The cavern was vast, lit up by the dim glow of phosphorous crystals and sickly green flames... Bas-reliefs and arcane symbols flanked the passage downwards; rough-hewn stone steps along the rim, leading to a large door. The fetid air was tinged with smoke, and full of the beating of drums and faint, shrieking voices. Occasionally a small procession would make its way down --humans, or human-like- flanked by colourful figures with large, leathery wings. No chains, no threats. No reason to follow into the dark unknown. And yet still they went.
"Are you sure he's okay?" Robin said, peering over the ridge of stalagmites and into the cavern below. He clutched his wooden staff tightly against his plain white robes.
"It wouldn't be the first time Falkis has left us waiting," Sigmund replied. He'd forgone his usual bright and shiny plate-mail in favour of a drab brown brigandine, his luxuriously long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail.
"I-I see..." Robin fiddled with the hem of his mantle. He'd not been travelling with the group for long, but so far only one of them had proven to be welcoming of the tiny, timid cleric. Falkis seemed to loathe him, and Sigmund was kind and tolerant enough, but it was clear Robin was walking the thin line between weak-link and liability. The last of their party appreciated him for altogether different reasons...
"Don't fret, Robin dear," Lucille said, shuffling closer behind him, "He can take care of himself. Worst comes to worst, he'll just vanish off back to the Inn."
Robin squeaked. Unlike most elves, who were lithe and androgynous, Lucille's body was voluptuous and very obviously feminine. Just being around her turned his pale, freckled cheeks as red as his hair.
"Don't tease the boy so much," Sigmund sighed.
"I'm just trying to make the poor dear comfortable," She said, "If he wants me to stop, he need only ask."
Comfortable was not how Robin would describe it; he was small, and that put his head at precisely the wrong place on her chest. He mumbled something, looking down and trying not to think too hard about where her hands were gently brushing along.
"What was that?" She asked.
"I-I was just worried about him, i-is all," Robin said, "We can fight if we get attacked, but if something happens to him..."
"I trust him and his shadow magic. And he knows if anything goes wrong..." Sigmund drummed his fingers along the handle of his longsword, "He has somewhere safe to go."
"But what if he's been captured? E-even he couldn't handle so many demons by himself."
"You speak as if my capture was ever an option," Came the distinctively low and archaic voice of their devilspawn companion. It was still hard to see him; the only colours on his body were the red of his skin and the purple of his scarf, both of which were hidden by beneath his large, black coat and the thin curls of dark smoke.
"You took your time," Sigmund said.
"My apologies. It would seem our foes are more vigilant than anticipated. Whatever it is they have gathered for must be of the utmost importance."
"You weren't able to find out what it was?"
"The door is barred, only opened for one of their processions. From my vantage point, I could only see that it hides another cave, deeper and darker than even this."
"That's not much to go on," Sigmund scratched his chin, "I'd prefer to know what we were getting into first, but I don't think we can spend too much time planning. The longer we wait, the closer they get to finishing... whatever it is."
"We're all right behind you, Sigmund," Lucille said, "Is there anything else you can tell us?"
"There is one thing. Something our healer can perhaps provide assistance with," Falkis glanced at Robin, "You do have knowledge of those that dwell in the abyss, correct?"
"I-I... I studied some of them and the monastery..." Robin stammered.
"Hmph. That shall have to suffice," Falkis said, "Very well... There is a creature; a thing formed of a mass of squirming tentacles and eyes. The demons present the slaves before it, and soon after they stand and follow the vile abyssal spawn willingly into the depths of their profane temple. I do not know what compels them, but I suspect some vile magic is at play."
"Does that sound familiar to you, Robin?" Sigmund asked.
"I-I don't know what they're called..." Robin said, trembling as he tried to recall what little info he'd gleaned from ancient codices. "But I have heard of them. They're thoughtless beasts, said to be made by demons to ensnare mortal minds."
"Like Lilits? Succubi?"
"In a way... b-but Lilits prey on a creature's desire and slowly corrupt them. These things just... look at you and drain everything away until you're nothing but an obedient servant."
"A useful tool in any arsenal," Falkis said. He crossed his arms and leant further into the shadows of the cave, "But its presence here suggests that these fiends seek to build a vast number of thralls, and quickly."
"An army?" Sigmund asked, his brow furrowed.
