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We Are The Horde

Ahh the mortal stench is still here. And your protector, that righteous Dominion, Maggie, is nowhere to be found.

Good. You SHOULD hear things from my perspective. Contrary to popular belief, demons always speak the truth.

Or was that a lie?

You’ll never know. That is what is so great about the Malifecium, we are born into manipulation and deceit.

Alright, I will fill your fancies by speaking about the Horde and the glory of being one of its demon hatchlings. Not that I owe you meat anything, but perhaps a few of you will have nightmares based off what I say, so I would call that a win-win on both our ends.

As I stated before, we are not little goat men running around, nor is our skin the color of a tomato, and I have yet to see one of my kind sprout horns or clop around on hooves. Your ancestors had wild imaginations about the celestial population, both light and dark. When Dante wrote the Divine Comedy, he was smoking a good amount of opium, supplied to him by a lesser demon who had possessed a young woman whom the poet was fond of. There was method to her madness. Said demon, I believe her name was Merrila, whispered what would become the Inferno into Dante’s ear during their nightly euphoric throes of passion.

Boom. And there you have it.

As a result, to your people a demon became a bat-winged, fork-tailed deformed monstrosity, with a jutted chin and a mouth full of jagged, razor sharp teeth.

We demons actually have excellent dental hygiene.

But Merrila completed her mission. Your kind still fears the creatures created by Dante and his like to this day. Sin and transgressions are threatened with one of those gnarled visions reaching out from the shadows and yanking an unsuspecting mortal down south by their sinfully wicked soul. While I am amused by the concept, it’s all brimstone and mirrors. Science Fiction.

We Malifecium are hatched perfect. Perfect bone structure, perfect hair, six-pack abs. We are celestials after all, just a bit more rough around the spiritual edges. And the higher you go in the Horde’s hierarchy, the more power you possess:

Some demons can manipulate gravity -- walking up the side of a wall or crawling across the ceiling without effort. Others can consume and breathe fire (an invaluable party trick). While others have the ability to regrow their limbs if cut off in battle. I have actually used that specific skill on occasion. This right hand here is my sixteenth.

All that said, every demon shares two specific aptitudes. The first is the power to smell and manipulate fear. We can pull it from a mortal soul and contort and reposition it to fit our needs. That is why, at times, the fearful stirrings of a few people during a peaceful gathering can be turned into a riotous panic when a few strategically placed demons get involved. The second is our ability to play with the darkness that surrounds us. For some, a dark corner can be used to transport to another shadowed place. Others can wear the dark like a fine worn coat or shawl, and it will intensify our senses: to see, to hunt, to overpower.

Because I was born a Duke of the highest order, I am a master of shadow play. It speaks in my ear, begging for me to puppet its strings. I have turned shadow into impenetrable armor, as well as a fine tailored suit. I have wielded it into the sharpest of blades in battle, and I have employed its vapors to seduce and ravage.

Maggie can speak a little more on that. Heh...

Since Her Angelness went on and on about the Orders of the Authority, I will do the same as it pertains to the Malifecium.

First, there is no such thing as a Prince of Darkness. That term was created by your poet romantics and retread through popular culture and the media.

“Devil” is another term I despise. Devil is akin to a lemming in my imagination. Such a creature doesn’t exist, and to attach that term to our dark sister in the south should be punishable by my seven-foot boot pressed down on your blasphemous throat.

Oh, you weren’t aware the ruler of The Pit was a woman? Why shouldn’t she be? She is the Source’s first creation, a child of likeness to the Source in every way, save for her very black heart. Like the Source, our dark sister doesn’t utter a word, for her voice has the ability to melt time and space. To describe her would be to describe nightshade itself, her beauty is unmatched in all of the Communion. Unlike the Source, who communicates through fluffy, obnoxious dreams, our leader speaks to the demon Horde in our nightmares. And we are wise to listen and follow.

Now, the top of our class is Duke. I was one of the highest in my order, hatched to serve as such. While Maggie prattles on and on about her acumen in battle, I was unmatched within the nine realms of The Pit. Many a battle arena I stained with blood.

Under Duke is Umbra. They are akin to the Angels’ Dominion class and known as our warriors. Each Duke is given several hundred Umbra to command, and the more power each of that demon class procures, the stronger they become. My Umbra fold was feared throughout the nine realms, their power unmatched. They await my return...

Soon, very soon.

Our bottom-feeders are called Thralls. It was a term that became a part of the ancient Norse language because many of our Thralls were fond of possessing Viking warriors on their very bloody and brutal pillages throughout Western and Eastern Europe. The Thralls are bootlickers, possessing basic demonic strengths, but weak to human temptation. Whenever you hear about someone in the mortal world getting possessed, it is because a Thrall wanted to try on a human (or animal) skin for a time, whether for sexual, recreational, or violent means. I could give you a laundry list of prostitutes, mass murderers, and sexual predators that have been controlled, to varying degrees, by a Thrall. And I would include a few actors and politicians on that list. Many times, a Thrall and an angelic Guide are known to butt heads. It happens more often than you could imagine, the open battles the two sides have on your streets.

What you would classify as “magic” is all around you, mortals. You are just too blind, or too stupid, to experience it.

I hope you learned something from all of this. If not, I couldn’t care less.

By the way, while Maggie has stated that she thinks your ilk is the Source’s greatest creation, I believe you are her greatest mistake and you will bring about her undoing.




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