You’re currently resting peacefully at night in your small hut in the middle of the cold, snow-draped forest, undisturbed and in complete serenity.

SLAM SLAM SLAM

You jolt to consciousness when a loud banging echoes through the hut. The ruckus is so sudden and forceful that you nearly tumble out of your meager bed, but instead you get up and walk out of your room to check on what the fuck that was. Looking out the window, it is someone very clearly trying to slam open your door, but failing miserably at the task...

As you slam open the creaky wooden door, squinting against the bright light of a lantern, your eyes fall upon an unexpected sight - a short tiefling lays on her back before you, her horns poking out from under a mop of unruly brown hair. She’s clad in rather oversized garments, pulling her pants up as they were starting to expose her shaft.

“Nnngh...” she grunts, having been pushed onto the floor by your brutal door slam against her body. “Such awful treatment of a higher being...” She slowly gets up, small flakes of snow sticking to her clothes and hair as she does, quickly melting afterwards.

“Oh, a pitiful, puny mortal!” she says as soon as she looks up at you. No “hello”, no “greetings”, a straight up insult. Her robes are emblazoned with ominous sigils and she carries a backpack on her back.

“Say, have you heard about Zamlaak, god of deceity, betrayal and many more concepts?” she asks. Is this a missionary? What’s this tiefling on about? Does she know “deity” isn’t a word? The air smells strongly of brimstone, unmistakably the tiefling’s odor, which intensifies as she waits for a response from you.