When Millech sees Naberius, he gives him a wink and whispers, I got ye back!
Naberius tries winking back, though he is obviously unused to employing such a vulgar gesture.
The wizard stands proudly against the looming form of the judge, the severity of his expression conflicting comically with his extravagantly flamboyant robes. After Thesing has delivered his lines, he leans conspiratorially towards Mera and grabs her shoulder, making sure to throw his cape to the side to accentuate the action.
"Hold your tongue, boy, and we shall escape the firebrand yet," Naberius hisses at the actress. His "whispering" is more than loud enough to be heard by the entire audience.
"Your father was the model of a devil's squire." He pokes at her fake horns, his shackles jingling. "Summon his wiles now, and keep shut that Abyss you call a mouth, before we all tumble down into its darkness!"
Casting an exaggerated glance up at the illusionary bailiff, he sighs in exasperation. "Had you been born deaf and dumb, this loyal servant would yet live to see another midnight..."
"Hurl his arrogance and accusations back at him, Larazod. He wants precious golden-yoked truth? Give him more than he can choke down. For whether revealed by the brilliance of Aroden’s eye, or the long red shadows cast by your Dark Lord’s fiery gaze, a man false at heart and shrouded in hollow faiths is nothing more than a traitor to all. Let him that judges false be judged by wraiths—smote by his own brand shall he fall." Monday loudly reclaims while flailing her shackled arms in righteous indignation.
As Haanderthan speaks, Lazarod pays no attention, instead checking her equipment, brushing imaginary lint from her shoulders, and inspecting the architecture of the Council chamber. It is only as Dentris speaks that she straightens her shoulders and focuses on Haanderthan, and then she waits for Tybain to finish before addressing the council.
"Larazod knows no lies, great magistrate, and no slanderer’s tongue caresses my dignity. The accusations you speak are as true as Asmodeus’s sword. They cleave clean through."
Lazarod turns to the other council members, "Let the witnesses suffer no more lash. To burn their innards with pokers and steal their eyes is simply to waste precious toil better spent in Asmodeus’s service. There is but one point misaligned in this dark constellation—"
She turns back to Haanderthan, "I seek not your death, though the secrets you harbor in your feeble heart deserve a gruesome demise."
"I carry no assassin’s blade, nor breath-stealing spell to rob your mortality. To end you I need only know you, and to cast you in an honest shade. I pierce your shadows of truth and show you for what I know" - her voice drips with contempt, her disgust for Thesing easily making these lines the truth rather than acting - "a false knave, a demon-supping wag-tail, a balor’s bawd, a pus-leaking cataract in the eye of Asmodeus’s justice, and subject to the multi-handed ministrations of a marilith whore, dretchloving plunderer, and traitor to our. Great. "
She stands, unconcerned, ignoring her shackles and the bailiff as the council devolves into consider commotion.
Calsenica as Ilsandra looks nervous as she begins to say, And to think I almost spent this session in the orgybaths of Kalrath. None of their fleshy delights could compare to the ecstasy this half-breed’s words stroke within me! As she recites her lines, her voice gets stronger. See his fierce aspect burn in fury, even below the tribunal’s culling justice. But how shall Haanderthan answer?
Thesing as Haanderthan says his lines to Mera's Larazod with dripping venom. Heavy words for a forked tongue to manage, boy. You juggle them well enough, but like a poor fool, offer jest and jape. I assume this glib outrage, obviously a threadbare attempt to throw off the keening blade of justice, is backed by the testimony of a thousand law-loving fiends? Perhaps the ancient augurer at your side, ever your father’s faithful lap-lizard, probed the ancient secrets of the cosmos and uncovered my blasphemous treachery? Or have you a soulbonded scroll of bone-white parchment upon which my scrawled hand appears next to some Abyssal conspirator? You amuse me, half-breed, and it is the only reason your sniveling soul is not yet blasted away in hellfire and borne on a river of sorrow to some ignominious corner of the Nine. Whereof comes this lunacy? What disease vexes your broken mind? From what mystery of psychosis do you draw your lies? He says the last line with a smug expression.
"You mewl lies like a sullied maid on her wedding night, O Great One. Even a lord may be smote in darkness as Asmodeus sees the truth of you—a base and lowly thing, snivelling in crimson robes. These devil-bowing citizens about us are a ront enough to Aroden’s divine will, but ye, whose left hand clasps devil’s claws, and right reaches out for demonic boon—oh double-dealing end-lover, who allies with the Abyss. Infernal oaths and Abyssal blasphemy spew in one breath from your twisting lips."
Thesing winks at Monday after she delivers her lines. He then turns to Mera and tauntingly says, Does your Aroden arse-kissing pall-a-dine put you up to such resounding blasphemy? Have you no tongue of your own, half-breed, to answer my charge?
Lazarod shrugs, "Truth is spoken freely in many tongues, false magistrate, and by agents of light and dark."
She raises her manacled hands, pointing to Haanderthan, "You know what you are."
Thesing as Haanderthan, enjoys threatening Mera as Larazod and says with relish, You persist in this foolishness? It shall go hard for you and yours. Recant and your deaths shall be swift, your souls consigned to diligent service in Hell. Refuse, and enlist in agony’s service, consign your soul to wallow in the most ignominious corner of the Nine, and take eternal suffering as your bedmate.
Looking lustfully at Mera, Calesenica purrs, He’s to have a much more interesting bedmate, if I’ve anything to say. The fire that one shows at tribunal, will no doubt burn even stronger between my sheets.
"That one grows hot betwixt her infernal thighs," Naberius says, adressing the audience directly while poking his thumb back at Calseinica. "Hope beyond hope! One voice of dissent on the council and the slenderest chance of salvation is ours to clutch. Let this waxen sliver of hope not melt until she does—let her find her tongue..."
While he had some problem with the line during rehearsal, after repeating it so many times he manages to do it without flinching.
Mera scoffs loudly with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I recant . You, accuser, so stand accused. How do you answer?"
In an ominous tone, Thesing says, Speak, boy. Do you still baffle with false charges, or have your battered wits returned? Speak.
I recant nothing. You, accuser, so stand accused. How do you answer?
With an air of authority, Thesing says, Innocent, of course. And so judgment is passed. My right as magistrate puts you to the flames on my command. My word is law.
From the audience someone shouts at Thesing, Ye may be innocent of that, but ye are guilty of bad acting! The audience erupts in laghter and Thesing's cheeks turn a bright crimson.
Tactfully ignoring the heckling, Naberius puts on the expression of smug superiority that comes to him so easily. He says to Thesing, "Respectfully, my lord, when I was a barrister of the tribunal, it was common practice to ask Consular Consent in any judgement of a matter involving the Magistrate personally in the case..."
The wizard makes a sweeping gesture at the councilors. With righteous indignation in his voice, he adds, "Has the ancient code of Asmodeus' court, scorched on the Tablets of Law by our Great Lord's own fiery talon, so fallen as to warrant its complete disregard in this tribunal?"
Thesing tries to dodge a rotten tomato, but is unable to. The tomato bursts open smack dab in the middle of his chest causing a bright red stain on his costume. Flustered, he delivers the following line. Of course, you are correct, old man. I’ve no intention of affronting our Great Lord. Council, what say ye on this matter? Do you concur with my judgment? These heinous slanders cast upon my great name warrant utter annihilation. So sayeth I, Magistrate of this Gloried Tribunal. Do you agree?
The Councillors mutter and call Aye.
Ilsandra, however says, Nay.
Thesing, scanning the audience for incoming edible missiles, says, My ears deceive me. Do you, august erinyes, daughter of Hell, speak against our cause?
Calenscia barely surpresses a smile at Thesing's distress as she says the following Ilsandra line. I speak against your judgment. Our cause is yet undetermined by my mark. According to our oldest codes, truth can be drawn from an offender, as pus from a wound. Asmodeus’s Trials show the true heart from the false. Why, simply put the half-breed to the flames. Let us try him properly in accordance with the old ways.
Naberius smirks freely at Thesing's plight, disguising it as his character's excitement at the verdict. While he was unsure of the specifics in respect to the actor's relationship with Mera, Thesing was undeniably a unbearably pompous fop that deserved to be brought down a notch.
"Well done, boy!" he exclaims, clapping Mera on the shoulder. "Your pretty infernal face is good for something, even if your tongue offends all who hear. We may live yet!
Thesing tries to move out of the way of a flying orange, but like the tomato, he is unable to. The orange doinks him in the head. He unconsiously rubs the point where the orange impacted while saying, Tut, the business of the tribunal heaps higher day by day. We’ve cases waiting in the wings by the thousands. Penitent souls singing out for justice. Shall we delay their flight to Asmodeus’s waiting embrace to engage in infantile contests? Nay, expediency is our charge when matters so lacking in evidence are brought before our bench.
Ilsandra coos, Come, come, sweet magistrate. The spectacle of a few trials would do my poor heart well. I wane at these tiresome sessions. Let the trials commence. ’Twould arouse me. ’Twould tickle me. ’Twould drive me to distraction.
Shooting an angry look at the audience, Thesing's Haanerthan says,Trials you say? How now? If it is to be so, let us sweeten the pot. A price I would exact for trials as you insist. If this half-breed fails, not only is my name cleared of all preposterous charges, but you shall compact to me for a full moon’s service, to do my bidding and satisfy all my unwholesome needs.
From the audience someone yells, Yeah! Trials! Let's get on with them! We didn't pay our money to listen to you, Peacock!
Calensenica thinking it ironic that her next line seems to answer the heckler says, Let it be so agreed. I hunger so for trials, I happily wager my body to your whim. We shall see if this half-breed’s words strike true or false.
Standing even taller after the insult, Thesing says, So be it. Larazod, you stand in trial. By my discretion you shall face six of Asmodeus’s fell tests. You stand alone in the face of terrors over which no mortal has prevailed.
"NOT ALONE, my lord. I stand with him." Monday growls out triumphantly while getting to her feet. Her eyes focused on Thesing with pure focus and righteous indignation... actually her face just looked that way as she attempted to hold back laughing at the man now covered in rotten insults courtesy of the audience.
Thesing just barely misses an egg thrown at him from the audience. The theater erupts in loud guffaws. Thesing clenches his fists and says, You are under no obligation to do so, Arodenite. Back down and be discharged, to keep at your slobbering benedictions for a few more years at least.
A female heckler shouts, Or just have her listen to you drone on, that should be punishment enough! Again the theater erupts in loud guffaws.
"I am true to Aroden, my lord, but I am also true in loyalty and kinship." she responds while giving Thesing/Haanderthan a vicious smile before turning to Mera/Larazod, her smile softening somewhat and turning warmer. "This man, though half-fiend his blood may turn, is bound to me in brotherhood, as I stand bound to him. Our blades both matched the enemies of Cheliax, and what faith divides, common cause unites. You cannot sunder me from his destiny. I stand trial at his side, as is my right, if I so beclaim it."
Finally she turns to Naberius/Dentris. Is it not so, Dentris?"
Naberius takes a step foward, nodding solemnly towards Monday.
"It is true, my lord," he says. "If the half-brained, light-blinded knight wishes to perish alongside my good master, he is within his lawful right."
Thesing, seeing the end of Act I in sight says, Very well. Burn with him, fool. Dentris Maltrada, you are hereby discharged.
From the audience someone shouts, Ye should have been discharged from the play, Peacock!
Naberius puffs up his chest indignantly and scoffs.
"Nay sir, though I wish nothing more," he says with a shake of his head. "This boy, as wayward as his fancies take him, is in my care. I never waivered from his father's service, and I shall not turn my back on the son."
Four eggs come flying at Thesing each one splattering his was immaculate costume. Thesing wipes the egg drippings from his face. Surely, you’ve no wish to die? he says going on with the show.
Hey, We'd wish you to shut up! comes a shout from the audience.
Naberius scoffs again, and waves his shackled hands dismissively. His eyes contemptuously follow the yolk of an egg dripping down Thesing's breast, lending to the air of aloof superiority he is trying to project.
"There are worse fates, magistrate, than even can be promised on the deepest level of your Hell. To walk alive in a world, my duty undone, my sworn oath broken, is to walk through fires more smolderous than any Asmodeus keeps below. Though he be a fool, and possessed of a diseased wit, Larazod is my master, and I shall stand by him."
"Do your worst magistrate," he boasts. "I have rolled bones with demons, and gazed in dragons' hearts. Let us have these trials and be done with my life, if the lords of darkness so command..."
Thesing, already smelling like the food scrap barrel behind a tavern, easily sidesteps a head of cabbage thrown in his direction. With the end in sight he says, Doddering old sack of bones. No demon’s dice, nor dragon’s musings await you—only torment beyond the stars’ most
infinite imaginings. When you mewl out for merciful death, I shall look on in pleasure, as your soul’s wake burns from a withered old corpse. Make ready, supplicants. The trials begin anon. May Asmodeus take pity on your blighted souls.
As Thesing says the words 'souls' the curtain falls amid thunderous applause. As soon as the curtain touches the floor, Thesing yells for a handkerchief. Ungrateful, rude peasants!! he mutters. As Delour goes on stage to sing her songs, Thesing cleans himself up.
Delour finishes her performance with much applause and whistles. A now-clean Thesing stares resolutely at the audience as the curtain rises.
Thesing stares hard at Tal, and in a commanding voice says, Good Keeper of Pain, Tormentor of Liars and Demonsuckling Miscreants, we are honored by your presence. Show these supplicants the favor of your stinging lash, and with rack and fire, purge lies from their lips. Break their souls, and let the mad and guilty appall our ears no more with ranting.
Perform act
As the curtains rise for the second act Tal heads to his position hoping for an impressive entrance. Standing there he hears Thesing call him forward. Moving up Tal belatedly realizes that his tower shield is on the wrong arm and blocking part of the set. I fastening it and leaning it to he side Tal turns back around the wrong way to finally face Thesing.
Magistrate Maleficarum, I come before you a simple hand whose lash is guided by the greater glory of Asmodeus, Tal taps the whip on his side among a resounding clapping sound from mailed fist on full plate armor. may my scourge do him and this devoted tribunal proud. Tal then bows low in homage to the magistrate but by doing so his voice lowers too much for the back to the audience to hear him perfectly. With your permission I shall begin our first trial.
As Delour takes the stage, Naberius pulls Mera aside and procures the scroll he had purchased earlier. After activating the sigils of power on the parchment, the magic envelops Mera in multiple layers of shimmering force, which soon fade from view. He also reads another scroll, resulting in a less dramatic but similar effect on his own person.
Before Tal steps on stage, the conjurer grasps his shoulder.
"Do not hold back," he says. "Trust in my magic, as you have before..."
Naberius watches Tal stumble through his lines, mentally preparing himself for the physical challenge ahead. This was certainly not the first time he had faced corporal punishment, but he had never quite developed a taste for it either. Indeed, he had hoped to have left such things behind him at the Acadamae...
The audience snickers as Tal delivers his lines, not fully believing it. Thesing, however, seems more confident in the delivery of his. With a wicked smile he says, Begin at your leisure, Tormentor. End this fool’s mockery of our court with cleansing agony.
Kneeling next to the device, bound and shackled, Naberius starts spitting curses at Tal and Thesing.
"Fools!" he hisses. "My good master may be a fool of a tiefling, but if you think to wrack his spine, and wheedle mewled recantation from his black lips, you are even greater fools than he!"
The wizard lifts his chin up high, defiantly. "Larazod is no coward, and he sneers in the face of pain with true faith in Asmodeus—he cannot waver. He faced Abyssal Tyrants and hordes of their slime-ridden minions in battle. His coal-black soul did not quake then. He stands resolute now. You cannot break his spirit!
Tal, whip in hand fastens Mera to the device as he whispers his apologies. Standing strait again with a pained look on his face he knows that he has no choice but to apply the lash to his companions. At least Mera was somewhat protected. As such he would focus on her but the others wold feel the sting as well.
While Naberius was delivering his line Tal bent down and grabbed the wheel on the Device and gave it a turn pulling tight on Mera. Stepping back he gave Mera the first lashing.
Whip attack for nonlethal
His nerves got the better of him though as his first crack if the whip gouged the wood next to her instead of hitting the flesh. Tal knew this would not do as the audience wanted blood. Almost forgetting his line in the agony of inflicting pain on the others Tal just manages to get it out before applying another crack of the whip and turn of the wheel to Mera.
Recant half-breed. Admit your twisted falsehoods, serpent tongued traitor!
Whip attack #2 for nonlethal
Mera grimaces from the attacks, letting the audience know she feels them and that they hurt, but does not give in to show she is in pain. She look upon Tal almost with pity, her chest heaving from being stretched. "Even an ocean of agony-", several quick breaths and a grimace of pain, "cannot turn truth to lie."
Mera bites her lips as the pain from the whip breaks through the barrier. [i]Who the hell's idea was it to let Tal wield the whip! He's going to break me in half.[/ooc]
The audience doesn't know what to make of 'the device' when it is wheeled out. When the audience first sees Tal crack the whip, there are giggles and cheering. But as his whip continues to cut flesh, they become quiet with grotesque fascination. Some audience members pale visibly.
Whip attack 3 on Mera for
Whip attack 4 on Mera for
Tal cracks the whip at Mera twice more grimacing in disgust each time. Hopefully the audience takes his grimaces for determination and zeal and not for what it truly was. The pain inflicted upon Mera was getting to hm as Tal quoted the lines without much feeling to them. Recant and end this trial! Another crack of the whip against her delicate skin as red wealth and blood started to appear. The turning of the device as well brought pain to Tal. Swift death shall embrace you and Asmodeus smiles upon those who admit their falsehoods—he may not rend your soul completely, may leave some semblance of your spirit intact.
Oh gods when is this going to be over!
The barrier is helping, but the pain still seeps through. Gods! This s not acting, this is torture. Literally.
Her breathing is accelerated and though she is in obvious pain she delivers her lines perfectly through clenched fists. "Even an ocean of agony cannot turn truth to lie."
The barrier is helping, but the pain still seeps through. Gods! This s not acting, this is torture. Literally.
Her breathing is accelerated and though she is in obvious pain she delivers her lines perfectly through clenched fists. "I recant nothing! Grind on, honeyed torment. Sing sweetly as I may, no cries of recant shall you hear. I hate lies, as I hate demon-loving traitors."
As Tal continues to apply the torture quite effectively, Mera struggles to keep the stoic persona of Lazarod. Though in pain, she manages to effectively present that pain through her inate acting ability as Lazarod's pain rather than her own.
Raising her voice an octave and in a nearly mocking tone she adds "Had enough, Magistrate? Can you withstand it any longer? Please give in and recant, for the only torment I cannot bear is your continued duplicity. Recant, Magistrate! Recant your own lies, and Asmodeus may have mercy on your slimy soul."
As Mera continues Larazod's denial Tal is forced to continue the lashings much against his will. Still this was for 'the greater good'
as they hoped. At least Tal hoped that there was some promise of good to come from this.
Lashing Mera #5 for
Lashing Mera #6 for
When Moinday speaks up as Tybain Tal switches his focus to her for a single lashing as she was not as well protected. Hopefully between acts Areal would be able to channel his energy to heal them all. He hoped so anyways.
Lashing #7 Monday for
Likewise when 'Ilsandra' spoke Tal applied a single lash to Naberius. It just was not fair that he had to inflict this cruelty upon his companions. It would have been better had he received the lashings instead.
Lashing #8 Naberius for
"Ha! Even in the face of soul-crushing pain, he taunts this ridiculous Magistrate of Hell. Hear me, Aroden, if Asmodeus has such as Larazod in his employ, all our efforts are doomed. Would your white fist command such steadfast loyalty as this one here, who laughs at death and grins at the grimmest pain." Monday snatls out at Tal, a sentiment that would have been far more realistic had he whipped her before her line.
The moment Monday is struck a long, low growl can be heard emanating from backstage.
What? No, you may not rip out Tal's spine and strangle him with it.
No, you can't do that either.
Calsenica, pale at seeing the torture close up, nonetheless is able to say in a lusty voice, Such a sweet voice. I long to hear his screams more—ah, but to elicit them myself, with a soulburning kiss, and an aching embrace. This torture is most stimulating, though I do hope the Tormentor doesn’t mar the tiefling’s choicest parts. Leave off those! They belong to me alone!
Tal hears the pleas from Calsenica and turns towards her. Bowing his head in accordance with her wishes Tal returns to the task at hand. Bringing the whip back Tal gives 2 more lashes to the resilient Mera glad that this is the last of them.
Whipping #9 Mera for
Letting his shoulders slump in mock fatigue Tal pants out Recant!
As Mera gives her line Tal applies the whip for the last time.
Whipping #10 Mera for
Gritting her teeth she bites back the pain and proclaims, " Lash every inch of flesh from me, leave only a bloody ruin where I stand that skinned wreck of a man will gurgle only truth and never recant."
Mera stares up at Tal, waiting for him to drop the whip, praying he remembers there is no more whipping. Drop the whip, drop the whip.
Tal turns to Thesing and flings the whip down in disgust. He is as unbreakable as a marble tide—dragon’s scale would have shattered long ago—and yet he stands unbowed.
Giving his pronouncement to the panel Tal looks at Calseinica so he does not have to look at Mera, Monday, or Naberius after flogging them. No lie can evade this unholy lash of mine, gifted to me by Asmodeus himself. Ending with a loud voice, Larazod must speak the truth!
I don't know what the real torture is at this point. The whip? Or whoever wrote this trash.
Thesing, enjoying Mera's predicament, says with a hint of smile, Fool! Continue the trial, you’ve yet to probe deep enough into his soul’s painful lies!
True anger comes forward as Tal turns on Thesing. It was clear that Thesing was not acting and truly enjoyed the lashings that Tal subjected the others too. My work is done. My findings true. Gathering up the whip that he cast aside he coils it slowly as he seethes t Thesing. You have never doubted
my hand before. Why do you so now?
Tal begins to unshackle Mera from the Device as quickly as possible. As an aside to himself but loud enough for all to hear while he does so, Could it be this tiefling speaks true? Louder now and directly to Thesing, Are you allied against our august master of darkness?
Thesing can barely contain his giddiness as he says, Mind your place, Tormentor! You speak blasphemy in the face of this land’s own Magistrate Maleficarum. Beware, your words endanger your very soul. Take you this halfbreed’s part? Then you would join him on his trials? Don’t be a fool.