Three weeks ago, the iron fortress of the minor Balor lord Crimson Ash was left a charnel house.  A rival Balor, Belnades, had managed to temporarily strip the fortress of its protective warding, and while the small legion of Vrocks he had been able to muster had still been in the midst of exterminating Crimson Ash's remaining followers, Belnades himself had already pinned the would-be lord to his iron throne with a flaming sword, ripped his rival's head from his shoulders through pure brute strength, and was even then quite busy cutting open his chest cavity in order to extract his heart.<br/><br/>The organ had been raw, red, Crimson Ash' sheer will to survive causing it to remain warm and beating even as it was removed from his swiftly-cooling corpse.  Belnades' lips had split into a wide grin and, holding his grisly trophy up for any who were around to see it, he had thrown back his head in wild laughter, savoring every moment of his triumph over his hated rival...<br/><br/>Until, that was, he was brought back to reality by the sound of something hitting the ground in front of him.  The distinct scent of ozone came to his nose, a sure sign that teleportation magic had been used, and he instinctively clutched his prize tightly to his chest and leapt for the throne, outstretched arm reaching for the blade that he had left sheathed in the body of his rival.<br/><br/>The look of realization that had dawned on his face when he realized that his arms had been cut off was actually rather funny.  He had had just enough time to wheel about on the figure who had removed them, a black-winged woman dressed in flowing robes, accented with orange and black striped fur, with wild black hair and the tail and ears of a tiger, before she suddenly disappeared from his sight, holding an ornate, curved sword in one hand and his prize, the still-beating heart of Crimson Ash, in the other as she left.<br/><br/>And then he was left alone, and in a severely weakened state, as his former minions returned.  The Vrocks, seeing him so sorely wounded and vulnerable, were quick to capitalize on his misfortune...<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Three weeks ago, the succubus known as Torahime had exited some deeply-positioned, but largely unremarkable layer of the Abyss by traveling through a portal that would take her to Pazunia.  She had sought to sneak past the iron fortress guarding it at first, but when she had heard the sounds of a battle raging within it, curiosity had gotten the better of her and she had crept in for a better look.  She had found the fortress' protective wards in tatters, the defenders in disarray, and the demon who had killed the former lord of the fortress in the throne room, so caught up in gloating over his opponent's dead, desecrated body that he hadn't even noticed when she had teleported into the room.<br/><br/>Even with the advantage of surprise, stealing the Balor's prize had not been an easy matter, requiring quick reflexes and a couple of very precise cuts, but she had managed it.  When she teleported away to a nearby mountaintop with her stolen goods, the rich, red flesh of the Balor lord's heart had been one of the most delicious things she had ever eaten.  And of course, in eating the heart of the mighty Crimson Ash, she had gained some measure of his power...<br/><br/>Now, three weeks later, she was in the midst of making her way into another of Pazunia's many iron fortresses.  The protective wards around this one were still active, however, and rather than sneaking in like a thief in the night, she was here this time by invitation, walking in directly through the front door.<br/><br/>"Well well, it seems you certainly are a hospitable host!"  The voice that spoke as Torahime entered the meeting room was not hers, but instead came from the ornate sword that hung at her side, the jawbone of the Quasit skull that decorated the sword's hilt moving in time with the words spoken by the sword.  "Deepfin tuna from the Ocean of Poison for my little Princess, and even high-quality polish for my blade?  Looks like someone's trying to make a good impression!"<br/><br/>As for Torahime herself, she chose to remain silent, waiting for the seer who had invited her to make the first move.