Thread: To Reign In Hell (Amaril & Crow11)

The red sun beat down on Kandrel, oppressive in its inescapable heat. It wasn't the true sun, just as the hazy orange sky in which it sat heavily wasn't the true sky both were merely imitations, created by whatever forgotten demon lord had shaped Kandrel from the formless fabric of the Abyss in ages long past. In the emptiness of the void, enough power could make anything real. The name of Kandrel's creator may have been lost to time, but whoever they were, they must have found such a sky pleasing. Ashira knew she could change it. She thought about it sometimes, just for a change of pace. Each time, she thought better. She'd always liked the heat, and red suited her. She wore it now, as she stood on the balcony, surveying her domain. For a demon lord with the power to command a realm and alter it with a thought, changing shape was trivial, but as with the sun and sky, Ashira usually saw little point. For the most part, she looked human--tall, and with a figure that would've made sculptors weep, curves and slimness in perfect balance. Her dress showed off just enough of it, sleeveless and low-cut but fully hiding her legs, which somehow showed their length better than if they were visible. The bright fabric set off her dark caramel skin and curtain of jet-black hair. Of her true nature, only a few signs could be seen her golden eyes, uncommon but not impossible on their own the slight bulge just visible in her dress in front of her hips her sharp teeth and, most obviously, the horns protruding from beneath her hairline, not large, but sharp, curving back over the top of her head. From this vantage, she could see nearly the whole of Kandrel--any lord had to be able to observe what happened in their realm. Her fortress, seat of her power, stood at the center of it all, black stone and red banners, impregnable. Beneath, the city, where those of her subjects not so privileged to serve her directly dwelled. Beyond that, the jungle, carefully tended as a breeding ground for her beasts of burden and war. And at the farthest reaches, stretching off into the void, the wastes, where the souls damned to her custody labored to sustain her armies, overseen always by her taskmasters. On another day, she might have taken it all in...but today, as often lately, she found her attention drawn to a specific spot. She couldn't remember the woman's name--she must have known, at some point, as she knew the names of all whose bonds she held, but many other contracts had driven it from her mind. Just another slave, now...and yet, Ashira couldn't shake the niggling sense that there was something to this one. Perhaps it was her bearing, how she remained steady under the lash. Ashira had spent too long already letting curiosity and hope fight with caution, watching her. There was always danger in a prospect like this one...but then, every day was danger, especially here. Ashira hadn't climbed so high by never taking risks. And, whatever else might be, the fact remained, she was bored. It had been too long since she'd had a challenge. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Her mind was made up. Shaas? The guard stepped forward from his position at the door behind her. His face was all scales, fangs, and horns, his black armor all sharp, cruel edges--Ashira preferred her warriors intimidating rather than beautiful. That woman, she said, extending her power to him for a moment to let him see her. Go retrieve her, and bring her to me. Unharmed. Shaas bowed his head. At once, my queen. Without delay, he turned and set off. Ashira returned to her watching, a smile playing about her lips. Let the games begin. Out in the wastes, the taskmaster demon was interrupted from raising its lash by the appearance of a black-armored palace guard. Growling in frustration, it stepped aside, allowing the warrior to approach one of the workers. On your feet, worm, Shaas snarled, all hint of servility gone from his tone. Grabbing the woman roughly, he pulled her up, unlocking her chain from those next to her with his free hand. Be honored--your queen wishes your presence.