Erlind, or let's just call him by his true name: Asmodai, leaned over the table a little bit and carefully studied the Witch's face as she began to speak. He watched her leave the shelter of salt and that alone made him want to discuss whatever she had to say. Only one with a powerful soul could be so courageous. Truth to be said, he was able to step into the circle but staying in it longer would have made him weaker. There is a reason to why Demons are bound not to interact with Humans even if they wanted to cause havoc in their lives for pure enjoyment. Well, some at least, but when called upon, if the summoner wasn't protecting himself, any vagabond entity or even the Demon they wanted to summon could at any time turn against them. That alone could result in the death of the summoner.<br/><br/>Asmodai on the other hand, haven't been summoned in ages. Approximately only once in the past 360 years. As the world inspired to become more modern and humanity began to forget the Old Ways, people began to turn to science to find answers in what torments them in life. But to this day and age, there is still so many things that science cannot help with and that is the inexplicable.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">''By going away?'' </span>She responded with a chuckle.<br/><br/>Asmodai's lips remained closed in a firm straight line. This was no time for exchanging humour with Witches. Witches were dangerous, a threat to even the greatest of Demons.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">''The Nazis have declared that nurses and doctors who are Jews are no longer fit to serve the public. That makes my blood boil.''</span>She explained.<br/><br/>At this point, he wasn't so sure if he could help and he wasn't going to explain to her that his profession in the mortal world was that of a Nazi soldier. She may not comprehend the reasoning behind why would a Demon even want to defend a mortal country that he doesn't care about, or why he served a lesser being, Adolph Hitler. Asmodai had his own reasons to, which he may never want to tell the Witch. He remained quiet and gave her time to speak whatever she intended to say. He simply sat there, locking eyes with her, his facial expressions a little more serious now.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><br/>''If I knew the future, perhaps I could offer you knowledge, but I am just a simple witch. I know spells, some healing herbs and little else.''</span>She sighed and continued.<span style="font-style: italic">''I know the question is not how can you be of service to me, but what price with you exact of me for disturbing you?''</span><br/><br/><span style="font-size: 50%; line-height: 116%;">[Consent of Isolde granted for the following action in the paragraph. The vision in the following text is taken from one of Isolde's roleplays set in our modern times.]</span><br/><br/>Asmodai's lips curled into a tiny smile and he looked away for a moment, analyzing her short speech, counting the sincerity in the pitch of her voice.<span style="font-style: italic">''What you're asking of me is nothing that I cannot help you with, but because of the importance of your request and the selfishness of such a demand, the price will be more than you might want to provide, Isolde. Would you like to see for yourself?''</span>Upon the completion of his sentence, a mist formed inside the warehouse, consuming every inch of empty space. Paint began peeling off walls, turning them rusted. The mist engulfed them in one huge black cloud and a scent of sulfur surrounded them. It would smell horrendously bad for one who wasn't used to it.<br/><br/>As the cloud began to evaporate, Isolde and Asmodai were now found seated on two red velvet armchairs. The room they were in could be described as a Club lobby and people in the cozy room were dressed in a fashion not yet known to men of this age. One would not be able to tell if they were dreaming or actually awake for the scenery in front of Isolde & Asmodai did not belong to their present world.<br/><br/>One would only wonder if it was something out of a near future.<br/><br/>The people in the room did not seem to notice them.  Even their voices and the loud music were somehow silenced. Asmodai was now dressed in his usual Nazi solid black outfit, and a dark tilted beret decorated his head. He looked at Isolde and said.<span style="font-style: italic">''Soon, nothing will be left of this world. I am sure that you are already aware of the threat that descended on our world, and as much as it is yours, it is also my people's and mines. You will need to sign a... deal. I can assure you that it will be respected, in exchange for your soul, Isolde Devereaux. Free will is yours.''</span>Asmodai paused for a moment but he made sure that his eyes never left Isolde's face. There was something different about the scent in the air. One could smell the delicious scent of the sea inside the club's lobby, after a woman walked into the parlor, holding a 36 long stemmed red rose bouquet. She then leaned over a credenza under a long ornate mirror inside the entryway, and arranged the flowers. After a short conversation with an individual, the woman made her way to the bar, soon followed by a dark haired masculine form, and that man stood out from all the rest.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"My name's Malachai. The owner of this establishment, and who do I have the honor of talking to?"</span>The man said, his voice, the only sound in the room.<br/><br/>The woman in question, mirrored Isolde's physical image.