"Sorry to butt in like this, but I've been informed by some higher ups and asked to deliver you a message." *various paper shuffles* "Ahem. 'To the Illustrious Lady Vellexia, No. You are not a demon lord. There was a typo in the script, and that Schir is a f***ing idiot who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. Sorry to get your hopes up. Signed, A Joint Venture of Geryon and Abraxas'. Better luck next time."
TLDR; I wasn't paying attention when I wrote that and forgot that Vellexia isn't a demon lord. Please forgive my ignorance.
Greetings Sir Mendax, in the interest of both potentially preserving the forts and its economic value for further use as well as reducing the odds of our adversaries murdering hostages critical to your plans, we plan to bluff our way in, after doing some best practices recon work.
We shall pretend to be representatives of Lady Vellexia as this bluff is rather easy to do given my unique circumstances.
Is there any information, such as the average financial value created per day, the rough value of a tree, or differences in tree value based on the soul used to seed it, or the typical means of prisoner procurement, it would be most appreciated.
Rorek focuses on his connection with Mendax, speaking loudly to inform the rest of the party on the manner of his request.
"Playing it safe, are ya?" he chuckled. "That's good, lessens the chance of things going awry." There's a pause. "To answer your question, yes, I can fudge some numbers to help out your disguise attempt. A fair word of warning though: the grunts will fall for it, but one of the bean counters probably won't. And if none of you have disguises they'll be hard pressed to believe you."
+5 To any Bluff attempts related to your legitimacy, this bonus decreases to +2 against accountants and others directly involved in the business. The Bluff will come at either a -5 or -10 if none of you wear disguises: for a demon of Vellaxia's status to send a party of just mortal slaves for business meeting would likely be regarded as either a prank at best or a lie at worst.
Rorek feels as if his mind is used as a post station, and is unable to gleam any of the contents.
** spoiler omitted **
A faint buzz in the mind of Mr. Thricedamned:
"That sounds like the most ignorant, mind-numbing and plebeian show ever conceived! Why, only a brain dead lemure would want to watch something like that!
...
I love it! Perhaps after this... kerfuffle is dealt with, something can be arranged. I own a few souls currently receiving work on the third ring that might interest you as well."
Mendax would totally be cool with helping you guys bluff your way in: just gotta ask.
”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.”
”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…”
Knowledge (Planes) DC 13:
A Zebub, also known as an accuser devil, is a small winged devil that looks something like a cross between a baby and a maggot or fly. They're well known as scouts and spies due to their unique ability to record anything they perceive and play it back on command.
Forgive my map drawing skills, art is not my forte (yet).
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. (i.e. You have your gear now).
Tariq:
On your bag, pinned with a jagged nail, is a small paper sack. Within it is a single pulled pork sandwich. There is a small note, written in perfect Varisian and extremely stylized cursive. It simply says: “Whiner”.
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.”
Mendax's smile grows wider with each signature. When Tariq signs, he chuckles then laughs. "THE CONTRACT IS SEALED. MAY YOUR SERVICES BE QUICK AND WITHOUT COMPLICATION! 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.
Resurrection is complete. You have access to all your abilities, but you still don't have your equipment yet.
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.
AKA, you can instantly be given the Stunned effect (no save) if Mendax wants to. Don't expect too much railroading with this, just if you directly disobey his orders.
"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.
This is just to let you all get properly introduced. If you feel like you have, just mention it in the Discussion tab and I'll post again.
I heard Fylakas had one of his Shadow Demons cast Mage Hand on the smoothie to make it fall on the laptop. Fylakas must know that we're coming after him and that's why he sent one of his stooges to disrupt us.
"o fuk"
Laptop seems to be working ok, just a little sticky. Thank the higher powers!
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?"
He's just mad that you used his own words against him.
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 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.
Bluff:1d20 + 26 ⇒ (16) + 26 = 42
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.
Portia Porphyria-Jeggare wrote:
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.
Portia Porphyria-Jeggare wrote:
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.”
Portia Porphyria-Jeggare wrote:
"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.”
For Vellaxia:
”And that includes you!”
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.
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.”
Bluff:1d20 + 26 ⇒ (20) + 26 = 46
Opposed Sense Motive:
The truth is Mendax is talking out his ass. The contract lacks details on this mission because he’s not really sure how a bunch of low level nobodies are going to beat his enemy and all of his forces. He just doesn’t have a better option.
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 Vestgeir wrote:
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!”
Knowledge Planes DC 19:
Kytons are horrible monsters related to devils that torture and vivisect people both out of self improvement and a desire to feel new sensations (think Cenobites from the Hellraiser franchise). Don’t take this offer!
Bluff:1d20 + 26 ⇒ (6) + 26 = 32
Opposed Sense Motive:
He’s actually kidding, he’s not really going to do that, and if you call him on it, he’ll admit it and just refuse to give you what you want.
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.
[dice=K.Planes for Mr. Purple]d20+11 Nice start, maybe Rorek only knows Boob demons.
[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.”
Rorek Thricedamned wrote:
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.”
Rorek Thricedamned wrote:
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.”
To help speed things along, I figured I'll just post everything at once. Prepare for a wall of text!
”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.
Knowledge (Nobility) DC 20:
Fylakas is a slaver in The Abyss. His influence is widespread and his skill and knowledge is deep. As a result of this, he has gained a unique position as a highly sought after seller to both Shax and Shamira.
If the roll is 25 or higher:
Fylakas is a personal rival to Mendax. Due to the unique situation of their territories mingling across planar boundaries, they find themselves in constant strife with one another: Mendax convinces his mortal followers to sell their souls to him, and Fylakas comes across the border to kidnap and steal his captured souls. They view this rivalry as something of a game, if a very serious one: neither one is capable of killing the other permanently so they settle for humiliating each other at every opportunity.
Fylakas is clearly a Horned Demon, known in the Abyssal tongue as a Kalavakus. Wide spread slavers, war lords, and jailers, they thrive in any position where they can give orders to those weaker than them.
If the roll is 25 or higher:
Horned Demons have a wide variety of tools to help them capture their slaves. They’re skillful in hand-to-hand combat and can trip and disarm opponents with ease. What makes them most dangerous is their magical abilities: the very spoken words of a Horned Demon can make an opponent do anything he pleases, even putting themselves in bondage at the demon’s command.
If the roll is 30 or higher:
The most dangerous and terrible ability the Horned Demon has access to is that of their ability to enslave souls. A single pointed finger at a victim and a metaphysical shackle is placed on their soul, ensuring that they have no will to resist the demon’s commands. Even death won’t save an enslaved soul, as killing the victim only empowers the demon further. The only weakness of this ability is that it only works on a single opponent at a time.
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.
”HE CONVINCED ONE OF MY F***ING CAPTAINS TO BETRAY ME!!!”
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.
Knowledge (Planes) DC 15:
A Bearded Devil (called a Barbazu in Infernal). They’re well known combatants and soldiers among the Devils. They’re also supposed to be fire-proof, which makes this torture seemingly impossible.
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?”
Linguistics or other applicable skill DC 25 to determine authenticity:
The contract is very short, but written in proper legal common. It does indeed include everything Mendax has described to the letter, but it’s rather sparse in mission details.
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."
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.
Intimidation:1d20 + 26 ⇒ (18) + 26 = 44
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."
He doesn't like people touching him. Or letting part of their body touch him.
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...
will my familiar be with me or with my equipment?
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."
I'll say you've got your familiar, since he's/she's an intrinsic part of you now, but neither of you have any magical abilities nor gear.
Lets keep the planning seperate, also helps me because I am going to roleplay Rorekts "excellence of decisionmaking!
** spoiler omitted **
Rorek can expect zero.zero help from Vellexia, unless whatever he is tasked to do is "assasinate Vellexia", "assassinate Nocticula" or "assassinate Shamira", she would sabotage the first 2 and enthusiastically back the third. Note that Shamira is CR 22 or so.
Vellaxia:
Relenting a bit, he responds back. "Well, alright, good to know we're on the same wavelength on this." At the offer of access to the account, Mendax's response becomes dry and flat. "Two things: first, it's laughable that you would attempt to bribe me with something worth so little to me and expect some kind of partnership between us. Second-" An image is transmitted along, showing a specific sub-clause of Rorek's contract. This is one of a Contract Devil's special abilities."you are aware that I can spy on him at will, yes?" Another tone shift, now more diplomatic. "Listen, I'm not trying to get in the way of the upper crust and I have no doubt that both his Lordship and her Ladyship wouldn't trust you without cause. I'm just happen to be working on something with a rival of mine, possibly someone you know, and I can't afford to break operational security on this. You keep to your business, I'll keep to mine, and the both of us can should be able to avoid any conflicts without undue... clause." A goofy mental laugh, followed by a cringe.
Rorek looks a lot less smug and focused then a second before.
A Message for Vellaxia:
"Really? I'd assumed he already knew." A mental chuckle. "Now I almost wish I'd kept it a secret, see how long it took him to figure it out." His tone and intentions shift, now more serious. "At any rate, since we're in communication, I want to make something clear. I don't mind voyeurs, but I HATE thieves. If your goal with my thrall here is mere entertainment, then more power to you. But if for one fraction of a second it seems like you intend to spirit him away or worse try to break my contract, I'll tear your little profane gift off him and excise the piece of the soul it's attached to for good measure." And then, just as quickly as it came, Mendax is all smiles again."With that out of the way, I'm sure this bizarre little arrangement will prove quite entertaining for the both of us."
For Rorek:
Rorek can't hear all of the above conversation, just bits and pieces. He fully feels the emotions involved though: amusement, followed by fury and hatred, and then a calm happy lull.
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.
