<div class="floatleft">(http://i1131.photobucket.com/albums/m543/jakendy/Sp2.jpg)</div>Baa'lethor roared with laughter, leaning one elbow back on the table as he and the other Incubi that had taken an interest watched one of the new arrivals to the realm squirming and writhing against the tangle of barbed wire that surrounded her. The barbs were tearing long, agonizing gashes in the girl's pale, pink flesh as she screamed and struggled, desperately trying to free herself from the bundle of wire and razor sharp edges.<br/><br/>"Go on now, love. You're almost there, swing your leg around the other to get it free. You're almost there." Baa'lethor laughed, tossing a grape from the table at the starving, bleeding woman which bounced off of her face to the delight of those that were watching. "Go on, we know you're hungry, come to the table and feast with us."<br/><br/>Taunting the poor girl further, Baa'lethor broke off a mutton joint from the table in front of him, locking eyes with the mortal for just a moment before sinking his teeth into the warm, moist flesh and letting the juices dribble down his chin. As expected, the sight of the food renewed the girl's struggles, which in turn only wound her up, more inextricably than ever in the Gordeon's Knot of barbed wire. The other demons had taken it upon themselves to take up throwing grapes at the suffering, starving girl, laughing harder when she tried in vain to catch them with her cut and bloodied lips.<br/><br/>Baa'lethor was producing heavy spores of "Mirth and Diversion", which smelled of mulled wine, tangerines and roasted duck.<br/><br/>"Sir..." The Red Skinned Imp woman said gently, lowering her head and gaze until her head was lower than Baa'lethor's, as was custom. "His Majesty Lord Xenolord, has requested an audience."<br/><br/>The demons around Baa'lethor turned their taunts in his direction. Being summoned by one of the Greater Lords was seldom a good thing for lesser demons like them, such summons were most often due to some indiscretion for which the Lord wanted the culprit to answer. It didn't help matters much that Baa'lethor's conscience was anything but clean. What could he have done to anger his direct superior? Suddenly Baa'lethor's attitude, visage and even his scent grew cold and cautious. The spores of "Nervous Compliance" smelled like fresh cut grass and burning oak.<br/><br/>Helpless to deny the command of one of his superiors, Baa'lethor tossed his half eaten mutton joint onto the floor, close to where the girl was beginning to lose consciousness from the pain and starvation, before rising to his feet. He gestured for the She-Imp to lead the way, which she did.<br/><br/>Passing through Great Halls and mere hallways alike, Baa'lethor was guided back to the Demon Lord's personal armory. Just outside the door, he spotted Minixtra, a mortal who had only spent a few decades in hell. She wasn't old or strong enough to be considered a demon, but she used her body to sate the lust of many demons, which had allowed her to gain a reputation, rumors of her ascention to the rank of Succubus were running rampant. Perhaps that was why he'd been called, as a mentor. It seemed naive to hope for such a thing.<br/><br/>Baa'lethor moved easily beside the mortal woman, letting his hand come to rest easily on her firm backside while he leaned against the opposite side of the door frame. He'd brought his goblet full of brandy with him to meet the Lord. If he was going to be punished and made to suffer, he wanted to be properly shitfaced for that.<br/><br/>"Glasya?" Baa'lethor asked abruptly as he arrived, flashing Minixtra a playful wink while he continued to fondle her rear. "I thought that it was Baa'lethor who you required, Your Majesty."<br/><br/>Baa'lethor's accent was British, which led most Demons to assume that he'd been British in his mortal life, but he wasn't convinced. The ancient Incubus remembered almost nothing of his mortal life, and he spoke the way that he did because to his ear, it sounded far more fluid and persuasive. When his life was threatened, however, the accent was the first thing that Baa'lethor lost.<br/><br/>"What can a humble incubus such as myself do for the Mighty and Brave Lord Xenolord?" Baa'lethor asked, flashing a faked confident smirk. He wasn't confident, not at all, but he was producing spores of "Enthralling Admiration", which made the whole room smell of incense, expensive cologne made from whale blubber and pine needles. In the taught silence that followed, Baa'lethor made more spores, concentrating the scent. "Go on now, love. Run along."<br/><br/>A light swat on Minixtra's ass sent her scurrying off to do as she'd been commanded, leaving Baa'lethor alone with Xenolord who seemed to be gearing up for warfare. A fact that did little to ease his worry. Baa'lethor was a lover, not a fighter. At least in situations where he was given a choice.