Day 198:
Infiltration is complete.
I sit on a throne now. The throne of a demon that went by the name
Shakula'methu. A demon that I know closely by the name of
Crim.
He has attendants, did you know?
There was someone sitting on the throne when I had walked in; they threw themselves off in fear. Apparently, until some proof of his death was recovered, there would only be an demon
acting in his position; not actually in his position.
I would say that I was wearing a disguise, but my skin has essentially become his skin. I am as close to a perfect replica as can be.
I even included some new scars. Some new wounds that had to be treated. Some new muscles.
It's a little bit strange just how much control I've attained over my appearance. It seems like I can do a great many things to myself now, if it's within an "acceptable range" of the form I'm looking to achieve.
I'm fooling all my servants, and for now, that's good enough.
I'll settle in. They keep bringing me mutton and wine.
This could actually be a fairly good life. Kill some people, eat, drink, and have some servants attend to me.
In a joking matter, I write that of course.
One of the next things I saw disgusted the hell out of me.
After I had finished eating, some of my servants disappeared for a few minutes and returned with something I did not expect.
Two things, actually. One was a suit of battle armor, as a gift for my return. It would have gone to the demon acting in my position if I did not return soon and he took my place.
The second...
A group of slaves. Tied, shackled. Naked, of course.
Those hollow eyes I've seen too many times before.
Some women, some men. Most very young. Some were probably even younger than me.
They quivered as they saw me.
Apparently, this was my "usual choice" of people.
As they were released, and I sat on my throne, they one by one came up to me and began to touch me. Some stroked me. Some latched onto my arms and placed my hands on their breasts.
One of them reached down between my legs.
I was actually curious ever since I had taken this form...
But I digress; she placed her head there next and did things that I would have never even thought about doing with Nashmeira. They were all scared.
What could I do without blowing my cover?
So I went along with it, and ended up in a massive orgy with them by the end of it.
The servants, at least, left me be to my own privacy after some time.
They took the slaves away after I was done. There was more mutton and wine, and I retired to my inner quarters.
They left one slave, an elvaan woman, and she's passed out on a rug made from the skin of a tiger. There are guards outside my door, attendants to my every need.
And my need now is privacy, and so I can write now.
I had to transform my arm back to its humanoid form to do this; this is a risk, but it's one I'm willing to take. I feel as though if I don't finish these chronicles, I will lose my mind before I can see it through.