A Word With Friends
I was tagged by @becausedragonage!
Gelid (Adj)
icy, extremely cold; frozen
Jumped fandoms (sorry Dawn) and went with BG3 for this!
1491 DR, Year of the Scarlet Witch. Two days north of Baldur's Gate.
"Lockpicks?"
"Check. Diamond dust?"
"Check. Subplanar focus?"
Gortash thumbed through the crumpled pages one more time. Singular. Irreplaceable. A small price to pay. "Check."
An imp shrilled behind him, dragging several feet of knitting on the ground. "Master! Don't forget your tail cozy!"
"Thank you, Sceleritas."
Gortash scrawled the last sigil onto the basement floor and sat back on his heels. "You look ridiculous. What dread scion of the end of everything wears pompoms?"
Jingrui ignored him in favor of doing up the laces behind the spines of their tail. Pink pompoms sprouted along the length of the cozy like boils. "The mountains of Mephistar will make the coldest reach of Icewind Dale seem as a hot spring. Looks are immaterial. Button your coat."
"Bonecloak's elemental balm -"
"Would scarcely see you through a Luskan midwinter. We are going to hell, little thief. I presume you would like to come back." They stepped around the gate and scruffed Gortash by the fur collar of his overcoat. With their other hand, they traced arcane sigils in the air over his increasing objections. "Pateris. Ocior. Indēprēnsum." They tapped the heel of their hand against his forehead, and let a veil of nondetection wash over him.
Gortash scrambled to his feet and coughed up a cloud of diamond dust. "That, my dear assassin, was uncalled for." He did up his buttons with a piqued expression.
"All of this was your idea," Jingrui replied, unmoved. "If you would prefer to dispel my efforts and let a horde of baatezu snap off your feet, it breaks no oath of mine. Are we ready?"
"Naturally." He picked up a single stick of smoldering incense and swept into a deep mocking bow. "After you."
One by one, imp, Bhaalspawn, and man stepped into the center of the chalk circle. Gortash held the incense over the letter, and with one sigh of regret, let it fall. The parchment caught like tinder. The ground shattered beneath them. And with a roar, the gelid maw of Mephistar swallowed the three whole.
