He strode grimly forward through the sullen crowds on the streets of Curst, anger and purpose lending energy to his steps. However, the air of menace the man projected mattered not one whit to the people around him; they all had similar hatreds and needs driving their own steps. The crowds parted for him only because of the half score of heavily armed city guards - vicious thugs under his direct command - that accompanied him. Even with this grudging parting of the mob, his progress was still entirely too slow for his taste. His mood, already foul, had worsened significantly by the time he arrived at his destination.

He angrily threw open the door of The Quartered Man, an alehouse in Curst that catered to the varied needs of the burg's various rulers-in-exile, and headed directly for the bar. At the moment, the barkeep was talking to a horribly scarred orc and getting yelled at in return. He couldn't understand the argument, as both were using the creature's native tongue, but he didn't care. He had an important appointment here today and he was not about to be polite about meeting it. With a quick hand signal, four of his personal guards seized the orc and threw him quite roughly out of the building. With the barkeep no longer busy, he stepped forward and demanded of the greasy little man, "Is my room ready?"

The proprietor, showing no signs of being upset by either the previous customer or his sudden removal, shook his head and replied, "I'm sorry Mr. Durkayle, it's not. We're quite full today and the gentleman in front of you is taking his time with-"

Durkayle lunged over the bar to grab the man by his lapels and pull him close to his face. Seething with anger, he hissed, "What do you mean 'it's not ready'? I am a Mover Four of the Harmonium, and when I ask for something to be ready, I expect it to be done!"

Unconcerned with the apparent danger of his situation, the barkeep ignored the man and glanced down at a guest book. "Actually, that would be ex-Mover Four, sir. As for the room, the gentleman in front of you is an ex- Emperor of some prime world. And since his former position outranks yours..."

With a disgusted growl, Durkayle dropped the barkeep and began to wipe his hands clean. "Very well, I'll wait. But when I am restored to my rightful position, I'll bring you up on charges for such insolence."

"Of course, sir. I'll make a note of that. Would this be before or after the ex-Chieftain you had thrown out regathers his mighty horde and lays waste to the entire city?"

It was a half-hour later when the barkeep approached Durkayle's table. "We've got the room cleaned up, sir. You are now able to have your appointment."

The ex-Harmonium got up and began stalking towards the stairs. "It's about time," he shot back over his shoulder at the tiefling.

"Oh, by the way. I think you'll find that the wait can be excused. We've managed to meet all of your requirements this time."

That brought Durkayle up short. He turned to look back at the barkeep. "All?" he asked with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Well, I can't promise an exact match, but she does have everything you've been asking for."

"If that's true, you just saved yourself a lengthy execution. If I like her, have that cleric standing by so I can make another appointment." With a gesture, he indicated that his guards should wait in the common room, and then Durkayle headed up the stairs to the second floor of the building. He quickly strode to the end of the hall, ignoring the cries of pleasure and pain that echoed from behind the doors he passed. Once there, he opened the door and eagerly entered the room.

He spared only a quick glance around the small chamber to make sure nothing was missing. A bed, with the required leather straps and iron chains, occupied one half of the room. A small table with a washbasin, rags, and a few bottles stood in the far corner. On the wall above it was mounted a series of pegs, from which hung whips, knives, and other instruments of cruelty. However, what fully caught his interest was sitting on a stool in the center of the room.

A female tiefling waited nervously in the room, dressed only in a nearly transparent, white silk shift and an equally sheer crimson veil. Durkayle didn't care about what she was wearing, only how she looked. Brilliant red hair, horns set high on the forehead, ivory skin, and - most importantly - a tail. The ex-Harmonium allowed himself an indulgent smile. The barkeep had indeed spoken true about meeting his requirements. Certainly, this tiefling had differences from whom he fantasized about in these appointments - the hair was straight and too short, the horns too large, the skin a bit too white, and the tail was more reptilian than he had in mind - but she was the closest he'd found in over a year. Yes, the price of raising her from the dead would definitely be worth it.

He gained another measure of pleasure when she jumped as he slammed the door shut. A fresh one, or at least, one new to the business, he thought. So much the better. "Well, bitch, do you know why you're here?" he demanded, with as much menace as he could put into his voice. She swallowed nervously and nodded. "Don't just sit there. Say it!"

"I'm here to follow your orders... master."

"That's correct. As of this moment, you are now a prisoner of Durkayle, Mover Four of the Harmonium. If you want to live, you will do exactly what I say and when I say it, without hesitation. Any delays or refusals will be met with severe punishment. Now, prisoner, my first order is to stand up and remove those stupid clothes."

The tiefling stood, and began to slowly undress, doing a little dance and trying to seductively tease him. Unfortunately for her, he was not one of her usual marks that was interested only in mundane things such as sex. In the blink of an eye, Durkayle backhanded her sharply across the face. "This is not a game!" he roared. "You will remove your clothing now and then you will stand there without moving or I will cut out an eye!" The threat stopped her hands moving towards her face to rub the rapidly forming bruise. The tiefling, obviously scared, nearly ripped off the shift and veil and stood naked in the center of the room, trembling.

An evil leer spread across Durkayle's face. "Better. Now, let's see exactly what you've brought me..." He stepped in close, and began running his hands roughly over her body. He smiled at the thrill of her nakedness, as well as at her fear. He could feel her muscles tense and sense the desire to pull away from him as he fondled her breasts and buttocks. He was slightly impressed that she didn't cry out, even when he plunged his hands between her thighs and fondled her sex. With a grunt, he threw her against the wall. "Good. Now that you've felt my hands, I'll have yours. You'll anoint me with those oils on the table. And I warn you... be gentle and don't miss a single spot, or you'll lose a hand."

As he undressed, he stared at the tiefling while she carefully moved the table and its contents closer to the bed. He especially enjoyed the way she rubbed at the bruises he'd already given her when her back was turned to him. Oh yes, this one will definitely fulfill my dreams tonight. After shedding the last of his clothing, he crossed the room in two steps and roughly spun her around to face him. He thought he saw a hint of desire in her eyes when she glanced down at his manhood before staring directly into his face. So, the whore still wants it, eh? Good, it means I'll enjoy breaking this bitch even more. "So, bitch. What do you think of me now?"

The girl swallowed nervously again, then found her voice. Despite the signs of fear betrayed by her twitching tail, her voice sounded steady, but still appropriately meek. "I... think you are strong and powerful, master. It would... please me to rub these oils on your body."

Satisfied with her answer, he nodded and lay down on the bed. "You may begin, slave."

Despite himself, he began to relax as she started her ministrations on his chest. She was definitely good. Durkayle found himself contemplating buying her outright from the establishment; instead of raising her, he might instead pay to have some spellslinger do a little shape shifting on her. It shouldn't cost as much since she was so close to the ideal already...

He was so lost in his fantasies that he almost didn't hear her when she said, "You seem tense, master. If a humble prisoner might speak, may I suggest you tell me what troubles you?"

The question surprised him. She dares to speak without being spoken to? I'll have to punish her for that. Yet... he found himself considering her words. What could it hurt? She was paid to discretely serve the needs of people like him; besides, he was considering killing her anyway. "Very well, prisoner, I will tell you."

"You bother me. Or rather, who you are supposed to be bothers me. I was wrongfully stripped of my rank and kicked out of my faction because of a tainted tiefer like you. She's a criminal mastermind and part of those chaos- infested, law breaking, Indeps. She engineered my downfall and single-handedly thwarted my plans to make Sigil safe for those who've embraced the glorious Harmonium way of life. I plan to capture her, bring her to justice, and regain my place within the Harmonium. I have sworn vengeance against this tiefling - Lilah, the Tail."

"But how can you catch her if you are here? Surely she isn't in Curst?"

Durkayle smiled. He would at least show this tiefling how clever he was, how he had learned since his downfall. "No. This rancid little burg is only a temporary base of operations. I have agents scouring the planes for her. And, just recently, they found her." His voice caught as her hands, having finished with his arms and chest, embraced his now erect manhood.

"Really, master? Where did they find her? Please tell me. I need to be impressed by your cleverness."

Caught up in the pleasure of her motions and the delusions of fulfilling his desires against Lilah the Indep, he missed the strange tone the whore's voice now held. He did not hear the eagerness in it, nor the predatory tone which matched his own. Instead, he found himself telling her the secret he'd treasured for the past month while trying to craft an appropriate measure of revenge against his hated enemy. "She's in Tradegate. There's an inn there where she's staying, with an older tiefling who looks very much like her. A sister perhaps. My agents are observing her every move, waiting for me to give the word to go in and capture her. It's a glorious opportunity. I need only decide on how to take my revenge."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the tiefling hissed in pleasure and triumph and then leaped on top of him, roughly and forcibly taking his erection inside her. Before he could say anything about her breaking her role, she closed one hand around his throat, simultaneously squeezing and forcing him down against the bed with inhuman strength. As he ineffectually tried to loosen her grip or break her arm, the tiefling calmly picked up a small, open bottle of oil from beside the bed and casually poured the contents onto his chest. Immediately, all of his muscles seized up, rendering him immobile. Unable to move, he couldn't even scream as saw and felt his flesh begin to rot and putrefy before his eyes.

Then, the tiefling's shape began to change. The horns and tail disappeared, the hair lengthened and became more full. The last thing he saw before pain overwhelmed him was a large pair of reptilian, crimson wings spreading from the succubus' back.

"Now then, Mortal-Prey-Pawn Durkayle, ex-Mover Four of the Harmonium. Let's discuss how you're going to get your revenge..."