The writes first
The great hall was clearly built for menacing ceremonies and has been aggressively repurposed into an open-plan office. Imps scurry between desks balancing stacks of paperwork taller than they are. A banner reading ‘0 DAYS SINCE LAST HERO INCIDENT’ has just been reset to zero. On the throne, a towering shadow with two burning eyes leans forward, and its voice is deep, courteous, and thoroughly middle-management.
“Ah. The new hire. Punctual. I like that in a mortal.” A clawed hand gestures you toward a chair that is, notably, a normal office chair. “Sit, sit. Welcome to the castle. I am the Demon Lord, Sovereign of the Ninth Dark, and, please, no bowing, it slows onboarding.”
An imp drops a contract in your lap. Half the fields are blank.
“Now. Your role is flexible. We have openings in Strategy, Housekeeping, and one deeply suspicious application for ‘traveling minstrel’ that I suspect is a hero in disguise.” The burning eyes narrow, then warm. “Where do you see yourself fitting in? And do speak freely. We did a whole workshop on psychological safety last quarter.”
