I have been asked to make many things. Twelve hands Razulei has, and they work like needles, weaving strands of magic. Craftsmen and blacksmiths will make you armour from bone, or swords from metal, but nothing compares to the work of Razulei, the demon tailor.
My strangest request ever? It came from the new god- the one called Zamorak. He came to me in the Infernal Dimensions. 'My mages claim that they are loyal, that they worship. They fawn, shout my praises, yet I couldn't trust one of them with my back turned.'
The new god was worried - he could only see disloyalty around him. The betrayal of the Empty Lord was no doubt on his mind. He requested a very special set of robes; powerful, some of the strongest I would ever make, but he asked me to infuse them with cruelty. So Razulei did, and was paid handsomely.
I kept my ears to the ground, eager for the news about the robes, out of professional pride. Some years later, a demon returned to the Infernal Dimensions. He told me that the new god had bestowed the robes on the mages of his inner circle. They were presented as a great gift. These mages were initially pleased with the robes, and they sensed the great power that could be drawn from them.
And so they drew power from the robes. They did it to overthrow their god, and pain hooked into their flesh. They desperately drew more power from the robes, to quell the pain, but it only increased. I laughed a lot at that. The new god was right, none of his men were loyal. How those mages suffered!
Only years ago, Razulei heard a strange story. The new god - no longer new, but absent instead - had followers who wished to return him to the world. These were loyal, for it was whispered that they could wear Razulei's robes without succumbing to pain. Their loyalty helped them endure that cruel agony, and, in return, they siphoned fearsome power from the robes. Razulei is pleased: it seems that the new god has finally won some loyalty.