This is a joint post between KethVale and Dorym

It takes place in the City of Brass after the Alabaster Tower was cleared.

Alaketh was in a good mood. His magical eyes, unaffected by the bright light and fires in the City of Brass, as he took to the streets. He was enjoying the splendor of the city as he made his way to the residence of his new infernal contact. She lived in a lavish apartment in a wealthy section of the city, its exterior formed from polished red and black marble. He approached the door made from petrified charred wood with black wrought iron hardware, etched with glyphs written in a long dead dialect of infernal. He spoke the words of entry Quesha had given him and several runes emanated a lurid green glow. The locks clicked and he pushed the door open. He stepped into a sitting area where leather covered furniture had been arranged around in a semicircle focused on a fireplace. Alaketh removed his shoes so as not to track soot onto the fur skin rugs covering the floor. He walked to the center of the room and waited.

Quesha appeared moments later. She was dressed in silks that were hardly modest and less than opaque revealing chainmail under garments. “Alaketh.” She cooed, “What a most pleasant surprise.” The Erinyes strutted toward her protege. She kissed him hard on the mouth biting his lip and drawing blood. She wiped the red droplets away with her finger then licked the blood clean. “Mmm.” She said in a sultry voice. “You taste of success. Delicious.”

Alaketh couldn’t help but smile. Quesha understood him, his attraction to violence, his desire to become more than he was. She had set him on a path to obtain power and didn’t share some of the judgemental opinions of his brothers. He was free to be himself, to torture, maim and murder. All she asked in return for her favor was souls, souls he was happy to deliver. He had collected some recently and was here to make his offering. There was of course the matter of his own contract and some fine print but he was unconcerned. Words and negotiations were Nazmyr’s problems not his. He reached into his pouch producing a half dozen smoke colored crystal flasks. “It seems a couple of these wretches conveniently forgot exactly what it was they bargained away. It was my pleasure to remind them and of course see to their payment as agreed. One actually begged for mercy…hoping to appeal to my compassion and humanity.” He laughed. “As if I cared that the rat had a family.”

Quesha wore a malevolent grin. “What does that make? Fifty two I believe?” She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Come. I think you should do the honors.” She led him down a hallway and into a room adorned with tapestries depicting a hellish landscape. A large double doored armoire carved from smooth ebon wood was centered on the back wall bearing the symbol of a diagonal scarlet trident piercing a golden halo. “The Lord of No Mercy will be pleased.” She waved her hand and green fire erupted from her fingertips, causing the trident to glow. The halo burst into flames and the doors swung open. She motioned to the cabinet. “You may place your gifts.”

There were 100 open boxes set in a grid ten by ten. Some contained flasks similar to his, others were empty. All were marked with names of individuals who had bargained away their souls. Alaketh took his time carefully reading the ancient infernal dialect making sure he placed the vials in their proper places.

Once he was finished, Quesha smiled. “Well done. Your grasp of the old tongue is improving.” She closed the cabinet doors and the seam between them sealed. She reached her talons behind his neck scraping the skin. “I believe a celebration is in order. She grasped him by the hand and walked back into the sitting area. “Sit. Get comfortable. I have a fine whiskey imported from Cania I think you will enjoy.” Quesha retrieved a silver platter, on it were 2 black crystal tumblers and a matching decanter as well as a scarlet ruby vial with a gold stopper and goblet free formed of lava rock. She took the decanter pouring a bluish liquid into a glass handing it to Alaketh. It smelled heavy of smoke and peat. She poured a second glass for herself. “Nothing is sacred. Everything is permitted.” She toasted then drank. Alaketh raised his glass and drank as well. The liquid seemed to burn at first but as it reached the back of his throat turned uncomfortably cold. Quesha smiled. “You like it? It’s a bit strong but has a lot of complexity. Reminds me of you.”

Alaketh grinned his approval, exhaled the cool air and said, “It’s excellent.”

Quesha placed her glass down and reached for the vial. She unstoppered it then emptied the contents into the goblet. Smoke began to rise from the chalice. She handed it to Alaketh saying, “The Cold Lord is impressed with your progress. He grants you this boon.”

Alaketh’s nose was met with a strong odor of sulphur and burnt wood. He looked into the cup and saw a golden swirl move about the scarlet liquid. He looked Quesha in the eye and drained the glass. He felt as if every cell in his body had suddenly burst into flame. The pain was incredible but he did not scream. He fought back the urge to cry out as the pain intensified then as suddenly as it started the agony was gone. He placed the goblet back on tray.

Quesha’s grin revealed long canine fangs. “Excellent. I have a gift for you too.” She stood dropping the silks she was wearing to the floor and walked toward the  archway leading to her bedroom.

She didn’t have to say a word. Alaketh drained the glass of whiskey. “A gift indeed.” He thought to himself and followed quickly behind her.