Down the main street scurries the small figure, before its form fades from view. The invisible creature takes flight, soaring through the air and gliding toward a large home. It circles around the back, descending into the cellar behind the house and coming to an iron door. The figure knocks softly on the door, and it opens with a rusty whine. They enter, moving quickly toward a half elf with a hand on a lever.

"Pleesh-" Comes the soft cry from a rack the lever is attached to. A human man lays splayed out across it, wrists and ankles bound tight, his chest exposed. Blood drips from the man's nose, one tooth missing. The half-elf pulls the lever, and the figure giggles as the human screams. "What news do you have, Unduriel?"

The figure grins, skittering up to stand on the rack. "The son has returned. With friends, but no doubt they are nothing compared to you, Master Ondra."

"So he's back. Pity. I'd hoped to have this problem settled before then. Of course, finding good help is...difficult. There was no trace left to lead them back to me?"

"None, sir. Aside from this one-" The creature jabs a clawed finger into the bound man's leg, eliciting a wince. "-the others will not be found." The little figure giggles, stepping into the light of a torch burning along the wall. Small, nearly a foot tall, the red-skinned creature unfurls its leathery wings to stretch them out. A long, spindly tail uncurls from its form, the pointed stinger on the end running along the human man's exposed stomach teasingly. It strokes its tiny goatee, pointing a hand toward the door. "The other beings with him, they are not like the villagers." Beady yellow eyes turn to face Ondra, eyeing him curiously for a response.

"How so?" Ondra lets go of the lever and sits down in a wooden chair, flicking his wrist. The door closes, the lock snapping tightly shut.

"A kin-blood, strong of build and with a big sword. I did not like the look of this blade. A darkling who seemed quite dainty, probably another weaver but she had an air about her I did not like either. The third was a small man, halfling I think, and he had a sneaky way to him."

"Well, with the power our lord has granted me, it's highly unlikely they'll prove any sort of threat. I'd best let him know, though." Ondra sits back, closing his eyes. Unduriel watches intently; contact with their master is rare, but he enjoys that moment of connection. The air grows warm around them, then blazing hot. Ondra begins to sweat within seconds, trying not to gag at the smell of sulfur entering his nostrils. "My Lord, I have news. The Ravenwood son has returned, and with him is a trio of unknowns; I believe he has brought them here to stop our plans."

A voice fills Ondra's mind, like claws scraping against the inside of his skull. It whispers in a hiss, the half-elf almost feeling the tongue of his master dancing along his ear. "They are of no concern to us. If the threat becomes too great, we will simply revise the plan and start again. For now, proceed as instructed. Do not contact me again until you have more important news."

The room cools, the sulfur scent dissipating and Ondra sits up with a sigh. "Very well...See that you confirm no trace was left of those we sent."

"What of the remainder?" The imp turns to the bound man, eyes flashing with delight.

"You haven't eaten today. Feast as you like. I'm not going to get anything else out of this anyway. I will make ready to meet our enemies. They'll surely approach first, and I need to dress appropriately." The gambeson adorning his body shifts and changes, forming itself into a well tailored shirt, trousers, boots, and gloves. The door unlocks and he steps out. "Do make it quick this time."

As the door shuts behind him and locks back into place, the imp advances on the bound man, licking his lips with teeth glinting in the torchlight. No one hears him crying for help before his screams are silenced.