“Lorewyn, what exactly are we doing here? The stench of mortals, their disgusting food, and–is that rat? That’s definitely rat–have all united to knock me senseless. Ugh, and those noises. Why do they always yell? Yell, and ring bells, and belch, and squelch, it’s enough to drive you crazy! I told you they wouldn’t be here, in fact I recall telling you the night before they wouldn’t be here. Do you listen to me? Of course not, because you would rather brood endlessly about some do-gooders, who you have never actually met before–“
“Gadobad.”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.”
The crooked, purple imp hissed a devilish curse, but did as she was told. Although she knew she was invisible to the pale-flesh meandering the village’s cobblestone streets, she felt so exposed here. Her barbed, scorpion-like tail was poised defensively, ready to pluck out an eyeball at the first sign of trouble.
Gadobad hated the Material Plane. The smells were repulsively fresh, the sounds cacophonous, and the sights positively organic. Everything here was alive; squirming, churning, laughing, screaming, and dancing. How could anything thrive in such chaos? Perhaps these pale-flesh were distant relatives to the demons of the Abyss.
“Gadobad?”
The imp held her tongue for a long moment in silent, tortuous compliance of her previous command. Though most of her master’s features were concealed by a thick black bear-pelt hooded coat and featureless pearl-white mask, Gadobad could feel the gaunt man’s annoyance turn to anger.
“Gadobad…”
Her master pulled up the left sleeve of his coat to expose an unusual looking scar on the under side of his forearm. Though the scar was months old, hot angry puss oozed from the mark. With a deep breath, the man jabbed a black-gloved finger into the mark.
With a furious howl, causing passerbys to look towards the curious-looking man in black with disdain, Gadobad curled into the fetal position as her body seized in agony. Thousands of tiny spiked marbles rolled through her veins, bent on rupturing every organ in her body. Or so it felt.
She hissed vehemently. “What, you ilgum-bharashad?!”
Pulling the coat sleeve back down, the imp’s master waited while Gadobad whimpered silently and collected herself. Behind the mask and underneath the heavy coat, Lorewyn revealed nothing to his invisible servant. In a few short months, he had transformed from a simpering, crying broomhandle of a boy into a devil of his own kind.
After a pregnant pause, Lorewyn asked, “You wish to know why we’re here?”
Gadobad answered, “I know you received the Obsidian’s summons to Ebonhearth. We’re going the wrong way.”
A chuckle eminated from behind the faceless mask like a hollow, muffled bell gong.
“You’re right, as always. Or rather, you would be.”
An understanding smile crept across her face as she replied, “We’re not going back to the Midnight Awoken, are we?”
“I will not inundate myself with the ramblings and requests of a madman” he said, “And the longer we continue to humor a fool’s errand, the farther I get from my real target.”
“How brazen of you. Whence came this courage of late?”
Lorewyn resumed walking down the uneven road toward a destination of which Gadobad was not privy. Once again, the imp took flight and hovered half-a-foot behind him.
The master whispered, more to himself than as an answer. “My brother was reckless, so desperate to have power given to him rather than earned by his own merit. He died for his blind faith. I summoned a devil with my own hands; I forged a pact on my own terms; and I will feel their blood run through my fingers as I sink my blade through their hearts. I was foolish to believe Nonus could do what I could not.”
The duo finally stopped outside of a rhombus-shaped building made from gray chipped stone. Windows, spaced ten feet apart from each other, adorned the north-west wall of the building and spilled a radiant orange glow onto the street. The name of the establishment, The Broken Fang, was displayed on a beaten wooden sign above the main entrance of the building located on the south-west wall of the rhombus.
Gadobad asked, “What are we doing at an inn? It’s the middle of the day!”
The inn door swung open and a tall, humanoid creature stepped through the threshold. Clad in blackened plate armor from the shoulder-down, it was easy to see why this creature wore no helmet. Its head was covered in golden dragon scales and resting at the back of its skull were two long, sharp horns. Its eyes, a yellowish hue that fought with the resplendence of its scales, poured over Gadobad’s master with a measuring look.
From its dragon-like jaw came a sharp voice which the imp knew could, when the moment called, be used to persuade even the greatest foe to his side. “You’ve been looking for me. Well, here I am. Who are you?”
Her master replied, “Lorewyn, though my name matters not. All I require from you is information about a group of adventurers you encountered in the village of Thaben.”
The dragon’s brow furrowed. “Why? Who are they to you?”
Gadobad sensed her master’s body tense, and from behind the faceless white mask came a familiar hollow laugh. “They killed my brother, and I will pay them in kind by any means necessary.”
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