Unknown Deep Space

Genius Loci

“What is that?”

He shrieked a laugh, causing the azure-robed angel to shrink away.

Oh, she’s a shy one! They’re the most fun to mess with!

He didn’t expect this.

Slatey had said she was grabbing her bestie- who knew it was an angel!?

“What. Is. That!? No wonder the ritual took more life than intended! Poor guys- oh, well! At least they’ll get compensation...”

He gestured to the charred masses. His goblin followers gave up their lives easily enough. And they were easy to bring back. The perfect pawns.

“Oh dear- Are t-t-those- people?”

The angel spoke with a hesitant and trembling tone.

“Oh-ho she’s going to be a fun one! It’s always hilarious to get the weak ones to commit atrocities!”

He clasped his hands together, gracefully marching to her. He stared down at the pathetic angel.

“Slatey, you didn’t say she was an angel!”

He bent down, smiling wide as his senses took her in.

“Who. Are. You?”

She shuddered at his hideous voice. She coughed into her sleeve, trying to recover.

She introduced herself with shaky voice, “I-I’m the Angel of Familiars- Lesser K-K-Key of Solomon, Angel of Ast-t-tronomy, The Inciter, Angel of the Goet-t-ic D-demon, Angel of Treasure Seeking, Angel of Ma-Ma-Magic And… Angel of the Liberal Arts.”

He bust out laughing, shrieking like a goat. The angel shrunk back, embarrassment obvious on her body language.

“Unbelievable! Slatey! You choose the most fascinating acquaintances!”

Slate blew out a sigh, rolling her only eye.

“She’s my bestie-”

“-Angel of the Liberal Arts! Who does that!? HAHAHAHAHA!”

He couldn’t help himself. Egging others on was his calling. The angel shrunk away, putting her oversized hands to her face.

“Stop that,” Slate’s sleepy voice commanded.

“Oh, come on, Slatey- Slatey- Slatey! I only mock because I care!”

“Liar.”

“You’re right! I couldn’t care less!” he laughed again. It was all so absurd. He paused, giving the display of gathering his composure.

“So? Is this everyone?”

Slate nodded unenthusiastically.

“Very well! Let us be on our way.”

The pathetic angel didn’t shy away from his biting voice. She suddenly stood firm, white eyes blinking, taking him in.

Oh, she does have some spine...

“Y-you’re the other d-d-demon?” she asked.

“Ca-ca-ca-correct!” he mockingly stuttered back at her. She bowed her head, looking away. The rest of her composer held. She was gaining confidence by the second.

“And how did you become besties with Slatey Slate here? She’s not besties with me, a shame really.”

Slate folded her arms, answering for her.

“We fought, we had fun, and then she had cheese.”

He barked a laugh, palming his cueball head.

“Hah! Little angel got right to the root of Slatey’s desires! Her stomach! How wonderful...”

“Wow, I think you’re an awesome looking demon.”

He choked on his laughter, looking straight into the angel.

She is an oddity. I think I’m going to like her!

“Kiss-assery get’s you nowhere with me, little angel.”

He pointed a finger at her, curious to see her reaction.

“No, really! You’re like- so cool! And amazing! And I would know- I’m the best!”

He felt her sincerity. She was honest. And simple. And pathetic. Was she actually a fallen angel? Was she so evil as he was led to believe? He lowered his hand, palming his head as he laughed.

“Oh, how wonderful that this trip won’t be boooring like the others! What’s your name, Amy, little angel?

“Oh- Uh- Amy. Angel of- wait, you already know- how did you know?”

He tapped his head, “That’s a secret, my dear and wonderful Amy.”

“Oh,” she clasped her hands together.

He palmed his mouth, turning to his lackeys, “can you believe these kids?” he turned back to them, “who’s the chaperone- you two, or me?”

“Uh- what?”

He marched away from the carbon littered summoning circle.

“Bored now! Amy, angel of the Liberal Arts, show us what you’ve got!”

“W-w-what?”

“Neon, stop this.”

He turned back to Slate, standing at his full height, pressuring all with his aura.

“No. You know the rules. MY rules. She will fight.”

She harrumphed, going quiet.

“Slatey, what d-d-do you mean fight?”

Amy cowered, glancing about the room as all of the surviving acolytes eyed her. She was a stepping stone to his glory.

“Just give him a show. Fight them like you fought me.”

Amy narrowed her eyes, “No. Not like I fought you- that was fun! This- this is serious, no way! I’ll give him a fight!”

“That’s a good Amy… Show us, little angel! Show us you’re worthy!”

All of the goblins clothed in green robes shrieked as one, brandishing their knives. Genius Loci snapped a finger, pointing to one of them. The goblin trembled in anticipation, skulking to Amy.

“Go, Gup! Defend your amazing master!”

From a portal lept a black demon lizard, touching down on the ground. It held a large sack slung over its shoulder. It’s bulging eyes darted like cameras, surveying the room.

He could instantly tell it was barely sentient.

The goblin shrieked rushing to attack.

“Beat him up, Gup! Go!”

The demon lizard reacted quickly, crawling on three limbs and spinning with his tail. The goblin barked in surprise at the quick move, falling on its butt.

“Go, finish him! The bag!”

The demon paused, looking back at the angel.

“Uh- yes- master Amy!”

“Don’t look at me, you big idiot! Why are you looking at me? That! The- get him- the goblin!” She jumped up and down, pointing frantically at the knifer.

Genius Loci barked a laugh at the ridiculous battle. Normally he’d finish it now, but it was just too entertaining to end it so soon. This Amy and Gup were precious commodities of comedy.

The goblin lept back to his feet, rushing in with the dagger.

Gup turned, blocking it with the sack. The knife sunk into the fabric, unable to penetrate. The demon lizard pushed back.

“Pocket Sand!”

From Gup’s hand came a stream of sand, hitting the goblin right in its eyes. It howled, backing away as it swung the knife wildly.

“Pilfer Roulette!”

A shadow of a grubby hand rushed to the goblin, grabbing its emerald robes and vanishing it away, leaving it only its loincloth.

The lizard demon paused, eyeing the well made cloth for a moment.

“Gup! Gup- you idiot- focus! Just focus! FOCUS! I won’t stand for it, no sir!”

The lizard demon proceeded to ignore her master, wiggling into the robe and popping its head out. Genius Loci howled in laughter at how absurd the fight went. The goblin rubbed the sand out of an eye before charging full sprint. And then Gup raised his bag, crashing it down atop the goblin’s head, slamming him flat.

There was only silence as the duel ended, his minion having been bested by the angel’s own.

Genius Loci gave a slow clap.

“HAHAHAH! Well look at this! A summoner! Although, your demon leaves a lot to be desired- I mean, I can do more with an empty potato sack!”

“And yet, your guy lost! You- you- you loser! A loser… Uh- who- who- who loses!” Amy shot back, clasping her hands with a smile in her eyes.

Slate gave a single bark chuckle.

He laughed back at the both of them. It was all so ridiculous.

“Oh, you bested a bottom barreler, no doubt! You should pit that little germ against a true believer.” his smile grew, stretching to unnatural lengths. Angels were always a blast one way or another. He was still picking out skull fragments between his fingers from the last fight.

“Oh yeah?” she put her hands on her tiny hips.

“Oh, I insist.”

She didn’t shudder as she should have under his mental attacks.

Very strange- this one is! I’m starting to like her!

Slate elbowed Amy, giving her a tired look, “It’s your turn now. He was going easy on you because you’re with me and I’d eat him.”

“Hah! Only because it’s fun to let you think that! Show us, Amy.”

His followers tensed in anticipation, their daggers glinting and ready for work.

The smaller angel cracked her fingers back, glancing to the green robed Gup. The angel’s temperance and mood changed with her minor victory, showing her unearned pride was far too big for her insecure heart. A pendulum that swung too far one way could just as easily swing in reverse. A minor defeat could easily shatter her. His smile had a dozen different meanings at any one time, but right now, the anticipation of breaking her was displayed for all to see.

“Gup! Get the table.”

Her lizard demon placed the sack down and undrew the strings, slipping inside and pulling out a large round object. He dropped it down with a grunt and clattering rumble.

His smile wavered for a second. It was as the bossy angel demanded; a literal table.

What a fascinating bag… Pre-QSD era? I can taste the age of it. What a relic! I want...

Gup reached into the bag, depositing chairs, a tea pot, cups, saucers, and spoons. Within moments the table was set.

“Everyone be seated!” Amy ordered

Amy grabbed her favorite chair, Slate one next to her right, and Gup just stood there vacantly.

“Well, mister green- guy- uh- I don’t know your name. Have a seat Mr. Green demon guy!”

He chuckled at her impertinence, gathering a seat opposite to her, his knees jutting out too long, his elbows running too deep onto the table, his disquieting fingers twitching like insect legs.

A smile too malevolent.

“And? Is this your challenge?”

“Yup! A tea party!”

“And what do we do exactly, little angel?”

He snapped a finger and the acolytes began cleaning up the ash, and bodies of their comrades. His minions exchanged glances, sheathing their knives. He snapped twice more and more goblins appeared from the shadows of the hangar, carrying food and drink of all sorts.

“Uh- t-t-talk… -ahem- and tea.”

Amy glanced around, blinking rapidly.

“You’d think I’d allow you to set the pace? Look who you’re dealing with- Slatey can attest!”

Slate and Amy exchanged looks, with Slate giving her a shrugging nod.

“It’s best to humor him.”

“Or at the very least be humorous for me!”

Succulent food of all kinds were placed down. Meats and cheeses, sweets and delights. Goblets filled with drinks clinked and spilled. Each of his followers wore grins of joy, as if every mundane task was of the most glorious of sorts. He taught them well. Even his defeated minion would awaken with new found enthusiasm. Or perhaps a new growth. More Trows wouldn’t hurt. A hobgoblin would make for a fine lieutenant. A Redcap or Bugbear would be a major success. An Erlking was still only myth, a story told to other goblins. But if he somehow unlocked that, he’d possibly have another equal, based on the myths. They as a species changed through their environment. He had yet to unlock the secrets of how it worked. Every encounter, no matter how innocuous, could lead to breakthrough.

He could just dissect one and call it a day, but Fae magic was wiley and trying to force it was like grasping smoke. If anything, he was patient. Goblinkind were a plant he would culture.

Slate began gorging herself, swallowing down her food and plate in a single gulp. She clacked her pointed teeth together, blinking her sole eye back at him.

“How’s the food, Slatey?”

She shrugged, her eye going half closed.

“So’k.”

“So difficult to please, are we?”

“You’re not a god of culinary.”

Amy’s head snapped from one to the other, eyes wide with fascination.

“Maybe quantity will sate you, then, eh Slatey?”

“Amy makes better food,” she bluntly replied.

He snapped to the angel, a slow wheezing laugh escaping his mouth like the final breath of a dying man.

“Her? That sad angel- Amy, Angel of the Liberal Arts? A better chef than moi?”

He gestured to himself, feigning hurt.

“Yup,” Slate brushed back her inky hair, keeping heye locked on him.

“Uh, Mr. Green? Demon guy? Uh- what’s your name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he shot.

She nodded quickly, his sarcasm missed on her.

“Well, if you had to call me anything, Neon would be it.”

“Oh! A code name- super cool!”

She already caught on. Far more clever than she lets on. I wonder if she realizes just how smart she is. Someone has been cutting her legs out from under her. I’d like to meet this bad influence! Encasing this pathetic angel in a shell of insecurities.

He looked to the vacantly blinking lizard, sporting his cult’s robe. Most of the food he had was spilled upon himself.

Perhaps not as smart as I surmised. Hah!

The ridiculous angel pulled out from nowhere a wrapped block of cheese. Slatey snapped her eye to Amy with an intensity he was only familiar with in violence and bloodshed. The white veins of her eyes writhed.

“Is that?” the inky demon asked.

“Yup!” Amy replied, pinching the wax paper and giving it a playful tug.

He could smell it. And not just smell it, but sense it. It radiated power. But how could that be?

She made it ages ago… Old world stuff… She made it with love… Does she know her calling? This angel didn’t appear to truly appreciate her title... She’s older than I am and sooo broken! Who did this to her? Who hurt her? Could it be..? Could it really be the god of the fallen angels who has sabotaged it’s own followers? How devilish… How conniving. How… Evil...

He absorbed the spiritual radiation as understanding flooded him. It wasn’t just cheese.

It was a spiritual food that his kind could feast upon by proximity. That was why Slate desired it so much. That was why his decadent food was nothing to her.

How old is this Amy? Curiosities and mysteries… My favorite! I will decipher this angel and discard her like the others… Or add her to my fold… Can never have enough broken trophies!

He thought back to Barthin, his new bastardized champion. He was fallen as well- chances were high they knew each other. But that was an ace for later. Her reaction would reveal a lot, but he had to do it at a time she least expected it. Too early or too later and the entertainment he’d get from the reunion would be muted.

It had to be like his battle with Half-Clap. That foolish one armed angel.

Seeing him run in terror was more crisp than any wine. Seeing his child and her friends tear up the others was just as sweet.

Maw…

He thought longingly for his child. She was in good hands. Whatever this adventure would bring them, he was sure she would grow. Pain and agony notwithstanding.

He waited as Slate grasped the fully opened wheel of cheese. He had to time it just right. His power grew so subtly none could notice. He waited for that exact moment. She bit down, her eyes closing in anticipation. Just as her eye-lid began to open, just as she were in the throes of the euphoria of flavor, he struck.

He channeled his psychokinetic powers, trapping her inside his Mind Labyrinth. Everyone was trapped, except for both he and Amy.

Everyone froze.

‘Show time!”

“Slate? Gup?” Amy looked from friend to minion.

“Now that we’re alone, you can really tell me who you are.”

He clasped his hands, sporting that most wicked smile.

“Hey- wait a minute! What did you do? I-I-I won’t stand for it, no sir!”

“Me?” he feigned innocence, “We’re just having a private chat. Alone.”

Amy grimaced, appearing quite cross.

“No! You let Slate go, now!”

“Fascinating you’ve grown an unearned backbone within moments of meeting me. It makes it all the more fun to snap in half.”

“W-wait! You can’t do this! Slate invited me! I’m her guest!”

“And I’m the host,” he leaned in, clasping his twitching fingers together, “as far as I’m concerned, you’re a parasite to my dear friend, Slatey.”

“W-what?”

“You think your little act fooled anyone? An angel and demon god, best friends?”

“But we are best friends-”

“Enough.”

The angel went silent, staring at him with equal parts offense and worry.

“Tell me everything and I may let you live. Slatey would be disappointed in me, yes. But that fades! As do toxic angels.”

“And what are you going to do? I have Aegis against Demonkind- Hah! Y-y-you can’t hurt me!”

Oh- what a pitiable fool. She really is high on her own fumes- so to speak. Her pride and comfortable insecurity are what hold her together. An Aegis is just a wall to walk around.

“Who said I’d do anything to you?” his twitching hand pointed to his own cravat. That wicked smile twitched.

He snapped his fingers and a shadow appeared behind Amy. He knew the strange Corsair demon was hiding just under her robe. But it, like all the others, had a mind. A mind he could freeze.

Praetarca held out his four hands, striking with the power of his Proturan mind against her. He always found diversifying to be the strongest route. His insectile minions were new, yet familiar clay in his palms. He had played with their Ancath, collecting them under the nose of that most damnable church. Each he had visited, each he had made a contract with, showing them their time of demise. In their desperation and fury, they relinquished to him.

I’m such a brilliant sinner. Even Burgundy couldn’t have made such schemes. And I’m only three millenia!

He watched as the angel screamed. Such music. Such ecstasy.