After following the path for a while, you begin to feel a strong breeze blowing against your body. Dark clouds loom ominously in the distance. As you continue, you begin to make out what appears to be a sea side town, with waves crashing against the wooden structures violently.

I look up at the dark clouds looming in the distance. They look like they have the makings of a pretty violent storm. I'll have to find shelter before it makes landfall. This breeze feels strange to me. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. I don't like it. I still haven't gotten used to Earth weather. I doubt I ever will. In Hell, we don't have breezes. In fact, we don't have weather at all. Nothing ever changes. The caverns and catacombs of the Underworld extend deep into the bowels of the Earth, where it is hotter and drier than any desert, but the air is always still. It is an loathsome and inhospitable environment, but it is also a predictable one. Things change too much here on the surface. Nothing is constant. And yet... I realize that I like the way this breeze cools my skin. It's soothing. A hundred years of living in a heat so intense that it forms blisters on top of blisters could not deaden my senses to the pleasures of Earth's gentle climate. I scoff at myself. Life on the surface must be making me soft. I long for the harsh reality of the Underworld. I long for the sharp crack of Satan's lash or the mind-scrambling stare of an agitated Gorgon. The creatures of Earth would not understand, but I need pain to keep me focused. All Hellspawn do. As Satan teaches us, pain is hopeful. Pain is holy. Pain is healthy. Pain heals. Earth lacks pain. I sigh. There's no time to lose, so I continue walking in the direction of the town. Hopefully, the buildings there are stable enough to withstand the storm. I'll ask for a place to stay... or take one by force, if necessary.

[spoiler]Oh. My. God. I am so damn glad that I decided to dm you. That was incredible! Keep up the great writing dude! I am loving this backstory, you really know how to rp as a demon. [/spoiler] As you continue down the path, the breeze turns into a strong gust blowing hard on your face. Fortunately by the time it starts pouring rain you have made it to the front entrance of the town. A lone guard stands by his post, looking somber and miserable. He barely notices you until you are right up on him. "Name and Business," he mutters, "I don't even care anymore......... can it all just end?" He looks at you with a thousand yard stare. His wet face glowing in the dim light.

I size up the guard. He doesn't look like much of a threat, but something's beaten him down. Is it just boredom, or is it something more? I've seen thousand-yard stares before... hell, I've [i]caused[/i] thousand-yard stares before. I know what usually sits behind them. Has this town seen hard times recently? No. Wait. He's probably just miserable from working this boring job. I keep forgetting that things work differently here on the surface. The humans do not draw strength from their misfortune; they prefer to define their reality through misery and suffering instead. I speak to the guard. "My name is Balthor. I seek shelter from the storm. Do you have any vacancies?"

The guard lets out a long sigh, "yeah, yeah you can go on ahead..." He gives you a depressing look,"as for a place to stay.....try Matilda's. Just follow this road till it dead ends, you can't miss...." His voice trails off again, and he goes back into that same stare from earlier. The rain is now picking up even more intensity, the wind is howling like a pack of wolves.

I brush past the guard and begin walking the path to Matilda's. The sound of the wind reminds me of some of Hell's most fearsome creatures. As I walk down the path, I pause to inspect the village. Who lives here? Are there any shops, taverns, or services that I might find useful?

As you look around, you can barely make out what appears to be a blacksmith's shop, a clothiers, and a general store. The rain blurs many of the details on the signs. In the distance, you can hear a bell ringing violently. It's clanging still oddly audible in the raging storm.

I move toward the blacksmith's shop. I'd like to see what he has available for sale... and if nobody is there, maybe something from his inventory will mysteriously go missing in the storm.

You head towards the door, there is no light coming from inside. With your huge, clawed hand you bang furiously on the wooden door. There is no response, the rain pounding against your iron armor.

Give me a little while, I'm working up a story for you. Your backstory sounds epic!