The pit (Muirfinn and Lief)

[Anastasia]

Lief stands. You are in a vast, shadowed hall and on a cold stone floor. The walls stretch higher than you can see, no ceiling in sight. In spite of that, you feel trapped, a sense of claustrophobia constantly creeping into your awareness. The walls are decorated with massive paintings of diabolical scenes, each one moving and showing its subjects in action. There are no windows nor any sign of illumination. There is simply enough light to see by with no apparent source. 

90ft away kneel two familiar figures - Prince Lixer and the Duke of Destiny. They kneel before a throne that sits on a raised dais, covered in shadows. Sitting on that throne is a creature, no larger than a human and looking much like one. He wears robes of impossible refinement woven with countless jewels, a red scepter sitting on his lap to go with it. He has a neatly trimmed goatee. His expression is serene, eyes like coal calmly surveying all those who kneel before him.

Besides the throne kneel nine pit fiends. Nessians by the size, each one carrying a dragon's scale like a shield. The lead one stands, carrying a red scale shield. He booms in an overwhelming, horrible voice, "KNEEL BEFORE THE KING OF HELL, WORMS! OFFER TRIBUTE TO THE LORD OF THE NINTH!"

Will saves. Mind-affecting but penetrates immunity. If you are immune, you gain a +9 bonus to the saving throw.

[Yuthirin]

Muirfinn struggles valiantly to remain stoic.

[18:32] <Yuthirin> roll 1d20+9+31+6 so much for Medi being better than everyone else
[18:32] <Serith> Yuthirin roll for Serith < 61 >12 [d20=15]

[Iron Dragoon]

OOC:
> roll 1d20+24-6+4 Will Save
<Serith> Iddy roll for Serith < 35 > [d20=13]

[Anastasia]

Lief finds himself unable to move, the thought of doing anything but kneeling impossible. Muirfinn somehow manages to resist. All he wants to do is pay homage, but he keeps his will and mind intact. He can rise, speak and act if he wishes.

Before you, all the other devils grovel before the Lord of the Ninth. "Father," Lixer looks up  and breaks this silent worship, "I desire these two as recompense for Castle Crumbling."

At this the Duke of Destiny looks up, a pause as he meets eyes with the Lord of the Ninth. He rises, "Your Majesty, destiny has already dictated who shall own these souls. Lord Bel's claim is worthy, but destiny supports Prince Lixer. Other souls in Aurora are fated to pass into the Lord of the First's hands, but not these two."

Lixer rises as Taelfagn does, "Yes, give them to me." His voice is cold as death, a chill coming to both of you. "The child of Titania can be made into a blight that will sicken the World Tree, while the tortle will poison the oceans."

Chance to react or do anything if you want, since Muirfinn passed the save.

[Yuthirin]

Quick check: I'm assuming it's very very very clear that we're before Asmodeus?

[Anastasia]

It sure looks that way. Lixer and Taelfagn are kneeling before him. Feel free to make an K:P check here for more info.

[Yuthirin]

[20:22] <Yuthirin> roll 1d20+22 KP
[20:22] <Serith> Yuthirin roll for Serith < 30 >12 [d20=8]

I'm sure the DC on this is relatively low.

[Anastasia]

It's the real thing, or at least a really good fake.

[Yuthirin]

Well then.

Muirfinn eyes Lixer and Taelfagn with only a hint of disdain. A moment later, his gaze returns to the reclining figure on the throne. He stows his glowing staff, dismissing the faerie flames with a thought. He regards the scene a moment before rising to address Asmodeus himself.

Edited content to reflect events occurring immediately.

[Anastasia]

I presume to step forward you stand up, as is logical.

The moment Muirfinn tries to rise, an overwhelming force floods his entire body. The Lord of the Ninth has not moved a hair, yet Muirfinn can feel his presence around him, on him, overwhelming him. It is like an ocean around him and he is but a drop of water.

Will save. Good luck.

[Yuthirin]

At work, requesting roll.

[Anastasia]

> roll 1d20+9+31+6 goodluck tortle
<Serith> Kowork roll for Serith < 62 > [d20=16]

As one may be able to guess, you needed a 20.

Muirfinn tries to rise, but he fails. He falls to his knees as his body is not his own. He prostrates himself before the Lord of the Ninth, perfectly still.

"No," Asmodeus has a commanding voice, quiet and yet assured. It is compelling, enrapturing. "Muirfinn resisted Aesmadeva's command. Such a will is mine." Muirfinn rises up, as if held by the neck, and flies over to dangle before Asmodeus. He leans forward and meets Muirfinn's eyes...

> roll 1d20+9+31+6 goodluck tortle x2
<Serith> Kowork roll for Serith < 65 > [d20=19]

In one moment, all Muirfinn is lies exposed. Every thought, notion, desire and impulse is read as if he is a book. There is the faintest contact with something overwhelming, leaving his mind reeling and shattered. His gaze settles on his clan and children - gone. Ripped away, lost from him. Crusade...cr...something. Something important. The image of a songstress, calling you a brave hero...? Was that once something...? You can't remember.

You are paralyzed but able to speak. You have suffered 9 points of vile ability damage to all three mental ability scores.

[Iron Dragoon]

OOC: Well, I was going to say something to Muirfinn, but not after this roll:
> roll 1d20+24-6+4 Will Save
<Serith> Iddy roll for Serith < 23 > [d20=1]

[Anastasia]

Lief tries to speak, to say something. But nothing happens, his mouth refusing to move.

[Yuthirin]

Muirfinn lies there on the floor. "Well...that was hardly sporting."