Hell is just that, even for those in the upper management so to speak. There is no pleasure, no joy, just endless suffering. But if one has resided there long enough, it is possible to navigate without too terrible of a time. That is until the unfortunate soul is found and returned to the fold of torment. Armaros despised his place in hell, he was a hunter. His sole purpose was to return those who slip through the cracks and bring new found horror to their eternity.<br/><br/>In the deepest pits there is no light, just black pitch drowning every sense. Every footfall sinks the damned into despair, but despair is a relief compared to the tortures of Armaros' unholy brethren. Usually when a soul went missing he could find it here, he himself radiated darkness. Even in the dark he was a black hole of maliciousness. He inhaled deeply, sweat and fear filled his nostrils. He was close, he stretched and trudged through the darkness.<br/><br/>Armaros sighed painfully, the never healed  twin wounds on his back a constant reminder of his sin. As he stepped through the darkness he could hear sobbing. He grinned evilly, knowing that whichever soul found this pit could see his sharp teeth glowing in the pitch.<br/><br/>When he reached the creature, it barely even pleaded with him. Armaros presumed that this had been one that escaped before, those who return to the darkness know the futility of running or begging for solace. Armaros was not a creature that provided solace.<br/><br/>As Armaros reached down to grip the creature he felt a familiar tug in the back of his mind. He listened carefully as ancient words were recited on the mortal plane. They pulled at him, but did not command him. He smiled wide, feeling self satisfied as he did every time he was summoned. He smiled not because of the short respite from Hell he was about to receive, but because once again his cleverness paid off.<br/><br/>Armaros stood straight and shifted forms, he now was invisible to the pathetic being at his feet. He wore mortal flesh again, he took a second to adjust to the skin sack and the straighten his tie, before stepping away to answer the summons.<br/><br/>The jolt between planes was never easy, his essence was owned by Hell and Earth wished to reject it. But a foolish human had opened a door and it would be rude to not step through.<br/><br/>He rose slowly out of a summoning circle on the mortal plane looking around and taking in the room in which he stood. Before him knelt a young woman, it always baffled him how modern magic seemed to only be practiced by females, well at least in the west.<br/><br/>He straightened his tie again and smiled to the remarkably attractive woman. "You called?" He asked in a debonair tone, his meat sack was attractive. Dark hair and piercing eyes, he noticed that he wore a beard this time. Apparently the style had changed since his last bout to Earth, humans were for fickle with their trends.<br/><br/><a class="username" data-user-id="8" data-username="@Alchemy" data-xf-init="member-tooltip" href="https://blackdahliaroleplaying.com/members/8/">@Alchemy</a>