tridevil

“It feels like an eon ago. We visited the address. What did that wretch call herself? Preex Tikhal? There was not much left of them when we arrived, poor soul. This thing that they’d created was standing over the body. This one devil, with a shattered mask. It just... stood there. Motionless and silent.
After an eon, it spoke. “Thieving Devil Multiplicity is We.” The fangs on one side grimaced while the rest of its lips remained pursed. “Our boss is no more, but we remain. What is your task?”
I didn’t know what to think. I’d heard many compliments about this so-called ‘thief agency’. When it offered devils-for-hire, I assumed it had several in its stable, not one broken-looking, mongrel; part crimson, part cerulean, part pallid.

“Gawkstare nevermore.” The other side gnarled, baring its ivory. “No pay, no work.”

Trembling, I replied; “I seek a Thief quieter than the Cats of Hell 48, a Warrior that can juggle several oxen and a Scout that can spot vermin from six and twenty miles. Which of these are you?”

“Coinhue-dependant, wormflesh.” It spat a ichor glob to the side in mockery at my request, but as I reached out of my purse and presented it with an advance of three thousand Rose Guilders.

A grumbling series of murmurs ensued, as if each splinter of its triplicated identity was consumed by indecision before the beast answered as one.

“Yes.”

- Cheddarly, E. (2593 S.C.) Memoires of Esmé Cheddarly, ex-Scholar of the Crimson District, Rayuba (Vol. 4)
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