Lucian weaved through the throngs of devils attending the Von Holm soirée. Unlike his crimson skin, which usually flared like a beacon in the infernal light, tonight it seemed to melt into the shadows cast by the extravagant chandeliers that adorned the opulent ballroom. He wasn't there for the caviar canapés or the orchestra's infernal symphony; his quarry, the fabled Von Holm Opal, resided somewhere beneath this very manor.

The Von Holm estate loomed over the city like a monument to infernal wealth. Its obsidian spires scraped the fiery red clouds, and stained-glass windows, flickering with malevolent reds and oranges, cast grotesque shapes upon the manicured grounds. Gargoyle statues, carved with mocking grins, lined the parapets, their eyes glowing with an eerie inner light. Even the manicured lawns seemed unnatural, the blood-red roses emitting a faint sulfurous odor.

Lucian, with practiced ease, navigated the throng of festively attired devils. Succubi with skin the color of polished obsidian and horns that curled like rams’ horns sashayed by, their laughter echoing with a chilling undertone. Imps, the diminutive servitors of Hell, scurried about laden with trays of exotic delicacies, their beady eyes darting nervously. Towering over the crowd were hulking devils, their white bone armor gleaming under the infernal light, their expressions perpetually grim.

Reaching the edge of the ballroom, Lucian slipped through a shadowed doorway. A dank, cobweb-strewn staircase spiraled downwards. The air grew thick and stagnant, a stark contrast to the frivolity above. A faint, rhythmic dripping echoed from somewhere deep within the manor, a constant reminder of the ever-present sulfur springs beneath the infernal city.

“Okay Lucian, time to get to work,” Lucian said to himself

Here, away from the festivities, the true nature of the Von Holm estate became clear. This wasn't a place of merriment, but a monument to power and greed. Lucian descended down polished obsidian stairs lined with polished stone walls, his steps muffled by a greasing spell, into the bowels of the manor.

“Man, rich people are awful. Even the basement is nicer than my entire house,” Lucian quipped to himself.

Reaching the bottom, Lucian unfurled a brittle, yellowed map bought at a hefty price from a shady imp informant. It depicted a maze of corridors, booby-trapped passageways, and finally, the vault itself a squat obsidian structure emblazoned with a demonic symbol.

The first obstacle loomed before him a pressure plate set in the center of the corridor. A misplaced step would trigger a hail of razor-tipped arrows hidden within the shadowed alcoves. He was too short to jump over it, at barely five feet tall, he needed to find a different way to get around the trap. Lucian, with a murmured incantation, levitated a nearby stone and gently nudged it onto the plate. A satisfying thunk confirmed his success, followed by a flurry of arrows clattering harmlessly against the wall behind him.

Further down, the corridor narrowed, barely wide enough for Lucian to squeeze through. The aged stone walls were slick with a bioluminescent slime, casting an eerie green glow. As he navigated the passage, the slime pulsed rhythmically, seemingly in time with a low, guttural growl emanating from deeper within. Consulting his map, Lucian recognized this as a magical alarm system. He needed to disrupt the pulse with a counter-rhythm. Focusing his magic, he tapped a complex sequence on the stone wall, a series of clicks and knocks that resonated through the passage. The pulsing green light sputtered and died, followed by an annoyed screech from the unseen depths.

Finally, he reached a heavy iron door, reinforced with a demonic script that pulsed with a malevolent red glow. This was the vault entrance. 

“Von Nahg Man Lo,” Lucian traced the symbol on the map with his finger, muttering the inscription etched beside it. The red glow intensified, then abruptly vanished, replaced by a satisfying click as the lock disengaged.

With a deep breath, Lucian pushed open the vault door. Inside, on a pedestal of obsidian, lay the Von Holm Opal a fist sized gem that pulsed with an otherworldly, opalescent light. As Lucian reached for it, a booming voice echoed through the chamber.

"Well, well, well. Look what the hellhound dragged in."

Two heavily armored devils, their eyes burning with infernal fire, materialized at the doorway. 

“Gods Dammit.” Lucian cursed under his breath. He'd hoped to be long gone before anyone noticed his absence from the party.

"Gentlemen," Lucian began, his voice dripping with false charm, "such a pleasure to find fellow art enthusiasts lurking in the shadows." He gestured towards the opal. "Marvelous piece, isn't it? A shame it's resting in such…uninspired surroundings."

The guards didn't respond, only advanced menacingly. Lucian wasn't about to go down without a fight. He launched a gout of arcane ice at the closer guard, who roared in pain as his armor froze and shattered. The other guard, unfazed, lunged forward. Lucian sidestepped just in time, the guard's claws scraping across the stone wall leaving three large gashes.

Thinking fast, Lucian grabbed the opal and yelled, "Perhaps you gentlemen would be more interested in a…livelier form of entertainment?" As he spoke, he pointed at a dusty pile of scrolls and muttered some arcane word creating an illusory fire.

“Guys we should definitely put out that fire. Quick take this.” Lucian turns around once more and channels a beam of high pressure water from his hands at the still standing guard. The water struck him in the chest plate knocking him over.

“Well, don’t fall over. Taric won’t be thrilled if his vault goes up in flames.” Lucian mused.

Lucian turns back around towards the opal and waves his hand to make the faux fire go out. “Well, gents it has been a blast but I have a party to get back to.” Lucian shoves the opal into his cloak pocket and starts heading for the exit of the vault. Right as he walked out of the vault door a large green-skinned devil wearing slicked obsidian armor grabs Lucian by the cloak right where it clasps around his neck.

“Where are you going little demon,” the large guard snarled.

Before Lucian could even respond to the chamber pulsed with a blinding white light. When Lucian opened his eyes, the vault was gone. He found himself sprawled on a grassy plain, a cool breeze ruffling his hair. Above him, a vast, unfamiliar sky stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with two moons casting an ethereal glow.

“Where am I?” Lucian asked inquisitively.

Lucian continued to lie on the ground where he had appeared. The grass all around him was long and lush. There was the smell of fresh air and rain in the distance. Lucian looked directly up into the sky and noticed two moons dancing just a few degrees apart. With a slightly purplish blue sky with a pink strip at the horizon. The sun was rising just over the eastern edge of the plains. As Lucian stood up he saw some hills to the west and as he was scouting in all directions a thunderous crack pierced the silence. Along with the ear shattering sound came a sulfurous stench.

“Hello little devil” a mysterious voice said behind him.