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[EOR]
[BOC]
   The clouds scudded across a full moon, and the trees no longer bore their leaves. The howling wind cut anyone foolish enough to be out to the bone. Yet, there stood a single figure, clad in dark robes with a bonfire before them. The person was young, barely twenty years old, named Elle. That night was special, it was the night that this Elle was to complete the final step of her initiation. 
  She clasped an old, time-worn book in her hands and stepped towards the fire. The hooded woman quickly glanced over the smudged symbols and runes and began to chant, 
  "Oh mighty lord, with fire and agony you fell into your hellish pit. 
Cast away by those who you once called your brethren, you were sent to an eternity of torture. But your time is coming! Your army shall be the best, fashioned to take on the heavens and claim what is rightfully yours!"  
  A sudden flash blinded the woman, and the force of the explosion flung her into a tree. The cackling of a man rang out, his figure standing amongst the flames completely unharmed. 
  "Well, Mortal. What is it that you wish?"
Elle could hardly breathe. Everything hurt from being thrown into the tree, but if she did not answer him, the devil would become impatient. 
  "M-my lord. I wish only to serve you, to help you claim your rightful throne." she managed to stammer. 
  "Wonderful! It is not often that someone as young as you wishes to join my ranks!" 
Elle was startled at this news, there had been plenty of other younger people in her cult! Nevertheless, she shouldn't argue with her lord. 
  "Very well, my lord. What shall I do first?" 
The figure in the fire seemed to pause for a second before speaking again, but this time his voice was a bit higher pitched. 
  "How about we get you out of those grungy robes and into something with a little more... *pizzazz*."
Elle was startled at the sudden change in demeanour. 
  "Excuse me? What do you mean by *pizzazz*?" 
She was getting a bit put off. The elders had warned her that Satan could be strange, but never in her wildest dreams had Elle thought of him being like *this*!
The demonic figure just laughed again. 
  "Oh you know, those black robes just aren't *doing* it for you! I say a nice light purple would work really well."
Elle was getting mad now. Had she even summoned the right being? 
  "Who the hell are you?! I know you're not Satan, that's for sure!" 
The demonic figure was laughing so hard now, that Elle was sure he would stop breathing. 
  "Dear Cerberus! I'm not Satan! I'm Stan!"
The figure stepped out of the flames. He wore a tuxedo and top hat, along with well polished shoes. 
  "No," he continued to speak, "My dearest brother, Satan, could never dress as well as I." 
Stan took a few steps towards Elle, but tripped over a pile of logs and ended up face-first in the dirt. Elle couldn't help but giggle, such a proper devil in such a dusty mess! But her laughter soon turned to confusion.
  "But why are *you* here and not Satan? I thought I used the right summoning?"
Stan quickly scrambled to his feet and dusted himself off. 
  "I don't really know, dear. Why don't you show me the book?"
Elle handed the grimoire over to Stan, and he began to read over the summoning. His look of confusion soon turned to one of amusement, and he began to giggle. 
  "Honey, it looks like there were some spelling errors. For starters, "army" is really "armoire". I've been trying to get new recruits to help me take on those damned angels in the fashion industry, but all I've gotten so far are old grannies who are hell-bent on revenge!" 
Elle's head began to spin. Laughter seemed to be Stan's main form of communication. Fashion? Satan's brother? Did Satan even *have* a brother? Why had there been spelling errors in her book? It was standard issue from the head of the cult himself! She was shaken out of her thoughts by Stan prodding her robes. 
  "But really, sweetheart. If you're going to be my follower, we *need* to get you into something with a little more flare to it. I can't have bitter old grannies representing me on the runway, I need someone fresh, someone new!" 
And with a final tug on Elle's robes they were off, Stan dragging Elle along, and Elle resigning herself to being Stan's eternal slave of fashion. 
[EOC]
