Ω
On just this side of reality the unmistakably cries of agony rang throughout…
‘EXISTENCE IS FUTILE!’
‘OBLITERATE THE FUTURE’
‘ETERNITY TAKES FOREVER’
‘OBLIVION IS FREEDOM’
‘EXTINCTION BEGINS WITH YOU’
‘ALL HELLIANS…COME RAGE IN THE CAGE!’
‘DESTROY! ERADICATE! ANNIHILATE! DEVOUR!’
‘EXTERMINATE EXISTENCE!’
‘OBLITERATE THE FU . . .’
…the words repeated, paling in the distance.
The hour at hand…
Pan’s pipes sounded the call to assembly.
Instantly, King Abaddon appeared in a flash of electric-blue sparks.
Leering lasciviously, like only a hegoat could, Abaddon saluted the other Archonti, ‘the Chairmen’, with a deep-sweeping bow. His leathery wings spread wide, inviting scrutiny to all manner of vermin and crawling thing. *
Turning to address the general assembly - the Duelists - he paid homage with a series of belches and farts. Wafting forth a veritable blur of gas, this cloud transmuted into a swarm of locusts and flew up noses and in discrete cracks, devouring anything not attached, soaring higher and higher it exploded into flames, spelling out the words…
‘ABANDDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE!’
‘Oh yes…!
‘Horn and hoof buffed to high-black, puss dripping from every orifice, seething decay and surrounded by his phantom attendants…
‘This dynasty’s chosen tummler embodies the very idea of showmanship.
‘Who said he couldn’t hack it?
‘He was a perfect Master of Ceremonies.’
“Denizens of the Abyss, our humble abode,” …he began.
“Daimonions, Pneumatas, Devils and Dark Lords,
“Arch fiends,
‘…young and old…
“Welcome to, ‘Rage in the Cage!’”
His fellows went wild with whoops and hollers: beating fist to chest like tom-tom to war drum—talons gleaming, pitchforks sharp, curses at the ready.
Their teeth gnashed in approval.
“Here have we gathered, since the first of days, to fight the Godling nation bent on destroying us and recreating existence!”
* (Archonti (“First of Diamons”: Demons), the Chairmen: aka The Magnificent Seven—Baal (Baal-Hadad - Lord of Mount Zaphon: Demon stronghold), Hades (Lord of the Dead in his namesake underworld), Angra Mainyu (Ahriman, Avestan – the Black God: twin of Ahura Mazda), Hela (Hel – bi-colored Queen of Hel), Ha-satan (Satan: Lucifer – the Morning Star, Lord of the Fallen), Apep (Ogdoad descendant - Creator of Human Evil), Abaddon (Apollyon - King of the Damned)
The booing did not do justice to their contempt… but it helped!
“Now again …that time is upon us.
“Time to gird ourselves… and safe-keep our dark domain…
“Time to be valiant and seize hold of opportunity.
“THIS TIME, to eradicate the threat for once and for all…!”
The applause was deafening, cat-calls piercing enough to shatter bone.
“Yes, yes. Thank you
“…yes, thank you all…
“But… before we enter, yet again, into the Arena Immortalus, to contest ‘Goodness’ for the right of absolute supremacy…” he grumbled.
“I direct your attentions to the vouchers you now carry.”
Abaddon snapped his fingers and one of these presently materialized in his clutches—as it did simultaneously in everyone else’s.
ADMIT ONE
THE 999,999th MILLENNIAL MÊLÉE
“RAGE IN THE CAGE”
THE ETERNAL STRUGGLE CONTINUES
FORCES OF DARKNESS
VS
POWERS OF LIGHT
CURRENT STANDING
WHITE 1 — BLACK 0
The horde sneered at Kali and her sickeningly-sweet black heart.
The cretinous King chose to overlook the burbled guffaws.
“As to the invitation’s, irregular motif…?
“Let’s all give our appreciations to the Black Goddess,
“…and keep any other remarks to ourselves,
“…hmmm.
“Shall we…!?”
Black Kali was oblivious.
Skin a shade of midnight, she danced on a brazier of searing coals—breasts bare and bouncing, hips swaying invitingly.
Full and pouty, the Goddess’ bloodstained lips parted to reveal her fangs: perfect and unforgiving as diamond. A long blue tongue emerged, slithering snake like from her maw. Caressing every curve of her robust and womanly form, it slicked down the shock of ruby-red curls and slid back in between her lips, sizzling. Uncoiling a mala of severed heads from around her neck, she tossed the necklace at Abaddon’s feet—along with a ceremonial ax, a sacrificial stone-blade, a double dorje and a good sized right foot.
[Except possibly for the foot (toenails gave him horrible indigestion), none of these were a danger to him in any way. In Kali’s circle this was tantamount to flirtation. The little known fact being, the Goddess fancied Old Abby and had, for some time, been keen to tryst. With the object of her affections finally in reach, it was shine-time for the Dark Diva of Destruction.]
King Abaddon bit off the big toe and stuffed the rest into a pocket.
Kali giggled mischievously - like no hegoat ever could.
“Just lovely. Isn’t she?” He glared at the crowd, baiting them, daring them to crack wise…“Such a doll” …disappointed that no one made a peep.
“Well then, back to those vouchers,”
Abaddon pointed out the fine-print with a flamboyant twist of his barbed tail. He needn’t have used the tail, but having had the scales studded—especially for the occasion—was all the excuse he required.
“By all means…
“DO!... note the tally!” …he added, spitting out a bit of toenail.
Obliged - each with his, her, or, its, own flashing voucher - Devilkin stared blankly…each with the same, matter-‘o’-fact, expression.
“White—1…
(…pausing for effect, he spoke in a slow, grave tone, his mood so sublime as to be terminal…)
“Black—nil…?
“In case you’ve forgotten, we’re the,”
[…he made little air-quotes…]
“‘Forces of Darkness!’
“…? Forces…?
“There’s a lark. More like farces says me!
“ONE, NIL…?
“Are you serious…?
“In all the epochs of all the eons, not once has this sorry assortment of bloodsucking posers bested that pansy-assed-bouquet of do-gooder-poofs!?
“And you call yourselves ‘Legion’…?
“More like lesions says I.”
Abaddon glowered as the constituency mulled, scuffing their feet, gnawing claws and tails and tongues, murmuring curses to ward off his attentions.
Kali, the ‘Night of Death’, was above reprisal. Eyelashes batting feverishly, the Black Goddess blew him kisses.
“Intolerable!” …Abby trudged on, undeterred, “This cannot continue as it has,” …on and on and on, “So…!” until he felt he’d finally gotten the point across, “…our Chief Counselor has generously consented to lend us the wisdom of his experience.
“If you please,” …said Abby, bowing as low as he might.
“Lord Satan”
At the merest mention of his name, a rush of searing winds leapt from beneath their mass as if to scorch the air clean of every last rebellious sound.
The rabble of the horde screeched to halt.
A shadowy form—indistinguishable from the crackling gale of churning souls surrounding him—the Black Angel (Ha-satan: Emperor of Atrocity and undisputed Lord of the Fallen) rose from his ‘Throne of Perversion’.
“Yes, thank you my old ally,” the Dark Lord answered and turned ‘round to pontificate for the masses.
“Oy gevalt... Look you lot… listen here.”
The epitome of repugnance, Satan, had for eons thought to educate his minions, at least enough to follow orders. His efforts had however proven futile. He’d since given up and accepted that he would just have to say things slow and loud, and repeatedly, if he wanted anything to be taken seriously.
“Not mentioning names, but in the past, as you may recall, some among us decided it would be fun to have, ‘A go!’…at the ‘Lights’ themselves.
“Isn’t that right, Bafo…?”
Bafomet (Baphomet: ‘El Gran Cabrón’), the hermaphroditic apostle of Satan, had been subdued by a Duelist under the guiding hand of Marduk.
Bafo returned to the Arena, taken with ‘Fever’, intent on exacting Tiamat’s Vendetta and, ‘…spreading Marduk’s viscera throughout the Kosmos!’. He made a savage, goring run at Marduk: horns ripping him clean through. The match was called, victory levied in favor of White: Bafomet disqualified and made ineligible for eternity—observance, his only grace.
Bafo looked flushed (the black and white halves fluxing intermittently between checkerboards and polka dots), but said nothing, there was nothing to say – 1/nil said it all. There was also the fact that he no longer had a tongue to speak, to say nothing of the horns!
“Hear me now…!”
Satan slapped them with a case of stink-eye that could wither granite.
“It is imperative that there be no more… DISQUALIFICATIONS!
“Understand this and understands it well…”
“Keep the hostilities on the field!
“All, and I do mean all, aggression is to be directed outside the Arena, at the Duelists… Not, not, NOT…” he waggled a finger at them all, as if shaming naughty children, “…the Halos that guide them.”
The horde inhaled - exhorting a collective… “But, but, but…?”
“Oy vey…” Satan bemoaned their plight.
“I KNOW, I know!
“What’s the point if you can’t have a little fun? Gloating, monologuing. singing our glories, delivering all those delicious tortures and torments,
“…while the weak writhe on their backs, waiting for the final stroke’s fall!
“Da…! We wouldn’t be Devils if we didn’t enjoys it.
“Always kick ‘em when they’re down!!
Now, the Old Man was talking their language. The horde relaxed. There was still a ‘spooksman’ offering a little old fashioned devilry in the modern world. He wouldn’t let them down.
“But no,” the Emperor of Evil quickly cut in, “It’s just not on.”
He felt the mood go cold. Exactly as planned. All part and parcel. Stamping out their last spark of hope* was practically obligatory. He needed soldiers now. machines. Precise and unerringly ruthless. You can really only get that from those who are truly without hope.
“That kind of schtik has cost us more dearly than anything else.
“Like, oh… say, Mephistopheles for example. I’m sure everyone remembers him leaving his Duelist in play? …the opposition hog-tied, apparently secure? Your friend there pops in, all leisurely, strolls over to Berburos, cocky as you please, n’ tells him just how and what tasteless pleasures he’s to inflict next?
“Who here was shocked when Mephisto fell to ash, right before our eyes?
“I venture your man would raise one of his dipole paws, if he could.
“Ain’t that right boychik?”
* (Hope: the most insidious of sins. Ext…)
[After being strangled with the sash from his friary vestments and thrown into an erupting Vesuvius, the remnants of Mephistopheles, the Devil and the Duelist, were swept into an obsidian cauldron.]
The bowl of glowing cinders, ash and teeth, gurgled what sounded like 'Water’ or ‘Hotter’… Who could tell?
“MESHUGA!!” …Satan warbled.
“If it happens that you take a lethal-hit, out there, the game is called and you ‘pop’ back here. Easy peasy.
“But if you’re incipit enough to risk being in both localities at once, you are subject to twofold the affects in both environments. Not ‘mortal’… just not ‘immortal’… and no extra magiks up your bum… or grubby little mercenary helpers hiding in the bushes either. Even Ympes can’t ooze through the cracks.
“You draw on bupkis from home.
“You hear…?
“Bupkis…!
“We use what we’ve got upstairs and what power we carry, curses and hexes, the weapons of the realm. Whatever your influence can conjure…so long as it’s tangibles.
“As has been explained, this is designed to even-out the field. No heavy weights vs straw weights. Once out there, it’s mind-works that makes the difference. So…
“Be sure you’ve the influence to control what you put in play! Balancing a hurricane on a pinhead is all fine and well. You can even schlep it along. But, if you can’t drop it on the target, what’s the point?
Many a moaning Demon began unpacking their kit… their expressions belaying the disappointment at having to quickly rethink their tactics.
“And steer clear from exotics and mythologicals…you know…sentient clouds, banshees, talking reptiles, chimeras and such.
“For once, just keep it simple and get the job done.
“Nothing too flash.
“As a friendly suggestion…
“The loam …or …‘Man’… as it were…
“…has been a particular favorite of the Light for eons,
“…and with good reason.
“They’re fiddly, resourceful, harder to put down than their fragile forms would have you believe. Take a queue!
“Equally important is the nature of the amphitheatre itself.
“The Arena Immortalus is neutral territories, a crossroads, and dominion of the ‘Arbiters’. They tolerate no tom-fooleries what so ever.
“Swirling, unobscured, in a 359º field of view
“…so that all parties can witness, judge and comment…
“…and believe us, they will, whether invited to or otherwise?
“Every twitch and chant will be scrutinized.
“…and don’t give me that look.
“If you were all the masterminds you think you are, we wouldn’t be nuisanced with this incessant overcrowding.
“Assuming your wicked tendencies get the worst of you…?
“…and you just have to deal out some old-fashioned mischiefs…?
“DON’T GET CAUGHT!
“You’ll take full responsibility!
“The Archonti will denounce you quicker than you can say Bob’s your uncle and you’ll not think it so fabulously funny when sharing a bunk with Azâzêl in Dûdâêl.”
Each of Devilkin lived and vacationed in pits of fiery despair. Prison didn’t worry them. Nonplussed, they sniggered at Satan as if to say, “Nice gag!”
Ha-satan pointed a coffin-nail-claw at Azâzêl—the Standard Bearer, the Crafty Worm, First to Be Corrupted and, ‘…cursed to solitary in darkest Dûdâêl.’
Azâzêl waved his 12 wings at the crowd—the 14 faces on his 7 serpent heads gurning delightedly as he picked stale scraps from his fangs, the noxious green vapors of devoured Demons spirits seeping from his pores.
Devilkin shared a collective ‘shiver’.
“Lastly… If you’re called up, think about what you’re doing.
“Sure you’ve all considered it, had plenty of time to dwell and deliver,
“…but, before you send up some bubbling, vicious, ‘BEASTIE’
“…thinking to go in guns blazing,
“…all super-villain like… Have a care!
“The Light may not be right, but it’s certainly not dim.
“You’ll find it can be very bright indeed.
“So let’s put some thought into it, shall we?!”
Passions roused, the horde screamed with a fury unrivalled.
Abaddon snapped his fingers.
Pan’s pipes sounded the ‘Mêlée Dirge’.
…and a spritely Ha-satan bid them, “Mazl everyone…!!"
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This 69 word review has not been unlocked.
It owes a lot to Paradise Lost, but I love your lighter touch. Of course I did not recognize many of your devil characters, but neither did I feel the need to call up Wikipedia either. The exotic names gave your richer character that had a light touch, as if a coach rallying the team with a “what the hell-lets win” attitude on the last game of a losing season. Your read was an entertaining spectacle and I don’t how it could be improved.
this was a great story overall.. it was just confusing to me at some parts!!!
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