The door to the inn creaked ominously, but the interior and the locals looked amiable enough at first glance. At least as amiable as he could expect as someone with red skin and horns, a look generally not often found in these lands. He entered the taproom and, as he was used to, the room fell silent. He said a friendly greeting, put on a casual smile, and walked to a free table at the far end of the room near the bar. He could feel all eyes on him, something that he got used to over the years. He put his sling bag next to him, just so that the neck of his lute stuck out. He looked into the room in front of him. A lot of commoners, farmers or craftsmen, and only one other single individual, maybe a travelling merchant by the looks of it. As far as he could determine, none of the thugs of the local government. Good.
A barmaid approached him warily. He could see that the older barmaid and the landlord had sent her, the youngest, to deal with the scary stranger. "Hello traveller. Do you want something to eat or drink?". He smiled at her and with his dark melodic voice asked "I would love to. If the food in this inn is as good as its barmaids, I'll have to order more than intended. What can you offer young lady?". She smiled shyly. "Oh, thank you. We have a simple rabbit stew tonight and it is definitely tastier than me" she said and suddenly jumped in horror "Oh sorry, I ... I didn't mean ... I mean, I didn't want to suggest you eatin' someone ... I'm sorry. So sorry ...". She started to turn away from him when he chuckled and smiled comfortingly at her "Don't worry, I'll only eat nasty children and mothers-in-law that people offer voluntarily". As he winked at her, she started laughing as well, the nervousness slowly subsiding. "I'll have a large portion of the stew then and a mug of your best ale." She gave him a wide grin "A very good choice! And I'll ask Soren, our chef, whether there are any mothers-in-law he could offer on the side!".
The taproom was back at its usual noise level when she came back with a steaming clay pot and a mug. "There we go!". "Thank you very much .... what is your name, if I may ask?" "You may! I'm Brenna, the daughter of Lennis, who runs this inn." She pointed at the man behind the bar who nodded in return. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Brenna. I'm Skamos. One question, would it be possible to acquire a room for the night?" "Oh, sure, I'll ask Lennis." She looked at the neck of the lute sticking out of the bag. "Are you a travelling bard?" "I am indeed!" Her look became hopeful. "Would you play for us tonight or tell us stories from far away? We do not get many visitors, especially not on days when snatch wagons are said to come through. Usually, people try to hide away, lest they are taken as well." He looked up. "Snatch wagons? You mean the prison transports?" "Yes, but they don't only take prisoners no more. If we don't have prisoners, they often take one of us. Say that a quota has to be met and we are all guilty of something. These are dangerous times, they are!". "They surely are. But if I can lighten the mood or lift some spirits, I'm happy to play some music after the meal."
After he had finished the stew and oiled his throat with the quite heavy ale, he took out his pan flute, leaned back, and started to play a well-known folk song. After the first few notes, heads lifted and turned to look at him and he could see the occasional smile as the melody was recognised. It was a song about a plentiful harvest in happy times. He switched to a more juicy song about a barmaid and a stranger and winked to Brenna who turned a deep shade of red. He could feel the room now. Some people starting singing or humming. He could hear laughter. The room warmed up to him. Time to work his magic.
Two hours and a lot of ale later, the room had gathered around him. His magic had worked. The crowd was captivated, some even enthralled by his music and his dark voice. He had switched to his lute and was singing songs from far-away lands, about longing for freedom, or the ocean, or the girl next door. Only a few customers had stayed back at the far end and still eyed him over their mugs. But he didn't care. He had managed to befriend the people. They loved him by now. Some even had left and came back with friends or family. Lennis had even offered to bring food and beer for free if only he'd continue to sing. He, of course, happily obliged. A friendly town would mean he could stay for a while and maybe even earn his lodgings. Maybe a few nights in a bed and not some stable or shack.
Sound woke him from a nice dream. Before he could identify what it was, a leather strap was forced over his face into his mouth to pin him to the bed and stop him from speaking or screaming. Other hands had caught his legs and arms before he could react and started to bind him. So much for managing to become friends, he thought. He heard someone say that at least they now have someone to offer to the snatchers. Of course. He could not even resent them. If there is a chance that someone of your friends could be taken, the decision is always the same. Take the weird looking guy. Take the stranger.
---
The cart rumbled along the rutty path and Skamos looked at the three humans that huddled together on the other side of the cage. "Don't worry, I won't eat you. I'm an innocent victim as much as you!" The guys nodded but gave no sign that they believe him. He thought back to the time when he was standing in the realm of Phlegethos in the 4th level of Hell, overlooking the fields of fire. He was a warrior in the army of Fierna fighting in the Blood War. Yes, that was the time when humans should have feared him. But that was almost 30 years ago. Times change. He had brought enough creatures into the grasp of Fierna to be allowed to roam the mortal plane. And this had changed him. Living alone, being despised by most creatures you meet, had changed him. His kind are widely dispersed in these lands - he only has met a handful of Tieflings on his travel - and the only aim by now was to survive. People did not trust him because of his appearance and he did not trust people because his trust was always broken. He did not hate them for it, he could even understand it to a degree. His kind did cause enough suffering. Other lords were not so subtle as Fierna.
He sighed and leaned back against the cage. He saw that the villagers had handed all his stuff to his captors who threw it onto the waggon. They were survivors, not thieves after all. But that meant his instruments were still within reach and there might be a chance at the next stop to find, if not friends, at least allies. Although he usually took not much interest in the politics of this realm, the queen and her thugs really started to get on his nerves.
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