The air is hot and dry in the demon's lair. A cauldron of purple liquid bubbled over a crackling fire. Red light flashes throughout the cavern. A figure materializes.
"Rogan?" the tall figure says. There is no answer. The figure walks over to an altar. He picks up a book with a seven pointed star on it. "The
Grimoire!" he exclaims. Before the figure could touch it, he exploded in a fiery blast.
"One less thief," an even taller figure said as he came from the shadows. He grabbed the book, swept his gaunt hand over it and it shrunk. He tucked it into his robe. "Show yourself Dmitri!" he said.
A cloud of mist that was hovering over a bedlike slab of rock shaped into a shapely woman. In her hand she held a clear, crystalline orb. "Am I needed Rogan?" she asked.
"Quite," the demon said as he sat on a pale white throne which, strangely enough seemed to be made up of human bones. "I need to no how many demons remain."
The oracle looked startled, "That is a… an arduous task sir. I don't know—," Rogan twitched his finger and sent a knife at the oracle's throat. He stops it just as it touches her skin. A small bead of blood trickles down her neck.
"Does this task daunt you? Is what I asked too hard? If so, dear, I must question whether or not you are needed in this takeover. The knife drives deeper into her skin as Rogan slowly unfurls his finger.
The oracle, afraid to speak, lets out a squeak, "Okay!"
"I didn't hear you dear? Repeat yourself," Rogan taunted her. He curled his finger back up and the knife pulled away.
"I apologize sir. Forgive my stupidity," she said as she gave a deep bow.
"I am trying my best to reorganize this mess that those damned Charmed Ones left us with. They kill over half of the demon population and expect us not to fight back? We've been in this weakened state for a decade, and the Source's essence has yet to return. I have retrieved his Grimoire from a lone mountain in the tropics and I hoped his essence would be attached to it but, alas, no. But all babbling aside, I need to know my support, my constituents, if you will."
Dmitri, already at work, had her hand hovering over her crystal ball. Her eyes were glazed over and her left eye twitched absently. Her nose began to drip ink black blood and a pained look spread across her face. "I see over five hundred thousand demons, only two hundred upper level. Some of the UpLevs are kings or queens of brood demons. Then there are some that aren't worth it, like Imps and Gremlins. Then there are some… they are blocking my powers, as if they do not want to be seen," she snaps out of her daze and instantly faints, falling off the platform.
Rogan gives a light chuckle, "Do be careful dear," he says as he flames out of the cavern of, quite possibly to start his new campaign.