The shadowy cavern echoed to the sharp steps of the bipedal being with cloven feet. Burning on the cool floor behind him were the remains of the yellow skin he doffed. With the hind quarters of a midnight mountain goat and the torso of an intensely toned man, he held out his clawed digits and made an abyssal gesture.
Eight feet tall it stood. The behemoth of multi-color red, orange, and yellow-scaled hide stood relaxed on its massively stout legs. The hag, controlled by some infernal spell, vocalized his words, which his spoke with a toothless grin.
"Back so soon, Vex?"
"Onslaugher, there has been a change in plans." His rich, decadent voice relished every syllable as if the words were coated in mint chocolate. "Jaques the Rogue must die. I trust you won't leave any..."
His enormous belly shook when he laughed. "Blood?"
"Residue." Vex crossed his arm across his bare chest to caress his elbow and his finely manicured right claws stroked his angular, cleft chin. "I will not allow the locals to be frightened by the death of an insignificant criminal. It could rile up the populace, and lead to other unwanted attention. I surmise, this little endeavor should pose you little difficulty."
"True. What about his little gang or riff-raffs? Are they fair game?" Onslaugher rubbed his calloused hands together, and as his mouth parted a thick tongue with a smiling face on it slurped across his pebbled lips. His face was truly disgusting the happier his expression became, a collage of bumps, stapled scars, and scales on a lumpy bald head.
Vex gestured with his hand and affirmed, "Absolutely. They would only rouse suspicion if their band leader were to suddenly disappear."
A growling permeated from Onslaughter's vast abdomen, "Good, because I'm so hungry I could eat a village."
Casually, Vex turned his back upon the greater being and walked over to the alchemy laboratory situated behind the old crone, He stopped momentarily to dance his fingers along her unique devil-horns cresting back from her forehead. From off the nearby counter he plucked an hourglass. He fondled it playfully for a moment and then slammed it down on the table as he faced Onslaughter with a coy smile. "Thirty minutes. Don't dilly dally, or you'll be sorry."
With a snap of his fingers, the heavy form flew upward weightlessly with small bat-like wings.
The vision faded, and the old crone seemed to regain consciousness. Her gray eyes were occluded like the crystal sphere in her hands.
She rasped as she inquired, "Will that be all, Master?"
"Yes, you have done excellently, Omah. Now that we are capable of communing with my cousins in the Oblivion Planes, there is the possibility that we may pique the attention of others with similar capabilities. Keep your wards active. If any Aeyrim manage to infiltrate our activities, they will only make things more difficult."
She nodded her head, and her white mass of snarled hair dangled over her shoulder and to the stone floor.
"Sir, is something wrong?"
Reyneth released his metal guantlet from his right hand, and swept aside the fresh dirt from the roadway. An imprint. Too big for a footprint. Dust rose into the air and the young captain sneezed.
"Excuse me, Sir," the captain apologized.
"Brimestone," he whispered to himself.
"What was that, Sir?"
"Nothing, Sir Harold. You go ahead, I'll be along shortly."
Sir Harold waved the troop of knights back up the road towards The Citidel.
Sir Reyneth remained very still as he surveyed his surroundings. The shadow passing across the setting sun did not escape his notice.
