It was a dark and almost moonless night in the forests of eastern Ez'Efess. The scarce light barely managed to speckle the ground between the leaves of the trees. Through the dimness a robed and hurried man stumbled his way through the wood, the smell of rotting leaves pushed into the air as he kicked up the underbrush. It was well past midnight and treading into the wee hours of the morning as the cloaked person rummaged onwards, gasping as he moved. The large sleeves of his outfit caught on the branches of young trees as he rushed by; it was not as stealthy an endeavor as he would have liked. Carrying with him a massive leather-bound book on a chain, the figure hurried into the mouth of an awaiting cave. Faint shimmering reflected off the walls as inside a sea of tiny candles lit the spectacle that was about to be performed. Sigils, red and festered, were swirling on the floor of the cave surrounding a central dais. The man in the robe quickly strode atop the dais and slammed the book on the cold stone. The sound thundered through the entire cave, bouncing off the walls like an opening applause from an eager audience for what was about to take place.

He flung the book open and flitted through the pages. Satisfied with the preparations, he reached a slender arm deep into his robe and produced a light blue crystal. It was seated in his palm as he read from the text, murmuring at first, but gradually getting louder: “I call upon thee, o' Sephos, he who tells of the epochs, he who has given me wisdom in a world of lies. I pray to thee, give up thine spirit and lend me your blessings!”

A shape began to appear from the ruddy vapors of the sigils below. Candles flickered, some blowing out, as a strange wind trickled through the air. The man stood taller, “I command thee, come forth! Take form in this world and break the chains of your damnation with the spirit of your conjurer!”

The vapors condensed, forming a solid human-esque shape. Movement to the side of the circle of candles caught the robed man’s attention, “Now, Corona! Grant him your power!” At his command a bovine demoness stepped into the light, golden eyes fixated on the swirling, human-shaped fog. Her body began to seethe a thick red dust that converged with it. The two mingled and the vapor became denser, more liquid, as the figure before them became defined in the trembling light. “Yes! Come forth, my servant!” the man cried.

A moan escaped the oily summoned abomination. Long and painful, it turned into a shriek. The creature’s body collapsed into itself. The swirling of its liquid body ceased and it dripped onto the floor of the cave until it was nothing but a puddle. The man in the robe watched, saying nothing until every last drop evaporated away before them like boiling tar.

“I don’t think it worked,” he said at last.

“An astute observation, master,” responded his demonic assistant.

“Hit the lights.”

She grabbed a candle and began lighting several oil lamps in the cavernous room. The man lowered his robe, revealing an expression of disappointment. His olive skin glistened from the sweat and exertion of the ritual. Dropping off the dais he began pacing about, idly scanning the floor. As the last lamp was lit his assistant replaced the candle, waiting for him to finish his inspection. At last he stopped, “All the sigils are correct, I don’t get it what went wrong…”

“Perhaps we need to try a lesser demon. You are pretty new at this,” the demoness suggested.

“Sephos isn’t exactly a fiendish nightmare, Corona, he’s the custodian of folklore. I mean he resides on the second circle of Hell. Even YOU came from deeper than that!”

The demoness frowned and stomped her hoofed foot on the floor of the cave, “Thanks, Jacht.”

“That’s master Jacht to you. Geez, what is this? I can’t even command a lowly succubus anymore?”

“I’m sorry I’m not a hellknight or a general of an entire battalion of fiendish monstrosities all willing to do you ridiculous bidding, master,” she snapped.

He turned around, glossy-eyed, and hugged her awkwardly, “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.”

She pushed him off and began straightening her tight leather armor, unbunching the red fur her master managed to rub the wrong way. Jacht made his way to the back of the cave where there were dozens of bottles and flasks stacked on makeshift shelves. Rummaging through them he produced a flask smudged with what was unmistakably blood. Inside it was almost empty. He raised it in the air and asked, “Is this all the virgin blood we have left?”

“If that’s the flask on the left then yes,” she replied, stretching her wings a bit.

“Damn it, we need to find more virgins.”

“That’s gonna be kinda hard to do, Jacht, sir” Corona said, “You’ve asked me to help power your rituals so much I’ve had to tap just about every guy and girl in the town.”

“Really? I could have sworn there were more virgins around.”

“I got the last one last night.”

Jacht turned back to the array of bottles and flasks, “Without that blood I can’t make anymore sigils…” he let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Does this mean I might actually get a night off?” Corona asked skeptically.

Jacht ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, thinking intensely. Finally he replied, “I think you’re right, Corona. We need to take a break and figure out what’s causing all these summonings to fizzle.”

“A lack of energy?” she asked, “That’s what you seemed to think last time.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t know. I think it’s something more, I mean, I’ve been a warlock for how long now?”

“Three years.”

“Three years! I should have a veritable army of imps and hobgoblins and, what are those things… with the wings and the knives for teeth?” he asked, flapping his arms to imitate wings.

“We just always called them flying imps.”

“Yeah but what’s their real name? Like, I know ‘flying imps’ isn’t the technical term.”

“I forget.”

“Well, whatever. Those things. I need them, but I can’t have them because I need more high-caliber demons to control them!” Jacht took a seat on the dais and picked up the book. He looked at the spell instructions again, double and triple checking his formulas and rituals. “We DO have enough energy… and everything looks correct. The problem must be on the other end.”

Corona eyed her master sarcastically, “What, like the masters of Hell don’t want their minions unleashed on the succulent, energy-rich masses of humanity?”

Jacht pondered this a moment, “Hmm… That’s a good guess but it sounds a little unlikely.” He stroked his chin a bit before thinking out loud, “Maybe it’s some kind of interference. If the leyline flowing out of Hell is distorted the demons wouldn’t be able to find their way during the summoning.”

“That’s… actually an idea,” Corona said, a little surprised at his cognition.

“An idea with dire implications, my scantily-clad compadre.” Corona shifted uneasily in her exposing armor as he spoke, “If it is interference it’s been going on for some years now, getting worse as time goes on. And if it’s on our end… those damned priests!” Jacht jumped to his feet, the tome in his lap spilling onto the floor.

“It’s just an idea,” Corona said with ambivalence, “One I wouldn’t put past the priests of the Order of the Pigeon, granted, but don’t jump to conclusions, Jacht.”

“What?!”

Corona shrank a bit, “umm… master?”

Jacht picked up his tome, shaking the dust from its pages, “There’s only one way to find out what’s going on. We need to trace the leyline back to the source and figure out what’s distorting its power. If it is those priests... I’ll sacrifice their bishops on their own bloody alters.”

“Master, I LOVE it when you get all vengeful!” Corona squealed, twirling her black hair around one of her horns. Jacht walked back to the shelves and started putting flasks away in his deep pockets as a wave of clarity washed over Corona, “Um… wait, Jacht, sir? You don’t mean going all the way to the gates of Hell, right?”

“Of course I do! If it comes to that, anyway,” came the reply.

“But… no mortal has ever returned from the gates of Hell. Not even your old master, Basil the Blackened.”

Jacht looked unperturbed, “Is that where Basil went? Maybe we’ll run into him. Anyway, just because no one has ever returned doesn’t mean the gates of Hell are dangerous, Corona. Maybe they’re just so awesome no one ever wants to leave!” He looked up, his robes rattling from the flasks and bottles within, “and since when do you care about my welfare, anyway?”

Corona flicked her pointed tail with anxiety, “Since I realized you could be my last ticket out of Hell. If I don’t suffer you as my master and the leyline is in disarray I might never be summoned again!”

Jacht was ready to reply with a witty quip but at that moment they both turned to the cave tunnel as a large fuzzy body entered the room. Both of them stood completely still as the creature raised itself on its hind legs, almost touching the ceiling. It towered over them, growling at the sinister intruders.

“Corona, kill it!” Jacht whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

She replied in a similar manner, “What!? I can’t kill that thing! You’re the warlock, you kill it!”

The bear lunged at Corona but she jumped out of the way, hitting the stone floor and scrambling to her hooves. It chased after her, knocking over the arrays of candles with its enormous body. Jacht readied himself as she wheeled around and came towards him.

“Open… fire!” he yelled, gesturing with his hand. A spurt of flame shot from his arm and hit the bear square in the face. Roaring in pain it collapsed on the floor of the cave, reeling for a moment as it tried to see. “Book it, Corona!” Jacht yelled as he darted towards the exit, his heavy robes flowing behind with his demoness in toe. They could hear the bear behind them as they emerged into the scant moonlight. Jacht threw a vial from his robes at the entrance of the cave as the bear charged them again. It shattered, creating a noxious plume. Jacht and Corona started into the forest as the bear ran into the thick cloud enveloping the cave entrance. Both of them looked behind to see the bear retreating from the corrosive toxin back into its apparent lair.

“You picked a BEAR CAVE for our summoning ritual!?” Corona screamed. A roar came from the cave and the two returned to running for their lives.

“I didn’t KNOW it was a bear cave,” Jacht said between breaths, “It’s not like there was a sign on it saying, ‘The Bear Residence’ or something.”

The two of them entered a clearing in the woods. The bear couldn’t be heard anymore so they took this moment to catch their breath. Corona unfurled her bat-like wings and sat on the ground, panting and grumbling to herself. She wrapped them around her body like a blanket, “Did you at least manage to save the summoning tome?”

“Just barely,” Jacht replied with a grin, pulling the old book from his robes. Corona winced in physical pain at the terrible pun.

Jacht smiled, “What’s the matter? You look grizzly, Corona!”

“Stop it! Ugh!” she rolled onto the ground, holding her floppy, bovine ears with her hands.

“Hahaha, It must be unBEARable for you!”

“Ahh! For the love of Tiamat!”

Jacht was in hysterics, “Okay! Hahaha, man, your wound tonight!”

“I… WE were just chased by a grizzly!” she protested, her yellow eyes piercing him.

“Yeah, but we survived! And anyway, grizzly bears aren’t our biggest concern right now. Finding whatever’s… whoever is altering the leyline is.” With that, Jacht became a bit more serious, “I’m going to need to stop in town to get supplies, you should make yourself scarce in the meantime. I don’t want to attract any unwanted attention.”

Corona sat up, relieved, “Does this mean I’m dismissed, master?”

“Yes, I’ll let you know when I’m ready to get going.”

Without another word the demoness disappeared into the shadows, back to the realm of Hell. Jacht wandered into the forest in the general direction of civilization.