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Readers may be wondering just what it was that I was referring to when I wrote about my "demon." While many might be quick to turn to the concept of metaphor for this description, the truth is far more literal. You see, I was once on track to become a wizard, and that was thanks to a book I had discovered under the homeland of the Dragon's Heir kobold tribe. Through a series of adventures, I came to learn that the book was more of a burden than a prize, for there were plenty of dark forces seeking the book for their own gain. One of them was the Dark Mistress Estrasa, who sought to control the Wildlands with her magical power. The other, I would not meet until after I had forsaken the book to end Estrasa's quest. This curse did not manifest itself right away, however. My companions and I had enjoyed a series of festivities after our conquest of the Tower of Darkness. There was much partying, plenty of food and drink, copious amounts of sex. By the end of the festivities, I had collapsed into a deep sleep, well rewarded, but short-lived.

Thanks to the diurnal nature of many of my companions, the time that I slept was dark and quiet, with only a few on the watch for any stragglers among the servants of the Dark Sorceress or any opportunistic bandits seeking to pilfer our coffers while we were sick with excess. But there was something in the quiet and the dark--something that didn't feel right--something that felt as if it shouldn't BE.

I noticed it first from the corner of my eye, but when I tried to turn to look upon it, I found myself unable to do so. My breath was not the only breath, and sound and sight not the only indication that some wrongness approached me.

The stench that clawed its way from the earth reminded my senses of the kobold eggs shattered by careless adventurers, left forgotten by matrons who died to protect the young. The breath that came close was ragged and diseased like the tribe fellows succumbing to the ravages of dark and forgotten passages. The closer both got, the more a terrible chill overtook my form. First at my toes, and then up along my legs, my stomach, my neck.

I couldn't open my mouth. I couldn't move at all. All I could do was watch as the darkness deeper than my kobold eyes could pierce loomed over my form.

It looked over me for what must have been hours. I heard the footsteps of the guard switching out to another. They may have passed me, but they did not see. Neither could I call out to ask for help. All I could do was watch helplessly as the sentry passed the dark form with nothing more than a slight shiver.

From the mass, a dark claw reached out, something bearing the chitinous plating of the giant monsters of my homeland, but with a distinctly humanoid shape. Three claws scratched down along my cheek scales as volcanic breath threatened to cook my snout.

I tried to fight. I tried to escape, but I could not move. I am not a kobold of faith, but I had no other choice at that moment but to cry out to any god that would hear me. The voice that responded came from the darkness itself. An impish giggle, layered in three distinct voices: A malicious child playing a harmful prank, a dark and deep bellow from the pits of fear itself, and the sultry coo of a seductress, offering comfort and pleasure. It was then that I recognized the voice, and knew who my tormentor was, for the tale had been told to me by one of my companions

During one of my quests, I had become separated from my companions, and during that time, they had encountered something otherworldly and hellish. This thing is no doubt something very similar, if not the same. It is a demon!

From that hand, the formless darkness converged into an ashen, fleshy arm, its twin appearing on the other side. Soon, all was made clear to me. Sitting on my lap was a humanoid figure, nude, save for patches of hardened stone-like shell on various parts of its body. Its hair was long, wild, and crimson with two large obsidian horns sticking out from its forehead. Its eyes were black voids with points of violet staring down at me with a hungry, fully sharp-toothed grin looking down upon me.

Its chest was small, nearly flat, yet its form offered a slight amount of fat folds as it leaned over me, its bare waist and loins reveal its androgen form. Its legs were covered in the same chitinous plating as its hands, ending in cloven. Its spaded tail curled around its waist, looping under itself like a belt.

That monstrous voice spoke once again within my mind, its triune call both the alluring comfort of a friend and the taunt of an enemy. "Where is my book, little lizard?"

I couldn't respond, not physically, but as I thought back on how I split the book into four elemental spirits so that the Dark Sorceress wouldn't have them, the smile on the demon disappeared, replaced by a scowl from the very depths of nightmares.

"Gone? The great tome spread across the winds? How dare you! You were gifted the greatest treasure this world has to offer, and you gave it up so easily? You call yourself an eroarcanist!?"

Now that the creature had been certain and its intentions made more clear, I fought through my fear and attempted communication, thinking in more direct thoughts instead of in my memories. "I would not let it fall to the wrong hands, but I have remembered what is important from its pages."

The beast snorted, leaning back as it sat atop me. "That," it began, "we shall see. I shall drain your essence now and be done with you. But, if you are a skilled eromancer, then you should have no trouble in surviving this challenge."

Eromancy: it is the application of sexual magic, and it is the field I had devoted myself for the better part of a year of my life. Once I had left the tower, I thought I would be done with it and move on to other studies, but it seemed that I needed its help at least one last time...