The voice, grating and distorted, issues from directly behind Jacob, and there is, suddenly, a twisted figure eight feet tall, clad in black leather and a horned motorcycle helmet. The muscles beneath the leather appear too many, too much, not attached in quite the right places or the right proportions - as if someone took multiple bodies and braided them together.
Jacob isn't the kind of man who gets scared easily, or even mildly nervous. This... 'thing' inspires a bit of the latter, though he's good at hiding it, brow rising as he stares up at the tall creature.
"... And what are you supposed to be?"
oops only the dialogue was supposed to be bolded...
I AM THE LORD OF MATERIAL POWER. I AM ZIE WHO DOES NOT SERVE. THE ETERNAL REBEL, THE HEDONIST, THE SCAPEGOAT. I AM CALLED MALBOLGE, AND I AM THE DEVIL.
"... Okay, Mally-boy," he begins, going for levity because he'd rather not go down the route of the God-fearing man potentially in the presence of the actual Devil himself. "That's all very nice, but why am I here? Not that it isn't all charming in here, especially with the mood lighting you've got going on-" A hand waved to the blue flames. "-but I've got places to be."
"Where's the fun in that?" he jokes. "Besides, short of falling into a pit of molten lava or directly under an oncoming train, I think I can keep myself alive."
He cocks his head, giving the Devil a pointed look. "Unless you want to be a good chap and let me go home, Mally?"
"That's a load of crock, and there's a there for me to be if there's no here," Jacob argues, brow dropping in a scowl. "You've had your fun, now let me go."
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The voice, grating and distorted, issues from directly behind Jacob, and there is, suddenly, a twisted figure eight feet tall, clad in black leather and a horned motorcycle helmet. The muscles beneath the leather appear too many, too much, not attached in quite the right places or the right proportions - as if someone took multiple bodies and braided them together.
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"... And what are you supposed to be?"
oops only the dialogue was supposed to be bolded...
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"I don't take orders from you, mate."
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"That's nice, now, I think we're done here, not that this conversation wasn't just riveting," he says flippantly. "Where's the door?"
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He cocks his head, giving the Devil a pointed look. "Unless you want to be a good chap and let me go home, Mally?"
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There is, now, a door - a brass elevator grille set into one wall, too shadowy on the other side to make out any details.
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