087: Trust in me and fall as well

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> The master of the house occupies an office sized on par with a mortal library, and as voluminous in its contents. Shelves stretch to a high ceiling, the room is well lit. Columns reaching above are sculpted to represent serious-looking men and women of various races properly outfitted for battle, but otherwise decoration is sparse and perfunctory. The greater devil in residence is presently behind a desk, examining a mural showing a battle scene. Krae Nalus stands at well over the height of any human, his wingspan probably twice that when properly unfolded. The luxurious white and gold gown he wears is starkly at odds with his infernal station, almost effete in its declaration of erudition. He turns at the sound of your footsteps and greets you with something approaching gregarious good humor. "Miss Sundown, yes?" a deep voice echoes off the far walls. "My subordinates inform me that you are interested in joining our household."
<Steph> "That's right! I thought you might be interested in someone like me, and I'm certainly interested in a bit of stability," replies Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> "We do excel at that virtue," he notes drily. Jill halts a step behind and to the right of you before the desk, having nothing to add at the moment. "I'm told you made quite the mess on our master's ballroom floor these few nights past," Krae continues. "Murdered one of Morazul's spawn for all to see. This is the peculiar talent you wish to offer us, yes?"
<Steph> "Yup. Don't think I'm limited to unarmored fops, either. When it comes to bringing down a hard target, I'm your girl," she replies. "'course, I don't need to be quite so flashy about it, but the right act for the right scene."
<El-Cideon> "Yes," he agrees, going on to acknowledge, "We always have use for capable killers. I've only need to determine which particular brand of killer you are." He retrieves a pair of arcane-looking spectacles from the desk and busies himself with polishing the lenses to a spotless shine. "So why don't we begin with your own beginnings? Tell me from whence you hail. And your parentage, if known," he adds with a nod towards Stephanie's obviously inhuman traits.
<Steph> "Amaranth," replies Stephanie, carelessly. "I don't know. My mother was some whore. My dad was, well, some fiend-blooded human, I guess? I don't really know or care, I never even saw him. Growing up on the street meant stealing to live, and since that was dangerous, I started playin' with knives. Not to mention, walking around a city with horns is gonna get you in trouble with self-righteous
<Steph> types."
<Steph> She shrugs. "A lot of thugs start out the way I did, but I figured out early that you're in trouble if you slack off. You have to take building your skills seriously. I mean, really seriously. If you aren't always getting better at this business, you'll stagnate, then die. You've always got to exceed the level you were at before, or you'll make too many enemies and die."
<El-Cideon> "Amaranth? Ah, another Solati." He nods toward Jill, who doesn't obviously react to or involve herself in this exchange in any way. "We have cause to acknowledge their martial vigor," he admits with solemn gravity. Krae dons the glasses and gives Stephanie a careful appraisal. "So your training was opportunistic, rather than disciplined?"
<Steph> "Yep. But I didn't do it by halves," swears Stephanie. "I looked into anything that'd give me an edge. Anatomy, psychology, spellcraftin', alchemy, poisons- everything. Demon, human, zombie, dragon- I can see the weakest points," she says, seriously. "That chump, I didn't just kill him. There wasn't even a body left, right? That's the fruit of my education. Cut someone apart in just the
<Steph> right way, and there's nothing at all left. Even an ogre with a giant hammer can't make someone vanish like that, but I can."
<El-Cideon> Krae inclines his chin thoughtfully. "I credit your thoroughness. So many soldiers give little thought to the act of killing beyond the brutish physicality of the business," he says. "But for utmost effectiveness, we should study our foes and comprehend them better than they understand themselves." He retrieves a scabbard from the desk, slips the blade a couple inches out to eye it carefully, then removes the shortsword altogether to go about polishing and honing it as you speak. "Tell me about your first act of murder," he prompts casually.
<Steph> "I killed people fightin' since I was little," reflects Stephanie. "But if you mean a premeditated sorta murder, that'd be Lord Cuen. Big speaker, always goin' on about cleaning up the filth from the streets. Well, I was filth, and didn't take kindly to nonsense like that. He had magic wards on his doors and windows, heard that from a maid I made good with." She smirks. "I paid off a couple
<Steph> kids to flings rocks through some in the servant's wing a couple days in advance. Alarm goes off once, but it didn't go off when I snuck in the next day. Wardmage was in a conference that week, see. No time to reset 'em. I did for him with a bit of glass from his own wall."
<El-Cideon> "Inventive, sound planning," Krae admits. "But how did it *feel?*" he asks, watching his mortal guests carefully for response.
<Steph> "Feel?" replies Stephanie, arching her neck to the ceiling. "If my life has a purpose, it's to do things like that. The moment when I'm watchin' someone's lights go out from their eyes, and they realise, this is it for them... it's the moment when everything lines up, and I'm at peace. The world makes sense, and I have control." She lowers her gaze to the cornugon. "I know I exist for one
<Steph> thing, and that's being the best killer I can be."
<El-Cideon> Krae's expression does not demonstrate any specific reaction to this sentiment. He places the sword back in its scabbard, then casually tosses it across for Stephanie to catch. "Try a few swings with this," he suggests, "while elaborating for us upon some of your career highlights."
<Steph> Stephanie snatches the sword out of the air, and studies it for a moment.
<El-Cideon> Upon touching the hilt, Stephanie is immediately suffused with a sense of skin-crawling unease; this implement is imbued with Hell's intrinsic vileness and it sullies you to touch it. (OOC: effectively -1 level as long as you're holding it. Roll bluff if Steph wishes to suppress any visible reaction to the discomfort of holding this object.)
<Steph> OOC: Can I try UMD'ing to emulate evil, first?
<El-Cideon> OOC: I don't think you can UMD to mimic other alignments. >.> Though feel free to correct me if this is actually written somewhere!
<Steph> OOC: This can in fact be done
<Steph> OOC: The DC is 30 <_<
<El-Cideon> OOC: haha, so it is. Go ahead!
<Steph> roll 1d20+14
<Serith> Steph roll for Serith < 18 >12 [d20=4]
<El-Cideon> OOC: alas. Carry on with Steph's reaction, honest or otherwise! (bluff in latter case)
<Steph> Stephanie clucks her tongue on holding the blade. As much as she goes on about voices in her head and strange urges, the horrible truth is that they're all mostly under control and she only unleashes them at appropriate times- no, and in any case they're nothing like this horrible thing. Still, it won't do not to be relaxed about it, and she stands poised on one leg with a serene gaze.
<Steph> roll 1d20+16 let's do this bluff shit
<Serith> Steph roll for Serith < 28 >12 [d20=12]
<El-Cideon> Krae just watches, and waits for the fulfillment of his standing request. For her own part, Jill's expression suggests, if anything, a trace of disappointment.
<Steph> "Ser Jordan, of St. Cuthbert's gaggle," reflects Stephanie, reminiscing on times long ago. The individuals were certainly killed by her, but the real reasons why they met judgement at her hands are set aside. "Every priest I killed was one less way for those so-called gods to have their way with me and mine. I snuck into the church and night, and loosened the bolts holding up the chandeliers
<Steph> in their church. The next day, during the sermon, I attended. When he was stepping down the aisle, one bolt from a crossbow finished the job and brought the whole thing down onto him. I even got it back before anyone checked the roof."
<Steph> "There was one other time when things went wrong, too. Mayoress of this small town, Proluk. Her tariffs were making life difficult, and some nice gentlemen wanted a malleable replacement. I used a cool hat to pretend to be one of her maids. Worst luck, though, apparently she was close. You know, close-close with this one. She figured me out, and there was nothing for it but to fight. I had
<Steph> something like a minute before her guards were upon me, and she was brutal with that axe of hers." Stephanie taps her eyes. "But she couldn't see without a torch, and the manor's only got candles at night. Stayed out of reach long enough to put 'em all out, and she didn't have a prayer. It's all tricks. You use every one of your talents to come out ahead. When I think of mortals, they're
<Steph> the ones that stick out, but..."
<Steph> She licks her lips. "Meandor. Toughest nut to date. You don't take on a fallen angel every day, but try doing it when all your gear's been nicked and you're naked in a labyrinth."
<El-Cideon> "And how did you do it after all?" Krae says, intrigued by this last account.
<Steph> "I stole gear from his own treasury," replies Stephanie, grinning. "He and his lackeys, they'd all gathered around this crystal ball in his throne room. Right by it was the treasury. Think floating islands everywhere, linked up by bridges; his goons are on one, his treasury in another. You can't cross the bridges, though, they'll see you easily. The whole place was open, meant to be so nobody
<Steph> could sneak around. And I'm sure they could see invisible folks, too. But there's one weakness to this setup. They can see everything except what's directly underneath the crossings. I was always good at climbing. I snuck along the underside, grabbed all the gear I could carry, then snuck out. Divvied it up between me and the others who were stuck in there, and all of a sudden the tables
<Steph> were turned."
<El-Cideon> Krae nods in approval and proceeds to sum up: "A satisfactory resume, all in all. Our Great and Noble War always has need of such talented combatants, either in rank at the front lines or in more esoteric functions. I should judge from the sound of things that you are not one to march in formation. Your preferred function would no doubt be the discrete eraser of obstacles. The silent blade in the darkness, yes? We admit to having use for such individuals on occasion."
<Steph> "That's what I'm usually hired for. Funny thing, though. I reckon I'd be just as good stoppin' people like me, but nobody ever asks for that."
<El-Cideon> "I have always considered that the proper way to concern oneself about assassins is to remove one's enemies as soon as they are identified and before they think to resort to such expedients themselves," Krae says. "But it must be understood," he goes on to clarify, looking at Stephanie very closely here, "that if retained in such a position you would feel bound to eliminate whatsoever target I designated for the benefit of our greater cause. Whatever they are. Whoever they are."
<Steph> Stephanie raises an eyebrow. "That's to be expected. But so's you know, I don't do drudge work," she warns. "I need challenges. If you're gonna have me going after the weaklings, though, then this ain't the place for me."
<El-Cideon> "There are many more casual ways to dispose of weaklings," he says offhandedly. "What we must make clear is that you should have no compunction, if ordered, about killing anyone at all that impedes our designs. Be that person a paragon of celestial virtue, should they happen to also be the caring mother of an expansive family, or even a traveling companion of long acquaintance, you must not hesitate to carry out your duty. You are certain that you can accommodate even all of these circumstances?" His scrutiny here, as well as Jill's, is palpable.
<Steph> Stephanie raises an eyebrow. "Angels or mothers or whatever, that's one thing. Most people, I ain't owing nothing," she replies, curtly. "But I ain't gonna be backstabbing people whom I've fought and bled with." She archs an eyebrow. "Don't you have a special place down here for people who do that kinda thing?"
<El-Cideon> It's an awful thing to see a devil smile. "Yes. Yes, we do." He stands up to signal an end to the meeting. "We will consider your application. I believe I may have a preliminary task for you to perform within the next few days. A final examination of sorts. Scarlet will arrange lodging for you and whatever personal servants you require in the meantime, presuming you are amenable to remaining within easy reach."
<Steph> Stephanie bounces out of her pose of stillness, and returns the sword to its sheath. "Sure, sounds good. I just gotta pick up the rest of my stuff from the temple."
<El-Cideon> "That is agreeable," he says. He doesn't seem to care what happens with the sword. "See her back to her associates and send in the other applicant, Miss Cook," he instructs Jill. "Ah, Miss Sundown?" he adds finally. "I have one parting formality. It is often superfluous, but at times the answer can prove instructive. In what force do you place your faith?"
<Steph> Stephanie pauses in her stride. "Sundown," she echoes. "I actually made that name up for myself." She shakes her head for a moment. "I believe that everything has an inevitable end. Even the gods and the realms they have constructed. I, too, will die some day, and persist as something else for a time. But eventually, I will cease completely. It's something I find deeply comforting."
<El-Cideon> "I see," Krae says without distinct inflection. Then he goes back to his desk and Jill leads you out.

<El-Cideon> ~

<El-Cideon> The rest of the group whiles away a peaceful afternoon in Hell while Stephanie has her interview with the devil. In due time, Jill returns with her charge and instructs Scarlet thusly: "The master has extended an offer of lodging to our guests while considering their applications. Please arrange private quarters for them and their servants. Miss Sundown also intends to return briefly to the temple to retrieve her belongins, so see to her safe transport as well." Jill then turns to Franceska: "The master will see you now."
<Franceska> Offering Scarlet a pleasant smile, Franceska rises to her feet and approaches Jill. "Let us not keep him waiting, then."
<@Julia> "I'll wait here then, shall I?" Julia asks since it seems lackeys aren't permitted in the interviews.
<@El-Cideon> Jill leads Franceska downstairs and down a long corridor lined with doors. She does not immediately have anything to say to her charge, and seems somewhat obviously distracted as you go.
<Franceska> "I don't suppose you would have any suggestions on how to present myself, one human to another?" Franceska voices, keeping pace.
<@El-Cideon> "Be polite," Jill advises. "Deferential, but not obsequious. Recognize the difference in your positions but don't demean yourself by groveling for better. Be forthright about your virtues without embellishing them."
* Franceska cracks a slight grin. "Virtues? I see."
<@El-Cideon> "Your professional virtues," Jill clarifies. She sounds as though this should have been obvious.
<Franceska> "It's not that. That's just not a word I expected to encounter in Baator," Franceska muses.
<@El-Cideon> "It's used with some frequency," Jill explains, "when there is pressing need to sound pejorative."
<Franceska> "Then I hope that wasn't the case, when you were talking about mine just then." Franceska glances askance at Jill, asking, "If I may... what is your official role here? Is it what sets you apart from the rest?"
<@El-Cideon> "When I truly wish to wound someone, that is precisely what I do," Jill reassures Franceska to the first point. To the second, "I am charged with training and commanding the master's mortal legions on Avernus. Within the household my position could perhaps be best described as...respected adviser."
<Franceska> "Respected from a distance," Franceska notes.
<@El-Cideon> "Sometimes, that is preferable," Jill says. "To be recognized as a formidable presence is the best guarantee of personal security, wouldn't you say?"
<Franceska> "It's one way," Franceska agrees. "It rarely hurts to be formidable, although I've found that mutually beneficial alliances work even better at keeping us safe."
<@El-Cideon> "Hence your desire for a professional relationship with our master, no doubt," Jill assumes as you approach the doors at the end of the corridor. Krae's personal bodyguard, the hulking iron bull Phalaris, waits outside. "You will leave any weapons that you carry outside the door," rumbles insistently from somewhere deep within the metal mass.
<Franceska> "There is that," Franceska allows. It's regrettable she didn't have much time to talk to Jill, but she'll just have to find another chance. For now, she hands over her rapier while keeping her ring firmly upon her finger.
<@El-Cideon> Phalaris doesn't appear to recognize the ring as anything significant, and moreover makes no careful search of Franceska's remaining possessions. Jill knocks upon the door, and at gruff acknowledgement from the other side opens:
<@El-Cideon> The master of the house occupies an office sized on par with a mortal library, and as voluminous in its contents. Shelves stretch to a high ceiling, the room is well lit. Columns reaching above are sculpted to represent serious-looking men and women of various races properly outfitted for battle, but otherwise decoration is sparse and perfunctory. The greater devil in residence is presently replacing several tomes upon their proper places on the shelves. Krae Nalus stands at well over the height of any human, his wingspan probably twice that when properly unfolded. The luxurious white and gold gown he wears is starkly at odds with his infernal station, almost effete in its declaration of erudition. He turns to greet you upon entry; Jill closes the door and steps in to remain a step behind and to your side. "And this would be our esteemed expert of the law, Miss Durant?" Krae assumes.
<Franceska> "I've had a chance to practice it across the planes, Lord Nalus," Franceska responds. "Franceska Durant, at your service."
<@El-Cideon> Krae strides over to the desk. "And in what capacity precisely do you wish to be of service?" he asks first. "Agents of the law have often been of great utility for our cause. I should understand better which arena your particular talents occupy before considering to which schemes you might be most usefully assigned."
<Franceska> "I would not presume to know more about such schemes than Lord Nalus himself, so answering such a question might be difficult," Franceska responds, speaking with self-assurance that nevertheless never goes past professionalism and slips into arrogance. "Rather, I wish to ask where wouldn't I be of use to His Lordship? Firm knowledge of the law is crucial to many endeavours, and can be turned
<Franceska> upon enemies and business partners alike to come out on top at minimal expense of effort and resources. My chosen profession also lends itself to such negotiations even when they deviate from strictly legal matters, and I have conducted myself favorably in such in the past."
<Franceska> This is where the real selling point comes, however, and she draws herself just a bit taller as she proceeds. "Yet I hold one particular advantage over other barristers in that I am quite capable of defending myself and, by extension, my employer's interests. Even on my own, I could accomplish much if asked to negotiate in a potentially hostile environment, whereas others might require a
<Franceska> small contingent of guards to accompany them. That, in itself, both saves valuable resources and creates an opening for an opponent to make a mistake by underestimating me. Such missteps would, of course, be quite beneficial to my employer."
<@El-Cideon> Krae considers this at length. "I should not consider it askance to command a mediator well capable of imposing through force what cannot be negotiated more easily," he allows. "So you would recommend yourself in part based upon personal martial efficacy?"
<Franceska> "After a fashion, Lord Nalus. I allow those I summon to make my point for me."
<@El-Cideon> Krae sits down at his desk, though his fiendish dimensions mean you're still looking up slightly to meet his gaze directly. "Is that so?" he asks curiously. "Then indulge my curiosity with some of your most salient career highlights. Both in practice of law, and through such alternative methods as we've noted are sometimes required when negotiation fails."
<Franceska> Franceska inclines her head. "Certainly, Lord Nalus. During a visit to Arborea to resolve a kidnapping to my employer's satisfaction, I had attended a fey court. While a mockery of true law, it was close enough to be relateable. I offered my services to the prosecution while dispatching my assistants to the defense. The trial was won, yet my foresight secured the necessary information about
<Franceska> the kidnapper's whereabouts in every possible outcome." She pauses. "Another case occurred on Earth, where my employer's interests rested in securing items held by a stronghold of drow and by illithids employing a dragon. My duties were discharged successfully, as the drow were turned upon each other, and one of their factions then procured the necessary item from the illithids while bringing
<Franceska> their own out of hope of securing an alliance with my employer. There was no need to lift a finger; in fact, Earth's tunnels randomly collapsing upon myself during my travels were the worst dangers of that incident. Finally, upon the plane of death itself, I negotiated safe passage with a powerful vampire. The results were better than expected, and I was allowed entry into her castle to
<Franceska> continue our deliberations." This time, Franceska sounds regretful as she says, "The specifics of those negotiations still remain confidential, I'm afraid."
<@El-Cideon> Krae considers this carefully at length. "I may certainly credit you with diverse experience," he acknowledges. After a long, careful appraisal, he shifts the subject: "But our operations frequently demand a peculiar negotiation that is often outside even a seasoned lawyer's experience," he says, adding wryly, "at least in the most literal sense. Tell me, Miss Durant: have you familiarity with soul contracts?"
<Franceska> "My previous contract had just ended before I sought Your Lordship's attention," Franceska responds. "It consisted of just one such negotiation. A promising soul changed hands into the possession of my previous employer rather discreetly, and the payment accepted by the high ranking devil that held it previously was merely gold and not of equivalent value."
<@El-Cideon> "An estimable bargain in most circumstances," Krae agrees. "Would you be so kind as to tell us who this notable was with whom you performed this transaction?"
<Franceska> "I'm afraid that this transaction would no longer be discreet, then, Lord Nalus," Franceska says apologetically. "I would imagine that my confidentiality is a draw rather than a point against me, where prospective employers are involved."
<@El-Cideon> He almost appears to smile at this response, but it's difficult to be certain as such would be neither a natural nor comforting expression upon a devil's face. He sits back and looks carefully at Franceska over steepled claws. "You are Solati, as was your martial friend before you?" he says, then covering Jill's inclusion in this category with a nod her direction as well.
<Franceska> "Indeed I am, although not by birth," she confirms. Adding her own nod at Jill, Franceska says, "Miss Cook's reputation precedes her, of course."
<@El-Cideon> "And what does her reputation entail in her homeland these days?" Krae asks. He sounds amused as Jill stiffens humorlessly at your side. "Please enlighten us."
<Franceska> "Martial competence and a soul of steel that would not bend under pressure," Franceska responds. "Were this not my job interview but a more relaxed setting, I would find myself quite curious at how Miss Cook came to be in His Lordship's employ."
<@El-Cideon> "Through supreme truculence," Krae answers, not sounding interested in elaborating further in present company. "Which brings us to one salient point: service in our employ will always be rewarded commensurate to the risks of the position, but adherence to our Great and Noble Cause requires the forswearance of all previous loyalties. We shall not brook half measures in service to the great struggle. This may sound obvious, but not all applicants consider it to such extent as they should, ambitious for promotion as they often are: if your duties should clash with allegiances you once maintained, to friend, family or country, you must be prepared to persist in upholding our cause with all proper righteousness. Do you consider yourself prepared for such potential conflicts?"
<Franceska> "It is quite obvious to me, Lord Nalus, that there should be no conflict of interest between a previous employer and the one I'm serving. And if one's friends get in the way of one's duties, they are clearly not worth keeping. That said, however, I must inquire as to whether swearing my allegiance in such a way will serve to tie me to Your Lordship's service indefinitely. So far, my jobs have
<Franceska> all been of a transitory nature, and I would be more comfortable with a clause securing such if I feel it is time to move on to the next professional challenge."
<@El-Cideon> "A curious request," Krae muses. "Do you anticipate circumstances in which such an escape might prove necessary?" he asks.
<Franceska> "Not an escape, Lord Nalus. Merely, a mutually-agreeable parting. While I cannot anticipate any particular circumstance for this, my understanding of Baator is of enduring service which, given the existence of soul contracts, often extends past one's natural life. Thus, I would be remiss not to cover myself legally to the best of my ability, and it is to my advantage to be open with a potential
<Franceska> employer about such to facilitate a proper working relationship."
<@El-Cideon> "It is true," Krae acknowledges, "that not all service arrangements are, as written, all-encompassing throughout the mortal's life. Why, many of the mercenary troops that bolster our legions, harvested as they are from mortal societies throughout the planes, are stipulated to be in service for some standard duration of years. Of course," he adds, sparing a sardonic expression for Jill before continuing, "the martial demands of frontline units are such that few might be expected to outlive their contracts anyway." He turns his attention more specifically back to Franceska. "How much of your future," he asks casually, "*would* you be prepared to devote to our service, then?"
<Franceska> "I would estimate that a year should be sufficient to see how much my service has benefited His Lordship, and for myself to truly experience life in Baator properly. I believe that when Miss Cook was my age, she hadn't expected that Baator is where she would settle down, yet settle down here she has. In light of that example, I would like to take things slowly, if it suits His Lordship."
<@El-Cideon> "A year," Krae says thoughtfully, "is sufficient to comprehend the nature of most mortals." Casually, with amusement but no specific reference, he adds, "Though there remain sometimes those baffling individual complexities that defy such easy inspection." He studies Franceska carefully as though considering which category she may occupy. "I may wish for a demonstration of your legal acumen before we come to any agreement," he says.
<Franceska> "Certainly. Is there an actual case requiring my talents, or does His Lordship have a mock trial in mind?"
<@El-Cideon> "The acquisition of souls remains as ever the principal interest of any Baatorian concern. I should like you to write for me an example contract most suitable, in your professional and personal experience, for enticing the well-rewarded allegiance of a socially notable individual significant to your home nation. I am well familiar with such documents, and have some passing familiarity with the whims and customs of your countrymen--" again he spares a dry and significant look in Jill's direction,"--and shall recognize whether the work produced is of value to our concerns in that land. You may tailor it specifically for one individual known to you or generally for some specific local population. I leave that to your particular expertise."
* Franceska inclines her head. "It shall be done. To truly do such a contract justice I will require some time, of course, and to consult material on Solata to tailor it properly, as I've been traveling extensively in recent times. When does His Lordship wish to receive this document?"
<@El-Cideon> "You may partake of our hospitality for a week if you require such time in preparation. I have some texts on the subject that may be of use if you so require. Miss Cook can provide them for you upon request. I should also ask whether you have any favored implement to rely upon for defense at such times as negotiation turns sour and violence proves necessary?"
<Franceska> "I suppose my rapier?" Franceska muses. "And I've found that a staff can do as well, Lord Nalus, seeming quite innocent until used properly."
<@El-Cideon> He nods, opens a desk drawer and shortly fishes out a fine-looking rapier, which he hands over to Franceska after a moment. "Let us see whether the balance of this weapon suits you," he says. Jill seems to be watching you especially closely at this moment.
<Franceska> "With your permissions, Lord Nalus?" Franceska asks as she accepts the weapon, and contingent on receiving it casts Detect Magic to examine it. The tip is always kept directed away from either Krae Nalus or Jill, and she has no intention of looking like she's about to use it on anyone.
<@El-Cideon> It is indeed a magical weapon, and on picking it up Franceska can recognize instantly that it courses with the vile energies inherent to Baator and its natives. It feels quite a natural fit to Franceska's spirit.
<Franceska> roll 1d20+19 tell me your secrets, sword!
<Rei-chan> 6,0Franceska rolled :6,0 1d20+19 1,0tell me your secrets, sword! --> 6,0[ 1d20=12 ]4,0{31}
<@El-Cideon> OOC: it's an unholy rapier +2.
<Franceska> "Ah. A very fine weapon, although regrettably not as useful against demons or the undead," Franceska muses out loud, testing the weapon's balance. "You must understand, Lord Nalus, that those are the menaces I ran into most commonly while traveling the planes. It should work on elves just fine, of course."
<@El-Cideon> "I suspected it would prove a natural fit for you in at least some way," he says, sparing a moment to nod at a flatly expressionless Jill. "See Miss Durant to her chambers," he says, concluding the meeting.
<Franceska> That's a clear dismissal, and so she bows and sheathes her apparent gift.
<@El-Cideon> Back outside, Phalaris allows you to retrieve your original weapon and Jill marches you back to the second floor.
<Franceska> "My apologies for bringing you into the conversation and the manner in which it happened, Miss Cook," Franceska tells her, once they are off. "Would you consider offering your insight into the Solata of your day? While anyone halfway competent could write a brief about the state of affairs now or use one to prepare a contract, to truly tailor one it would help to consider how things naturally
<Franceska> evolved there."
<@El-Cideon> "I don't take offense at simple curiosity," Jill says, in an air that suggests she might object to more than that. "I should think your task an imposing one. Conflict bred a commitment against outside interference not easily appreciated by the distant puppetmasters of Baator. Of course," she adds, sparing an inquisitive look at Franceska, "as a more recent resident, you may be more qualified than I to speak to the accuracy of my estimate."
<Franceska> "Surely, not everyone was routed at the time. As matter of fact, I have good reason to believe a few at the very top escaped the purges. But they must have laid low for a while, so to reel them back in I could use an understanding of the political map of the day. There is that, and then there is my curiousity once more as to how you would feel about that. Disappointed that your efforts at
<Franceska> the time weren't complete? Impressed at the ingenuity of the survivors?"
<@El-Cideon> Jill gives Franceska a searching look. "The Regent was very thorough," she says. "At times perhaps excessively so. I've only your word that any agents of importance survived," she adds, not sounding certain whether Franceska's word is presently a thing to be taken at face value.
<Franceska> "Since I'm being given a room here for the week to work on my contract, perhaps we could meet tomorrow to discuss this matter further?"
<@El-Cideon> After a moment's consideration, she nods. "Find me after lunch. I should be in the training hall just past the garden at that hour."
<Franceska> "It would be my pleasure, Miss Cook."

~

<El-Cideon> Stephanie departs to possibly retrieve possessions left at the temple, or possibly to retrieve someone else's. "Well, if you're going to make an extended stay, then I might as well really show you around the place," Scarlet offers. "The master of the house might not indulge much in the way of luxury, but no expense is spared for the pleasure of his loyal servants."
<@Julia> She hopes said pleasure isn't anything like what those two half-fiends indulged in. "Of course," she says, standing up and then reaching for a wand out of her bag. "Now, just in case we run into that strange elf..." she points it at herself and casts magic circle against evil. She won't be enchanted into doing degrading things!
<El-Cideon> "A very sensible precaution," Scarlet, "and very proper to let the rascal know in advance that you are not to be manipulated." She stands up amidst the clatter of jewelry.
<@Julia> Stowing the wand away, Julia expectantly waits for Scarlet to lead her on the grand tour.
<El-Cideon> Before setting out, Scarlet instructs her maid: "Sylvia, prepare chambers for our guests." She pauses to count up the number of visitors and then asks Julia bluntly: "Do any in your company prefer to share a bed?"
<@Julia> She could play a prank here, but no, Hell is stressful enough. "No, none of us share that sort of relationship," she answers honestly.
<El-Cideon> "Five bedrooms, then. See to it," she says cheerfully. The black-haired maid bows and departs with the obligatory, "Of course, mistress." Scarlet sweeps on out of the guest wing and back out onto the second floor landing. "Do any of you have an interest in botany?" she asks. "We've quite the exotic garden. Or, if you've not yet had a proper meal this morning, the master maintains only the best chefs on staff, so I could show you to the dining quarters if you like. Oh, and our bathing facilities are quite luxurious if that should strike your fancy. We've time to spare, so consider me at your disposal, just tell me how you'd like to pass the time while we wait."
<@Julia> "Franceska I think is probably the one with a real interest in botany, but who doesn't like flowers? Lets go have a look?" Julia asks with equal cheer.
<El-Cideon> "You'll find it all very exotic if you're accustomed more to a mundane flowerbed back on the material plane," Scarlet assures Julia. She leads the way through a broad set of doors directly past the main staircase and shortly emerges on a terrace overlooking a covered garden accomodating an acreage to rival any noble manor back home. Heavy panes of glass up above shield the enclosure and its contents from the near-constant downpour of Minauros. At a glance, while there are some quarters of the garden given over to carefully maintained patches of merely pretty flowers, it sports some very unusual specimens as well: a tree of a sort familiar to Rosemund in particular from the asylum occupies a center plot, albeit this one appears to have been turned to stone; one shaded corner holds a plot of mushrooms as tall as a man; some of the superficially normal flowers prove much stranger on closer examination, like the patch of rosebushes whose flowers continually ooze with what looks remarkably like blood; a modest hedgemaze occupies the far end of the room; and possibly the most distracting display is a collection of weeping vines wrapped tight around what looks remarkably like the form of a screaming man.
<@Julia> "Oh, a night twist?" Julia says, taking refuge in familiarity. "I suppose you have to turn it to stone to keep it from trying to kill everyone, don't you?"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund suppresses an uncomfortable outburst herself upon recognizing it. "Oh, yes," Scarlet says, pleased to hear recognition. "Quite so. A visually striking organism, but a dangerous one as well. This way we can admire it in safety and everyone is unharmed. Well, except for the tree, I suppose," she adds offhandedly.
<@Julia> "Petrification isn't really harm anyway. I'm told it's a rather enlightening experience."
<El-Cideon> "Stephanie found it very...philosophical," Rosemund adds in. "Is that so?" Scarlet asks, surprised. "Well, I'm sure that you'll forgive me if I am not so eager to wake the tree up and ask it myself what great truths it's uncovered during its long sleep," she adds with a laugh.
<@Julia> "No, they're a pain to fight anyway," Julia agrees, her interest in the garden waning.
<El-Cideon> "What's that?" Crier asks, pointing to the silently screaming pile of vines. "Oh, one of the master's former servants who thought to steal from him," Scarlet explains, adding cheerily, "We are ever so fond of setting the proper example here."
<@Julia> Hopefully she'll have time to drop some acid fog on the place before they leave, but for now Julia masks her disquiet with a sanguine smile. "Clearly some people don't know the value of loyalty."
<El-Cideon> "It's a puzzlement to me," Scarlet says as she walks along through the garden, "how anyone in our master's service could find the compensation insufficient to begin with." After pausing to admire and inhale deeply of a flower that crackles peacefully with a constant flame, Scarlet leads the group out into an intersection on the other side of the garden. "The dining hall and the bathing chambers are both nearby if either should suit you. Oh, and there's also a splendid library on the grounds, but it's also the master's office and you won't be allowed in unsupervised or on anything but official business. I suppose I could make a specific request for reading material if anyone is so inclined." Scarlet herself sounds happy to have no personal acquaintence with reading. She points to her right. "And down that way is Calpernia's training hall, but I've little use for such facilities myself."
<@Julia> "I could go for some food...?" Julia says, making it a question as she looks at Rosemund and Crier in case they have anything they want to do.
<El-Cideon> "I could go for a bite," Crier pipes in, and Rosemund nods in evident agreement that this is preferable to the alternatives. "You'll not be disappointed," Scarlet promises as she heads down the hall and takes a left into a sumptuous banquet hall gleaming with gold and silver ornament in profusion not usually seen so obviously elsewhere about the mansion. A tuxedo-clad imp pops into existing upon Scarlet's arrival and waits for orders. "We can answer nearly any appetite here, I promise you," Scarlet says. "All you need to do is ask." She turns to the imp. "Unicorn for myself, Brax. You know how I like it."
<@Julia> Anything? "Rust monster... bisque?" Julia hazards uncertainly. She could always use more iron in her diet after all.
<El-Cideon> "An interesting selection," Scarlet says, before informing the imp sharply: "Brax, remember to serve with *wooden* utensils this time." Crier orders simply "Something I've never eaten before," while Rosemund insists upon a simple salad, nothing fancy or exotic at all, citing an uneasy stomach.
<El-Cideon> Scarlet sniffs a little haughtily at Rosemund's preference as the imp disappears to get to work. "I've always thought it's not a proper meal without a main course of meat," she insists.
<@Julia> "Well, we did have that big breakfast," Julia excuses Rosemund's lack of appetite.
<El-Cideon> Scarlet seems convinced to let the error pass at that. She fritters away the time with idle chatter about clothes, jewelry and fashion until the imp pops back in with a collection of platters weighing him down upon head and arms, with one bowl carried by his tail. He serves his mistress first: Scarlet's meal is a smoking haunch of meat barely recognizable as more than a hunk of carbon; it comes apart in her hands with strange ease and is devoured with a kind of bestial daintiness. Julia's serving of soup is tinted heavily the hue of oxidized iron. Rosemund's salad is, to her obvious relief, composed mostly of recognizable, plain vegetables. Crier is given a plate carrying a slimy alien globule that she's informed is "liver of slaad smothered in salamander oil." She appears to consider this an intriguing combination.
<@Julia> Filling up her spoon, Julia brings it to her lips and takes a careful sip, since she has no idea what this is going to taste like.
<El-Cideon> It's tangy and bitter and not altogether unlike what you might expect a battleaxe ground into paste to taste like, albeit processed and seasoned in a way to make it palatable. It's strong and sharp but fine enough if you take it in small servings.
<@Julia> Reaching into her bag, Julia withdraws a small bottle of lemon juice, from which she dribbles a few drops into her soup before putting it away again. Giving it a little stir, she resumes eating, finding it altogether more palatable with a bit of zest added.
<El-Cideon> "How is it?" Rosemund asks, splitting an uneasy glance between Julia's and Crier's meals (and avoiding acknowledgement of Scarlet's).
<El-Cideon> "It's different," Crier says, happily spearing a nasty-looking blob off with her fork. "Like it can't decide what flavor it wants to be so it tries a little of all of them. Or maybe that's just me. Also you guys my mouth is just on fire now, like whoa." She fans her breath melodramatically.
<@Julia> "Quite bitter and tangy," Julia answers. "The lemon really brings out the flavours though. Want to try some?" she offers.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund decides it's not the most objectionable thing at the table, nods and scoots her chair over to try a sample.
* @Julia offers Rosemund the spoon. "Just take a little sip first," she suggests, "It's quite a strong taste."
<El-Cideon> Rosemund leans in and takes a sip, winces a little before trying it more seriously. "It is not bad," she decides, "but it is much too strong for me to eat a full bowl of it."
<@Julia> "Lots of iron though, it's good for the blood," Julia says, taking the spoon back once Rosemund's had a proper sample.
<El-Cideon> "I suppose if it is a healthy meal..." Rosemund allows, sounding as though this compensates for rather a lot according to her standards.
<@Julia> "We should try and make more effort to butcher the odd monster now and then, liven up our camp cooking that way," Julia muses around her meal.
<El-Cideon> "It is always a shame to waste a good carcass," Scarlet agrees. She's managed to remain admirably clean despite rather deplorable eating habits, and carefully polishes her long crimson nails with a napkin. "Shall we retire to the sauna if we've all eaten our fill?" she suggests.
<@Julia> It sounds like they've exhausted all of the other amusments within... although a sauna would probably be pretty welcome if not for the locale. "Unless anyone has any other ideas?" she asks Crier and Rosemund after finishing off her bisque.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund doesn't look happy about it, but she doesn't evidently have any other ideas, either. Scarlet rises from her chair and leads the way down a side corridor to where Sylvia is again conveniently waiting for her. A wood-paneled dressing room with cabinets for personal belongings serves as entryway to the baths proper. Without preamble, Scarlet in everyone else's presence casually instructs her maid to undress her and carefully stow her dress, evidently expecting as much from the rest of the group.
<@Julia> Hoping this doesn't turn freaky, Julia sets her bag in one of the cabinets and then starts to undress herself, her porcelain pale skin suggesting a rather dire need for the iron which she so recently fortified herself with.
<El-Cideon> That Crier's network of scars proves all-encompassing is no piece of news after her scandalous dress at the party, and she shucks off her robe without hesitation. Rosemund is visually uncomfortable being naked in the presence of an amoral stranger and probable enemy, but complies to avoid making a scene. Scarlet leads the way along bright marble halls to an octagonal sauna chamber already brimming with a heavy and oppressive air of steam. She inhales happily upon entry, looking naturally at ease in a sweltering air that must seem a shocking change to the others after tolerating the pervasive chill rains of Minauros outside for days. No doubt to Julia's relief, there's nothing apparently scandalous or unusual about this very functional room, or Scarlet's behavior as she lies down to relax.
<@Julia> Indeed, this is quite tolerable. Her pale skin even acquires a rosy flush in response to the pervasive heat as she goes to sit on one of the benches, crossing her legs and leaning back to just relax for a bit... though it does nag at her that this is the worst time for some sort of crisis to occur...
<El-Cideon> "I get the odd impression," Scarlet says to Julia after an appraisal of Rosemund across the room, "that your associate is possessed of some unwarranted degree of shame. The way she holds her wings to herself--really, they could be quite striking, she should feel more proud of them."
<@Julia> "You'll have to excuse Rosemund, it takes her a long time to warm up to people," Julia says on her friend's behalf. "The wings may be striking down here, but in our usual travels they bring more difficult reactions."
<El-Cideon> "Oh, you'll not have to worry about that at all if you take up a job in our house," Scarlet assures you, loudly enough to include all in the conversation and no doubt reassure Rosemund that there is an understanding place for her in Hell should she choose to accept it. "We're accepting of anyone that can get the job done!"
<@Julia> "Well, we are just assistants, it's up to Franceska and Stephanie to manage that," Julia demurs.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, you needn't sell yourselves short," Scarlet says with a wave. "I'm sure that you all have valuable talents of your own, else you'd hardly have been brought this far by their side. If there's one thing you should have already learnt about Baator, it's the very limited tolerance for useless people."
<@Julia> "True, Franceska isn't the sort to let sentimentality cloud her judgement. If I weren't pulling my weight she'd probably have fed me to the vampires," Julia muses agreeably.
<El-Cideon> "Of course," Scarlet says, proceeding to move on with a gossipy air. "Well, since we're all girls here, I don't think it too indecent to ask whether your duties have allowed time for any exciting romances during your travels?"
<@Julia> Not really, but she's hardly obligated to the truth here is she? "Franceska had her heart broken by an elf," she confides, "They were deeply in love, but then he noticed a wrinkle and he left her at the altar. That's why she hates them so much."
<El-Cideon> Scarlet laughs happily. "Ah, isn't that the truth? You know, elves are as mortal as anyone else, it simply takes them much longer to realize it. But that doesn't make the smugness any more bearable, does it? I do hope his treachery was properly revenged!"
<@Julia> "He's become very well acquainted with the infirmities of age by now," Julia says with a little smile. Yes, it would be fun if she ever got to actually use that spell, but she's never had a chance...
<El-Cideon> Scarlet nods in approval, then looks around to the other women. "Well, how about the two of you? Managed any exciting or scandalous dalliances you should wish to brag about?"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund simply blushes and shakes her head vigorously. Crier confides with a slightly lamentable air, "Not lately, Her Bossiness has kept us pretty busy. I haven't found any good me time since those couple mermen back on Water, and that was like whole months ago."
<El-Cideon> "Well, I should consider it my duty as a hostess to see that any such anxiousness is addressed if the need should prove overpowering," Scarlet promises the group. "You may consider Sylvia at your disposal if desired. It took some training, but she serves dutifully now. Of course, if you're looking for men, I'll have to send out for an appropriate partner, but I assure you the city's servant rosters are well-stocked in attractive partners."
<@Julia> Poor Sylvia. "I don't think we're quite at the stage of overpowering need quite yet," Julia says.
<El-Cideon> "Nevertheless, you need only ask if the mood overtakes you," Scarlet reiterates. The rest of the afternoon passes in whatever idle chatter Scarlet's fleeting fancies settle upon. After redressing and leading you back to your assigned quarters (separate bedrooms, tastefully luxurious in your own secluded corridor of the guest wing), she declares a personal duty to oversee preparations of the evening meal and leaves you to relax and await the return of your friends in whatever manner you prefer. "You know," Crier observes casually, "I understand not wanting to tell her, but you can tell us~" she sing-songs in Rosemund's direction.
<El-Cideon> "Really, I have nothing to admit to anyone," Rosemund insists stubbornly.
<@Julia> "It's not really a lifestyle conducive to attachment," Julia admits.
<El-Cideon> "Hey, you don't always have to be attached to him," Crier argues. "Sometimes it's enough that two people are in the right place at the right time, and maybe, mayyybe they'll see each other again later, who knows, but the important thing is that it's romantic right there and then. See, I've been living on the road a long time myself, you have to take these opportunities when you find them. You don't want to find yourself an old lady one day without anything to reminisce about!"
<El-Cideon> "I think that Julia does not plan to be an old lady at all," Rosemund points out, eagerly changing the subject.
<@Julia> "Well, I'll get old, but not old-old..." Julia muses.
<El-Cideon> "Oh yeah?" Crier asks, just as happy to be curious about something else.
<@Julia> "Well as a lich I'll stop aging, but time will still pass. So I'll accrue all the wisdom that comes with age, with none of the infirmity. Though it might not do my complexion any favours," she admits, stroking her cheek.
<El-Cideon> "That's just what illusion spells are for, right?" Crier says encouragingly.
<El-Cideon> At this point, Jill reappears to deliver Franceska back to the others' company and then departs on errands. "How did it go?" Rosemund asks, obviously happy to see any of her friends back in one piece after meeting privately with such a dire fiend.
<@Julia> "I can't use those," Julia pouts, but doesn't launch into her plans for the magic jar spell since Franceska's returned. "Got the job, m'lady?" she chirps.
<Franceska> "I shall be staying here for a week on a probationary basis," Franceska informs them, "considering that I am in no rush to sign away my soul for all eternity. I'm still not fully certain Baator is the right place for me, no matter how nice it feels. Indoors."
<El-Cideon> "It is definitely not the right place for you," Rosemund insists. "They eat unicorns here!"
<Franceska> "Oh? How do they taste?"
<El-Cideon> "*I* did not eat them!" Rosemund says, adding proudly, "I had a salad."
<Franceska> "The food that food eats," Franceska muses. "Oh, very well. If this plane is not for me, what is the right one, then?"
<@Julia> "The one your house is on?" Julia hazards.
<El-Cideon> "I have always been very satisfied with the one that we live on," Rosemund says. "And yes, if you have lived there for so long yourself, it must be doing something right for you."
<Franceska> "But eventually I will grow wrinkled and old, and then die, and then end up here," Franceska says quite reasonably. "It doesn't sound like good long-term planning."
<El-Cideon> "I am sure that if you spend enough time away from this place, you will grow apart from it and end up...somewhere else," Rosemund protests vaguely, looking to Julia for agreement.
* Franceska looks towards Julia as well.
<@Julia> "I'm sure there are other methods of immortality than the one I'm using. Maybe look into that?" Julia suggests.
<El-Cideon> "Gods are pretty good at not dying, usually," Crier says, "maybe look into being one of those?"
<Franceska> "Fair enough." Franceska turns back towards Rosemund, and asks, "Would you like to come live on Astral with me at some point? I'm sure it would be very nice, if the godhood path does not prove viable."
<El-Cideon> "Let us just consider that *one* option?" Rosemund suggests helpfully.
<Franceska> "Of course. I will procure a house there as well, but nothing too fancy or elaborate."
<El-Cideon> ~