Evil is exhausting work. When you get right down to it, you've got to put in a ton of effort., and everyone is basically working for their own agenda because - hello! - they're evil! That means they're self centred, think their way is the right way, and don't especially care how they get there or who has to get hurt in the process.
Such people don't tend to work together very well, you know?
"And I'm telling you, we need to maintain our magical traps more than we need your pointy weapons."
"Those pointy weapons are more reliable than your traps any day."
"Surely we should focus on pushing out instead of being defensive...?"
Here we have the three immediate subordinates of the Demon King Mitros. They had served him back in the days of myth and legend. Each had ruled a part of the kingdom and held one of the three keys to the Mitros Castle. Currently they were all sitting at a table arguing and bickering with one another.
First, we have the Dark Elf Sebastien, wearing a cloak to cover his head despite being indoors, their master of magic. When Mitros had razed the kingdom he had been given domion over the Elvish lands, warping the forest in his experiences. He had ended up shot in the head by Lady Roux after Joint disabled his previously impentrable magical shield with the Star Blade.
Lastly, Ariadne, an enormous spider sitting in a web hanging over the table, staring out at them through her countless eyes. She had been given domnion over Mt. Heatgrasp. Keeping the populace in line with threats of erruption. But Joint turned the mountain's flames against her and burnt her and all her spawn to a crisp."
This trio were the mightiest of monsters to stalk the land. Through sheer magical knowledge, Sebastien could make an army tremble in fear. Through his raw strength and battle prowess, Warthag could make a dragon bow. While Ariadne, through her mastery of webs and countless children to rely upon, was able to tangle with either one of them on equal footing.
Yet here they were, arguing about the budget. Each of them had their own ideas about what they should be doing, each of them had their own notion about the direction their army should build, where their priorities would lie and, naturally, each of their preferences would leave them the most in charge of everything.
"Then what should we do about the inevitable human hero coming to stop us?" Sebastien asked. "No doubt they are aware of our plans to some extent, and will be preparing a descendant of the last hero to come and challenge us."
"We meet him on the field of battle and take him down in honourable single combat," Warthog grunted.
"No, I say we lay a web upon a path he is sure to travel down, and then have him eaten alive by thousands of tiny mouths while he lays trapped and unable to fight back," Ariadne tittered.
"Or I could rain fireballs on whatever settlement he's staying in, constantly, until nowhere wants to support him anymore," Sebastien said. "Come now, resources matter. Let's be smart about this."
"Yes, let's."
All three of them immediately jumped to attention upon hearing that voice. A new figure entered the room, clad in darkness, the only thing visible a pair of glowing demonic eyes. This was Mitros, the Demon Lord, who was absolutely not putting up with any of their nonsense.
"You are right to be concerned about the hero coming to stop us," Mitros said, striding around the table with an air of absolute confidence, and a distinct lack of sense of humour. "Preparations are vital. We must be ready for his inevitable arrival."
"Yes, my Lord!" all three of them said, snapping even harder to attention.
"Relax, my Generals. Do relax, that cannot be good for your postures..." Mitros sighed. "One factor you are all forgetting is this: We do not know the hero's capabilities."
"I could send minions to spy on him!" Ariadne volunteered.
"I could scry on him!" Sebastien offered.
"I could... Find him in a bar and drink him under the table, that would get me to know him quite well!" Warthag said.
"Fools," Mitros scowled. "You would expose yourselves to him so readily, when you do not know what precautions he might have? Scrying directly on him opens up the chance that he may scry on you! Send out minions to spy, and he may squash them! As for drinking him under the table, you do not know his alcohol level tolerance, he might well drink you under instead!"
Worth noting there that Mitros didn't point out the blatant absurdity regarding that plan anyway.
"Instead, here is what we'll do." Mitros tossed three sheets of paper down onto the table. "These three are idiots. I believe in making good use of all our resources, even our idiots. To that end, we shall be sending these three idiots on a mission to confront the hero."
"These... idiots?" Warthag asked. "Pardon me sir, but I do not understand your reasoning."
"It's not hard, or complicated," Mitros said. "We give them items to allow us to scry on them and watch what happens when they confront the hero. Either they somehow manage to kill the hero, or they fail miserably. If they fail, we get an idea of what the hero is capable of and how they fight. This will give us information we can use to plan accordingly. It is a simple win/win situation."
This is where evil is at its most dangerous. When someone evil has the foresight to realise the best way to achieve their own personal goals is to get other evil people to cooperate with them. Leads them, unites them, makes them understand the best way for them to get power is to play ball. This is why Mitros was a being to be feared. He unites those who should not be united, and if he should reach full power anytime soon, then the whole world would surely tremble.
=====
On the other end of the competency scale, we have our trio of incompetent idiots. They were, in turn, a Slimegirl called Slimey, a Siren called Siren, and a Lamia called Lamia. No, they didn't have especially imaginative names, but that's really down to them more than anything else.
"Oh my gosh, Siren! So good to see you again!" Slimey tittered away, oozing along the floor until she embraced the winged woman in a sloppy mess of a hug. "So? So? How's the singing career going?"
"You know, the usual," Siren chirped. "On opening night the entire audience dashed themselves on the rocks. How about you? Is that diet treating you well?"
"Ahhh, I've not been able to eat any human men yet, so it's been a total bust so far," Slimey said. "Say, were there any cute guys in that audience? Or...?"
"Nah, they all got swept into the ocean before I could check them out," Siren sighed. "Oh gosh, Lamia too? Wow, the gang's all together again!"
"D-Don't pay me any attention!" Lamia begged off, trying to hide herself with her tail. This was quite the attempt, it must be said, for Lamia is a fairly busty lass who towered over the other two. "Ohhhh, you know how much I can't stand being the centre of attention! I'm not here. Please don't look at me!"
"Awww, but you're sooooo cute! I just wanna eat you up!" Slimey tittered, licking her lips and making advancing moves over towards her as if she intended to make an attempt at that right here and now -
"That's quite enough, the three of you!" a voice boomed out. Oh! It was the Demon Lord himself! "Listen very carefully. You see those stones on the table? I want you to swallow them. Right now." They stared at the stones. Siren lifted her arm into the air. "Yes?"
"I'd much rather have sauteed flesh from man or beast served with -"
"Eat the damned stones, I'm not in the mood for hijinks." Then again, he never was in the mood for hijinks. The three of them gulped, then took the stones and gulped again. If you listened carefully you could hear them clang on their way down into their stomachs. "Slimey, it looks like it phased through your body."
"Um, yeah, I only retain biological matter," Slimey said.
"Which you promptly digest, yes?"
Slimey rubbed her belly and made yum yum noises. This was the problem with those three. The airheaded glutton, the scatterbrained diva, and the perpetually shy powerhouse
"Make an effort to retain it. It is vital that you do not lose it. Am I understood?"
"Um, okay, but it's gonna give me indigestion. Maybe if Lamia gave me one of her scales..."
"I'm not here, I'm not here, I'm not here..."
The shadows in the room grew a shade darker. That was quite enough of that.
"I want you to find the hero's descendant and try your best to kill them," the Demon Lord ordered. "Do not return until you have his head or his heart ready to serve to me. Now, go!"
The trio slithered out into the wider world, and as he watched them go, the mighty Mitros took a deep breath. "Maybe this plan wasn't as clever as I thought it was...?" he pondered aloud.
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