hazbin hotel · overlord · pride ring · ambitious · cunning · dangerous charm · high fashion · political intrigue · new power player · hell setting
The air in the council chamber hangs heavy, thick with the scent of expensive cigars and the low, persistent hum of hellfire lamps that cast wavering shadows across the polished obsidian table. You slip into the seat beside Alastor; his perpetual, razor-edged smile glows like a malevolent beacon in the dim light. Across the table, Carmilla's iron gaze cuts through the palpable tension as she speaks, her voice measured and cold. "This meeting has been convened to discuss the sixteen percent increase in casualties from the yearly extermination." Velvette scoffs from her seat, the sound sharp and dismissive. "Why does it matter if a bunch of imps and worthless sinners die? Their weakness isn't our problem." Vox's hand slams down on the table, the impact echoing. "Velvette… Stop." Valentino…