Tipus walked down the avenue deep in thought. The last remnants of twilight had faded from the sky and the stars were shining bright on a moonless night. Most of the townsfolk were either home or besotting themselves at one of Amber’s several public houses and the streets were fairly quiet. Autumn was coming on, and between the cold wind and the clear skies it would be especially chilly tonight. He adjusted the collar of his impeccably tailored robes and considered that perhaps it was time to unpack his winter wardrobe.
The nightly strolls had become an enjoyable habit, and it was good to stretch his legs after a long day. But today had not been as productive as he wanted, nor the past week, and that was a concern. He’d been guided to Amber to find converts, and the Prince of Law did not suffer the failures of his emissaries lightly. As he pondered this he heard angry voices from the alley he was passing. Curious, he walked towards the disturbance and found an amusing sight; four thugs seemingly robbing a fifth. They all looked desperate and half starved, but perhaps such as these would prove worthy to serve.
The victim scurried off as he stepped out of the alley into a small open area. To the remaining four he chuckled, smiled, and spread his arms wide. “Although you play the part of criminals, you still are blessed today, for the First One demands your fealty and obeisance. Kneel and be glad!” The fortunate fools looked at his fine clothes and jewelry and Tipus could tell they had something else in mind. “Look at this, boys” said the largest one while fingering an axe, “Just when we thought we’d be spending a cold night out-of-doors, here is this nice man come to bless us with all his money.” His lips parted, revealing several ugly gaps in his smile as the gang moved to surround him.
“Perhaps they need a demonstration of my sincerity” he thought. He began to invoke the power that would cow these scum into obedience when the axe man sprung forward and swung his weapon. The axe turned on the steel links under his robe but it still hurt. Tipus gritted his teeth and finished his divine spell, adding anger to his fervor as he completed his prayer. The little courtyard darkened, a whiff of brimstone scented the air, and then his god’s favor became manifest.
Three lemures now stood amongst his attackers. The least of devils, barely worthy of the name. They were of human shape and size but they had no features to call their own. They looked more like unmolded clay, although on instinct their faces would often try to reflect the faces of those in front of them. These were the tortured souls of those who failed to adequately serve Asmodeus’ will, and they teamed in the hells in countless numbers. A pathetic fate, but they have their uses.
The lemures tore into the thieves with the mindless need of insects worrying a rotted corpse. The thieves fought back, albeit fruitlessly considering their poorly crafted weapons. Lemures were hard to injure unless one employed silver or holy weapons against them. Of course, like all devils they were completely immune to fire and poison. Even cold- or acid-based spells barely bothered them. And, considering how lemures were only slightly more than thoughtless automatons, they couldn’t be influenced by mind magic, either. They were susceptible to lightning and electricity, but even so it was both amazing and humbling to consider the strength of even the least of Asmodeus’ creations.
One of the thugs soon fell under a lemure’s fists. Another tried to run, but was hit in the back of the head when he turned, so he went down as well. The last two stood back to back as the devils closed in. Tipus commanded them to wait. “Now you have seen what it is to defy the will of the great Asmodeus. Now is your time to serve and believe. Learn and sacrifice and have faith, and reap the rewards of your obedience.” He gestured toward the ground and drew a mace from within his robes. It was a terrible weapon to behold; black iron with flanges and spell-wrought with the power of his faith. Now they finally understood, and they knelt before him.
He stepped towards them, placed his hand on his own bruised ribs and whispered a prayer. The fire of hell coursed through him and he could feel the injury being repaired through the heat and pain. He raised the mace high and said “Accept this sacrifice, almighty Lord of Hell. We beg you to deem it worthy.” He swung it down on the man with the axe, staving in his skull. Soon a brand new lemure would be painfully writhing in hell. To the last man, who was now trembling in a most satisfying way, he said “Rise, and follow. The sacrifice is accepted. Keep the lessons of this night in your heart always.” The forms of the lemures began to dissipate with the end of the summoning, blowing away in the cold night air as Tipus retuned down the alley with his prize in tow.