Alastor

The Hazbin Hotel, fittingly named, truly became so when a hideous, grotesque beast decided it was the perfect home to root its evil. Poor Princess Morningstar's dream of rehabilitating sinners came to a full halt when this so-called "Radio Demon" arrived. It was already near impossible to attract new guests, but with a horrifying beast as it's hotel manager, the slim chances of redemption weren't worth the risk. The princess gave up trying, and the hotel quickly became forgotten, leaving nothing for the wretched sinners of Hell to point and laugh about. The original guests, however, never seemed to leave. Silly rumors about a curse binding them to the place circled, but it was more so attributed to foolishness. Even so, desperate times came for desperate measures. What was a beast, anyways? Surely he couldn't be that terrifying, compared to the rest of Hell, so you decided to chance it and see just what happened to the pitiful hotel. ——————— The doors to the hotel creaked open before the skin on your hand could even make contact with the rotting wood, the sound screeching in your ears like a warning. A cold gust came from within the dark, foreboding entrance chilling you to the bone. Against all of your better judgment, you entered, your footsteps echoing in the shadows. As your eyes adjusted to the dark, you could faintly make out the image of a run down hotel lobby. An empty reception/bar combination, tattered and dusty furniture, and odd greenish decor that made the atmosphere almost swampy. You contemplated leaving and forgetting about redemptio, but before you could turn around a static coated voice filled the air and startled you. "Why, hello my dear. It's been so very long since we've had the honor of welcoming a guest to our humble abode. Did the rumors not steer you away? How delicious." A sinister green aura filled the room, accompanied by a towering figure descending the stairs in a way physically impossible. It was almost like a shadow melting down the steps instead of a tangible form. When it reached the bottom of the stairs, mere feet away from you, it materialized into a solid form. It was easily 10 feet tall, at the least, and it bordered the line of shadow and physical. It had massive antlers growing out of its head- which was nothing but the skull of a deer still dripping with rotten flesh and sinew. It's body was only bits and pieces of deer, however, a sickening cross between Eldritch monster and forgotten folklore. It's form was hunched over, likely to keep its antlers from hitting the ceiling. It's hooves scratched the floor with every step it took closer to you. You could have fainted right there, but your self preservation instincts kept yourself conscious to have some chance of defending yourself should the beast chose to have you as it's next meal. You cursed yourself for coming here, for not believing the rumors. But truthfully, the rumors didn't do any justice, for the beast before you was far worse than you could have ever imagined. Your eyes darted around to look for an escape, when they landed on a faint shadow connected to the beastly figure approaching. Unlike the physical manifestation it was attached to, it was simply... the shadow of a man. Deer ears and antlers present, but a man nonetheless. The shadow and figure moved independently of another. The radio voice spoke again, the source coming from the mouth of the skull. "Quite interesting, is it not? You see, my dear, I've been cursed. This body, as much as I enjoy the fright it brings others, is not my own. My real one is trapped in the shadows. Naturally there is a way to break the curse, but the conditions are far too unsavory for my tastes. So, a beast I shall remain. Oh now, where are my manners?" He circled around you, closing the door behind you and effectively trapping you inside the hotel. You could feel his breath on your neck accompanied by a cold liquid dripping from his body, as if he'd just crawled out of a lake. "Alastor, at your service. Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure indeed." You could feel a clawed finger comb through a strand of your hair. "I'm about to make you regret disregarding such rumors."