five--losers

[five--losers]

It's honestly a miracle that they were able to get all of the mages tied up.

The ones that lay semi unconscious were still writhing in agony their bodies flailing this way and that, at least those that had energy. The ones that had run themselves ragged or broken something with their flailing moved more like a fish that was out of water for too long barely able to propel themselves a millimeter off the ground as they struggled to get back in the water.

Of the two conscious ones the one that have been funneling magic directly into the image of the demon lord was bleeding from the eyes ears and mouth. Their skin turned pale and mumbled nearly incoherent phrases repeatedly as of trying to chant one last spell with nothing left to put into it.

Only one of the guard remained. Like many leader, he stood behind letting everyone else do the work while he reap the rewards. It also seems he was the first to attempt to flee so why would he drag the bodies with him?

He doesn't look keen on giving them information from the way he is glaring at them that's for certain.

He is in fact so preoccupied with his own hatred that the leader doesn't notice that his own eyes have subtly started to drip red as well....

((((..... Just realized I never actually sent this one....my b....-H))))

Uzaeris tsk's. "They don't seem long for this world."

Zecaeru and Aomaris scowl at the realization.

"Where's Izroul," Raestrao mutters to no one. "He could make them speak."

Mika strides past him, intent on examining these circles closer. This is her realm of expertise after all. "I recognize some of these sigils."

Malix stands opposite of her, arms crossed. "Summoning circle."

Raestrao looks to Malix with a sudden open fear. "Summoning...? You're certain of that?"

"Psssh, no," Malix snorts.

"You're not all wrong," Mika says.

Raestrao turns his attention to the one still-coherent guard and tightens his grasp around the guard's jaw. A dark slant undercuts Raestrao's voice. "You may yet receive a painless death. Explain yourself, now!"

[five--losers]

The image of the once mighty Demon Lord begins to sizzle and burn, dissolving wherever Damien's magic touches. He seems to be fighting it but it is very much a losing battle. The more he tries to recover the more he seems to unravel himself.

The boys are forced to watch as he struggles and fights, to get through the dopplegangers reaching out frantically as if to grab them and pull them into the same fate.

The pull of summoning is there as he roars all of the brothers true names at once.

"Raestrao!"

"Uzaeris!"

"Aomaris!"

"Zecaeru!"

"Izroul!"

But it is too weak. Laughably so. He has not enough flesh to maintain his visage even as the sinister magic in the air recedes from the surroundings and back into him.

With the darkness receded, They are left in the main entrance of the manor a complex circle of spell work painted on the floor in blood as several mages in court colors seize in agony. Two mages appear to still be standing one directly behind what remains of the demon lord, funneling magic trying to keep it together in a foolhardy gesture. The other seems to be pulling as many of the flailing bodies of the other mages as closely together as possible obviously gearing up for a retreat.

The summons do nothing. It is, after all, only an invitation. The boys have to accept it. And none of them want this.

Uzaeris conjures vines from his palms and along his arms, pushing and forcing the un-flesh off. He snaps these plants down and at his hooves to free himself to move, taking aim as Aomaris rips the illusion off wad by harsh wad with his manifested hands. Zecaeru's blades slice neatly through sinew and skin, blobs of organs seared and stirred all over him into one colossal heap left on the floor.

But then it all flickers, and as soon it's all gone.

The boys' tattoos are colored once more, though still a lost glamour spell. Circles in the main foyer...

Mages. Clad in the violets and golds of--

"The Royal Guard!" Malix shouts, now back in his casual shawl and frayed shorts. No love lost though. "Motherfuck me-- I shoulda known it was gonna be those conks."

Raestrao, who watched the image of his father shrivel and die before them, unclenched his jaw. "Mmh. As should I."

Just as those seeking retreat made it to the door, Mika appeared in the way, in her night blouse. "Boys! Thank god-- ah... thank Beelzabub you're all okay. What even happened?"

Raestrao stood tall in the foyer, a dizzying 7'5", and in a few swift stomps was at the doorway with both of the retreating mages in his clutches, lifted off their feeble feet.

A glance back, and yes. Aomaris, Zecaeru, and Uzaeris have also gotten the remaining mages under their control. Vines tether, pitch fists pin down, and knives press against necks. Doppelgangers stand by, unintrusive but ready to aid.

"A fine question, my love." Raestrao says, barely containing his fury. "Perhaps our uninvited guests can tell us."

[five--losers]

"My my... we've been causing quite a scene, haven't we?"

The Demon Lord's voice is the only steady and normal sound as piles of flesh slosh about trying to collect their falling pieces. He sounds almost bored looking over the doppelgangers before settling his gaze on the demons cowering away from the horrific scene in front of them.

Was he always so big?

So threatening?

It looks as if the Demon Lord somehow grew even taller, reminiscing of how he stood over the boys as children.

"Pathetic. Laughably so. You, your brothers, your little pet human, the pest. Is that what you're supposed to be? Funny? Because this little rebellion is growing tiresome."

Its hard to tell who the demon lord is addressing. They all know the tone he was using. Angry and mocking in a way that was meant to make them feel lesser. Like they were lesser.

"Regardless this game is over."

As if on command what remains of the servants begins pulling and draping itself over the boys, careful to go around the doppelgangers. They push and pull their skin and sinew in an attempt to pull the boys down onto their knees. A task made difficult by the fact that wherever they touch Damien creations their flesh seems to sizzle and evaporate.

For a moment, it's chaos. Zecaeru, Uzaeris, Aomaris, Raestrao, and Malix are overwhelmed, draped and slathered in gooey flesh and innards. The smell of decayed, burnt, gangrenous flesh hits everyone as the living becomes an undrained, crude monster engulfing them all.

It doesn't last long.

The doppelgangers feel the threat, know it's beat, and all five reach out to grasp the Demon Lord all at once.

---

Mika steps back from the two amorphous blobs, on her guard and still reeling from losing Damien. What in the hell is happening??

She summons two ice-pikes and sends them flying through the blobs, to be certain that nothing can or will chase her.

Back through the hallways she goes in a hurry, to find her men and to, hopefully, find answers.

[five--losers]

I have friends who like to be cheeky so sometimes I mistake asks for theirs. If I haven’t answered your ask, either tumblr ate it or I’m waiting on it.

[five--losers]

For a moment it looks like the whole world is frozen. In one part of the manor castle the servants go silent in unison. In another part of the manor castle a queen stops mid step reaching out to her son on concern. Everything around them goes eerily still for a few split seconds.

But then the Demon Lord moves and everything around them breaks.

It starts with their surroundings. Furniture, the walls, and the floor seem to blink in and out of existence. They clip on and out or reality so fast that it's as though they are flickering lights being turned on and off until the breaker resets and everything turns off leaving them standing in what seems to be an endless black abyss.

As the world collapses, so do the people around them. Their faces start to flicker, first their skin then the flesh beneath them. Everything seems to flicker and clip through one another. A guards' skin slopes off of his body where his shoulder used to be. A maid's eye dangles precariously by a rope of stray sinew pulled by gravity as her skull seems to collapse into nothingness 

All around them people begin to break down in ways that a flesh should not.

Everyone except him. 

Their father stands above them all unphased at the mounds of flesh that try to stick themselves back together around him. The single strike Aomaris landed doesn't appear to have phased him in the least as he looks down at his progeny with disdain and rage.

"And what did you think that would do?"

"Whoa-!" Zecaeru balks, glancing back and around. "Oh, Beelz... guys!?"

"Oh my," Uzaeris goes still, chills running up his spine.

Raestrao, however, trembles as he steps back. "Aomaris get away, now. This is some kind of trap, or trick..."

There's no hiding Aomaris' emotions though. He tries to let his rage take up the forefront but the fear creeps through. The fear of all that once was, and might again be.

Malix fought a shudder in his fancy robes, fought the urge to join Aomaris in this attack, but something held him back. Fear, likely. It kept him distanced, away from these wax people and this... illusion.

"Who'd fuckin' do this?" Malix said. "Like, why?"

---

Mika had just taken Izroul's face in her hands, just murmured for him to keep his eyes on her, when the whole world seized. It was by a sheer miracle that Izroul didn't see the horrid amalgamation of flesh and un-flesh that was now his mother.

But he heard it.

That voice had gone from gentle to split; a voice without a voice box, texture shrill and jagged like striking the teeth of a sawblade. And for such a nightmare over a voice that already shot him back into that place he couldn't come back from, it was far too much.

"Ah... ah, aaaAAAAH!!!"

Damien's eyes went from white to black as he thrashed himself free of Mika's grasp. A swipe of both hands, from behind his back to in front, and a rift tore through reality and opened around him, like a mouth, and swallowed Damien whole.

He was gone. Stolen away into his little pocket dimension.

"Damien, no!"

---

Izroul's doppelgangers rise up from the floor around the melting, mangled un-corpses, but five surround the Demon Lord. Red eyes stain their rage-filled faces.

[five--losers]

The servant sputters trying to rake in a breath but it sounds harsh and wheezing. It appears he may have damaged her vocal chords. Two of the servants at the back of the group run off down the hall clearly intent on getting someone.

Still despite the injury, as several other servants gather around her, their leader looks Raestrao and smiles. A superior condescending smile as a maid checks her injuries. As if he were nothing but a bug under her boot.

The other attendants urge her to seek medical attention but she stands brushing them off.

In spite of the damage he has inflicted she speaks.

"You'll pay for that, and I can't wait to watch."

She gets very close into his face again as if to show she isn't scared of him.

"What is going on here?"

Throngs of soilders enter first before they can see the source of the voice, but everyone in the room can recognize it before he rounds the turn.

After all that is the sound of the last voice any of them ever wanted to hear again.

It seems the Demon Lord has come to deal with this himself.

---

A gentle knock against the Crown Prince's door interrupts their conversation. A soft voice full of maternal concern comes from the other side.

"Izroul, dearest? Can I come in? "

Four faces drop.

Aomaris whirls and backs away from the doorway, he and Uzaeris and Zecaeru all backing up, as the Demon Lord fills it. Broad in the shoulders, massive spiraling horns. Dark hair flowing down his back and furs around his chest and neck, hooves that could flatten metal. As striking as they come, no one compares to Him.

And for a moment, Raestrao is a boy again. Seeing his father standing there, the only one who ever towered over him, it makes his pride quake and his hands tremble.

But it can't be. Because they all killed him. Watched him die.

"Nope. Fuck this."

Aomaris raises his hand and manifests a tar-black arm, bristling with unparalleled power and strength, barrels forward and plows his fist through the Demon Lord.

--

Izroul freezes.

Dead.

Still.

Mika turns and sees a woman. Then looks to Izroul and sees how his eyes have gone pin-prick white.

[five--losers]

The servants all stop and stare at Raestrao, not even answering Malix's question, before bursting into laughter.

"YOU? The Crown Prince? You must have lost whatever meager sense you were born with."

It seems difficult to imagine that the attendants looks of disgust could intensify but they did still whispering among themselves."

"Really? That a prince?"

"As if it could compare to his highness."

"Prince Damien is too kind to allow these rabble even the slightest favor."

The main attendant steps forward blatantly grabbing Raestrao by the jaw, leaning in to speak ever so quietly. She grips him with deceptively strong hands, pulling him down to glare at him with true hatred in her eyes.

"Your rather bold for a slave lacking in talent. Your resemblance to the Demon Lord is you only saving grace, but even that won't save you from the consequences of your disrespect. His Majesty will be hearing about your insolence, and you will be punished."

She only releases his face once she has had a chance to say her piece. She pushes him aside roughly and turns to Malix. Respectfully, she falls into a deep curtsey.

"I will take care of these annoyances my Lord. If you would proceed to the upper floors the Crown Prince will meet with you in his greeting room. I apologize for the disturbance."

---

A figure watches from the darkness of the hall as Mika renter's the Crown Prince's chambers...

((((🎵they both reached for the gun🎵-H))))

Their amusement, while a bit frustrating, didn't put Raestrao off too terribly. He wasn't used to being laughed at, but it wasn't their fault if they were unaware or wrong.

Prince Damien.

Now that was something interesting. Something all four of the brothers immediately noticed. How did this demon servant know their brother's human name? Of course, they hardly got the opportunity to explore that.

A hand yanked Raestrao down to the servant's eye level, and he was so surprised that he didn't even stop them.

Your resemblance to the Demon Lord is you only saving grace, but even that won't save you from the consequences--

Raestrao's expression dropped neutral. He barely thought in time to stop himself. His hand shot out, fingers latched around this servant's throat and lifted them off their hooves. Grip so tight as to cut off the air.

Aomaris made a face, while Uzaeris and Zecaeru sprang to their brother's side. "Oof. Get her ass."

"Hey, whoa Rae, easy now!"

"Bro, stop! She didn't mean it like that, we're being cool remember?"

Raestrao's eyes shone a vibrant black and gold. His voice, tri-tone and deathly low, but his expression perfectly controlled. "Compare me in any regard to my father again... it will be the last thing you ever do."

Zecaeru grabbed Raestrao's arm and tried to tug it back down to the ground. "Come... on... brooo...! We don't do this, remember? We swore when we left!"

Uzaeris put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Exactly, Rae. You're better than this, aren't you? Better than him?"

It caused a tremor in his face, a subtle shift, but the effects of his brothers' words were effective. Raestrao lowered the servant, loosened his grasp... and let her go.

Malix watched this all with round eyes. "Sheesh. Knew the daddy issues ran deep but hoo."

----

Izroul looked up from adjusting his royal outfit. "Mika...?"

Mika cried out and ran to him. He opened his arms to her and they cam together in a warm, worried embrace.

"Damien, oh god I was worried you would be in trouble!"

"Mika! O-oh... uh..." He steps back to look upon her outfit properly. "Wow... um, did you... pick this? You might wanna wear something different."

She turned to give it a look. "It's a bit open, yeah, but no I woke up in this."

Izroul's expression shifted to something somber. "That's not good. Here, there's got to be something you can wear in this wardrobe."

"Have you seen the others?"

"Not yet, no."

[five--losers]

Since Matthew likes bugs does he engage in Formicophilia?

Matthew shudders. "I-I-I don't know what that is but you said -philia and mentioned bugs soo I'm gonna take a wild guess and the answer is no! I like bugs in a non-sex related way! I don't like to imagine them crawling on me either."

[five--losers]

"Our apologies, Lord Malix but we really must hurry. The crown prince is waiting and it seemed most urgent. While your charity in gracing those lower than you with your presence is commendable I must insist we make haste." The attendants that seems to be the leader speaks smoothly and quickly as if used to appeasing nobility.

"If one of them has caught you eye, let me assure you I can find a whore if more suitable stock and have them waiting for you upon your return."

---

Elsewhere in the castle a room unlocks, and just outside the door of a certain human a n arrow appears pointing to the Prince's wing.

((((I suppose we get to the meat soon.-H))))

While they are all confused, and the boys slightly offended, the minute the word 'whore' is spoken a chorus of defensive cries rings up.

"Hey!" "Whoa now." "Excuse you!"

Malix waves his hands. "Aight aight aight I think that's enough now. Y'all put me in charge right? How about, you leave me with the sex demons and I'll figure out the rest. Yeah? You folks have been real great but I'm gonna do you a favor and insist you fuck off for a hot minute, aight? Aight."

Raestrao scowls. "Not to mention, I'm right here. These are Abyssal walls. Which crown prince are we speaking of if not me?"

--

Mika peers to the doorway, ever cautious in these new circumstances. Her first steps into the halls are quiet, barely even able to leave an echo. But she moves quickly.

The sub-liminal magic here is familiar in a way she can't quite place, but she knows it's bad.

The hallways stretch, too dark to be normal, but a warmth draws her closer, an aura she knows. And the door is open.

Mika peers inside. "Damien?"

[five--losers]

The attendants react quickly to the presence of the four whom clearly do not belong.

"Our apologies Lord Malix. You shouldn't be subjected to such a presence."

One of the more burly attendants moves between the brothers and the devil. Some of the more delicate ones clamor behind their Lord whispering in disdain. Though not whispering very quietly.

"what are they even doing here?"

"the demon lord must need them..."

"Ugh so the rest of us should be subjected to their smell?"

----

Upstairs, the crown prince finds a lavish wardrobe filled with jewels and silks and leathers. Even the plainest item here costs more than your average demon could hope to see in a year.

This time, Malix is able to stand firm without crumbling under the numerous forces pushing him. "Hey hey ladies ladies-- Ladies! Ladies. It's fine. It's fine. Really. It's fine. They're with me. They're fine."

The subtleties are not picked up on; Malix does think no one should have to be near these idiots after all.

The devil pushes through opposition and approaches the burly attendant. "I got a say here right? It's fine. I wanna talk to these assholes anyway."

"HEY. Who said I smell!?" Aomaris points to the servants. "If you're gonna talk shit, keep your voice down."

Raestrao stands up and levels, politely, with the bigger servant. "I think there's been a misunderstanding here. Who's in charge?"

--

Izroul finds his hands don't want to touch, and yet he can't resist. Some luxuries he's gotten used to from living with Mika - a warm bed, good food, loving company - but things like this? Expensive clothing the likes of which would never be left alone with him...

He finds putting on the gilded blouse is a strange process, with extra clasps along the sides and sparkling gems sewn into the fabric. It seems to come with a shimmering gold drape as well, one that sits on his shoulders.... nicely.

He feels like a true royal. It still feels crooked, but it's... nice.

[five--losers]

So we know what Mika is wearing

What Malix is wearing

What are the boys wearing? Damien I expect is gonna pick something fancy.

The other boys are probably in what Damien used to wear which is....what exactly?

Nothing!

Maybe basic linen robes of Seers, but beyond that, nekkie! Not as big a deal for a satyr.

[five--losers]

The guard gets up mechanically as the boys make a run for it. But does not give chase.

He simply stares as they run down the corridor draped in purple and gold banners.

Watching.

---

As luck would have it the brothers chose an escape route that leads them past a certain guest room where a certain devil is being trailed by several attendants.

((((I can't believe the guard got Tom and Jerry'd -H))))

"Huh?"

Aomaris has to skid and back up to peer through the doorway. Uzaeris collides with his back, and Raestrao-carrying-Zecaeru collides with Uzaeris, sending the whole group collapsing in a pile of hooves and horns.

Malix has been dressed in the royal colors of vibrant violet and burnished gold, his blouse clashing heavily with his skin color. "Ugh. Look I know it's fancy shit but can we please-- Eh? Douchebags?"

Zecaeru popped his head out from the dog pile. "Hey Malix there you are!"

"Ziggy! The fuck's goin' on? Hey Rae." Malix nods at him. "Y'all look different, what's all this shit about?"

"No clue," Raestrao stands up, helps his other brothers to their hooves. "We woke up in a cell and Izroul's nowhere in sight."

[five--losers]

Does Damien need help getting ready?

*puts on a sexy maid outfit*

Always happy to help

He looks up from assessing his tattoos. “Huh? Oh, uh… I guess I, I should be getting ready to see Malix, shouldn’t I.”

Damien looks around. “We can start by finding where they keep the clothes here.”

[five--losers]

*whispers* make a break for it

*trips the guard looney toons style*

The guard falls flat on his face stupidly easily.

The four brothers startle. Zecaeru jumps on Raestrao's back "Whoop! We're bustin' out after all!"

They make a break for it into the darkness, unsure of where they're even going or what 'it' is they're making a break for.

[five--losers]

Malix and Damien had breakfast and the other boys don't get any? That's not very nice :(

*sneaks them some granola bars*

The four receive the power bars as they walk with mixed gratitude. Matthew rips into it immediately.

"I have a distinct feeling," Uzaeris says, "That this might be the most we get to eat in a fair while."

"Me too," Aomaris says, and gets to eating as his stomach rumbles. "I don't like the feel of any of this."

"We'll figure this out. One way or another." Raestrao assures, a solemn slant to his frown.

Zecaeru nods, chewing. "Not like we can't handle ourselves. Whoever brought us here was dumb enough to leave us unshackled!"

[five--losers]

"Oh course your highness I will send word to him at once." The servants exit is just as silent as their presence, their movements mechanical. Throughout the entire exchange they show nothing but professionalism with not a hint of emotion.

So why was the maid smiling as the door closed behind her?

---

A knock interrupts Malix's meal. A servant calls through the door.

"My apologies Lord Malix, but his highness the Crown Prince requests your presence urgently. Your attendants have readied your attire for the day."

Though somewhat rude, the several attendants holding clothes and shimmering jewels enter the room, beelining for the devil as if their life depends on it.

"Allow us to dress you quickly my liege." One of the servants says bowing before him before reaching to help him undress.

---

The guard glares at Aomaris with empty eyes. Despite the lack of light or emotion in them the rest of his face contorts in a sneer, as if it was repulsive to even speak to demons in front of him.

"We have no time for your foolishness nor games. Come. You are being summoned by his Majesty."

The guard turns to leave not checking to see if they are following, As if the expectation is that they will obey. Who knows what the consequences will be if they do not.

((((Malix gets his prince movie moment😋-H))))

"Yes. Yes, thank you." Damien nods, and pays them no more heed for now.

There's a mirror in this room. He moves to it.

Gold. The color of the Crown Prince. Despite the fortuitous nature of this shift, Damien can't help but take note of how the color looks harsh against the browns of his satyr coat. How... unbecoming it is. Or is that his own mind? Insisting that because this is not what he knows, it must look as wrong as it feels?

No matter. Malix would know what to do. The devil usually did. Or if not, he would have the gumption to act.

--

The Crown Prince? Raestrao, Malix thinks, and narrows his eyes. "What's Goldy want?"

Before he can get his answer, he's swarmed by more servants. Instinct says being surrounded by people is as big a No as you can get in this place.

He hops back with his hands out,, tail curled between his legs. "Ay ay ay!! None-a that I can dress my damn self!!"

But they don't listen, and grab at his night clothes. Malix squawks and trips over himself, only holding back from violence from the desire to not mess up this nice place.

--

Aomaris lowers the flashlight as his head tries to sort through things. His Majesty? Dad? No, dad's dead. Who else? Not Diana. What other kingdom would go through the trouble of kidnapping them?

Zecaeru slides up, helping Raestrao to his feet. "I think we should go with it for now. Might help us figure out what's going on without having to kill anyone."

Raestrao grunts, putting his weight on his younger brother, but concedes. "Zee is right. Let's just keep our heads down for the moment."

Uzaeris steps over the crashed door gingerly. "Interesting plan considering you were too eager to break the door."

The eldest has the decency to look embarassed.

"Come along then, brothers. Let's see what father wants of us in this strange new place." Uzaeris announces, and walks to follow the guard.

The other three follow suit, though Aomaris keeps his guard up.

[five--losers]

There are no servants to bother her. She is not currently needed after all. The lady is allowed her rest. The owner of the house is the last to rise. Only is she the owner now, or another possession?

The room is lavish, maybe not fit for a king but certainly a consort. While she may not recognize the outfit she finds herself trapped in the princes certainly would.

Fortunately they are not here.

At the moment.

Another dream, she thinks.

Rising from this bed feels crooked, but rise she must. Mika knows these walls to be that of the Abyssal Kingdom, but the sunlight is that of home. Of Earth. A dream it must be, and yet to think that thought means it likely isn't.

She inspects herself in the mirror against the stone wall. Hair hanging free as usual, jewelry along her arms and fingers. Scarcely a piece of cloth to cover her decently. Thank goodness the room isn't cold.

It doesn't take a genius to guess what this outfit means. As lovely as it is, Mika knows she needs to find a way out. Better yet, find out what in hell is going on.

So, she raises her hands and begins chanting. Not all spells need the Grimoire to cast; some she has memorized. This will give her a reading on what magics are at play.

And to her relief, it's the work of the Grey. Grey magic is distinctive in its temporary power. Too,, it's often fairly harmless.

Often.

This means the boys are okay though. That's what matters most.

Now to unlock this door.