Dot here. And await further instruction.
Dippity Doppity Dot!
Doot
·•●•·
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Welcome to Hell
Though you all come from different backgrounds, different homelands, and different stations, you’re all bound by a simple commonality: you were all desperate enough to sell your soul to a devil. For some of you, it was the desperation to escape a terrible fate; for others it was born from ambition and a desire to rise above your current condition. But it turned out poorly, and one by one, you all died and as promised your souls were taken by the devil with whom you made a deal.
And since that day, all you’ve known is pain.
This torture went on for an unimaginably long time. And then, just before you all lost hope and your minds were lost to the torment… it stopped. You were freed. You were washed and given clean clothes to wear. Ointment and bandages were placed on your injuries. You were lead, bound and shackled, across the fields of the 8th circle, into the doors of an enormous castle, down the halls decorated with tapestries and statues depicting slaves in torment, and finally, though a pair of gold inlaid double doors.
The room was neither small nor spacious. It was an office, with shelves of books and scrolls, and various bottles of inks and quills lining the wall. There’s an enormous painting of Asmodeus hanging on the far wall, behind the desk covered in a literal pile of scrolls is a grate and a chute, making rather ominous moans every couple of minutes. There’s a soft sofa, large enough for all six of you, and it’s here that your binds are removed. One of your devil captors mutters a “Don’t try anything stupid.” under his breath before he and his team walks out. And facing across from you, he sits.
You all recognize him on sight. His pointed chin and sharp angular cheeks. His eyes are an inhuman yellow, his skin is crimson red, and his hair is charcoal black, styled in a businessman’s slickback. His body is covered in horns, and his outfit is one of opulence, the common clothes of an earthly nobleman. This is Mendax, the contract devil who holds your souls in his contracts.
He smiles at you. His expression is warm but entirely false; it’s the kind of look you’d give an annoying family member at a reunion or that a manager would give you right before firing you. You see it in his eyes, the contempt. Yet, that smile remains. Finally, he speaks, his voice a rich, smooth sound.
”Good, you’ve all arrived.” he says slowly. ”I do hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.”
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Portia Porphyria-Jeggare awakes submerged in wine. Not even a sharp, dry Red, fortified strong and still bitter on the back of her tongue, cleaning the palate dry -- no, it's a fruity white wine that sticks to the bridge of one's mouth like a syrupy sweet and lingers like a slippery Ooze, tainting any flavor of lamb or truffle or Chelaxian olive pie. The grape stains her gown. She gasps, fruity wine inundating her lungs. Spitting out the viscous green liquid she holds her breath and swims up, her gown weighing down her slender frame. Running out of briefest breath she opens her squeezed-shut eye to seek a surface above her where the wine will break to air. Grape stings her eyes. It's just above; one more kick up. Portia Porphyria-Jeggare breaks the surface to bump her head on a transparent lid. The impact sends her a few feet below the depths. 'A horizontal Wall of Force?! Where am I; how deep is this cheap wine bath? HOW DID I GET HERE? What's happening?' She swims back up, finds the surface again and gasps; wine trickles down the wrong pipe and she coughs it out violently. She has, what, maybe a finger span of air between the surface of wine and the ceiling?! Light goes out. She can not see any longer. Her favorite gown, now ruined, weighs her down as she struggles for air. Holding her breath she sinks below to remove the luxurious garment, wrestling with it under the roiling wine. She tries to swim back up for another gasp of air. Her gown is tangled around her shoulders. 'If I can calm myself the wine will become smooth; I can float and hold my mouth up to the surface long enough to cast Waterbreathing.' She reaches the surface again for a moment of air. Her diminutive body is weakening. 'Oh no, I haven't prepared a Waterbreathing spell.' Panic grips her again as she sinks below the narrow margin of air. Her gown is heavy.
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Portia Porphyria-Jeggare awakes submerged in wine. Not even a sharp, dry Red, fortified strong and still bitter on the back of her tongue, cleaning the palate dry -- no, it's a fruity white wine that sticks to the bridge of one's mouth like a syrupy sweet and lingers like a slippery Ooze, tainting any flavor of lamb or truffle or Chelaxian olive pie. The grape stains her gown. She gasps, fruity wine inundating her lungs. 'Wait! What's happening?! Why does this seem familiar? Where am I?'
Should have ripped of some f~+$ing demons wings and made them my own. Rorek thinks as he is buffeted around in the tornado.
That is probably not too bad overall.He thinks, as he see Cania for a short time and catches a glimpse of what is done to some others.
Suddenly, he is doused in acid.
Should not have f&&!ing thought that f!#! meis his reaction.
Good Day Sir Mendax, I trust though have been well since we parted? Rorek says.
To what do I owe the unexpected distinction of your continued interest? Rorek continues, while throwing a sideways glance at the others.
Rorek is a tall, strong looking man with surprisingly fabulous long blond hair, his eyes constantly shifting around, searching for advantadge or opportunity.
** spoiler omitted **
Good Day Sir Mendax, I trust though have been well since we parted? Rorek says.
To what do I owe the unexpected distinction of your continued interest? Rorek continues, while throwing a sideways glance at the others.
Rorek is a tall, strong looking man with surprisingly fabulous long blond hair, his eyes constantly shifting around, searching for advantadge or opportunity.
Mendax laughs, a dry and even sound. It's obviously fake but still believable at the same time. "Oh Rorek, you flatter me! I guess that means you enjoyed your aerial joy ride? Must've been quite a.. show." He ends with an odd hand gesture.
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"Oh, I'll get back and we'll figure a way out of the contract." Dumbass.
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"I guess those paladins and their hopeless last stands weren't quite so dumb."
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"Oh, Dawnflower, please forgive my weakness and stupidity. If it's possible for me to make up for my mistake, I will do anything."
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"Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"
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"Oh, I'll get back and we'll figure a way out of the contract." Dumbass.
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"I guess those paladins and their hopeless last stands weren't quite so dumb."
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"Oh, Dawnflower, please forgive my weakness and stupidity. If it's possible for me to make up for my mistake, I will do anything."
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etc.
Miriani sits at the end of the couch, "Oh, my suite is amazing and give my compliments to the chef. The only issue is that they don't stock Tumston's Greenbriar Whiskey at the bar. The Glen Oaks is fine enough, but it doesn't have quite the complexity. They say it has to do with the casks that they age it in."
Even if she was punished for the remark, at least it would likely be a different punishment.
** spoiler omitted **
Miriani sits at the end of the couch, "Oh, my suite is amazing and give my compliments to the chef. The only issue is that they don't stock Tumston's Greenbriar Whiskey at the bar. The Glen Oaks is fine enough, but it doesn't have quite the complexity. They say it has to do with the casks that they age it in."
Even if she was punished for the remark, at least it would likely be a different punishment.
"I'll make sure to bring that up to the fellows on level six; they're the ones who gave me the idea." Mendax says evenly. If Miriani's remarks bothered him, it wasn't showing. "Although, I find it rather strange you'd want whiskey. From what I've heard, pale lagers are the drink of choice of those who like a good sun tan." He adds as a smug smile forms on his face.
My what? Thinks Rorek?
Oh my Sir Mendax what a naughty boy you are, this mortal was, as a matter of fact utterly unaware of our connection. Dear Rorek, do you really think that something as trivial as death would undo the effects of my gentle caress? Speaks, nearly sings, an incredibly sexy voice in his mind, dripping with both sex and sarcasm.
I certainly enjoyed the show Good Sir Mendax, let it be known that further efforts by your agents to ply their trade in Alyushinnyrra will enjoy my patronage, no matter what that vagely-feminine-Ex-Elysian-fart-cloud with delusions of grandeur thinks, Shamira-Cuka should go back to her place in the kitchen, where she can grill with nearly adequate quality! The voice continues, more at Mendax then at Rorek,
I am profane pacted? None of my abilities ever increased?!? Rorek thinks.
Did it occur to you dear Rorek, that you are not very good at negotiating? One of the few things that Good Sir Mendex over there actually would agree with me I believe?
Rorek looks a lot less smug and focused then a second before.
** spoiler omitted **
Rorek looks a lot less smug and focused then a second before.
To any one else, it would seem as though Mendax had just gone briefly silent, his facial expression completely empty, like he's spaced off.
Trying to mask her uncertainty Portia Porphyria-Jeggare sits on the plush furniture, trying to hide her inspection of her dress for wine stains. She shudders involuntarily, and makes an effort to play it off as though it were temperature. She keeps her mouth slightly open, quietly sucking in oxygen, still disturbed from the panic of drowning.
She looks around her, to the lady sitting next to her. Portia Porphyria-Jeggare hides a nervous smile. 'Better to look an listen.'
Briggi howled as a fellow damned that looks like they had been rolled upon a spit above a campfire bit into his shoulder, causing him to twist around and drive his thumbs into the blackened eyes and wrench them away. Ever since he was hung, he was fighting in a boiling lake with the screaming hordes of damned. While he had hoped that there would be only darkness after his neck snapped he found himself falling and falling until he splashed down in Hell and besieged. We he'll show all of them! He'll cram his hate down their throats and rip off their heads before using them as puppets to mock them!
And then..he was suddenly out of the lake and gasping on the floor. To look at him, one would see an absolute mess. Briggi's face has marred by scar tissue and his hair and beard were in patches where it was unable to grow any more. His body likewise was scarred from burns and combat.
He gaped like a fish for a few moments before getting dragged off for a washdown and was covered in bandages and sticky ointment. Getting marched by devils into the office, he inwardly sneered at all of the pretty people whining about their treatment and skulked by the couch.
Trying to mask her uncertainty Portia Porphyria-Jeggare sits on the plush furniture, trying to hide her inspection of her dress for wine stains. She shudders involuntarily, and makes an effort to play it off as though it were temperature. She keeps her mouth slightly open, quietly sucking in oxygen, still disturbed from the panic of drowning.
She looks around her, to the lady sitting next to her. Portia Porphyria-Jeggare hides a nervous smile. 'Better to look an listen.'
** spoiler omitted **
Portia struggles for a moment to recall: she lacks the direct influx of knowledge from her headband, so she instead relies on her Infernal studies while alive. The memories are fuzzy and indistinct, but with a moment of concentration it comes to her:
I am willing to pledge that I will not steal your "clients" for as long as Mr. Rorek stays alive and their antics are entertaining, which they typically are because Rorek is going to Rorek. You see, your mutually beneficial association with Queen Doloras is relatively well known, and I would just hate to be disinvited from her fashion week. Do you have any idea how many captured Azatas I had to send to her for the invitation? Vellexias beutifull voice coaxes Mendax
May I perhaps offer you access to the Rorek themed "Abysstube" account? It is surprisingly popular, and the telepathic 4 hour video of his death had above 6 million viewers! He was truely the least lucky mortal in Alyushinnara, perhaps you may find some aspects inspiriational? My cousin certainly had a pretty good idea, many mortals would find "death by Succubus" appealing, but she just dropped a tree on him! On the matter of my gift to him well, I had a bet running with Lady Nocticula to politely convince a mortal to accept my gift, with no benefit to him whatsorever, and without magical compulsion or charming, and good Sir Rorek of course accepted, thinking that this would increase his station. Hilarious, mortal stupidity never ceases to amaze! Her voice has an erotic pull, that could perhaps even make a seasoned devil just listen to it forever!
** spoiler omitted **
Still not completely recovered from her ordeal of perpetual drowning and punishment, Portia Porphyria-Jeggare quietly collects her thoughts as she sits on the couch, hoping this isn't a dream from which she will awaken, drowning in cheap wine.
'This is Malebolge, wherein Souls are punished. Most of the Devils here revere Mephistopheles but, no, this castle belongs to a servant of Asmodeus.'
'I remember when I first met Mendax in Westcrown and we made the Pact, afterwards I researched this place, including this castle here in Malebolge. Why is it a struggle for me to remember? But. ...Yes, I'm certain I remember something about who Mendax's direct superior is -- Or, hmm, I don't know, maybe not a superior, maybe it was something about a different or original ruler of this castle -- or an enemy of the castle, some peer of Mendax here in Malebolge who coveted this stronghold?'
Puh. Finally this literal hell is over. How dare they do that that to ME Garidan wonders while being escorted away from his torture.
"The Lord of Darkness himself shall answer to me! This was unjustified and probably illegal. There was no reason for this kind of torture. Bring me to him, I demand!" Garidan argues with the devils escorting him.
In Mendax' office, Garidan did not sit down. He snatched a piece of pergament and a quill and quickly took several lines of notes. Anyone reading Infernal and trying to look at the writing would fine lots of legal speak, but more in a sort of mind map than coherent text. This is a nice quill, I must admit.
Sir Mendax, are you in a position equal to the one when we first met? I would like to bring up several complaints about my, he looks around noticing the others for the first time, and those of my peers' accommodationsand treatments. These conditions have never been agreed upon and I'm willing to bring this up against you and your organization.
The tall, lean middle-aged man begins to put on a fake smile and greets everyone in the room with a polite nod. He pulls up the sleeves of his garments and two very fine tattoos are revealed on each of his forearms. One showing a scale that seems to be weighing something and not deciding on which side is heavier. A knowledgeable person could identify this as Varisian art. The other one, shockingly, depicts the Red Pentagram of Asmodeus himself. "Greetings everyone. Garidan Hemlock, lawyer by profession, and willing to bring your cases to court. I'll quickly draw up some contracts for you...
Of course you can spy on him, both you and I know how quickly mortals sign their privacy away, in that one interesting plane, they do so as soon as they allow "cookies". Oh, given how I restructured good Roreks mind, access to his account. She demonstates some interesting if pretty chaotic mental mechanism, essentially, Roreks "account" has become so much more famous and succesfull then him, that by altering his account Roreks actual memory can be modified to conform with the account.
It does have some application concernign operational security? You see, there are 2 schools of secrecy, one is to hide the truth by stealth, one is to hide the truth under an avalanche of lies. I do prefer the second one, personally, and the only mortal lier worth a damn is the one who doesnt know he is lying.
Puh. Finally this literal hell is over. How dare they do that that to ME Garidan wonders while being escorted away from his torture.
"The Lord of Darkness himself shall answer to me! This was unjustified and probably illegal. There was no reason for this kind of torture. Bring me to him, I demand!" Garidan argues with the devils escorting him.
In Mendax' office, Garidan did not sit down. He snatched a piece of pergament and a quill and quickly took several lines of notes. Anyone reading Infernal and trying to look at the writing would fine lots of legal speak, but more in a sort of mind map than coherent text. This is a nice quill, I must admit.
Sir Mendax, are you in a position equal to the one when we first met? I would like to bring up several complaints about my, he looks around noticing the others for the first time, and those of my peers' accommodationsand treatments. These conditions have never been agreed upon and I'm willing to bring this up against you and your organization.
The tall, lean middle-aged man begins to put on a fake smile and greets everyone in the room with a polite nod. He pulls up the sleeves of his garments and two very fine tattoos are revealed on each of his forearms. One showing a scale that seems to be weighing something and not deciding on which side is heavier. A knowledgeable person could identify this as Varisian art. The other one, shockingly, depicts the Red Pentagram of Asmodeus himself. "Greetings everyone. Garidan Hemlock, lawyer by profession, and willing to bring your cases to court. I'll quickly draw up some contracts for you...
The devils that escorted Garidan made no response to his threats and demands, only mumbling a curt "Continue walking." if he tried to get physical.
Mendax himself just smiled, looking ever so pleased with himself at Garidan's fury. "You know, it's funny: I was expecting threats from Briggi and possibly Miriani at the conditions of their stay, but from you?" He has a hurt look on his face, one which instantly shifts to a mocking sneer. "I never expected you to come apart like this." He flicks his wrist and in an instant a contract drapes down his arm and onto the floor. A copy of Garidan's promise of ownership of his soul. "Now if you'll look here: Section 21, Subsection 59, Clause 4: 'In signing this contract, I understand that I hereby promise my eternal soul and afterlife to (1) Mendax, that my soul will be his to command and control, in accordance with Asmodean Edict and Law." He finishes and rolls the scroll back up with same motion as before. His smile is now inhumanly wide and his eyes practically closed with glee before he responds again. "What did you think was waiting for you down here: a party with his Lordship? Why don't you ask one of the lemures wandering around the castle how things truly work down here." He pauses, then stares at Garidan's hands. In a lighting fast motion, he disarms him of the quill and parchment, disposing of the parchment in the grate behind his desk and returning the quill to it's ink well. "And don't touch my things. They're worth far too much for you to work off."
Briggi sneers inwardly. Oh just you wait devil, Not going to waste my breath on threats when I don't have my tools. But I'll think of a way to get you, tie you to a chair with holy chains and see how much you'll laugh when I rip apart your skull with a claw hammer.
It's so cold. Teeth chattering. It's a fever. I can't move even a finger. Please. Please. My whole body itches so much. And these snot, oh Heavenly Lords, snot is pouring down my throat. I'm trying to cough them out, coughing nonstop. But sooner or later I'll suffocate. Please... At least the opportunity to blow my nose. Please! It's so cold...
________
An obese man with dark hair and a short beard is sitting next to you and sniffling. From time to time he clears his throat or itches painfully. He looks around, as if he doesn't understand who these people are around and what's going on, and then suddenly he just plops down on his knees in front of Mendax and begins to wail.
I'm begging you. Please! Anything but back. I can be useful! I became a sorcerer. I'm begging you. I'm ready for anything. Torment others! Or wash your chamber pots or... or... yes, anything! I beg you! Please, please!
And so on and so on until Mendax shuts him up (and it won't be easy even for him).
It's so cold. Teeth chattering. It's a fever. I can't move even a finger. Please. Please. My whole body itches so much. And these snot, oh Heavenly Lords, snot is pouring down my throat. I'm trying to cough them out, coughing nonstop. But sooner or later I'll suffocate. Please... At least the opportunity to blow my nose. Please! It's so cold...
________
An obese man with dark hair and a short beard is sitting next to you and sniffling. From time to time he clears his throat or itches painfully. He looks around, as if he doesn't understand who these people are around and what's going on, and then suddenly he just plops down on his knees in front of Mendax and begins to wail.
I'm begging you. Please! Anything but back. I can be useful! I became a sorcerer. I'm begging you. I'm ready for anything. Torment others! Or wash your chamber pots or... or... yes, anything! I beg you! Please, please!
And so on and so on until Mendax shuts him up (and it won't be easy even for him).
Mendax visibly recoils at this display; not out of pity or fear, but instead disgust. "Yes yes, Tariq. We get the message, now sit BACK DOWN!" The last words are a loud shout, followed by a close mouth glare that could wither a sunflower. You get the feeling you shouldn't test him on this.
He pauses and waits for you to finish, then briefly produces a small cloth and wipes off his shoes and robes with it. "And learn to say it, not spray it." Then his body language relaxes a tad. "I do appreciate it, of course. You're the only one here who didn't either snark at me or, heh, freeze up. Or choke." That last one is clearly directed at Portia. "Nor did you sit here simmering". he finishes with the barrage of puns, his eyes briefly falling on Briggi. "Keep up with the proper reverence of me and I might be convinced to reward you!" He rubs his index finger and thumb together in front of his face. "As long as it suits me, of course."
Mendax looks around the room. His eyes are filled with an unknown emotion, but he's clearly not happy. He leans back a bit in his chair and looks at all of you, again wearing that fake pleading smile. "Now that we've gotten introductions out of the way, allow me to address the elephant in the room: why are you all here? Why did I free you from your torment? And why, pray tell, have I brought you all before me?" He looks around the room for a moment to gauge your reactions before continuing. "Well I'll tell you why. We both have something the other needs. You all want to escape this, and I need your help." He expression becomes a simmering glower. "And whether you want to or not, you're going to give it to me."
I am ready to be your most useful servant. Tariq whispers this much more calmly and sits back down on the sofa.
...that Tariq is not so simple. He, too, wanted to outwit the devil and was as close to it as possible, following the path of the servant of Urgathoa. You can't lose your soul to the devil if you don't have a soul anymore and you're now a sentient undead. But he didn't have time... perhaps such an early death occurred precisely because of this attempt to deceive the contract devil? Who knows. In any case, the fact that Tariq is broken now does not mean that he will not return to his plan later, if possible.
I assume it is violence related good Sir?
Rorek perks up at the thought of doing rather then receiving violence for a change.
The contract would presumably feature an exchange of kills, perhaps with some asset retrieval on top, probably of a certain quality, in return for our ressurection and Sir Mendax yielding his claim on our souls, with the resurrection almost neccessarily being in advance, as I doubt we can kill or retrieve things that merit such an arrangement as petitioners.
He speaks, quite eager to show that he is reasonable, not stupid, and agreeable.
If Rorek could freely kill any entity in the multiverse, Mendax would not be in the top 10. He regards Mendax as a professional who is frankly just doing his job. He did sign the contract to spite the Abyss, less to gain personal benefits and pretty much knew what would happen, although he didnt expect to die as quickly as he did after signing.
He may think that this is a reason why Mendax picked him.
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Miriani listens to what Rorek has to say. The idea of being free of this is tempting, but she's learned not to be too eager to sign a new contract. Still, there's a spark of hope. "I'd like to hear more."
After a moment, she adds, "Sir."
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Briggi looks in utter disgust at the blubbering blob and casts around for anything he could grab and jam into his throat. Be as certain as my arse is blistered that he is going to stab us in the back. Better get him first.
When the devil yells for the fat fool to sit down, Briggi has some grudging admiration for him bringing the fool to heel. I assume you want something stolen or someone killed I take it?
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Impressed by the others' witty responses Garidan joins the general consent. "Well, well. I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. It must be reviewed in detail, of course." He looks around at everyone. "I am certain, none of us wants to end up down here again."
For a few moments he seems lost in thought, mumbling to himself and apparently to his breast. "Well. Camina agrees with me, that such an offer from your side would certainly help your case..." the last part he said in a silent tone, barely hearable.
Looking at Garidan, Tariq and Portia.Hmm, 2-3 Wizardry types, one of them an arrogant prick, the other a cringeworthy slob, the last one female who probably didnt get the job of "evil grand vizier" because she lacked a goatee.
Looking at Briggi: one guy who looks like is is going to rip off the slobs left arm and beat him to death with it, relatable enough.
and then at Miriani Mrs. as I know my luck, "Totally not a Succubus" because she seems to be kind of on my wavelength and seems relatively normal. Yay me! I discovered the cunning evil plot! Take that Vellexia! Rorek thinks.
Perhaps you only discovered one of them dear Rorek? Rorek hears Vellexias voice.
Shit, is it worse? Is she a Lilitu? But wait, if she was a Lilitu she would she be in a petitioners shape? Unless....
ITS ALL A CONSPIRACY!
Outwardly, little is visible of Roreks internal monologue.
Although Mendax, who is probably reading his mind, may grin or chuckle.
”Of course, you probably want details.” Mendax assured. ”So I’ll start from the beginning.” He took something off his desk. It looked a bit like a lantern or shadow puppet projector, but the feet and shutter were positioned so that it faced the ceiling, and it was decorated with silver and blue aquamarine crystals. He placed it on the floor in front of you, then shouted something (Password: Ultimatum) in Infernal. The device buzzed to life, glowing with heat and light, until suddenly an image projected out of the top, hovering in the air like a mirage: a red trident piercing a golden ring, the unholy symbol of Mephistopheles. He chuckles at your expressions. ”A Lux Tabula. His lordship Mephistopheles created the device as a way of delivering messages and battle plans to his followers, and from there the invention spread like wildfire across the Nine Hells. This one in particular was given to me by Algus Humero, a Gelugon (Infernal: Ice Devil) general in the ninth ring.” Mendax then says another word, and as he says it his inflection changes, like he’s saying it in a different language. ”Fylakas.” he snarls.
The box projects a new image: A horrible purple demon. His body is covered in ragged pointy horns and his skin is a deep chromatic purple. His muscles ripple with strength and on his face is a cruel and eager smile.
Mendax glares at the image. ”This,” he practically spits out. ”is Fylakas. My personal rival. A strange thing I know, for a devil’s true rival to be Abyssal filth. We’ve engaged in a back and forth war for the last 500 years, and despite time and again showing up the purple pr*ck, I’ve never successfully ended him.” He says another curt phrase in Infernal (Next!) and the image changes, now to a slideshow of images from a hectic battle between devils and demons. ”Our last bout was a rather poor showing of my forces.” He stands up and begins to pace, his hands clasped behind his back.
”We fought for 16 days and nights. My soldiers battled his, our batteries of artillery pounded the dirt and air, and our assassins worked tirelessly to obtain intelligence and gain the upper hand. And in the last stretches of the battle, we engaged in one on one combat. He had a trick, some kind of bizarre weapon that flung me back here. And since that moment, you could say I’ve been in something of a bind.” At this he shook his leg, and a translucent green chain rattled into visibility, though you can’t see the other end. ”I’m trapped here now. I can neither teleport, nor plane shift. I can’t even leave the castle!” he whined. ”My ability to perform my duties and social commitments has been cut down to nill! More pressingly, I’m now very much on the back foot if Fylakas decides to pay me a visit.”
His pacing has become more frantic, he’s unclasped his arms and his hands are clenched into fists. His face, now previously even, is contorted with fury. ”He can’t get past my defenses and traps, but if he knows I’m stuck here then all he’s got to do is wait me out. This wouldn’t be a problem if I had access to my regular forces, but not only did this last battle end in a rout thanks to my absence-” At this he finally put both his hands in the air and screamed.
Mendax stands in one place now, hunched over seething so much he can’t speak. He pauses and gives you all a “one moment” hand gesture. He then walks over to the grate behind his desk and flings it open. You may stand up and peer over his shoulder: if you do, you see a red skinned devil with a tangled prehensile beard.
He’s missing an eye, and his body is covered in deep cuts. He’s being boiled in a cauldron of melted gold, his skin constantly melting off only to regenerate a few moments later. ”Not loving that gold so much NOW are you?!” Mendax shouts down at him. ”PleAse, My lOrd! My lOyaLty Is oNly To yOu! PLeaSe fOrgIve My wEakNesS!” the damned captain cries back, his voice a gurgled moan. ”It’s far too early for that, Morsus! Wait a century or so and then maybe I’ll be in a ‘forgiving’ mood!”
Mendax then returns to his chair, beckoning you all back to the sofa. The teeth-gnashing fury on his face before has been replaced with a serene, happy expression. He looks back at you all, then frowns.”I’m sorry, I lost my train of thought, where was I?” A brief pause, then he snaps his fingers. ”Ah, that’s right! The dimensional anchor.” He looks down at the Lux Tabula and shouts a final command (End projection!) at it in Infernal. It ceases producing light and sound, and Mendax calmly bends over and returns it to his desk. Then, with his back still to you, he continues. ”I’ll be blunt. You all undoubtedly hate me. I certainly hate you. But right now we’re both each other’s last respite. I have no other agents; they're either scattered across the Abyss or plotting their betrayal, and if I ask for help from the executives, I’ll undoubtedly have half my souls confiscated as punishment. And I’ve no doubt you’re all quite tired of the endless torture.” Mendax’s tone is flat and emotionless. After a pause, he turns around, and once again he has that fake smile on his face. ”My deal is thus: help me to collect my forces, destroy Fylakas’s physical form and free myself from this demonic imprisonment… and I’ll let you go. I’ll burn your contracts, bring you all back to life and return you to the material plane. You’ll all be free.” he sneers the last word and rolls his eyes.
”Or,” he begins again with a cruel smile. He kicks the grate behind his desk, and you hear Morsus scream in agony as if on cue. He looks back at you. ”You can return to anguish and despair, and I’ll hire some elemental mercenaries instead.” With a flick of the wrist he summons a new contract and holds it out with his right hand, then with his left produces (seemingly from nowhere) a quill and offers it to you all. At the base of the contract it reads, in big bold letters: “IN RETURN FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF MY SOUL CONTRACT AND MY IMMEDIATE RESURRECTION AND RETURN TO THE MATERIAL PLANE, I HEREBY SWEAR MY SERVICE TO (1) MENDAX, TO REASSEMBLE HIS ARMY AND AGENTS, TO PROPERLY AND EFFICIENTLY ARM AND SUPPLY THEM, AND TO DESTROY THE PHYSICAL FORM OF (1) FYLAKAS, THUS FREEING MENDAX FROM THIS DIMENSIONAL ANCHOR. SIGN HERE: ” ”So what’ll it be?”
Briggi grunted. Horned demon. Abyssal slavers.
When the contract devil starts having a temper tantrum, Briggi chortles under his breath at the sight of the devil humiliating himself and wishes he could somehow let other people know about this. Prime entertainment.
Roreks thoughts race as he processes the information.
Demonic adversary hmm? And got a Barbazu to betray hell? Granted, Barbazu cant be all that stronk if they get beaten up by would be hellknights as a trial of passage.
I guess Gozreh propitiation it will be.
Infernal contract in Common? Wow, thats f@#@ing rare, shows a good bit of desperation, very good for me!
Good Sir, I have several questions. First, what if Fylakas death does not undo your anchor? Secondly, what constitutes proper and efficient arming and equipping of your armies are we in agreement that any arming that results in Fylakas death has been proper and efficient
Third, what constitutes armies and agents? Our common adversary is a Kalavakus, who may have sold parts of your agents and armies to any possible Abyssal layer. Perhaps a similar agreement, in which any assembling of your armies and agents that results in the targets destruction is sufficient for meeting the contracts conditions?
He pauses, basing his legal assessment on "how will this contract f$!+ me".
Learning that they are going to fight demons, Miriani's fake confidence turns real.
Miriani looks at the contract and pauses. "I have one addition." She turns to Garidan, "You can put the legal terms in, but I want to to say in writing that once Fylakas gets whacked, we owe you no more services in any world. I'm more than happy to kill demons, but I want this over afterwards."
"I may not always be the smartest, but I do learn from my mistakes." she says.
Hmmm. How did you make him suffer so much in the fire? They are usually flame resistant. Tariq smiles and runs his hand through his long dark hair, after which he coughs a couple of times and continues. As I said, I will be glad to be of service. I need a day to clean up. Good clothes, delicious food, a sauna, lots of delicious food, a couple of women and a couple of men who can satisfy me properly... This can help me prepare spells and gather my thoughts. Such long tortures, you know... I need to catch my breath. And tomorrow I'm ready to go into battle with these thugs.
Despite these words, he is in no hurry to sign the contract first, looking at the others. What if someone notices some trick?
Looking at Tariq, Rorek thinks: Thug? Also, men and women? As if that was oh so special. Also, someone is probably going to get an Erinye and an Incubus for satisfaction, who will proceed to tie him up, gag him, do pretty unpleaseant things to him until he claims that he is satisfied, which he cant because he is gagged. And for a change, this someone will not be me! Yay!.
Looking at Miriani
She likes to kill Demons huh? All Demons like to kill Demons! I am ever masterfull in identifying the hidden Succubus!
Planes DC 15 automatic
Garidan just nods during Mendex' Story. Only a keen eye would notice that he doesn't have a clue what and whom the devil is speaking about.
The Cleric hungryly snatches the contract and studies it. "Well, as expected, the contract is solid, but it does lack details. From my recent experience with you, this is an issue. I mean, in general I'm all for your proposal, but we do need to think about any amendments we should add. Some the others already mentioned. "
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Portia Porphyria-Jeggare recognizes desperation, and the whole story sounds plausible, nonetheless, she studies the façade Mendax presents during his explanation and tirade, trying to discern any falsehood or bluff, trying to notice if he's excluding some important part of his tale.
When Mendax reveals his Bearbazu stooge and the little Beard cries out, she strains to see the look on its face -- a Bearded Devil's lies would be far easier to sense, if this is all for show!
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She looks to the Human Bloodrager as he asks about the 'Anchor keeping Mendax Bound to his castle. Introducing herself to the fellow Petitioner she reiterates his question. "A good point, pray tell, Mendax, what has your own knowledge of Spellcraft revealed about the Binding; I assume a simple Dispel Magic or even a greater Wish won't break the Enchantment?"
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The Sorcerer has a Korvosan accent!' "A good point. We will need our forms to do this task, Mendax." Portia introduces herself to Tariq Vestgeir next, "I recently moved to Korvosa in order to marry Lord Mercival Jeggare's niece. Alas, I died before we could meet."
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Portia Porphyria-Jeggare pays attention to the Chelaxian Sergeant-of-Law as he begins drafting a more detailed version of the new Contract. 'He certainly knows what he's doing, and do a better job than I."
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"Mendax, let me ask you, what exactly did the Bearded Devil do? The more information you tell us the better equipped we will be to handle the problem. Did he spy or provide counter intelligence? Was he required to lead an attack at a certain tactical moment and not do so? Did he steral , I don't know, a locket of your hair, or something to give to Fylakas The Fool? It is possible that we can use this pitiful Barbazu to our gain. A double agent? Or,... you may be able to change one of us with some kind of magic to make us appear like the Bearded Devil and we could penetrate the Demon's demesne using that."
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Briggi can't believe the fat fool, first he blubbers and offers to backstab us, now he wants ale and whores? Reminds me of some blackguard who tried to turn on the troop I was running with. Sold us out thinking he could get a fat purse. Bastich got something all right. Ha!
Briggi starts thinking about things to ask. This horned demon, just what are his powers besides shackling people? Any vulnerabilities to certain material?
[dice=K.Planes for Mr. Purple]d20+11
[dice=K.Planes for mr. Gold]d20+11
Roreks thoughts race as he processes the information.
Demonic adversary hmm? And got a Barbazu to betray hell? Granted, Barbazu cant be all that stronk if they get beaten up by would be hellknights as a trial of passage.
I guess Gozreh propitiation it will be.Infernal contract in Common? Wow, thats f~~!ing rare, shows a good bit of desperation, very good for me!
Good Sir, I have several questions. First, what if Fylakas death does not undo your anchor?
”Oh, it will. Though I lack the power to break this spell, it was trivial for me to identify it and its functions. It’s directly tied to his life force. When he ‘dies’,” Mendax makes some air quotes before continuing. ”for lack of a better mortal term, that link will be broken and the spell will simply run out of energy. If I can think of a proper metaphor, it’s a bit like a fire: take away the air, and it extinguishes itself.”
Secondly, what constitutes proper and efficient arming and equipping of your armies are we in agreement that any arming that results in Fylakas death has been proper and efficient
”Hit the nail on the head, Rorek!” he says with a small smile. ”Really, the army is as much for your benefit as it is mine: you try and take on Fylakas on your own, and it’d be a genuine miracle if you survived, never mind succeeded.”
Third, what constitutes armies and agents? Our common adversary is a Kalavakus, who may have sold parts of your agents and armies to any possible Abyssal layer. Perhaps a similar agreement, in which any assembling of your armies and agents that results in the targets destruction is sufficient for meeting the contracts conditions?[/b]
He pauses, basing his legal assessment on "how will this contract f&#& me".
”You’ll just have to wait on that one. I have a plan, but I’m hardly going to just blurt it out without knowing whether or not you’ve chosen to join me.”
Learning that they are going to fight demons, Miriani's fake confidence turns real.
Miriani looks at the contract and pauses. "I have one addition." She turns to Garidan, "You can put the legal terms in, but I want to to say in writing that once Fylakas gets whacked, we owe you no more services in any world. I'm more than happy to kill demons, but I want this over afterwards."
"I may not always be the smartest, but I do learn from my mistakes." she says.
Mendax levels a glare at you. ”You know, you’re not exactly in the position to bargain with me, Miriani.” He keeps his glare on you for an uncomfortably long time, before rolling his eyes and relenting. ”But alright. I wasn’t planning on keeping you all around anyway: makes me look desperate. If you so desperately want it in writing…” he turns the contract to face him and scrawls something at an inhuman speed.Then he turns it back around and reads aloud his addition as you read it: ADDENDUM: AFTER THE COMPLETION OF THE MISSION, I UNDERSTAND THAT I WILL NO LONGER BE OBLIGATED TO SERVE MENDAX OR OBEY HIS COMMANDS, THOUGH I MAY CHOOSE TO IF I WISH. ”Better?” he adds in a sarcastically sweet voice.
Hmmm. How did you make him suffer so much in the fire? They are usually flame resistant.
”I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you guessing on that one.” he says with a seemingly honest smile.
Tariq smiles and runs his hand through his long dark hair, after which he coughs a couple of times and continues. As I said, I will be glad to be of service. I need a day to clean up. Good clothes, delicious food, a sauna, lots of delicious food, a couple of women and a couple of men who can satisfy me properly... This can help me prepare spells and gather my thoughts. Such long tortures, you know... I need to catch my breath. And tomorrow I'm ready to go into battle with these thugs.
Despite these words, he is in no hurry to sign the contract first, looking at the others. What if someone notices some trick?
Mendax cocks an eyebrow. ”The process of returning you to life should provide you with spells on the spot. And the damage to your petitioner form shouldn’t translate over, so I’m not sure what you mean by ‘catch your breath’.” He keeps up the seemingly ignorant attitude, though you start to wonder if he’s being facetious. ”But, if you're in such need of pleasure,” Mendax says in a way that confirms he’s being facetious. ”then I know of some kytons who would be thrilled to meet you!”
Garidan just nods during Mendex' Story. Only a keen eye would notice that he doesn't have a clue what and whom the devil is speaking about.
The Cleric hungryly snatches the contract and studies it. "Well, as expected, the contract is solid, but it does lack details. From my recent experience with you, this is an issue. I mean, in general I'm all for your proposal, but we do need to think about any amendments we should add. Some the others already mentioned. "
Mendax smiles placatingly. ”Garidan, are you really sure that’s what you want? You can read, clear as I can, the conditions of this contract: you free me, I’ll free you! I’ll admit, it’s a bit sparse on details about how you’re going to free me, but this is an evolving situation. We don’t need to muddle up such a simple agreement with subclauses and extra conditions. I would think a barrister of your caliber could understand such a thing.”
Portia Porphyria-Jeggare recognizes desperation, and the whole story sounds plausible, nonetheless, she studies the façade Mendax presents during his explanation and tirade, trying to discern any falsehood or bluff, trying to notice if he's excluding some important part of his tale.
Mendax is a total mystery to you. It seems as though he has no tells or misplaced words. You understand the situation only as he has presented it: he’s furious and desperate, but you’ve no doubt he means it when he says return you to your torture if you don’t take this deal.
When Mendax reveals his Bearbazu stooge and the little Beard cries out, she strains to see the look on its face -- a Bearded Devil's lies would be far easier to sense, if this is all for show!
Morsus, on the other hand, is an open book. With only a brief glance at him you can tell that his pain and suffering is genuine. He’s regretful, he’s ashamed, and wishes he could make up for his mistake to his master. You do get an odd feeling from his words though. “Forgive my weakness” he said. It feels like he was less referring to a mistake or a personal flaw and more of a literal weakness: a lack of power or ability.
She looks to the Human Bloodrager as he asks about the 'Anchor keeping Mendax Bound to his castle. Introducing herself to the fellow Petitioner she reiterates his question. "A good point, pray tell, Mendax, what has your own knowledge of Spellcraft revealed about the Binding; I assume a simple Dispel Magic or even a greater Wish won't break the Enchantment?"
Mendax just laughs. ”Ha! A Wish spell. Oh you’re so funny Portia!” He ends on a hiss. Then he raises his hand. The air around it ripples like around a molten billet and his eyes glow green. The chain shudders into sight, contorts and shakes, and finally explodes into a shower of green sparkles.
For about six seconds, nothing happens. And then, all of a sudden two things happen in quick succession. First, the chain reappears on Mendax’s leg, seemingly reassembling itself from the dust in the air. And second, Mendax is thrown across the room like the tip of a whip. He slams into one the bookshelves with an audible ”Oof!”, but remains on his feet. He chuckles sadly. ”As you can see, my own power is simply not enough to properly remove this binding.”
"Mendax, let me ask you, what exactly did the Bearded Devil do? The more information you tell us the better equipped we will be to handle the problem. Did he spy or provide counter intelligence? Was he required to lead an attack at a certain tactical moment and not do so? Did he steral , I don't know, a locket of your hair, or something to give to Fylakas The Fool? It is possible that we can use this pitiful Barbazu to our gain. A double agent? Or,... you may be able to change one of us with some kind of magic to make us...
”Morsus-” Morsus wails again, the sound being a muffled groan from the grate. ”more than anything else, is guilty of a lack of discipline. One would think that a captain would be smart enough not to fall for the very obvious trap a pile of gold in the middle of an Abyssal forest clearly is.” Mendax pauses to shoot a glare at Morsus’s cell. ”You would think. And you’d be wrong. Fylakas was waiting for him, dominated him, and used him as a mole. He turned on us right as the fight was beginning to go in our direction, leading his squad right into the middle of an ambush. As for using him somehow, or wearing his image,” he leaned forward as he said it. ”DON’T. Not only would Fylakas never fall for it, it would confirm to him that I’m stuck here. He may not know yet and I can’t afford to let him find out.”
Knowledge Check to Determine Location of Battle: The geography of the Abyss is ever changing, fitting for a plane with its own diabolical sentience. You do recognize the borders of two other planes though: the first, unsurprisingly, is the Malbolge itself. You’re pretty sure you passed by this border on the way you were led here, about halfway between where you were held and Mendax’s castle. The second border is more troubling though; Abbaddon, the plane of killers, the omnicidal Daemons, and The Four Horsemen themselves. Where in Abaddon is difficult to tell through the fuzzy dimensional borders, but you’d guess it was the territory of War. Appropriate irony.