082: Only a stranger at home

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> Masuko meets the party again aboard the Furies' ship later in the day; he's armed and armored and looking ready for trouble, even if not necessarily looking for it. Appearing formidable is no doubt a sensible precaution for travelers in Hell. "You have made your final preparations?" he asks for confirmation.
<Steph> "Ready is as ready does," replies Stephanie, snapping her tail.
<Franceska> "I'm ready," Franceska responds, feeling strangely eager.
<El-Cideon> "I am as ready as I think it possible for a person to be before going to the worst place in the history of places," Rosemund states. She is no longer troubling to hide her supernatural aspects.
<Julia> "I believe we are prepared," Julia says mildly, standing just in front of one of Bedford's enormous forelegs.
<Franceska> "If this is truly the worst place, then anything past it will be better by comparison. My, what a concept!"
<Steph> "Oh, don't forget that's it's a huge place, with many layers of bad, each one worse than the last!"
<El-Cideon> "It is good that you can be optimistic about the situation," Rosemund says charitably.
<El-Cideon> Masuko nods. "We will be transferring directly to the temple of Hextor in Jangling Hiter. It is as close a safe haven as you might expect to find during our visit. However, do not think to exploit their aegis for protection if our task should go awry in any manner," he cautions. "They provide authority for our presence in the city, not for our mission." So saying, he turns and nods to the ship's hulking, undead ferryman, who with a simple turn of the wheel somehow shifts the ship sideways, through dimensions--
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Current planar traits: -2 on CHA-based checks for chaotic or good characters, -4 for both | '
<El-Cideon> --and the Titan's Carcass appears in midair above the streets of a city, hovering next to a gothic metal spire with an open receiving area for aerial visitors. Below is a dizzying vista: the city stretches out for miles of shambling warehouse blocks, prisons, and bloated devilish mansions; here and there great chains embedded in the stratum of the city reach up and out of sight to hold it aloft from some firmament lost out of sight amidst noxious clouds; and beyond the city's edge, far below it, stretches an endless expanse of swamp. Even from up here the odor of decay is insistent. A cold wind blows an icy rain about as the ship maneuvers into docking position. Meanwhile, those less spiritually attuned to their new world instantly experience a sense of crawling discomfort within their very skulls, the world itself issuing constant imprecations, threats, insinuations and invitations.
<Franceska> "The Abyss was worse," Franceska declares once the ship settles onto its final approach for landing. "Although the plane of death should get an honorable mention, I feel."
<Julia> Luckily Julia feels quite at home on any plane, so she's able to look about her new environment without any distracting headaches. "Well... we better be sure of our directions. I imagine once you get lost in here you'll never be found."
<El-Cideon> "The company in full will not be staying with us during our visit," Masuko explains, meanwhile. "Though martially capable, most lack the...social discipline to excel in such surroundings without incident. I will call upon them when we have gathered sufficient intelligence for the assault proper to commence."
<El-Cideon> "OH, someone'll find you," Crier adds in cheerily. "You'd just rather they didn't."
<Steph> Stephanie covers her mouth for a moment, looking faintly nauseous and, as a result, is silent.
<El-Cideon> Masuko steps across the dock to interact with a shaven-headed priest waiting to receive him. "Prepare lodgings for myself and seven guests," he says authoritatively. "They are not acolytes, but their martial designs are sympathetic."
<El-Cideon> Crier looks closely at Stephanie's expression, and then Rosemund's. "Hey, you just have to tell Hell who's boss!" she assures Stephanie. "You don't have to let anybody in your head that you don't want to."
<Franceska> "Yes, Rosemund," Franceska agrees. "Do ignore anyone trying to get inside your head."
<Steph> "You don't understand. I already had problems with voices," replies Stephanie, rubbing her forehead. "Now it's like there's two sets and they're arguing."
<El-Cideon> "I bought a ring for that!" Rosemund says in an attempt to be optimistic.
<Franceska> "I really should spend my money on something. Do you know making more of it started to lose its appeal?"
<Julia> "Yes, I understand," Julia nods. "Most of mine just goes into spell components."
<Franceska> "I might just go look for the most expensive thing on sale and buy it one day."
<Steph> "That would be one of the disused royal palaces," replies Stephanie, grimacing. "With all the trimmings. If you have the right peerage."
<El-Cideon> You are shortly led out of the cold and within the cathedral, which could best be described as militantly utilitarian. After guiding you to a suite of bare cells surrounding a common area, Masuko says, "I must pay proper respects to the resident high priest. Crier can brief you on what gossip we have gathered on your target's servants. I would suggest that when an opportunity presents itself to encounter our target socially, you make an attempt to ingratiate yourself with one or more of his lackeys and thereby procure an introduction. Approaching a powerful devil unannounced would likely be perceived as...impertinent." So saying, Masuko leaves you alone with his teammates to scheme. Aside from the company's scarred, ragged priestess, he brought with him the stone-skinned Verda, and a swordswoman dressed like a dandy with slick blue hair that constantly sheds water.
<Franceska> "Would it be the same if another devil approached him?" Franceska wonders, glancing over at Crier.
<El-Cideon> "That'd probably depend on its station," she says, cheerful discussing infernal etiquette as anything else. "You know how they are here, right? Status is everything."
<Franceska> "So for one without a station, it might well work worse than for us, who might be humans but have a reason to be here?"
<Julia> "Actually yes, where do we stand?" Julia asks. "Is it just a case of might is right, or are we expected to defer even to the weaker types of devils?"
<Steph> "Is it all about patronage? We just need to make sure not to shank the wrong imp?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh yeah, we're all just fodder in a devil's eyes, grist for the mill, etcetera and so on," she replies. "The good thing is we have a church behind us, so if anybody messes with us, they have to consider offending the organization. But that doesn't make us important, so we still have to be careful who we talk to and how. Like, nobody respects an imp! But that doesn't mean you can go around just killing them to prove you're not to be messed with, because it's somebody's underling and that somebody'd take offense. And the soldier types like bearded devils you just have to sound tough with, they're simple. But anything above that and you probably need to show deference first and foremost."
<Franceska> "Well, isn't that interesting?"
<El-Cideon> "Just remember, they've all got big egos, and behind 'em all is this little voice scared of their ego not being flattered enough. So just make sure it is to start things off right!"
<Steph> "Are crimes investigated?"
<El-Cideon> "Uhhh, that depends on what you define as a crime," Crier says. "If you mean, like, 'that mortal girl didn't have a chaperone so I stabbed her in the eye because I could,' that doesn't count as a crime. That's, like, saying hello. Interfering with somebody else's property, though, that's a crime!"
<Franceska> "And everyone in the hovels outside would be someone's property?"
<El-Cideon> A robed priest brings by a selection of wine for any interested parties. Outside the windows, on the cold breeze trails a faint howl that one cannot help but suspect is more than just the wailing of the wind.
<Julia> "Oh, thank you," Julia says, accepting a glass. Because there's nothing like sipping wine and discussing how to avoid getting shanked.
* Franceska accepts one as well, nursing it slowly.
<El-Cideon> "Probably," Crier says. "I mean, if somebody's property, you won't have to ask. They'll wear it on their face. This is kind of the safe quarter for authorized visitors, so you'll find more mortals than elsewhere in the city. Mostly it's souls getting pushed around for the torture factories." Crier has no difficulty announcing this with her usual upbeat air.
<Steph> "Torture factories are a real thing?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh hey, look, you can't act surprised about that here," Crier cautions Stephanie. "It's the premiere industry!"
<Franceska> "Are there factories for making low-ranked devils?" Franceska asks curiously. "Probably from petitioners?"
<Steph> "Hey! I'm not surprised. There are just so many stories that verifying them all is novel in itself."
<El-Cideon> She nods and leans back, kicking her feet idly. "Yeah, that's exactly how it works. I'm not real clear on the details. I gather there's a *lot* of suffering involved," she says, with odd enthusiasm. "Like, they need to scourge away all traces of the mortal life or something before they can shape it into a proper devil? So if you walk by a building that's just like a chorus of screaming, that's what's up."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund decides that wine is a very attractive option at this moment.
<Steph> "So it's not all lemures, all the time then, is it?"
<Franceska> "It really depends on your template."
<El-Cideon> "Well, there's definitely a lot of those," Crier concedes. "Everybody's gotta start somewhere, right?"
<Steph> "Who actually runs these torture factories?"
<Julia> "It would be nicer to start somewhere you can think and feel anything besides constant agony and bitterness," Julia says.
<Franceska> "Yes, it would be."
<El-Cideon> "The more prestigious devils, mostly," she says. "I guess it makes sense, since you can churn out lots of underlings that way, or sell a lot to other devils." She laughs lightly at Julia and Franceska. "Hey, nice has got nothing to do with it. That's just how things work here."
<Steph> "Speaking of work, I suppose we should get to it. Although I'd be just as happy drinking wine until we need something dead." Stephanie shakes out her hair for a moment. "So, what info you got on the big man's minions?"
<El-Cideon> "Aside from this Jill you're looking for? There's four mortals in his service that usually turn up in his entourage when he's out and about. Some of 'em will probably be easier to talk to than others. And gossip is he contracted a dragon to watch over his treasury for him, but we don't really know that for sure. All the same, we should be ready to deal with one."
<Franceska> "A dragon, now? Really? How interesting."
<Steph> "So even devils concede to the kings of monsterkind!"
<Julia> Julia just smiles at the prospect of some dragonslaying/animating.
<El-Cideon> "Well, maybe, but don't tell them that," Crier suggests.
<Steph> "What do you know about these other mortals?"
<El-Cideon> "Anyway," she continues, tallying off four on her callused fingers, "there's his bodyguard, Phalaris, his consort, Calpernia, the mistress of servants, Scarlet, and the house wizard, Shazzred. I haven't met any of them personally because folks, please, I don't come here when I don't have to, but I can give you gossip and impressions."
<Franceska> "Please do."
<Steph> "I'm down with that. Let's go through them backwards, starting with the wizard?"
<El-Cideon> "So he's this elf," Crier starts, and here Rosemund braces for the inevitable comment from Franceska. "He's a real creep, but I probably don't need to add that, right? I mean, he works for a devil, you just go ahead and assume I say that for everyone here, right? Right. So he's a hopeless letch and you might get his interest just because you're all girls but uh you probably don't want to. He likes to play mindgames with people, make 'em do awful things they'll regret later. He probably won't try anything in public, but I guess you never know. Up to you if it's worth the risk. I'll stay away!"
* Franceska nods with conviction when the elf's true nature is revealed.
<Julia> "We've had bad luck with elves like that," Julia says mournfully.
<Steph> "He sounds like every guy ever," muses Stephanie. "Ok, what about Scarlet? She sounds like a... well, like a murderer. I mean, a name like that?"
<Franceska> "He may just need to die before we're done," Franceska agrees.
<El-Cideon> "She's got really red hair," Crier explains, adding with wide eyes, "Original, right? Anyway, she's real pretty and dresses to impress. It's her job to boss around the other servants, because even in Hell somebody's gotta mop the floors, right? And if somebody acts up she has to discipline them, which it sounds like doesn't take much excuse. Real flashy but not as important as she'd probably want to be or as clever as she thinks she is. Remember that girl you knew growing up who could've been smart if she tried to be but never bothered because she didn't need to be smart to get what she wanted? I think this is kind of that girl grown up."
<Julia> "I do wonder where Tiffany is now," Julia admits now that it's been brought to mind.
<Franceska> "And with all that she doesn't even rate as a consort? That is just sad."
<Steph> "That sounds preferable, though. Maybe she got wise."
<El-Cideon> "Hey, would *you* want that job?" Crier says skeptically. "I dunno, maybe bigshot devils look for something different than mortal lads anyway," she adds with a speculative expression.
<Franceska> "I would rather be Stephanie's maid."
<Steph> "I'm not hiring."
<Franceska> "Moving on past this terrible fate worse than death. Who is next?"
<El-Cideon> "You would not have need of a maid before settling down anyway!" Rosemund points out for Stephanie.
<Steph> Stephanie looks at Julia and pointedly taps the side of her head.
<Julia> Julia shrugs in reply.
<El-Cideon> "So his consort's this gith woman," Crier continues. "I'm not sure which kind. Honestly I can't tell them apart anyway. But she must be tough because wow, have you looked at many devils? Anyway, I'm not sure how she wound up here, but it sounds like she likes to fight a lot. She's one of those prove yourself through competitive violence types, right? Actually it sounds like you could pretty much imagine Masuko with boobs and get the picture." After a moment, she adds, "Although really I wouldn't suggest you do that if you don't have to."
<Julia> "Wise advice."
<Steph> "I could get him one of those belts, and we won't have to!"
<El-Cideon> Crier smiles for a moment, but then shakes her head. "Let's table that for later? I don't want to angry her up while we're on the job."
<Steph> "Yes, if we fight her we want to do so in a jocular, friendly-rivalry sort of way, don't we?"
<Franceska> "I would assume a violent all-out battle that leaves her half-dead and bloody."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, I meant Masuko there, see after we switched out his belt he'd be--oh, never mind. Yeah, that would probably work for Calpernia."
<El-Cideon> "So last but probably not least is the devil's bodyguard--I mean, not that a cornugon probably really needs one most of the time, but it's a status thing having a lot of flunkies around, right? Right. Anyway, Phalaris is this big guy who goes around in this crazy suit of armor all the time. Like, *all* the time, our intel mostly just comes from the high priest here, but he can't speak of anyone who knows of Phalaris ever being outside of his suit. He's got this crazy getup like an iron minotaur. Maybe there's a minotaur in there, maybe it's just something else, maybe there's nobody at all. We're not sure. But it sounds like he's too stupid to be disloyal on purpose. We could probably fool him somehow. He likes weapons, and more important, he likes using them to break things. Mostly people, given the chance."
<Julia> "Sounds very straightforward."
<El-Cideon> "Yep," Crier confirms. "And the unimaginative types are the easiest to fool, aren't they?"
<Franceska> "Did one of the hanger ons ever try to seriously go after another?"
<Steph> "You'd think this Calpernia and Phalaris might go at it for giggles."
<El-Cideon> "This Miss Cook of yours cut off one of the wizard's hands years ago," Crier confirms. "I dunno why. I figure we can guess, right? As far as I can tell, none of them like her, but that's about to be expected. They're all rivals for their master's attention, right? But usually rivalries here are sneakier things."
<Steph> "Speaking of," notes Stephanie. "Cook's supposed to be this martial trainer. Who exactly is she training? Devils? People who belong to devils?"
<El-Cideon> "'Conscripts,' is the official term," Crier says, "and they might as well belong to the devils, although they don't usually think of themselves that way. They're mostly mortals lured from the Material or other planes to help out in the Blood War for cash. Mercenaries too stupid to know any better, ignorant commoners desperate for money, that sort of thing. They're not expected or meant to last long. Maybe they live long enough to distract some demons and let the devils complete some tactical objective elsewhere, but that's all any infernal officer wants them for. It sounds like her troops have a strange habit of not dying though, or at least not dying as frequently."
<Franceska> "She's just that good?"
<Steph> "She's had a lot of experience fighting demons and winning," notes Stephanie, with a shrug. "Hey, maybe that's an in. I could be lured by money to fight in the Blood War."
<El-Cideon> Crier shrugs. "I don't know. She goes about her actual business on Avernus. I mean, when there's maneuvers in the offing, that's usually the staging ground."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund shakes her head vigorously at Stephanie's idea. "I do not think anyone should sign anything while we are here!"
<Franceska> "I don't know, it could be a learning experience for her."
<El-Cideon> "There are some things that people do not need to learn," Rosemund insists.
<Franceska> "A better question, really, is whether it would work at getting us closer to her or not."
<El-Cideon> "Probably," Crier agrees. "It's her business, and it's her master's business. The trouble is just getting them interested without, you know, actually finding yourself on the front lines. You might think you're something special, Franceska, but to them you're just another warm body for the mill."
* Franceska frowns. "I might be getting too old for this adventuring business, because my first thought was that I really am that special. And while it is likely true there is no need to take the risky path so soon."
<Steph> "Aren't you, like, twenty?"
<Franceska> "It is a very short career."
<El-Cideon> "Hey, I'm not gonna tell you you're not," Crier says. "You just have to remember what we are to them."
<Julia> "Only for people who die in their second dungeon," Julia insists.
<Franceska> "Aww, you know just what to say sometimes!"
<El-Cideon> "So," Crier adds conversationally, "I seem to remember there was someone else someone was looking for here?"
<Franceska> "Yes. Well. I suppose it is not really a secret, all things considered. Will you be helping me with that first?"
<El-Cideon> "We've probably got a little time before we get a chance to meet our target, so I don't see why not. Masuko was all, 'They shouldn't go out in the street if they don't have to, they'll get eaten alive here!' but it'd be boring just sitting around waiting for an invitation, wouldn't it? These priests, they got no sense of fun."
<Franceska> "Yes, they are too sensible. Still, worst case, we just plane shift out."
<Steph> "Though I'm not sure the best case is worth going out on a limb for. It's sure to be disappointment."
<El-Cideon> She nods. "Alright, so what do you want to do? Did you want to just find him and have a chat? Or are you doing this heroic family rescue from Hell thing? Because *that* last part might blow our cover, Fran."
<Franceska> "I'm not really going to rescue someone who abandoned me and ran away," Franceska assures her. "Unless he can convince me he really had no other choice, I suppose. But I do want to hear what happened back then."
<Steph> "He didn't sound like he needed rescuing anyway," replies Stephanie, carelessly. "I'm sure he was a real keeper."
<El-Cideon> "Okay," Crier says, adding with a sing-song, "he probably wouldn't want to leave anyway~ It's a cushy job he's got, for a mortal. He's in the exchequer's office. Basically it's his job to make sure all these Blood War companies get paid. You know, before they get chewed up on the front lines. Devils prefer to trade in souls, but Mammon's big on gold and mortal mercs only want cash so there's a lot of it moving through Minauros. Probably you're gonna have to grease some palms to get through the bureaucracy."
<Franceska> "Has he transcended the need for sleep? I just thought we might catch him at his home after hours."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, we could stalk him home if you want," Crier agrees.
<Steph> "Though it is passing up a chance to spend all that money you were hoarding."
<Franceska> "I think Rosemund would disapprove making devil bureaucrats richer, and besides, just because it is not a secret doesn't mean I want to talk to him around all those other people."
<Steph> "Speaking of, do you know if he lives alone?"
<El-Cideon> "Yeah, that's a point," Crier agrees. "If people know you're family, that's something they can use against him, or you. Nobody's position in Hell is ever as stable as they want it to be, there's always someone after your job, right? And demotion here is, wow, you think it's bad losing your job in a mortal town?" She shakes her head. "Hey, we don't know that much. I mean, we weren't investigating *him*, right? That wasn't the job. It was just a thing that turned up while we were here."
<Franceska> "So it was. I could just approach him under a suitable disguise?"
<El-Cideon> "If you like," she says, adding casually, "I mean, after so many years, he probably wouldn't recognize you anyway~"
* Franceska frowns. "Even with my distinctive hair?"
<Steph> "Distinctive hair?" Stephanie jerks her finger towards the chick with water for hair. "That's nothing. Look at her!"
<Franceska> "It's a human thing, you wouldn't understand," she says dismissively.
<El-Cideon> "I guess we'll find out?" she says as Masuko turns up, back from his meeting. "Hey boss, we're steppin' out!" she says enthusiastically.
<El-Cideon> Masuko dutifully frowns. "For what purpose?" he asks the group in general, obviously hoping someone saner will speak up.
<Franceska> "I intend to find out where my father lives and whether he lives alone, and then find a pretext to approach him at home."
<Steph> "To find out if he recognizes her after all these years. Good times."
<El-Cideon> "I would prefer that we keep safely to the temple until an opportunity to meet our target presents itself," Masuko says. "I do not suppose there is any dissuading you?"
<Julia> "Well, it's not like we want to make multiple trips to hell," Julia says. "Best try to knock it all out in one visit."
<Franceska> "If things go as planned, it would be difficult for me to return," Franceska adds.
<El-Cideon> "Efficiency," Masuko acknowledges with a faint suggestion of a smile. "What is your avenue of approach? Shall we pursue him after his departure from work, or attempt to gain entry to his home?"
<Franceska> "I would presume that due to his job, being approached for bribes during off hours is commonplace?"
<El-Cideon> "Likely so," Masuko admits. "Very well. I will inquire as to his residence. Have something to eat and we will depart after supper. For the purpose of safety, I will have to accompany you."
<El-Cideon> Dinner fare at the temple is the definition of "plain but nourishing," and after this unexciting repast Masuko leads the way down and out into the street. Sturdily reinforced umbrellas are handed around, as a bitter storm is in progress outside. Hailstones bounce about, slicking the worn paving stones with a film of muck where they lie to melt and providing a background cacophony of rattling to accompany the constant clatter of the chains that support the city. Even devils seem scarce on the streets in this weather. You pass more than one great metal structure on your path that positively radiates with a dissonant harmony of screams, but your destination mercifully proves to be quite past the more industrial sectors of the city. Derek Bailey's estate is a gothic mansion that could respectably serve a minor noble back home. Two bearded devils are standing on guard at the front door, safely shielded under a canopy.
<Steph> "Oh, look. It's worse than you-know-where after all," mutters Stephanie, sizing up the bearded devils and thinking that the beards would look good on her wall, if she had a wall on which to put beards.
<El-Cideon> "Can you imagine walking past that noise every day to work?" Rosemund wonders, seeming in agreement with Stephanie's estimate.
<Julia> Julia both employs an umbrella and walks under Bedford's head for increased shelter. Though she wishes she had Battersby, since bones don't provide nearly as much shelter. "Do you want us to wait outside?" she asks Franceska.
<Franceska> "No," she responds. "Masuko is quite right. Having us out on the streets beyond the bare necessity is a bad idea."
<El-Cideon> "We can serve as her entourage," Masuko suggests. "It is no unusual thing for a person of distinction to travel with numbers of attendants. Indeed, it is quite expected."
<Franceska> And with that decided, Franceska approaches the gate.
<Julia> "Well, I'll leave Bedford outside at least," Julia says, ordering the skeletal nightmare to ignore anything except assaults on his person, and to respond with lethal force to that. He probably wouldn't fit inside the mansion anyway.
<El-Cideon> The guards dutifully cross their glaives to bar the way. "Name and business!" one of them barks.
<Franceska> "Franceska Durant," she sneers back. "My business is between myself and the master of the house. Inform him of my presence at once."
<El-Cideon> "The name is not known to us," he replies with equal self-assurance. "Nor were we told to anticipate visitors."
<Franceska> "I am not an official visitor. My name will continue to be unknown to you," Franceska instructs the bearded devil. "There are, however, worse things than guard duty in this punishing rain if I am delayed here much longer."
<El-Cideon> OOC: intimidate?
<Franceska> roll 1d20+24 I can be surprisingly scary, also Apotheosis
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+24 I can be surprisingly scary, also Apotheosis and gets 33."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+6 pretty academic
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+6 pretty academic and gets 16."12 [1d20=10]
<El-Cideon> "Oh of course, how could we forget this esteemed visitor," one of them says, rapping sharply on the door. He mutters under his breath to his companion in infernal: "We'll just say later she bribed the imp, right?" The door shortly opens--there is a human maid inside, pretty, blonde, but with age and the stress of her surroundings starting to tell on her physically. "A Franceska Durant to see the master," the guard explains to her. After a long silence, she nods to you. "Follow me, please," she says, standing aside to allow entry to a sumptuously appointed (if dark and grim in color scheme) entry hall .
* Franceska strides inside with the assurance of someone meant to be there, just short of the arrogance to offend the host.
<Steph> Stephanie seeks out valuables, ripe for the picking!
<Julia> Julia smiles at the two nice guards before passing in after Franceska. "Don't mind the skeleton, please."
<El-Cideon> There's certainly plenty of gold tableware openly on display to offset the dark wood interior. The master of the house also seems to favor paintings of martial themes, and here and there can be repeatedly discerned a dogheaded insignia. Suggestive female statuary is the only thing to at all soften up the otherwise severe demeanor of the place. "The master is upstairs," the maid says stiffly. "Are *all* of you seeking an audience?" she wonders dubiously.
<Steph> "You could say we are the audience!" replies Stephanie, with an outrageous grin.
<Franceska> "My entourage can be sent away if the master of the house does not find it amusing," Franceska says, gesturing for the maid to lead her upstairs.
<El-Cideon> She narrows her eyes on Stephanie. "We shall see first whether he desires the crowd," she concludes, authoritatively directing Franceska exclusively upstairs for the time being. She snaps her fingers, and an imp clad in an old-fashioned butler's uniform appears with a burst of brimstone. "Raxis, see our guests to the sitting room and provide suitable refreshment." The imp fawningly directs the rest of the group to a modest library while the maid takes Franceska away.
<Franceska> "That idiot is more trouble than she's worth," Franceska mutters while on the stairs.
<Julia> Julia gives Franceska an 'I'm sorry?' expression before being led away.
<Steph> Stephanie isn't drinking anything served to her in a devil's mansion, but she does take an interest in the books.
<El-Cideon> Franceska is led to an office upstairs. "It's hardly my place to judge milady's company," the maid says, sounding as though she rather wishes it was. She knocks on the door, and after acknowledgment opens it. Derek Bailey is within, working at ledgers. "A Franceska Durant to see you, sir," the maid says, and at this he glances up sharply. He looks badly worn, very fit for a man of middle age but with considerable mileage apparent on his expression. He maintains a neat beard and mustache, stark white, but whether this is from age or nature is now difficult to tell. "See her in," he says in tones that imply exclusivity. The maid nods and closes the door behind Franceska. Derek looks you over for a long moment and then asks simply, "Why are you here?"
<Franceska> "To ask you that very question," she responds. "Followed by trying to find out whether what little I heard of Mother is true."
<El-Cideon> Stephanie sees a large percentage of the books are tomes on warfare, but perhaps an equal proportion concern themselves with economics. There's a smattering of historical texts mixed in as well. Masuko casts a brief spell over a selection of wine brought by the fiendish servant, quite disregarding the imp's presence, and confirms, "It's safe to drink if you have any interest."
<El-Cideon> Derek closes his book and stands up. "What have you heard?" he asks first.
<Steph> Stephanie shakes her head a little. "I wanna stay sharp today," she replies, looking over the historical texts for anything on the city they are currently in.
<Julia> "Good point," Julia says, retracting her hand that had been reaching for a glass.
<Franceska> "That an elf killed her. I presumed this was why she didn't bring me with you, and have been wondering why you hadn't, either. Of course, now that I have a chance to find out straight from the source, I simply had to make use of it."
<El-Cideon> The history books principally concern Solata, actually, although none of them look very recent.
<Steph> Stephanie slips them back. The imp's presence dissuades her from chatting overmuch to those around her, and she ends up staring at the nearby artwork.
<El-Cideon> "There was a degree of confusion when the city fell," Derek says without much in the way of intonation. "We were not at home. We came for you, but were prevented by the mob. It was why she died." He gives you a long, careful look. "You are here by chance? You have not made it your purpose to seek me out?" His tone and expression are determinedly neutral throughout.
<Franceska> "I'm not a child," Franceska responds. "By the time I could manage the magic and connections to do so safely, I was old enough to wonder why you haven't reached out yourself in all that time. What's done is done, however unfortunate. Now, all I am interested in is whether you are satisfied with your life here, and... actually, death doesn't seem as final to someone with my skillset. Were
<Franceska> things sufficiently different back then that Mother couldn't be brought back?"
<El-Cideon> Stephanie sees a victorious scene of battle that could have come right from home, although the banners depicted as triumphant here are not much in accord with the eventual outcome of the war. The maid reappears downstairs and dismisses the fretting little imp. "The master prefers a private audience with his guest," she explains. "I am sure that you understand."
<Julia> "Oh it's fine," Julia reassures her. "So long as we don't hear any screaming."
<Steph> "Outside the usual."
<El-Cideon> "As I said, there was much confusion," Derek replies. "By the time we had retreated here, I knew parties with open offers to return her to us. But no offers that I trusted. None that would not come without certain...guarantees. From her if not from me. I determined it better for her to rest given the circumstances. Your first question is a more complicated one." He looks out the window, to where hailstones batter a crowd of wailing lemures herded at spearpoint by a shouting devil. "Ours is a materially comfortable life," he says at length, asking, "Would you find this satisfactory?"
<El-Cideon> The maid shakes her head. "We seek to avoid that manner of undignified behavior in this house," she insists.
<Steph> "That's super." Stephanie peers at the maid. "You must have a lot of pride to work in a place of such refinement, and the competence to back it up. What's your name?"
<Julia> "Then everything should be fine, then," Julia says agreeably.
<Franceska> "No. But I wouldn't force my beliefs on you. I happen to be quite capable, so if you wish to leave I can arrange for that, discreetly. Otherwise, I would wish you a good life and leave without anyone being the wiser about our relationship."
<El-Cideon> "Do you think that it would be that simple?" Derek asks, almost in a conversational tone.
<El-Cideon> The maid frowns tightly, as though perceiving herself to be mocked in some way. "Vanessa," she answers simply.
<Franceska> "Everything runs on status and power. Therefore, it logically follows that if you tell me what you know of your situation and the strings attached to you, I will proceed to research the best solution to this situation."
<Steph> "Vanessa. How did you come to work here?" asks Stephanie, conversationally. "If you don't mind me asking. I travel through all the planes, but I wouldn't make my home in them, so I'm fascinated by ordinary people- you know, primes like myself- living in unusual locales."
<El-Cideon> "I mean no disrespect to your intent or abilities," Derek says carefully. "I should never have expected that you would come to me at all, much less with an interest in...improving my situation?" he guesses. "But I think that this offer comes far, far too late. Do you think that you can untangle thirty years of contracts, favors, and obligations? Do you think that this is as simple a thing as relocation?"
<El-Cideon> "Refugees aren't often blessed with a wealth of options, ma'am," Vanessa says.
<Franceska> "I'm a lawyer."
<El-Cideon> Derek actually chuckles, if without much mirth. "And no doubt a prosperous one," he says with a nod to the crown, "and a bold woman of means to come so far. But what would you have of me? Would you bring me back home? For what purpose?"
<Steph> "I suppose they're not. I never guessed Baator was a place one goes seeking asylum, but- choices, yes, a lot of people don't really have choices," she reflects, leaning back in the couch.
<Franceska> "Any plane would do, really. I have contacts spread out across them, enough wealth to grease the wheels of justice and enough power to make it not worth their while for most pursuers to keep their interest in my affairs. Devils can be quite sensible about cost-effective matters. As for why, I have no concrete reason, I suppose. It just seems like the proper thing to do."
<El-Cideon> "You go wherever you believe you have friends," Vanessa concludes, not really looking at anyone in particular as she speaks.
<El-Cideon> "It matters little where you take me in life," Derek says with a determined sort of shrug. "I will be back in the end." He gives you a speculative look. "I trust you understand the risks you took in coming here, just for 'the proper thing to do?' This matter of principle is of such importance to you?"
<Steph> Stephanie nods absently. "And now?" she asks, as curious as before. "Are you satisfied?"
<El-Cideon> "Do you interrogate your hosts in this manner every place you go?" Vanessa asks with a peevish air and somewhat less professional resolve.
<Franceska> "This is your fault, of course," Franceska states. "Since I was left on my own, Rosemund's aunt raised me and this entire thing is really because Rosemund had to go off travel across the planes and I simply had to tag along and keep her safe. I'm sure that if she heard she would make a huge deal out of helping you, so I might as well save us all some time."
<Steph> "Ah, sorry, sorry. Most people want to tell their story! And when I'm only going to get one chance at someone who interests me, I just go ahead and take it," replies Stephanie. "Should I compensate you for the trouble? I understand you're on the clock."
<El-Cideon> "You asked earlier why I never sought you out," Derek says. "Do you really think that I did not?"
<Franceska> "I didn't want to jump to conclusions."
<El-Cideon> "I'm 'of interest to you?'" Vanessa asks skeptically. "My duties don't usually extend to answering personal questions," she points out, admitting, "but I haven't anywhere else to be while the master holds audience."
<Steph> "Mmm, well... how can I put it? Let's look out a window," Stephanie suggests, bouncing to her feet. "Have you got any big ones around?"
<El-Cideon> "Solata was long barred to me after our defeat," Derek explains. "The crown was very thorough in expunging any remaining collaborators. There were few proper agents I could use to reach you and I was no one of great consequence upon our retreat." His voice adopts a grim tone as he proceeds, almost suggestive of despair by the end. "Merely one failure among many. To retrieve you immediately would have been an operation beyond my means. I had to work hard to curry favor. I had to collect secrets. I had to use them against my friends. I had to ensure I was the only one left standing, or else they would have done so. All in order to convince our noble superiors that there was any value remaining in staging an operation on ground that had so recently and forcibly expelled us. And once I had actually done so and had the means to retrieve you, I was left with little more than the realization that the best place for you to be was as far from me as possible." He sighs. "But here you are anyway."
<El-Cideon> Vanessa nods. "Yes ma'am," she says, sounding rather like she wishes they didn't. She strides across the room and pulls back a curtain. The view outside is no nicer than it was when you were out there.
* Franceska nods to herself. "Alright. I understand. I'll be getting you out after all, then."
<El-Cideon> Derek shakes his head. "Franceska, do not get involved," he insists. "You do not understand the risks. Even to acknowledge any connection between us is to provide opportunity for exploitation. Go back home and forget you were ever here!"
<Franceska> "I understand them pretty well," she responds. "Now, I need to know if there is anyone you particularly care for around here, and whether you have either the ability or the power to leave on your own. If you would need a pretext, one could be manufactured. That would give me plenty of time to work on the longterm issue."
<El-Cideon> "Vanessa is--" he starts, before shaking his head. "No, I see you still don't understand. My soul is no longer my own. You realize that it is of no consequence where I run?"
<Franceska> "Living here for too long has limited your perception, I'm sorry to say. If this is a metaphysical matter then I have contacts to help with that. If, however, this is a literal deal with an orb somewhere here ready to receive your soul upon death, all I need to do is make them a better offer for it."
<El-Cideon> "And you should offer them what, your own?" he asks. "That will absolutely be their intent."
<Franceska> "They will open bartering with that, I will offer them something else they want and we'll take it from there. Should negotiations break down, I will hire mercenaries to break the orb out for me and use all the wealth I don't really need as leverage."
<El-Cideon> "Your mother was always very stubborn," he says at length. "There is no talking you out of this foolishness, is there?"
<Franceska> "Consider it a test run if you must. If your fate is sealed and I accept it, I may well accept my own. Do you want that, or would you prefer I changed it?"
<El-Cideon> Derek sits down heavily on his desk chair. "In truth, I have rather lost track of who even owns it. Such things are passed around as common currency here."
<Franceska> "You see? Getting my hands upon it might well be easier than you think. I just need some means to track it down, and then to arrange for a devil to make the purchase."
* Franceska frowns. "Of course, my time table for achieving that will be drastically limited if you happen to remain here for the duration. Can you actually leave?"
<El-Cideon> "Physically? If given the means," he admits. "But those to whom I owe obligations would seek me out. I am useful enough for them to tolerate my existence, and that is the only reason I remain living. If I should abandon my position and defect, well, examples must be made."
<Franceska> "Ah yes. Means. Is your house warded against any sort of dimensional travel?"
<El-Cideon> He nods. "One can hardly have visitors popping in unannounced," he says with a wan smile.
<El-Cideon> ~