momentary relapse in memory. “I'm sorry – it's been a while since we last spoke – what's the name again?”
“It was Thomas Simms!” the now-unmasked driver barks in return to the intern. “Not that the name means anything to me now – that one is ruined thanks to you blackmailing me into ever hiring this big goon! The day of the McBurgerprince massacre saw to it that I would never work in fast food again!”
“Ah, so you are the ungrateful little...” the emperor pauses for yet another hiccup, “...bastard that fired the Lord of Evilland after he showed you his favor in ridding your establishment of a mad necromancer!”
“Your favor cost me everything!” the former manager-turned-charioteer angrily shouted to the emperor. “Corporate fired me! My family disowned me! I didn't even have a place to bed down within a month of that incident! But it was in my despair that I learned things – in turning to Tzurgle in my hour of desperation, I was shown your true past: I know about your transformation – the betrayal of Miina and Chorneesh's Trial of Love. And I know about how this allowed to become what you are” he continues as he produces the glass bead from his leather armor and presents it to the Lord of Evilland.
In that moment, the emperor is without any response – upon hearing this stranger speak of his darkest secrets, he freezes and can only stand dumbstruck as his mind leaves that place...
***
It is not the banquet hall or the unmasked guest that the emperor sees before him – it is a cave in the lands far north of Evilland near the reality nexus that appears in his mind's eye. He observes a small fire pit burning close to the entrance with Miina, a young elf girl with curly, red hair, lays sleeping off to his left beneath a blanket whilst a virgin they purchased at a market in some no-name town slept off to his right as he had first watch of the night.
He sees himself tend to the flame as thoughts of the ritual Miina spoke to him of whirl through his head – the Trial of Love: the means through which a god would be called to earth via a profane sacrifice at a lost alter near the very edge of reality itself to make their dreams of significance in this world come into fruition – or so that's what she had promised him. The details of the rites to be conducted she was rather vague on, saying that they were too complicated to be explained to those not inclined towards the arcane, but he trusted her implicitly as the only family he has ever known since the days of his childhood.
Just as he places one last log on the fire, he senses a strange presence coming from the depths of the cave – not a voice, but an inexorable feeling that calls to him as he rises to his feet. Step by step, he marches off away from the light of the fire into the darkness of the cavern where he is soon greeted by an odd mist that possesses an incandescent pale-green glow: first it settles near his feet, then rises up to his knees and then it completely surrounds him – shrouding his vision to anything more than a few feet from his face.
Then, out of the mist a figure emerges – one with the large head of a bird of prey that appears to be molting: feathers being patchy with large areas of exposed skin which are inflamed with red pustules that ooze with mucus. The head of the figure calmly looms over him from above with the rest of the figure's apparently massive body being obscured by the mist.
“What is it that you want with Zhorg?” the emperor hears himself utter in confusion when faced with this unknown entity.
Just has the question leaves his mouth, an extended claw comes forth from the pale-green mist – in it lies a glass bead clutched in the talons. “Take this – you shall know what to do when the time comes” the figure utters ominously...
***
“How... How did you get that?” the emperor stutters after several moments of silence now that his thoughts have returned to the present. “You mentioned Tzurgle – did he have something to do with this?”
“Indeed” the unmasked charioteer replies. “And Soorth'rel the Eternal Watcher sends his regards...” he utters just as he places the glass bead between his teeth and bites down with all his might, releasing green vapor that pours from his mouth like smoke as he drops to the floor while moaning in agonizing pain as he clenches his throat.
“What in all da hells is happen' here?” the orc question shouts in confusion as he rushes over to the fallen driver for his team. “Go get a docta, double quick!”
No sooner than the orc finishes speaking, an elongated tendril leaps out of the mouth of the driver and pierces his neck – within moments, his flesh, bones and sinews are liquefied as the tendril “drinks” his contents: leaving nothing but empty skin behind on the floor.
In a matter of seconds the banquet hall is filled with panic – both slaves and champions take to flight before this horror as the even more tendrils spring forth from the body of “The Scarred” and consume all that they entangle: the liquefied mass contributing to the increasing size of the corpse from which the tendrils emerge from – soon all but the emperor and his intern are devoured as the two look on the carnage, stunned at the sight that plays out before them.
“Seriously? Yet another abomination of flesh?” the emperor questions incredulously. “Are the gods mocking the Lord of Evilland today? What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself this instant!”
“You fool...” answers a gurgling voice from within the mass of flesh. “Surely by now you must know the ways of the Decaying Eagle of Change – how he first allows for rot and entropy to take hold before accelerating the process? Just as the rotting wood of a diseased forest catches flame to consume the dying foliage, so does he allow kingdoms to decay before destroying them suddenly through a great crisis.”
“And the slaying of the Lord of Evilland would be that crisis then? You are the fool if you believe you can do that!” the emperor retorts angrily. “Many have tried to slay him and all have failed – come add your worthless corpse to the pile!” he adds ass he draws his axes and readies himself for battle.
As the emperor finished speaking, a series of elongated spines appear on the body of the bloated driver – immediately launching themselves in mass volleys at the Lord of Evilland. The heavily-armored warrior, still slowed from the enormous amounts of food and wine consumed during the banquet, is yet able enough to dodge or parry the initial assault of spines but is not able to retaliate against the mass of infected flesh before he met with another volley of organic projectiles spewing forth from the great blob.
As the emperor battled the abomination, the intern and race queen takes refuge behind her master's throne – remembering her encounter with the mercenary some months ago that resulted in little more than a meaningless series of injuries, she realized that she would be of no value to her lord in combat with this monstrosity even as a simple distraction. And yet she still desires to see how her role model fares against the beast, so she pokes out her head from behind the throne for but a moment: a moment in which the tendrils of the monster wrap themselves around her and drag her towards the bulk of the putrid flesh in the center.
“Don't think you will escape judgment, you psycho bitch!” the gurgling voice calls out from amidst the fetid pustules that was once the body of a human being. “It's your fault that this violent buffoon was employed by my establishment in the first place – you will see him slain by my newfound might, then you will nourish me as the others have.”
“Hold on...” Lavinia interrpts the abomination of her former fast food manager. “You are still mad at me because I threatened to reveal the secret of the batter-dipped nuggets?”
“Don't be ridiculous!” the blob roars in reply as it continues to launch volleys of spines at the emperor. “Everyone knows that secret by now – that common chicken byproducts as used as filler to cut costs on procurement of virgin flesh! It's the result of that threat for which you must pay – and then McBurgerprince corporation will be made to suffer afterwards!”
“Oh my gods...” the intern mutters under her breath upon the full realization of the madness of this former man – to claim the authority to punish a corporation sanctioned by Evilland itself is nearly unheard of: some would say that it's less blasphemous to challenge the gods themselves than to attack the source of Evilland's prosperity! “My Lord – he's completely lost his mind!” Lavinia shouts frantically to her master. “Don't mind me – kill this thing at any cost!”
“And what do you think...” the emperor pauses for a hiccup, “...that the Lord of Evilland has been doing? He hasn't been able to get close to this thing!” he continues as he dodges yet another volley of spines followed by slashes from the tendrils.
Just as it seems that the battle of titans has settled into a stalemate, a crimson mist appears above the fray – filling the entirety of the banquet hall, accompanied by the crackling of bolts of gold lightning, the mist begins swirling around a vortex that hovers just above the pillows upon which the champions recently reveled with the slave girls: within moments the mist took the form of a four-armed being that stood about thirty feet in height – an embodiment of Chorneesh, the god of war, bloodshed and carnal pleasure himself had come.
“So this is what has become of my son...” the god mutters with severe disappointment. “Surely you have the means to dispose of this crude servant of Tzurgle at your disposal, yet you do not make use of it.” the deity continues as he uses one pair of arms to sort through the pillows, now covered in blood and other bodily fluids, for one that he finds particularly thoroughly stained to enjoy the scent of.
“Have you simply come here to mock the Lord of Evilland?” the emperor queries sarcastically. “Your son is more than a little busy dealing with a champion of your rival here and would very much appreciate it if you were to offer a hand – if not, than leave him be!”
“Oooh...” the god of carnal pleasures moans in delight upon taking scent from a particularly drenched pillow as he reaches out to the buffet table with the other set of arms to sample the delicacies that haven't yet been consumed before the feast became a massacre. “This is good stuff you have here, my son – it's just too bad that you can't really appreciate the other side of pleasure taken from excess suffering as well...”
“For the last time...” the emperor pauses for yet another hiccup as he parries several slashes from the tendrils of the blob before him. “Either assist the Lord of Evilland or go the fuck away!”
“There's no need for that attitude, son...” the god chides the emperor. “In a way, I already have offered my assistance to you – and yet you refuse to take it. You didn't make use of my greatest gift to you against the abomination conjured by the spectral wraiths and you refuse to make use of it now, even when your very life depends upon it. What must be done to make you tap into its power and admit what both of us already know?”
“You know damn well what the answer is...” the emperor mutters as he parries another volley of spines, blocking all but one – one that finally finds its mark and pierces his armor of his left shoulder. “Uhg! That pile of pulp will... Will...” the emperor stammers before he falls to the floor in pain as the poison courses through him.
“Well, it's now or never my son...” the multi-armed god nonchalantly utters as he picks out a few snacks from the table. “What's it going to be – will you learn to enjoy the pleasure of suffering and the power that comes from it? Or will you just lie there and wait for the next volley to pierce your heart next?”
“You son of a bitch!” the emperor shouts at his father with all the strength he can muster as he finally obeys the will of the evil god – with but a thought, he sets free the magic contained within his cursed armor: the coloration of the red plates begins to flow through the black ones – the contrast appearing as blood traveling through glowing vessels over the armor. With a bolt of unholy energy, the emperor leaps to his feet and begins dashing towards the abomination with speed so great that the eye can barely follow his movements.
Within moments, the Lord of Evilland had closed the distance with the abomination – neither the spines nor the slashing tendrils are able to touch the emperor as he begins to remove the pustules of the beast one by one with the whirling of his axes: before the champion of Tzurgle realized what had happened, he had been reduced to a pile of flesh and green blood on the floor of the banquet hall - forever denied the vengeance he sought.
But the emperor is unable to enjoy his victory – a force from within the armor has taken hold of his consciousness and he struggles to break from it...
***
The Lord of Evilland stand outside himself – watching as a third-party as his hulking form lays waste to Tzurgle's champion with blow after crippling blow, each strike severing a vital piece of the monster with astonishing speed and power with near effortless motion. He senses himself slowly drift away from the action as a thick fog surrounds him: obscuring his view of the massacre that he would otherwise enjoy if not for this circumstance of being separated from it.
“Zhorg?” he hears a voice call to him from the surrounding fog. “Zhorg? Are you here?”
“Regrettably, he is indeed here...” the emperor coldly answers. “The father of the Lord of Evilland left him without much choice in this matter – make this easier on yourself and upon him and just leave him be for once.”
“Oh Zhorg, you don't know the pain I endure here” the voice replies. “All these years of seeing what you are becoming – it's torture!”
“You should have thought about that before you tricked the Lord of Evilland into this 'Trial of Love' bullshit!” the emperor shouts in rage at the disembodied voice in the fog. “It's because of you that he turned to his father in desperation – because of you that he has become what he is!”
“I know all that!” the voice answers with overwhelming sorrow. “It's my fault that the only person I ever loved is now suffering like this and it breaks what's left of my heart! All I want from you is a little bit of mercy – please console me with the knowledge that your hatred of me has lessened after all this time!”
“Not a chance you elven bitch” the emperor roars into the thick fog that surrounds him. “It was a mistake for the Lord of Evilland to ever put any faith in you! He should have known from the beginning that you are all alike and are worthy of nothing but enslavement and death – he should have struck you down back in his childhood and just taken what he wanted from your corpse!”
“Zhorg...” the voice pauses as a floating magenta sphere emerges from the mist in front of the emperor's face. “Don't you think this cycle has gone on long enough? Don't you think that it's time that we at least try to move forward? At least give me the comfort of a small measure of forgiveness for my sins against you! It's the least you can do for me now that my blood and soul gives you new life and strength.”
“NO!” the Lord of Evilland barks at the sphere as he reaches out to grasp it in his hands. “You owe the Lord of Evilland so much more than that – your debts with him are so great that they can never be repaid! Do you not understand this?”
“But...” the voice from the sphere sobs. “But surely debts can be forgiven, yes? I know that you loved me once and that hope that a part of you still does because only you have the power to forgive so that...”
“SHUT UP!” the emperor bellows with fury. “The Lord of Evilland has had it with you Miina – get out of his head!”
“But...” the voice from the sphere attempts to interject.
“But nothing!” the emperor interrupts. “Leave him alone!”
***
As the champion of Tzurgle is torn asunder, the tendrils that gripped the intern loosen their grip on her – sending her crashing to the floor below, her fall cushioned by the chucks of flesh left behind the emperor as he dismantles the beast. “I'm alive! I'm alive!” she shouts in celebration as she rises to her feet to graciously thank her savior.
“I knew that you would come through for me – you really do care!” the intern and model cries out as she rushes towards the Lord of Evilland to greet him with an embrace.
“Get out of his head!” the intern hears her master bark as he drops his axes and run towards the walls of the banquet hall.
“My lord...” Lavinia pauses. “Are... Are you ok?”
“But nothing!” the Lord of Evilland continues to rage as he slams his head into the wall repeatedly. “Leave him alone!”
“Well, it seems you had a pleasant reunion with the one being you ever really loved – didn't you, my son?” the diabolical god sarcastically queries of the emperor as he continues to rant and slam his head into the wall repeatedly. “You really need to learn to enjoy her suffering – it powers you after all...”
“You...” the emperor responds to his father as he regains some control of himself. “The Lord of Evilland should kill you for this! He wishes to forget that she ever existed – let alone that she is always with him! There can be no pleasure in knowing this!”
“Oh son...” the god of bloodshed and carnal pleasures sighs with disappointment before sampling a few more items from the buffet table. “One day you will come to accept this – and you will enjoy every moment of it once you do. I know because they all do in time: and the perversity of that knowledge is what brings the greatest glory to me – you might even come to thank her for what she did as it led you to this otherwise unattainable height of ecstasy!
“You are full of shit!” the emperor roars at his divine father. “Leave the Lord of Evilland be so that he might find some solace in all this ruin...”
Without another word and a smirk on his face, Chorneesh dematerializes into a fine mist that vanishes into thin air – leaving only the emperor and his intern left among the carnage that was a scene of celebration not long ago. “Uh...” the intern chimes in awkwardly. “Is there... Anything you want from me, my lord?”
“The Lord of Evilland requires nothing from you at this moment” the emperor replies as he sits on the floor, resting his back against the wall.
“Are you sure?” the intern queries. “All you need to do is give the command and anything you want is done, my lord! I'll do whatever it takes to make this right for you and...”
“ENOUGH!” the emperor barks at his overzealous servant. “Just go – leave the Lord of Evilland alone to... Gather his thoughts.”
“As you wish, my lord...” the intern replies with resignation in her voice as she turns towards the door. Well, I hope you feels better about all this soon – but for now I have one last task to fulfill for you! I hope that you can appreciate what I go through for your sake... she silently says to herself as she walks out the door.
***
“Ok – deep breath, Lavinia” the intern and race queen says to herself as she approaches the home of Asmodeth. “Time to make good on your bargain with the demon...” With a knock on the door, she steels herself for what awaits her within the domicile of a servant of her master's father.
“Oh hey, honey!” the lisping voice of the demon is heard from behind the door - “Feel free to show yourself in – I just have some things going on in the kitchen here.”
Lavinia opens the door and makes her way into the home – taking note of the lavish decor of the living room as she makes her way to the kitchen area as the demon calls out to her. “Right this way, hon! We are just about ready for you!”
As she enters the kitchen, she is greeted by the sight of her host and his paramour Gruuther standing besides a large tub filled with vegetables – beside the tub is a gallon-sized container of a viscous liquid and a pair of brushes. “Alright sugar, you know the deal” the demon playfully chides his guest as he gestures towards the tub.
“Very well – I knew this was coming...” Lavinia says with a sigh as she disrobes. “Anyway, I hope that my boss appreciates the things I do for him...”
“Oh deary – I'm afraid that he's nowhere near appreciative of this” the demon rebuts her as he hands a brush to his paramour before dipping his own in the liquid. “It's just not in his nature to care about anyone – no amount of effort will change that” he continues as the two of them brush the oily liquid over the exposed body of the intern as she raises her arms to allow for liberal application beneath her pits.
“That's where you're wrong” she rebukes the demon - “I know that he cared very deeply for at least one person and that... OH!” she suddenly exclaims as she feels the caress of a hand on her ass.
“Looks like Gruuther is getting just a bit handsy” Asmodeth observes. “You really should wait until after she's done before doing anything like that – we don't go back on our bargains, ok?”
“Yeah!” Lavinia agrees without a second thought. “You should wait til I'm done before... Wait a minute – what's going to happen here besides some dining anyway?”
“Oh honey – you don't need to worry about that” the demon reassures her. “You'll be in the afterlife by then, so you won't even be aware of that stuff...”
“You know, it's probably best that I don't know...” the intern resigns her protest for fear of learning too much about her bargain. “Just so long as there's enough left of me to revive later, I'm ok with it – my boss will be horribly upset if I'm not back at work tomorrow, you know.”
“Of course, dear” the demon reassures Lavinia as he finishes up applying the liquid to her body and reaches for a set of binding cords. “You'll be in good shape to return to work tomorrow – I promise. And even if your boss didn't care, I certainly would: you are such a joy to work with in the studio and it would be a shame to deny myself the pleasure of your company in the future!”
“Well, I'm glad we're agreed on this” Lavinia remarks as the demon begins binding her hands and feet behind her back and placing her in the prone position in the tub. “I refuse to give up on seducing my boss and I can't do that if I'm permanently dead.”
“Well, I wish you a lot of luck with that – you will need all you can get” the demon quips as he produces an apple from the counter top. “By the way dear, hold this tight in your mouth...” he continues as he places the fruit between her teeth and lifts the tub along with Gruuther.
“The oven has been set to 400 degrees – it will take about six hours for you to properly cook” Asmodeth explains as the tub is hoisted onto the rack. “Then I will be the first demon to actually eat your pretty, little ass! See you later, hon!”
With that last comment, the door to the oven closes.