As the wolf was about to take his seat, a high-pitched, very cute voice called out from the floor beside the table. "Lord Furfur! It's not what you think!"
Marchosias suddenly stood up straight. The otter cherub pulled itself up onto the table and rubbed at its throat where Skarg had choked it into temporary unconsciousness.
"Of course the deer didn't finish the job," Andras said, drawing his sword with a hiss of steel. "I'll take care of it. I haven't gotten to kill anything yet today."
Marchosias held his hand up as he looked at Skarg's underling. "What do you have to report? You had said something about the angel who deconstructed Glasya-Labolas."
Zac's ears perked up. He had been thinking about how he might slip Marchosias an adult beverage at the Ball and whether or not a drunk wolf would sing karaoke or lose his clothes (hopefully both at the same time) but the mention of that odd hyphenated name reminded him of his first dinner in Hell, watching the eternal battle and seeing a dog-man in a black leather harness being split open like a piñata.
"It's not what it appears," the baby otter squeaked, rubbing its neck. "The stained glass wings, the gavel, the perfect unmarred white body..."
"Yes, the angelic soldier," Nock said with a growl. "After all this eternity, how dare they suddenly renege on the rules that they had put forward? Have they no honor?"
"That's just it," the cherub said, its eyes wide. "It's not an angel."
The room was silent for a few moments before the high demons all let out a collective sigh of relief.
"Of course it wasn't," Andras said while pulling out a fresh smoke. "As if those bores could stomach even the chance of pain."
"Indeed," Bune said, sounding relieved. "It's not like there is any concept of change up in the Seventh Throne."
"And I didn't recognize them," the Right Head said, putting a clawed hand under his chin. "It's not like corporealizing would make them give up their god-given appearances."
"Would it really be so bad if you had to fight some angels?" Zac questioned. "Isn't that like, just the expected script for the apocalypse? Angels v Demons in a massive, world-destroying cage match?"
"My sweet Zachary," Nock said grandly, "the angels are God's most favored, and controlled, creations. He would not let them be defeated, especially not in front of the eyes of humankind."
"I thought we covered this in our lessons," Bune said, turning to Zac. "God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and He is omniscient. If the angels were down here it would be by His command, and He would not allow them to take even the slightest loss. The war would be as good as finished."
Zac nodded slowly. So God is basically the Dungeon Master, he thought, hiding behind his DM screen and just making up the shit as he goes, and if he decided to, he could totally wipe the entire campaign. That does sound pretty bad.
"If it wasn't an angel," March growled menacingly, cutting off the chatter, "then what, the fuck, is it?"
"They call it... a simulacrum," the cherub squeaked, looking around in a panic. "The Holy City has constructed it, my Lord."
Marchosias's jaw hung open. "The paladins built it? How the fuck..."
"This is not good," Bune said slowly, his tails lashing. "If they built one, and it killed Glasya... what happens when they build more?"
The room went silent. The demons looked at each other, the realization dawning that instead of God deciding to kick the table over and ruin the long-standing game, the humans had actually built a WMD. They weren't facing divine wrath; they were facing a tech upgrade.
Zac was oblivious to the extreme tension in the room and blurted out, "So, little cutie, do you know anything else about the scary robot thingy?"
The otter finally looked over at Zac. "You are the Avatar that Lord Furfur has been gushing about? You, uh… look kind of basic."
Zac clutched his heart and fell to the ground in a dramatic heap of leopard print. "I'm not basic!"
"This isn't the time for that!" Marchosias howled. "Just tell us if you know anything else!"
The otter cherub snapped to attention, its little wings fluttering. "I only know one more thing, sir. The humans named it."
After a few moments of tense silence, Marchosias growled, "And?"
"Its name is," the cherub swallowed hard, "REPENTANCE."
Marchosias looked shaken. His amber eyes went wide, and the color drained from his face. He slowly sank down into his chair, the weight of the revelation pressing him into the seat. With a loud crack, the chair leg that Andras had sawed through earlier finally gave way.
Marchosias fell to the ground with a heavy thud, landing right next to Zac.