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?
Mendax thinks to himself for a moment. Fylkas was obviously not without weaknesses, but he struggled for a moment to think of ones that mere mortals like you all could exploit.
”Hmm, well ‘blessed weapons’ would be my immediate answer, but those aren’t exactly easy to come by in the Abyss.” He muttered. ”If I had to name anything he’s weak to, I’d have to say… ranged weapons. He’s quite proud of his melee prowess and he’ll resist your spells quite readily, but he’s slow and lumbering and doesn’t have many ways to fight at range. If you could snipe at him in such a way that he couldn’t see you, he wouldn’t be able to do much. He can walk on air and move certain things with his mind, but I’m certain those powers won’t cause you much hassle. The big problem is teleportation. If he can see you, you’re f***ed.” He ended with rather bluntly. ”So try to avoid that.”
Portia Porphyria-Jeggare is satisfied: She signs.
"Oh, I am satisfied." she says with a smile. She will sign and look to the others.
Briggi shrugs and signs.
While taking the quill in his hand Garidan purposely staggers and halts. "At least let's agree on an oral amendment: If anything questionable that we didn't know now will arise, we will send for each other and be open to discuss the addition of corresponding clauses to our contract. As you said, it's an evolving thing. ." He offers his free hand to Mendax for a handshake. The devil knows, in Garidan's eyes this would be binding.
While taking the quill in his hand Garidan purposely staggers and halts. "At least let's agree on an oral amendment: If anything questionable that we didn't know now will arise, we will send for each other and be open to discuss the addition of corresponding clauses to our contract. As you said, it's an evolving thing. ." He offers his free hand to Mendax for a handshake. The devil knows, in Garidan's eyes this would be binding.
[dice =Diplomacy] 1d20 +25
Mendax glares at you, but his smile remains unchanged. "Indeed." he says flatly. "I suppose that's a fair addition: if either of us has any trouble fulfilling our end of the bargain, we can meet to discuss it." he takes your hand in a handshake, nonverbally agreeing with your pact. "I take it then, that you'll sign?"
Garidan doesn't even try to hide his disgust in touching the devil's hand. He does try to look brave for doing so, however. Then he signs.
What could possibly go wrong? Right? Rorek signs not surpressing a chuckle.
Perhaps I will at some point ascend as a meme.
Ranged? Hmm, not really my skill set. I can hit things from 20 feet distance, which is 10 more then that Fyl-whatever should have. If I keep him moving and striking, rather then being in my face and hitting me full bore, I maybe able to drag it out a fair bit while inflicting damage.
I would half suggest to load up some throwing axes, of the cold iron variety, but they dont have much more range then your "Overcompensator" does.
My thanks, Lady Vellexia for informing me of my equipment shortcomings.
Lets hope they dont shorten your adventure too much.
Eh, that pun devil getting to you
Silence, mortal.
Let's clean up well about men and women. But what about delicious food? The Pale Princess won't forgive me if I don't eat well before this mission. In general, I agree of course. He signs.
Mendax's smile grows wider with each signature. When Tariq signs, he chuckles then laughs. his voice booms and echos. In an instant, you're surrounded by the deep red flames of hellfire. Rather then injuring you, though, they revitalize you, reinvigorating your strength and energy. Then in a bright flash, you stand renewed. You've no more injuries, your clothes (previously ragged and decayed) are clean and colorful. You feel twice as strong as you ever were when you lived.
You notice a mild stinging sensation of your left hand. Looking at it, you see a glowing red symbol, so faint and translucent as to be almost invisible: it depicts a contract being burnt. "I see you've noticed my mark," Mendax says in a deeply satisfied matter. "a special brand intended to help you keep on the right track."
Mendax holds up three fingers. "The mark has three potent effects. First, it extends the range of my telepathy in regards to you six from a paltry 100 feet to effectively infinite. Like this." He finishes the sentence, the words appearing not as sounds but as faint buzz in the back of your minds.
"Second, should you fail me (most likely by dying, but it's possible you're simply that incompetent), the mark will instantly return you here for... reevaluation." As he says this, he absentmindedly doodles something on a sheet of paper held on one of his horns, then finishes and shows you all his work. The image depicts you all with various fleshgrafts, prosthetics, and devilish implants. You all wear an expression of sadness and pain. The image is simple, but it gets the message across.
"Third," he begins, and less then a second later, you're wracked with indescribable pain. The sensation can't be compared to any kind of traditional injury: it's as though every neuron is firing the signal for pain at once. As it happens, an image flashed in your mind: Mendax's face, with an impossibly wide smile and bulging, strained eyes. Just as soon as the pain arrives, it's over and you regain your senses. "The mark allows me to discipline you if disobey my commands or get any funny ideas about leaving." he sounds gleeful, as if he's struggling not to laugh.
"Now normally my minions are expected to reign in their conduct and follow the standard ruleset-" as he says this, he pushes a bookshelf, revealing it to have a false back. Behind it is a scroll with a diameter roughly akin to a large tree and taller then all of you. "but given the time sensitive nature of this mission, I'll simplify it for you and just shackle you with three. Rule #1: Obey all of my commands. You can ignore my advice and do things the wrong way, but if I command you to do something you'd better do it or there'll be hell to pay." He gives you all a goofy smile and looks at all of your faces, then frowns. "Oh come on, that was a good one! Anyway, Rule #2: No teamkilling! I get that you all probably can't stand each other and my other minions, but I can't let you waste my resources, especially now. Feel free to insult each other all you want though: I personally find that rather hilarious. Rule #3: Don't tell anyone who you're working for or why, unless they're one of my minions. Like I said, I can't afford to let anyone find out about my situation. All good?" he finishes. He begins anew without waiting for an answer. "Good! Now that that's all been established, I'm going to go fetch you some gear, so feel free to mingle and talk or whatever other debased things you feel like." And with that, he leaves the room with a speed walk.
Portia Porphyria-Jeggare laughs at Mendax's 'hell to pay' joke. -- but it's rather obvious that it's an insincere, insulting laugh, not at all disguised as a 'laughing with you' moment but rather a 'laughing at you' moment. Almost immediately she stops, remembering not just the power Mendax has over her, but also the fact that, despite his juvenile and low-brow thinking, he was still able to get the better of her. Twice.
"I hope he can find a scimitar somewhere. It's what I'm used to fighting with." She muses, watching where he left. "Then again, I did tag him a decent stroke before he killed me, so perhaps he remembers. I am Miriani, and I've studied demon killing from many different cultures. Mostly up close. I'm still a decent fighter against other targets, but demons are my specialty."
Briggi pats himself down, feeling a bit less awful than he did before. He still looks like he had his beard and hair mauled by shears, and had the scars of a professional porcupine wrestler, but he was alive.
Of course, he wasn't about to waste any time and whispered to the others. [smaller]We don't have much time here. That devil has us over a barrel, so if we can find out something that gives us an edge, all the better. Maybe the devil under the grate knows something about his boss.
Name is Rorek, Mendax is practical and probably has my inventory when I died in Alyushinnnara, I survived there for years, far longer then most mortals would have, after being abducted and made an Arena Slave.
Was fighting for Sarkoris before that, I can fight pretty well, and throw myself into a bloodrage. I got fairly resistant to magic on account of all the exposure I got.
And the banquet! - raising his finger, Tariq says before Mendax left. In the 'updated' form, he is still overweight, but no longer sniffles. He looks polished and a little pampered.
Tariq Vestgeir at your service. I am a sorcerer who, by the grace of Urgathoa and a contract with Mendax, absorbed the power of the monstrous magical plague that raged in Korvosa. You can count on my witchcraft power.
Note to self, never eat any food that guy made, or sleep with anyone that one had slept with Rorek thinks to himself.
Rorek, are these signs of learning? From you? The impossible is happening! He hears Vellexia mocking him.
"Well, well. Glad to make get to know you all, I suppose. Garidan Hemlock, servant of the Dark Prince Asmodeus himself. Also I'm currently rethinking that life choice..." He shows his tattoo with the God's emblem again and smiles with a very serious face.
If you need any healing, while we're at this task, I can certainly provide most of it, but I do have certain conditions in return...
Oh Mighty Gozreh, let my axe be the storm of thy vengeance against the demons, let their impure blood be purged by thy wroth, and drown those of them who manage to flee...
Rorek silently propitiates Gozreh
Name is Briggi by the way. Been doing recon and sabotage in the military before I got my neck snapped. So I can handle hazards and scouting.
"I'm a scholar taking over The Darklight Sisterhood in Korvosa, originally a Lady from Cheliax: House Porphyria. Well, I was a scholar. And Wizard."
"Tariq Vestgeir, I think I arrived in Korvosa just after you died. I heard of Blooodveil and all the grotesqueness of the end of The Saffron King's reign. I think we must share stories on our trek through Hell for Mendax. There's only one thing I don't understand: You said by the grace of Urgathoa -- I mean no offense," Portia Porphyria-Jeggare says offensively, with just enough flavor of friendly passive-aggresiveness. "but Urgathoa does nothing gracefully. Certainly the goddess of rotting, stinking, mindless zombies can *spell* 'Grace,' but I rather doubt she can bestow it. Still, Sorcery is intriguing, exciting; I look forward to hunting Demons with you."
. . . .
Somewhat impressed with the Varisian barrister of Asmodeus, Portia Porphyria-Jeggare chooses her tone and words carefully, hoping to make a good impression. "Garidan Hemlock, I am certain your choice in Asmodeus is the best one. I don't know what torment you were suffering, as painful as my drowning in cheap, fruity wine unendingly I'm certain, but one must remember to think of the long run. You can still be a Pit Fiend one day! ....That is, unless you forsake the terrifying power and awe of The Dark Prince and Hell's ArchDevils now. Don't lose faith. In the end, *WE are the victors." She tries not to sound too like a victim.
As Miriani realizes that most of these people were willing servants of hell, she keeps quiet. No need to provoke them when there was a chance of redemption. Inwardly she thanks the Dawnflower for arranging an opportunity for forgiveness.
Porti. I would be happy to enter into a discussion on this topic, but I already understand from the initial statement that you do not have enough education to support the conversation. However, I am a generous person and on occasion I will initiate you into the mysteries of the Pale Princess. Perhaps this will expand your meager horizons. Tariq tries to hide his irritation and says all this in a very kind tone that does not match the meaning of the words.
Looking at Tariq, Rorek thinks
Oh my, what a unexpectedly rapid switch from sniveling slave to arrogrant prick. The pale princess? Well if that gives him a boner, there you go.
The Pale princess? Is also worshipped by Vampires, although there is plenty of contestion from the likes of Zurah, Kabriri, Orcus and a bunch of others. Vampires can be fairly graceful, although... He pauses
From experience, the ugliest Vampires serve Kabriri, the attractive seductive ones Zurah and the ones inbetween attractivity wise Urgothoa or Orcus. That is mostly based on the Vampire demographics of Alyushinnyrra though.
If we end up there Sir Tariq, there are a couple of establishment which would presumably cater to your specific desires. I have heard great things about the "Hexa-Suck" offered in one of them.
A mortal gets sucked by a variety of Abyssal denizens. It starts pleaseant, and gets progressivly worse. Many regional variations exist.
The final "suck" is typically from something that is absolutly disgusting, enslaved Qlippoths being a favorite.
Is he also mocking or not? Or is he serious? The devil will sort them out, thieves and crooks around, not a single honest person...
You're absolutely right. But you're talking about half-gods. It's cute, but they don't compare to a real great goddess. Perhaps there is no difference for a peasant or an ignoramus, but for powerful sorcerers and warriors the differences are quite significant.
Tariq looks around. Damn, will they feed us already or not? We deserve a good meal!
I would argue that half gods are more relatable, take a more active interest in the affairs of their followers, and offer better opportunities for promotion.
You see, a suprisingly common argument from devotees of the likes of Nocticula, Eiseth and Szuriel is that so calld "full devinity" imposes considerable restraints on their actual actions, and thus on their capabilities and power. Consider what happened when Desna had her bad-hair day and murdered Aolar, without the intervention of Callistria, presumably assisted by probably Nocticula and Zurah, there would have been a massively destructive war. Meanwhile, Nocticula can kill any Demon Lord she would like to kill and benefit considerably from that.
Ahh, the Coalition of Chaos, that was a funny time to give diplomatic receptions in Alyushinnary. Let it be stated that it cost the savored sting a fair bit to avail herselfs of Shadows diplomatic services. Speaks Vellexia in his head.
"You are right, of course, if one were to choose a patron of necromancy, Urgathoa is the best option. And Vampires are graceful. And some Ghosts. But perhaps it's just my own prejudices, but I don't see the appeal in dead, rotting flesh. How do Vampires do it?! I guess that's a secret all Necromancers are researching, then they give up and accept decaying Lichdom."
Garidan, the only one actually blessed by a major deity, clearly stays out of the religious discussion. When someone inside the discussion throws a half-asking look at him, he answers "don't look at me. I may pray to a deity every morning, but that doesn't make me a priest. For what it's worth, I find her disgusting. And necromancy is illegal in so many countries... "
To Portia:
Well, I had this surprsingly wholesome date with a Vampiress.
According to her, Vampireism, as its base conserves the current state of whoever becomes a Vampire, yet this state is not stable, even if compared with a normal mortal state, and requires continious consumption of resources for essentially basic maintenance, whereas many more conventional undead, with the exception of Ghouls, are well, actively dead and animated by magical forces.
To Garridan, he speaks.
You are directly Asmodean? I, if I learned anything, it is that the powers that be are more polite to those they want, then to those they have, as such, I am currently running with a more "boutique" approach. I am not one to gainsay the decisions of others though.
Good point, Rorik. But I think the example with Desna is not valid. She is prevented from doing so by her moral limitations, which cowards call conscience. We're not saying that anything will stop Norgorber from killing another god, are we? But I liked your idea that since demigods have fewer supporters, they have to pay more attention to them. It's curious.
He will ignore Garidan's comment. Perhaps Tariq just couldn't find anything to say, but pretended not to hear.
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Briggi glares at the jabbering group. Here he was trying to get them to make SOMETHING like a plan and there they go waving their schlongs at each other.
Hey! Briggi snaps. How about we try thinking of getting and edge here? Maybe the one in the pit can give a tidbit on our new boss.
Your conversations are interrupted by a polite knock. A pair of devil servants enter the room, pushing a cart on which are six backpacks, carrying a proper variety of gear. Each one has on it a note with one of your names. .
Following close behind them is Mendax, who raises his arms as he enters the room. ”I’m back! Hope you’re all properly acquainted now. As you can see, you’re all now perfectly equipped to take on anything that might come your way.” He waits a moment for you all to don your armor and prep your spells, whistling absentmindedly. When you’re finished, he smiles at you. ”All ready? Good, then follow me.”
He leads you out the doors of his office as his devil servants politely wave goodbye at you. You walk through the halls until you reach a large metal door, behind which is a long spiral staircase. You descend down the stairs, passing numerous doors of various designs until he finally stops at a door with a large foggy glass window on it but no handle. He speaks four words, each one in a different language, though none of you can understand them. Then the door slowly creaks open, revealing a sparse room roughly 30’ x 30’. At the far end is an archway made of white stone bricks.
Mendax strides to the other side of the room and places a hand upon the archway. Another small sentence, this time in Abyssal: ”Forest of Corpses.” he says plainly. The archway roars to life, the inside filled with an indistinct and foggy red mist. It almost gives the illusion of looking like coagulated blood. Then he steps to the side and gestures at the archway. He smiles again.
”A direct portal to the Abyss.” he explains. He gestures into it again. ”Well? After you.”
Portia Porphyria-Jeggare accepts being the first one through, only as long as it looks certain that combat-ready muscle is immediately behind or adjacent to her.
Miriani slides on her armor and gear, buckling everything up. then she'll step back to the corner and whip her scimitar around in a very fluid but precise set of patterns. With that she will sheathe the weapon and follow along.
When they get to the portal, she will draw her blade and step through alongside Portia.
Briggi gets his weapons and armor on, checking closely since he doesn't trust those devils. Satisfied that they are still functional, he strides through the portal.
Happy to see his trusted gavil, Garidan gives his other gear only a short inspection, as he sees the satisfaction in the others' eyes.
He demonstrately hits on the table with the gavil like a judge would do.
Then he retreats to a chair and begins to read semi-loudly from a book.
An hour later, he's ready and follows Portia.
Ahhh my ! Smiles Rorek as he handles his incredibly large axe as if it was his newborn baby.
As a matter of fact, with a lot more happyness then with his last newborn baby, as that happened to be a new born Alu Demon who promptly, while being a baby, tried to level drain him. Nor was he all that certain it was actually his.
He checks his equipment and gets into his armor.
He attaches the wand of infernal healding to a sheath on his right lower arm, points at it and says "infernal healing" to the rest of the party.
He walks through the portal.
Steal Sammich: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27
Okay, that's more than nothing. I can have a snack anyway. So, what do we have here? Later! Okay, let's eat first... Damn. Damn. Damn. WHERE'S MY SANDWICH! YOU BASTARDS, WHERE THE F%*& IS MY F!%+ING SANDWICH? I WILL BURN YOU WITH THE MOST TERRIBLE PLAGUE, YOU WILL SPIT BLOOD, BUT YOU WILL DIE OF BLOODY DIARRHEA! I SWEAR IT WILL HAPPEN IF YOU DON 'T GIVE ME THE SANDWICH BACK !!
Rorek looks at Briggi presumably disappearing the "evidence" in his stomach.
Enjoy He says Mr. Slave to prick split personality disorder probably searching his sandwich in there? He points at the portal assuming it is still around.
Anyone willing to take a bet on his mode of locomotion to go through the Portal? I think the major contenders are Erinyed and dropped arse first, on a conveniently place upwards pointing tree stump, simply booted through, or yeeted through by some more muscular devil.
I think Mendax is more of a boot guy so thats what I am betting Tariqs next sandwich on.
Portia Porphyria-Jeggare continues pushing the tactical-ideas conversation forward. "Well, I'm certainly able to contribute in a spell battle, even despite Demon SR. And considering we're -- I believe -- heading to Abaddon, specifically a realm of War perhaps even close to Szuriel -- I think we better be ready for melee.
"But my specialty if tricks and bluffs and gambits. If there's a chance to con or fool or manipulate, in order to get more information and a tactical advantage (such as a surprise attack), I like to try. And hey, when it doesn't work and if they see through my facade, well, if we were going to fight anyway,...
I'm fairly good with stealth and taking advantage of holes in armor. If Rorek can get the attention of a target for example, I can start aiming for hamstrings.
I am pretty decent at getting attention.
Smirks Rorek has he cradles his extremely large axe.
We are in Abbadon, so combat can always start at any moment.
Rorek says as he uses 3 wands on himself.
for lead blade wand
No dice needed for shield or long arm from a wand.
Garidan seems taken by surprise by the conversation. He looks stunned. "Uhm. Combat, hein? I'm not really good at that. As a matter of fact, I must admit that sword fighting is actually the reason I landed down here in the first place. But you seem all very well suited and experienced and I will provide, whatever Asmodeus grants me. And be sure, it's going to be useful."
As you step into the portal all of your previous sensations melt away. You’re surrounded by a thick red mist. The sound of Mendax and his dungeon muffles before falling silent. The ground beneath you evaporates away, and yet you feel no sensation of falling. For a fraction of second, it goes dark, and all you can see is each other. And then, just as quickly, your feet touch the ground and you can readily take in your surroundings.
The ground is a disgusting jagged mess. The texture almost reminds you of hamburger meat or a dried scab, and it’s roughly the same color. There doesn’t seem to be a sky, just an endless expanse of floating masses and stacked layers of landscape.You hear the calls of what might be birds, but it’s strange and alien. In the distance a few animals run across the landscape, too far away for you to identify. The air is heavy and smells metallic. To your left is a river, which flows evenly downhill.
You’re in the middle of a forest, but not like anything you’ve seen on Golarion. The trees are roughly the size and shape of a maple, but they have no leaves and their bark is black. They vary in size, ranging from ones that reach up to your knee to ones as big as mature oaks. As you step closer you notice something disconcerting: the base of the trees look like corpses, complete with faces frozen in anguish. As you get closer, you can just vaguely hear a faint moan come from the trees. In the distance, roughly 1000 feet ahead, is a walled encampment, with a small circle of smoke rising up from within it.
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”Enjoying the view?” Mendax snarks at you, his voice only a faint buzz in the back of your mind. ”Right now, you’re in what the demons call a Forest of Corpses. Here they grow Ptoma trees, which are used in the production of magic weapons, wands, etc.”
”As I understand it, they take a seed from the starter, make an incision on a slave’s body, put it in them, and cast an advancement spell on it. -1 Slave, +1 Corpse Tree. They let it grow, cut it down, and float it down the river. Get the idea?”
”As to why you’re here: that walled in area ahead of you is the… logger’s camp, for lack of a better word. You might as well call it a fortress. Within those walls, kept among the slaves, is the key to my entire plan. A Zebub by the name of Quercus. He’s the only one who has any lead on where my soldiers ended up. Right as he was captured, he sent me his final message, telling me that he would end up here. I know he’s still alive thanks to a connection we have as master and servant, but thanks to this damn anchor, I can't communicate with him. If he ends up a tree then all of his information dies with him. Your mission is to find and rescue him. Once you’ve gotten him out of the camp, I’ll direct you to a refuge.”
An image is flashed into your minds: A map of the area around the camp.
”Unfortunately I’ve no idea what the inside of the camp looks like, so you’ll have to figure that out yourselves. Good luck! You’ll need it…”
Hmm Rorek harrumphs.
What can I think of terms of bluffs to get in? I dont do much at range, and starting the fight on a parpet is far superior then having to climb one while they are shooting at me.
My other Patron is relatively well know for running a lot of crafting shenangians. Sending someone in her stead to inspect new possible sources of Abbadon wood? Our adversary and that Patron are on normal terms. From memory, quality of the wood depends on "quality" of the sacrificed soul, so we could easily request an inspection of their seeds. Would certainly tell us something about the total number, guard patterns, possible openings of less guards being present and not require all that much deceptive magic.
If we go like that, I am her muscle as is Briggi, Portia, she is known for nearly exclusively favoring female seargents, is her seargent in charge, Miriani a good mortal adventurer she is currently corrupting, Garidan legal advice, and Mr. Tariq got caught with the grubby hand in the cookie jar and is ordered to adventure so that he looses some weight.
"And who might this Patron of yours be that we shall represent?"
I have the unusual distinction of being associated with the Lady "Vellexia the Illustrious" of Alyushinnyrra, a fair lady who is commonly included in the top 3 of "most powerfull individuals" in the city, given that she represents in interests of its high society. Succubus who is also specifically a spell caster, somewhat of a patron of the arts, although you dont want to fail in her auditions.
It is rumored that she was considered Lady Nocticulas equal, before the latter went on her epic demon lord killing spree and gained enormous power on account of her kills, that was a couple of millenia ago.
Her main antagonist is boredom, and she reacts well to essentially, antics and shenangians, the more insane the better. What she desired I was compelled to provide, without a whole lot of choice in the manner.
Rorek speaks as if stating his age.
@GM no idea what the kn. planes roll to research/know about Vellexia is. She is kind of famous, which should make it easier, but also very chaotic, changing her stick quite randomly, so one can easily end up with inaccurate or out of date information.
It is a semi bluff, given that my association with her is common knowledge. You see, if they fall for the bluff its their fault, Abyssal law is quite clear on that, if you got cheated, its your own damned fault, as long as we are cheating the demons in the fort and not her, she will be relatively neutral, if she gets a free fort or a cut of the forts production out of it because we ended up murdering the garrisons commander, she may even offer some manner of reward. Not to me because she has me, but possibly to you because she doesnt have any claims on any of you yet.
Tariq casts a spell on himself and says:
It's a pity that we don't have much time. I could make them all sick with monstrous diseases there... 2-3 days and this fort would be so weakened that it could be taken with bare hands.
He smiles and clearly likes this idea, as if he is savoring a delicious croissant with excellent qadirian coffee in the best restaurant in Korvosa.
Of course, if there are demons inside and not daemons. The latter are more often resistant to diseases... Oh well. In the absence of this option, I support the bluff plan. It remains only to solve the details... Maybe it's just worth choosing someone more solid as our patron? No offense, Rorek.