Syris and Helforth

I was one of the best at what I did…

My name is Helforth. It’s a name you would do well to remember in case we ever meet. I’m a longstanding denizen of hell, a daemon as old as your entire family tree, no doubt. I always did have a grandiose life. My life below was filled with the simple pleasures of sipping a good whiskey while the screams echoed up from below my mansion gates. My time above was even more entertaining. A whispered word here, a possession there, a choice assassination to top it off, and I could bring a city to its knees.

Very few stood a chance at usurping my lifestyle. You see, I always had a knack for the arcane. Channelling the different elements into whatever strike I may deliver was always a tactic of mine. After all, nobody is immune to everything that makes these worlds. Fire, water, wind and earth were at my beck and call, and bent to my whim as I pleased. I even managed to channel the void on one occasion, even if it was taxing. That said, one can only do the same activities for so long before one desires new vices. As such, I decided to set up a trap of sorts. A gate buried deep in a mountain within the realm of mortals. Whomever touched it would find themselves completely enveloped by my power, in a way that would allow me to channel the possession eternally. It took quite a while for some unassuming soul to spring the trap.

That’s when he marked his unfortunate entry into my life. A small, unassuming kobold of all things. Honestly, I was hoping for something better. A dwarf perhaps, or an earth elemental. Nevertheless, I pushed forward. I attempted to claim this mortal’s body. I still remember the words that would mark the worst decision of my life. “Foolish mortal! With this form, you will be the instrument of this world’s demise! I am not an ungrateful being though, so I’ll give you a short while to witness the future that’s in store from within the prison of your mind.” Everything was playing out according to plan, aside from the weak race.

That’s when things took a turn for the worse. This being somehow managed to turn the tables on me. To this day I still have no worldly idea how he achieved it, but he managed to cage me instead! I was outraged, and understandably so! How could this imbecilic dollar store dragonborn manage to trap me, a lord of the pit? I remember the next day filled with vain attempts to escape from this prison, all the while screaming questions into his head to try and discover his methods! And do you know what he told me? He, this being of power capable of trapping daemons themselves? “Kobold heads are full of traps, and his head held the best traps, so his head was the best trap.” What kind of inane response is that?!

Eventually I manage to wrest a slight amount of control, taking shape on one half of his face. It didn’t take long before he was ostracised by his community. It’s hard to trust somebody with the runic scribing of hell itself on their face. After that, it didn’t take long before my host grew tired and decided on a new course of action. He started loading all manner of strange technology into a backpack, devised a weapon for himself that appeared to be the world’s most shoddily constructed grenade launcher, and then set out into the world. In his head he mentioned that he desired to show adventurers how to do their jobs properly. It was one of our earliest conversations, to be honest. He went into detail about the souls that barely made it through his most simple traps. I even discovered his name. Syris. How I despise him.

I saw an opportunity in his desires. For a long time now I’ve ‘played nice’, assisting him in combat and continuing to work my way out of his head. He’ll do well in the long run. I help him, and I have the perfect foundation to enact my desires later.