He has a spell that tells him when anyone puts something in his mailbox, because otherwise he'd forget to check it for years and it would be even less useful than it currently is.

A gust of wind flows down the mountain to check his mail.

Usually whoever delivers the letter bolts after their task is done.

This person is not bolting. He is calmly walking away at a comfortable pace, like he's not completely terrified of being snatched by the Lord of the Howling Mountain.

Well. It's probably polite to read the letter first.

He materializes by the mailbox and opens it.

Hey,

I'm from a bit of a ways away and have heard about you from some people in the nearby city. I'm sure you can guess what they said. I'd like to hear your side of the story, if you're willing to spend a few minutes talking to a random stranger about it. Do you mind if I drop by for a chat?

- Veron Chandler

He glances down the road. The person who delivered the letter is still visible, walking away from the mountain.

Just to see what happens, he conjures a note and seals it with the wax from the parcel. (It reads: Most people find my reputation intimidating.)

The wax is an inky black that seems to eat light, and when pressed to the letter, swirls with a deep purple. The entire note turns black and then disappears.

Down the road, the man who delivered the letter stops, catches something out of the air, and reads it. He looks back at Serik, then turns around and begins walking back.

Serik stands by the mailbox and waits.

"Hi," he says. "A few people find my reputation intimidating too, I don't see why that means we can't talk. Is now a good time...?"

"I'm not busy. And I'm really curious what you can possibly have heard about me that made you think 'oh, yeah, definitely a good idea to get that guy's attention'."

He snorts, then shrugs.

"Call it force of habit? I have a history of tripping over problems and landing face first in them."

"And so this time you decided to get in ahead of the game and leave a note in trouble's mailbox?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I suppose there's a kind of logic to that."

"Plus, I'm - I somehow became the person most experienced at dealing with weird problems that everyone else is rightly afraid to touch. So uh. Hi. I'm Veron, professional lost person, pleasure to meet you."

"What are you expecting to accomplish here?"

He shrugs, awkwardly.

"I'm not expecting much in particular, I don't know enough about the situation. I'd like to hear what's going on from your perspective? You kidnap people, what's it for?"

"To torture them."

"... Okay," says Veron, after a brief surprised pause, "why?"

"Because it's fun. Also because the mountain will explode if I stop."

"Which part of the torture's important? Is it like, feeding people into a magical meat grinder, or..?"

"...why?"

"Well, maybe there's a way to get you the thing you're looking for without kidnapping people for it. I know at least one erinyes that would be, uh." He coughs. "Happy to be tortured?"

"At least one what?"

"Uh. An erinyes is a type of devil, specifically a type that's human shaped, female, and has a pair of wings. Devils are things that live on another plane of existence and are typically super evil and want to hurt people for fun. Some of them react to this societal quirk differently than others."

"Where are you from?"