<strong>The Queen, tagged La’cael’rah</strong><br/><br/>“La’cael’ rah…tell me about your home.”<br/><br/>The Queen’s soft voice wasn’t suited for the eerie halls of her layer. As she moved gracefully through the blood stained corridors in her bare feet, the mistress of hell was lost in thought. How and when had things changed so much over the past years? Hell used to be fun. Torture used to be creative and less…messy. She had always valued mental games, the illusions, depriving her prisoner’s the very pleasures for which they were brought in the second circle. It all fell apart when the Demon Lord started to interfere more actively in each of the seven layers. He never came by to visit of course, merely sending some of his loyal servants from the upper ranks to her council to push their “new laws” on her territory. Each time she declined their “generous” offers, leaving Erato to deal with them on her behalf and it always seemed to work. No one visited the succubi anymore to meddle in their affairs, which was more than she could ask for. And now, she was this close in achieving her goal.<br/><br/>The presence of the angel was a mystery however and ‘till now none of her servants came to claim him. The fear of her wrath was a very motivational reason for going into hiding. The Queen still had no idea what to do with him, but as far as she was concerned, angels were more than eager to forgive and forget. Besides, it’s not like she would pass the opportunity to use him for her benefit.<br/><br/>As she listened to the fae’s chirping voice, the Queen seemed to forget the pressing matters of her realm. He was truly innocent and exotic, the first in a long line of skilled pretenders and false followers of chastity. A prey she will want by her side for a very long time, to mold and to mentor, someone for which the word “pure” held a meaning similar to the old ways. Her thoughts quickly drifted from the brownie to the enigmatic ruler of Khone. Or rather, future ruler if she had allowed it. Having him here, in her realm instead of going to pursue him in his beloved land only meant that she ached for a change. New game, new rules. Her only fear was that he might prove to be a disappointment until the end, like with all the other exceptional rulers before him. When it came to power and will, no one ever compared to the Demon Lord.<br/><br/>The road to the dungeons wasn’t a long one, but she took her time to show La’cael’rah “around”. Strangely enough, the mistress of hell took pride in her subject’s decorated chambers. Each was unique and carried its owner’s tastes and signature. This was the only part of hell in which luxury still had a saying..except maybe for the ninth circle.<br/><br/>“I see you….” Her words were outdone by a familiar voice. The strong timbre, the lingering vowels and the teasing tone.. similar to the ramblings of  a very naughty child. She went forward, knowing that her fae was close behind. As she turned to the right, passing the tall rock which was used to signal the entrance to the lower floors, the Queen became witness to a surprising view.<br/><br/>No less than 20 feet away a large creature was blocking her view of the other entrance. Large horns adorned his bovine head, while all of its body was covered in thick, greasy fur. The minotaur’s stance was threatening, ready to lunge, but his features revealed a baffled expression. The lower part of its body was obscenely stiff, something which she thought it would never surprise her, but here it was, too vulgar even for the Queen of all whorish demons. Facing him from what looked like to be a safe distance was one of her most treasured subjects, although most of the time she was a rare sight to behold within the demon’s realm. She also held on to her human appearance with great devotion. Callisto was the wildest of her followers and from the Queen’s point of view she loved the human realm a bit too much for her own good.<br/><br/>“Callisto..” she called with a motherly tone, as if scolding a child. “We do not allow animals here.”<br/><br/><br/><strong>The guardian gargoyle, tagged Magnus Thane</strong><br/><br/>First the clawed fingers started to unclasp themselves from the marble pedestal with a loud crack. Then its wings spread achingly slow to the sides, like an old man stretching his arms after a deep slumber. With one talon placed firmly on the ground, the gargoyle pushed himself out of the alcove and landed on the stone ground with a thud. Its glowing red eyes were focussed on the man’s large back, aiming for that weak spot on a human’s neck, the jugular vein. Its peak opened wide and the huge sculpture darted forward, arms stretched in front to get a better grip on its meal. For too long he had waited patiently for something to satiate the hunger. Abandoned by all, forgotten by all. No one ever escaped from the dungeons.<br/>