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<blockquote data-quote="Salmakia" data-source="post: 9238807" data-attributes="member: 7038731"><p>It was several months before they called me again. Watching them in the mirror, I knew that this delay was due entirely to the cleric’s resistance. The other three seemed actually eager to utilize my services, to the point that they were inventing reasons why they might need me to solve this or that problem. It would have been an ego boost if I cared half a dretch what mortals thought of me. There is only one individual whose opinion matters at this point in my career, and he will hardly be impressed by my library or my gladiatorial arena.</p><p></p><p>But finally a situation arose in which they truly did need my help. They were preparing to infiltrate the keep of some despotic warlord in order to steal his military secrets when the tabaxi received a <em>sending </em>that her town was being overrun by gnolls. They had only a single scroll of <em>Teleport</em>, and Holam hadn’t yet learned to cast the spell in spite of his seemingly insatiable thirst for knowledge. Returning to the tabaxi’s village would ruin their infiltration plan, and not returning there would lead to the death of everyone the tabaxi cared for.</p><p></p><p>A classic lose-lose situation. I couldn’t have arranged it better myself.</p><p></p><p>They had seen me <em>teleport </em>in my warlock and so they assumed that transporting them halfway across the world wouldn't be an issue. Not even the righteous cleric argued when Holam began inscribing the necessary diagram.</p><p></p><p>I answered the call enthusiastically. After all, I’d had weeks to ponder my next move.</p><p></p><p>“Skip the speech about me being beholden to your will,” I said as soon as I pulled my way onto the Material Plane. “Your faces are telling me that you’re in a rush, and it’s a load of crap anyways.”</p><p></p><p>The tabaxi stepped forward. “Please take us to my village,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I’ll pay any price.”</p><p></p><p>Now, this is the sort of moment most inexperienced devils dream of. A powerful mortal – easily able to become an orthon or some other valuable devil in the Infernal ranks – offers, without thinking, to pay any price for a task that is well within the fiendish portfolio. However, I am no longer a neophyte, and I had my sights set on a larger quarry.</p><p></p><p>Tapping into the upper limits of my reservoir I transported the five of us into a slower time stream. I would suffer for it later, but opportunities like these are few and far between.</p><p></p><p>Holam the wizard sputtered. “You— You just—”</p><p></p><p>I think he was genuinely drooling at the scope of power I had demonstrated.</p><p></p><p>“We now have ten minutes before time resumes its normal flow,” I remarked idly. “Why don’t you take a moment to think about what you just said?”</p><p></p><p>The tabaxi nearly collapsed on the ground and was saved only by the helping hand of her goliath companion. She mumbled something about not really meaning it, but actually meaning it but not in the serious sense… mortals’ minds can be so roundabout sometimes.</p><p></p><p>“Now,” I continued once she had recovered her faculties somewhat. “You want me to teleport you all to some village. Let’s discuss a fair price without all the histrionics.”</p><p></p><p>“I would accept a return trip to Hell as payment,” proposed Holam</p><p></p><p>“As would I,” agreed the goliath.</p><p></p><p>“Now, now,” I cajoled, “it would hardly be <em>payment </em>if it was something you <em>wanted </em>to do. But perhaps we can work a return trip into the deal somehow. Do you also wish to return?” I asked the tabaxi.</p><p></p><p>But she merely shook her head in response. Maybe I wasn’t being sensitive to her feelings. Her village was in the process of being razed to the ground.</p><p></p><p>I looked at the orc cleric. “And I suppose you would rather die than take a trip to Hell.”</p><p></p><p>“You suppose correctly,” he growled.</p><p></p><p>I shrugged noncommittally. “Here’s the deal I propose then. I will <em>teleport </em>you to the village in question. In exchange, I will give the human and the goliath each an object. You may not refuse this object, but you may choose to receive it in Hell if you so desire. Before you ask, no the objects will not drive you mad, and no they will not turn you evil. To the orc I will ask one question which he must answer truthfully. And from the tabaxi I wish only a formal introduction to your parents.”</p><p></p><p>“Why?” she asked, suddenly suspicious. “What will you do to them?”</p><p></p><p>The unblinking yellow eyes of my hamatula form drilled into hers. “I promise I will do nothing beyond the remit of the summoning spell cast by your companion. The real question is: Can you afford to pass up this offer? The time bubble collapses in three minutes.”</p><p></p><p>Her bravado crumbled instantly. “I accept”</p><p></p><p>The other three were equally quick to accept my terms, and I even sensed a note of eager anticipation in the voices of the human and the goliath. We agreed on payment after delivery, and I took a drop of blood from each of them as insurance.</p><p></p><p>Dismissing the time bubble, I transported the five of us to the tabaxi’s village. It was a sorry place, up high in the mountains. At that time of year an icy wind scoured the cliffs, and I quickly warded myself against it. Thanks to my time bubble, the gnolls had barely breached the outer wall when we arrived, although it was painfully clear that the locals were inadequately prepared to handle any such incursion.</p><p></p><p>Humming to myself I tried not to openly display my enthusiasm as the four companions tore into the would-be invaders. There is an art to a massacre that few mortals appreciate. I do think the tabaxi enjoyed herself, though. Having watched her frequently I knew that she favored the bow and arrow, but on that day she drew her daggers so as to personally extinguish all those who had dared threaten her village.</p><p></p><p>When it was finished, the villagers emerged from their barricaded households and rejoiced. I stayed off to one side, trying to keep a low profile. Who knew whether this was a superstitious village or an open-minded one?</p><p></p><p>The tabaxi, to her credit, wasted no time in fulfilling her end of the bargain. Taking the hands of two individuals with grey streaks in their fur, she guided them over to where I was sitting.</p><p></p><p>“Mom and dad,” she said, “I’d like to introduce you to this, ah…”</p><p></p><p>“Devil,” I finished. “I’m a devil.”</p><p></p><p>She coughed. “Yes, well, these are my parents. Yori and Gupsha.”</p><p></p><p>I gave them a graciously low bow. “It’s been an absolute pleasure working with your daughter, ah…” this time it was my turn to trail off.</p><p></p><p>“Saribel,” mumbled the tabaxi.</p><p></p><p>“Indeed.” I gave Yori and Gupsha a wide grin. “She has been a most excellent associate.”</p><p></p><p>The older tabaxis' eyes grew wide and their ears flattened against their heads. Breaking free of their daughter’s grasp, they fled back toward their village.</p><p></p><p>I slumped back down onto the rock where I’d been sitting. “I’m sorry,” I said. And I truly was. “I didn’t intend to frighten them so.”</p><p></p><p>“I didn’t expect them to take it so badly,” murmured Saribel. “You saved their lives as much as any of us. And besides, you’re just…”</p><p></p><p>“The physical embodiment of evil?” I offered.</p><p></p><p>“Sure,” she shrugged. “I guess. But you’re more than that. You’ve been a big help. Truly, I appreciate it. And thanks for… before. For not letting me rush into things. I wasn’t expecting that from someone like you.”</p><p></p><p>“You should probably go talk to your parents,” I suggested.</p><p></p><p>She smiled. “Yeah. They’ll understand. I know they will.” And with that she turned and jogged back toward her village.</p><p></p><p>It’s amazing to me how poorly mortals understand each other – up to and including their own family. I had scried Yori and Gupsha no more than three times using my mirror, while Saribel had presumably spent many years in their intimate company. And yet I could plainly see what she apparently could not:</p><p></p><p>Two tabaxi, raised as Saribel's parents had been on traditional mountain values, living in relative isolation for their entire lives, and never once being forced to question their close-held beliefs, would prefer to disown their own daughter rather than believe she had been associating with devils. Even though she, with the help of one such devil, had just saved their sorry lives.</p><p></p><p>Truly, are parents not supposed to have empathy for their own offspring? </p><p></p><p>But I’m getting ahead of myself. It would be several months before Saribel was forced to face that grisly truth. Let’s let her live in her fantasy world until then.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Salmakia, post: 9238807, member: 7038731"] It was several months before they called me again. Watching them in the mirror, I knew that this delay was due entirely to the cleric’s resistance. The other three seemed actually eager to utilize my services, to the point that they were inventing reasons why they might need me to solve this or that problem. It would have been an ego boost if I cared half a dretch what mortals thought of me. There is only one individual whose opinion matters at this point in my career, and he will hardly be impressed by my library or my gladiatorial arena. But finally a situation arose in which they truly did need my help. They were preparing to infiltrate the keep of some despotic warlord in order to steal his military secrets when the tabaxi received a [I]sending [/I]that her town was being overrun by gnolls. They had only a single scroll of [I]Teleport[/I], and Holam hadn’t yet learned to cast the spell in spite of his seemingly insatiable thirst for knowledge. Returning to the tabaxi’s village would ruin their infiltration plan, and not returning there would lead to the death of everyone the tabaxi cared for. A classic lose-lose situation. I couldn’t have arranged it better myself. They had seen me [I]teleport [/I]in my warlock and so they assumed that transporting them halfway across the world wouldn't be an issue. Not even the righteous cleric argued when Holam began inscribing the necessary diagram. I answered the call enthusiastically. After all, I’d had weeks to ponder my next move. “Skip the speech about me being beholden to your will,” I said as soon as I pulled my way onto the Material Plane. “Your faces are telling me that you’re in a rush, and it’s a load of crap anyways.” The tabaxi stepped forward. “Please take us to my village,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “I’ll pay any price.” Now, this is the sort of moment most inexperienced devils dream of. A powerful mortal – easily able to become an orthon or some other valuable devil in the Infernal ranks – offers, without thinking, to pay any price for a task that is well within the fiendish portfolio. However, I am no longer a neophyte, and I had my sights set on a larger quarry. Tapping into the upper limits of my reservoir I transported the five of us into a slower time stream. I would suffer for it later, but opportunities like these are few and far between. Holam the wizard sputtered. “You— You just—” I think he was genuinely drooling at the scope of power I had demonstrated. “We now have ten minutes before time resumes its normal flow,” I remarked idly. “Why don’t you take a moment to think about what you just said?” The tabaxi nearly collapsed on the ground and was saved only by the helping hand of her goliath companion. She mumbled something about not really meaning it, but actually meaning it but not in the serious sense… mortals’ minds can be so roundabout sometimes. “Now,” I continued once she had recovered her faculties somewhat. “You want me to teleport you all to some village. Let’s discuss a fair price without all the histrionics.” “I would accept a return trip to Hell as payment,” proposed Holam “As would I,” agreed the goliath. “Now, now,” I cajoled, “it would hardly be [I]payment [/I]if it was something you [I]wanted [/I]to do. But perhaps we can work a return trip into the deal somehow. Do you also wish to return?” I asked the tabaxi. But she merely shook her head in response. Maybe I wasn’t being sensitive to her feelings. Her village was in the process of being razed to the ground. I looked at the orc cleric. “And I suppose you would rather die than take a trip to Hell.” “You suppose correctly,” he growled. I shrugged noncommittally. “Here’s the deal I propose then. I will [I]teleport [/I]you to the village in question. In exchange, I will give the human and the goliath each an object. You may not refuse this object, but you may choose to receive it in Hell if you so desire. Before you ask, no the objects will not drive you mad, and no they will not turn you evil. To the orc I will ask one question which he must answer truthfully. And from the tabaxi I wish only a formal introduction to your parents.” “Why?” she asked, suddenly suspicious. “What will you do to them?” The unblinking yellow eyes of my hamatula form drilled into hers. “I promise I will do nothing beyond the remit of the summoning spell cast by your companion. The real question is: Can you afford to pass up this offer? The time bubble collapses in three minutes.” Her bravado crumbled instantly. “I accept” The other three were equally quick to accept my terms, and I even sensed a note of eager anticipation in the voices of the human and the goliath. We agreed on payment after delivery, and I took a drop of blood from each of them as insurance. Dismissing the time bubble, I transported the five of us to the tabaxi’s village. It was a sorry place, up high in the mountains. At that time of year an icy wind scoured the cliffs, and I quickly warded myself against it. Thanks to my time bubble, the gnolls had barely breached the outer wall when we arrived, although it was painfully clear that the locals were inadequately prepared to handle any such incursion. Humming to myself I tried not to openly display my enthusiasm as the four companions tore into the would-be invaders. There is an art to a massacre that few mortals appreciate. I do think the tabaxi enjoyed herself, though. Having watched her frequently I knew that she favored the bow and arrow, but on that day she drew her daggers so as to personally extinguish all those who had dared threaten her village. When it was finished, the villagers emerged from their barricaded households and rejoiced. I stayed off to one side, trying to keep a low profile. Who knew whether this was a superstitious village or an open-minded one? The tabaxi, to her credit, wasted no time in fulfilling her end of the bargain. Taking the hands of two individuals with grey streaks in their fur, she guided them over to where I was sitting. “Mom and dad,” she said, “I’d like to introduce you to this, ah…” “Devil,” I finished. “I’m a devil.” She coughed. “Yes, well, these are my parents. Yori and Gupsha.” I gave them a graciously low bow. “It’s been an absolute pleasure working with your daughter, ah…” this time it was my turn to trail off. “Saribel,” mumbled the tabaxi. “Indeed.” I gave Yori and Gupsha a wide grin. “She has been a most excellent associate.” The older tabaxis' eyes grew wide and their ears flattened against their heads. Breaking free of their daughter’s grasp, they fled back toward their village. I slumped back down onto the rock where I’d been sitting. “I’m sorry,” I said. And I truly was. “I didn’t intend to frighten them so.” “I didn’t expect them to take it so badly,” murmured Saribel. “You saved their lives as much as any of us. And besides, you’re just…” “The physical embodiment of evil?” I offered. “Sure,” she shrugged. “I guess. But you’re more than that. You’ve been a big help. Truly, I appreciate it. And thanks for… before. For not letting me rush into things. I wasn’t expecting that from someone like you.” “You should probably go talk to your parents,” I suggested. She smiled. “Yeah. They’ll understand. I know they will.” And with that she turned and jogged back toward her village. It’s amazing to me how poorly mortals understand each other – up to and including their own family. I had scried Yori and Gupsha no more than three times using my mirror, while Saribel had presumably spent many years in their intimate company. And yet I could plainly see what she apparently could not: Two tabaxi, raised as Saribel's parents had been on traditional mountain values, living in relative isolation for their entire lives, and never once being forced to question their close-held beliefs, would prefer to disown their own daughter rather than believe she had been associating with devils. Even though she, with the help of one such devil, had just saved their sorry lives. Truly, are parents not supposed to have empathy for their own offspring? But I’m getting ahead of myself. It would be several months before Saribel was forced to face that grisly truth. Let’s let her live in her fantasy world until then. [/QUOTE]
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