The Devil went down to Sot’er. He said it with a straight face, explaining to me, in the simplest terms he knew how, why his village stopped dying and started recovering. He frowned. He must have seen disbelief on my face, or cynicism. There have been devils, even demons, in the Wild Coast of late, more than usual, but which one would have set up shop in a little village on the fringe of the Shadereach? And then suddenly left his little kingdom of misery? Panavra had 500 and more, he tells me, before the devil came along, all smiles and coins. Then the dying began and the blame was thrown around and the blood flowed in the streets. Darkness ruled the night with twin blades in its depths. When we all figured out it was him, the wizard woman showed up with her commission and he took off in the night. She stayed a day, poked around a bunch and then told us he was a devil and had packed it off to Sot’er, as far as she could figure. Maybe Pyt’enrul. She headed off on what she said was his trail. West. Downhill. Then the elves came. Drow and their servants, bolstered with great cats and orcs. Nearly wiped us out. But she showed up and helped turn the tide again. Not long after, a contingent of guard showed up to fortify the village against future attacks. The devils had all gone and life, gloomy from loss, could look forward again to peace and growth. At least, for a while.
~Harka’an Bali’inti, for the Pyt’enrul Public Press.