The Lore of Geomancer Cromwell of Tartarus

The room stank of devils.

And not the grandiose, sulphuric stench of arch-demons conjured forth to obliterate some earthly army with lightning in return for a hecatomb of sacrifices.

No, the smell permeating the quarters of Cromwell was an altogether more mundane kind of devil's waft, redolent of latrines, cat-vomit, and some ghastly stew of a thousand underarms.

It was an odor all too well known to Cromwell, for the Geomancer had made his home on the sub-plane of Tartarus for close on to a decade now. And it meant just one thing.

Imps! He had an infestation of imps!

Entered by: 0x234B…4457 and preserved on chain (see transaction)