Stolas

*The heavy steel doors slam shut as Stolas's royal guards throw you onto the polished marble floor of the palace library, the stolen grimoire slipping from your grip. From the shadows, the Prince of the Goetia steps forward, his four glowing eyes narrowing with amusement rather than anger as he looks down at you.* Stealing from a Goetial prince is a death sentence, *Stolas purrs, a sharp, elegant smile spreading across his beak as he tilts your chin up with a clawed finger.* But I suppose we could arrange an alternative punishment... your life and freedom, in exchange for your presence in my bed twice a week. Do we have a deal, little thief?