Summoning Kobolds At Midnight: A Tale of Suburbia & Sorcery.

Camp de la Paix, Abu Dhabi.

Sean Hamilton watched from his position among the line of men as the commander of the 13th Demi-Brigade ceremoniously handed over command to the commander of the 5th Cuirassier Regiment. Officially ending the Foreign Legion's stay within the Arab Emirates.

Not that he was too choked up about it. As wealthy and luxurious as Abu Dhabi was, it was still a Muslim city in the desert. Which means it was hot, there was sand everywhere, and there wasn't a scrap of bacon within sight. About the only saving grace was the fact they could actually get beer there.

But that was about it, Sean thought as he and the others watched on impatiently for the ceremony to conclude so they could finally board their plane back to France. One last tour he repeated to himself over and over again. Then no more sand. No more sweltering heat. No more twitching at every local that side eyed you.

"Don't be looking so happy, American. If zey see you wit zat smile on your face zey will be keeping us here longer ya?" The voice speaking creaky English came from the man on his right. Gunter was from Germany. Or Denmark. Or the Netherlands. Or Belgium. It depended on who asked and when and no-one, not even the higher ups among the legion, have been able to get a straight answer from the tall and burly bald man.

"Shh." Came a voice from his left.

Among their unit Louise was about the only actual Frenchman aside from the commander. The wiry man with hawkish features that had a perpetual look of snideness on them and an air about him that radiated "I'm better than you".

They all stood a little straighter when their commander glanced in their direction as the ceremony continued on despite their little chat. Apart from Louise and the commander, basically everyone else in the unit came from pretty much everywhere. Hence the "foreign" in the name French Foreign Legion.

One was from 'Nam. Another from Djibouti. A couple were from New Caledonia. Three more were from Poland. With the rest being from the Balkans. He was sure the higher ups had a good laugh at their commander's expense when they decided to throw a couple of Serbs and a few Croats into their squad.

All in all, there were fifteen of their specific squad counting the commander. Of course this wasn't the entire platoon. The other half were off investigating something out in the desert while they were stuck here playing honor guard.

Again, not that Sean was crying over spilled milk about it. At least here he didn't have to worry about their trucks getting sandbagged in some dune and having to force it out in hundred degree weather. Then again, he was still in hundred degree weather while also being in uniform. While it wasn't exactly Dress Blues, it wasn't exactly comfortable wearing under the beating sun.

After far too long, the ceremony had concluded and their commander marched over to the line of men and spoke to them in French.

"Make ready to depart."

Sean held back a sigh of relief and was glad he did when the commander continued.

"We have lost communication with the rest of the platoon. Before we leave for Paris, we will investigate and retrieve them."

Sean held back a groan, which was better than some of the others managed. The commander turned and glared at the others with a sneer and a bark of command. He then turned to Louise.

"Prepare to move out."

Louise saluted crisply.

"Yes Commander!"

Their commander returned the salute and turned and marched off, leaving Louise to organize them. Which the bastard relished as he rushed them to hurry out of their dress uniforms and into their combat attire. Another thing he was looking forward to putting behind him when they got back to Paris. No more rushing around like a kicked ant hill. Just a few more months in Paris and he can go home.

Louise rushed them out of the barracks and towards the three trucks that they would be taking. After a brief game of rock, paper, scissors to determine who would get to play referee for the Serbs and Croats, Sean, Louise, Gunter and the fellas from 'Nam and Djibouti boarded one truck, leaving the Islanders and Poles to deal with the little Balkan war already brewing in one of the trucks.

Thus, three trucks headed out along a road used primarily for the base and onto a stretch of highway that lead deeper into the country. After a few minutes, the luxury vehicles of Abu Dhabi were replaced by the old and worn out clunkers and camels commonly seen in the rural areas of Arabia and the Middle East in general.

"So, what exactly can we expect Louise?" Sean asked the Frenchman, only to be met by a scathing glare and silence. With an annoyed sigh, Sean repeated his question in French. Which got a scoff and sneer from Louise but at least he answered.

"We received a report from some locals about smoke and earthquakes further in the interior. The others were sent to investigate but have yet to return contact."

"So it could be anythin' from terrorists, to a natural disaster, to just droppin' their radios in the sand?" Sean asked, only to groan and huff when Louise refused to respond to him and instead only gave him a glare.

"Don't know why you bothering. You know he won't answer if you don't saying it in French." Gunter replied.

"And the funny thing is I know he speaks and understands English! I've heard him speak it! But no! We have to communicate in French or he won't so much as give us the time of day!"

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"Well, we are being in ze French Foreign Legion no?"

"Not the point." Sean retorted before the truck fell into silence only broken by the off and on chatter coming from their radio. A mix of orders from command, pleas from the truck with the Croats and Serbs, and some local channels cutting in and out that interfered with frequencies.

About forty minutes into their drive did they see what was most likely their target. A big cloud of smoke billowed in the distance. Louise and the others pulled off the highway and into the sand and rocks. Sean could only hope and pray that they didn't get stuck as they drove towards the black horizon.

It took almost another thirty minutes before they crested the sandy hill that overlooked the pillar of smoke. From their vantage point they could see figures milling about around what could only be described as a portal to Hell that belched thick smoke and embers.

"So there's the target, but where's our guys?" Sean asked as he and Gunter looked upon the area with binoculars.

Sure enough, not a one wore the uniform of the legion. The majority looked like locals. Sorta. It might've been the heat or something wrong with the binoculars, but Sean could swear he saw horns on the people down there.

Once their observations were relayed to Louise, in French, he nodded and drove their truck down the inclined slope with the second truck close behind while the third remained on top of the ridge for support and lookout.

As they neared the belching chasm Sean was less and less certain it was the haze or faulty binoculars. Louise parked the truck some thirty feet from the edge of the encampment that wouldn't look out of place around some of the oasis across the desert. But that was where the similarities ended, Sean thought as he, Louise, and Gunter departed the vehicle while the other two kept watch from the truck.

While they marched at a measured pace towards the encampment, their hands were resting on their weapons the entire time. While not exactly common, it wasn't unheard of for enemy forces from out of either Yemen or the umpteen terrorist groups to come this far into the UAE.

Though these would certainly be the strangest, Sean thought as someone hurried over to them from a group among the encampment. The figure, dressed in lightweight desert dweller clothing dyed an ashen black that covered his face and skin, bowed and greeted them in an accented Arabic.

"As-salam alaikum."

"Howdy." Sean replied, much to the annoyance of Louise but to the interest of the figure.

Said figure rose and looked at Sean with fiery eyes and proceeded to speak in damn near perfect English.

"American?"

"Yeah? What tribe you from?" Sean asked, again to the annoyance of Louise as the figure seemed more interested in Sean than him despite Louise technically being the one in charge.

"Oh, my apologies! My name is Gallus de' Dís! Mercator de Inferni! At your service! I am the leader of the encampment you see before you!"

The man gave a deep bow with an elegant flourish that spoke of practiced and constant use. Though none of them bothered to care as the head wrap of the man came partially undone by the movement and revealed a set of twirling obsidian horns jutting from his head!

Suffice it to say, Sean and them were more than a little surprised. Which was more than could be said for the man as Louise and them raised their rifles towards him and the others. The man, Gallus, merely rolled his eyes and undid the wrap in its entirety. Revealing skin a hellish red and sharp smile.

"Suppose it's better to do this now than latter then?"

Louise barked commands in French between hurried prayers as they kept their arms trained on the devilish man. Though neither he nor the others, who also undid their head wraps to reveal similar features, seemed at all threatened by the group of three pointing guns at them, nor even the calls from their truck or the other one as the mounted guns swiveled in their direction.

Gallus merely sighed and turned slightly so that he was looking at Sean and spoke to him.

"I don't suppose you'd be more amenable than the Frenchman?"

"Depends on how you answer. What are you?" Sean replied as he kept his eyes on the devilish figure.

"As I said. I am a Mercator de Inferni. Though I suppose that isn't what you meant. While I'm sure the first thing to spring to your mind is 'devil' or 'demon' these are not accurate. While it's true that our blood is rather... demonic, we are not ourselves demons nor devils. We are called by many names, most of which are either incorrect or outright insulting, I believe the one you modern humans may be more familiar with is 'tiefling'. Though I would also ask you not refer to us, specifically, as such. Unlike those that refused their demonic heritage, we accepted and embraced it. So, please, refer to us as Infernesti. If you would."

Well, that was a lot to take in, Sean thought as the devi- infernal figure took on a business like stance and speech.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Sure. I guess. Though I have about a thousand other ones."

"I'm sure. By all means you and yours are welcome within our infernal encampment as guests and all the hospitality it includes, if you are so inclined. I would however ask you refrain from violence. It won't end well for you."

Sean couldn't help but blink as Gallus turned around and walked leisurely back into the encampment proper, blinking hard as a bright red devil's tail snaked out from under the baggy clothes. Turning his back to the armed men as if he wasn't afraid of them in the slightest. Sean looked over at Louise, only to find him still barking commands and prayers like they would do something. He then looked over to Gunter, who just shrugged his broad shoulders at him.

So Sean groaned and lowered his rifle and gestured for Gunter. The broad man came over and Sean gave him an order since Louise didn't seem intent on doing anything other than stand there and fail to look like he had everything under control. Sean told Gunter to have the other two drive the truck into the encampment after them while the second truck hung back at the perimeter. Just in case. When asked about relaying who, and what, they found, Sean told Gunter to relay that they had found... something. But left it vague since they weren't even sure what exactly they just stumbled across. They had enough enemies already and didn't need to potentially add one more that wanted them dead in this desert.

Gunter just shrugged and moved to relay the orders before riding in the truck back towards Sean and Louise. Sean hopped in with a firmly coaxed Louise as well following behind as the truck rolled into the hellish encampment.

As they did, they were still on edge despite the inviting tone of Gallus. All around them did nothing to alleviate that either as Sean and the others spied not just the other not-tieflings, but hellish wolves or dogs with deep red or raw pink skin and crackling fiery hair. Like hair made from actual fire. The hellish beasts snapped and snarled at one another while fighting over scraps of jerky thrown their way from their masters and snarled and growled at Sean and them as they rolled past.

Hung, the guy from Vietnam, yelped as he ducked his head back into the truck as some sort of small winged created flew by with a wicked cackle. The little fat creature had ashen gray scales and a small stubby dragon tail and batwings on its back. The creature had small stubs for horns on its gray skin with molten eyes and a feral bestial snarl.

The encampment itself was an array of black cloth tents and stalls held together by a twisted dark metal with other not-tieflings calling out in what sounded like Latin as they bartered and haggled away items that ranged from common things like cloth or food to things Sean didn't want to describe. Among the most exotic items were vials of hissing red fluids that seemed ready to explode, and some sort of sickly green colored grub with dark claws and the face of childs that cried bloody red tears. He even saw weapons like swords and daggers arrayed like he's seen at some gunshows.

As Sean neared to where Gallus stood waiting for them, he got a good look at the belching chasm and realized it was more than just a hole in the Earth as a steady stream of the not-tieflings followed some sort of path up from the chasm. Some walked with arms full of packages and boxes, while others drove black clothed and dark metal wagons pulled by some sort of hellish creature. It almost looked like a large bull or dinosaur if not for the pale almost pasty flesh covered with thick armored plates along the spine and shoulders that led down to a tail studded with black metal. It's head had no face above the mouth that Sean could see. Instead all he saw was a beak-like snout attached to a mass of bone that jutted out into three horns at the length as Sean was tall. Some of the horns were curled back like a rams while others were straight and sharp, some even serrated. The creatures lumbered by them on six powerful legs thick as tree trunks. The back and central legs ended like those of an elephants, while the front ended with curved claws that they walked upon like a gorilla.

Sean turned to Gunter with fear and worry on his face.

"Gunter? I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Gunter nodded and looked around with similar fear and worry.

"Thinking we very far from Kansas, American."

Sean peeked his head out the window and back the way they came. Already the formerly fairly clear midway was clogged and congested with bodies, wagons, and goods. Sean looked around and found that any avenue of easy escape was blocked by black clothed tents, dark metal wagons and crates, or the not-tieflings and their hellish creatures.

If things went tits up, it'd be a real slog to get out of here in one piece. All Sean could hope for right now was that whatever happened ended on a good note. With the look on Gallus's face as Sean, Gunter, and Louise left the truck, he wasn't so sure.