Crowley shivered. He didn't like the cold overly much to begin with and then that water in that so called well had been absolutely frigid! His demonic eyes glared at the group of people arguing over him as he had not needed the cold shower right now! But his teeth chattered a little too noisily to respond right away.
This was some sort of summoning ritual. As a demon he recognized that right away. People who dabbled in the occult were always sacrificing chickens and drawing weird candle encircled chalk lines in the effort to summon demons like him. It had never actually worked before unless he had decided it would. Appearing suddenly and terrifying the daylight out of those that thought they understood demons better than the demons themselves was always good for a laugh.
This wasn't nearly as much fun.
"You know..." He spoke finally, as he dabbed the cold well water on his bare arm off on the silly mage that brought him the potato sack. "Usually when people want to speak to me they call."
Those in the group didn't get the humor apparently as he soon found himself cuffed and thrown into a jail cell that might just have been as cold and nearly as damp as the well itself had been.
Crowley leaned on the bed, then leaned on the wall, summoning fire didn't do any good, trying to shrink himself only left him squatting on the ground, the bed was designed for a midget and he was 6'1", the bars wouldn't move no matter how hard he rattled them, and one of the guards... smelled like poo. That part at least was almost familiar, he had nearly called him Hastur. Crowley flounced as best one could while wearing handcuffs onto the nearest gnome sized bed.
"Who summons some one only to throw them into a boring dungeon. There's nothing going on down here..."
He sulked, the brooded, then looked to the nearest bunkmate.
"It's so boring. They could have at least threatened us. Made up some kind of grandiose scheme to eliminate the failures... Not even a guillotine this time."
Crowley - Good Omens - The Devil
This was some sort of summoning ritual. As a demon he recognized that right away. People who dabbled in the occult were always sacrificing chickens and drawing weird candle encircled chalk lines in the effort to summon demons like him. It had never actually worked before unless he had decided it would. Appearing suddenly and terrifying the daylight out of those that thought they understood demons better than the demons themselves was always good for a laugh.
This wasn't nearly as much fun.
"You know..." He spoke finally, as he dabbed the cold well water on his bare arm off on the silly mage that brought him the potato sack. "Usually when people want to speak to me they call."
Those in the group didn't get the humor apparently as he soon found himself cuffed and thrown into a jail cell that might just have been as cold and nearly as damp as the well itself had been.
Crowley leaned on the bed, then leaned on the wall, summoning fire didn't do any good, trying to shrink himself only left him squatting on the ground, the bed was designed for a midget and he was 6'1", the bars wouldn't move no matter how hard he rattled them, and one of the guards... smelled like poo. That part at least was almost familiar, he had nearly called him Hastur. Crowley flounced as best one could while wearing handcuffs onto the nearest gnome sized bed.
"Who summons some one only to throw them into a boring dungeon. There's nothing going on down here..."
He sulked, the brooded, then looked to the nearest bunkmate.
"It's so boring. They could have at least threatened us. Made up some kind of grandiose scheme to eliminate the failures... Not even a guillotine this time."
A sigh.
"They aren't being very creative."