Lucifer's Rise

Standing at his altar within the center of Craentich Temple, surrounded by his full covenant of twelve witches, Loimós felt a presence that ought not to be there. It was oddly familiar yet not, at the same time.

Loimós dismissed his witches deep in meditation, contemplating strategies for the battles sure to come from Satan’s forces, now that winter was breaking.

Alone, he called out to the shadows, “You come before me once more. Come forward and be heard, Lucifer Morningstar.”

Re-outfitted in garb more to his taste, since he last laid eyes on the caster, Lucifer made his exact location known with heavy footfalls of his heeled boots.

Coming into the light of his magicked green firelight emanating from the brazier in the center of the room and small sconces throughout the temple, Loimós saw a great deal more than his new clothes. His cloak, black as his fine boots, was not a manufactured garment, but rather a conjuration. However simple conjuring some things may be, this cloak was something else. He’d never seen the like.

His appearance and demeanor were different as well. The blonde hair blue eyed angel still appeared fare of skin but the blackness of his hair and eyes spoke of physical changes, not conjurations, like the cloak.

Absent one thing, Loimós broke the ice with, “I see you do not carry the spear I leant you. Can I assume it did its job but now lies destroyed? Perhaps consumed by the lava within a certain volcano?”

Lucifer smirked on his right side, revealing a glistening white fang, also new to his physical features. They were retractable, but he found he liked them and kept them out most of the time since his forging.

His smile enough of a confirmation to his questions, Loimós furthered the conversation in another direction. “Tell me, fallen one. What does an archangel without a world of his own do? Now that your body is not empty, shall we say, as it was when last we met?”

Casually moving to his left, Lucifer extended an arm out of his cowl, feeling the first stone column with his fingertips as he went. Now on Loimós’ right, he offered, “I owe you a debt. I will repay it a hundred-fold. Maybe more.”

“Meaning?”

Lucifer gave a shrug as he continued to circle the pishacha demon lord. Lord by his own making, securing a foothold in the unclaimed Wyn Mountains. Unclaimed at least as far as the recognized kingdoms of Hell were concerned. He was ambitious. A trait he intended to fashion to his needs.

Now on Loimós’ left, Lucifer expounded, “When last we met, you could have easily killed me, if I’m honest. Yet you did not. Instead, you offered aid and sent me away. In the meantime, as I’ve ascertained from scouting before presenting myself, you fought Satan’s legion under command of the archdemon, Kurnalos. A good victory, but tell me, did Kurnalos perish?”

He admitted, “Kurnalos slunk back to Slyborn Fortress.”

“Pity.” Lucifer lamented. The archdemons under Satan’s command were a force to be reckoned with, each and every one. Back in front of Loimós, he ceased circling and stood straight to the seven plus foot tall pishacha demon looking more or less eye to eye with him, as he was one step up from the level of the center of the temple. “I take it your army took a great deal of casualties?”

Outnumbered two to one in the siege, Loimós’ forces fared well thanks to his strategy and fighting from the stronger defensive position with better siege weapons. He did however lose approximately half of his vex demon infantry. Since then, even in winter, his vex numbers had been replenished. Word of his victory spread further into areas within the Wyn Mountains that he wasn’t in direct control of. Vex clans trickled in, bringing the corporeal numbers of his mixed force back to previous levels.

His bhoot creations were another matter. It took him years to create the thousand or so he had. The spirits were the turning point in the battle for the strategic value of Craentich Temple, but they would not be so easily restocked. Half of them gone as well, his forces would be at a considerable deficit when the next legion of Satan’s showed.

Aside from troop numbers, they’d salvaged weapons, armor, a dozen oxen, a few surviving torkons, food stuffs, and two enormous catapults. They’d repaired the damage to their defensive wall blocking passage west and added to its defenses. Their new short-range catapults had been hoisted atop additions to his gate in order to better protect against the next assault.

All of that in mind, Loimós answered simply, “My demons fought well, killing twice as many as we lost, and strides have been made to strengthen our position over the past two moons.”

Not meaning to offend, Lucifer hoped he wasn’t doing so. It was not his intent at all. He was impressed with Loimós. But with him being half spirit and no real facial features in which to judge his reactions to their conversation, he quickened to flattery. “I believe we share an ambition, my friend. An ambition I would bolster ever higher.”

Not offended but intrigued with whatever this power was standing before him, Loimós nevertheless needed him to get to his point. “Speak plainly, friend.” He put some emphasis on the word ‘friend’ since it was not often used by demons.

“Very well.” Lucifer conceded and spoke his ultimate goal aloud. “I seek to replace Satan as king.”

Not really having a sense of humor, or much of any positive emotions, Loimós still assumed he was joking. “Your jest is not appreciated.”

“I do not jest.” Lucifer raised his inflection a bit but cooled a second later. “Tell me you do not wish the same. Satan and his archdemons must perish. Why else would you battle against Kurnalos, backed by Satan?”

Practical, Loimós defended, “I seek to deny the furthering of Satan’s lands into the Wyn Mountains. Yet I won’t deny my wish to see Kurnalos and a few other archdemons dead for past transgressions.”

“Why not more? Join me.” Lucifer laid it out, plain as day.

Join? The notion was absurd. Loimós questioned the ridiculousness of his request. “You would have me give my army over to you? To serve you? Giving away all of my gains?”

Lucifer was shaking his head ‘no’ before he even finished. “No. I do not wish to take from you. I wish to strengthen your army for our common cause. You will be its general. Not me.” He scoffed at the end, as if the notion of him being a general was absurd.

Loimós stated the obvious, “And you would be the king.”

“No, Loimós. I would be your king. You see, Hell has it all wrong. Every one of the so-called kings. Kings serve at the leisure of their subjects. Not the other way around. There is back and forth, for sure. We could sit here and debate the entirety of the relationship between who rules and who is ruled. But the simple truth should be that the king provides. Otherwise, you only rule through fear. That is not a true king. Not in my book and certainly not in the one we will write together.”

Loimós thought hard on his words. It was a foreign notion, even for one as educated as he.

After a time of silence between the two powers, Lucifer backed away, replacing the hood atop his head. Into the shadows beyond the green flames, he announced his intention, “Look to the west on the morrow, my friend. I will show you what I mean.”

Eyes able to penetrate shadow to some degree, Loimós was impressed when he realized Lucifer had vanished without him hearing a word of spell usage verbalized or seeing a tracer of magical energy used. This was getting interesting. What exactly did he aid in the creation of?