Darkness and depravity. In the court of the Demon Lord, through the screams and howls of the tortured and condemned, misery is all you can feel. Women of red-skin and matching eyes walk amongst the assembled court, pouring drink and carving meat, occasionally stopping to pleasure on of the assembled. In two long, rectangular tables sit demons and creatures of your wildest nightmares, from the hellish Nightmare Arachnids, to the more common imps, gargoyles and creatures of the night. And, sitting at a lavish table of obsidian and gold sits the one who calls this hellish display of reverie his own.<br/><br/>On his throne of bone, there sits a man. More then a man, yet also less then one as well. In a coat of silver and gold, long purple hair falling about his back, the man watches everything before him, smiling a fang-laced smirk. His guests seem to be enjoying themselves, that is always good. The damned and the fallen. The corrupt and the powerful. These are the ones he calls friend. One of the red-skinned women, this one wearing an extravagant headdress, approached the man with a large jug in her arms. "My Lord." She spoke softly, bowing. "More wine?" The man leaned back in his chair and gave the girl a once-over.<br/><br/>"Of course my dear." He answered, holding out his goblet. "Being summoned<em>there</em>always makes me thirsty." He had just returned from being summoned. To Heaven, of all places. He had left that place behind eons ago, and wasn't too hot to return anytime soon. 'Give up everything for everlasting serenity.' Fuck that. Serenity isn't going to protect yourself, or get you anything. Power will. And power he had in spades. It was true that being in the presence of the Lord on High did burn him, significantly, he knew the pain was always transitory. The girl poured the thick red liquid into his goblet, the man offering her a nod in return.<br/><br/>"Is there anything else I may do to aid you, My Lord?" The man was about to answer with a no, but then smiled as he had a thought. Looking at one of the tables, a man sat, an Incubus in his service. He was a trusted friend, and a good worker.<br/><br/>"Yes, actually." He nudged his head towards the Incubus. "Inform Baa'lethor that when he has finished with his feast, I would very much like to speak to him. Inform him the matter is not urgent, and he should come at his own convenience." The woman bowed, gave a quick 'yes, My Lord' and hurried to the assigned task. "It's not like they can ever win, anyways." He mused to himself, taking a sip of his wine. "Ooooh, yea... that's the stuff."