Of Demons & Witches [Historical]
These were trying times, indeed. Times full of distrust and hate and fear. Children were kept off the streets as soon as the sun began to set. Everyone watched everyone else. You had to be wary of all you knew because only God knew what would happen if you whispered the wrong thing to the wrong person. Witches were burned and hanged and drowned. Innocent women, tortured four days and weeks so that they would confess. Often enough they confessed to lies just to make it all stop, just to die. These were bitter, terrible times.
--But not for him!
Amduscias was as busy as he had been during Solomon. The name still left a bitter taste on his tongue but what was done was done. The archdemon had recently built himself a little cult. Young women, deviant and rebellious as they always were, worshiped him in the woods, high on drugs and his music. It was Dionysian! And the Great King reveled in the attention he received. Not to mention how often people wished to strike up deals with him lately. It seemed the opposition was not any less radical than the persecutors. It was quite wonderful to witness.
It was no surprise to him when soon after his arrival on earth (he had errands to run) he felt the familiar pleading tug of a summoning. Amduscias turned his head just slightly to see who was calling for him. It was no one he knew, the energy output was a different one. But well enough. His obligations could wait another couple of minutes.
--The arrival of a demon was not necessarily a subtle thing if they did not wish it to be. Amduscias had never been one of the subtle sort. Within the circle that had been drawn for him he crashed like thunder and lightning, drawing shadows towards him. The ground seemed to shift around him, cracking and shivering as he composed himself.
The next thing was music. It was thick and dissonant, something that could chase every dog behind the oven. It was loud and merciless in its obtrusiveness, cutting through the thickening atmosphere like a blade. Drums rolled, cymbals clashed, and violins howled in an unholy symphony, something feral and hateful growling underneath. And there he stood.
Amduscias' hair was silver and long, a mess of tangles that spilled over his shoulders and framed his sharp pale features. Eyes as black as coal peered out of his face like holes cut into a death mask. He was a tall figure, clad in black and green. He looked human enough but nothing else about him seemed to fit the part.
"You called?" He drawled once he spotted the woman before him, hinting at a bow.
