Silver
Lair 2.1

"Lesser planar binding."

Casting any sort of planar binding spell without an appropriate magic circle was considered by most to be an act of incredible foolhardiness or arrogance. The first rule of of extraplanar summoning: Thou shalt not call up that which thou art unable to put down.

There were a few who disagreed, myself among them. We had a different rule: Thou shalt not call up that which thou mayest need put down.

Or, in other words, don't summon something that might want to kill you, dummy. Seriously, what is with people that call up demons or devils? Even if the binding's successful, once it ends, you've made an enemy of a near-immortal being that can only be truly killed on its own native plane, where it has the home field advantage. How does that sound like a good idea?

Now, perhaps, this might not have been the most effective use of my time, but the problems we had communicating with that one Undersider without pissing her off made this seem worth it. Even Lisa had trouble translating for her at times.

Besides, it made for a good excuse to see a dear friend again.

The spell completed, he strode out of the summoning circle in his well-muscled glory.

Yum.

"Hello, old friend," I greeted.

Canine eyes scrutinized me for a long moment before his lips curled up into a rough approximation of a smile. "Eluithol, you look... different." I smiled at the rich baritone of his voice. Just like I remembered.

"Reincarnation," I explained. "It's been a long time, Presley." His use name was so much easier to pronounce than his true name. I paused and frowned as another stray thought passed through my mind. "Oh. Oh, really, Presley? This is where you spend your free time?"

He looked around, eyes wide. "Um, no?"

"I meant this material plane."

"Maybe," he said. "Okay, fine. He was a good friend, until we had a falling out, so when he passed on, I figured I'd take his name as my use name in homage."

I shook my head. "Whatever. Come on, Pres. There's someone I want you to meet." I waved him to follow. "She's had a rough life and has trouble relating to people. Call it a hunch, but I think you might have better luck talking to her than the rest of us."


A/N: Presley here is a hound archon. I don't need to explain the rest of the joke, do I?