The guardsman's agitation was palpable as he delivered his instructions, though it was clear to all that the blue-garbed man’s more immediate fears concerned the two beings standing before him. 

The larger, more noticeable of the two was a towering behemoth with a wolf’s head that loomed well over him even as it stood on all fours. The people manning the wall had been justifiably alarmed when the creature had suddenly clambered onto the parapet, but the situation had calmed somewhat when the beast simply sat and waited in place.

The only clue that the monster was listening to what was being said was the occasional twitch of its lupine ears, but the regard of its amber eyes rested far away over the horizon. 

Which was just as well for the man.

By comparison, the other one listening to him was exceedingly unassuming. A young woman clad in purple clothing that would not have been out of place among a crowd of groupies in their favorite band’s concert.

Unfortunately, he had been informed that among the agents of the Council was a shapeshifter that was at all times followed by a Hellhound, which left little doubt in his mind as to who he was speaking with. Unlike the beast, however, the woman’s unnatural gaze was focused squarely on him as he offered his explanation.

The woman in question was unaware of the human’s perceived connection between her and the great wolf. Though it was clear the guardsman thought her to be someone else as he acted as if he knew her, which was highly unlikely. After Malvvosia’s meeting with the demoness and her daughter there had been brief interactions with other members of the group—enough to cement her position as a trustworth ally—before they all were allowed to select a mission. Mal doubted word of her had gotten around so quickly.

Malvvosia cast a side glance at the hound beside her and found herself somewhat irritated. She had switched back to her human(ish) appearance to ensure no humans would feel uneasy around her. A decision her beastly companion had rendered pointless with his less than ease creating form. It was tempting to change bodies and slip into a more comfortable version of herself, however she reasoned in the end that it would probably be best if the guards on the wall continued to think they were familiar with her. In times of war a new face can be just as unsettling as a demonic one. 

“Actually,” Malvvosia began, cutting the guard off near the end of his sentence, “I came to lend help repairing the wall. That was my initial intention, I was unaware the part of it that was broken was somewhat less… physical, than I had been lead to believe. Had that not been the case I could have repaired the wall single handedly and made it worlds better than anything your workers could muster up.”Malvvosia shrugged “I suppose I will need to employ my less...constructive… skill set.” The demoness smiled at the thought of a good fight and had to put a great deal of effort into ensuring her smile didn’t grow unnaturally large. “Just point us in the direction of the thing that needs to die and we will do our—” Malvvosia motioned towards her hairy teammate as she said this “—utmost to make them as dead as is physically and spiritually possible.” Malvvosia’s smile grew a touch wider than she wanted, just bordering on the point were some would consider it too big. 

To make matters worse for the man’s frayed nerves, the hound broke its vigil as he sensed the looks thrown his way. Its head turned ponderously, and slitted eyes fixed on the guardsman, lips parting just enough to spy lines of razor fangs. The beast simply grunted, the sound like crumbling rock uttered like a reinforcement to the woman’s claims.

The man forced a smile onto his pale features and bowed, excusing himself.

The hound followed him with his eyes until he had left the parapet, then focused them on Malvvosia. As if he had been waiting for a modicum of privacy, the hound spoke in a grave voice. “You do not have the recruiter’s stench about you, Crone. Who do you belong to?”

Free of unwanted eyes, Malvvosia let her smile spread across her face, the edges of her mouth going past her ears. Upon being addressed, her mouth returned to a more reasonable size and she turned to regard the speaker, lifting her eyes but not her head to peer up at him. “Belong? What an interesting question.” Raising and then tilting her head slightly she continued, “I belong to myself and I serve my own interests; my interests revolve around protecting humans.” 

“Yet another imp,” the hound grunted with obvious irritation, though his following words made it difficult to decide which part of her answer bothered him. “Your presence here is telling, if you truly do not belong to the forces arrayed here. Why bother with walls when all the enemy needs to crack open this city is a modicum of subtlety?”

Ironic as it was to hear the hulking dog speak of subtlety, the implication was clear. If Malvvosia had found her way into the city without the knowledge of the factions that had gathered in Aquapolis, there was little stopping any with less than pure intentions from doing the same. In fact, the hound’s comment had not gone as far as to imply she was not one such enemy. Had there been more hostility to the remark, it could have come off as an accusation. As it stood, it seemed he had taken her answer at face value. Or that he simply did not care either way.

Whether or not the dog’s tone could be taken as accusatory held little interest for Malvvosia as she was more concerned with something else. “An imp? I take offence to being compared to such an annoying creature,” she snapped, her tone that of someone annoyed rather than angry. 

The hound craned its head to regard her with half-lidded, almost disappointed eyes. “My musings provide scant comfort, Crone. If you must, pretend I said nothing of the sort.”

Malvvosia blinked a few times before standing on her tiptoes to better look the beast in the eyes. “Just how many of you are in there?” The demoness giggled quietly as a thought occurred to her. “ Perhaps cerberus only had one head and three doggie personalities.” Malvvosia smiled, her annoyance at being called an Imp long forgotten. She returned to standing normally and stretched her arms as she walked over to the crenulations of the wall, hopping on up to stand on top of one of them. Smoke flowed from the fingertips of her right hand and formed the shape of a large gun; closing her hand around the smokey handle of the gun caused the smoke to solidify and become her Vicker’s Gun. “Shall we keep watch, Cerby? It would be terrible if some demons found their way onto this wall.” 

“Is that an invitation to toss you off?”

Malvvosia hopped from one crenulation to the next and looked over her shoulder. “You’re more fun than the other two.” 

The hound grunted in what must have been agreement.