Pitchfork - the Quest from Hell #5

>>1590859
>Bust down door, search cauldron, restrain Tumultus with BDSM leather straps
You begin to explain your brilliant plan. Kunigunda nods along, accompanied by loud slurping as she downs her MILKSHAKE.
"So first of all we'd approach his cauldron and bust down the door. We gotta take him by surprise."
"Then we split up and search the house. Best would be if we went from two different directions so he'd have fewer escape routes."
Kunigunda's eyes would be glued on you, had she had any eyes. Perfect. You saved the situation.
"Then, when we catch her- um, you do have some STRAPS with you, right?"
"Yes, of course! I have straps, I do! Really good leather, sturdy!"
Of course she does. She's a succubus.
"...Right. So when we catch him, you restrain him with your straps, and we get to teach him a lesson."
The smile on her face widens a little bit.
"I get to beat him up first" - you add quickly. - "Then you can keep him as a plaything if you want. If you get bored of him, just tell me and I'll gladly kill the little fucker, free of charge."
"Yes, this is a good plan, an excellent plan!" She's super enthusiastic about this. Are the IMPS really that boring...?
By the time you finish, she's slurping up the stray drops of milk from the bottom of the glass with her straw. It's time to get on with this revenge already.

>Revenge time!

>Commence the plan, time to make him pay! MUHUHAHAHA!

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>>1590933
>Agroppo: Make him pay.
You pay for your awful SCOTCH and Kunigunda's MILKSHAKE, and toss a little tip to the bartender. He earned it for saving face for you with the alcohol.
"Come on, Kunigunda. Time to pay a little visit to our two-headed friend."
The succubus slinks down from the bar stool and contorts herself into an unbearably painful-looking pose on the ground.
"Alright, let's go meet the lil' shit! No way!"
The two of you stroll out the bar and begin the roughly five-minute stroll to Tumultus' cauldron.
It's a beautiful day outside. The heavy grey clouds have mostly cleared away, giving space to the sunless, blood-red sky. A LIMOUSINE rolls down the street, carrying some sort of important INFERNAL GENERAL. Hordes of slaves and legionnaires follow him, burning incense and singing praises to him.
All in all, it's a great day to take some revenge, and to spend a little time with your dear friend Kunigunda.
By the time you think this through, you have already arrived to the small cauldron of the offending lesser demon. Your succubus companion gazes up at you from the ground, curious as to what will happen next.
Revenge will be sweet.

>Be Jess
You are now JESSICA WINDER-KRAMER. You spent the latest seven hours of your life neck deep in some of the weirdest literature you've ever seen. The reason for this is that the aforementioned literature has been written by actual DEMONS from Hell, and some humans with very, very weird opinions about the proper usage of virgin maidens. The reason you've been so entrenched in these books is that you've been trapped in the body of what appears to be a small, snakelike demon, and you've been hard at work trying to figure out how to undo it. The tables and floor of the LIBRARY ROOM you're in are covered by several sheets of paper detailing the mechanism of magic, prototype MAGICAL SIGILS and pronunciation guides for the OLD DEMONIC TONGUE.
Man, if 15-year-old you would see you now, she would cream her pants with glee. This is exactly what you originally purchased that shitty NECKLACE for.
After seven full hours of brain-melting grimoire-binging, you think you got the undoing of POSSESSION more or less down. You feel ready to attempt it now.

Head back to the demon's living room and make sure the pentagram is all good. After all, something bad could happen if it's not complete.

>>1591050
>Go to living room, inspect heptagram
You're getting used to your snake body now, so it's pretty easy to slither over to the LIVING ROOM.
The CHALK HEPTAGRAM in the middle of the room is in dire need of repairs. Whatever brought you here left it in chars. It definitely won't function like this.
Upon closer inspection, you notice that a tiny part of it was SMUDGED before it was even used.
Of course it wouldn't work properly like this. Did the user even know what he was doing? You suspect he's a novice sorcerer who doesn't know shit about chalk heptagrams.
In any case, you take a piece of CHALK lying next to the heptagram and carefully redraw it, glancing over to a piece of paper for reference. It seems proper now.

You suddenly hear a faint giggle from outside. Is there someone standing at the door?

>Lock the door first, then look outside. If there are multiple locks, lock them all.

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>>1591119
>Lock the door.
Visitors are never a good thing if you're in Hell. You hurry out to the DOOR and find that the tenant of this place has decided to secure the entrance of his house with a veritable arsenal of LOCKS. Cylinder locks, padlocks, deadbolts, combination locks and rimlocks line the sides of the door. A rusty ring of KEYS hangs by the door on a hook on the wall.
Hastily, you lock as many as you can. Better safe than sorry. After this, you proceed to look out the peephole.
...Turns out, it was a good idea to be SAFE, or you'd been SORRY.
It's the cobra-thing. From your studies, you have deciphered that it is a DEMON, although you don't know what kind. What you do know is that it's the same cobra-thing you found dying next to the CHALK HEPTAGRAM when you first turned up here. It's not dead at all, in fact, it's eyeing the door with a look of cold hatred in its eyes.
It's accompanied by some sort of snake-skinned CONTORTIONIST lying in a bundle on the ground. It's grinning like a madman and occasionally says a few words to the cobra-thing.
Both of them are way bigger than you. Your PITCHFORK is in the living room, but you doubt you can fight them head on.

Something tells you you are in some deep shit.

>>1591142
>DO THE RITUAL. NOW!

>>1591169
>DO THE RITUAL. NOW!
There's no time to be fucking around at all.
You hurry back to the pentagram, and get your papers in order.
You concentrate all your consciousness on the HEPTAGRAM. This is made considerably harder by the persistent THUMPING on the door. They're trying to get in...!
Carefully, trying your best to pronounce everything right, you begin to chant in the OLD DEMONIC TONGUE.
"Eſ vimagguc ſʒen achſcin mariat, eſ mend angelcut, hug uimaggonoc erette..."

The thumping gets louder. The locks begin to creak. You try to ignore it.
"Eſ uimagguc ſʒent peter urot, kinec odut hotolm ovdonia. eſ ketnie. Hug ovga mend w bunet..."

Several locks break off the door, accompanied by a loud crack as a huge and sharp PITCHFORK is lodged into the door. Your composure falters, and you nearly mispronounce a word in the chant, but you keep going.
"Eſ vimagguc mend ſʒentucut, hug legenec nekí ſeged uromc ſcine eleut. Hug iſten ív ui- madſaguk- madſagucmia bulſaſſa w bunet..."

The door finally gives in and swings open on its half-torn-out hinges. You can hear angry yelling.
"Tumultus, you motherfucker, this is how you repay me?! After all the kindness I had for you?! I'll wreck you!" The cobra-thing's furious tirade is counterpointed by the incessant giggling of the contortionist snake-person.
You've never been this scared in your life.
"E-eſ ʒoboducha wt urdung ildetuitvl, eſ pucul kinzotviatwl! Eſ veʒeſſe wt paradiſū nugulmabeli!"

A pitchfork flies over your head, but it misses and bouncess off the wall with a loud CLANG. It's taking all your composure to keep chanting. The CHALK HEPTAGRAM is crackling like a Tesla coil and throwing yellow sparks.
"What sort of magic bullshit are you pulling, you lowlife lesser demon?! I'll end you!"
The two demons reach the LIVING ROOM. The cobra-thing is in the front, with the contortionist in tow. There is murder on their faces.

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With a chilling feeling, the cobra-thing's bird claws shut around your tail, pulling you from the ground. It lifts you up upside down and holds you in front of its face.
"Now, you ungrateful fuckwit! You really shouldn't have stabbed me in the back! AND STOP FUCKING CHANTING!"
"Stop it! You lil' shit!" - adds the contortionist.
You have no intention to stop chanting at all. In fact you're too terrified to stop, the words come automatically now.
"Eſ oggun neki munhi uruʒagbele utot! Eſ mend iovben reʒet!"
The cobra-thing reaches to the ground and picks up its PITCHFORK.
"Eſ keaſſatuc uromchuʒ charmul...!"
Just as the cobra-thing would stab, you belt out the finishing phrase thrice, as it was instructed.
"KIRŁ! KIRŁ! KIR-"
>WHHHHHAAAAT THE FUCK STOP THIS BULLSHIT RIGHT NOW AND LET GO OF MY BODY YOU ALCOHOLIC CUNT
In the last moment, the magic slips from your control. It feels like your brain is being torn out as the magic rushes all out of you like you were vomiting. The heptagram flashes a blinding red, erupts in an explosion of HELLFIRE and consumes you into a screaming infinity.
The last words you hear are a female voice with a distinct VOCAL FRY.
"No way! No way! No w-"

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Fever dreams.
Images briefly flash before your eyes, as if your eyes are forcibly kept open and you’re forced to watch some macabre movie. Horrible, nauseating images, you fall towards them but before you can reach them they melt away and give place to something even worse, farther away. Charred bones and melting flesh. A man, clad in great armor, with a starfish in place of a head. Teeth being torn out and snakes slithering on the inside of your skin. A cascade of molten gold rushing over you, drowning you in its scalding depths. A bull clashing with a dragon - but when you get closer, you notice details on the both of them that make you wish you saw the charred bones and melting flesh again.
Finally, you see a great pit where people scream and burn. Indescribable agony and despair radiates from them as fire radiates from the sun. You see faces, contorted with pain and animalistic fear. Faces of guilt. Faces of regret.
And then, among the moaning millions, there is one who does not scream. His face is not one of agony or regret, but a smile. A smile cracked through pain, but a smile nevertheless.
The damned soul reaches out of the pit and speaks out to you. His words are weak and trembling, but full of victory.

j̛͙͕̩̳͛̇e̺̞̹̮ͦs̗͖̿̓̆͂ͧs̢̟̿ị̈́͒c̹̘̰͕̙̯̒̔ạͣ..͉͖͎̯
s̨͚͖̠̓ͨ͊̃̌̓c̘͔̝͈̎͂h͍̱̳̞̿̕ͅö̢n͉̣͍͍̘̘̟͌̐̄ͬ̓͋͝e̢̜̳̖̘̘̹ͅ ̳͉͉͉̟̦ͮ͐̊̔ͪ̀̕j̮̭̟̖̗̜̹ͧu̳̻̤͇̫̖͋̆̏̐͠n͚̱͓̫̠͇̚͜ͅġ̮̦͈͗ͮ̀f̖͕͔̤͎̘ͨ͌̑r̶͚̬͇̘̱̔ͬͪ̐a̜ͧ͋̀u̥̫̞̹̬ͦͦ.̡ͭ̓͊̽̒̽͗
̶͎͖̔͐̆̚d̹̮̈́̂ͩͯ̇u͇̿̎͂ͧͨ̄͐ ̢̼͕̖̣̤͍ͯ̓ͨ̀̆ͯb̭̦̼̠̭̜̜͛̋ͬ̍ͫḯ̈ͬ̀͢s͎̖̟̹͉̳̖͌́ͮ̿̓t̙̼̻̀̓͗̓̒̄̒́ ͚̥̟̬̑̾ͭͬ͌̚d̛̬̝̝̝͇͇̱͐e̞̙ͫ̓ͭ̂͟r̗̺̼̝̜̦̯̽͠ ̫͈̯̭͇̰̌ͫ̄̉t͕̗ͤ̂̇ͣ͌̈͞ě̼̺ͧ̎͞ŭ͖͚̺̹͈͒f̦̟̥̼ͮ͟ẻ̫̍l̜̓̎s̢̄ͭͤͫͣ̚h̛͆ͣ̉̆à̘͖̭̟ͬͫ̐̈͟m̤ͨ̀ṃ͎̝̓̿̋̈ę̳͉̱̳ͣ͆̈̄r͚͜.͍̫͇͍͕̆ͩͫͅ
ͬ͐̓̋͆d̋̓́ů͕̣̳̬ͦͬ͛͒̈́ͩ ̬̥̙͇̌͂̈ͦb̰̻̪͈͈̰ͩ͂̒̿̃̕i̙̙̦͔͉͂̋ͬͯsͬͣͤ̿t͇ͤ͋ͫͯ ̞̣̭̭͎ͩͦͬ͢ḏ͙͔̮̟͚̆ͩ̽̓͐̇ͅi̩̖͆è̖̻̱̪̼̤̬ͭ̕ ̡̜̬̙̺͓̃ͦ̓̋̆͗w̽̀͂͑ͧa̤͈̝̠͙͓f̹͓̱̼̺ͣ̊ͦͩ̐͟f̵͖̭̹̰̯̜̰̈́͊̇ͩe̸̹̳̞̰ͭͬ͋͌ ̪͈͉̳̯̀ͣͅi̮͎̞̭̠͈̞͌͂͆ͯ͂n̩̦͉̜̊̈́̿̂̎ ̯m͇͚̞̪̽̓͋e̷̤̳͖̟͙̱͋̌̌͑̔i̬̙͍̹̬̣̊n̸̮̳̻͈ẹ̳̙̒n̫̓̄̇͑́͒̚̕ ̖̥̻͎͍͉͛h̖͔̱̺̩̪͕ä̴͇̜͙̙̞̥̼ͨ̍n̞̰̘͍̝̪̒̏̾̃͛d̦̬͚̭̯̪̄̍ͩ͗͗̐͞eͫ̚͝n͇̗͉͍̭͚̦ͭͬ̽ͤͫ̋ͯ.̝̠̥͉̮̻͕̀ͬͫ̄̄ͮ͛

>

>

>

>Be Jess
You are now JESSICA WINDER-KRAMER.
You are currently inhabiting your own, human body.
An extremely dehydrated and aching human body, but a human body nevertheless.
Everything feels too close, and it's weird having limbs and only one head again.
You appear to be lying on the floor in your BEST FRIEND's apartment.

>What do you do?

>Try to get up and call for your best friend

>>1591287
Lay on floor and call out to your friend

>>1591287
>remember all the other times you've woken up on this floor, next to this same couch, feeling just as shit as you are now.

"Brighton muthafuckin Mackenzie, you better not have drawn shit on my face again!"

1591328
>Get up and call your friend
You would recognize Brighton's ugly ceiling and big puffy COUCH anywhere. You try to get on your legs, but your aching joints barely obey you. How long has your body been lying here...?
>>1591459
>Lay on floor and call your friend
You give up trying to stand up for the moment and decide to call out to her from where you are from the floor.
"Brghghhh-"
Your attempt at calling out devolves into a dry-mouthed CROAK and dies before the sentence could get out. You are extremely dehydrated.
>>1593109
>Remember all the other times you've woken up on this floor, next to this same couch, feeling just as shit as you are now
This is not the first time you've waken up in an awful condition, lying on Brighton's floor next to her couch, actually. Except it was mostly hangovers, not DEMONIC POSSESSION.
But if that's the case, that would mean-
...Oh.
Oh no.
She wouldn't...!
But of course she would.
With herculean effort, you finally manage to clear your throat and yell out in a hoarse voice:
"Brighton muthafuckin Mackenzie, you better not have drawn shit on my face again!"

Your outburst is met with a loud yelp from the other room, followed by loud crashing and the sound of someone nearly falling over herself in her hurry.
BRIGHTON bursts into the room, on the verge of tears.
"Jess! Girl! You're back, oh my god!"
She pulls you up from the floor, uncaring of your continous "ow"-s as your stiff joints are forced to move, and encloses you into a tight hug.
"Oh my god, Jess... I thought you'd never come back at this point! Jesus, you scared me so much, you drunk idiot!"
You'd open your mouth in response, but suddenly her face becomes stone cold and serious. She releases you from the hug and pushes you onto the couch. You land on your behind with a loud thump, but you don't fall off this time.
"Waitwaitwait wait." Her tone is suddenly like that of an inquisitor torturing a heretic. "How do I know you're really Jess, and not some demon in her body? Hmmmm?"

>Convince Brighton you're really Jess.

>>1593490
>Remind her of the time she did something stupid in high school.

>>1593490
>tell her what you said in the phone call from hell, seeing as you were not connected to your body the demon in the body couldn't of known

>>1593621
The priest joke.

>>1593954
>The priest joke
You decide to try your trusted in-joke.
"If I was a demon you should probably call a priest to exorcise me, you know. Just be careful not to screw him, you know?"
You wait for the reaction. Brighton makes an unamused face.
"The timing and rhythm of that joke was awful."
...
"It really is you, Jess! C'mere, girl!"
She hops on the couch and delivers yet another bone-crushing hug.
"I was so concerned, you know? I'm sorry for this little interrogation thing, but after the shit I've seen today, I couldn't be safe enough! Anyway, what has gone down? What did you do in hell? Got stuck in a cauldron or something?" - she laughs in relief.

>>1594181
>stagger into the kitchen for some water. Maybe cook something as well. Haven't eaten since we got possessed. Tell Brighton about our visit to hell.

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>>1594248
>Drink, eat, tell about Hell
After sitting a little bit, your muscles are more or less under your control now. You get on two trembling feet and walk out to the kitchen to hydrate yourself.
"Man, it's really weird walking on two feet again."
"What do you mean 'again'?"
"Well you see, when I was in hell I was a snake...? I think it was a snake, yeah."
"Why just think?"
"Correct me if I'm wrong but most snakes don't have two heads." You retrieve a glass from Brighton's cupboard and fill it with tap water. You gulp it down and fill it up again.
"What the hell happened, girl?" - Brighton's voice comes from the other room.
"Well" - *gulp* - "I think it was a demon or something like that.
"You... you were in the body of a demon?"
"I think, yeah."
"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? I sure didn't see any demons trying to tell me my mother sucks cocks in Hell or anything like that."
"I guess not. I have no idea really."
"So what did you do in Hell?"
"I read a ton of books, mostly. To figure out how to come back. They have weird books." You drink another full glass of water. The hoarseness slowly disappears from your voice.
"Ha! Nerd."
"At least I wasn't busy busting down my friend's door in that time."
An awkward silence comes from the other side.
You inspect the FRIDGE and note that Brighton still cannot cook to save her life. Most of this is takeout food or home delivery stuff. This simply won't stand.
"Hey, Brighton. When did you eat last time?"
"About five or six hours ago? Ate some pizza."
"Pizza again? You really gotta learn how to cook. I'm gonna make you some real, actual food."
"Sweet. This is exactly why I'll never learn to cook. You'll just keep making your amazing food for me."
"Shut up."
Brighton's fridge isn't well-stuffed, nor is it full of particularly balanced ingredients. Still, you could make a relatively simple recipe with these.

>What will you cook?

>>1594535
watermelon margaritas
and eggs

>>1594535
Some breakfast. Eggs, bacon, pancakes.

>>1594535
Can we switch back to Tumultus? I kinda feel bad for ruining his murder.

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>>1594635
>Watermelon margaritas
You don't intend on coming anywhere near to ALCOHOL in at least the following two weeks. You spent all yesterday drinking and you actually wound up in HELL. The watermelons will be good in fruit form.
>>1594643
>Eggs, bacon, pancakes
It's painfully stereotypical, but it's nice. You put two pans on the fire and retrieve the EGGS. The sizzling of the oil puts you in a good mood. You notice your reflection in a shiny metal bowl and note that Brighton has indeed drawn shit on your face again. Several DICKS adorn your features, along with two little devil horns on the side.
You sigh. This isn't the worst thing that happened to you in the last 24 hours, you're willing to let it go. But you're using her sanitizer to get it off.
"So, Brighton. While I was in Hell being a nerd, what did you get up to? Aside from wrecking my apartment and drawing dicks on my face, I mean."
You hear Brighton standing up from the couch and coming into the kitchen.
"Oooh, eggs and bacon. Simple but nice. You won't believe what happened while you were out, by the way."
"After this I'm down to believe anything. If you told me gullible was written on the ceiling I'd get the damn ladder. So, what happened?"
The bacon and eggs sizzle while Brighton recounts just what happened while you were out cold.
When you thought you were ready for this, you were completely, absolutely wrong.

>Meanwhile...

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>>1596692
>Be Tumultus
You are now TUMULTUS.
You are a lesser demon in service of GREAT PRESIDENT VALAX, and right now, you are unspeakably pissed off.
You are never trying to absorb a legionnaire's power, ever again. Your attempt at more power resulted in something that is completely unprecedented in the history of demonkind: instead of the demon possessing the mortal, it somehow backfired and the mortal possessed the demon.
The aforementioned mortal then spent seven hours in your body, mostly by ruining your meticulously ordered BOOKSHELVES, throwing papers all around your living cauldron, and finally coating the insides of your LIVING ROOM with ash and sulfur by nearly succeeding at an invocation that would have finally banished her from your body. It took you all your willpower to keep the magic flowing so that you could force her out at last.
A mortal possessing a demon - this has never happened before to your knowledge. You just wrote history by fucking up an extremely basic magical ritual. You feel like falling on your own pitchfork in shame.

>What do you do?

>>1597269
Write the book about what happened. Only make it seem like it was intentional. Let the egghead watchers or whoever test it out and get it published. With any luck, maybe we can get some recognition besides being an errand boy lesser demon.

>>1597269
Go clean up and get your bookshelf in order

>>1597338
>Write a book on the matter, make it seem like it's intentional, become famous
No way.
More attention in Hell is the exact opposite of what you're looking for. You want to get away from all of this bullshit. Writing a bestseller and becoming the center of attention is what you don't want.
Besides, you're a lesser demon. Chances are your INFERNAL COMMANDER or one of the LEGIONNAIRES will just steal your show and make it look like they did it. There isn't really a point to advertising your failure.

>>1597383
>Clean up
That sounds like a better idea. In fact, you'll get to it right away.
You are in the LIVING ROOM, in one of the corners where you've been flung by the explosion of HELLFIRE that occured about ten minutes ago. You've been lying here ever since, since you were too weak to get up.
You spent the last seven hours self-aware but unable to control your body, screaming silently at your possessor's mind-numbing idiocy and casual disregard for personal property as well as having to read through all those entry-level kindergartener GRIMOIRES all over again, as if they were a cruel reminder of what a failure you are at magic. As such, you know exactly what sort of mess she left behind, and are also aware that the unconscious bodies of AGROPPO and KUNIGUNDA lie in the ANTECHAMBER, next to te wrecked remains of the door.
They got what was coming to them. If you must commend the drunkard mortal on one thing, it's that her semi-decent attempt at a ritual treated those two assholes to a faceful of long-overdue hellfire.
You get up from the corner to inspect your living room. PAPERS containing very basic notes on magic litter the room, and every concievable surface is coated in a mixture of SOOT and BRIMSTONE POWDER. The soot is completely useless, but you might be able to sell the brimstone to some down-on-luck IMP. It will be a pain to scrub all of this off, though.
You head over to your ARMORY where you also keep your CLEANING SUPPLIES. After arming yourself with a mop and a bucket of INDUSTRIAL-STRENGTH DISSOLVANT drained right from the Pits, you head back to the LIVING ROOM and begin scrubbing. The LIBRARY will have to wait until this is done.
The soot-brimstone mixture clings to the wall persistently, but it's no match for your DISSOLVANT OF ETERNAL TORMENT. Slowly it begins to erode from the wrought iron walls. That's good, but barely improves your mood at all - cleaning MAGICAL RESIDUE from your living room was not what you imagined to be doing today. You imagined by now you'd be chilling in that good-for-nothing, alcoholic mortal's body, trying out what it's like to have limbs, and cooking up a blast. Instead, you're tail deep in brimstone. Incredible.
Your sulking is interrupted by faint noises from the ANTECHAMBER. When you go to check, mop still gripped in your tail, you come face to face with Agroppo and Kunigunda, apparently awake. Their faces are locked in abject fear as you appear.
Why are they suddenly afraid of you?

>>1597616
>sup, what are you two doing here ?

>>1597616
Yell at them for making even more mess
Becous esome how they are part of this.
Also hit them with broom and say if they tuch or mess this place up youl use the disvlonet on them

>>1597766
>Yell at them
You saw full well what they were trying to do, and they crossed the line. You're normally terrified of them, but the terror in their eyes makes you cockier than usual.
"And just what in Lucifer's name are you two still doing here?! I swear if you try ANYTHING sneaky, I'll pour all of that" - you point towards the bucket of dissolvant - "over your stupid fucking mugs. I'm fed up with the both of you, you hear me?" You smack Agroppo on the head with your MOP.
Your outburst, which would usually be followed by getting thoroughly beaten, is only met with a meek whimper from Kunigunda.
"Have mercy, Tumultus! Please! We'll leave you alone! No way!"
???

>>1598283
Get out
But youl both owe me a favor for lettting you live
Oh and a milkshake

>>1598366
((Two 66 dubs in a row, you're lucky anon))
>Spare their pathetic lives
You're getting a little drunk on your newfound power, so you make an attempt at playing the big bad INFERNAL GENERAL.
"Get out, right now. You both owe me a favor for letting you live, you know?"
The two legionnaires immediately get up and flee for their lives, with an expression of both fear and gratitutde. You yell after them:
"Oh, and show up sometime to FIX MY DAMNED DOOR!"
You slam shut the door of your LIVING CAULDRON but it swings back open on its broken hinges with a loud, pained creak.
You suddenly realize what you've done. If you had hands, you'd reward yourself with a facepalm right now.
You intimidated other demons! This is how one gets followers and admirers, which is how one rises in the HIERARCHY OF HELL. That is something that you do not want. Being the center of attention makes you sick.
"Playing the infernal general", really, Tumultus?! Smooth move, idiot. You've gone and done something you didn't want to do at all.
Urgh.
You really want to know why the douchebag duo is suddenly so afraid of you. Whatever, you really want to finish up your work as soon as you can.

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>Finish cleaning
You quickly finish up scrubbing your living room walls, then go over to the LIBRARY to assess the damage.
The place is an utter mess. Big piles of books weigh down on the READING TABLE, with some finished ones laid to rest woefully out of place. Your alphabetical filing system is all ruined, and this room is also littered with notes on MAGIC.
You notice the TOME OF INFINITE MIRRORS, written by Magister S. in the 13th century, bound in mirrors itself. Your eye twitches in annoyance.
This is one of the rarer and more valuable grimoires in your collection, and she went and treated it like a damn textbook. You swear by Lucifer, if she caused any harm to it, you'll go possess her friend and vomit green goo in her face.
As you reach for the TOME to give it a closer inspection, you notice one of your two FACES in the mirrorbound front cover.
Oh.
Ooooooh.
So this is why they were afraid of you.
Your appearance has changed somewhat. Your eyes are now a cold, glowing yellow and a small, eternal flame of HELLFIRE floats above each. Otherwise, your appearance remains relatively unchanged, but this is a fairly ghastly addition to your usual form.
Judging from your appearance, you seem to have advanced in DEMONIC POWER!

>>1598452
Oh my (can we call it do for short)
Fire eyes yes.

Aha im still waiting on that trip 6

>>1598452
I guse try to find out what your dp lvl is now?

>>1598652
>Assess demonic power level
You feel much more powerful now. You're pretty sure it's due to fighting off your possession, as the Inepte Guyde puts it, "through sheare Force of Wyll". While you're still a weakling Lesser Demon, you've moved past "pathetic worm" into the "weak wimp" area, and with some practice you may be able to learn a new kind of MAGIC!
The two legionnaires got scared of the burst of hellfire from the ritual and your newfound blazing eyes, which implies that neither of them knows anything at all about MAGIC. But once they figure out you're still not stronger than them, they will just get right back to bullying you again. You have to milk this little time for all it's worth.
>Current spells:
>Truesight (Valaxite basic spell)
>Unholy Whispering (Level: Weak)
>Empty slot

((Note: there won't be numerical power levels in this quest. I want to keep it entirely narrative-based.))

>>1598691
Now with the dp what to put in that empty slot?

Thats ok i just wanted a random number to make jokes
The dp jokes

>>1598716
>Consider your spell options
Your mood has improved somewhat with the discovery of your heightened MAGICAL PROWESS. You'll have to decide on a new spell to add to your repertoire, but right now you're tired as hell - the ritual and the seven hours preceding it drained you dry. You gotta sleep first.
You close the bucket of INFERNAL DISSOLVANT, and return it to the armory along with the MOP. You close the wrecked door to your best ability - you really hope nobody breaks in while you sleep.
You slither into your BEDCHAMBER, housing a bed that is impressive in size compared to your size. You set an alarm on your HELLPHONE, and you hit the hay.

>Meanwhile...

In Hell, you don't climb up on the corporate ladder. You climb down.

File: acerparva.png (254KB, 849x608px)

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>Be Acerparva
You are now ACERPARVA.
You are a LESSER DEMON serving Great King and President ZAGAN, commander of thirty-three Infernal Legions. Life is relatively good for you as a lowly accountant of the mighty SISIRRISI & SISIRRISI AVARICE TRUST - your coworkers treat you with as much respect as a lesser demon may possibly get and they pressure you into doing only 90% of their work. You don't feel particularly miserable, however, as you are practically in a ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR JOB, though sometimes even you feel overwhelmed by the amount of work piled onto you. Still, you're proud of yourself for clawing yourself up from coffee girl and stress relief punching bag status to the rank of accountant on the CORPORATE LADDER, despite being a lesser demon - most lesser demons at the Trust serve as footstools for the INFERNAL EXECUTIVES. Your sharp tongue, impatient nature and low level of DEMONIC POWER won't let you ascend further, however.
In your free time (about four full hours a week), you are an avid fan of BODY MODIFICATION - you have several PIERCINGS and turned your skin into a collage of various TATTOOS. You also read several MAGAZINES on this topic.
You also enjoy browsing the INTERNET from time to time, and have several BUSINESS ASSOCIATES all around Hell.
However, you have currently no time to engage in your hobbies, as you are too busy FREAKING OUT. You messed up, you messed up bad. You are so upset you can barely concentrate on the three different forms you're filling out at the moment.
A few hours ago, you were sent to a certain mortal called BRIGHTON MACKENZIE to retrieve an alleged asset of the Trust from her. Of course, the claim that the necklace is the Trust's property is a barefaced lie, one that you were instructed to tell.
Afterall, no demon owns the necklace holding DEMON LORD ZAGAN'S TEETH, except for Demon Lord Zagan himself.
In any case, the Trust's plan to curry the Demon Lord's favor and thus rise above its competitors by being the one to return the necklace failed. Mackenzie proved to be as stubborn as a drunk hellsteed and categorically refused to give up the necklace. Technically, she just rerouted you to the actual Holder of the Asset, but you're certain that the bloodthirsty Board of Infernal Executives will be all too enthusiastic to reinterpret this as refusal to give up the Asset, in which case the Legal Owner is permitted to retrieve it by force etc. etc.
You normally wouldn't care about a mortal getting gored by a bunch of corporate-hired MERCENARIES, except...
...Except this one is uncomfortably HOT. You're pretty sure you might be in love, which is both ridiculous and slightly worrisome.
You tried your best to convince her to give up the necklace to spare her from having to deepthroat a bunch of pitchforks, but she proved too hardheaded. You returned to your office hours ago and you still haven't dared to file your REPORT. The REPORT FORM lies on your desk, accusingly empty.
>What do you do?

New thread: >>1602241