084: And it's raining all over the world

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> After a dreary flight back over the miserable swamps of Minauros, even the sparse confines of the temple are something of a comfort. "Hey you guys," Crier says with a friendly wave on your return. "Find what you were looking for?"
<@Franceska> "As a matter of fact, yes."
<El-Cideon> "That's great," she enthuses. "So, soul get or what?" Masuko frowns at his confederate's childish humor. "I don't suppose there was any news about our mission while we were away?" he chides her. She waves this away dismissively. "Oh sure, one of the bigwigs here is throwing a gala to celebrate some big victory on another world. I'm sure Hill 45 or whatever it is'll be back in demon hands next week, but for now it's an excuse to brag to all his social inferiors."
<@Franceska> "This must be the most honest thing I've heard since coming here to Hell, and for that, I thank you," Franceska tells Crier. "Also, allow me to correct myself. We found out who has the soul, but haven't secured it yet."
<El-Cideon> "You can always count on me for unwelcome honesty," Crier confesses. She hands Masuko a handwritten note, which he reads before nodding curtly. "We have three days yet," he summarizes, ignoring Franceska. "I'd suggest your preparations include dressing expensively, if you haven't already the means at hand." He shares the obligatory frown for Crier's tattered robes, but she only seems buoyed by his disapproval.
<Julia> "Are there any boutiques in hell?" Julia asks curiously but with definite interest.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, sure," Crier says. "Devils haven't got any modesty at all, but by dressing all flash you can say to your rivals, 'I can afford to wear this and you can't.'"
<@Franceska> "I have a magical animated veil of flame that hides little and looks very flashy," Franceska tells Crier. "Would you like to borrow it?"
<El-Cideon> "That sounds just scandalous," she says. "I could give it a try."
<El-Cideon> "So," she prompts after that, "is there anything you need to do about tracking down this soul of yours? Things might get messy once the mission's underway. You might not have another chance!"
<@Franceska> "It would be perfect if we could use two days to find out all we could about the devil holding onto it and what he prefers, as well as arranged a meeting with him. I could create a plan to deal with him and then improvise on the spot should adjustments need to be made."
<El-Cideon> "Sure. You got a name for whichever wannabe overlord's got it? Have any idea where it is? I'm pretty good at finding things that don't want to be found if that helps any."
<@Franceska> "Falk Morazul, a gelugon residing in Jangling Hiter. I'm afraid that's all I have."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, he's a local boy! Masuko can just ask his boss what's what, right?" Masuko, frowning as he always does at the persistent pursuit of extracurriculars not relevant to mission success, acknowledges this point with a nod. After a brief disappearance to confer with the elder priest on site, he shares the following: "Your target is deeply invested in the industrial rehabilitation of souls, but this should hardly come as any surprise for anyone of importance on Minauros. I am told that he takes a very keen interest in the practice itself and that his kytons have learned to dread his personal inspections. He maintains an expansive personal residence in the Fiends' quarter of the city, which he shares with two children of mortal mothers. An odd touch, that. Devils rarely bother with offspring. They oft prove treacherous."
<@Franceska> "Perhaps he took a keen interest in their souls as well?"
<El-Cideon> Masuko expresses his skepticism with a snort. "I suppose they may have proven useful subordinates or some such practical relation."
<@Franceska> "Frankly, this is a problem. I neither have souls nor an intention of collecting them. What precedents are there for buying a soul with other goods?"
<Steph> "Wait, wait. I have this great, amazing idea. How does inheritance law work in Baator?"
<El-Cideon> "If all that you have to offer is gold, then it will be accepted, though such a transaction would mark you as one of lesser status. If you are comfortable with that and the inevitable bevy of slights that will come with it, it may suffice in sufficient quantity." Crier pipes up to answer Stephanie's question. "Well, everybody's supposed to respect the law, but the only thing the law's based on is strength anyway. So basically if everybody in the family but one died, there'd be no one left to challenge them getting everything, right? You can see why they don't usually have kids."
<Steph> "Oh. Gold works? Alright then. What's a sufficient quantity, anyway?"
<@Franceska> "Being marked as a lesser status wouldn't matter if I will never return here," Franceska reasons, before waiting on the answer to Stephanie's question.
<Julia> "What sort of payment would mark as as higher status? More souls? A powerful undead minion?" Julia asks, since having higher status could help with the whole Jill Cook thing.
<El-Cideon> "Souls are the more prestigious currency, though I suppose some devils with unusual interests would accept unusual or rare goods in trade as well," Masuko says, offering only a shrug for Stephanie. "Otherwise value depends rather on the soul and its prospects. I could not precisely guess in the case of Franceska's father."
<Steph> "Huh. Figures." Stephanie stretches her shoulders a little. "I guess we'll have to see what sort of shit this guy wants. And if it's too pricey, see what his kids want." She clucks her tongue. "It's such a hassle that we need to transfer ownership formally! Geez, if they're going to treat souls like things, can't they go all the way?"
<@Franceska> "It truly is a hassle. There should be a well-defined rate for souls versus other things."
<Steph> Stephanie frowns. "No, there shouldn't. I just want to be able to steal them back from devils."
<El-Cideon> "But just think what a mess everything would be if anybody could steal somebody else's soul like hotel towels or something," Crier muses speculatively.
<@Franceska> "It would be rather insidious. Perhaps some demon is working on making that happen?"
<Julia> "I don't even know how devils 'own' souls," Julia says. "There's a spell that can take someone's soul, and I understand that, but the way they just float around the afterlife while having their ownership fundamentally linked to various devils confuses me."
<El-Cideon> Masuko clears his throat to get the discussion back on track. "I must point out that Morazul's domain is established well inside the Fiends' quarter of Jangling Hiter, and that unescorted mortals therein are broadly considered acceptable prey for whatever fiend should find them. I would suggest that this diversion does not significantly facilitate the success of our mission here."
<Steph> "Sure it does. It keeps our morale up."
<@Franceska> "How likely would you be to come across an erinyes there?"
<El-Cideon> He shrugs. "They're hardly a rare sight. But the one benefit of Minauros's frequent hailstorms is that even the fiends stay off the streets as much as possible. You could be fortunate enough not to encounter anyone inconvenient to you." He sounds disinclined to trust anything greatly to fortune.
<@Franceska> "Then how about I act the part of one? If you supply me with enough information to pretend to be from another part of Hell, it might well work."
<Julia> "I could... theoretically at least, obtain a devil body that would be entirely authentic even to true seeing," Julia says hesitantly.
<El-Cideon> "I hope that you can be very convincing," Masuko says skeptically. "What did you have in mind?"
<Steph> "Can we fly over there above the cloud line?"
<@Franceska> "Arrive disguised as an erinyes set on behalf of an interested party with a hundred thousans in platinum and rare gems, and try to purchase the soul. Anyone without true seeing should be fooled, and thus leave us alone."
<Julia> "It involves putting my soul into a devil's body and forcing its own into a prepared container," Julia says. "I tried it when we fought the Queen remember, but I'd be worried about leaving my real body vulnerable. Though I suppose we could just have Bedford carry it so it's close at hand."
<Steph> "If only she had a bigger bag of holding!"
<El-Cideon> "Would you waylay some stray fiend on the street for this purpose?" Masuko asks Julia, sounding amused by the idea. Crier chimes in to answer Franceska. "Oh, a hundred thousand'll probably interest anybody, even here. You guys want some help? It's so boring sitting around this temple! I need to cause some trouble."
<Steph> "Sure, why not? What's your special power?"
<@Franceska> "Why not? And you could try that veil on." She shrugs. "Where it comes to the money I would prefer to spend only half that, but such is my budget. If that fails to persuade him, perhaps one of his children would take the deal in his stead."
<Julia> "I'd probably summon one so it can be done in controlled circumstances," Julia says. "If it needs to be done, anyway."
<@Franceska> "It can't hurt."
<Steph> "Can't it?"
<El-Cideon> "Aggravation," Masuko mutters under his breath. Crier answers for herself: "Well, I can patch up the rest of the group when they get themselves cut up. It's usually divination or transportation when we're not in a fight, though."
<Julia> "Well I could end up pulling a devil away from a vitally important lookout position and result in the hordes of the Abyss over-running Avernus?"
<@Franceska> "And if anything happens, you can leave the body and have that devil take the blame for everything?"
<Steph> "Surely summoning a devil and inhabiting its body is a black mark in a big book somewhere," replies Stephanie, skeptically. "I know you're running on the live-forever plan, but what's the fallback if that doesn't work out?"
<Julia> "Alright, I'll start making preparations now. Is there a quiet room I could use?" Julia asks Masuko.
<El-Cideon> "Any meditation chamber should be adequate for this purpose, I think," he says, directing Julia to a cold stone room decorated with mosaics of warrior priests smiting the weak and foolish.
<@Franceska> "I will need some time on my own as well to try this for the first time," Franceska voices. Not to mention all the time spent redressing herself, if this works how she thinks it will.
<Julia> Julia then spends ten minutes preparing a calling diagram which should restrain whatever fiend she summons.
<Julia> roll 1d20+19 spellcraft DC 20
<Rei-chan> 6,0Julia rolled :6,0 1d20+19 1,0spellcraft DC 20 --> 6,0[ 1d20=4 ]4,0{23}
<Julia> That done she uses her wands of dimensional anchor and magic circle against evil to properly imbue it with the necessary defences.
<Julia> roll 1d20+23 umd dc 20 use wand of magic circle
<Rei-chan> 6,0Julia rolled :6,0 1d20+23 1,0umd dc 20 use wand of magic circle --> 6,0[ 1d20=11 ]4,0{34}
<Julia> roll 1d20+23 umd dc 20 use wand of dimension anchor
<Rei-chan> 6,0Julia rolled :6,0 1d20+23 1,0umd dc 20 use wand of dimension anchor --> 6,0[ 1d20=11 ]4,0{34}
<Julia> And with that all done she spends a further ten minutes calling on a random female erinyes. She'd rather not add gender-swapping into the mix, which rules out most other devils.
<Julia> OOC: DC 23 will negates summon
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10 will
<Rei-chan> 6,0El-Cideon rolled :6,0 1d20+10 1,0will --> 6,0[ 1d20=11 ]4,0{21}
<El-Cideon> An erinyes soon apparates within the circle. Coldly handsome in a way rather typical for the species, pale with red hair cropped martially short. She's dressed like the more prosperous variety of office worker and suppresses her irritation at being drawn away from whatever business previously occupied her to put on the usual infernal air of acquisitiveness. "I greet you, mortal summoner," she dispenses with the pleasantries. "What may we do for one another?"
<Julia> "I'm interested in your body," Julia says with a big smile, just to see what reaction it gets before she laughs it off, "No no, not like that. I need to authentically disguise myself as a devil for an amusing scheme, which would involve me using your body as my own for a period of no more than fifteen hours. In exchange I'm willing to pay you with a minor magical item that negates the need
<Julia> to eat and sleep in mortals. You could probably get someone's soul for that. Or sell it, which works out to about 166 gold per hour. Interested?"
<El-Cideon> She inclines her chin in consideration. "I'll not have my body misused in any way while it's outside of my possession," she insists. "I should have it returned to me as it now stands. You will guarantee some additional fee or service to compensate for any blemish that I might find upon my return."
<Julia> "That's acceptable," Julia agrees with those terms, since she'll be able to heal up any injuries in the unlikely event in which they are suffered. "If you find your body damaged or impaired in any fashion I'll compensate you with an additional five thousand gold. If our negotiations are concluded, I'll ask you to hold still and restrain your natural defences while I perform the exchange."
<Julia> And then after a few words of magical gibberish Julia drops dead! Or seems to at least. Her spirit easily identifies the erinyes as the only creature in the room, so there's no chance of missing her when she attempts to force its soul into her amethyst spell focus while she takes its place.
<Julia> OOC: DC 25 will if she changes her mind
<El-Cideon> Julia soon finds herself occupying without resistance the svelte form of an infernal bureaucrat. It shouldn't feel too different form her normal self, apart from the addition of wings.
<Julia> With her soul now in the devil's body she easily steps over the circle that was meant to contain it, lifting up her own lifeless body. And wow, she never knew she was so light! It takes no more effort than carrying a bag of groceries... a small one at that! Carrying herself in a bridal carry she heads back out to rejoin the others.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund gasps in shock. "Julia?!" she exclaims. "That had better be Julia in there. Say something that only Julia could know!"
<Steph> Stephanie eyes the erinyes with the hungry look normally reserved for opponents. "Like how we met?" she remarks, snapping her fingers.
<Julia> "Er, I have an undead wyvern called Battersby?" she offers, smiling disarmingly. "Oh, I met you at Rosemund's church, Stephanie. When she asked us all to regain the sword that had been stolen. Or was it a hammer? I'm sorry I can never remember, but that should be a mark of authenticity all by itself."
<Steph> "That'll do. Hurray. Now the entire team looks like fiendspawn. We should start a band."
<@Franceska> "A good choice," Franceska compliments Julia, arriving as another erinyes, a short-haired brunette dressed in her most resplendent robes and with apotheosis occupying a place of honor upon her head. "Is anyone else going to become a devil, or are we good to go?"
<El-Cideon> "Okay," Rosemund admits with relief, relaxing visibly. "But I would suggest that you should not make a habit of walking around in a devil's body! Who knows what could happen, you might inherit unwholesome desires or something!"
<Steph> "What, more unwholesome than the desire to find strong corpses? That will be exciting to see."
<Julia> "I don't know, this body's really strong!" Julia says approvingly, hefting up her own body and nearly tossing it out of her hands by mistake. "I wonder if I should start exercising more..."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund flexes her wings. Crier appears to realize she's the only one in today's traveling group not bearing obviously fiendish physical traits. "Gee, I look like the odd girl out now. I guess if someone asks what I'm doing with you, I'm just somebody's slave," she sing-songs cheerfully.
<Julia> "Do you have any blankets or curtains or something? I'll wrap myself up and put myself in Bedford's rib cage. Since if I'm too far away when the spell ends or this body gets broken I'll die for real, and no one wants that."
<Steph> "I've got blankets," affirms Stephanie, quickly producing some! "Shall we go?"
<El-Cideon> "You can just take 'em from one of the beds here," Crier suggests. "I'm sure the temple can afford more!"
<Julia> Taking Stephanie's rather than stealing from the evil temple, Julia rolls herself up and then makes her way down to nestle her body inside Bedford's rib cage, tying off ends of the blanket onto ribs so she's less likely to fall off. And that's quite satisfying too since these hands are so nimble!
<El-Cideon> Masuko duly ignores Crier's obvious attempt at provocation and says to Franceska, "Your destination is the largest mansion on the Street of the Singing Scourge. It's well within the district and I would suggest a straight course there with no deviation, lest someone unravel your disguise."
* @Franceska nods curtly.
<El-Cideon> An appallingly cold sleet assaults the city streets as you step outside. Crier seems not to mind the weather, eschewing cover from the miserable downpour even when it turns to battering hail. You pass several gangs of fiends en route to your target--bearded devils leading herds of wretched souls into factories, harried imps ferrying documents from place to place, chain devils haggling over exquisite torture implements--but none take undue interest in your group even well into the Fiends' quarter. The houses here loom above bystanders with obviously impressive intent, brutally resplendent in their scale. Morazul's mansion is an unsightly conglomeration of obsidian spires perched behind a jagged iron fence. A covered walkway leads to the front door. Immediately beyond the iron gate, safely under shelter, stands a receptionist of sorts for guests: what might once have been a lively elven woman, now a zombie dressed in a mortal maid's uniform.
<Steph> "I gotta kill something soon," mutters Stephanie, twitching at every fresh obscenity around her.
<Julia> This body isn't even bothered by the cold! It really just makes Julia long for the day she becomes a lich even more. "We're here to see the master of the house," she speaks to the zombie on seeing it, wondering if it's got any semblance of intelligence itself.
* @Franceska lets Julia deal with the undead, still trying to get used to wearing a devil's skin.
<El-Cideon> The zombie turns right around and walks into the house. without saying a word. Shortly thereafter, the door opens and a man strides out to greet you: his lineage is obviously half fiendish, as instead of hair his scalp bristles with a tangled array of horns; he's very pale, with sharp features and ears and teeth, and inferring his mortal heritage is a little difficult. He's dressed like an aristocratic courtier, darkly colorful with all the required flourishes. He looks over the lot of you before ultimately addressing the erinyes duo. "We anticipated no guests this day," he says. "Announce yourselves and your intentions."
<Julia> Julia steps back and defers to Franceska here, since this is her show.
<@Franceska> "My name is Thalia," Franceska responds, and then gestures at Julia. "And this is Nyssa. We bring a business proposition for the master of the house from our own employer, nothing more, nothing less."
<El-Cideon> "And the nature of this business proposition and your employer would be...?" he prompts.
<@Franceska> "Our employer would wish to purchase something the master of the house possesses. She would prefer to remain anonymous, however, hence our presence in her stead."
<El-Cideon> OOC: roll Diplomacy?
<@Franceska> roll 1d20+26
<Rei-chan> 6,0Franceska rolled :6,0 1d20+26 --> 6,0[ 1d20=15 ]4,0{41}
<El-Cideon> "I suppose it could do no harm to relay the offer," he decides at last. He unlocks the gate, ushers you inside, and closes it again after you, then strides towards the house. As you walk, Crier whispers, "Anyone got a spell for drying out clothes real quick? I don't mind, it's just they might get mad at me dripping all over their floor."
<Julia> Julia, or rather Nyssa shakes her head minutely. It's probably accepted given the weather.
* @Franceska is sadly lacking in such herself.
<Steph> Stephanie looks about ready to pounce on the figure striding away from them. Her eyes are locked onto his back and don't shift at all as she follows.
<El-Cideon> Crier shrugs. "Well, I'll just have to keep being miserable," she says without much obvious dismay. Your guide strides to the front door, heaves it open, and leads you inside. The interior of the mansion is in stark contrast to the relatively modest and human aspect of Derek's: floors of black marble echo every bootstep off of cavernous ceilings, bright purple torches lend an unearthly glow to everything, and frescoes and sculptures of devilish triumph adorn every stray surface. There is a large staircase immediately before the entryway, and beyond that to the left a walkway leading along what looks like a covered garden. Terrible screams echo in from the garden--a man's voice, raised in unspeakable torment--but neither your guide nor the elven zombie waiting just within appear disturbed by this. The fiendish man pauses within to take a scrap of paper from the maid's pocket and scribble something on it. Then he takes a stiletto and uses it to attach the note to her forehead. "Go find father," he instructs her.
<El-Cideon> The maid turns and wordlessly trundles upstairs.
* @Franceska puts the torment of others out of her mind, biding her time.
<Julia> Why not just have a lanyard around her neck? Surely keeping your maid presentable is more important than whatever joy one gets from stabbing an uncaring zombie.
<El-Cideon> "I hope that you'll pardon the noise," the man says. "I realize it can make conversation difficult. I should prefer my sister play with her toys in private. One hopes this one will not last much longer. There wasn't much left of him." The wailing shortly cuts off in a wet gurgle. "Ah, there we are," your guide says in satisfaction. The maid shortly returns with a new note pinned to her forehead. After reading it, your greeter says, "Father deigns to entertain one representative of your group. The rest I shall see to some refreshment, if you like."
<@Franceska> 'We should probably be able to stay in touch,' Franceska thinks to Julia.
<Julia> 'I can't activate telepathy on my own, so you'll have to initiate contact,' Julia wordlessly replies.
<@Franceska> "In that case, let us not waste any more of your father's time," Franceska says, stepping forward.
<El-Cideon> "Take our guest to father," the man says to the maid. She turns and starts upstairs. The fiendish man then turns and bows slightly to the remaining guests. "I should introduce myself if we're to spend any time together. My name is Grigori."
<Steph> Stephane blinks, and loses her pointed glare. "Hello. My name is Steph," she replies, curtseying. "How do you do?"
<Julia> "Nyssa," Julia says, trying to match the same sort of tone this erinyes had when they were negotiating.
<El-Cideon> "Rosemund," Rosemund says, unable to feign any degree of enthusiasm or friendliness here. "Crier," you companion says cheerfully, still dripping all over the floor. Grigori looks over each of you in turn, with some particular interest in Rosemund, then turns to stride alongside the open garden. "This way, then. I'll see you to the parlor."
<Julia> Julia follows along, looking around the decor like she's inventorying it for later sale. It seems appropriately diabolical anyway.
<Steph> Stephanie is unable to not look into the garden. "Do you share your sister's hobbies?" she asks, keeping apace with their guide.
<El-Cideon> "I prefer to reserve the infliction of such exquisite cruelty only for when it has most been earned," Grigori says. "Else I find it loses its sting." He walks past open archways that look onto a square of tangled, gnarly vines surrounding a pool of sizzling acid. What might once have been a man, since relieved of all extremities, has been half lowered into the pool from a rope above and is now motionless. Sitting on a divan, looking rather bored, is a fiendish woman of quadrupedal build. Her skin is a glossy coal grey and her eyes more lively burning coals. A long dress covers her equine hindquarters and a tightly-laced corset her more human portion. "Oh, do we have visitors?" she says with some interest, rising with a faint clattering of hooves.
<Steph> It's quite difficult to estimate how dangerous these two would be, as opponents. "It is for us to wait until the main's business is concluded," replies Stephanie, curtseying again.
<Julia> "It should not take long," Julia says with some confidence in her fellow erinyes.
<El-Cideon> "In the nonce, let us have some wine," Grigori suggests. The maid has returned to his side. He scribbles an order on a note and attaches it to her. "Go to the kitchen," he informs her. "Oh, do sit down," the centaur-like woman insists, gesturing to a ring of chairs around the pool, shielded from the downpour outside by an awning. "I'm Valiska."
<Julia> "Nyssa," Julia says, taking a seat and crossing her legs, letting her wings hang off the sides. She really should try them out properly before this is all over.
<Steph> Stephanie's own cloven feet propel her silently to a chair, barely even touching the ground! "And I am Steph, a humble purveyor of trinkets and violence."
<El-Cideon> Valiska smiles and laughs cordially. "Ah, I see we share half a soul in that way," she enthuses to Stephanie. The maid returns with a tray of elegant fluted glasses; Grigori takes this and distributes them around the group.
<Julia> "You are most gracious," Julia accepts the glass and takes a sip, putting her new fiendish digestion to the test!
<El-Cideon> The wine has a sharp edge to it, and a tang of something you don't immediately recognize. Crier casts a subtle spell over hers while your hosts' attention is not upon her before drinking anything.
<Steph> "I live only to improve my craft. There's nothing sweeter than the moment of victory," agrees Stephanie. "We only get one lifetime in which that kind of effort and training is relevant, don't you think?" Heedless of poison thanks to her own constitution, Stephanie doesn't hesitate to take a sip.
<El-Cideon> "And from whence do our guests hail?" Grigori asks the group in general. "I should infer them unused to our local weather," he says, with a nod to Crier's state.
<El-Cideon> "Personally, I think the extended process of elucidating for the defeated exactly *how* defeated they truly are is the more satisfying," Valiska confesses to Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+13
<Rei-chan> 6,0El-Cideon rolled :6,0 1d20+13 --> 6,0[ 1d20=15 ]4,0{28}
<El-Cideon> Rosemund takes a sip of her wine, frowns slightly, gives it an odd look.
<Julia> "Phlegethos most recently, though I am mobile enough not to grow too attached to any particular locale," Julia says rather than be drawn in to too much detail.
<Steph> "It's a matter of approach; for me, a defeated foe is invisible, a challenge already exceeded. Who cares if they are stupid or shamed?" reflects Stephanie. "I only want to look back at them once I reach the pinnacle."
<El-Cideon> "Hah," Grigori says with a light laugh. "Yes, this mansion itself is often no more than temporary camp for the two of us between assignments. Father has us offworld for martial business quite often." "Some days I almost think he'd prefer we didn't come back," Valiska adds cheerfully before responding to Stephanie. "Well, I suppose that's your prerogative. I simply prefer to savor the moment."
<Steph> "Of course. We only get so many, so we must make the most of them in our own ways. So you're often soldiering offworld? Within the Blood War, or in other conflicts?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, we do our part against the demons when duty calls for it, but more oft it's wherever father's business requires the removal of obstacles," Grigori says. "I shouldn't speak of it in too much detail. It doesn't too to let on which mortal schemes are the ultimate handiwork of which great lord. But suffice it to say that I much prefer our work when it is against mortals. They're much more fun to play with. Demons, well, they're simpleminded creatures for the most part. No nuances to tease out at all!"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund sets her wineglass down on a side table and proceeds to ignore it hencemore. She observes Grigori with a concertedly humorless expression.
<Steph> "Of course. Your father is very gracious to grant you such rank and opportunity!"
<Julia> "Mmm, most wouldn't be so favoured," Julia agrees disinterestedly.
<El-Cideon> Valiska and Grigori share a look. "Well I'm sure he'd have more trouble carrying out his plans without us," Valiska insists with a commendable air of confidence.
<Julia> "A catspaw is always valuable... certainly I owe my current employment to it," Julia says, following Franceska's story. Taking another sip of her wine she adds, "Though the emotional entanglements family brings... well, many would consider it an avenue of attack."
<El-Cideon> "Some of them might be so worried about it that they keep their children away from home as much as possible~" Crier adds, playfully twirling her wineglass.
<El-Cideon> "It's certainly an unusual thing for a greater devil to maintain offspring, in part for that reason," Grigori answers noncommittally.
<Julia> "I suppose once properly cultivated, emotional entanglements can provide their own advantages," Julia muses ambivalently.
<Steph> "I'm sure mortal lords would likewise balk at doing so, if they too lived forever. My observations suggest it's always about passing on the seed and name, a limited sort of eternity."
<El-Cideon> "I certainly do my best at this latter pursuit," Grigori says with a laugh and flirtatious look at Rosemund that she does not return. "But here, even mortal successions have their bloody side, don't they? I believe I recall facilitating a few."
<Steph> "Convenient for the lucky mortals, no? All the rewards and none of the blame, I presume."
<El-Cideon> "Just so long as they remember to whom they are indebted for their position," he says proudly.
<Steph> "I imagine it's impossible to forget. The bonds of the soul cannot be denied."

~

<@El-Cideon> The maid leads Franceska silently up a stairway, alongside an ebony bannister decorated with the writhing forms of tormented mortals. Down a hallway, towards a door from beyond which echo sounds not unlike those of a blacksmith at work. The maid dutifully knocks on the door. From beyond, a halt to the hammering and a sonorous grunt: "Enter."
* Franceska does so, intending to introduce herself once she sees her host.
<@El-Cideon> Within is a workshop. The devices in progress here are obviously meant for the affliction of the most dreadful anguish upon their victims. Far from the mundane rack, these complicated machines look meant to crush, stretch and separate in most extravagant fashion. There is also a considerable tangle of rope haphazardly occupying one corner of the room. Centrally at work here is a gangly, insectlike devil twice the height of the average mortal and bristling faintly with icicles. He dismisses the maid with a simple, "See to our other guests," then addresses 'Thalia.' "State your business," the devil says simply.
<Franceska> Abandoning her plan for a polite introduction at this, Franceska shifts to a more businesslike demeanor. "My employer has caught wind that amongst your treasury of souls is one for a Derek Bailey, formerly of Solata. She is interested in bidding for it," she tells Falk Morazul.
<@El-Cideon> Falk abandons his work on a spiked press and stands to his full height, sliding smoothly into negotiation mood. "A promising enough soul. Very conniving in its day. I anticipate some use for it as an imp." He crosses his pincerlike arms before him. "I should know the identity of your employer." he insists.
<Franceska> "To one as sharp as yourself, it should be as clear as day without me mentioning it," Franceska responds politely, adjusting Apotheosis. "It is not time for her to come out into the open just yet, so she hopes to count upon your discretion."
<@El-Cideon> OOC: I suppose all of that's technically true. Diplo again? Eb, we'll need Rei.
* Rei-chan (~mars@cpc9-sgyl30-2-0-cust73.sgyl.cable.virginm.net) has joined #infernal
<Franceska> roll 1d20+26
<Rei-chan> 6,0Franceska rolled :6,0 1d20+26 --> 6,0[ 1d20=6 ]4,0{32}
<@El-Cideon> After some careful scrutiny, he seems to let Franceska's answer pass. "Of course," he says. "This is a long way to come for a single soul. I should know the nature of your employer's interest."
<Franceska> "The Solata campaign ended in failure, but there are some who have not accepted the result they ended up with. In the near future, there will be a reckoning against those who have wronged us," Franceska responds, letting a trace of her genuine anger slip through for a moment. "Reliable allies are worth a thousand mercenaries, especially when one plays the long game. After all, they have already
<Franceska> conformed to the right way of thinking and such a thing does not erode easily."
<@El-Cideon> OOC: bluff? +5 for general disguisery and attitude
<Franceska> roll 1d20+29
<Rei-chan> 6,0Franceska rolled :6,0 1d20+29 --> 6,0[ 1d20=19 ]4,0{48}
<@El-Cideon> "So it's to be a vendetta," Falk says. "I should counsel patience," he advises. "The mortals of this kingdom will no doubt relax their guard in time. I remain unconvinced that this time is now, but I'll not dictate your employer's business if she wishes to undertake such a risk on her own. Make your offer," he starts as an overture. "This soul remains one of much potential use. I should expect adequate compensation for denial of projected services post death of the mortal shell, services which would otherwise be bound to my cause."
* Franceska gives him a curt nod. "Our employer believes that the most discreet offer would be through material wealth. She fully realizes how insulting the concept might be, and so is prepared to offer well beyond this soul's worth to secure the transaction. The offer is of the equivalence of a hundred thousand in gold."
<@El-Cideon> Falk chuckles condescendingly. "I understand that your employer is perhaps not so well established as to be burgeoning with hardy souls ripe for trade in respectable transactions. How galling it must be to resort to mundane coinage in order to carry out one's most prestigious dealings! Well, I may indulge her paucity and provide this lustrous addition to her collection. Coin is not wholly without uses. I may buy a number of more meager men that collectively could, if properly cultivated, outshine this single one," he muses. "But I will have this money upfront. No promises or payment plans. You came prepared for this eventuality and have it all with you, I trust?"
<Franceska> "Yes," Franceska responds, although she makes no move to retrieve those riches. "It shall be provided upon the signing of the contract."
<@El-Cideon> Always prepared, Falk retrieves writing materials from a nearby cabinet and scrawls a quick contract: the transference of ownership of the soul of one Derek Bailey, at the price of one hundred thousand gold, to the signer of said document.
* Franceska goes over it to make sure no loopholes exist. Her borrowed erinyes eyes can do the same for any magical tampering. Should everything be in order, however, she sees no need to prolongue her stay here. Bringing over gold or even platinum would've been impossible, and so the money is all in exquisitely-cut, precious gems.
<@El-Cideon> The massive devil nods in satisfaction upon the signing of the contract and the appearance of the promised wealth. "Wait here, and I shall retrieve the mortal's original contract from its place of security," Falk concludes. "You are free to admire my handiwork during my brief absence," he says, with a gesture around the workshop, adding with a touch of pride, "Though some more disinterested overseers are happy to leave the day-to-day functionality of their business to kytons, I have always found a personal understanding of the mechanisms involved to be a great boon to efficiency." So saying, he leaves Franceska alone for the moment.
<Franceska> 'We signed a contract,' Franceska telepathically sends to Julia, while outwards she merely appears to wait. 'If there will be a betrayal, it would come now. Be careful.'
<@El-Cideon> Falk returns with a single, yellowed parchment. Through complicated legalese likely intimidating to less experienced litigators, it communicates that the owner of this document is in formal legal possessions of the soul of one Derek Bailey. Falk chants something arcane and his own signature--spiky, smoky and sprawling--simply burns itself off of the document. He folds it up carefully with the newly-signed contract, hands it all to Franceska and proclaims with a serious air: "I formally renounce possession of this soul and entrust it to the owner specified within this contract for the price noted."
<Franceska> "I formally accept possession of this soul, as per the stipulations of the contract," Franceska responds in kind, inclining her head as she accepts it. "A most satisfactory conclusion of our business."
<@El-Cideon> "Yes," he agrees, adding finally, "I should add that recent reports have suggested onset of a certain softness in the subject. I had considered whether arranging the subject's demise while still in peak condition might best ensure its future usefulness in soul form. I suggest this for your employer's consideration only. If that will be all, my maid shall see you out."
<Franceska> "I will report your message faithfully," Franceska promises, tucking the contracts away after making sure they won't get damaged by any rain should they get exposed. "That was all."
<@El-Cideon> The maid is waiting outside the door to see Franceska back downstairs, at Falk's instruction.

~

<Julia> Julia sets her wineglass down, now half-empty. "Our business should be concluded shortly," she says. "You have been most hospitable."
<El-Cideon> Valiska pouts. "You won't stick around around to have some fun? We don't get too many interesting visitors. I've got more toys in the basement," she promises. With a nod to the corpse hanging in the pool of acid, she promises, "Most of them are still pretty intact. A few are actually quite handsome."
<El-Cideon> At some unspoken signal, the maid turns and walks back upstairs.
<Julia> "I'm afraid our employer does not permit us the luxury of leisure time," Julia says regretfully as she stands up. "Your playmates are lucky compared to us if we are tardy," she adds with a smirk.
<El-Cideon> The maid shortly reappears with Franceska in tow. "Are we ready to leave?" Rosemund asks, betraying some degree of eagerness.
<@Franceska> "Our business has been concluded to our employer's satisfaction," Franceska responds.
<Julia> "You have the item?" Julia asks Franceska for the benefit of everyone else.
* @Franceska inclines her head.
<Julia> "Then we shall leave," she says decisively, starting to head for the door.
<Steph> Stephanie rises as well. "Please don't hesitate to contact me for work, however," she adds, turning about.
<El-Cideon> "Oh sure, we can look you up next time father says we've got killing to do," Valiska promises Stephanie. "Just let me know how to find you!"
<Steph> "I am hard to pin down," replies Stephanie. "But a Sending would do! It is the easiest way and I can alert you right away if I am available."
<El-Cideon> "Sure thing!" she promises. Grigori escorts you outside, with some parting suggestive comments that he'd also be happy to spend more time with his departing guests, hopefully in more private circumstances than a battlefield, which only affirm Rosemund's stony mask of displeasure. Outside, back in the rain, Crier admits, "I was really hoping, since Masuko didn't come with us this time, that we could just kill everybody we met. But I guess it was easier this way."
<Steph> "I was hoping that as well, but I believe I have just ensured I will get my chance."
<@Franceska> "Killing everyone we met would not have gotten us to our goal," Franceska says mildly. "Thus we should bide our time for three more days."
<Julia> "Yes, they're rather unpleasant aren't they?" Julia says, her mask slipping. "Ahh well, lets get back to the temple and I can return to my body. Though before that I'd like to try flying a little..."
<El-Cideon> "I guess it wouldn't have," Crier agrees. "But it would've been more fun."
<Steph> "It would have, wouldn't it?" agrees Stephanie, dreamily. "This city is in dire need of a crime wave."
<El-Cideon> ~