Beelzebub

WOTD 08/03 His large, crooked body shifted across the light his long talons slapped on the stone ground, and a puff of acrid air oozed from his nostrils. He bullshitted constantly. No matter how powerful he was, it didn’t mean he lavished himself in common sense. To Baal, he was just as wild-minded as T’Chezz had been, the only differences being that Beelzebub had confidence and feared no one. Sometimes he even thought the smooth-talking demon lacked the common sense to fear Lucifer.

He and Baal talk. "I knew if I teamed up with you, I’d end up with something in the ass. I mean that both figuratively and literally. You are not known to be the most trustworthy of demons.”

Beelzebub, although he was a hermit of sorts, was highly respected within the confines of hell. He had the master’s ear and the rest of the demons by the ballsack. Baal wasn’t low man on the totem pole either, but he tended to work his magic in the background. His distaste for Beelzebub came from centuries of listening to him downplay his importance and abilities, only to step into situations when he wasn’t needed, take credit for other demons’ work, and bask in unearned glory. He had overstepped throughout history, but until a few centuries ago no one, not even Lucifer, had stood up to him. Of course, Lucifer didn’t react out of fear; more brainwashing than anything else. Beelzebub was a smooth talker. He could sell lava to a hell-bound demon. He had played Lucifer, and the worst part was that Lucifer had no idea. He was oblivious to the chaos the demon had brought to the council and the eyes the smooth talker had for his throne. Beelzebub had always had desires far beyond his grasp.

Beelzebub was smooth, and despite his drop in favor, he was still extraordinarily powerful. The demons feared him more than any other hell-denizen besides Lucifer, and even Baal felt nervous being alone with him in the caves. It wasn’t his size or even his demeanor. It was the underhanded ideas he had. It was his willingness to stab you in the back and leave you to take the fall for his mistakes. It was the competitiveness that glowed brighter than the demon-red in his eyes. There was little he could be trusted with, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make his dreams a reality.