<i>"What of it? Past your bedtime, old man? Can't handle a spry stallion that keeps you up...all. Night. Long?"  <br/>
</i><br/>Asteroth was a demon of standards. And those around him, both equal and beneath his station, respected those standards in every decision made. Every. Decision. Or else he would make his displeasure known in numerous, undesirable ways. As long as his influence held strong, Asteroth could shape the demon realm as he pleased. He might not be a king, but he was a prince, a king among The Circle, and as far as he was concerned he held Hell beneath his thumb. This particular decision was very important to him, very important indeed. He had particular tastes, particular wants and needs, and this moment, the choosing of Balam's future body, a mortal grown body he would someday delight with pleasure and share in all things perverse, was of utmost importance. While sex was easy to come by for a being who took what he pleased, Balam was different. The electricity they shared, the energy, the fucking, was so much better than anything he could get elsewhere, from fellow demon or mortal. When they united, it was as if they'd been molded from the same pit of darkness, birthed into existence from the very same evils.<br/><br/>And it was glorious.<br/><br/>As such he very much had a say in Balam's decision. The mortal had to be strong, sturdy, rugged . . . lascivious, wanton. And pleasing to Asteroth's eye. For a century they'd searched, the two of them, burned through more mortals than Asteroth could count, but they always lacked something. Too meek, too small, too weak, not tall enough, prudish, too young, too old. Too everything. But this man, finally, this man, Roark, pleased them both. As made evident by the growing tightness within the codpiece of his armor while Asteroth watched his partner brutally fuck the mortal warrior into the dirt for the dozenth time, completely lost in the abandon of claiming his future shell again and again. It had become somewhat of a game to them, Balam inciting jealousy in Asteroth's dark soul as he released himself inside another, Roark's begging moans only taunting the demon further. But the sex was always so good, so unbelievably good, afterwards. When the mortal fell asleep and Asteroth got his turn with Balam. He swore even the matrix of reality itself felt their pleasure, the shadows of Hell bending to their joining.<br/><br/>But that was not to happen on this night. Tonight was different. Balam had reached his limit, his mind beginning to fade into madness as most demons' tended, his strength weakening. Asteroth had even had to assist his fellow knight in phasing into the mortal realm this one last time. It was now that Balam had to place his physical mark upon the mortal body and allow himself to rest until reborn. And Asteroth would be sure to carry the process to completion for as heartless as he seemed, his friend would be dearly missed until the next solstice.<br/><br/>His cock would miss him at any rate.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><script class="js-extraPhrases" type="application/json">
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<br/>​</div>Asteroth had waited nearly a decade for the solstice, waiting and watching, ensuring Balam's mortal body did not get itself torn to shreds. Baby sitting this one was quite the task, a warrior, charging into battle as if already immortal, tearing his opponents to shreds. Roark had gotten lucky many times, more times than he knew, for it wasn't luck that kept each blade from piercing his heart, each arrow from finding purchase within an eye socket. Not luck at all luck, but Asteroth. Some days the demon grew quite frustrated and allowed a blade to make its mark, to remind Roark that he was not invincible.<br/><br/>He wouldn't have to keep up the charades for long, however. Because tonight, finally, was the solstice. The one night in a decade that the energies of Hell and the mortal realm aligned in such a way that mortal matter would be allowed into the shadows that Asteroth called home. That Roark, Balam, would soon also call home. The skies darkened, the air felt lighter. And Asteroth felt closer to the mortal realm than he had in years, closer to Roark, closer to Balam. He allowed himself to be seen by the mortal eye, hovering inches off the ground behind the man who stood ready to fight an unseen force.<br/><br/>"It's time to remember who you are, Balam. To remember<i>me</i>." Roark was not given time to react, Asteroth, face hidden behind the gleam of his helmet, moved forward with an unnatural speed, grasping the mortal by his nape and pulling him backwards. The world titled, warping into a portal as Asteroth dragged the warrior with him into Hell.<br/><br/>The journey, for a mortal body, would be quite the ordeal. The demon was not surprised to find that Roark had lost consciouness, but that was fine. He needn't be awake for the ritual. Depositing Balam's body upon a dias among three other mortals soon to experience a mind-breaking nightmare, he made his way to take his seat among his equals, the Knights of the Circle. Only three of them remained for now, until the ritual had been completed and the seven were united once more.<br/><br/>Until he and Balam were united once more.<br/><br/>The court held a massive gathering of lesser creatures, those unable to keep their minds strong and therefore unable to control their demonic shapes. Tentacles, beaks, fangs, feathers, puddles of filth and gore, limbs attached in disturbing manners, any mortal to wake would surely pass out again in sheer terror. But there was order to be had as the macabre masses silenced their cacophony of snarls and moans. Lucifer himself had stepped upon his throne. The court was silent, all eyes on their King. All eyes except for Asteroth's. His were on Roark.<br/><br/>"Let the rebirth commence!"