It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Percival de Rolo, a human gunslinger . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, He requests that they kill Utugash, the devil that Ipkesh works for. If Utugash is taking out, Ipkesh and his friends could rise up in the devil hierarchy.
DM: "What I'm trying to say is, it behooves you to make this contract. So. What you seek is the Mentiri. The Mentiri is the prison beneath the city. I can tell you more, I can get you there. I can probably even find out who there knows of or is involved with this rakshasa. And this favor I ask will lead you to this path." He leans forward after taking a big sip of his wine, finishing the last of it, setting it aside with a heavy (poof) on the table. "I work for Utugash, one of the prominent owners and taskmasters involved in moving souls and soul goods throughout this area of Dis. He is slovenly, he is lazy, he is powerful, and he needs to fall."
Player: Is he a pit fiend?
DM: "At one time, maybe. At this time, his laziness has left him a useless sack of demon shit, and I have bent under his fist and brow for far too long. I have friends now in other places, and if his business were to crumble, that void left behind could elevate me and my compatriots."
Player: Of course.
DM: "Now, I have friends in this prison, and the offense of travelers tearing down someone of prominence, and yourselves being still within your very mortal coils, why that's what this prison is designed for; for those that break the laws of the land but haven't yet passed. To be ripened. To be kept, until they do, once the corruption has set them for the rest of our factory. So, you slay this creature, I can see that you are safely arrested and placed with allies on the inside that could move you around and bring you fairly close to this rakshasa you seek. That is my offer."
Player: This is a fair offer. I will quietly, without naming names of any kind, confer with my compatriots and we will give you a yes or no, without naming names of any kind.
DM: "Very well."
Player: Before we leave, and just as a personal favor. I've been touched by a demon before, by a creature. Does it show here? Can you see?
DM: He gives you a strong look.
Player: I'm going to pull Hex up on myself.
DM: At which point, you see his expression change, and he rears back and goes, "It doesn't show, but the blood ward leaves its scar on many who exist here. Your essence is not of the Abyss, I would not worry. But do be careful in flashing such power."
Player: I'm thankful. My last question this taskmaster of yours, the name you gave me, is it his true name?
DM: "No. True names, now that is an expensive trade."
Player: One would hope. Would have made our job much easier.
DM: "And mine long ago."
Player: Fair. We will meditate upon it.
DM: "I will say beware the Whisperers, the golden-armored fliers, the watchers of the archdevil himself. His paranoia seeks to know everything that goes on, and should such treachery that we talk of be revealed, well, that would a very unfitting end to me, my compatriots, and every one of your friends."
