It was a good day, the (relatively) young demon thought to himself, to be Laharl, soon to be the undisputed ruler of the Netherworld. And as he just so happened to be said individual, that made him quite pleased with himself, indeed. He had laid his cunning trap, and soon all of those foolish pretenders to the throne would be swept aside like (and here adjectives failed him) the foolish pretenders to the throne that they were.
He had, however, a slight problem. Nothing major, just...
"Where are all of my Vassals?"
The only ones still around, aside from his army of faceless minions, were the cunning and ever so slightly treacherous Etna and... ugh... the Love Freak. A quick glance at his aforementioned remaining vassals wasn't particularly helpful - Flonne was giving him a delicate little shrug. "Not a clue, Prince." Etna chimed in.
Well, that was just terrific. The Kings Guard had all vanished; Gargo, Dratti, Goleck and Manty weren't in the throne room at the very least and he was willing to bet that Ghoss and Zommie weren't around either. Most probably it had something to do with his Brilliant Plan, the challenge for the non-existent 'Deed of the Overlordship.' Ah well, if it came down to it, he'd show those slackers what for anyway.
"Bah! Who cares about those fools anyway?" He asked rhetorically. Had there only been demons present, at the very least none would have dared to disagree. After all, he was the Overlord, and what he said went. The above, however, was not the case and Flonne, cheerfully naive, raised her hand hand energetically. Laharl studiously ignored her. "Heh. Just like I thought." The soon-to-be-Overlord smirked.
He barely caught Etna wheedling Flonne, but since he was a demon the signs of internal strife merely amused him. He grinned slightly, then unleashed a mighty laugh. "Enough standing around, let's get to work!"
Taking a moment to summon up his own headwind, he strode boldly down from his throne, not waiting for his minions to fall in, and marched towards the door, leaving a rapidly growing expanse of red-carpet between himself and the seat of his rule. Just outside of the guardroom, however, his march to victory was slightly stalled by a couple of loud bangs, the sound of rattling chain, and something thumping audibly onto a cold, hard stone-floor.
"... what the hell?" He muttered, before striding forward to find out who or what had dared to interrupt his prelude to gloating. Dangling from the ceiling, the chandelier wobbled wildly from whatever had hit it, and he swore he could see a vaguely person shaped imprint in the roof. A very deep, vaguely person shaped imprint in the roof. "Uh... huh."
"Hey, looks like we have intruders, Prince!" Etna piped in cheerfully.
"Oh, I hope they're alright!" Fretted Flonne as she began to step forward.
"... pfft! Whatever, Love Freak."
Laharl stalked forward, flanked on either side by his vassals, and peered down in the pit taking up the majority of the room. The lance, Longinus, didn't even look like he had so much as wobbled during the crash, which must have been pretty impressive considering the crater plowed into the ceiling. For a moment, as he looked down at the pile-o-person at the base, he felt a most unbecoming urge to leap down and render assistance.
Then, he could see that the pile was moving, and the urge faded. Of course by that time Flonne was already halfway down the stairs. Great. And did Longinus just greet whoever it was? Oh, perfect. This would do wonders for his reputation if it got out.
Deciding to bring the situation back under his control (and perhaps to keep the Angel-Trainee from getting hurt) he bellowed, with all of his majestic potency, "WHO GOES THERE?"
At his voice, Flonne screeched to a halt, as the dust cleared, revealing...
(Posted Sun, 30 Apr 2006 23:47)
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