Kalen Maitel had been trapped in the Abyss for so very long that he barely remembered the beauty of his home in Fairy. He longed for the melodic voices and fair countenances of his people. He yearned to lounge in the lushness of a summer day or to smell the damp leaves after a light Autumn rain. Instead he was forced to endure the tainted sights and smells of the Abyssal Plane of Earth. It had seemed an eternity for him in this repellant place. He wondered how long it had been for his people. He imagined that time moved differently in the two planes. Did they know he was alive? Did they miss him? Would they recognize him now that this corruption had affected so much of his visage? Did they even remember him?

He had been able to reach out to mortals at last - projecting his image to them in order to tell his sad tale. Once contact was made, several had informed Kalen that they are inhabitants of Travance. This was exceedingly good. Even in this place he had heard of their deeds. He had asked for their help and most of them, including what seemed to be a number of the distant kin, had agreed. Now he had to wait, he had to regain strength. He would project his image again to warn them when the demon was coming.

A small smile quietly crept onto Kalen’s face like an old friend returning from a lengthy absence. Hope was an unusual sentiment in the Abyss, and yet it had finally arrived.

*     *     *     *     *

A demonic nightmare of twisted vines and rotting vegetation shambled slowly toward the tear between realms. Suddenly an imp scampered across the path of the creature and tried to take cover behind a decomposing log. Faster than thought, a vine extended from the shuffling heap of abyssal putrefaction and wrapped around the smaller demon. The imp squealed in terror and struggled against the entwining restraint – but it made little difference. Slowly, almost as if to heighten the terror of the smaller creature, the vine retracted. As the imp came into contact with the demon, many tiny shoots of corrupted growth extended over the imp’s form, encasing it entirely. Within moments, the imp was no more. The abyssal abomination visibly grew in size and continued, undeterred, on its path. A new hunger drew it toward the forming portal. It had been a long time since this mound of terror entered the Prime Material.