Summoned

Urug stares down at the lithe mage who had summoned him from the Place Beyond Places. Metallic dust had been set into an intricate circle and he’d roared out some incantations—a bit over-the-top in delivery, in Urug’s opinion. The next moment he’d found himself here: A dingy apartment with ancient shag carpet, a bunk bed whose lower mattress was now occupied by a number of dirty clothes, and a kitchen he didn’t even want to cast his gaze towards. Something was moving, he could swear.

That didn’t even count the greasy-headed kid before him. A pock-marked white face stares up with needy, power-hungry eyes subsumed with black ichor for his dark art. In his hands are a bloody knife and a poor sparrow whose life had been shorn by the cruel being. He was muttering something, and the dazed demon bends his two-meter frame downwards, muscle conforming elegantly along his skin-held fur. The boy’s gaze falls as he gazes upon the true might of the summoned creature.

“I-I am Kevin!” A shaky, unsure voice croaks from the throat of the spotty male. “You shall heed my command!” His voice cracked midway through this burst of confidence. Which is soon re-burst as the demon’s massive hand finds itself clenching tightly around Kevin’s throat. He drops the bird and knife—the latter with a clatter—and finds himself paling further. Two great horns flank an angular face which looks furious, even at rest. His nose is upturned not unlike the snout of a pig, but the wide shape of his bridge up to his powerful, thoughtful brow gives a distinguished tone to his overall appearance.

Tusk-and-tooth filled lips open. Kevin blinks rapidly as the overpowering smell of mint radiates from the creature’s pearl-white teeth. His nostrils flare as he takes in the scent. Desperation, sweat, fear, chronic masturbation all reeked from his emaciated form. Urug didn’t even want to sully his claws by touching the man further. He lets go.

“The bird isn’t part of the spell.” Urug finally growled, his tone sombre and low as if to project the weight of his experience and vast age.

“Wh-what?” Kevin stammered back. Urug points toward the innocent creature.

“I’m going to assume that you are ubiquitous to most mages: Desperate to gain control over the uncontrollable. Step on the weak to achieve power; kill the bird to gain a demonic pet, yes?”

“M-man, I just wanted t-to get revenge on this guy, man, I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” His voice began to pick up in panic, his eyes swelling with tears.

“Nature reclaims her power through her humble servants. Do you even know what you have summoned? Are you so blind as to fall prey to the facsimile of knowledge and the aesthetic of occult as presented to you by a commercial hand-out!?” His eyes are wide as emotion floods the massive creature, his chest beginning to swell. He points towards a ripped poster held up by 3 remaining tacks, depicting a stereotypical male demon holding a limp woman in his arms. His rage began to fade as the human stared up at him with pitiful eyes. Urug’s massive form remains looming, furious over Kevin, still as can be like a panther about to leap upon its quarry--

And he exhales.

“You’re a symptom of a cause.” Urug lifts the bird in one massive hand. He mutters something that the Abrahamic faiths would decry as forbidden. Yet the bird’s little form begins to flit about. The blood in its feathers seep back into a jagged wound which knits like no other. “Do not kill this bird.” Urug snarls int the man’s face. “You shall be her servant and see to her, to the end of her days. She is greatly intelligent from that brief journey to the Beyond, for even a glimpse into the confounding simplicity of the universe gives one unearthly knowing.”

The bird flies from his hand and rests itself on the back of a worn and rotten chair. Kevin, at this point, is utterly confused. Urug sets his jaw to the side, gazing thoughtfully at the pathetic lump now quivering before his cloven feet. Urug’s ox-tail flicks errantly, knocking aside several glasses and a lamp without so much as a care. He ambles forward, his hooves crunching—ew--down upon the shag carpet as he reaches for the door. The tiny knob wrenches off between his thumb and forefinger. Shrugging, he tosses it to the side, pulling open the door.

“WAIT!” Kevin barks, the hulking body half-knelt in the doorway freezing in place. “What… how would you go out there?! I didn’t even know that w-would work, man...” He pushes slowly up to his feet.

“That’s a shockingly compassionate question for an attempted slave-owner of interplanar entities.” He braces himself with one clawed hand upon the doorframe. Kevin’s shock subsides enough for him to wince, as the gentlest of pressure with Urug’s sharp claws leaves massive gashes in the wall and in the security deposit. Dad wouldn’t be happy about that, Kevin muses. Urug continues to say, “What have I to fear, human?”

“Military… bullets… surveillance… mobs...” His hunched frame pushing to his feet, knees trembling and threatening to fail. “Man, I don’t know if you’re prepared--”

“I was last awoken in World War 2. How far has technology progressed?”

“I… I don’t even know when that is--”

“Of course you don’t. It is no matter. My sorcery is far greater than the concerns of mere toys and trinkets. Though, believe me, I do not say this lightly.” His hand tightens against the . “I pale in comparison to the beings on my world. Though...” He lifts his head to a far window at the end of the apartment hall, in blatant ignorance of a young woman ascending the stairs whom, upon seeing the creature, threw down her groceries and ran screaming out the building. Into that smoggy, gray sky, Urug muses, where glass and iron skyscrapers thrust boldly upward. The influence of phallic imagery, even in 100 years, had not changed.

“Pathetic Kevin,” Booms Urug, his voice sending enough force that he hears his knock-kneed summoner clatter nervously into a stack of boxes. “Shape up. I will return in a month hence, and should I see more dead animals, I will further carry out my duties as a guardian of this world.”

“Guardian?” Is squeaked behind him. Urug has to hold himself back from sighing audibly as he continues, “Aren’t demons supposed to possess or, like… kill? Or give dark powers?”

“Little boy,” Urug pushes past the door frame, his hooves thudding down against hardwood in ominous tones, low bells foretelling his descent down the stairwell. Loud and wailing noises—he could only presume to be sirens—begin to echo outside, but he continues. I cannot give into my fear, Urug thinks, inhaling deeply and lifting his head. I must awaken the others. Urug’s massive hands grip the wrought iron handles of a peeling white double-door. He pulls the doors open.