The creature, they said, had been found on the coast of an island. Chewed up and spit out of the Tuor, a group of smugglers had snatched it up quick, even before reports of a 'red devil' began to pass around portside. An imp was a lot of worth to sell to dark mages, who could bind it to their will or grind its horns down to use in a potion. While hearsay spread of a strange creature sighted along the coast, they threw it in a cage, enchanted its containment until it was suitably magic-resistant, then set out towards the Hivan. Serendipity was their goal, their cargo hidden under a black tarp so no passerby would take note.
Their only fear was the magically inclined. Magic users were said to detect other magic users. Even over the open sea, a Serendipitian vessel full of mages could scent the power radiating off their boat. So the smugglers' own magician, a weak urchin they'd hired off the street, did his best to continuously bolster their ship with cloaking spells. Every pulse seemed to weaken him more and more, but he continued his incantations in the cargo hold, next to the covered cage.
From outside, the ship passed along, as if innocent of the deed being done within it.
Fury could still hear the hypnotic voice of the siren in his mind, though his memories of the incident were fuzzy. All he remembered was choking on saltwater, feeling a tail curling around his legs, the sensation of being pulled under when he'd just managed to find freedom. Other than the suffocating sensation of being drowned, he didn't recognize anything. All he knew upon waking from his stupor was that he was no longer underwater.
First he noticed the cold and how dark it was. Under his body was a cold, metal surface. Above was a ceiling and on his sides bars. The bars radiated with a soft, golden glow. Both that magical light and his own furnace-like stomach created enough light to see that, between each bar, black fabric blocked his vision of the outside world. His body felt heavy, sluggish. It was like he was being kept down by a whole lot of force.
Meanwhile somebody was blathering on in tongues outside. Fury cracked an eye open, sneering. The chanting droned on in his ears, making his body feel chained to the floor of his cage. He wanted to say something, snarl and rattle the bars, but he found he lacked the strength to do so. It was enough to make him furious, but unless something happened in his favor out there, he was trapped.