The Internal Affairs

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Slayer of Love
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Posted by Slayer of Love »


"Ooo. Strong play, Kristy. Or is it, Kristy? Suspiciously strong. You really holdin' them aces? I'll tell you what, I'll fill the pot for you. I'll raise you ten souls. Just out of curiosity."

Kristobal considers a while watching the poker table in musing before tossing his cards folded.

"Looks like you've got it champ. Good game."

"Back off already? Like a chicken? That's unlike you."

"You know it's going to be my last mission? No need to risk more. Last task for searg and I'm off the Intervention team. Off to good old palace duty. No wading through mud and blek, no rubbing off demon remains off my horse, no listening to that flap eared knave's bollocking... One more victory and I'm off to escorting fancy ladies of the palace through clean corridors and just spending time at the stables.

Going to have better things to do with my ducats than risking them only to prove something I need not proving."


"Oh look at him, fancy, responsible lad. And stable boy too, harharharh! You love this life Kristy, who are you trying to fool? Tell us there's a girl."

Kristobal rolls his eyes for he knows he will not be able to deceive his squadmates. They have been scourging the planes for too long, they know each other too well.

"There... might be a female waiting back at Malagard. I'm looking forward to finding out."

The conversation stops as Bezugash busts in the gambling den violently.

"ALL RIGHT YOU MISERABLE GATHRA-FACED MONGRELS ... "



* * *



First Symbol, the pain, hardly even slows down the squad by a slight - four riders resist the magic entirely while the remainder are at most puzzled at being hit with something so mild. The second, fear, leaves the narzugon altogether as though they were immune, but two of the nightmares cry out a panicked roar and kick wildly kicking their horsemen off their backs. They run around in circles, accidentally stamping one of the fallen riders.

Bezugash is quick to recognise the nature of the situation and reacts accordingly. Amidst a fight he does not say the orders, but communicates them telepathically, which is clearly more convenient, more accurate and less suspectible to interception.


"::: Traps. Arcane. Spread out, locate, disarm! :::"

The narzugon disperse in all directions seeking to regain positional advantage and subsequent symbols hit them with similar magnitude, no severe damage to the squad as a whole but enough to cripple a few lesser lucky sods. Seeing a few of his subordinates bouncing off magical walls the commander again responds as demanded by the situation and blasts the area with a powerful wand of mage's disjunction.

"::: Damned magic! STAMP over all magic! Ahhaahahhahahahahaha!!! Eat it like snails! Haaaahahahahahaha... ::: "

This is the last his subordinates hear from Bezugash, for the Symbol of Insanity has just activated and deprived the commander of his sane thought. Instead of the area he focuses the blast on the hellfire lance of his own, dismantling the powerful weapon with the disjunction spell. Hellfire is a capricious power. It will not simply allow to be destroyed like this. It goes off in a powerful explosion. Bezugash goes down engulfed in belching magical flames, stone beneath and the heavy plate around him melting as he chortles babbling nonsense.

Depraved of the commander's telepathic coordination, in an instant, the squad loses its horrifying coordination and efficiency of a mastefully enginereed machine. The nightmares run about erratically whilst subsequent Symbols hit the riders, each new one taking more and more visible toll on the horsemen as each of the previous ones crumbled their resistance more and more severely. Rather than the elite, untouchable, crushing cavarly force on dreadful fiendish beasts they resemble a wrecked commotion of confused children tossed in a middle of a stampede.

Kristobal, harrowed by necromantic forces, pierced with pieces of shrapnel from Bezugash's exploded plate and suffering subsequent waves of trap's black magic, retains the little sanity and strength to take on initiative.


"::: Take down that bloody forcefield! Concentrate your attacks on the edges! :::"

He shouts out telepathically only to see his companion being approached by the red-eyed iron behemoth.
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Serena
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Posted by Serena »


It probably wasn’t the huge blade piercing through the knight's spiked armor and impaling him through his back and to his own horse, nor the Nightmare caught by the confusion that had inexplicably turned against its catatonic rider, viciously hitting him with its hooves. It was the ending of the arcane formula that the mage had been uttering unheard amidst the chaos that probably made the difference for Kristobal: one by one, the knights and horses crowding the cage started withering in front of his eyes, not even a sound escaping them as their living energies were forcefully unraveled and flew toward the half drow in fluid, dark stripes, enveloping and permeating his body with otherworldly power for a brief moment and then falling down at his feet like a heavy drape before dissipating.
In the silence that followed, shadows started coalescing in the middle of the carnage until a single figure made of pure darkness emerged, red eyes moving between the few survivors left at the very back of the cage. Just a moment longer, and then the shadow slithered toward the mage, who dismissed it with an annoyed gesture of his hand right as it started coiling around him.

"Always hated this side effect. Not to mention the taste is displeasing, to say the least," he stated as if he was commenting the weather, taking then a step closer to the force cage and directing his attention to Kristobal, immediately noticing how at this time he seemed to be one still mostly holding on to his wit.
He raised a hand, finger pointing toward him before speaking to the construct, currently busy putting out of its misery one of the survivor nightmares.
"I want that one alive," he announced calmly, before adding "but remove his arms, I don’t want him playing tricks, they almost gave me a headache with that disjunction wand.

Kill all the rest, horses included."


The red light behind the golem's helm flickered in acknowledgment and then the armor started pacing heavily toward the target.
"Hand me my shovel, I'm going in!"

Plays: Aidan Rhistel - Factor and Law Representative of the Fated
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Slayer of Love
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Joined: Tue Mar 17, 2020 4:54 pm

Posted by Slayer of Love »


The dreaded spell puts a swift end to the struggling of the horsemen and their mounts, and those who withstand even that barely have any strength left to resist the iron executioner. Kristobal howls a tragic "Nooooooooo... !" as he watches his steed being slain helpless, and with the last strand of his stamina and will he picks up one of the grim lances. Dismounted he makes the Hell cavarly's final stand. Facing the golem he props the gruesome chiv against his back foot. Holding it steady, flat like a pike, he engages the construct in a perilous fight. It is no mindless charge of someone who lost his wit and temper, even now his combat is firmly disciplined. He stands his ground, bracing the hideous chiv, whose far reach prevents the golem from getting in range for an attack or simply stomping lumberingly forward until another squishy meatbag is no more. There is a rigorous, masterfully trained harmony to the devil's melee technique: few small steps backwards when the golem seizes the initiative, evasion to side and counterattack, pushing forward with short, methodical prods, regaining distance - clearly, it is not the first time he faces a large enemy of hulking mass.

The fight could last, in terms of pure melee prowess it is fair - even seems the narzugon is gaining an upper hand. In one moment, the golem strikes, a strike which not only misses the devil, but also opens opens the construct's defense, and the Kristobal exploits it skillfully, lunging forward with a strike that lands his lance in the middle of the iron chassis. The heavy armour melts under the baleful magical embers, heating to white and sizzling violently, but the hit misses the critical components of the core entombed under thick metal. The golem, depraved of self-preservation instincts, calculates that sticking that chiv in his chassis means the target is going to be defeseless. It does not retreat, only pushes through, skewering itself on the hellfire lance, and indeed, Kristobal does not find time to retrieve his weapon before being trampled.

He utters a myriad of profane curses at Rhistel and unintelligible, agonised grunts as the mechanical servant completes the ruthless task.
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Serena
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Posted by Serena »


"They will regrow," he stated without sentiment toward the knight, his gaze clearly analyzing through the cage the damage inflicted on the construct, a slightly displeased look on his face.
"And do not think it's personal, I just do not enjoy being hunted," he offered after a moment, returning his attention on the golem once more to give him a simple order in a hushed tone. The construct turned around and started tearing away the distinctive symbols from the fallen, gathering them together before returning to the mage.

"Now, I will let you know I have means to extract information from you, should I want to," he started after a moment, briefly inspecting the items the golem had brought him before slipping them into his bag. Once again, the construct was sent to retrieve even more items from the fallen, this time, the equipment left behind. "But I would rather spare me the trouble, and spare you the humiliation. So, would you start by telling me who sent you?"
"Hand me my shovel, I'm going in!"

Plays: Aidan Rhistel - Factor and Law Representative of the Fated
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Slayer of Love
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Posted by Slayer of Love »


Kristobal may be defeated, pinned and mutilated, but he is far from betraying his masters.

"Think you scare me, mortal? Go on, then, bring it on. There is nothing you can do to hurt me that they wouldn't do a thousandfold. See how long you can keep that up before they come again, only fourty strong. See how long you can court death herself before your luck runs out. And all that for what, a name of someone who passed down somebody else's orders? You're going to find them too? Follow the trail till it reaches the top?"
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Serena
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Posted by Serena »


It was hard to tell whether the half drow really expected -or wanted?- the Knight to answer or not, his expression giving away almost nothing in regard. Not even the other's words seemed to have any real effect on him, and when he spoke his tone was almost distracted, thoughtful.
"It is commendable, it really is. Too bad your honour and faithfulness is wasted and misplaced with them," he stated, finally dismissing the cage only so that he could step closer to the knight as he looked for something in his bag, the iron golem reflexively abandoning what he was doing to go and stand beside him, attentive. "But you are aware of that already, aren't you? It is your eternal punishment after all, forever bound to follow orders without asking why." he retorted in an almost monotone voice as he rested his gaze on the fiend once more. There was a carefully folded and sealed parchment in his hand now, and he went to lower himself to one knee, bringing his gaze at the same level of the warrior's.

"You caught my bluff, however. I do not really want information from you. I know already you have none of interest for me. But I do need you to do something for me, and I am sure you will find the request acceptable" he added with the ghost of a smile on his lips as he went to deliberately insert the folded parchment between the plates of the fiend's armor.
"This is an official letter meant for Viscount Tiberon of the Seventh Circle. I would like you to deliver it for me on your way back as it contains information they might find relevant."
"Hand me my shovel, I'm going in!"

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Slayer of Love
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Posted by Slayer of Love »


"Wrong. My service stems from infinite magnaminty, not punishment..." Kristobal corrects more out of the need for defiance of his captor rather than for phillosophical discussion, and after a small pause he spends glaring deeply at Rhistel, he adds "...but you will understand that in due time."

Having satisfied that need he does not need long to consider Rhistel's terms.

"Fine. Free me and I will perform this service."


* * *



Back in Jangling Hiter where the infernal jury deliberates on next steps, Tacitae's servants complete questioning of all the staff and the jurors. The servants are found, very effectively, to know nothing relevant to the disappearance of the accused, The jury members, seemingly both cooperative and suspicious, too provide no single, straight fact that would be useful in condemning anyone for the incident, instead misreprenting the truths and deflecting attentions from schemes of their own. Not surprisingly - extracting anything useful from hardened pit fiends or equivalent, while retaining civility demanded by their courtier representative status, is a task nothing short of miraculous, and that is not even taking into the account the time needed to break them.

The representatives of the remaining courts also do not rest on their laurels, the ones with larger stakes in the trial in just a few cycles have had dozens of secretive meetings. Some were to issue instructions to their servants to conduct investigations of their own, mobilise reactive forces, comb the Hell and the rest of the 'verse for the missing prisoner. Some were between them and other nobles, haggling for bribes and deals, exchanging information - and misinformation, threatening and manipulating each other.

Once again the judges gather in the hall, and the prosecutor Alecto steps forward and speaks demandingly.


"Miladies, Milords. It is time to realise the justice has been obstructed and in no way we can continue the fair preceedings. Since the accused is unavailable for questioning, by principle of failure to appear before jury, we must assume the accused has nothing more to say on her defense. I hereby put forward a formal request to default the case's result to guilty. I urge, Miladies and Milords, to consider it swiftly so that the Sigil project can be resumed without needless delay."
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Serena
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Posted by Serena »


"Feel free to lie to me, knight. Hope you're not fool enough to lie to yourself, though."

The fiend was indeed released shortly after, with no additional precaution whatsoever: the wizard seemed absolutely uncaring whether the knight would be true to his words or not, which meant he either had other plans to offset the eventuality of his request being ignored, or believed the narzugon to know better than to single handedly decide what to share with a superior or not.

It was once the hell knight had been put back on his feet and escorted away from the premises by the iron golem that the half drow went to summon a spinagon, handing him a stack of seven identically folded and sealed parcels, each accompanied by one of the Malgardian insigna he had ripped away from the knights bodies. An equal amounts of soul prisms was offered in payment, the recipients penned on each envelope: Baron Jerubbaal, Burgrave Nimroth, Castellan Gomory, Landgrave Abimelech, Margrave Bellerophon, Marchioness Enepsigos and Marquis Virgil.
He let the small fiend know that he was going be paid seven prisms more if he successfully performed that task as quickly and efficiently as possible, and then sent him off.


Upstairs, in one of the empty rooms, the ritual to trap Alecto was waiting for him to complete it, and he wasn't going to stall it any longer.
Last edited by Serena on Sun Dec 06, 2020 7:38 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"Hand me my shovel, I'm going in!"

Plays: Aidan Rhistel - Factor and Law Representative of the Fated
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Serena
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Posted by Serena »


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"Hand me my shovel, I'm going in!"

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Slayer of Love
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Posted by Slayer of Love »


Narzugon's word is his bind. Of course he carries out his end of the deal, which was not a bad one to make, considering. With closer ties to the elusive nobles of Hell, he reaches Jangling Hiter far before the spinagon does.

There, Alecto's proposal spawns a fiery debate among the judges. Firm protests of some clash with insistent pressure from the others, as usual in company of fierce accusations, veiled threats, ironised mockery, and fruitless attempts at calming the rest down. In midst of that wild chatter one of the lawyers tries to approach Tiberon subtly.

"Can't you see I'm busy...? " Tiberon protests but the lawyer mutters to his ear something that's got his attention "...they did... what? ....... what, a mortal, are you joking? ..... He.. what?.... You've got it? Give it to me. "

The viscount breaks the seal on the parchment received and, mildly grossed with the bloodied attachments, reads the letter. The unexpected message somehow satisfied him for swiftly he finds a way to use it. He stands up from his seat and heads to assume the floor ignoring the heated debate. He carries the letter, held above his head like a relic of importance, eyeing down the jurors one by one to get their attention.

"Hear this, miladies and milords." he announces and the arguing nobles quiet down, intrigued with viscount's boldness. He reads before them the words of Rhistel's letter.

"Our indeciviseness as a governing body has lead to a diplomatic crisis where the project can no longer function.

I appreciate that the jury is unable to reach an agreement, but this"
he waves the letter before them "demands we take action now.

I demand that an acting charge d'affaires is appointed within one cycle from now. I put forward the candidature of Alecto of Grenpoli."


The proposal is about to fuel another wave of rumbling quarrels between the courtiers, but Tacitae speaks now, announcing his decision, and no one dares interrupt him, or it.

"::::: Motion granted. ::::: "

"::::: Candidatures can be put forward until tomorrow when we vote for the acting charge d'affaires for Sigil. In event of a tie, the higher circle's candidate will be chosen. ::::: "

"::::: The jury will now take a recess. ::::: "

The devils begin to leave the hall, some more satisfied than others. Like Tiberon, Enepsigos is glad to see their conspiracy is on good track. Maladominians making their proposal official means all she has left to claim her prize, the hijacked prisoner, and repay Alecto with a vote of support the next day, changing the 3-3-3 stalemate into 4-3-2 victory. Out of sudden marchioness' confidence in the intrigue's success pales, when she sees hissing smoke and bright, unnatural to Hell, light enveloping Alecto and pulling her into a tear between dimensions. The treacherous malbolgian noble wonders why would Alecto answer a summoning call in a moment like this, but judging from the struggling the prosecutor put up before disappearing from the plane, it was not one she chose to answer voluntarily.

There is an uproar amongst the judges, but Enepsigos does not intend on wasting any more time with that. She came too close to closing this deal and clearly something still stands in the way.
Last edited by Slayer of Love on Tue Dec 08, 2020 6:57 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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