Chosen of Hell

[Angry Pacifist]

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”We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell”

Malfeas

The harsh emerald light of Ligier glints off the towers of brass in the usually hectic demon city of Malfeas as it does every day, but today is no ordinary day. It is the last day of Calibration, but the day is stranger still. Today the Ebon Dragon has taken a bride.

Throughout the city there is mass festival full of joy and happiness at this amazing news. True; all demons have been ordered to feel joy and happiness to help celebrate the nuptials on pain of death, but as this is the first day in their thousands of years of captivity where demons are free to ignore the commands of any but the Unquestionable this pleasure is seldom feigned.

On this strangest of days, the first five Infernal Exalted have gone to take in the sights.

* * *

The Black Knight is momentarily stopped short by a massive pile of ‘treasure’ in one of Malfeas’s squares, which he can’t help but examine. The term treasure can only be used loosely because it has somehow gotten passed around that in Creation, where the Ebon Dragon’s bride is said to have come from, it’s custom to give gifts to a married couple when they wed.

So at every plaza and open space in Malfeas, demons have massing together great piles of their own personal possessions to give to the married couple. Some few pieces of it are valuable, from demons with power there are artefacts of great worth but these are few. A scrap of bright blue wool from Creation, a stone worn into a fluid shape by Kimberry’s acid or a goat skull are more typical treasures for the average first circle demon.

Distracted by this strange pile of objects it takes the Black Knight a moment to notice a that a child sized grasshopper-like demon, an Aalu, is hopping about in a way that suggests it wants his attention.

“Excuse me, I have orders to request your presence...”

* * *

In an alleyway, Arai Mosaka is discovering what it means to sing and dance in Malfear. He’s seeing merely the tail end of the Ebon Dragon’s miles long wedding procession, but it is something amazing to behold.

Normally lumbering brutish demons like Blood Apes dance as gracefully as any trained mortal dancer, claw fingered Anglyakae draw forth beautiful and horrendous music from the very air itself while above them all dances Stanewald, Reflective Soul of the Ravine of Whispers. Every move she makes sends cracks rippling and cracking through the street around her and already some buildings look like they might fall, crushing hundreds.

Still, with the way she dances that might be almost enough to risk. Almost everything with a soul and many things without would be brought to tears by her dance and Arai is having to concentrate to make sure these unnatural feelings don’t subvert his will. So busy is he concentrating that it take shim by surprise when a stout dwarvish Heranhal, a leather apron of unknown origin around his waist, taps him on the leg.

“Your majesty," it says with a look of intense concentration as it struggles to resist Stanewald's influence, "One of the demon lords has requested your presence…”

* * *

“It’s Gaia, returned to join forces with our masters to make up for our treachery. She’ll lead us into Creation!”

“Fool, she betrayed us and left us here to rot. It’s got to be a great Akuma, some ancient old Solar that’s come out of hiding. Who else would a Yozi consider equal? A normal human? Hah!”

“I’ve a different theory. Several hundred years before the War of Betrayal, the Primordial Gilgatha-Ra retreated from Creation without giving a reason. She was always a firm ally of the Ebon Dragon and it’s said that she’d return. Why in Mancible’s History of Ancient Time’s it’s said that.-“

“THESE ARE THINGS KNOWN ONLY TO THE YOZIS.”

The discussion between the lesser demons that Uviroth is listening in to as they talk about who the Ebon Bride could be is suddenly caught short by the appearance of one of the eyes of Orabilis appearing above them. Bolts of purple light strike each of the half-dozen demons that was taking part in the conversation, who are each suddenly flung high into the sky, far beyond the sight of even Exalted, where they will burn like a star in the void between layers of Malfeas until they’re extinguished forever.

Yet more demons have been found guilty of breaching the limits of wisdom that Cecelyne imposes and every demon in the vicinity scatters, aside from a lone Agata which half hops and half flies over to Uviroth.

“Through one of their sub-ordinate souls, a Yozi requests your presence immediately...”

* * *

Swift Killing Frost has found a little slice of heaven to enjoy this time in hell. Amalion the Manse of Echoes Ascending is the soul of Malfeas dedicated to beauty and on each layer of Malfeos he will take the form of a wonder pleasure manse, which she is only too happy to take advantage of.

So Swift Killing frost sits on a balcony surrounded by plants made of silver and gold with a pure waterfall trickling slowly somewhere behind her. From her vantage point she can look down on the demon city and see all the chaos and madness from afar without getting involved; until a Gethin suddenly scampers into the room.

The lizard creature looking about curiously at this strange room before focusing on the Infernal.

“Gotta come with me. Orders from the Most High.”

* * *

Tanin is disconcerted to find that he’s stumbled into the middle of a demonic orgy and isn’t quite sure how to extradite himself. This isn’t normal sex, the crude rutting of humans and other animals, this is the sex of the Eltrao, first circle demons descended from Elloge. Armless humanoids, reproduction for them is more like a free-style poetry jam and dance mixture as they come together in large groups to recite poetry and sway back and forth at a massive basalt rock until it cracks open in a mass of bile to reveal a new born Eltrao.

So although less embarrassing then it could have been, Tanin is getting some [i]weird looks from about fifty demons which he finds a bit offputting. Thankfully, a large claw gently clips onto his sleeve as a Tinsiana, one of the Scorpion Demons, carefully leads him through the dancing bodies without further incedent.

“Got to take you. Orders. Not from me. From Big Boss. Please don’t kill me.”

* * *

Separately each Infernal is lead to the great forge of Marilion, one of the First Circle souls of the Ebon Dragon. Usually the sounds of hammer on metal, hammer on flesh and cries of anguish would ring the air, but today the demons are free to enjoy the Ebon Wedding.

With little explanation beyond being summoned by this great power of the demon realm, you are lead through his flint fortress and then left in a large empty hall where a lone oversized throne sits at the end on a raised tier with brass pews arrayed facing it like you’d find in some kind of temple.

Etchings of great events in the history of the Yozis are etched on the walls, as well as basic schematics for great and powerful artefacts. Lighting the room is a large grey gem that hangs from the ceiling by a silver chain, casting a dull light that barely serves to illuminate the room.

Welcome to Chosen of Hell. You have each been summoned to the keep of Marilon, Eidolon of Shadow, Fourth Soul of the Ebon Dragon. You have a room set out to meet Marilon but he hasn’t arrived yes (How rude considering he’s the one who dragged you there!), so perhaps this is a good time to chit-chat and get a feel for RPing with the rest of the group...

Posting Format

Character name- Location if different from the others

In-character text is typed normally.

Out of character text, such as "Swinging my longsword" or "Casting a spell," or any other OOC discussion happens in spoiler tags. Roll your own dice and SEPERATLY roll 3d10s to represent possible stunt dice (So if you are doing a dramatic action which you have 10 dice on, roll your ten dice and then below that roll the stunt dice). As I hope there’ll be plenty of stunts, having the dice pre-rolled will let me just add the appropriate bonus to the roll straight away and I’ll let you know what you got so you can regain essence/etc as applicable.

I had to reject a lot of people for this campaign, so I want you guys to be active! Please post as often as you can and I’ll do the same. I’m not asking for it to be day in day out like a machine, but if you can’t consistently post in a 48 hour period then I will get a little worried. Please throw in your physical description in your first post to make it easier for the group to picture you.

[Incendius]

Arai Mosaka

As the Green Sun Princes pile one by one into the room, Mosaka finds himself studying the histories on the wall. Mosaka is a man of medium height, with jet black hair that hangs down to his shoulders. His build is slight, that of a person that does little physical exertion. He wears carnelian robes accentuated with golden engravings of swirling flame on its sleeves. His blue eyes squinted as they read in the darkened room, and a look of concentration adorns his face.

Continuing his study for a few minutes, Mosaka finally turns around to address his companions and breaks the silence with a small monologue of idle musing. "So have you been enjoying the sights of Malfeas, my friends? I have found it to be quite interesting. It it a bit more roughneck than most parts of Yu-Shan. But there is a beauty here as well, in a primal sort of way. I witnessed the most engaging performance earlier, a procession of dancers with such grace that its viewers were enchanted. Did you have any such experiences yourselves?"

[Ganurath]

Uviroth

"I've been eavesdropping on the rumor mill myself." Uviroth brushed some white strands of hair out of her face as she turned her attention to her fellow Defiler. She had been examining her peers and her surroundings with narrow eyes, although her expression was less of caution and more of dissonant serenity. "I happened to catch a few serfs speculating on the identity of the mystery bride. My discovery was soon repeated by Orabilis, with predictably violent results."

[garter_snake]

done.

The Black Knight

Clad in Soulsteel Armor, The Black Knight gazed with burning emerald eyes, the only features of his face visible through the helm, around the rest of the room. "What a waste. These forges could be put to use arming the soldiers for glorious battle, but today they are empty and silent. Every moment spent preparing the armies for their return to Creation is vital."

The Black Knight then notices the other people in the room. "My pardon. I allowed my frustration with the situation to get ahead of my manners. I am The Black Knight, Chosen of Malfeas. I was called here by the orders of some unknown personage. Does anyone know the situation?"

[Cocomonk3]

Tanin

For a man so clearly linked to the seas of the West, Tanin looks more like a Southerner. Dark-skinned, with untidy black hair swept back into a ponytail and a well-trimmed beard. He has the body of a sailor though, tall lean and muscular, and is dressed in a manner similar to the pirates of Lintha. And of course, a giant jade axe on his back. He lets out a whistle as he looks over the room, and lifts a hand to run over his ponytail as he turns to address the rest of the group in a surprisingly cultured Old Realm. "A few demons creating more of themselves in their own way. In honesty, I find this place much more intruiging."

[Incendius]

Arai Mosaka

After he listens to Uviroth's response, Mosaka's face adopts a contemplative look as he tilts his head up and thinks out loud. "Hmm. That brings up a good point. I wonder what our limitations for knowledge are. Certainly higher than a serf's, but by how much? I must remember to ask about this." Looking toward Uviroth, Mosaka comments. "Though, I must admit curiosity towards the bride as well. I cannot recall an event like this from the histories I have read."

Turning to address the Black Knight's query, Mosaka reponds. "I am afraid that I am as left in the dark as you are." Mosaka coughs. "Forgive the pun. If I had to guess, I would say we are soon to be given our first tasks. We have been given a short time to adjust to our new abilities, and the wedding seems like an auspicious time for the Reclamation to begin. I hope that is the case at least, I admit to a desire to test my new powers."

Nodding to Tanin's comment, Mosaka replies. "I can see how you would feel that way. This is certainly an amazing construction." Mosaka directs his gaze towards all the disparate etchings before finishing. "Though if I may say so, this is only one of the wonders of Malfeas. The streets might not be particularly interesting to you, but I have no doubt that one could spend a mortal lifetime finding new and wondrous places here."

[Ganurath]

Uviroth

"Orabilis said that said the matters the serfs were contemplating were things only meant to be known to the Yozis, so I imagine the bride's identity is taboo to us as well." The scholarly woman glances toward the black knight, giving him a quizzical expression. "As for why we were ordered here, I was told that the order came from a Yozi through a subordinate soul. Last I checked, an order from a Yozi is sufficient cause in itself."

[Ifni]

Swift Killing Frost

Earlier:
The Scourge sits motionless on the balcony, crystal tears gleaming on her cheekbones like droplets from the waterfall that murmurs softly behind her. Her lips are curved in a smile, sharp and brilliant as a new-forged blade. Her eyes drink in the loveliness of the scene, the pure cold glittering beauty of the gold and silver plants.

The chaos in the streets below does not touch her, but now and again her eyes track a particular act of celebration, a parade, a dance. Occasionally she catches her breath, in revulsion or wonder or excitement or unbelieving delight. But she does not speak, and silence surrounds her like a depthless pool of calm water, or the soft folds of a velvet cloak.

In silence, the heart's solitude, lies peace - and death. In beauty, the heart's joy, lies pain - and glory. This new world, or at least this corner of it, understands both silence and beauty well enough, it seems. But in love... she does not know what this wedding means, what betrayals it may presage, and it both intrigues her and sends a trailing finger of cold down her spine, a formless foreboding.

When the lizard-creature enters the room and speaks, it takes a moment before she reacts. A moment to mourn the broken silence, a moment to savor the memory of beauty before its loss. Then she rises, graceful as the wind, and stillness extends smoothly into motion as she flashes across the room and nods to the creature. In a whisper that barely stirs the air she replies, "Lead on, then."

Now:
Frost has circled the room twice before Mosaka speaks, her crystal-blue eyes wide and wondering in her slender face as she examines the etchings on the walls. She is a lightly built and graceful woman, appearing to be twenty or so, with skin as smooth and pale as ivory, and straight silky shoulder-length black hair. Her fingers are unusually long, and they silently tap an irregular staccato rhythm against each other, apparently unconsciously. She wears a simple shirt and trousers, more practical than pretty, under a breastplate of iridescent dark metal; the shifting patterns in its shimmering depths hint at sorrowful faces. Coils of silver metal wrap around her forearms, and a massive hammer rests on her back, its protean silver surface gleaming like oil on water.

As the others speak, she turns to her fellow Green Sun Princes, although she seems content to listen, at least at first. She regards them with intense interest, as if she is memorizing their features, although of course they are not strangers to each other. As she listens, she seems unable to find a place or stance she is comfortable with; she moves in swift bursts from spot to spot, examining the room and its inhabitants from different angles. She nods very slightly at the Black Knight's comment on the forges standing silent, but when the marriage is discussed, she looks away, back to the etchings on the walls.

After a few minutes of this, she moves closer to the group, and smiles brilliantly around at the others, her gaze lingering on each of them in turn. Her eyes glitter with eager excitement, but when she speaks, leaning toward Mosaka, her voice is little more than a whisper, cool and emotionless and calm. Her Old Realm, while fluent, carries the accents of the North. "I could surely spend a lifetime rejoicing in the myriad beauties of this place. There is a manse where the flowers grow gold and silver, and dreams sing in silence above the falling water." And I would like to learn to dance enchantment. She shifts restlessly, taking a half-step back, even that small motion graceful. "But there is a world out there waiting for us, too." Despite the dispassion of her whispering voice, her smile softens, becoming warm and wistful. Malfeas is beautiful, full of wonders and glories, but Creation needs her. "I wonder where they will send us, and whether we shall be dispatched together or alone? I was told only that the Most High had ordered it."

[garter_snake]

"It seems none of us have been told of our mission, then. Very well. But I will not stand still while there is work to be done." The Black Knight walks over to the forge and begins examining it. Pulling a ingot of iron from its shelf, The Black Knight throws it into the forge to begin the heating process, than grabs a hammer and waits for the iron to glow red hot.

[Incendius]

Arai Mosaka

Mosaka's gaze tracks the Black Knight as he heads towards the forge. Shrugging almost imperceptibly, he turns his attention back to the others. Mosaka's voice rejoins the musing. "I am curious as to who the Most High refers to in this regard. I usually associate that term with a personage that I very much doubt has any involvement in our affairs. Being as it is a title given to one who rules over the others, I would normally say Malfeas. However, the unquestionable whose sanctum we repose in belongs to The Ebon Dragon, so I can't be certain. Where we are going and what we are doing would vary much between which one we are about to speak to."

[Cocomonk3]

Tanin

"I was told the Big Boss ordered it. I assume that means Malfeas, He Who Is King. Or perhaps the little demon simply couldn't comprehend who had ordered it." Tanin watches as the Black Knight moves to the forge, idly wondering if he will be struck down for the impertinence of toying with the forge of another. To the graceful one (once he appears to notice her presence) he directs his next words, though his dark eyes do not stray from the Black Knight worthy foe. "Not only another world out there, one that is rightfully ours to reclaim in Their name. Which we should not forget."

[Ifni]

Swift Killing Frost

Frost lowers her eyelashes and looks out from beneath them at Tanin. "Ours to reclaim, yes, and to restore, and remake anew in Their image. Being what we are, how might we forget?" Her whispering voice seems utterly sincere, without any hint of duplicity or mockery, but its sheer sweetness almost itself suggests sarcasm. And perhaps for a moment, there is the slightest hint of an aftertaste hidden in the sweetness, an undertone of bitterness - but so faint, it might be merely imagined.

"While we wait, Tanin mek Alaya, would you perhaps care to speak of your former home? I have known only a glimpse of the North." Although not as it should be, not white and wild and silent beneath Her timeless twisting winds. She falls silent, content to listen for now: the others' too-loud voices grate against her senses, but she takes pleasure in glimpsing the workings of their thoughts, or at least what they choose to display. They intrigue her, these other chosen of the Yozis.

[Ganurath]

Uviroth ponders Mosaka's analysis of the situation, and part of her can't help but think it to be... Inaccurate. Yes, which Yozi briefed them would impact what the mission would be, the the five of them wouldn't have been selected for just any operation. Their abilities and Urges would lend clues as well... The mission would be hard-hitting and violent, considering the lack of Malefactors and Fiends. Mosaka's presence suggested an involvement of the gods in some degree, while her own hinted at Lunars... But then, not everything matched up. Tanin's presence hinted at a coastal operation, while Frost's Urge focused exclusively on landlocked Whitewall. For now, she'd be content to listen and wonder.

[Ifni]

Swift Killing Frost

Frost smiles tentatively at Uviroth as she waits to see if Tanin will reply, finding the other woman's silence companionable. There is no impatience in her stance or expression; she finds it pleasant, soothing even, to be in the company of others who neither speak much nor seem to expect her speech. Although the setting could be improved, in her opinion: this room is strangely dull to be favored by a Great One. Utilitarian, and plain. Does a subtler beauty lie hidden in the echoes of the light from the walls? Are there mind-splintering secrets concealed in the details of the etchings? She steps absently to the side, half-spinning in a dancer's step as she regards the walls, although her gaze flickers quickly back to Tanin, Uviroth and Mosaka.

[Cocomonk3]

"Which former home would that be? The South, where I was born, or the blight on Creation that is Wavecrest?" Tanin smiles at that, but it's not a nice smile in the slightest. He shows his teeth, at the least, and at least he hasn't gone the route of sharpening those as some Lintha do. Arms crossed over his chest, he continues. "In that place, you would not be allowed to choose your path, your sex chooses it for you. As a woman, your place would be to stay on the land, mind the home of your husband. And to raise his children, so that they could go out and create more children, continue the cycle. Of course, if you wanted to explore the oceans, it's just a matter of sterilizing yourself and forsaking the company of men, and all but declaring yourself a man." His words almost drip with venom.

[Incendius]

"While that is a mostly accurate description of life in Wavecrest, if a bit vitriolic, it doesn't really address why. It is important to know that the sociological repression of women is not due to internal pressures, but rather external pressures that mandated a land based role for women. A race of ferociously ugly female elementals, called Storm Mothers, reside in the western ocean. They resent and hate women more beautiful than they are; which is just about everyone. Since the collapse of the Shogunate, they have had nearly free reign to indulge their hate. So any ship carrying women is in danger of being attacked by a powerful elemental, which usually ends up sinking the ship. The tradition of the Tya, the sterilized and masculine women, has arisen as a sort of compromise where since all of society treats them as men, so the Storm Mothers do as well." Mosaka lectures in a dry voice as he demonstrates his extensive academic knowledge.

[Ganurath]

"It is easier to repress and mutilate women than to beat discipline into elementals." Uviroth glances toward the door as she speaks, the conversations of lands beyond the Isle making her feel a touch out of place. "Which one is easier doesn't always define the best response, though, just the easier response. It sounds to me like the Storm Mothers are an excuse for the culture rather than an explanation. The true 'why' for the culture is Wavecrest's submission to the Storm Mother's disruption of the proper order."

[garter_snake]

The iron grew hot, and The Black Knight removs it from the forge and begins banging it into shape with the hammer. Lacking any training in smithing, The Black Knight's hammer blows only succeed in reducing the ingot to a long, flat strip of metal. Emerald eyes glare at the useless strip furiously. “This is taking TOO LONG. Whoever sent for us will be here soon to give us our mission.”

The Black Knight grabs the strip of metal and plunges it, still holding on, into the white-hot coals of the forge. The extreme temperature quickly causes the iron to soften and begin melting, but the soulsteel gauntlets of Fortress of Forsaken Memories heats at a slower pace. Removing the soft metal from the forge, The Black Knight twists an end though it were taffy, forming a one-foot long spiral ending in a sharp point. Plunging the pointed end into a nearby tub of water, it solidifies as steam rises in The Black Knight's face. Undeterred, gauntlet-ed hands grasp the bottom of the head of the point and the other end of the ingot, pulling until the metal stretches into a five-foot haft. After dunking the whole weapon in water again, The Black Knight lifts up the lance and examines it.



Stunting to make a mundane lance. Crafting rules pg 133 core. TLDR TBK needs 1 success and a 1 die stunt to make the lance, as well as the ST ruling that this stunt shortens the crafting time. Otherwise this action will fail.

Essence (Malfeas) Triumphant: 2 motes, 1 success. rational: TBK is pissed off at waiting and bending white hot metal into shape using only gauntlets, a brute-force approach.

lowest of perception/int/dex+craft(fire)
[roll0]
+1 success essence triumphant

stunt dice
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]

[Ifni]

Swift Killing Frost

Frost goes still and tense at Tanin's response to her question, eyes fixed on the other Prince. Clearly a nerve struck, there. Pain, and bitterness, and caring - for cool dispassion never hurt so much. He serves Kimbery, Frost knows, just as she herself does, and his words reflect Her truths. She inclines her head to him in wordless respect, before the two Defilers' words send her thoughts down another path.

"It seems always easy, for those who make the negotiations and set the rules, to decree sacrifices that affect them not at all." Still cool and calm, her voice, but bitterness lurks in her eyes and the twist of her mouth. "It is like that in Whitewall, as well. And once the rules have been decided, they become tradition and culture and the way things are done, and few of those who hold power even see the injustice anymore." She shudders suddenly, and spins away, the flash of violent movement releasing the tension building in her stance.

She stops for a moment as her eyes catch on the forge, staring into the white-hot glow of the metal the Black Knight holds. She exhales softly, and then turns back to the conversation with the others.

[Cocomonk3]

Tanin

"The Sea Mothers... pfah." Tanin turns as if to spit on te ground, but pauses a second. Rethinks. This is the sanctum of one powerful, and angering them before they have even met.. not the wisest choice. Instead he simply draws in a long breath between his teeth and tries to quell the anger at the thought of Wavecrest. It could not be more obvious that he holds no love for his former home. "It is the place of mortals to accept the world for how it is. The sea has one Mother, and it is not some pathetic little spirit thing." And his anger is roused again, and the other Slayer starts to pace. Impatience is in their souls, it seems.