Demons from all walks of life crawled amongst the tattered books and overturned tables. Some shifted through piles of magical tomes and volumes, flipping through the pages for a moment before discarding each one into a separate bin. Others flung potion bottles against the wall, and recording the results after setting a copy aside for further testing. The potion-testing demons and the book-checking demons wore identical scowls, and grumbled occasionally on the time-consuming aspect of their work.
A larger demon who had ending up studying chosen books nudged the demon beside him. The smaller demon yelped, and peered shakily at the looming figure next to him.
"So," he rumbled, and flipped another delicate page roughly, " why are you stuck here, working for some crackpot whitelighter—"
A hand slammed down on the passage that the demon had been "reading" (in fact, he had been illiterate, so whoever had organized the jobs didn't do their research).
"Klast," Wyatt asked threatening, "do you have anything to say?"
"No, my Lord."
"Oh, all well." Wyatt's eyes glittered dangerously, and the smaller demon cringed.
Klast exploded as the Dark Lord waved his hand with a silly grin.
"I love when I do that," he muttered happily to no one in particular.
Wyatt glanced around, and noticed that his demon minions had ceased to work. Rather, they were staring at him with morbid fascination.
"What are you waiting for?" Wyatt exclaimed, "I want that spell found. It's the only way I can get the future to retrieve my brother."
With minimal grumbling, the demons returned to their work, and Wyatt orbed out.
In the Underworld (still future)…Wyatt orbed in just in time to see two demons inspecting a throne that was placed in the center of the cavern.
"You two, state your name and purpose," Wyatt demanded. The two demons whirled around and held up fireballs.
"We don't serve you, Wyatt," they said with distain.
The Twice-Blessed looked at the two with mild curiosity. It wasn't often that he was shown direct resistance by demons. He knew that all of them detested him, and he did not actually care, but he never had known one to say if to his face.
"Then whom do you serve?" he asked soothingly, trying to work the demons into a false sense of security while he received information.
However, they again surprised him. The two demons held their positions, and refused to speak to him. The fire in their hands still burned brightly in the dim of the cavern.
"Answer me!" he demanded, and electricity coiled around his arms. The demons did not so much as blink.
"Why, you…" he shot blue lightning at them, but they hurled themselves over at tombstones. But the larger of the two leapt up, and made a run for the strong, oak door several yards away. Wyatt turned his attention to him, and gestured to blow him up. The demon once again dodged, but Wyatt was too concerned with the blaring alarm to notice. He swiveled his head over to the demon who stayed behind, and saw that his hand held a glowing crystal.
He had been tricked; the larger demon was only a distraction, to allow the other one to pull the alarm, so to speak.
"Who are you!" he bellowed in rage, as about twenty other demons enter the room and quickly surrounded him. Several were armed with energy balls, and that did not worry him; but other were armed with various pointed objects, ad well as flames and potion vials containing deep-green colored liquid.
"Don't move," a new, large demon with green, scaly skin and horns lopping over his head growled with a deep, menacing voice, "the potions destroy your shield, leaving you vulnerable."
"You're bluffing," Wyatt spat.
"We may be," another demon said, "but the question is: can you afford to find out?"