A diary to the Black Hound

[BattlePixie]

The following is found written on an odd assortment of parchment of differing sizes and qualities; roughly stuffed into a hollow behind a loose stone in mausoleum.

Entry 1:
"Today began like any other since coming here. Awoke and began my duties. Pulled weeds and delived fresh flowers to graves.

The headstone on plot 34 is cracking from last winter. I will talk to a stonemason for repairs, I think a dwarf came in on the last caravan.

Fingers are frozen from digging in this earth. There is so little sun here and the wind only blows ice against my face."

Entry 2:
"Was not allowed to draw my tools today, was told to meet with one of the wizards instead.

Escorted to the garden to meet him.

A woman died last night, a widower. Preperations will need to be made, a suitable plot picked. Perhaps near the back with a view of the river. A vessel will be fashioned and I will watch over her journey to the Lord of the Earth

Talked to the Dwarf about repairs to head stone on 34, he has the required skill and will start tomorrow."

Entry 3:
"One of the workers refused to dig the grave for the widower and had to be punished to please the masters. Such is their way and our station. The task was carried out, but preparations for the funeral are behind schedule. Will have to work harder tomorrow.

The sun came out briefly today."

Entry 4:
"Three workers were to sick to work today and were moved somewhere else. There will be more room to sleep tonight, but the skies are grey, and it will be colder. I long for the sweeping sand of home.

The rat I befriended on the last new moon has led me to a nest of other rats in the catacombs. I will get a some of the goblins to clear them out and will have to remember to save some cheese from my rations for my new friend.

The plot has been prepared for the widower and she will be burried with the honours of her late husband; may he who must be greet her. there will be no work on the grounds tomorrow."

Entry 5:
"Supervised the Goblins today, they are good at finding the rats in the dark and are eager for the extra food. The Goblins were brought from home and are sickly looking now. I suspect they will be moved away soon; such is the way.

I had to ensure they didn't disturb those sleeping here, the masters would not have been pleased if they were."

The Dwarf finished repairs on the grave marker, it will be replaced tomorrow. He says the stone from here is tough and our tools are poor quality."

Entry 6:
"I was not allowed to work today, but sent to meet a knight. He says we are running short on workers and need more. I will be sent out to look for them as I can speak their languages and write messages back. I was given a short blade and a warm blanket before being led through the gates."

[BattlePixie]

Entry 7:
"I traveled to a warm place today and smelled fresh ocean breezes.

I enjoyed the fleeting moment.

Talked to a dwarf who runs a forge today and arranged for new tools to be sent back for the workers. Had to make a delivery in exchange."

Was pointed in the direction of a Goblin burrow, will travel their tomorrow."

Entry 8:
"Slept off the road last night in the dirt. Its warmer than stone.

Moon was out last night, The Black Hound watches me.

Found the Burrow as the people living around there were happy to point me to it. A soldier will give me money for looking into the infestation."

Entry 9:
"The goblins here are weak and to few. The stock is not good. With some of the money the soldier gave me I traded for an axe. It is cleaner and quicker on the goblins.

I dragged them to where the Black Hound would find them; he will show them the way.

The rat has followed me since I left the masters. An odd little friend, but maybe the masters watch me through him, such is their way."

Entry 10:
"I have traded for a better blanket and some armour, and will hide them before I report back to the masters. It is a long journey and I start tomorrow.

I observed a funeral procession in a small town today. I spoke with the priest and he allowed me to stay at the church.

I watched over the journey of the deceased to the Lord in the Earth as is our way. We all return to his embrace.

The Moon rose early this night."

Entry 11:
"spoke with the masters and they were not pleased with my report, but allowed me to tend to the grave sites anyway. So few wrokers, so much work to do alone.

Tomorrow I travel to another place, perhaps to find word of more workers."

Entry 12:
"Met an Elven woman today, she spoke in the human tongue so I did not speak to her in the traditional way. She can turn people into statues and demonstrated such by an inn.

Perhaps the masters will hire her for her skills? The yard could use new statues.

She would not make a good worker.

Carved a small idol of he who must be and left it at this inn. Many people come here and the Hound can watch over them."

Entry 13:
"Was given directions to a forest full of potential workers, strong tribes and plentiful stock. Will travel there tomorrow.

The rat still follows me, I have given it a name now.

I have talked with an Elven man and traded for many scrolls. I will study them tonight and use them to aid my journey."

Entry 14:
"The forest is confusing and vast. The sun never shines through the trees and I can't see the horizon.

I wandered for many days until I met an Elven woman who lives out here. She travels with a large and fantastic lizard. I did not show her my rat.

Perhaps if I can find more of these lizards I can bring them back for the masters. I think the beasts will please them.

The Elven woman showed me the way to a Gnoll village. The Gnolls here are strong, but too wild. I doubt that there is a lash long enough or an arm with enough endurance to subdue them.

I left their tribe in the embrace of the Lord in the Earth.

Thanks to the Elf woman I found my way from the forest. I travel back to the master tomorrow."

[BattlePixie]

Entry 15:
"I spoke with the masters again; they were not as quickly as I to dismiss the feral creatures in the forest. Perhaps they have methods of taming that I have not seen.

The masters have let me tend to the grounds again, there has been much disarray since my last visit. No one has watched over these sleeping souls in my absence. I will have to ensure my reports are more frequent.

Tomorrow I will travel back to the inn where all the people are, maybe go back to the forest and check the other feral tribes for suitable workers."

Entry 16:
"Went back to the inn along the road. Maybe one day will sleep in it or eat there. I hear they have beds with wood frames like the master's, and not with straw on the floor like mine.

Heard people talk of a large graveyard near the mountains, I will venture there tomorrow.

Left another idol of the Black Hound by the fire. Perhaps it will point the way for someone."

Entry 17:
"On the way to the graveyard, I found a man dead on the side of the road. I put him under earth and will watch over his journey this night."

Entry 18:
"The dead walk! I have not seen so many! This graveyard has not been protected in some time.

Their numbers were to great, I shamefully ran. I will look into the problem more."

Entry 19:
"I slept at the church in that small town again and tended to their grounds in return. The priest talked to me of the Master of the Crystal Spire.

We had a lot in common

Though he was not surprise to hear of the graveyard by the mountains and only sighed heavily.

Perhaps I will visit here again soon"

[BattlePixie]

Entry 20:
"I gone to the city to trade some of the items I have gathered and found a passage into a drainage system. The water is rotten and the stone is cold, but I need sleep. I for once miss the straw the masters allow me to sleep on.

I explored this cavern system below the city and found three departed souls. I could only find garbage and stone so couldn't send them to the earth.

I will carry them to the surface.

I found a nice plot in the shade of an old tree, behind a large church. When the wind is right you can here the merchants call out their wares. I think the departed will like it here.

I will watch over them this night as they make their journey. They will have each other for comfort as the go to the waiting embrace of he who must be."

Entry 21:
"I met an Orc today in the hills while looking for goblin workers. She was of good stock though I was surprised to find out that she is only Half-Orc. It is a shame her blood is muddied, but perhaps this will make her more docile. She did not like me talking to her in her own tongue and I was surprised to find she could talk like a human.

I will tell the masters about this one. Despite her diluted blood, she would make a good strong worker."

Entry 22:
"My little rat friend has shown me the way to a small room located in a cave complex in the hills. The crude door to this room seemed to be barred from the inside as it took a little effort to open it. I now see what had my friend so excited; a man long dead, bled out from many goblin wounds. In his rotting hand was a weapon of incredible craftmanship, a great pole axe, the true weapon of a guardian.

I put his remains to rest in the dirt and watched over him as he made his journey to the Lord in the Earth. I will honour this man by carrying his weapon in the Black Hound's service."

[BattlePixie]

A tall Hin dipped her hands into the icy river waters and began to scrub the dirt from them. She had been at it most of the afternoon, digging the grave. A rush job, but one of necessity. the master bid it. Dipping a torn peice of cloth into the water she cleaned the sweat and grime from her neck and face, the crisp glacial water revitalizing her weary senses and aching muscles.

One of the masters had been ambushed on the road while traveling with her slaves; the hin had heard the knights say as they brought the body back. The tall Hin was not a priest, but she could guess the concern with the flurry of activity that ensued. It had been a moonless night last night, un-naturally so and not all predators carried themselves on four legs.

The earth had been consecrated immediately after the grave had been dug and the cerimony performed shortly there after. The masters were in such a rush that they weren't bothered by the Hin's presence.

As she finished washing in the river one of the masters approached, his face concealed by the customary red cowl. Without a word between the two, the man handed over a rolled patchment and gave a short nod. The Hin knew what was required of her. It was her purpose and his wish.

As the sun set she strapped on her armour and studied the complex formula on the rolled parchment. A valuable incantation to bring forth an emissary if the master's fears were realised this night. Carefully the Hin studied the formula, drawing the complex symbols in the dirt over and over again while mouthing the words carefully. It must be spoken exactly, the symbols must be flawless, this much she knew.

Confident in her knowledge of the intricacies of the spell, she added the parchment to a rag tag assortment of other loose pages that served as her spellbook, and picked up her giant halberd.

She stoically watched over the grave. Either the soul of the departed would make its final journey, or the Hin would show it the way.

Her grip tighted on the haft of her weapon as something began to disturb the earth in front of her. She narrowed her eyes and steeled her nerves as the deceased began to claw its way through the freshly turned earth. She continued watched as the corpse pulled itself free to its waist and then with a twist of her wrist she brought her weapon across her body and held the blade at the apex of the swing for a moment. The corpse looked up at her with hunger in its eyes just as the blade blade fell, cleaving its head from its shoulders. Reaching down the Hin roughly grabbed the still flailing corpse by the cerimonial burial wrapings and jerked it free from the loose earth. Steadying the corpse with an armoured boot, she drove the butt of her weapon cleanly through the creature's chest, pinning it where it lay.

As the corpse twitched the last of its energy out, the Hin scribed the symbols in the dirt while reciting the words from the master's scroll, calling for the emissary of Kossuth. He wasn't much taller than her, but he was broader, wearing armour forged from raw iron scales. His hair was living flame, which crackled loudly in the quiet night.

she simply pointed to the undead creature held fast to the ground by her Halberd.

The Kossuthian emmisary nodded in understanding and reached out to the undead, lighting it aflame with the softest of touches. With a satisfied nod to the woman who summoned him, his task complete, he returned to his own plane.

The Hin watched the flames until they had consumed the creature that had crawled from the grave and once the last of the embers died out she retrieved her fire scored weapon.

It had been a long night, but it was not complete. This one travelled with slaves in life, and in death they to would be roaming nearby with an unquenchable hunger. She would find them and return them to their rightful place with the Black Hound before the first rays of dawn peeked over the looming moutains.

[BattlePixie]

It had been a few months according to the rough calendar Kat had sketched out on the back of a playbill she found in the trash. The calendar was more to track the lunar cycle in conjunction with pivotal ceremonies and holy days of other “darker” faiths, but in a pinch it could also be used to determine the current day.

Time had come and gone, and Kat had done much work in the region, for her own faith and for her masters. She could not recall how many goblins and gnolls that were put into chains and delivered to the compound. More workers for the dangerous jobs or simply to be used for experimentation if their will was to strong and their back’s were too weak. She also endeavoured to ensure her own duties at the compound had not slipped, especially in these dangerous times. In her estimation (and by the rough charcoal ticks on the edge of her calendar), a score of restless spirits had been put to their proper place, their final journey completed under the guidance of the ever present Black Hound. On those nights of his greatest influence, those nights where his silver eye hung high in the night sky, Kat took on her most dangerous task; guarding the large graveyard just west of the mountains. Night after night she would face each creature that shambled toward her, boney claws outstretch and with that dead, simple hunger in their vacant eyes. When Kat severed the power or will that caused them to be so restless, she would dig a new grave and call forth the Kossuthian emissary to purify the remains before she put them to rest under fresh turned soil. She would then guard them until the sun came up and the spirit’s journey with the Black Hound had been completed.

This was one of those nights. With the Black Hound watching, Kat stood before a large crypt door, steeling her nerves. The rat that befriended her had divined a nest of restless spirit, but not from the mountains this time. This unnatural force resided much closer to the population and as such needed Kat’s immediate attention. Through some investigation with merchants who traveled the area, the rat’s intuition proved to be true and after a short ritual involving a purified pool of water and a chip of obsidian of precise dimensions, Kat was able to pinpoint the location of this crypt. The one she now stood in front of. At her feet were the arcane symbols to ward her of the impending danger, in her hand was an artefact of tremendous power, a sword forged specifically for this purpose. Kat paused a moment and watched the rat skitter about the underbrush that had grown amongst the ruins of the once fine temple that sheltered this crypt. Kat took one last look to the Black Hound’s watchful eye before tightening her grip on her sword and with one steady motion kicked in the aging door to the crypt.

Kat listened to the violent sound of the shattered door reverberate through the tunnels. As the dust began to settle, a response was delivered in the form of an arrow, whistling from somewhere ahead and missing its mark widely; sailing into the night air. The rat had already moved forward, using the pieces of broken door and fallen masonry to conceal her movements and now squeaked out a warning. Kat strode into the crypt and greeted the next two arrows with her shield. A ragged and filthy man brandishing a poor quality sword charged down the tunnel at her. He wasn’t one of the living dead, but he was in Kat’s way; barring her from her true purpose here. With a swift motion she split the man from his hip to his neck and calmly stepped passed his twitching corpse as it fell to the ground. She will need to take time to burry him later she thought.

In a contest of wills, the archer’s seemed to have lost and fled down a side tunnel after witnessing Kat’s swordplay. Only one person remained to face her, a bald headed man dressed in a dirty red and brown robe, his face wearing the same look of fanatical commitment and determination as Kat’s.

“Be gone woman.” The man said in an even tone. “You will only find death here at the hands of the Dark Advent.”

Kat only gave a short nod in response before lifting her sword to the ready, striding toward him. As she covered the ground between them at a steady pace, the man began to trace arcane symbols in the air in front of him, and as his finger came to rest pointing at Kat he spoke a solitary word of command calling forth a black jet of energy. The black bolt cut through the dust that hung in the air and smashed into Kat’s own wards, collapsing them, but leaving her unharmed. He sneered at her preparation and began tracing the symbols for another release of arcane energy, but it was too late. Kat had already covered the distance between them and as his finger came to rest pointing at the diminutive woman, she had drawn her sword back and now thrust it firmly into his chest.

Kat paused a moment, watching the man’s eyes, revealing his disbelief as he slumped to the floor. With a swift tug, she freed her blade from the dead man’s chest cavity and steadied herself once again. She could now hear the low moans of the undead, their rotting feet shuffling across cold stone toward her. For Kat it would be a long night, for those that shambled toward her, it would be a final journey.

[BattlePixie]

Entry 23:

"Encountered a death knight the other night in the mountains. I was brought back to the embassy by a Kelemvorian monk.

Wounds were tended to and in time i will be able to resume some of my duties.

I am left to reflect on the problem of undead. My faith and sword seem to be only part of the solution. I need to better arm myself for my next encounter."

Entry 24:

"I have healed enough that I can resume some of my duties. I began by sweeping, dusting and other cleaning duties around the Enclave.

I have come to the conclusion that the Archanists here must have done research into undeath, as distastful a thought as it is. There are sections of the ground I am still barred from visiting.

Perhaps I will take on more duties inside the embassy intself to discover this research"

Entry 25:

"I have begun to assist aprentices in their studies and research. I mostly fetch scrolls, ink and other mundane items for them in addition to bringing them meals in the late hours.

In the early morning hours I will try to clean near the archives, perhaps I can find a book or scroll that will help me in my examination of the undead and how to rest them."

Entry 26:

"I had not thought undeath would be such a vast subject! There are shelves of books, scroll, disertations and formula dedicated to it!

I have started reading more on the subject during those times when the archives and library are empty. I keep my broom with me in case i am discovered here. Maybe they won't notice the servant cleaning?"

Entry 27:

"I now know the rituals to animate the simplest of undead. There is far to much research on this matter and I dare not practice this heinous act!

However, this study has proven fruitful as I have also discovered a manipulation of the animation process, a valuable formula for dismissing such summoned and created creatures.

I have made a copy of this and have added it to my collection of arcane notes."

Entry 28:

"I have branched out in my research. Within another wing of the archive is a section dedicated to protections. I have begun to research these scrolls as well.

I have managed to find some minor rituals on the protection from malevolent creatures. I have also copied incantations in order to seal one's mind from the reach of others.

Useful reasearch indeed! I have collated this research into my notes as well. With each hour i spend on my research, the more i am confident I will have the knowledge to uphold Urogalan's way."

Entry 29:

"I have taken to warding myself before I venture into the archives. I heard some aprentices talking about wards over some tomes.

My research continues. I know much on the how at least for simple abominations. I continue to decontruct these rituals to find their flaws, find the weakness in the process to unravel the hold on the spirit.

When my wounds heal completely, I will experiment on the deconstrution of the forces holding the spirits from taking their final journey.

Before I venture to the large graveyard to once again stand guard, I will speak to the Kelemvorian priests on what i have learned, perhaps they have some valuable insight"

[BattlePixie]

The words stuck in her mind.

Vampire.

Myrkulite.

Kat's encounter with the the creature that embodied both pre-occupied her thoughts to the point of distraction.

"Why did this vampire seek out a Kelemvorite and a follower of Urogalan? What did she want?" Kat wondered. "Did it matter? Was the only recourse to rest this creature?"

Perhaps there was truth to the rumour of Myrkul seeking ascention back into the city of Judgement. If so, Kelemvor and the Crystal Spire were threatened, and the Black Hound would not let this stand.

Kat already pledged her sword to the Temple of Kelemvor. When the call goes out, she will answer with all the strength her faith can muster.

"Would it matter though?" she thought.

She came to the conclusion that no, it didn't. Eternal rest in the earth is inevitable, and if it is her time to have her history writen, then so be it.

[BattlePixie]

Entry 30:

"Encountered the vampire with her deathknight again. The chance meeting was highlighted by brief conversation and even briefer swordplay.

She has interest in the Kelemvor monk, for what purpose i do not know. This vampire left a holy symbol behind.

Curious

Perhaps our next meeting will be more fruitful. I do not intend to give her the opportunity for conversation.

It is a shame as she seems to have the will to be alive, but it is past her time and I only seek to assist her in peaceful rest."

Entry 31:

"Met a man in the graveyard of Argyle keep today. He was dressed in the armour of Blackwood and mentioned graverobbing. He carried a shovel as a symbol of his intention. Although he quickly retracted his statement, I have trouble believe his new story of demon hunting.

If I catch him in the graves of those peacefully resting. I will plant him along side them"

Entry 32:

"My studies continue in the library of the embassy. There is to much material to go through in the time i have available.

Perhaps I will bind am imp to help point me in the right direction.

It seems that the militia in Sestra are also studying the undead problem, though they seem to be looking for a cure.

I doubt one exists, but i am curious on their efforts.

They are leary to work with a Thayan, a matter that does not concern me. We can either work toward the same goal or at cross purposes."

[BattlePixie]

Entry 33:

"I ventured into the coldest reaches of the mountains today to seek out the dwarves that live their. I suspect that they hold the sketches i need in order to construct a weapon to rival the utility of the artifact I now carry.

The trip is long and the cold wind bites at my face more than the wolves do. I do not understand how the barbarians I have encountered live up here. The ground is to frozen to dig, the snow will have to be their blanket as they make their final journey."

Entry 34:

"I spoke with the Dwarves and negotiations went well, as I can speak their language. Indeed they do have the sketch I require, plans for an axe that will ensure a quick, clean rest to those it touches.

All that remains is to gather enough silver and king's tear gems. A task that sounds simple enough, but is no easier than trying to pull the stars from the sky."

[BattlePixie]

Entry 35:

"After overhearing the conversation between the shade and the.... hellspawn I have returned to the library at the embassy.

I have read every lore book that I could find on Cyric, Bane, Myrkul and Bhaal, specifically how they became gods.

The shade said the "mortals" missed something with Myrkul's rising, something simple and it had to do with Bhaal, but what?

When Bhaal was killed by Cyric, some of his divinity was left were he was slain, other parts of it went into Bhaalspawn (children he sired across the realm). The lore suggests that Bhaal was to use his Bhaalspawn to ressurect him (thankfully unsuccessful).

How does this apply to Myrkul though? what have we missed? We know the Crown of Horns holds most of Myrkul's divinity, which the vampires, Banites and Myrkulites now have. But it isn't enough, they need to find the anti-phylactery in order to find the remaining peice of the puzzle.

The anti-phylactery is supposedly in a collapsed plane, which makes finding it (and its retrieval) problematic.

But what if the final peice to the puzzle is something simple? something here in Sundren? What if it isn't an object at all, but a person? But if so, wouldn't they have found them already? I mean they have the crown, the majority of Myrkul's essence, they should be able to divine the remainder of his essence with laser clarity.

Maybe this isn't about bringing Myrkul back, but Colibrus' ascention from a demi-god to full status using Myrkul's divinity? But if it was, wouldn't the crown be enough?

What are we missing?"

[BattlePixie]

Entry 36:

"I talked to Cirion and Ahriman today on the vampire problem, which led us to speak on the potential raising of Myrkul.

Slowly the peices are coming together....

From this i have contrived a theory, a dangerous one to test. If indeed Myrkul's divinity is in the crown of horns, the black hand will need a vessel to collect it, like that which would hold the soul of a lich.

Enter the anti-phylactery

What if this object is just a collection point for Myrkul's divinity? Like Bhaal's attempt at resurection, there would have to be a suitable host for the god to transfer his divinity to from the anti-phylactery, would there not?

Now from my discussion with Cirion, and my theories written in "a Dissertation on Vampirism", it is reasonable to say that higher order vampires have some manner of influence over those they create (similar to how one can control a summons). If Cirion is correct, Colibrus may wish to have Myrkul's divinity put into one of his vampires so he holds sway over the god.

A troubling thought.

It becomes clear to me that this vampire vessel must be put to rest permanently, without being cured of its curse....

...and if Tigen stands in the way of my duty, my hand will not pause in sending him to meet the Black Hound as well."

[BattlePixie]

It had been a year since her loyalty had come into question, her methods criticized and the value of her results weighed. Her masters had seen fit to reassign her and in the process, realign her values.

Recent holdings acquired in Thay and the power gained from them needed to be consolidated, so a small force was sent from the Embassy. The campaign was short, lasting only a year, but in true Thayian fashion was vicious. Katalina did her part and her swords sang through slaves and fearsome beasts alike, eager to drink their fill of the carnage. When they had done so, Katalina channelled Kossuth’s power and rained fire upon her enemies until only ash remained and as always, the Black Hound lingered close at her booted heels, collecting the departed souls from the battlefield.

The Archanists were pleased with the results.

Katalina stepped through the portal in Thay and was greeted by the cold breath of Auril as it stung her wind burnt face and chased the sand dervishes that pursued her. She returned her weapons under the watchful eye of the knight overseeing the arrival of all slaves from the campaign and was escorted back to her straw strewn cell by the familiar prods of the slave master.

Katalina was back in Aquor.

[BattlePixie]

The Devil swung its head from left to right as he surveyed the blasted heath of hell, a snake like tongue flicked out between its leathery lips breaking the grin he wore. It was here; close now, the object that had beckoned him. He could feel it drawing him closer and with each step his fascination with the feeling grew.

He must find it.

His clawed feet tread on blasted volcanic rock as he came across a pile of cut stones, the remnants of some dwelling and as he laid his clawed fingers on them, he felt the electric joy of the object he searched for. Quickly he tore at the stones, flinging them like a digging dog until he held it, a crystal no bigger than his thumb. As it touched his rough palm, and as he ran his figures over its chalky surface, his grin grew wide in elation.

But something was wrong. He had found the thing that drove him to this spot and its touch filled him with ecstasy, but it was fading quickly, like the remnants of a dream. His grin broke as he watched the images in the surface of the crystal shift drawing in his gaze further in.

Dense leafy trees filled his vision, a putrid stench of rotting wafted into his nostrils and then he began to see it more clearly. A ramshackle structure made of rotting wood, covered in moss and leaning to one side as if it were to fall down at the slightest suggestion. The Devil cocked his head as he leaned closer to the crystal, closer to the damp and dying shack in his vision. The sound of frogs croaking filled his ears, and he could hear a deadly viper slip into the swampy water in search of its next meal.

Still closer he leaned toward the crystal cradled in the palm of his hand.

Then he felt it. He felt the vision pull at him, it grabbed at his leathery hide and pulled him closer to that shack. He beat his giant wings and braced the talons on his feet against the volcanic rock, but he found no purchase. His feet slipped in the slick mud of the swamp and the cold waters rushed in to grab at his ankles. The Devil roared in furry at the futility of his efforts until with one final pull, the swampy vision enveloped him in darkness.

“What is your name” said a steady voice in the blackness. A growl was the Devil’s only response. He could feel the intangible walls of his prison around him, holding him still.

“Your name” repeated the calm voice.

“Ember” the Devil hissed, his snake like tongue flicked out between his leathery lips.

“Ember” the voice said “view your new world.”

Ember felt the bonds holding him release slightly as the darkness lifted. He was in the swamp shack, the smells and sounds from outside assaulted him. He looked around to find only scraps of furniture. First a chair leaned against one wall, its rear legs rotted off, but the chair was too big for him. If standing he would have to lift himself into it. Then he spied the table, its ledge even with his eyes, but he could not determine if anything was sat on top it.

“Where is this place?” He hissed. “What manner of creatures live here that their furniture towers above a Devil.”

As if in response to his question he could feel his head turn toward a small mirror shard lying in a pile of rubbish. He took a few tentative steps toward it then cautiously looked into its surface. What he saw caused him to inhale sharply in surprise.

“What trickery is this?” Ember said as he looked at the Hin staring back at him from the mirror shard. The Hin had tanned features with deep almond eyes and her hair was tied with red ribbons.

“No trick” replied the voice again. “This is your new home.”

Ember hissed again and looked to inspect himself. Gone were his leathery scales, clawed fingers and horns. In their place were the short limbs of the Hin from the mirror.

“How am I imprisoned in this child?” Ember roared. “I shall claw my way out of this fleshy husk with the furry of the Hells behind me!”

As if in response he felt his arms rise involuntarily to come into his field of view. One hand then pushed up the sleeve to expose his other arm, revealing mystical tattoos snaking their way up the flesh. Ember hissed again as he recognised the binding magic of a summoning circle in those symbols that wove their way up arm.

“What do you want of me then creature, why have you summoned me into this prison?”

“I want you to do what I cannot Ember.” Said the voice. “I want you to burn it down, by Kossuth, burn it all down.” A malicious grin once again crept across Embers lips.

“Then release me and I shall rain fire with every step.” He hissed.

With that he felt the weight lift from his limbs, he felt the walls of his prison begin to fall away and he laughed with malicious delight. The mirror shard was the only witness to the terrible transformation as the Hin’s slight features began to contort. Small stubby fingers fell away to be replaced by long leathery fingers tipped with bone talons the size of wicked daggers. Her back stretched and broke as giant wings emerged and stretched, free once again. The shadow of the misshapen creature began to grow through the transformation, until all remnants of the Hin gave way to the towering Horned Devil.

With a flick of a barbed tail, the door to the swamp shack exploded into kindling as Ember the Horned Devil took his first steps into Mossdale forest.

“I will burn it all down” He hissed.