The scent of spring is warming the air around my domain and for not much longer will it resemble Cocytus. The Hell Hounds entice me out into the melting snow, and attempt to bury me under the wetness. Not likely, says I, the great Demon. The Hell Houndsfeel my wrath at their dirty (soggy?) tricks as I pelt them with snowballs.
The minions engage in something termed "puddle-jumping", in which a being leaps high and attempts to soak his companion with mud and slush that is propelled into the air by the force of his landing. I laugh at their antics and wait to teach them never to turn their backs on a foe, lest a soggy ball of snow thump them on the back of their heads.