He needs to be polite to the weird cryptic man to avoid offending him, but Cayden is very upset and very tired and polite sentences just don't seem to be happening.

He finally manages, "Cayden Cailean, Chaotic Neutral adventurer visiting from a different planet."

Does anyone seem to know who Raphael is?

Everyone else looks equally confused at this man who has just teleported here. 

"I do appreciate directness. Though what I need to say to requires more privacy and--" he gestures to the road around them "--Refinement. This is all too middle of nowhere for that." He clicks his fingers--

-- and it turns out he's powerful enough to teleport the whole party.

There in a richly appointed room, with a high ceiling and table covered in a feast that's almost sarcastically lavish. Above the crackling fire place is an oil portrait of a devil.

"There, " he smiles. "Middle of somewhere."

"What do you have to say, sir?"

"You all have unwelcome passengers in your heads, do you not? One might say you're looking for a solution to that little problem of yours. One I can provide." Another click of his fingers. In a puff of smoke, he goes from human to something horned and winged-- the spitting image of the devil in the portrait. 

He smirks. "What's better than a devil you don't know? The devil you do. Am I a friend? Potentially. Am I am an adversary? Conceivably. Am I a saviour? Now, that's for certain."

"Fuck off."

What, not even touching the finger food? "Oh, I don't expect you to accept just now. But when you feel the tentacles poking out of your face? When no one else you've found can deal with your little problem? The doors to the House of Hope will be open for you."

"I am extremely fucking tired of being dicked around by powerful and cryptic archmages or outsiders or whatever you are. I have dealt with three of you in the past twelve hours." Admittedly Aunt Ethyl was his own fault. "Use your nigh-omniscience to coordinate with each other better. And just to be clear I'd rather die than be a diabolist."

A fact that, Aroden's balls, is definitely not true of Astarion.

He looks at his nails. "Well, if you're that uninterested, I can call it here for introductions." 

Another click of his fingers, and Cayden and his party are back on the road they started on,  sans devil.

"Well."

"He's a cambion. And I would recommend making no deals with him."

"Great. A Chaotic Evil being trying to buy my soul. What a refreshing change of pace from Lawful Evil soul sales."

"Oh, he's lawful evil."

"Cambions are... Chaotic Evil outsiders produced when an incubus kidnaps a woman to the Abyss and impregnates her? Or a slur for tieflings."

"It's a word for any child of a fiend and another species. Most are the children of incubi, but our friend there was definitely the child of a devil." Please don't question how he knows that. 

"Oh, we call those half-fiends. Stupid ring."

"Tongues is a wonderful spell, right up until it isn't."

"It's certainly a lot better than trying to communicate which people I should stab via mime."

"This is true."

"It wouldn't be effective, but I would love to watch it happen."

"I hate Hell. Not as much as Xovaikain but it's a near thing."

"Xovaikon?"

"Do you not-- oh, you wouldn't. The divine realm of the god of suffering and torture. He doesn't actually bother most people very much, he's spends all his time micromanaging one country in order to make sure everyone there suffers as much as possible. More of an Evil artist, less of an Evil craftsperson."

... "I can see why you dislike! We have one of those, but it's in Hell, and at least Loviatar doesn't have her own country."

"...I did a couple of Nidal runs-- that's his country-- but I got close to being Maledicted so I stopped, because I'm actually a coward."