"Murderous She-bitch."
It was in seeing what he wasn’t expecting to see that an unequivocal interest was sparked in Kysad.
With a grunt, Kysad seated himself in a chair while Loe loomed apprehensively over the gathered Abaasy. There was a stranger in their midst, an Ifrit, who stood several heads taller than the scrappy, decrepit leaders of the raiding party. His countenance appeared to be painted on, the stoicism offered by his features etched in dust and clay. Handsome in a delicate way, the Ifrit spoke first.
“What fortunate timing. Is that him?” When his lips moved, threads of molten magma dribbled down the plump center of his perpetual pout, threatening to trail destruction down the length of his chin and throat. Yet, as though to maintain the inconceivability of the situation, the magma only made it as far as his chin before it dissipated into nothing.
Beautiful, pitiful creature. Kysad felt equally enamored and disgusted with the Ifrit, though his face hid none of the latter sentiment as he answered with, “Speaking of me or of Loe?” Hitching his thumb, he pointed to the unmissable black mass swaying serpentine in the middle of the room. Loe almost brushed the ceiling decor with the crest of his cranium, though Kysad noted his companion was surprisingly respectful of Abaasy treasures. Bone crafted architecture, hair and skin based textiles, soul lacquered flooring; the list was seemingly endless. Loe appreciated the art of torture. As it had been explained to Kysad, there was little else to appreciate when one was constantly phasing in and out of the void between dimensions.
Loe scoffed in retort, haunting the chamber with the sound while the raiding party all but quaked in response. Cowardly Abaasy were everywhere because cowardly Abaasy lived longer than brazen ones. These shriveled old husks were demons of immeasurable age, half-decayed relics of a generation raised on the tales of Khu'chev and the reckoning he brought upon Ichor. Winged guardians struck from the skies, cities alight with the fire of Khu'chev’s rage. It was an epic told over thousands of verses, but even then, scholars both Abaasy and otherwise would memorize the tale to better understand the legend it was written for.
And Kysad was forever in awe of Khu'chev, not as the greatest hero of a cowardly race, but as a vessel in which such a cowardly race would seek refuge. This was their paradise, guts and glory included.
“No, Master Kysad, I did not mean Master Loe.”
Golden hues, calm in their presentation, directed themselves over the faces of the several raiding chiefs before they returned to the Ifrit. “And you are?”
“Ah, yes. Forgive me. I am not remiss, but rather lacking in focus. We of Jannah do not speak. To speak now, among your kind, is something I must practice.” His head, laden with a spill of flames, bowed sparingly before once more raising so Kysad always had the means to lock sights. “I am Jasa, a purveyor of knowledge and deeds, and I have come seeking your assistance in a matter of… immediate importance.” Lips forming a thin humorless line, Jasa stepped away from the old chieftains so the gap between him and Kysad wasn't such a large one.
“I imagine,” Kysad let slip with a throaty chuckle, “if it's important, it’s immediately important.” Slouching in his seat, one clawed set of digits raked against the skeletal design, teasing the rounded joints at the end of the arm of the chair. “You have the chiefs here to speak with. I’m not entirely sure how else you can be helped.”
“It is somewhere the chieftains cannot go, you see. They will not… ah, the word. To travel, to go in a way-”
“Venture?”
“Yes. They will not venture to the lands in need of their assistance.”
Kysad clicked his tongue and shot the collective of leaders a disappointing swing of his gaze. “What a surprise. Is the issue larger than defenseless women and children? If so, you should have expected to meet a wall.”
Loe, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until this point, twisted his long torso like that of a giant snake, his darkness coiling around where legs would have been if they had been attached to his torso at the time. “You are hunting something?”
“Someone,” the Ifrit corrected, not quite willing to look at Loe when he answered. “and they are powerful. More powerful than any demon I have ever met.” A pause. “Besides Khu'chev, of course.”
The collective all nodded at this notion, knowing well enough that there was likely no greater demon than the slumbering behemoth they currently occupied.
Kysad, feeling a bit despondent about the news, remarked, “Is it a white-haired lady demon with dainty little horns and a propensity for taking cock?” Raising his claws, he gestured at somewhere near five feet in height. “Yay high, attractive but incredibly reckless?”
To no one’s surprise, the Ifrit issued a series of quick nods. “Yes, yes! That is her! She came to Jannah several weeks ago and since then, she has caused nothing but turmoil and carnage in her wake! She is a nightmare!”
“Yeah, she is. A murderous she-bitch if I've ever known one.” Rising to stand, Kysad stomped heavily to where the taller Ifrit stood and clapped a hand over his shoulder. “She’s terrifying, I agree. She’s also considerably easier to deal with than most of the souls I’ve made bargains for. So, between the two of us- I think you came to the right demon for this particular job.”
Exhaling, Kysad appended, “And if I’m not enough, Loe is.”
“I would cherish Bress.” Still wound up like a rope, Loe hoisted his upper body like it weighed nothing, letting it rise and expand until it resembled the head of a cobra. “She is the most delicious evil I’ve ever tasted.”
Kysad, unphased, continued to explain with, “But this isn’t something I’ll do for free. Bress isn’t a prize for anyone but Loe, so you’ll need to incentivize this deal.”
“Well,” Jasa began slowly, searching for the words while the demons of the room stared him down. He leaned even closer to Kysad, secretive as he endeavored, “the riches of Jannah are endless, Master Kysad. If you have a price, the Djinn can pay for it. There is no friend quite like a Djinn.”
“I agree. Having a few friends on your side of the Crossroads would be nothing short of beneficial. That said, it sounds like it’s not you whom I should be speaking with, but whoever actually sent you. A salesman doesn’t become a messenger unless someone is desperate, right, Jasa?” Tugging gently at the Ifrit’s upper arm, Kysad began steering Jasa toward the door. “But we can discuss this in private. Loe will follow if he wants, but the elders needn’t remain when they have their own affairs to deal with.”
And without so much as a glance back at the chieftains, Kysad and Jasa departed the assemblage to head west through the membrane encased city.
Loe, as he often did, simply vanished.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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