Nicodemus walked through the darkness of the Dark Lands, feeling perfectly at home. Here he was in his element, the darkness increasing his potential tenfold. In the brightness of the above world, he was feared little, not many were afraid in the day. But at night, all the paranoia and nightmares pop up, all of them sneaking around at the edge of your vision, the beast under your bed that makes you frightened to so much as to wake up, shivering until dawn with pure, cold fear.

Nicodemus walked through the tunnels unstopped, having not seen so much as a goblin on his way down. He chuckled as the lanterns of Lith My'athar floated into view, growing from pinpricks of light unstopped by the opposing light of the sun. He could still be miles away. It was why it was so dangerous to start a fire in the Dark Lands, anything could find you.

Nicodemus walked and walked, not minding the long tunnels. He was used to walking from meal to meal. He chuckled as the city came upon him, archway leading into the cave that held it looming over him. Unlike Menzoberranzan, it seemed much more welcoming, less ominous. There were much fewer carvings of spiders. The people of Lith My'athar were a friendlier sort.

The people of Lith My'ather were fools.

Nicodemus strode into the town looking through the alleyways to catch a stray drow, as there always was one somewhere. He must have looked for an hour before spotting a form in the street. The drow saw him and sneered, making to walk past him. The dark skinned elf ran into his side and kept walking. Nicodemus grinned and flicked his wrist with a single word. The whip of fire shot out, coiling on the ground like a waiting snake. He reared his arm back and thrust it forward, wrapping it around the ankle of the drow. He pulled back hard, with an unholy strength, and the elf tripped, being pulled back to him.

A long, bony leg stomped on the elf's leg, breaking it. The leg was attached to a figure of great fear in the dark lands, Yaksha. Every bit as cruel as Nicodemus, if not more. He pulled a bone from his arm, waving his arm over the wound to heal it. The bone came down in a bloody arc, severing the leg with a cold apathy. He smiled absentmindedly at Nicodemus, shoving the bone back through his arm, casting heal once more. He was already weakened from two successive heals, but he had no intent to fight.

Yaksha smiled darkly, and looked Nicodemus over. "The great Nicodemus, I'd presume?" He walked forward, ignoring the cries of the wounded drow entirely. He extended his own hand, smiling toothily. "Nice to meetchya, I've heard a lot about you. Come, come, let's talk. I have news. Big news."

Nicodemus watched the man injure the drow, amused by his pain. He looked at the man, chuckling at his choice of weapon of choice. “Now now, that can't be good for you. Can't go around with a repeatedly broken arm, now can we?” He grinned, face appearing to be a skull with skin stretched over it that was too small, a slit cut for a mouth.

Nicodemus considered the man's words for a moment, planting a dirty foot on the drow's wounds, twisting his heel, grinding in the dirt and dust of the streets. One hand, strangely lengthened and thinned, wrapped around to the back of the drow's head, surprisingly strong. Nicodemus lifted him by the hair on the back of his scalp, twisting it to make the drow scream.

“I will come. Give me a moment to end this drow's suffering.” Nicodemus planted a hand on his chest, casting emotion. As always, he chose fear to overcome the drow. He pumped spell after spell of minor wounding into him, opening cuts and sores all over his body. Two fingers moved up to open cuts on his eyes. They bled, eyelids fluttering. His hand returned to his chest. Nicodemus' jaw unhinged itself, locking over the man's mouth in a horrifying kiss. The specks of golden fire that were Nicodemus' eyes dimmed while the air cooled around them.

Nicodemus sucked the fear from the man, sucked his soul away. After a moment, he drew away, enough soul left in the man to keep his organs running. He breathed shallowly, quick short breaths. Nicodemus smiled and lifted his palm inches away from the drow's face, and slammed it down, forcing the nose to break and ram up into his brain.

Nicodemus let the body fall, pulling the man's hair to tear his scalp nearly clean off. He stuffed the skin and hair into the drow's mouth and stood back to admire his work. “Very nice.” He chuckled, turning back to face Yaksha.

“Let us leave, then.” He smiled and walked next to the half-fiend.

Yaksha clapped slowly and rythmically at the drow's torture, watching him suffer. "As every fiend should, as it should be. Quite an impressive show." He laughed, and led Nicodemus to a secluded spot. "My plan is simple. We, the fiends, are going to create a literal black hole in the middle of Imythess. By the time we're done, we'll have gone back to the stone age, they'll have to learn how to light a fire again! And, with more primal society, comes more primal..."he leaned forward, grinning nastily. "FEARS."

Nicodemus listened intently, watching the man speak. His words were simple, but the things he was doing seemed to be near impossible. But Nicodemus smiled as he realized where this was headed. When the half-fiend spoke of primal fears, he grinned. “You have my attention, Yaksha. How do you propose we do this?” He chuckled.

Nicodemus heard someone approaching their spot, listening in. He stood and conjured up another fire whip, lashing it out to reveal and capture another drow, a guard who seemed to be checking around for the cause of death of the mangled,scalped drow.

Nicodemus spoke a few words, fingers dancing, and thrust his palm out towards the guard, sending a wave of spirits to envelop the elf, filling him with memories of pain and suffering, of hopelessness.

“Right. Where were we?” Nicodemus smiled as he set the guard alight, melting steel and charring flesh.

"The theory is simple. The execution will be much harder. We must have men pointing fingers at each other. We must sow paranoia, fear, anger. We will turn the entirety of Imythess against each other, one town at a time. And then, at the end, we will be there to pick up the peices." He spun on his feet, in his element now. "We will sow the seeds of discord, and watch man turn against his fellow man! And when all is said and done, this world will be ours to mold as we see fit."

Nicodemus returned to his spot, inhaling the scent of burnt flesh, the smell of fear, unique from person to person. He watched this demon spin about. “Mind, I have no intentions of ruling the lot of Imythess. My quest is a simple one. I sow the fear of the night, fear of myself, into the hearts of others. I was a being summoned into the darkness of Menzoberranzan. I am a physical embodiment of fear, I am made of fear. The more fear there is, the more power I gain.” He said.

“I cannot help any with your more...physical plans, but if you're looking for a way to sow emotion, i'm the demon you're looking for.”

"Your part is the same as ever. you will sow fear, confusion, paranoia, anger. Your job is to turn these cities against one another. You will still kill how you see fit. But I need you to frame others, to bring the cities to their knees, and turn their sights onto the other towns. Jealousy, anger, paranoia, WAR. And when it is down, the world will be how it always should've been. We are entropy's warriors, and we cannot fail."

Nicodemus watched him carefully. He seemed to be making perfect sense, it was perfectly in his power to do such things. His part fit his own goals quite nicely. People would grow to fear the name Nicodemus.

“Right then. After all this talk I have but one simple question.” Nicodemus eyed the man carefully, seeing if he was serious. “When do we start?” He chuckled and clapped a little, quiet clap. He was going to enjoy this greatly.

The tall demon looked around, imagining what the city would look like with the inhabitants fighting amongst themselves, makeshift defenses to ward off their neighbors, easing their paranoia.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

"You will start immediatly. I need to gather a larger group to get the hard part started." Yaksha smiled, and spun on his foot, almost gliding away from Nicodemus, whistling softly to himself as he did. A sadistic rictus was plastered on his face, and he was in a mood to slay anyone who came near him soon....

Nicodemus smiled as the half-demon walked away, looking ready to kill. Nicodemus shared his feelings, anxious to begin his work. But first he needed to pay a visit to a spell supplier in the underdark, one who sells spells not looked upon with favor in the aboveground. Nicodemus' eyes flashed as he walked to the man's home, here in Lith My'athar.

Nicodemus walked down several alleyways, kicking the body of the drow from earlier. It rolled over limply, completely dead. He grinned and continued his walk in silence, throwing an emotion spell into all that he saw.

He loved this job already.