She Got Them Supple Demon Wings, Hooves With the Fur
Posted on Sun Oct 16th, 2022 @ 5:42am by Astaroth/Lily-Mae Arnett
Mission:
Daemoniacus Tribulatio
Location: Silverados of Rivergate
Astaroth grumbled as they cracked the neck of their meat suit as she sauntered, having traded in the frumpy clothing of Lily-Mae Arnett for heavy, if well done, make-up and clothes that were far too revealing and sexualized for a woman of that age. Not that the demon really cared, for they were all about making drama and trouble, so it would work well enough. It hadn't taken much effort to suss out that this "Silverados" establishment was a low class honky tonk with a reputation for drama, which was right up their alley. After all, as the Goddess Astarte, the demon had been equated with Venus and Aphrodite and was rather adept at arousing lust, but also, as Astaroth they were known to prey on insecurities. This place sounded perfect: a low class white trash honky tonk. They could already taste it in the air.
It didn't take long to work through the line and past the bouncers. Ladies night meant no cover due to the meat suit and free drinks, not that the demon could really get drunk, but at least they wouldn't need money to be able to fit in. Looking around she had to figure out where to start. A closet case in an unhappy relationship with a woman. A homewrecker over there who preferred to pursue married men. A complete dog of a man who viewed women as toys. A very uncomfortable group having a hen party where the bride wasn't enthused with the husband, her drug-addicted gay bestie, and a few other hangers-on that hung around solely to feel better about themselves. So many opportunities to push or pull for drama and new souls damning themselves to hell.
They were getting quite excited to see what chaos could be caused. The demon sauntered up to the bar and got herself something called a "wet pussy" cocktail. Just a little bit of influence and the powder keg would explode, considering the usual problems of the patrons of this kind of establishment. They moved off onto the dance floor to begin working the subtle infernal magic needed. Perhaps a bit of good ole' Romans 1:26-27 coupled with some Leviticus 20:13 for good measure from the more unstabled breeders would work out nicely. They might even be able to get in a good murder or two. And oh, Mr. Drug Addicted Gay Bestie seemed to be a were-buzzard of all things.
Three hours later, the first punch was thrown by an insecure redneck the gay bestie had been goaded into hitting on. The counter punch sent the redneck flying into the closet case and a different redneck who'd been bewitched to be receptive. This seemed to be the cue for general pandemonium to break out, as an annoyed wife snatched homewrecker up by the hair, and a general brawl erupted. The demon couldn't help but cackle at the looks of confusion on the faces of the pathetic overweight rent-a-cops the bar called bouncers as they seemed to try and figure out what to do. One of them seemed to work up the nerve to try and separate the women, and ended up with a bleeding rake of nails across the face, while the other pulled a taser on the brawling sodomites, three-beer queers, and the homophobes. Unfortunately for him, tasing a were-creature wasn't very effective and got him a broken wrist for his trouble.
The demon reached over the bar and helped itself to the ingredients of another one of the vulgarly named drink she'd started the night with. It tasted reasonably good and the bartender had had sufficient wherewithal to retreat into a room with a lock and calling the police on a cell phone. Of course, with her enhanced hearing, she could hear the dispatcher telling him it would be at least 10 minutes which would be plenty of time for things to play out and the cops would only get there at the end. Astaroth gave an evil cackles, which apparently didn't go over well with someone who attempted to lay hands on her. Not that the demon actually felt it, but they did toss the idiot for the trouble, with a sickening crash and crunch on impact with the concrete wall.
That seemed like a good time for her to make her escape, as driven home by the fact that someone seemed to have remembered that Tennessee was a constitutional carry state. She didn't want to test what would happen if her meat suit if it became riddled with bullets. Normally, they wouldn't be that worried about it, but with the soul of the meat suit still wandering the Earth, somewhere which seemingly prevented them from accessing the full breadth of their infernal powers. She cleared herself a path out of the club.
