Long time lurker, first time poster! This storys setting takes place in a campaign I'm currentlly in, but it takes place before the campaign starts.

A quiet day in hell

Falthor woke up in the growing twilight. The clouds that constantly covered the Lower Planes thinned, allowing the light of Hellfire to light his room. He opened his eyes quickly and immediatelly scanned the room. Most of the room was lit well enough to see, but in the reccesses of it shadows his darkvision cut in. Satisfied that the room was unoccupied except for him he got out of bed. Looking out the window he stared at the little village he was in. It was a hovel to be sure, but it was where his work had taken him. He had taken a job guarding the city from demons, but it was a slow job. Still it wasn't one to put off. He got out of bed and pulled on his mythril shirt. He pulled the chain of his pendant out from beneath it. The Shadows Knight wasn't something to keep hidden, even if he didn't want to accept the burden that came with it. He drew his bow as he stepped out of his room in preperation for the day. It was a good thing he did, for there was a devil camped behind his door. It attacked him with a jagged blade as long as his arm. He dove back and narrowlly missed the tip of the sword. It buried itself in the frame of the door, stuck. Without wasting a second he drew his bow and jumped back 5 feet, loosing an arrow as he did so. The arrow tore through the monsters throat spraying acidic blood across the hall. Shaking his head, he took a few steps forward. Looking down at the now pitiful beast he said, "you've been getting sloppy." He chuckels to himself as he steps into the dark corridor and dissapeared into the shadows.