"U͝r͝g͝h, wh͝at is̸ that́ ͡n͘o͢i̸se?"

The demon opened his eyes weakly. The sound of bones getting chopped and smashed was something he hadn't heard in a long time, not since he first came into these catacombs. He cleared up a hard-to-reach, upper area that probably served as some sort of ventilation (why a bunch of catacombs had ventilation eluded him) as his little personal demon lair.

Ever since the civilians of the nearby village of Widds chased Adell out over a murder blamed on him, he spent his time hidden here. He only went out to get food, a hard enough business as it was. He couldn't raid the crops, and hunting in the post-apocalyptic world was difficult. There were those normal folk (physically, perhaps not mentally) that attacked him out of hatred, to which he would never admit to cannibalising their remains. He did, but he never would dare admit it.

Adell peeked his head out from the his hiding spot, his horns and white hair first showing up from the edge of his vantage point before his glowing, emotionless red eyes. A woman, a tall one with a skintone mixed between orcish grey and the light pink of an average human's colouration, was surrounded by a bunch of skeletons. When the demons rose, the dead had to come along for the ride too, bemoaned quite a number of people Adell met.

Was she a treasure hunter? What sort of girl considered the magical trinkets of ancient history more important than her life? This woman looked tall, and definitely had the muscle implying a seasoned warrior, but he wondered if she could survive long enough to unravel the treasures.

His back appendages twitched. He wasn't sure what they did, even after more than 400 years of being like this. An former friend of his once compared it to a dog's tail, and found that his knife couldn't penetrate the carapace that had grown on his spine where these appendages spawned from.

Adell kept an eye on the circumstances below him. Death was so commonplace now, even in a world lacking people, that the world would feel nothing if this woman was cut down by skeletons. Perhaps he would feel nothing if she died.

"N̸o rįs͢k̵, no re͜war̢d.̡ That is probably what she thinks." His words skipped across Demonic and landed in Common. His Common wasn't as good as it used to be, but he hoped never to forget it.

A little blip in his heart said a little phrase.

[i]"Ḑon't ̵le̶t̀ ͘t͡his̨ gir̷l d͝i̷e͟ th̸i͠s d̨ay."[/i]