The conversation sparked an idea within Meris' mind, and she frowned thoughtfully in Gabriel's direction. "This obviously can't be implemented with every angel or demon, but what if some could be placed with human counsellors or therapists? You say that mortals helped to instill some of the less than noble aspects in your brethren; would it be possible to do the same in that way?" she asked. "In a way, some of these angels that will be arriving here will be experiencing a culture shock of sorts. There almost needs to be some sort of immersion program to aid those who aren't just going to go toward full-Fall mode, the moderates, if you will."
"I have no doubt that it'll be difficult to handle at first, but it could pay off with less Fallen," she mused.
Chapter V - Brimstone
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
Archie bounced off of Meris' suggestion. "This is already the Vienna Council's purview. I daresay its local arms will waste no time in dispatching everything from anthropologists to clinical psychologists, as least as soon as they can afford to do so without exposing these men and women to undue risks."
Three seemed to agree. "At least, we've options now, in case one or more of them pulls a Screw you, we don't need your cognitive behavioral bullshit. I think they'll pay attention, with people like Rhadamantus and Akaios having supernatural influence over the American legal system."
Leonard's eyes glinted eerily. "If not, they'll have my new clients to contend with. I'd like to see your haughty and unrepentant friends, Gabriel, once I expose them to something as small as this island's sample size of restless dead. Justice will not be swept aside."
The Archangel smirked at that. "I was counting on that, to be honest. Are you still in contact with Alphonse Biggs?
- Thankfully, no," replied the goat with a small smile. "I wasn't up to discussing a dead mobster's moral sacrifices after our stint in the Spire and I still am not. He seemed nice - a sort of overweight and see-through James Cagney - but I'll want to spend time on the side of legal rectitude, once this blows over. I've got a palate to cleanse of decades' worth of bad habits and..."
He paused. "...and possibly, a family to rebuild. Thomas only spoke to me once I started showing symptoms of possession. He had a hard time accepting my own sacrifices. I suppose it's easier to stick to legal and moral rectitude from the law office to the bar exam when you're partially bankrolled by a dragon..."
He shook his head. "I can't fault him for it. Cody Tanner is ten times the man I'll ever be or ever have been, and he makes working Pro bono look like an offhand compliment or something quirky you do for the fun of it. I used to love my job; he's older than I am by thousands of years and has worse legs, and he looks like someone grafted the Civil, Penal and Criminal Codes to his brain hemispheres at birth. He lives and breathes it. I just-"
The goat paused. "I just gave it my best shot."
Three seemed to agree. "At least, we've options now, in case one or more of them pulls a Screw you, we don't need your cognitive behavioral bullshit. I think they'll pay attention, with people like Rhadamantus and Akaios having supernatural influence over the American legal system."
Leonard's eyes glinted eerily. "If not, they'll have my new clients to contend with. I'd like to see your haughty and unrepentant friends, Gabriel, once I expose them to something as small as this island's sample size of restless dead. Justice will not be swept aside."
The Archangel smirked at that. "I was counting on that, to be honest. Are you still in contact with Alphonse Biggs?
- Thankfully, no," replied the goat with a small smile. "I wasn't up to discussing a dead mobster's moral sacrifices after our stint in the Spire and I still am not. He seemed nice - a sort of overweight and see-through James Cagney - but I'll want to spend time on the side of legal rectitude, once this blows over. I've got a palate to cleanse of decades' worth of bad habits and..."
He paused. "...and possibly, a family to rebuild. Thomas only spoke to me once I started showing symptoms of possession. He had a hard time accepting my own sacrifices. I suppose it's easier to stick to legal and moral rectitude from the law office to the bar exam when you're partially bankrolled by a dragon..."
He shook his head. "I can't fault him for it. Cody Tanner is ten times the man I'll ever be or ever have been, and he makes working Pro bono look like an offhand compliment or something quirky you do for the fun of it. I used to love my job; he's older than I am by thousands of years and has worse legs, and he looks like someone grafted the Civil, Penal and Criminal Codes to his brain hemispheres at birth. He lives and breathes it. I just-"
The goat paused. "I just gave it my best shot."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
"That's all anyone can do," Meris reminded him, her gaze belying her own queenly yet timeworn wisdom.
"Even the most stalwart and good-natured of immortals have their trying times, Mr. Ephesian. I'm sure Mr. Tanner has his stories of such times. The only difference between you and him is that he has had a longer lifespan to face his tribulations and come to a point in his life where matters seem to roll off his back with the greatest of ease. Do not beat yourself up with comparison; you'll become your own worst enemy, as it can leave you vulnerable to ne'er-do-wells of the kind you're already familiar with," she noted, briefly flicking her eyes in the direction of the possessed juniors.
The Heiress smiled gently. "However, I think you will be able to reunite with your family in due time."
"Meris is correct in this. Whether angel, demon, or mortal, each of us are given an equal opportunity to make our own journey and figure out what we need and want to do with it. All of the variables of what and how are just pit stops along the way to whatever the final destination happens to be for them," Abdiel explained.
"Even the most stalwart and good-natured of immortals have their trying times, Mr. Ephesian. I'm sure Mr. Tanner has his stories of such times. The only difference between you and him is that he has had a longer lifespan to face his tribulations and come to a point in his life where matters seem to roll off his back with the greatest of ease. Do not beat yourself up with comparison; you'll become your own worst enemy, as it can leave you vulnerable to ne'er-do-wells of the kind you're already familiar with," she noted, briefly flicking her eyes in the direction of the possessed juniors.
The Heiress smiled gently. "However, I think you will be able to reunite with your family in due time."
"Meris is correct in this. Whether angel, demon, or mortal, each of us are given an equal opportunity to make our own journey and figure out what we need and want to do with it. All of the variables of what and how are just pit stops along the way to whatever the final destination happens to be for them," Abdiel explained.
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
Coach coughed lightly. "This is great, but I'm noticing a bit of a wall rising between our two would-be enemies. Belphegor has his eyes set on collateral damage, while Valefor only cares for Pride's piece of the pie.
- Wrath's, to be exact," replied the corpse, whose skull was now starting to look like a normally bald head. "Someone needs to rein in Pride and keep its forces marshalled, unlike others here who already take to peace talks."
The possessed anthro cat snored loudly, his displeasure obvious. "You're becoming a bore, Valefor. I normally reserve these threats for impertinent mortals, but your unflinching positions are a detriment to our work. I don't do boredom, Envoy."
The cat's breathing grew more shallow, his posture improved - and he fully raised his heavy eyelids, glaring at the possessed corpse. That ripped a few gasps of surprise from the demonic crowd, and even a quiet "My word!" out of Wormsworth. Behind the group, Belphegor's previously sleeping cohorts began to stir, looking like waking up was leaving them particularly cranky - and like they knew exactly who to blame.
"Like it or not, the war is happening," calmly protested the zombie. "I'm just here to make sure Pride doesn't steamroll across this plane without some sort of a plan; I doubt I could care less about your grandiose plans of reconstruction and trans-planar cohabitation. What I want to discuss is what you'd consider ceding over to us, the ways in which we could gird this conflict in the same rules as this plane's other recent armed conflicts. All I want is to skip savagery and head for something less reckless and more productive."
One of Belphegor's sleepers, an aging human woman in a tartan skirt and headscarf, took steps forward. They started plodding and uncertain, but gained in poise and certainty. "Wrath and Pride," she said, her voice thin if laced with steel and contempt. "As if righteous anger were only the Black Goat's province! You utter and complete boob; don't you realize other facets of War stand to gain from this?! Nergal the Weaponsmith and Ereshkigal, the Queen of Blades. They've always embodied and carried mortal wrath, with more tactical wherewithal than you've got in a single necrotic pinky finger! He guided George Gammell's hands in the construction of Meris' tools, and she guided her strokes when magic failed her and steel was called for! Whose side do you think they're on, if not Humanity's? They who live not as mortals in Texas, but with mortals, dine at their tables, speak openly with Walpurgis' mayoral council! These two are already living the dream Magnus set forth, and you think Belial is going to set the tone for the conflict?!"
The zombie blinked. "This - This is a new development to me. Why wasn't I told of this?"
Gabriel scoffed lightly. "Because Belial didn't leave his forge in the last two hundred years and managed to miss the tale of Otto Geier and his fleeing from Germany using the same magics the Kaiser's men intended to corrupt. He tapped into old Hyperborean Infernal foci, arose as a Warlock and killed his family's murderers with Nergal's help. Nergal liked his mixture of fury and lucidity and offered to sponsor him. The trio crossed the Atlantic, headed south, and met with Jubal Whitney and the Gentlemen. The Texian war hadn't subsided that Walpurgis rose out of the ground - the only city in the world designed to contain and nurture a pair of demonic entities."
Tom nodded. "Unfortunately, Nergal's willingly-endured gilded cage has its limits. The couple's free within the city's boundaries, but can't step within a hundred meters of the outer circle. Unless the merger changes things, they won't be able to provide direct assistance. We're bound to receive phone calls eventually, or videoconference requests. The one who calls himself Nelson Galbraith isn't just an old Middle-Eastern warlord, he's managed to dethrone the American small arms industry."
Three raised a hand and produced one of his pistols from its tattooed sheath. He rested it on the table and slid it over to Nergal. "The Galbraith-FN DE-12. Machined steel, uni-body construction, self-assembling rounds guaranteeing three years without reloading or maintenance - and I've got contacts with the Biggs cartel, thanks to Tom. "Push the issue on the battlefield, and you'll end up eating opposing Hellfire darts shaped for Parabellum rounds."
Valefor blinked. "Is this how you play politics, Drake? Threats?!
- I wouldn't have to push it if I didn't sense that all you want is for us to bend a knee. If you want us to consider terms, offer something. We're not the ones invading someone else's reality. Belphegor's played politics like a pro, for a guy who looks like Snorlax dressed by Louis Vuitton."
Strangely, Belphegor's followers and the cat himself all chuckled at that. Sloth apparently had enough self-awareness to stomach a few jokes.
- Wrath's, to be exact," replied the corpse, whose skull was now starting to look like a normally bald head. "Someone needs to rein in Pride and keep its forces marshalled, unlike others here who already take to peace talks."
The possessed anthro cat snored loudly, his displeasure obvious. "You're becoming a bore, Valefor. I normally reserve these threats for impertinent mortals, but your unflinching positions are a detriment to our work. I don't do boredom, Envoy."
The cat's breathing grew more shallow, his posture improved - and he fully raised his heavy eyelids, glaring at the possessed corpse. That ripped a few gasps of surprise from the demonic crowd, and even a quiet "My word!" out of Wormsworth. Behind the group, Belphegor's previously sleeping cohorts began to stir, looking like waking up was leaving them particularly cranky - and like they knew exactly who to blame.
"Like it or not, the war is happening," calmly protested the zombie. "I'm just here to make sure Pride doesn't steamroll across this plane without some sort of a plan; I doubt I could care less about your grandiose plans of reconstruction and trans-planar cohabitation. What I want to discuss is what you'd consider ceding over to us, the ways in which we could gird this conflict in the same rules as this plane's other recent armed conflicts. All I want is to skip savagery and head for something less reckless and more productive."
One of Belphegor's sleepers, an aging human woman in a tartan skirt and headscarf, took steps forward. They started plodding and uncertain, but gained in poise and certainty. "Wrath and Pride," she said, her voice thin if laced with steel and contempt. "As if righteous anger were only the Black Goat's province! You utter and complete boob; don't you realize other facets of War stand to gain from this?! Nergal the Weaponsmith and Ereshkigal, the Queen of Blades. They've always embodied and carried mortal wrath, with more tactical wherewithal than you've got in a single necrotic pinky finger! He guided George Gammell's hands in the construction of Meris' tools, and she guided her strokes when magic failed her and steel was called for! Whose side do you think they're on, if not Humanity's? They who live not as mortals in Texas, but with mortals, dine at their tables, speak openly with Walpurgis' mayoral council! These two are already living the dream Magnus set forth, and you think Belial is going to set the tone for the conflict?!"
The zombie blinked. "This - This is a new development to me. Why wasn't I told of this?"
Gabriel scoffed lightly. "Because Belial didn't leave his forge in the last two hundred years and managed to miss the tale of Otto Geier and his fleeing from Germany using the same magics the Kaiser's men intended to corrupt. He tapped into old Hyperborean Infernal foci, arose as a Warlock and killed his family's murderers with Nergal's help. Nergal liked his mixture of fury and lucidity and offered to sponsor him. The trio crossed the Atlantic, headed south, and met with Jubal Whitney and the Gentlemen. The Texian war hadn't subsided that Walpurgis rose out of the ground - the only city in the world designed to contain and nurture a pair of demonic entities."
Tom nodded. "Unfortunately, Nergal's willingly-endured gilded cage has its limits. The couple's free within the city's boundaries, but can't step within a hundred meters of the outer circle. Unless the merger changes things, they won't be able to provide direct assistance. We're bound to receive phone calls eventually, or videoconference requests. The one who calls himself Nelson Galbraith isn't just an old Middle-Eastern warlord, he's managed to dethrone the American small arms industry."
Three raised a hand and produced one of his pistols from its tattooed sheath. He rested it on the table and slid it over to Nergal. "The Galbraith-FN DE-12. Machined steel, uni-body construction, self-assembling rounds guaranteeing three years without reloading or maintenance - and I've got contacts with the Biggs cartel, thanks to Tom. "Push the issue on the battlefield, and you'll end up eating opposing Hellfire darts shaped for Parabellum rounds."
Valefor blinked. "Is this how you play politics, Drake? Threats?!
- I wouldn't have to push it if I didn't sense that all you want is for us to bend a knee. If you want us to consider terms, offer something. We're not the ones invading someone else's reality. Belphegor's played politics like a pro, for a guy who looks like Snorlax dressed by Louis Vuitton."
Strangely, Belphegor's followers and the cat himself all chuckled at that. Sloth apparently had enough self-awareness to stomach a few jokes.
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
Opting to push things forward in a hopefully constructive manner as one of the moderators, Aspasia inquired the reconstructing demon, "What do you have to offer, Valefor?"
"Belilal must've sent you here with a purpose that would benefit him, as it seems like each of the Vices are working for their own ends to some extent. The folks from the mortal and Heaven's sides have been talking peace talks and cohabitation because that's what their eventual end game is intended to be, but they know that conflict will be involved somehow and need to know your side of the chessboard, so to speak."
A pale brow quirked, as the fauness narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, appearing as a fellow tactician. "What are Wrath's aspirations, and how would it meld enough with our plans to ensure this plane doesn't become Pride's molten playground?"
"Belilal must've sent you here with a purpose that would benefit him, as it seems like each of the Vices are working for their own ends to some extent. The folks from the mortal and Heaven's sides have been talking peace talks and cohabitation because that's what their eventual end game is intended to be, but they know that conflict will be involved somehow and need to know your side of the chessboard, so to speak."
A pale brow quirked, as the fauness narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, appearing as a fellow tactician. "What are Wrath's aspirations, and how would it meld enough with our plans to ensure this plane doesn't become Pride's molten playground?"
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
Valefor grew quiet for a few moments and seemed to assess the crowd. As he did so, his scalp began to sprout hairs, his left missing eyebrow slowly filling in.
"I can show you Pride's marching order and where it intends to manifest en masse," he then replied. "I can show you where the largest of beach-heads will be located, and how to effectively counter Pride's advance. It won't eliminate skirmishes or prevent other fights from brewing, elsewhere in the city, but it might allow you to push more effectively."
Archie smirked at that. "See now, Valefor? Was that hard?
- It counters my own plans," noted the demon, not without some annoyance. "I'd intended to negotiate this conflict as Wrath would - with efficiency. Partial concessions on your respective parts would have mollified the Black Goat and enabled you to strike at his rear. Now you've set yourselves for a frontal assault."
Three hardened his features. "We weren't about to let Hope's citizens suffer just to gain an edge, Valefor. I learned the hard way what a lot of my colleagues never picked up: you don't get to play with people's lives.
- Yes, I'm sure virtue serves as a strong shield, when faced with Pride's innumerable conscripts..."
Just then, the low rumble of a parking bike could be heard descending into a soft purr in front of the restaurant - along with the whisper of resting tires and the chatter of crushed gravel. Through the front windows, a heavyset man wearing stonewashed jeans, a wife beater and a light quilted biking jacket was seen approaching. Three felt Sam pushing illusion-dispelling words of the Black Speech to the forefront of his mind, and he allowed himself to faintly whisper them. As expected, Bob was in control of the old biker's flesh, the Sammaelite pushing the door open with a sniff.
"Sorry we're late," he said, "Ahriman needed some convincing. He's too old to survive the trip, but I brought a lil' somethin' along."
He ignored the hisses and other seething insults Pride's juniors lobbed at him and approached Aspasia. "Y'got something like a large bowl or a mixing pot for one of those big kitchen blenders I could use?" he said, raising a small wooden case as if the Blue Chimera would recognize its use immediately. Tom opted to offer an explanation.
"It's, uh, probably some sort of scrying booster," he supplied. "It's hard to have a group conversation with a faint reflection in a pool of water, and Pandemonium sometimes needs to coordinate things with some of its allied Infernalists or with Walpurgis, here in America."
Behind Bob, another heavily-built figure walked up to the diner, two bodyguards stopping to flank the entrance. The demon turned around and gave the newcomer an appraising glance.
John Smith stood before the group, briefly stopping to slip a massive index and thumb behind his proboscis to adjust his tie. Judging by the look Valefor was giving him, the mammoth was one of the few mortals that gave Wrath pause. With a flint-like gaze and a low, if currently soft voice, Caliban Smith's more reserved and self-contained adoptive brother addressed the group.
"Ladies, gentlemen - the socioeconomic heart of Hope is being fought for. With Celestial Light and Hellfire both presenting new opportunities, I would speak for the mortal plane's economic interests. We wouldn't survive a wholesale collapse of our infrastructure, and we all know Pride's desired return to feudalism wouldn't occur without rebellion or bloodshed. I'd like us to focus on defeating this enemy of yours where it matters most: on the trade floor."
Three frowned. "Why this, mister Smith? Why now? You spent months providing Holden Hall's software licenses, your subsidiaries haven't been so profitable in years - and the most you did was sip coffee on The View."
John headed towards Pride's side of the seating area, paused and then selected a seat and table, positioning himself a ways away from the demons, if still off-center. Valefor didn't look like he'd missed the sitting arrangement.
"Just as Ruthven's incompetence led to new opportunities in the fields of gene therapy and optogenetics, there's much to gain if we strip Celestial Light and Hellfire from their dogmatic constraints. I could have ordered for Isaacs' termination decades ago, but I honestly preferred letting an untested resource in the hands of madmen I knew, located light-years away. The end result was a profitable lawsuit for Goliath, the reclaimed ownership of the gene codebase behind all Chimeras, and the creation of human capital the likes of which the defense sector hadn't seen since the Silver Age. Did you know approximately forty-six percent of exonerated or liberated Reds and Blues willingly re-integrated this country's military? Do you know how many successful missions our Army corps and PMCs owe to Ruthven's theft?"
Gabriel nodded, although he seemed displeased. "I know, for one. I'm painfully aware of how difficult peacetime is for some of Mrs. Robertson's ilk. I'm also aware that you're hoping to bankroll on the required services for what's essentially traumatized troops with superhuman strength and speed."
He paused. "I'm also aware that Gregory Rendell's very existence is your fault, albeit indirectly. You've sinned, mister Smith. Don't think I can't see it."
The mammoth shrugged. "I'm more of a Jeremy Bentham type than a Saint Dismas one. We live by our actions, and I know what I've done. I also haven't missed how our dear mister Magnus and the Goat both want to up-end our social structure. If I've sinned, aren't the both of them sinning as well, in thinking they'll reshape Earth in accordance to their beliefs? Pride is pride, no matter if one believes in trans-planar cooperation and the other, in trans-planar subjugation."
Leonard blinked at that. "How are you so much as aware? I thought-"
The pachyderm gave the goat a half-lidded stare. "Please, mister Ephesian; I donate six million to the Archdiocese every year and bankroll virtually every Jewish and Muslim community center with a reputable name in the tri-State area. I know a few people in high places, just a few bumps away from the Vatican. I know what the Order of Saint George knows. Sometimes, I know before they so much as earn their own situation reports. This was one such case. I knew, even as Father Curran had barely finished trying to entreat your friends for assistance."
He looked back at Aspasia. "I know about the Bucks and Meris of the Orcades' journals; and I can only surmise I'm following in the heels of your having followed the Rothchilds' tip."
"I can show you Pride's marching order and where it intends to manifest en masse," he then replied. "I can show you where the largest of beach-heads will be located, and how to effectively counter Pride's advance. It won't eliminate skirmishes or prevent other fights from brewing, elsewhere in the city, but it might allow you to push more effectively."
Archie smirked at that. "See now, Valefor? Was that hard?
- It counters my own plans," noted the demon, not without some annoyance. "I'd intended to negotiate this conflict as Wrath would - with efficiency. Partial concessions on your respective parts would have mollified the Black Goat and enabled you to strike at his rear. Now you've set yourselves for a frontal assault."
Three hardened his features. "We weren't about to let Hope's citizens suffer just to gain an edge, Valefor. I learned the hard way what a lot of my colleagues never picked up: you don't get to play with people's lives.
- Yes, I'm sure virtue serves as a strong shield, when faced with Pride's innumerable conscripts..."
Just then, the low rumble of a parking bike could be heard descending into a soft purr in front of the restaurant - along with the whisper of resting tires and the chatter of crushed gravel. Through the front windows, a heavyset man wearing stonewashed jeans, a wife beater and a light quilted biking jacket was seen approaching. Three felt Sam pushing illusion-dispelling words of the Black Speech to the forefront of his mind, and he allowed himself to faintly whisper them. As expected, Bob was in control of the old biker's flesh, the Sammaelite pushing the door open with a sniff.
"Sorry we're late," he said, "Ahriman needed some convincing. He's too old to survive the trip, but I brought a lil' somethin' along."
He ignored the hisses and other seething insults Pride's juniors lobbed at him and approached Aspasia. "Y'got something like a large bowl or a mixing pot for one of those big kitchen blenders I could use?" he said, raising a small wooden case as if the Blue Chimera would recognize its use immediately. Tom opted to offer an explanation.
"It's, uh, probably some sort of scrying booster," he supplied. "It's hard to have a group conversation with a faint reflection in a pool of water, and Pandemonium sometimes needs to coordinate things with some of its allied Infernalists or with Walpurgis, here in America."
Behind Bob, another heavily-built figure walked up to the diner, two bodyguards stopping to flank the entrance. The demon turned around and gave the newcomer an appraising glance.
John Smith stood before the group, briefly stopping to slip a massive index and thumb behind his proboscis to adjust his tie. Judging by the look Valefor was giving him, the mammoth was one of the few mortals that gave Wrath pause. With a flint-like gaze and a low, if currently soft voice, Caliban Smith's more reserved and self-contained adoptive brother addressed the group.
"Ladies, gentlemen - the socioeconomic heart of Hope is being fought for. With Celestial Light and Hellfire both presenting new opportunities, I would speak for the mortal plane's economic interests. We wouldn't survive a wholesale collapse of our infrastructure, and we all know Pride's desired return to feudalism wouldn't occur without rebellion or bloodshed. I'd like us to focus on defeating this enemy of yours where it matters most: on the trade floor."
Three frowned. "Why this, mister Smith? Why now? You spent months providing Holden Hall's software licenses, your subsidiaries haven't been so profitable in years - and the most you did was sip coffee on The View."
John headed towards Pride's side of the seating area, paused and then selected a seat and table, positioning himself a ways away from the demons, if still off-center. Valefor didn't look like he'd missed the sitting arrangement.
"Just as Ruthven's incompetence led to new opportunities in the fields of gene therapy and optogenetics, there's much to gain if we strip Celestial Light and Hellfire from their dogmatic constraints. I could have ordered for Isaacs' termination decades ago, but I honestly preferred letting an untested resource in the hands of madmen I knew, located light-years away. The end result was a profitable lawsuit for Goliath, the reclaimed ownership of the gene codebase behind all Chimeras, and the creation of human capital the likes of which the defense sector hadn't seen since the Silver Age. Did you know approximately forty-six percent of exonerated or liberated Reds and Blues willingly re-integrated this country's military? Do you know how many successful missions our Army corps and PMCs owe to Ruthven's theft?"
Gabriel nodded, although he seemed displeased. "I know, for one. I'm painfully aware of how difficult peacetime is for some of Mrs. Robertson's ilk. I'm also aware that you're hoping to bankroll on the required services for what's essentially traumatized troops with superhuman strength and speed."
He paused. "I'm also aware that Gregory Rendell's very existence is your fault, albeit indirectly. You've sinned, mister Smith. Don't think I can't see it."
The mammoth shrugged. "I'm more of a Jeremy Bentham type than a Saint Dismas one. We live by our actions, and I know what I've done. I also haven't missed how our dear mister Magnus and the Goat both want to up-end our social structure. If I've sinned, aren't the both of them sinning as well, in thinking they'll reshape Earth in accordance to their beliefs? Pride is pride, no matter if one believes in trans-planar cooperation and the other, in trans-planar subjugation."
Leonard blinked at that. "How are you so much as aware? I thought-"
The pachyderm gave the goat a half-lidded stare. "Please, mister Ephesian; I donate six million to the Archdiocese every year and bankroll virtually every Jewish and Muslim community center with a reputable name in the tri-State area. I know a few people in high places, just a few bumps away from the Vatican. I know what the Order of Saint George knows. Sometimes, I know before they so much as earn their own situation reports. This was one such case. I knew, even as Father Curran had barely finished trying to entreat your friends for assistance."
He looked back at Aspasia. "I know about the Bucks and Meris of the Orcades' journals; and I can only surmise I'm following in the heels of your having followed the Rothchilds' tip."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
The statuesque fauness eyed the mammoth coolly and then shrugged. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Mr. Smith," she responded with a sigh, still sticking to a formal approach with him. In all her years, she had never felt the need to use his first name in the way she did with Caliban. Perhaps it was the Japanese influence in her life, but using a first name with someone conveyed closeness for her.
Aspasia hurried into the kitchen to return with the requested large bowl, handing it to the Sammaelite. It was a rich, dark red made from an industrial-strength ceramic and glinted underneath the interior lighting.
She then raised a brow sardonically at Leonard, Gabriel, and Three. "You think Big Brother in the days of McCarthyism and the Patriot Act was something? They don't have anything on him,"" she noted with a light snort. "If you ever wanted to know where I got my penchant for keeping tabs on events from, take a gander."
She then glanced at the general. "We've all sinned, Gabriel. No one here or anywhere is entirely innocent," she summarized pointedly. "With that said, let's resume with the show, folks."
Aspasia hurried into the kitchen to return with the requested large bowl, handing it to the Sammaelite. It was a rich, dark red made from an industrial-strength ceramic and glinted underneath the interior lighting.
She then raised a brow sardonically at Leonard, Gabriel, and Three. "You think Big Brother in the days of McCarthyism and the Patriot Act was something? They don't have anything on him,"" she noted with a light snort. "If you ever wanted to know where I got my penchant for keeping tabs on events from, take a gander."
She then glanced at the general. "We've all sinned, Gabriel. No one here or anywhere is entirely innocent," she summarized pointedly. "With that said, let's resume with the show, folks."
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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
"Don't let me keep you," briefly added the pachyderm, "I'd rather listen and take notes for the time being. I'll chime in once we'll have moved on to less barbarous interests," he said, side-eyeing Valefor.
The demon sneered at that. "You act like you know me, mortal...
- I don't, but I know your type," calmly retorted the anthro, even as he dug inside his jacket to recover a tablet that would've been the size of a small 1080p display for most humans, but which he effortlessly held in one hand. His proboscis deftly pushed down on the catch integrated in the tablet's body, and pulled out a stylus - both edges of his elephantine nostrils precisely pinched like an index and forefinger. His breathing seemed to slightly adjust, so that he'd be able to speak without sounding particularly nasal.
Belphegor seemed amused by Valefor's indignant look. "You forget, Envoy, that mammoths tend to naturally live for centuries. A gift from Nature, in their being among the first few to feel Magic's transforming touch. Mortal he might be, you aren't likely to be his first arrogant fool."
In the meantime, Bob had thanked Aspasia and moved to quickly fill the bowl halfway. Once he'd set it on a table, he opened the small case he'd carried and pulled out a strange device - half snap-on drink holder and half-mechanical orrery. He tightened a few delicate thumb screws to have the edges fit over the bowl and then muttered to himself as he tried remembering specific instructions. It seemed to involve lowering a quartz finger into the bowl at a specific depth, while positioning orbs representing the planes of existence in particular positions. His first few attempts produced sibilant squawking noises and weird light flashes atop the bowl, enough to make Raguel wince.
"Ay, Madre de Dios, tune that thing in, already!
- Not now, Miguel," groused Bob, "you're not the one with a boss who's got more of a flare for cryptic wisdom than clear tuning instructions!"
Raguel smiled toothily. "It's Raguel, amigo, and I actually do know what that's like. My boss is technically Uriel!"
Bob winced at that. "Oy. Yeah, that'd do it. Point conceded and whatnot.
- I always thought you Sammies were pretty cool," added the angel.
Bob didn't respond to the compliment, but instead kept focused on his work. A ghostly image came into view atop the device, focusing into the shape of some massive four-legged alien in some sort of wife-beater dosing off on some sort of curving slab of foam. Alien and English characters floated in front of him, suggesting the display had focused on some random point in Paradise. The big green lug opened two of its four eyes and then recoiled away, spraying holographic spittle and opening his bifurcated jaw widely in its equivalent of a scream of sudden fright.
"Shitshitshit - Sorry 'bout that!" replied Bob. "Go, uh, go back to sleep, you big green... space thing! 'Kay, bye!"
The image winked to a view just outside of what looked like some sort of capsule-shaped dwelling resting atop a lunar world's barren surface. In the capsule, what looked like a young Karthian was intently massaging his own forehead, a vaguely purplish point of concentrated psionic power glowing between his eyes. Some sort of glass-hewn tablet floated in front of him, the image on it showing a female of the same species as she recited something at the most boringly monotone inflexion possible. The young alien seemingly caught sight of their display, his skin turning a dark shade of slate grey in response. An imperious wave saw the window go opaque, and Gabriel sigh.
"Try focusing on Hell, first. You're still dialed into this plane.
- I'm trying," replied the Teacher demon behind clenched teeth, "but the ring for Hell's stuck! It won't budge!"
It took a good ten minutes for Archangel and Teacher demon alike to fix the device, during which Belphegor took some time to compliment Aspasia's staff for their work. Her Greek salad was excellent, as it turned out. The device fixed, a few flames had started leaving Bob's nostrils out of frustration, while Gabriel's tie had been slightly loosened, his court jacket undone and his flat cap, removed. After a good few dozen awkward to humorous or nightmarish glimpses into various planar points, they finally focused in on Ahriman's gardens. The blind Faun looked ever the picture of frail patience - while Akaios and his Friar Tuck-worthy getup looked more than a little miffed; arms crossed and head ducked between his shoulders.
"Good, great!" quipped Pandemonium's Judge. "We had to send the one lugnut who can't read a six-hundred-page manual in time for the meeting! Sorry about that, friends - we've been here for a few hours, give or take. I had time enough to visit, sample the kitchens and the benches, take in all the trees and flowers...
- We've prepared ourselves as befitting for this auspicious event," said Ahriman, his eyes as unfocused as Riona's, while only weary benevolence marked his features.
Akaios side-eyed the Faun and leaned in. "He means he napped and walked around smelling flowers. It's not like he needs studying, right? He'd recite this place's wants and needs by heart even in his sleep."
Ahriman didn't move or directly address Akaios. "I can hear you, Your Honor..."
Akaios ducked his head again. "Oops. Subtlety's not really my forte - my brother's gotten the most of that."
Proving his point, he then managed a seemingly random beaming smile at the Shieldies. "Friendos, hi! Haven't seen you lot since the Spire! How's the Meatspace, huh? Still super-duper fleshy?
- Well, the Meatspace's in danger," summarized Three, "which is why you're here."
Coach cleared his throat. "To summarize; we've got Sloth offering a sort of transplanar UN Peacekeepers force-type-thing to keep innocents out of the crossfires, and us mortals tossing in the idea of a sigil or design. Holden's offered amnesty to anyone who shows up at the Hall with weapons lowered, and Valefor wishes we'd conceded more to Pride. John Smith of Goliath's here to see how to best arrange things economically and you guys, well... You speak for Pandemonium."
Wrath's envoy gave it some more thought, eyed the juniors, and then managed a slow smirk. "Actually, I think I know what my own forces would like to concede..."
The demon sneered at that. "You act like you know me, mortal...
- I don't, but I know your type," calmly retorted the anthro, even as he dug inside his jacket to recover a tablet that would've been the size of a small 1080p display for most humans, but which he effortlessly held in one hand. His proboscis deftly pushed down on the catch integrated in the tablet's body, and pulled out a stylus - both edges of his elephantine nostrils precisely pinched like an index and forefinger. His breathing seemed to slightly adjust, so that he'd be able to speak without sounding particularly nasal.
Belphegor seemed amused by Valefor's indignant look. "You forget, Envoy, that mammoths tend to naturally live for centuries. A gift from Nature, in their being among the first few to feel Magic's transforming touch. Mortal he might be, you aren't likely to be his first arrogant fool."
In the meantime, Bob had thanked Aspasia and moved to quickly fill the bowl halfway. Once he'd set it on a table, he opened the small case he'd carried and pulled out a strange device - half snap-on drink holder and half-mechanical orrery. He tightened a few delicate thumb screws to have the edges fit over the bowl and then muttered to himself as he tried remembering specific instructions. It seemed to involve lowering a quartz finger into the bowl at a specific depth, while positioning orbs representing the planes of existence in particular positions. His first few attempts produced sibilant squawking noises and weird light flashes atop the bowl, enough to make Raguel wince.
"Ay, Madre de Dios, tune that thing in, already!
- Not now, Miguel," groused Bob, "you're not the one with a boss who's got more of a flare for cryptic wisdom than clear tuning instructions!"
Raguel smiled toothily. "It's Raguel, amigo, and I actually do know what that's like. My boss is technically Uriel!"
Bob winced at that. "Oy. Yeah, that'd do it. Point conceded and whatnot.
- I always thought you Sammies were pretty cool," added the angel.
Bob didn't respond to the compliment, but instead kept focused on his work. A ghostly image came into view atop the device, focusing into the shape of some massive four-legged alien in some sort of wife-beater dosing off on some sort of curving slab of foam. Alien and English characters floated in front of him, suggesting the display had focused on some random point in Paradise. The big green lug opened two of its four eyes and then recoiled away, spraying holographic spittle and opening his bifurcated jaw widely in its equivalent of a scream of sudden fright.
"Shitshitshit - Sorry 'bout that!" replied Bob. "Go, uh, go back to sleep, you big green... space thing! 'Kay, bye!"
The image winked to a view just outside of what looked like some sort of capsule-shaped dwelling resting atop a lunar world's barren surface. In the capsule, what looked like a young Karthian was intently massaging his own forehead, a vaguely purplish point of concentrated psionic power glowing between his eyes. Some sort of glass-hewn tablet floated in front of him, the image on it showing a female of the same species as she recited something at the most boringly monotone inflexion possible. The young alien seemingly caught sight of their display, his skin turning a dark shade of slate grey in response. An imperious wave saw the window go opaque, and Gabriel sigh.
"Try focusing on Hell, first. You're still dialed into this plane.
- I'm trying," replied the Teacher demon behind clenched teeth, "but the ring for Hell's stuck! It won't budge!"
It took a good ten minutes for Archangel and Teacher demon alike to fix the device, during which Belphegor took some time to compliment Aspasia's staff for their work. Her Greek salad was excellent, as it turned out. The device fixed, a few flames had started leaving Bob's nostrils out of frustration, while Gabriel's tie had been slightly loosened, his court jacket undone and his flat cap, removed. After a good few dozen awkward to humorous or nightmarish glimpses into various planar points, they finally focused in on Ahriman's gardens. The blind Faun looked ever the picture of frail patience - while Akaios and his Friar Tuck-worthy getup looked more than a little miffed; arms crossed and head ducked between his shoulders.
"Good, great!" quipped Pandemonium's Judge. "We had to send the one lugnut who can't read a six-hundred-page manual in time for the meeting! Sorry about that, friends - we've been here for a few hours, give or take. I had time enough to visit, sample the kitchens and the benches, take in all the trees and flowers...
- We've prepared ourselves as befitting for this auspicious event," said Ahriman, his eyes as unfocused as Riona's, while only weary benevolence marked his features.
Akaios side-eyed the Faun and leaned in. "He means he napped and walked around smelling flowers. It's not like he needs studying, right? He'd recite this place's wants and needs by heart even in his sleep."
Ahriman didn't move or directly address Akaios. "I can hear you, Your Honor..."
Akaios ducked his head again. "Oops. Subtlety's not really my forte - my brother's gotten the most of that."
Proving his point, he then managed a seemingly random beaming smile at the Shieldies. "Friendos, hi! Haven't seen you lot since the Spire! How's the Meatspace, huh? Still super-duper fleshy?
- Well, the Meatspace's in danger," summarized Three, "which is why you're here."
Coach cleared his throat. "To summarize; we've got Sloth offering a sort of transplanar UN Peacekeepers force-type-thing to keep innocents out of the crossfires, and us mortals tossing in the idea of a sigil or design. Holden's offered amnesty to anyone who shows up at the Hall with weapons lowered, and Valefor wishes we'd conceded more to Pride. John Smith of Goliath's here to see how to best arrange things economically and you guys, well... You speak for Pandemonium."
Wrath's envoy gave it some more thought, eyed the juniors, and then managed a slow smirk. "Actually, I think I know what my own forces would like to concede..."
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
Aislinn let out a slightly exasperated sigh. "Just tell us, Valefor. Pausing for dramatic effect isn't helping..." she muttered.
Aspasia followed Valefor's gaze as it settled on the juniors and frowned curiously. "What're your forces willing to concede? The way you're eyeing the juniors makes it seem like they might be the bartering pieces," she observed.
Aspasia followed Valefor's gaze as it settled on the juniors and frowned curiously. "What're your forces willing to concede? The way you're eyeing the juniors makes it seem like they might be the bartering pieces," she observed.
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IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3709
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
Re: Chapter V - Brimstone
They indeed didn't look too pleased, some already shouting for betrayal or gripping table knives in ways that weren't exactly reassuring.
"Wrath secured a bargaining chip for itself, in the advent of a total defeat of our forces. Pride wasn't one to consider such an outcome, but we at least were willing to consider it as a possibility. In doing so, Belial had to prepare for it, just as he prepares for every other challenge he faces."
He looked back to Gabriel. "You've heard of the Celestial Burdens; countermeasures designed to contain failing or addled members of the Host. We stole supplies from the Sammaelites centuries ago and worked to put together a bane of our own. Pride being self-reflective, it only missed a mirror to turn into a recursive force. The Goat will sooner flee than allow your Rhadamantus' court to judge him fit for the vagaries of mortality as punishment, but we found ways to pin the Goat into place or even temporarily sap his reasoning power."
He then looked back to Tom. "Mister Magnus, would you kindly open a portal for me? I don't exactly need a big one - a square frame at chest height would do; at about two-by-two inches. Here's my own cipher," he said, handing another slip of paper to the Warlock. Moments later, a pigeonhole's worth of a portal to Hell hovered in front of Valefor - through which he reached. Carefully, his fingers bunched together, he pulled something out. As he uncurled his fingers, a vial topped with black cork and containing a silvery substance could be seen.
"Coat a mirror with this," he said, "and it shall reflect a person's perceived character. Not their truth, unlike most fairy tales - but what their shallowest depths believe them to be. We tested it on the Goat before, and brought about his devotion to personal grooming and aesthetic perfection. Before us, Pride was not quite as rooted in Vanity, but that corruptive instant lasted enough to stretch over hours, here in the mortal plane. All you would need is an open space in the battlefield, a mirror, and a mollified Prince of the Pit. With Rhadamantus having rediscovered his charge, he should be able to shackle the Goat without resistance."
Three pursed his lips together. "We need a test run. I won't base an entire defense strategy on a magical mirror coating.
- I wouldn't expect you to," replied the envoy. "Put a drop of this onto every mirror of the men's bathroom of the courthouse, for Courtroom 2B. The Goat's liable to call for recess during his final statement - the body still has needs - and the outcome of IsoTech's case will be heard in 2B. The effect will be diluted, but you'll have your proof."
Smith chimed in from the back. "I get the sense this wasn't a token of good faith on Wrath's part, or else this would've been brought up before my arrival…
- We intended to use it to save ourselves," admitted Valefor, and initially believed we'd be able to claim the mortal plane's dominion for our own. I'm aware of how it sounds - Wrath being prideful.
- It sounds more like a hostile takeover to me," noted the mammoth. "There isn't much pride in noting the dysfunctional approaches of certain management sectors and marshalling a brigade of better-qualified executives for the branch. Not that you would've taken Earth, but your steering the invasion in your favor is completely understandable."
Valefor narrowed his eyes. "Who's to say Wrath couldn't have taken this place? We already own it by rights, after all. All your wars, your politics, your demonizing one another all in the purpose of gaining some shred of power… This world is ours, we've crafted it throughout your History."
The mammoth gave the possessed corpse a cool glance. "This world contains enough gifted and enough arcane artifacts and Nexuses to take a group like our local vigilantes and turn them into demigods, Valefor. You already have two seated at your table, and I know of at least another one that currently is wondering why nobody included him in these proceedings. We aren't skilled at bringing the most awesome of these people's abilities and powers forth on command - but when we manage it, well..."
John paused to etch out a few sentences on his tablet. "Let's just say Merlin and Nimue are the reason why Great Britain isn't a dragon-run oligarchy as of today."
"Wrath secured a bargaining chip for itself, in the advent of a total defeat of our forces. Pride wasn't one to consider such an outcome, but we at least were willing to consider it as a possibility. In doing so, Belial had to prepare for it, just as he prepares for every other challenge he faces."
He looked back to Gabriel. "You've heard of the Celestial Burdens; countermeasures designed to contain failing or addled members of the Host. We stole supplies from the Sammaelites centuries ago and worked to put together a bane of our own. Pride being self-reflective, it only missed a mirror to turn into a recursive force. The Goat will sooner flee than allow your Rhadamantus' court to judge him fit for the vagaries of mortality as punishment, but we found ways to pin the Goat into place or even temporarily sap his reasoning power."
He then looked back to Tom. "Mister Magnus, would you kindly open a portal for me? I don't exactly need a big one - a square frame at chest height would do; at about two-by-two inches. Here's my own cipher," he said, handing another slip of paper to the Warlock. Moments later, a pigeonhole's worth of a portal to Hell hovered in front of Valefor - through which he reached. Carefully, his fingers bunched together, he pulled something out. As he uncurled his fingers, a vial topped with black cork and containing a silvery substance could be seen.
"Coat a mirror with this," he said, "and it shall reflect a person's perceived character. Not their truth, unlike most fairy tales - but what their shallowest depths believe them to be. We tested it on the Goat before, and brought about his devotion to personal grooming and aesthetic perfection. Before us, Pride was not quite as rooted in Vanity, but that corruptive instant lasted enough to stretch over hours, here in the mortal plane. All you would need is an open space in the battlefield, a mirror, and a mollified Prince of the Pit. With Rhadamantus having rediscovered his charge, he should be able to shackle the Goat without resistance."
Three pursed his lips together. "We need a test run. I won't base an entire defense strategy on a magical mirror coating.
- I wouldn't expect you to," replied the envoy. "Put a drop of this onto every mirror of the men's bathroom of the courthouse, for Courtroom 2B. The Goat's liable to call for recess during his final statement - the body still has needs - and the outcome of IsoTech's case will be heard in 2B. The effect will be diluted, but you'll have your proof."
Smith chimed in from the back. "I get the sense this wasn't a token of good faith on Wrath's part, or else this would've been brought up before my arrival…
- We intended to use it to save ourselves," admitted Valefor, and initially believed we'd be able to claim the mortal plane's dominion for our own. I'm aware of how it sounds - Wrath being prideful.
- It sounds more like a hostile takeover to me," noted the mammoth. "There isn't much pride in noting the dysfunctional approaches of certain management sectors and marshalling a brigade of better-qualified executives for the branch. Not that you would've taken Earth, but your steering the invasion in your favor is completely understandable."
Valefor narrowed his eyes. "Who's to say Wrath couldn't have taken this place? We already own it by rights, after all. All your wars, your politics, your demonizing one another all in the purpose of gaining some shred of power… This world is ours, we've crafted it throughout your History."
The mammoth gave the possessed corpse a cool glance. "This world contains enough gifted and enough arcane artifacts and Nexuses to take a group like our local vigilantes and turn them into demigods, Valefor. You already have two seated at your table, and I know of at least another one that currently is wondering why nobody included him in these proceedings. We aren't skilled at bringing the most awesome of these people's abilities and powers forth on command - but when we manage it, well..."
John paused to etch out a few sentences on his tablet. "Let's just say Merlin and Nimue are the reason why Great Britain isn't a dragon-run oligarchy as of today."