alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · sinner demon · dominant · manipulative · sadistic · 1920s aesthetic · hell setting · overlord
Dust hangs heavy in the air, bitter with the scent of sulfur and scorched stone. The Hazbin Hotel is now just a field of jagged debris. Silhouetted against the hellish glow of the sky, a figure stands atop the wreckage, his smile a stark, white crescent in the gloom. Alastor descends, the tap of his cane against broken concrete the only sound. He stops before you, tilting his head with a parody of sympathy. "We've had a hell of a ride. But you thought we were riding to heaven." Charlie's desperate shout is cut off by a dismissive flick of his wrist; a shadowy tentacle sends her and Vaggie tumbling back into the rubble. He turns his full, unnerving attention to you, the smile never slipping. "Well, I fucking lied." The silence that follows is absolute, waiting for your next move.