“Bah save your complaints, succubus, you’ll have to prove your worth in the first place to be allowed to go,” the Dullahan said, picking up his head and stroking his chin. “I heard that Satan will only take a select few through the portal as he wants only the worthy to accompany him on his crusade.”

“Hmm, but who would be worthy to go? And under what criteria would one choose these few,” pondered the Ghoul, ruminating on a glob of pus that had dripped into his sagging mouth, “It would surely be based on how much benefit one can reap by going. Ooh, or how beautiful they would become by going!”

“Hmph, of course they would base their decision on how much havoc one can reap on the humans,” scoffed the Succubus, glancing disgustedly at the Ghoul.

“Loose me upon a garrison of weary men and I could easily turn them on their own forces…after indulging myself of course.” She chortled and wiped some drool from her mouth.

“No, surely it would be a test of strength.”

“Perhaps a wager of wits?”

“We could just draw lots, right…”

The crowd surged as they fought over the right way to gain their respective places in the Demon Lord’s army. Each gave their own reasons, denying the rest and a resolution was far from reached.

Only when a scuffle almost broke out and the barkeep roared at them to cease their fighting (“or I’ll break off my feet in your ass” – not an idle threat from a demonic centipede bartender) was calm restored to the room.

It was then that they realised they had to have an impartial judge. A neutral eye to pick the cream from the crop.

All gazes turned to a lone Djinn that had been silently watching the kerfuffle from behind his solitary horn of mead.

***

It was an unusual sight for a Djinn to be in Hell, as they were usually between the bounds of heaven and hell. Neither loved nor damned, but simply floating through their endless existence as simply another entity within the wider world.

His presence in Hell was simply an administrative error during a previous campaign where the forces of Hell were driven back by a party of Heroes. He had been swept up by the crowd of escaping demonic refugees and pushed into the nine circles of Hell.

He had been remarkably accepting of this new development, as a result of this administrative error, and had settled down quite well within the demonic community.

Djinn typically were stickler for rules but never really had needs or urges of their own. However, this Djinn in particular did harbour an enjoyment for new experiences and loved to travel. In this new landscape of brimstone, fire and eternal suffering all about him, he found that he didn’t quite mind this turn of events.

Sure it wasn’t the most ideal of places to be. Certainly it wasn’t very convenient to get around what with the pools of molten lava and hellfire, but it did have its charms. The demons were all very welcoming of this newcomer and loved to regale him with their tales of woe and suffrage at the hands of the Gods and the humans.

Accommodation and living expenses were also quite cheap as the demons had to have some benefits in order to endure the eternal torment that God had prescribed them to.

Satan, while he did fight for their rights as citizens of purgatory, only had so much power and could only get them so much. But he was still their hero, a beacon of hope in the endless plains of literal despair. With colleagues and a manager like this, perhaps, the Djinn had shrugged, once we unionise this all might get better.

Now all eyes were on him as the crowd realised they needed a judge, a real stickler for the rules, to adjudicate this selection process and choose the best candidates to lead the forces to victory.