cosmiy's Way of the Wicked Campaign (Group A)

Game Master cosmiy

Calming at Kaythor's words, even if the situation seems more volatile.

"Put the glaive down, or you'll find out the hard way!" (And you've used the one good female-appropriate name that really can't be one-upped by anything.)

As though to enunciate her viciousness, Cinders narrowed her eyes at Katrin's great weapon. The metal begins heating uncomfortably.

Using matter agitation for one or two rounds to heat the glaive.

Victor sighs a bit, moving a couple of steps to between the two women. Maybe some men wouldn't be the one to break up a cat fight, but Kaythor saw the blood of Asmodeus's faithful as precious, and he didn't want it spilled here.

"Now now ladies, by the sounds of it, none of us are the sheep of Mitra. Which should be obvious since we are not weak little children. That being said, we are all on the same side." He puts up his hands, open, towards the two women, "So lets just settle down and get to know each other, and why we are here at this mysterious house."

The door is suddenly opened by a young, athletic man with blank eyes, and Tiadora steps out into the night. She is as lovely as ever, now dressed in a diaphanous white gown that makes her look angelic. But her words are anything but.
"I didn't intend you all to get this far for you all to kill each other."she says with a sigh. "Either do it elsewhere, or come inside and talk. All of you were sent here for the same reason, and the master will not be pleased if he hears about this." Looking at Taemon'dow and Katrin, she elaborates. "I was hoping that all six of you would have escaped from the prison, but I knew that would not be the case. So I found these three. They may not have come from Branderscar, as you did, but they are equally useful to the master's plan. There is another, but he is upstairs, waiting for the master to see him- relaxing and recuperating from his journey, as you may do if you will simply come inside and stop fighting."

Henar perks at the sound of new people, understanding the hustle and bustle of servants to signal that, either they'd been discovered (which wasn't likely, from the tone, which seems less than frantic) or the guests had arrived. He makes his way down from his room, stuffing Quandry into the satchel, but remaining inside the house until the Lady begins doing introductions.

The blade of the glaive slowly lowers. Katrin gives Cinder a nod as way of apology and then says, "That was the idea. Thanks." to Tiadora. "Who wants to tell me of this Dark Prince you all keep muttering about? His ways weren't included in the tutoring at my father's manor. I know him only as the devil, the great evil 'other'. I'm grateful for the rescue, but would know more before I sign my soul away."

Cinders nods, releasing her power over the glaive. She momentarily rubs her temple with her fingers as she follows Tiadora inside. "I wasn't fighting. I was defending myself." She says quietly, almost demurely.

It is at that moment that Henar descends the stairs, always a fan of a grand entrance. He pulls the gloves further up his arms, leaving only the small amounts of his face visible, peeks of his white eyes and dust-stained blue skin between gaps in the fabric of the robe, cowl, and cloak. The leather of his boots squeak a bit and he seems quite...refreshed.

The fairly young samsaran (as the seventies are mere youth for his kind) clears his throat. "He is the one being who had enough worship to make the current leadership of this sad country so p*#s scared that they outlawed his worship and chose to hunt down anyone who would do anything to bring him back to his rightful place in the pantheons of this country. The great law-maker and contract creator, if I remember correctly." His tone is dry, like the type a professor would have, but the cowl does move enough to show what is likely a smile.

Kaythor smiles and gives a bow to Tiadora as she opens the door. "Oh it is nothing to worry about, I think we are all a bit weary of strangers in this land." He then steps to the side of the door and motions for the two women to enter the house before he does.

He nods to Menar, "So true, it would seem this land is so desperate for true power that they would turn to that imposter Mitra while banishing the true source. But what more can you expect from fools?" He adjusts his cloak, throwing it back to reveal his armor and the holy symbol hanging from his neck.

Katrin will enter the house.

"Tiadora, I am hurt that I have been relegated to the a mere after thought, a back up plan and a second choice." The voice was strong and though he did not raise his voice much, it carried with it the commanding resonance of someone skilled at making himself heard.

Though previously either unnoticed or unacknowledged by the gathering that only moments ago was nearly at each others throats, the man who spoke stepped closer to the threshold now and deliberately made a show of sheathing his previously naked sword. In the dim light provided by that floating lantern, it was clear that he was dressed in the bloody uniform of a soldier of crown. Despite the recent bruises which showed most noticibly in a swollen, purple ringed eye, he was without question a handsome man with dark brown hair and equally dark, hungry eyes. The man possessed strong and prominent facial features, like those one would imagine on a senator or a military leader. Around his neck he openly displayed a heavy iron symbol proclaiming him a follower of Asmodeus, though there was another unholy symbol within the five pointed star that was not nearly as familiar.

His lips were curled downward in a harsh frown as he stared at Tiadora and then glanced at the others gathered near the doorway. He did not speak up in the defense of the Prince of Darkness nor did he at the moment attempt to educate the warrior woman of the faith of the Asmodeus. She appeared to be of a type that only understood power and strength and he was certain that in time she would learn of the power he granted to those he favored.

"I brought with me a companion, I hope our host does not mind. Wencelas will not say much." There was a trace of mockery and humor in his voice as his 'companion' silently and obediantly followed Artorius. Flies buzzed about the skeletal remains of a former soldier of the crown. Bits of flesh clung here and there to the bones, but for the most part the muscles and tissues had been peeled away by the power of the Prince of Hell. Bare skeletal feet carried it forward and it seemed to possess now only the remains of armor, a weapon belt and most of it's former armaments. Empty eye sockets were lit by an unnatural purple spark.

Without allowing the chance for argument or objection he stepped into the house with the skeletal remains of Wencelas. He was thankful at the present that no spasm or seizure gripped him, weakening or shaming him before the eyes of these strangers.

Kaythor chuckles a bit at the wry joke of Artorius. Following after the herd. As he is the last one to enter the house he gives a quick glance outside to make sure they isn't anyone else before shutting the door firmly behind the group.

"For those who didn't catch it, I am Kaythor" He said as they walked, following the beautiful Tiadora into the house. He looked for a place to set his backpack with shield, figuring it wouldn't be needed in here, and set it down upon finding an appropriate place.

"Good to meet a fellow follower of the Prince. Kaythor was it?" He grins again, shifting the cowl a bit so the shape of his lips can be seen.

"My name is Henar, cunning fiend and a former keeper of Waystation 12 on the underground railroad." He scoffs at the last part. "Amazing how such a little thing can get you the attention of the horrible hunter Balin of Karfeld" He lifts the cowl enough to show his mouth, to spit at the mere mention of the name.

Tiadora examines her hands as she speaks. "The Master is an expert on Asmodean theology, perhaps one of the eldest priests we have remaining on this isle. He will be able to explain much better than I."
She steps back into the house. The foyer is large, and from it they can see a large hallway with various doors that intersects another hallway in a T-Shape, near the staircase leading upstairs. Also accessible from the foyer is a setting room, currently being dusted by another blank-eyed youth. Taemon'dow is reminded of how the Sergeant looked when entranced by Tiadora when seeing them.
"Don't think of yourself as a backup, dearest." She tells Antonius. "Had all six from the prison come, I'm sure we could have worked something out. The Master always has plans."
"You may meet him in a few minutes, but first you must look presentable. Slaves!" She claps her hands and various slaves come to attend her. They all stand to attention, making a line behind her, bowing to her slightly. "These are our guests. Take them upstairs to their rooms. I want them cleaned, dressed, and refreshed. Quickly." Something in her last word makes it sound like a threat. Many slaves scramble to help the guests, while others scurry to other rooms, presumably to get things for them. When the guests are ready, the slaves will escort them upstairs to their rooms. Tiadora examines Wencelas, then looks Antonius again. "Would you like him in your room, or elsewhere? I'm sure we have places in the house to keep him, but I understand if you'd like to keep him with you."

Kaythor follows where he is directed. Growing up from humble beginnings he isn't used to slaves, but is in no way distraught by their presence. Rather, he finds the change a welcome one. He makes his way up to the room as he is directed, carrying with him the bag of gear and his shield with him.

In the room he does his best to tidy his appearance and leave all but what he felt was most necessary in the room. After all, carrying a sword wouldn't be seen as a sign of trust, even if it were simply for show.

He listened to the introduction made of two of the guests, one of those being the strange blue skinned Samsaran. He had read of such beings and had seen one played on the stage twice, but had never encountered a flesh and blood Samsaran and was intrigued. About to introduce himself, he paused when Tiadora took charge of the situation and decided to wait till later. He felt a growing spasm in his right arm and he quickly seized his wrist and held it firm, even as his swollen eye twitched. His shoulder contorted slightly, but he managed to keep the involuntary paroxysm under control.

To Tiadora he gave a bowing dip of his head and inhaled deeply, before speaking, his words escaping with his breath. "I am certain we would have." He forced a thin smile to reach his lips and then exhaled more deeply when the convulsion of his muscles passed. Artorius never for a moment believed himself to be backup. He had already killed the soldiers escorting him. If he had been forced into it he would be willing to kill again. Though he did not consider himself a blood thirsty man, he did find a preverse satisfaction in first forcing Wencelas to take the life of his fellow soldier and then stripping him of his life force and turning him into his unliving puppet.

"I think it best that Wencelas remain with me. He could use a bath and some fresh clothes as well. Concealing garb if any are on hand." He thought it a good idea to clean away the muck and blood from the skeleton and providing it new clothing might serve to keep it's true nature unrevealed. It did not seem that the other guest were too discomforted with being in the room with an animated corpse, but the majority of the citizens of the nation would be.

Finally got off work.

El'la introduces her self to the group. "El'la Scaldrein, but most people call me Cinders since my first name is fairly difficult to say if you aren't fluent in Ignan."

She removes her heavy cloak, unconcealing the fairly revealing red and gold attire that accented her tanned skin and burnished copper hair. A thick red book hung on gold-colored chains over one hip, and a black and red book with a familiar unholy symbol hung over the other.

"A chance to freshen up might be nice. I just hope the Master has a large, roaring fire in his fireplace."

This lot's even more f*cked in the head than I am. Katrin thinks, looking around the collection of Asmodean servants topped off by a still bloody animate corpse. Still, they are better than Mitrans. At least no one is trying to lock me up and behead me. When the slaves enter she smiles. Her noble breeding takes over as she addresses her assigned slave, "Yes, quickly now. A bath is most urgently desired." She follows the slave, relishing in having someone who does what she says without comment or argument. Once in her room she waits for the slave to bathe her and present her with new clothes.

Henar will just smirk and head back to his room, mulling over the various odd individuals that he is now grouped with. "I'm sure we're all just as black-hearted deep down as the other. Can't be TOO nice, if we made it here."

The rooms upstairs are quite comfortable, one for each person. Each has a warm bed, a writing desk, drawers, closet, and, oddly enough, a weapons rack. There are also various shelves for the guests to put other things on. The slaves here are quick and efficent. The ones who escort the guests upstairs arrive moments before the ones who went elsewhere, coming into the room with plates of meat, cheese, grapes and bread. In addition to the water poured out for the baths, there is also cold, refreshing water in a jug that the servants will pour into glasses if they sense the guests are getting thirsty. The tubs are located in small bathrooms adjoining the rooms, and the servants manage to pour water in them fast enough. The servants who escorted the guests upstairs are the ones who stay with them, helping them bathe if needed, or leaving the room to give privacy if that's what they prefer.
When baths are over, they bring over very fine clothing from the closets of the rooms. The clothes are perfectly sized for each person, perhaps begging the question of how they knew what sizes each of you wore. In addition, they seem like the sort of clothes they would wear for nice occasions. The slaves similarly help their masters get dressed if they'd like, or again leave to allow privacy. During this time they don't speak much. They don't seem hesitant to follow any order or instruction, and never seem to find anything odd. They help bathe Wencelas without blinking an eye, though they have a bit more difficulty finding clothes for him. They do their best to make the guests comfortable.

What's on the weapon racks?

El'la lovingly touches the beautiful red and gold gown with subtle hints of the Asmodean unholy symbol, and the little flicker of red sparkle that resembles flame when the gown moves. After a scalding hot bath to scour herself clean, she dresses in the gorgeous gown, and matching red slippers and waits for the inevitable summons.

Coal stays warm, still wrapped in the hood of El'la's thick cloak. He gets out and looks around the room once or twice, but doesn't really see anything interesting, so goes back inside.

El'la gently wakes him up and puts him on her shoulder, where the black and red lizard could hold her gold necklace.

Artorius noticed almost immediately the power of the enchantment that bent the slaves to the will of Tiadora and the mysterious Master of the house. While it wasn’t the absolute command that he had over the animated remains of Wencelas, in many ways their obedience was more advantageous. Rather than reassure him, the doe eyed complicity of the slaves unnerved him. Tiadora and her master were more powerful than Artorius initially believed. Yet Tiadora’s patron had expended a good deal of resources not only to aid in Artorius’s escape, but also to help free the others. The large, blond haired warrior woman and her silent companion had apparently escaped from Branderscar itself, which Artorius knew was no small feat. They could be powerful allies. When the time came, he would need to be certain their loyalties aligned.

Artorius bathed and dressed himself in private, after stripping away the bloody uniform he had worn. His bathing was not pleasant. He gurgled down more than a little water when his entire body was gripped by a spastic convulsion, causing his back to contort painfully and his right arm to flail uselessly. Though it only lasted thirty nine seconds it reminded him of the injustices that had been inflicted upon him and the hardened his resolve to correct his situation. Before he bathed he had instructed the slaves to polish the chain shirt and lay out several outfits for him to choose from. The clothing he ultimately settled on featured purple and black, and while expensive and well tailored to fit him did not seem garish or overly fancy. Though he retained weapon belt with the sword he had claimed, he left the chain shirt unworn and the morning star on the weapon rack. He did not trust Tiadora or her master, but neither did he think they intended to attack him with anything that a few links of chain would protect against.

When he returned from cleaning himself and exiting his bowels, he gave the slaves the unenviable task of scrubbing the bones of Wencelas clean and then finding clothing for the skeleton. He thought there would be more humor in that act, but the slaves never blinked or shuddered with distaste, ruining what little amusement he might have gleaned from the bizarre ritual. He had them fit Wencelas with the most concealing cloak they had as well, and commanded the skeleton to obedience during the whole process.

He only sampled the food and drink after first taking the necessary precautions, uttering a divination openly that allowed his to detect traces of poison or toxin in each of the items. Provided he found nothing suspicious, he drank and ate his fill, finding eating a little painful at first, but eventually the knots in his stomach ceased and his hunger took over. He ate quickly and then descended the stairs once more, turning back when the newly clothed Wencelas began to follow. “No. Stay put.” Artorius then turned to the slaves that remained in his room. “I suggest you leave and advise all not to enter this room until after I return.” He waited for them to comply and then turned back to his undead servant. “Guard the chamber Wencelas. Let none enter save myself.” He then strode down the stairs, almost fumbling once when his foot cramped, but he surprisingly caught himself on the banister and managed to hobble the rest of the way down the steps. Tiadora had mentioned that they were to meet their patron shortly and so he had done all this as hastily as was possible.

Kaythor grinned to himself as he finally got a taste of what true luxury felt like. He had grown very used to the general public and their distaste for his message, and by extension, him. Its true that he did not need the food, but he enjoyed the experience of it all. He enjoyed being pampered at the hands of the slaves and did not for a moment lament their plight. On the contrary, he thought they should consider themselves lucky for the privilege of serving their master, and by extension, Asmodeus himself.

Kaythor set the slaves to various jobs as he entered the room. Letting some of them clean his gear from the muck of the road, polishing the chainmail and weaponry. He had no intention of wearing it to meet the master of the manor, however he did not want the opportunity of free labor to go to waste. Taking a bath he relaxed in the water, leaving his necklace and holy symbol around his neck the entire time. It seemed never to leave his neck, as it served as a reminder of everything he owed to his true master.

Upon getting dressed he found clothing of a dark red and black. He made sure it was in perfect condition before dressing himself and preparing to meet with Tiadora and the others. He decided to capitalize on this time before they were called the best way he knew how, by meditating. Focusing his mind for the journey ahead of him, now in his third life.

Henar would simply groom his scorpion, giving himself some time to breath easier without the cowl around his face. He mutters quietly to the scorpion, trying to gauge its appreciation of the group. "Quandry...We soon will serve the Master again...It'll be glorious, and all will tremble to realize that the Lord's plan never failed, but that it simply slumbered until all the right pieces were in play."

The small clacks and chitters of the scorpion were taken as meaningful agreement, and when the time comes, he escorts his "teacher" into the padded satchel, joining the others when the time comes, donning the cowl again, although much looser.

Ah, empty weapon racks. For our weapons, I see.

Katrin will stow her glaive and longsword and then dress in an undyed grey wool tunic and breeches, with plain sturdy leather boots. She puts her chain shirt back on and straps a dagger to her belt before making her way downstairs.

Yup, for you to put your own weapons on.

After allowing them to rest and recuperate for a little more than three hours, Tiadora finally comes to collect the guests. She collects those who are upstairs, and brings them to those who are already waiting downstairs. When everyone is ready, she walks them to her master's office. Tiadora herself is mostly silent now, but the walk gives the guests another chance to see just how large the house is. Walking by, they can catch glimpses of people who don't seem to be slaves in various other rooms, talking amongst each other, but Tiadora doesn't wait for anyone to stop and examine them. When she gets to the room she simply knocks once on the door.
"Tiadora, have you brought them?"
"Yes, Master."
"Well then, come in."
Tiadora opens the door to reveal a beautifully furnished study, with a large desk, leather high backed chair, and various smaller chairs, equally comfortable, for the guests to sit on if they'd like. The room is decorated with sumptuous brocade tapestry. A devilishly handsome bald man is sitting on the chair, dressed in an elaborate black and red garment with gold embelishments.
"Ah, welcome, welcome. I'm so glad you six have finally made it. Taemon'dow, Katrin, I believe you two are the first to ever escape from Branderscar prison. Well done- though you did have help from the outside." He smiles at Tiadora, who makes her place to stand behind him, as if guarding her master. "A pity about the other four, but it is true that only the strong survive in life. Or at least it should be the rightful place of things. And El'la, Artorius, Kaythor, Henar, I am sure you had to go through many troubles to get here as well. I am sure that all of your talents will be put to good use."
"But, I am sure that you wish to know more about me. You must be curious why I have aided you, why you have been asked to come here. This is no mere act of altruism, of course. I am Cardinal Adrastus Thorn, the last high priest of Asmodeus left here on the island of Talingarde. Once, in more glorious days, the prince of Nessus was revered alongside the other high powers. But now the king and his nobles have forgotten what made this land great, bowed to the priests of Mithra who will destroy any other worship except that of the inspid sun god. It has made them weak.
For such blasphemy, I will see that those who have imprisoned or condemned you will suffer. Your enemies, those that you hate, will be crushed." He turns to Taemon'dow and Katrin now. "I know what you have suffered, for I have faced it myself." He reveals the same runic brand of an F on his hand, the Forsaken brand that those two bear.. "We will burn Talingarde to the ground, and and from its ashes I will build a new nation who knows its rightful master! The only question is, will you join me? Are you worthy servants of his dark majesty?"
"Join me and I shall raise you up in the eyes of men and gods. I will make you princes and princesses of a new Talingarde, if you will swear your loyalty to me and our lord, Asmodeus. Put aside forgiveness, and I will give you vengence. Put aside mercy, and I will make you powerful. Put aside peace, and become my harbringers of war. Asmodeus rewards the powerful, he helps those who will only help themselves! What say you? Will you swear your allegiance, or will you burn with the rest of the blind fools?"

Henar removes the cowl fully, wrapping it around his arm, seeing this will be a time for full speech. His lips, the shade of oxygen-deprived flesh, move slowly as he begins to answer. "Asmodeus received no mercy or forgiveness. Nobody here has had any peace since our capture. I say we seize the day, night, and all times in between for the Prince of Nessus. But, what are the terms of this allegiance, because I have met with agents before, and I know: it all has a price."

He reminds me of Dr. Evil.

Doesn't sound bad so far, but lets see what the others ask him first... Katrin stays silent for the time being, her face betraying nothing of her thoughts, her arms crossed over her chest.

Hmmm, In my mind, he looks more like THIS

"If the Dark Prince asks for my soul, I am prepared to give it. I have died once before, and know what waits for me beyond this life." El'la (Cinders) says. She invokes a small amount of flame in her hands, though not enough to harm anyone, just to warm herself. "I want to be a part of New Talingarde. And perhaps, even rename it Talonguard, a sign that it is indeed in the clutches of one powerful enough to make all things equal once again."

She kneels on the sumptuous carpet. "Master, might I call you Father? You remind me so much of another Priest of Asmodeus who brought me back to life. There is much that I would swear to, and place my life willingly in the hands of a greater power."

Kaythor nods in agreement with Cinder's first statement. "I too am willing to serve in any way I can. The Dark Lord has given me this life so that I might give it back to him in service."

He folds his hands behind his back, watching the Cardinal carefully. "However I will of course need to hear more of this plan before I jump headlong into your service. After all, the Prince has many ways of achieving his glory, and although I wish to be first to see Talingarde and the Mitran fools burn; it must be done in a way that glorifies the Prince." His tone was very respectful, but also wary, as anyone in his line of work would be.

The Cardinal nods to El'la. "I would be honored by the gesture, El'la. And I should like to know more of this priest who resurrected you, though perhaps later."
He explains to the others, "I plan to destroy Talingarde through various designs, not all of which are set in stone. But I have been aided and counseled by devils of the Dark Prince himself, and know that we will make the people of Talingarde suffer in all ways. We shall smash their hollow faith, lay waste to their troops, we will punish them for all they have done, and we then we shall build anew. But the Dark Prince is also subtle, and so at times we must hide our true mission until it is ready to be revealed."
"The bond that we shall build will be enforced by a standard Asmodean contract- if either party violates the terms, they shall suffer all the wrath of Hell. I have it, if you would like to read it."

He pulls out two copies of a contract on some strange leather, written in a dark red ink. He allows the group to read them, if they would like.

Henar chuckles and smiles, signing quickly and without hesitation. "Reminds me of the good ol' days..." he says, more to himself than anyone else.

"A good sight better deal than my own family ever offered me. If you promise me I won't be forced to let a man have his way with me, then I'll sign your contract master Thorn." Katrin says after reading it over. "I will require instructions on how to venerate Asmodeus, I'm rather ignorant of his faith's creed."

El'la rises to look over the contract, sensing the promise in the blood-red words on a parchment of flesh. She also signs, as a shudder of pleasure goes through her. "I can already feel the darkness coming over me, Father. But I notice this makes no mention of our souls. Are they, then, still ours (for a time)? Perhaps a later and greater contract will present itself informing us how we may each individually serve the Dark Prince..."

Kaythor smirked a bit at Katrin's request. Not that it was an unreasonable request, but he thought it interesting that Katrin would make a request. She obviously did not know much about Asmodeus. He is not one to allow for clauses attached to his contracts. The Prince of Darkness was one of black and white... mainly black.

Kaythor didn't seem phased however. He felt indebted to his father below and he would continue his journey of paying that debt back in full. He took his turn signing the contract, carefully applying his name to the contract after he whispered a few words to himself. After backing up to let the others have their turn, he turned to the cardinal, "So Master, when do we begin? I am anxious to bring the Mitran's to their knees."

Ah, I should have mentioned this- there aren't any ink or pens in the room. There is a silver knife and two quills on the table
"Of course not. I would hope that all my servants would treat each other as equals, and I myself would never do such a thing. I cannot add it directly to the contract, but I will promise it to you, none the less. Tiadora and I will instruct you in such devotion, and I am planning training before I consider your group ready to go out into Talingarde and enact the will of Asmodeus. It shall cover various areas, mainly the precepts of Asmodeus and how one... applies them in the field."explains Cardinal Thorn.
"For now your soul is yours. There are certain contract devils of Asmodeus large in Talingarde, searching out the worthy. One of them aided me in writing this contract, in fact. The contracts made by such devils, however, often involve the loss of one's soul."

With the silver knife, El'la Cinders pricks the tip of her finger, releasing a blood that glows orange for a brief second before it is subdued to a normal red color after being exposed to the air.

"Then, here is my signature. For now, my life is Asmodeus's, and my soul is my own."

She signs her name in blood.

"What precisely would happen to those souls? I would certainly enjoy the chance not to be continuing in this forsaken reincarnation cycle."

He nods and listens to the entire shpeal and then repeats the motions of Cinders.

"I have heard that the weakest souls are consumed and the strongest ones become petitioners to the Courts in Dis. The many layers of hell have places of infernal beauty for all of us. At least that is what the book says." Cinders passes the red and black book hanging from her hip to Henar.

"Many thanks...If the book is right, then I would hope it...fixes my family's issues." Henar takes the book and reads over it while the others make their choices.

Katrin nods, slits a small cut in her palm and allows the blood to pool there before dipping the quill and signing her name with a flourish.

Kaythor notes the rather bloody display of Katrin and grins a bit. "Waste not, want not" he says before cutting a very small slit in his finger and signing along with the others.
He doesn't seem bothered by the act, and then he looks to everyone else. "If we are to work together, I might make a suggestion. Now that you know I am bound to protect you all, it would be much easier if I joined your minds to my own. That way I can keep you in the fight much easier, and more importantly, give you a share of the strength I take from our adversaries." He folded his hands and waited to see what they would say, unsure of how people would respond. He didn't want to have to force his way into their minds, but he would if that was necessary.

El'la nods, lowering her psychic shield as she activates her psionic awareness, even as a physical force pushes outwards slightly. Kaythor should be able to sense her defenses dropping.

"What does that entail exactly Kaythor?"

He nods, in response to Katrin's question. "And at what price to us?"

"I guess I should have asked this before I signed, but what happens if we break the contract? I'm sure a horde of devils will come tear us to shreds, or that we'll shrivel painfully away into a puddle of goo, right?" Katrin asks cooly. "If there is that kind of mojo behind the Third Loyalty I'm most likely willing to let you 'join your mind to mine'. I still need to know what that means first though."

"It is a simple matter of just lowering your mental resistance and 'letting him in'. Once you've done that, he should be able to link easily."

Kaythor nods to El'la, "Yes, that is about it. You will become part of my collective, part of my team. Which is really just a way for me to tend to your wounds more easily. Of course it would also allow me to do harm to you more easily as well, if it weren't for that contract." He said, pointing to the blood drenched paper. He smiled towards El'la, "I appreciate your trust, hopefully the others will see that it is nothing to fear" Kaythor then joined his mind to hers, placing her in his collective. She probably doesn't even notice a change at all, but Kaythor does. He then looked to the others, "If you are concerned about it, then just wait, but know that it will be much easier for me to help you if you trust me."

"Fair enough. Go ahead."

Henar nods in agreement. "Let this be the first step in taking down Mitra and his throned lackeys."