Eri prods the imp with her quarter staff and snarls “Speak Common!”
[In Infernal] “I know what she says, but I cannot find that tongue! Make her stop!!”
Ouriana gently reaches out and wraps her clawed fingers around the staff firmly, just to stop the prodding. “He cannot, but I will gladly translate.” Eri meets Ouriana’s eyes, “… Very well…”
[In Infernal] “What more does the scaly one want? I tell you of Beghazul, and he will slay me! I do not, you will slay me!”
Ouriana turns back to the imp, continuing to speak in Common. “We are not going to kill you, so be silent!” She looks back to her new friend. “I have a mind to meet his master, what say you?” Her red eyes glistening with curiosity.
“I agree, I dislike being considered dinner and want to set the record straight.”
[In Infernal] “Beghazul is far away! I can not take you to him! Please, release me and let me leave! The scale-ed one frightens me!”
Ouriana looks down at the Imp, and speaking in a deep, menacing growl: [In Infernal] “Tell me where I can find your Master.” Her red eyes flash, seeming to catch on fire and burning as bright as the Nine Hells. The wind begins to pick up, as though the world was trembling before her.
The fear in his eyes holds for a few seconds before subsiding and being overtaken by an acceptance and resignation. A sadness settles in.
[In Infernal] “… Beghazul resides deep in the hells beneath! He uses servants like us to do his bidding! If you choose to pursue him, you will – ARGHK!” He seems to choke on something, and falls suddenly dead. A dark shadow seems to linger above him, as big as a barn door. It’s only noticed as it moves away and disappears. The evening wind blows a little harder now, a chill cutting to the bone.
Ouriana takes a deep breath and shakes her head, the burning in her eyes disappearing as she stands “Well… Fuck!” She looks over to the odd Dragonborn and sticks her hand out. “Ouriana Fletcher,” she says, her features transforming with a friendly grin.
“Erimeyoma.” The Dragonborn replies, shaking Ouriana’s hand, “What did the Imp say? Why was it here exactly, and where is it’s master?”
These questions are interrupted before they can be answered. A crack of straining wood alerts the pair to the fact that a child is watching from the roof of the tackle shop. He gasps audibly upon being spotted, and hides behind the lip of the roof. The empty house behind them gives its last few creaks, fully settled in after the odd events.
What do you do?