Intro: Koriand'r, Ihliel, Aella

[Bjorn]

Tuck.

The name was once a momentous one, one to be proclaimed, fawned upon, dropped in conversation, and above all else, a name to be feared.  The mightiest of all the Hellish generals, his realm was so vast that even in the infinite reaches of the Netherworld his borders pressed hard upon his neighbours.  Of Tuck himself, demons spoke but little. When they did, it was only to utter the pinnacle of praise:  "he was the strongest."

And then came the War.  

As did all the generals, Tuck went to war.  As befits the strongest general alive -- indeed, possibly that ever had lived -- he as the only general who returned.  He ensconed himself again in his fortress of Nnoht H'inkg.  The whispers that slowly spread out, however, were different.  Something had happened to Tuck in the War.  Perhaps he had come back, but, somehow, not quite all of him.

Eventually, the inevitable happened, and an enterprising demon took control of a fief on the far outskirts of Tuck's domain.  While the rest of the Netherworld watched, holding their breath, Tuck... did nothing.  No war of reconquest, no assassins, not even a message.  Thus ended the empire of Tuck, as bit by bit his territory and vassals were gobbled up by increasingly confident new upstarts.

Nnoht H'ingk still stands untouched, however, and Tuck is still known as a general, for the days of his power are not that far in the past.  That lingering aura still draws ambitious demons, hoping to climb to glory.

Such as yourself.

You crossed the blasted, ashen fields which have always formed the heart of Tuck's domains (fields, it is whispered, that were fertile and lush before Tuck saw fit to punish an incompetent).  For you, the tiny Servant's Gate in the moutain-cliff walls were opened, and Tuck's majordomo haughtily accepted you into service.

Since then, you've had little to do but wander about the labyrinthine halls, admiring smoke-stained, worn tapestries covering dusty stone and relaxing in the occasional weed-infested garden.  You've never met Tuck.  In fact, in your time here, you haven't seen anyone since you were greeted into service....

Feel free to make a few posts to establish yourself into the setting.  The action will begin shortly.

[Corwin]

Kory floated down one of the great fortress's many passageways, lazily covering a yawn with the back of her hand. It had seemed such a good idea at the time -- sneak away when no one was looking, and find a better place to live. Somewhere she wouldn't have to train in the use of all those boring weapons, or study fighting styles from stuffy, old scrolls. And that was without mentioning the armor her trainers insisted she use, which never failed to give her mental hives. It clashed too much with her sense of fashion, besides being clunky and annoying.

And yet, at least she had something to do, then! And she had others around. Arrogant know-it-alls who made her do boring stuff, granted, but still. Instead, she was all alone in this decaying fortress, and no closer to her goal of becoming an elite court jester than she was before she ran away decided to move on from her old prison home.

Come to think of it, where was the chief steward guy?

Resisting the urge to hit her head against the wall, Kory muttered, "I wish something would happen, even if it'll probably be nasty and hazardous."

[Trunkyboy]

Ihliel continues slowly scratching some of the stubborn weeds that infest all of Tuck's gardens.  The majordomo hadn't assigned him a specific job, so he had taken that task upon himself.  He had decided that the gardens could perhaps be restored to their former glory, but first they all needed a very good weeding.   Sitting back on his hunches, Ihliel decides that a break is in order.  Standing up, he begins shuffling lacklusterly down the many halls of the keep, a bunch of weeds in his broken-clawed thin hand.  His eyes are dull and glazed over as he mostly stares at the ground.

He has an air of being down-trodden surrounding him, but perhaps that could change in the future?  A dark glint shines in his eyes for a second, before disappearing completey once more.

[Bjorn]

Dramatic necessity suggests that two strangers, about to meet for the first time before becoming players in a vast, world-sweeping adventure, should meet, under these circumstances, by running into each other.  Unfortunately, dramatic necessity only occasionally has to deal with Nnoht Hing'k, which features uncooperatively long corridors with only occasional intersections, and Ihliel and Koriand'r's first catch sight of each other at a good fifty feet of each other, walking towards each other.

[Corwin]

Kory abruptly comes to a halt, and blinks twice, owlishly, at the demon ahead of her. When he doesn't disappear, a large smile appears on her face, and she waves at the demon cheerfully, floating in his direction once more.

[Trunkyboy]

Ihliel gives a start, jumping a good, oh, half foot in the air, and dropping his handful of weeds.  He idmediately flushes, a sight that seems almost regular occurence on his face, before dropping to his knees and and begins scrabbling for the weeds on the floor.

[Corwin]

"Hi!" Kory enthusiastically greets the flushed demon. "Are you new here?"

[Bjorn]

"You are both new here," says a cultured, urbane voice behind Koriand'r.

A cultured, urbane voice that apparentl issues from something that would presumably be an intimidating muscled humanoid figure if wasn't covered in so many spikes and horns that it looks instead like a gothic crossbreed of a knight in armour and a particularly jumpy blowfish.  Despite its size, it had somehow come up, apparently, both quickly and quietly down that long hallways.

[Corwin]

Kory turns around, hands clasped in front of her, and she beams at the muscled porcupine. "Hi!" she greets again. "So we are! And I don't know about your gardener over there, but I'm ready and eager to serve!"

[Bjorn]

"Are you?"  The spiked thing sounds surprised at that.  "How very odd."

"What's more odd," says the same voice, this time coming from behind Ihliel, "is that I was was supposed to find the orange one, and I was supposed to find the weedy one."

[Corwin]

"I prefer Kory," she says, not losing her smile. "Or Koriand'r, for more formal occasions. But I am orange, so I guess you found me!"

[Bjorn]

"I found you," says the spikey demon, somewhat sharply.  "And I found the other one, too, and I don't see what my problem is."

[Corwin]

Kory looks around, puzzled, trying to figure out exactly how many others there are in the corridor with her.

[Bjorn]

Behind Ihliel is... the gothic crossbreed of a knight in armour and a particularly jumpy blowfish.  Or, rather, a crossbreed of etc etc, given that there's another one standing right behind Koriand'r.

Ignoring the two demons standing between them, the latest arrival sniffs.  "The problem is that I'm wasting my time," he sneers.  

The first of the spikey demons shakes his head sadly.  "And now I'm wasting my time, too.  Why don't I just take them to the throne room, and then I can stop complaining?"

[Corwin]

"I asked, and I received," Kory mutters to herself. "This is wicked cool!" Keeping her hands clasped, she leans against a wall so that she could keep all three demons and any new arrivals in sight, and waits for the spikey ones to start leading to the throne room.