To say that he’d seen this coming would have been an oversimplification. Certainly he’d seen the signs. There wasn’t much that anyone could have done, especially in his position.
“You’re gonna love your new cell, demon.”
The only real tragedy, at least as far as he was concerned, was the fact that he’d been stripped of most of his armor. Custom made, one-of-a-kind plate-mail; a gift from a demon lord he’d done a favor for. Not a particularly big favor, but a favor nonetheless. And it was certainly a lot more than he’d expected to receive for such a pittance.
“I have to hand to you. I didn’t think that you’d be able to take him down, Jim.”
He’d grown rather attached to that armor. He’d seen some great battles with it. Killed so many people with it. Had so much blood splattered on it. Hell, he’d even given it a name: Vestril. Not the most original name, mind you, but a name nonetheless. It was the least he could do.
Such exquisite craftsmanship.
“I can’t take all the credit, Randy. It was a team effort.”
The helmet was the hardest to depart with. He’d seen some wicked fights with that thing. He especially loved the dents it put into people’s heads when he butted them. There was still some blood caked on it from his last battle; those kavorkians had far more blood within them than he thought they did. It made for a more interesting battle; that much was certain.
“That may be Jim, but it can’t be denied that the only reason we’re still here is because of that spell you used. If it weren’t for that, we’d all be dead right now.”
“He’s right, man. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
And it certainly went better than his most recent skirmish. To think that he was just minding his own business when a group of mages reeking of semen decided that it was the perfect day to wreck his shit. No, no… he wasn’t ashamed to admit how woefully outclassed he was, how easily they managed to subdue him. He’d been on the wrong side of more than a few smackdowns; some of them more brutal then others. And he’d seen more than a few mortals best his brethren over the course of the millennia; he knew better than to underestimate them.
Especially if most of them know their magic. Blasted mages.
Still, it was rather strange that he wasn’t destroyed after the attack. The mages seemed far more interested in his armor than they did him, stripping him of everything save his wristbands, boots, and green undergarments. They enchanted the first two, using smears of blood he’d spilt during the battle as a focus for their sorcery; with it, they weaved together a spell which, when placed on his boots and wristbands, not only cut the demon off from accessing most of his powers but compelled him to follow their every command. Not that he really minded it, you see; given the berth it was more of an inconvenience than anything. And to be fair, he was a great deal larger than any of them; it wasn’t like they could just carry him. And, as long as he was being magnanimous, enchanting his boots and forcing him to walk was a great deal more pragmatic than simply carrying him.
I’ll have to remember this trick for later…
The crowd that gathered at the town’s gates was nothing he hadn’t seen before: curious, backwater yokels who apparently have seen pictures of demons and heard stories about them but equally as obviously have never actually seen one up close. Looking over the townsfolk he noticed a lot more fear than bravado. A whole lot of parents silencing their far-too-curious-for-their-own-good children, forcibly pulling them behind, as if that were enough to shield them from his infernal ~wrath.
I can see the headlines now: “INFERNAL DEMON HELD PRISONER IN PODUNK HOLE IN THE GROUND.” The others would have a field day if they heard about this…
“We’re here, demon.”
The massive estate the mercenary-mages brought him was nothing like the squalid little hovels surrounding it. Behind the massive golden gates sat an impressive garden, hosting more variety and color than It was immediately apparent that whoever it was that lived within got off on being better off than everyone else. Why else would they have built such an auspicious mansion in the middle of nowhere, if not to rub their wealth in everybody else’s faces? Not that he’d ever done that himself, mind you.
Gotta have it to flaunt it.
“So this is the demon I was warned about?”
“Yes sir. We thought that you might have some use for him.”
From out of the gates marched what was obviously the manor’s master. For sure, he held the most resplendent attire. It was inevitable that one would eventually notice how clean he was compared to the rest of the rabble. He was a bit more well-built than most; a hairy chain not at all like the other mortals. Of course, that only served to make the contrast between him and his subordinates even more obvious. His skin was flawless, while heavy callouses and scar tissue coursed up and down the arms of the burly bodyguards positioned on either side of him. The armor they wore was chipped and rusty. Their blades sported more than a few nicked edges. And the less said about their footwear, the better.
They must not get a lot of trouble around here.
“What possible use could I have for a demon?” He spoke to them with such familiarity that it was obvious that the man had either hired the mage company himself at some point in time or was otherwise involved heavily with them in some way.
The human called ‘Jim’ spoke up first. “It wasn’t that sir. When we first got to him the demon was wearing some rather strange looking armor,” he gestured to the rune-encrusted chest that the demon’s armor was placed, “and thought that you might want it. We’ve heard that you’re a collector of rare, one-of-a-kind items. And they don’t get much rarer than demon-mail.”
The man was obviously intrigued by the prospect of acquiring demon armor, though he schooled his expression well. “I shall be the judge of that,” was his curtly reply. ‘Jim’ nodded and gestured to the men behind him, who brought the chest beside him and opened, revealing the magnificent contents lying within.
MY ARMOR!!!
“Magnificent…” Apparently the man didn’t think that anyone could hear him. He stepped towards the chest, obviously entranced by the armor itself, only for the chest to close, snapping him out of his trance.
“One moment sir.”
The merchant turned a dreadful towards the burly man, who flashed him with a vibrant smile as he stepped between him and the chest, his hand never leaving its place on the . “First, we do business,” he said as he stared into the nobleman’s eyes. “Then, and only if you agree to our terms, will we turn this over to you.”
Hatred flashed within the man’s eyes as he stared at the smirking expression of the mercenary mage, hatred that he’d allowed himself to be so easily seduced by something like that, and in front of his citizens no less, who’d already begun to talk about the strange hairy man who could so easily manipulate their lord.
Oohh I like him…
The burly mercenary mage brought his free hand up to the merchant’s face, further irritating him. “First,” he emphasized with a flick of a finger, “we would require a steady supply of your special tonic.”
The merchant’s eyes started to narrow. “How much is a ‘steady supply’?”
Another finger was flicked. “Enough for two months.”
For some reason, the merchant seemed to find that funny, and immediately started to laugh his ass off. “Anything else,” he asked between chuckles, his burning eyes never leaving the mage.
“We’d like you to hold onto this demon,” the runes on the demon’s boots and bracelets forced him to step forward, “until we’re able to properly deal with him.” The mercenary-mage paid no mind to the demon’s winching.
Go ahead. I’m not hurt. No sir, I’m just fine…
The merchant’s eyes held the demon for a bit before flicking back to the mage’s. “You want me,” he let his voice stretch for a bit, “to hold onto a demon prisoner while you go off gallivanting elsewhere. A demon who, if I’m not mistaken, you yourselves were unable to conquer without my elixir”
“We’ll give you the proper spells necessary to keep him under control. His gauntlets and boots have been ensorcelled, so he’s won’t be attacking you.”
“And what if I say no?”
“Then we take this armor and demon and sell them elsewhere,” said the man, as he waved his hands around in an ‘doesn’t really matter’ kind of way.
The Merchant crossed his arms across his chest, a smug look crossing his handsome features as he stared down at the smaller man. “And just what makes you think that you’ll be able to solicit your stolen armor elsewhere? Demon-mail or not, the fact remains that it doesn’t belong to you.”
Oh-ho, so that’s how he wants to play it…
“And as for the elixir; well, last time I checked I,” he put a special emphasis on that last ‘I’, “was the only one with the supply of elixir; the self-same elixir that you, undoubtedly, used to overpower this beast. A beast, which, I’m sure his Majesty would be most displeased to see you carry around.”
The leader of the mercenary-mages’ face showed no signs of desperation. “Is that how you want to play it, sir,” he asked with a soft tone, his expression decidedly neutral.
“I reserve the right to refuse service to whomever I choose.”
The burly mage gave the merchant a long look before standing upright. “Alright then,” he cracked his knuckles in an impressive display of machismo, “First off, we know this armor to be of significant worth.”
“And how did you come to that well thought out conclusion?”
“…By watching you, sir,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “it was your unsolicited surprise that gave us the information we needed about its wo
To say that he’d seen this coming would have been an oversimplification. Certainly he’d seen the signs. There wasn’t much that anyone could have done, especially in his position.
“You’re gonna love your new cell, demon.”
The only real tragedy, at least as far as he was concerned, was the fact that he’d been stripped of most of his armor. Custom made, one-of-a-kind plate-mail; a gift from a demon lord he’d done a favor for. Not a particularly big favor, but a favor nonetheless. And it was certainly a lot more than he’d expected to receive for such a pittance.
“I have to hand to you. I didn’t think that you’d be able to take him down, Jim.”
He’d grown rather attached to that armor. He’d seen some great battles with it. Killed so many people with it. Had so much blood splattered on it. Hell, he’d even given it a name: Vestril. Not the most original name, mind you, but a name nonetheless. It was the least he could do.
Such exquisite craftsmanship.
“I can’t take all the credit, Randy. It was a team effort.”
The helmet was the hardest to depart with. He’d seen some wicked fights with that thing. He especially loved the dents it put into people’s heads when he butted them. There was still some blood caked on it from his last battle; those kavorkians had far more blood within them than he thought they did. It made for a more interesting battle; that much was certain.
“That may be Jim, but it can’t be denied that the only reason we’re still here is because of that spell you used. If it weren’t for that, we’d all be dead right now.”
“He’s right, man. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
And it certainly went better than his most recent skirmish. To think that he was just minding his own business when a group of mages reeking of semen decided that it was the perfect day to wreck his shit. No, no… he wasn’t ashamed to admit how woefully outclassed he was, how easily they managed to subdue him. He’d been on the wrong side of more than a few smackdowns; some of them more brutal then others. And he’d seen more than a few mortals best his brethren over the course of the millennia; he knew better than to underestimate them.
Especially if most of them know their magic. Blasted mages.
Still, it was rather strange that he wasn’t destroyed after the attack. The mages seemed far more interested in his armor than they did him, stripping him of everything save his wristbands, boots, and green undergarments. They enchanted the first two, using smears of blood he’d spilt during the battle as a focus for their sorcery; with it, they weaved together a spell which, when placed on his boots and wristbands, not only cut the demon off from accessing most of his powers but compelled him to follow their every command. Not that he really minded it, you see; given the berth it was more of an inconvenience than anything. And to be fair, he was a great deal larger than any of them; it wasn’t like they could just carry him. And, as long as he was being magnanimous, enchanting his boots and forcing him to walk was a great deal more pragmatic than simply carrying him.
I’ll have to remember this trick for later…
The crowd that gathered at the town’s gates was nothing he hadn’t seen before: curious, backwater yokels who apparently have seen pictures of demons and heard stories about them but equally as obviously have never actually seen one up close. Looking over the townsfolk he noticed a lot more fear than bravado. A whole lot of parents silencing their far-too-curious-for-their-own-good children, forcibly pulling them behind, as if that were enough to shield them from his infernal ~wrath.
I can see the headlines now: “INFERNAL DEMON HELD PRISONER IN PODUNK HOLE IN THE GROUND.” The others would have a field day if they heard about this…
“We’re here, demon.”
The massive estate the mercenary-mages brought him was nothing like the squalid little hovels surrounding it. Behind the massive golden gates sat an impressive garden, hosting more variety and color than It was immediately apparent that whoever it was that lived within got off on being better off than everyone else. Why else would they have built such an auspicious mansion in the middle of nowhere, if not to rub their wealth in everybody else’s faces? Not that he’d ever done that himself, mind you.
Gotta have it to flaunt it.
“So this is the demon I was warned about?”
“Yes sir. We thought that you might have some use for him.”
From out of the gates marched what was obviously the manor’s master. For sure, he held the most resplendent attire. It was inevitable that one would eventually notice how clean he was compared to the rest of the rabble. He was a bit more well-built than most; a hairy chain not at all like the other mortals. Of course, that only served to make the contrast between him and his subordinates even more obvious. His skin was flawless, while heavy callouses and scar tissue coursed up and down the arms of the burly bodyguards positioned on either side of him. The armor they wore was chipped and rusty. Their blades sported more than a few nicked edges. And the less said about their footwear, the better.
They must not get a lot of trouble around here.
“What possible use could I have for a demon?” He spoke to them with such familiarity that it was obvious that the man had either hired the mage company himself at some point in time or was otherwise involved heavily with them in some way.
The human called ‘Jim’ spoke up first. “It wasn’t that sir. When we first got to him the demon was wearing some rather strange looking armor,” he gestured to the rune-encrusted chest that the demon’s armor was placed, “and thought that you might want it. We’ve heard that you’re a collector of rare, one-of-a-kind items. And they don’t get much rarer than demon-mail.”
The man was obviously intrigued by the prospect of acquiring demon armor, though he schooled his expression well. “I shall be the judge of that,” was his curtly reply. ‘Jim’ nodded and gestured to the men behind him, who brought the chest beside him and opened, revealing the magnificent contents lying within.
MY ARMOR!!!
“Magnificent…” Apparently the man didn’t think that anyone could hear him. He stepped towards the chest, obviously entranced by the armor itself, only for the chest to close, snapping him out of his trance.
“One moment sir.”
The merchant turned a dreadful towards the burly man, who flashed him with a vibrant smile as he stepped between him and the chest, his hand never leaving its place on the . “First, we do business,” he said as he stared into the nobleman’s eyes. “Then, and only if you agree to our terms, will we turn this over to you.”
Hatred flashed within the man’s eyes as he stared at the smirking expression of the mercenary mage, hatred that he’d allowed himself to be so easily seduced by something like that, and in front of his citizens no less, who’d already begun to talk about the strange hairy man who could so easily manipulate their lord.
Oohh I like him…
The burly mercenary mage brought his free hand up to the merchant’s face, further irritating him. “First,” he emphasized with a flick of a finger, “we would require a steady supply of your special tonic.”
The merchant’s eyes started to narrow. “How much is a ‘steady supply’?”
Another finger was flicked. “Enough for two months.”
For some reason, the merchant seemed to find that funny, and immediately started to laugh his ass off. “Anything else,” he asked between chuckles, his burning eyes never leaving the mage.
“We’d like you to hold onto this demon,” the runes on the demon’s boots and bracelets forced him to step forward, “until we’re able to properly deal with him.” The mercenary-mage paid no mind to the demon’s winching.
Go ahead. I’m not hurt. No sir, I’m just fine…
The merchant’s eyes held the demon for a bit before flicking back to the mage’s. “You want me,” he let his voice stretch for a bit, “to hold onto a demon prisoner while you go off gallivanting elsewhere. A demon who, if I’m not mistaken, you yourselves were unable to conquer without my elixir”
“We’ll give you the proper spells necessary to keep him under control. His gauntlets and boots have been ensorcelled, so he’s won’t be attacking you.”
“And what if I say no?”
“Then we take this armor and demon and sell them elsewhere,” said the man, as he waved his hands around in an ‘doesn’t really matter’ kind of way.
The Merchant crossed his arms across his chest, a smug look crossing his handsome features as he stared down at the smaller man. “And just what makes you think that you’ll be able to solicit your stolen armor elsewhere? Demon-mail or not, the fact remains that it doesn’t belong to you.”
Oh-ho, so that’s how he wants to play it…
“And as for the elixir; well, last time I checked I,” he put a special emphasis on that last ‘I’, “was the only one with the supply of elixir; the self-same elixir that you, undoubtedly, used to overpower this beast. A beast, which, I’m sure his Majesty would be most displeased to see you carry around.”
The leader of the mercenary-mages’ face showed no signs of desperation. “Is that how you want to play it, sir,” he asked with a soft tone, his expression decidedly neutral.
“I reserve the right to refuse service to whomever I choose.”
The burly mage gave the merchant a long look before standing upright. “Alright then,” he cracked his knuckles in an impressive display of machismo, “First off, we know this armor to be of significant worth.”
“And how did you come to that well thought out conclusion?”
“…By watching you, sir,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “it was your unsolicited surprise that gave us the information we needed about its wo
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To say that he’d seen this coming would have been an oversimplification. Certainly he’d seen the signs. There wasn’t much that anyone could have done, especially in his position.
“You’re gonna love your new cell, demon.”
The only real tragedy, at least as far as he was concerned, was the fact that he’d been stripped of most of his armor. Custom made, one-of-a-kind plate-mail; a gift from a demon lord he’d done a favor for. Not a particularly big favor, but a favor nonetheless. And it was certainly a lot more than he’d expected to receive for such a pittance.
“I have to hand to you. I didn’t think that you’d be able to take him down, Jim.”
He’d grown rather attached to that armor. He’d seen some great battles with it. Killed so many people with it. Had so much blood splattered on it. Hell, he’d even given it a name: Vestril. Not the most original name, mind you, but a name nonetheless. It was the least he could do.
Such exquisite craftsmanship.
“I can’t take all the credit, Randy. It was a team effort.”
The helmet was the hardest to depart with. He’d seen some wicked fights with that thing. He especially loved the dents it put into people’s heads when he butted them. There was still some blood caked on it from his last battle; those kavorkians had far more blood within them than he thought they did. It made for a more interesting battle; that much was certain.
“That may be Jim, but it can’t be denied that the only reason we’re still here is because of that spell you used. If it weren’t for that, we’d all be dead right now.”
“He’s right, man. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
And it certainly went better than his most recent skirmish. To think that he was just minding his own business when a group of mages reeking of semen decided that it was the perfect day to wreck his shit. No, no… he wasn’t ashamed to admit how woefully outclassed he was, how easily they managed to subdue him. He’d been on the wrong side of more than a few smackdowns; some of them more brutal then others. And he’d seen more than a few mortals best his brethren over the course of the millennia; he knew better than to underestimate them.
Especially if most of them know their magic. Blasted mages.
Still, it was rather strange that he wasn’t destroyed after the attack. The mages seemed far more interested in his armor than they did him, stripping him of everything save his wristbands, boots, and green undergarments. They enchanted the first two, using smears of blood he’d spilt during the battle as a focus for their sorcery; with it, they weaved together a spell which, when placed on his boots and wristbands, not only cut the demon off from accessing most of his powers but compelled him to follow their every command. Not that he really minded it, you see; given the berth it was more of an inconvenience than anything. And to be fair, he was a great deal larger than any of them; it wasn’t like they could just carry him. And, as long as he was being magnanimous, enchanting his boots and forcing him to walk was a great deal more pragmatic than simply carrying him.
I’ll have to remember this trick for later…
The crowd that gathered at the town’s gates was nothing he hadn’t seen before: curious, backwater yokels who apparently have seen pictures of demons and heard stories about them but equally as obviously have never actually seen one up close. Looking over the townsfolk he noticed a lot more fear than bravado. A whole lot of parents silencing their far-too-curious-for-their-own-good children, forcibly pulling them behind, as if that were enough to shield them from his infernal ~wrath.
I can see the headlines now: “INFERNAL DEMON HELD PRISONER IN PODUNK HOLE IN THE GROUND.” The others would have a field day if they heard about this…
“We’re here, demon.”
The massive estate the mercenary-mages brought him was nothing like the squalid little hovels surrounding it. Behind the massive golden gates sat an impressive garden, hosting more variety and color than It was immediately apparent that whoever it was that lived within got off on being better off than everyone else. Why else would they have built such an auspicious mansion in the middle of nowhere, if not to rub their wealth in everybody else’s faces? Not that he’d ever done that himself, mind you.
Gotta have it to flaunt it.
“So this is the demon I was warned about?”
“Yes sir. We thought that you might have some use for him.”
From out of the gates marched what was obviously the manor’s master. For sure, he held the most resplendent attire. It was inevitable that one would eventually notice how clean he was compared to the rest of the rabble. He was a bit more well-built than most; a hairy chain not at all like the other mortals. Of course, that only served to make the contrast between him and his subordinates even more obvious. His skin was flawless, while heavy callouses and scar tissue coursed up and down the arms of the burly bodyguards positioned on either side of him. The armor they wore was chipped and rusty. Their blades sported more than a few nicked edges. And the less said about their footwear, the better.
They must not get a lot of trouble around here.
“What possible use could I have for a demon?” He spoke to them with such familiarity that it was obvious that the man had either hired the mage company himself at some point in time or was otherwise involved heavily with them in some way.
The human called ‘Jim’ spoke up first. “It wasn’t that sir. When we first got to him the demon was wearing some rather strange looking armor,” he gestured to the rune-encrusted chest that the demon’s armor was placed, “and thought that you might want it. We’ve heard that you’re a collector of rare, one-of-a-kind items. And they don’t get much rarer than demon-mail.”
The man was obviously intrigued by the prospect of acquiring demon armor, though he schooled his expression well. “I shall be the judge of that,” was his curtly reply. ‘Jim’ nodded and gestured to the men behind him, who brought the chest beside him and opened, revealing the magnificent contents lying within.
MY ARMOR!!!
“Magnificent…” Apparently the man didn’t think that anyone could hear him. He stepped towards the chest, obviously entranced by the armor itself, only for the chest to close, snapping him out of his trance.
“One moment sir.”
The merchant turned a dreadful towards the burly man, who flashed him with a vibrant smile as he stepped between him and the chest, his hand never leaving its place on the . “First, we do business,” he said as he stared into the nobleman’s eyes. “Then, and only if you agree to our terms, will we turn this over to you.”
Hatred flashed within the man’s eyes as he stared at the smirking expression of the mercenary mage, hatred that he’d allowed himself to be so easily seduced by something like that, and in front of his citizens no less, who’d already begun to talk about the strange hairy man who could so easily manipulate their lord.
Oohh I like him…
The burly mercenary mage brought his free hand up to the merchant’s face, further irritating him. “First,” he emphasized with a flick of a finger, “we would require a steady supply of your special tonic.”
The merchant’s eyes started to narrow. “How much is a ‘steady supply’?”
Another finger was flicked. “Enough for two months.”
For some reason, the merchant seemed to find that funny, and immediately started to laugh his ass off. “Anything else,” he asked between chuckles, his burning eyes never leaving the mage.
“We’d like you to hold onto this demon,” the runes on the demon’s boots and bracelets forced him to step forward, “until we’re able to properly deal with him.” The mercenary-mage paid no mind to the demon’s winching.
Go ahead. I’m not hurt. No sir, I’m just fine…
The merchant’s eyes held the demon for a bit before flicking back to the mage’s. “You want me,” he let his voice stretch for a bit, “to hold onto a demon prisoner while you go off gallivanting elsewhere. A demon who, if I’m not mistaken, you yourselves were unable to conquer without my elixir”
“We’ll give you the proper spells necessary to keep him under control. His gauntlets and boots have been ensorcelled, so he’s won’t be attacking you.”
“And what if I say no?”
“Then we take this armor and demon and sell them elsewhere,” said the man, as he waved his hands around in an ‘doesn’t really matter’ kind of way.
The Merchant crossed his arms across his chest, a smug look crossing his handsome features as he stared down at the smaller man. “And just what makes you think that you’ll be able to solicit your stolen armor elsewhere? Demon-mail or not, the fact remains that it doesn’t belong to you.”
Oh-ho, so that’s how he wants to play it…
“And as for the elixir; well, last time I checked I,” he put a special emphasis on that last ‘I’, “was the only one with the supply of elixir; the self-same elixir that you, undoubtedly, used to overpower this beast. A beast, which, I’m sure his Majesty would be most displeased to see you carry around.”
The leader of the mercenary-mages’ face showed no signs of desperation. “Is that how you want to play it, sir,” he asked with a soft tone, his expression decidedly neutral.
“I reserve the right to refuse service to whomever I choose.”
The burly mage gave the merchant a long look before standing upright. “Alright then,” he cracked his knuckles in an impressive display of machismo, “First off, we know this armor to be of significant worth.”
“And how did you come to that well thought out conclusion?”
“…By watching you, sir,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “it was your unsolicited surprise that gave us the information we needed about its wo
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