The Zen and Fury in Healing

[IamLEAM1983]

Herbert sighed and withdrew for a moment. His clothes shimmered, the tracksuit replaced with his trusty grey suit and red necktie, the shadows bending around his feet until they'd taken the shape of standard Oxfords. He gave Marius a few glances but mostly rubbed at his own mouth, tail swishing as he considered how to best defend his position. A few seconds passed, after which he glanced up at Miranda. He snapped his fingers again, a high-backed leather chair appearing behind and underneath her, suddenly supporting her weight. Another snap, and a copy of the same chair appeared in front of it. Allocer, Aspasia, Shen Long and Marius would also find themselves plopped in similar chairs. They levitated just milimeters away from the tatami mats, sliding forward on a cushion of air until all of them were positioned in a perfect circle. The new Prince then took his seat, crossed his legs at his knees and lifted his hands. In one appeared a small saucer, and in the other a steaming cup of what smelled like the kind of espresso Saudi princes would've killed for. Everyone in the assembly would feel a strange compulsion to raise their dominant hand as if to receive something, and their drink of choice materialized between their fingers. Then, very lightly, the chairs settled on the mats.

Shen Long seemed to enjoy watching things unfold, judging by the smirk behind his beard. The lanky demon lifted his cup in a salute and took a careful sip, giving himself a few seconds to swallow and savor the measure's aftermath as the liquid's offered warmth traveled down his gullet. Herbert then rested the saucer and cup on one of his armrests and lifted a finger at Miranda, signalling for patience.

"Your concerns are valid, Marius - as they should be," he then said, sounding like he was weighing every single syllable that left his mouth. "We have all fought against Pride and are well aware that there are outliers in the new hierarchy, rebels who would rather Lucifer did things the old-fashioned way. Grishnakhal was one of them. However, the Planes are no longer infinite, and neither are the Keeper's armies. Lucifer, Gabriel, Chairman Holden, Oberon, Titania and all allied Princes have signed a security brief regarding the danger the Sect of the Old Keep poses. Our guard cannot and should not be lowered - that much is true."

He glanced at the others. "Keep this in mind for a moment, I'll return to the three of you shortly," he said, then looking back at Miranda with a smile.

"Now then, darling - you stand here, carrying a weapon that reflects the mind of generations of martial mastery, enough power and tactical wherewithal even without the observable grace and sense of flow to seriously challenge lifelong combatants. Hundreds of sifus and senseis are whispering to your nerve endings and muscle fibers even now, progressively imparting you with greater speed and precision than you likely can imagine."

He leaned forward and raised a finger. "What do they say to you of the tactical value of peace?" he questioned, immediately raising a hand for Marius to remain patient. "The Keeper is of the old branch of Pride; all he needs is another push, another perceived affront. His offense would not and could not be global, unlike the Goat's, but he would certainly overtake Hope if not adequately prepared against."

Allocer's conjured drink smelled fruity, but not alcoholic. Some sort of fruit juice blend, then, in compliance with the detention center's policy on beverages. The former Duke sniffed lightly. "Can I butt in for a second?"

Herbert nodded and the bigger demon leaned forward. "I've had a lot to read, over the past few months. A lot to watch, too. The warden's given me this offline-only tablet and I've put in a few movie requests already. WarGames was one of them. Kid hacks into NORAD, hooks it to some kind of primitive AI mainframe. It catches onto mutually-assured destruction as a concept; they Hollywoodize the crap out of this WOPR machine - something that's a fraction of the size of a single Maintainer node starts waxing philosophical. A strange game, it says. The only winning move is not to play."

Shen Long nodded. "In this case, however, Grishnakhal wants to play - quite badly - but the Goat's approach displeased him. He is an honorable sort, for all of his flaws. He met Marius' challenge on his own."

Herbert grimaced lightly. "That was honor driven by Ego, nothing but the desire to present a strong face on the battlefield. If you would, however, I would like to hear Miranda's thoughts towards my initial question..."

[TennyoCeres84]

Miranda looked down at Joyful Death and lightly held it, listening to the many voices and feelings she felt from the sword. She sipped the fruity herbal tea and sighed.

"They say that peace is the counterbalance to war and the ego is an illusion, as well as a faulty shield and sword," she offered.

She listened further. "Peace is the need to maintain a healthy homeostasis for the sake of others, but it can also be stagnation. It can be an illusion with the need to remain in control, in a similar vein to what Allocer did before he changed his ways," she stated, non-accusatively glancing at the former Duke before looking down at the enchanted blade.

"It's easy to present the front of strength, but it's a lot harder to maintain it. Even battle-hardy warriors have their limits in the face of war. With peace, you likely have less concerns of needing to fight over things like resources or perceived conflicts within your own circle. It reveals a stronger will that is able to bend rather than break in the face of adversity. Flexibility allows for other connections to form. That can mean gained skills, resources, or allies, depending on the situation. "

"If you have these things at hand, you can share them more readily than if you were at war all the time. You can think of things more rationally than always have to fool others into thinking you're invincible. Peace is harder to maintain and indicates greater strength than always being in conflict. You have more planning power for when large threats loom on the horizon. that's what they've indicated to me so far," she explained.

[IamLEAM1983]

Herbert nodded and then looked back to Allocer. "And what of war?"

The former Duke shrugged. "What about it? Mortals wage war for resources, for territorial control or ideological reasons, but all it does is reduce a complex situation to a simple solution. Crush the enemy and you're done. The crushing gets done on the news, as of the last several big conflicts, but the human cost is undeniable. You can't show that kind of strength without someone paying its associated price. Considering what you are, I doubt you'd want to involve even Shield in matters related to Pride's defense."

Herbert sighed. "Indeed, I do not. As has been established, however, peace fosters long-term approaches and is defined by some as a source of weakness. Even outside of this dojo, there are those who say there will never be peace between the planes as long as those like Grishnakhal or Amenadiel's mysterious enabler are allowed to reconvene."

Shen Long traded a glance between Marius and Herbert. "So we cut the apple in half. Pride occupies its old estates and halls not as their master, but as their occupier. If you constrict the Goat's old faithful without raising a hand unless provoked, you will show both strength and moderation. If the old Keeper knows you are controlling the battlefield, you will force him into more covert means of engagement. Less innocents will fall as a result."

Allocer smirked at Miranda and Marius. "Reverse Asterix. Grish is the Gaul village packed with rebellious idiots, in this case; and you're all four Roman garrisons posted at the edge of the forest."

The comparison made Herbert scoff. "I don't exactly have Vitalstatistix's girth, I'm afraid, nor anyone on-hand with a strength-enhancing magic potion.
- Come on," playfully chided Allocer, "as if you'd need a boost from Meris or Coach, seriously! You're speaking for thousands of Pride Knights with vacation leaves for Earth booked centuries in advance; I don't know how many Dukes and Marquesses of the Order of the Fly - and you're afraid of not having an advantage against someone who's too prideful to see war as anything other than the clash of steel? Snap your fingers, make a few proclamations, and you've got Infosec grunts by the handful, PR reps to help you sully Grish's name before he even raises a single blade, and enough sympathy capital to get Exosuit-clad full-spectrum soldiers delivered to your doorstep courtesy of the President. Call me naive if you want, but I think that's enough for one city."

[Karl the Mad]

Marius sat down to his cup of blood, which filled his nose with a sweet aroma and his throat with the taste of angelic ichor. Angel blood was a rare treat for him, and he accepted it for the olive branch it was as he leaned into the seat and listened as the others spoke their pieces.

Herbert was a pacifist, true, but he was a clever pacifist, realizing that to meet Grishnakhal on that one's terms would not end well for anyone. "Perhaps a Montreal Screwjob is in order," he offered. "Make nice with Grish for now, get him to lower his guard... then stab him in the back later, proverbially, and leave him in such a bad situation that no one would ever take him seriously again."

He set his cup down on the table. "I still feel somewhat responsible for the situation regarding that one. I didn't exactly handle my first encounter with him with the grace I should have, for all that it was but a distraction to preoccupy the Keep while Shield did their things elsewhere. Regardless, I'm sure he wants a rematch, on more even terms, and I'm also sure he's been working to improve his skills in preparation. He won't let me cheat again."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aspasia considered Marius' musingsthat Grishkinal was possibly planning for a future rematch, and her curiosity was piqued into how far an immortal would or could continue grudges and perceived slights against things like honor or battle prowess.

She looked at Shen Long, Herbert, and Allocer collectively. "How likely is it that Grishkinal would want a rematch? I know of immortals like Morgana who can carry grudges for entire eras or epochs, but how common is it for an immortal to finally let go of these tethers? Is there a way to have them release them?" she asked.

[IamLEAM1983]

Shen Long shrugged lightly. "I can only speak as a dragon, and as someone who has had to learn the value of forgiveness. Some of us find grudges to be burdensome. Forgiveness is a different matter, but not every Black dragon to have scoured Europe and the Near East cursed some Rus or Mongol bloodlines to a centuries-spanning blood feud. Some, like Aldergard, were more practical. Hate someone all you want, he might reply, but ask yourself if your hatred is worthwhile, in the face of your own centuries."

Allocer sighed lightly. "You've seen Zeke and Azazel before he was uplifted - some demons practically brush off slights instantly. They'd rather remember the offense as a mark of character coming from the perpetrator - something to expect from their vis-à-vis that shapes interactions more than grudges. Now that Azazel also answers to Basil Silverfir, Summer Oathkeeper, he's more likely to react to slights like one of the Sidhe would. I imagine friends and allies get a pass, but the True Fae can be extraordinarily vicious if slighted. I wouldn't be surprised if someone, well, evil, managed to earn Azazel's spite for centuries to come. Not being the Scapegoat anymore, I think he'd express it differently. From what I've seen, the Sidhe can be particularly crafty when it comes to making someone suffer. They can plan it out centuries in advance - preferring torture by way of water drops rather than anything overt like a duel or a fight to the death.

As for my kind, the Knights of the Burning Legion are so infused with the Architect's mission that I've seen a few react almost playfully to insults. Their Ego feels like it's been entirely turned towards the three Planes' protection, so they seem almost unable to take things personally. They're almost always kind, almost always reasonable, and it takes a special kind of evil to push them to flare out their wings and capes, like they did during the War. I'd hardly call them Pride Knights anymore, by that reckoning. The old guard still exists, as I'm a proof of - and not being tied to someone like the Goat's improved our sense of objectivity. I'm guessing fragile Selves still exist in our ranks, but one of them holding a grudge wouldn't bring down an entire deployment on anyone's head. Not anymore, at least."

He gestured vaguely. "Plus, well - you've all met Paimon, by now. Some of us still like to strut like a Duke, talk like a Duke, preen like a Duke and take offense like a Duke - even if they're living off of biweekly wages and have no more power than whatever guns it is they're carrying. We're just lucky Paimon's one of Tom's diehards; he'd throw himself in front of any sword to save virtually anyone. Not necessarily because he likes the person he's saving, but because it's the honorable and, well, Prideful thing to do, by his understanding."

Herbert had to smirk at that. "Oh, I daresay the old boy likes plenty of others, by now. I've seen him challenge Ciaran or Aidan to video game competitions with all the seriousness of a gentleman's duel, and he's turned his repertoire of Celestial slurs into gruff marks of respect. He and Gabriel share drinks, from time to time."

Shen Long nodded. "Would you hold grudges, Herbert?"

That gave the demon pause. He took time to consider his response by taking another sip. "If anyone here or in the tower were abducted, injured or killed? Absolutely," he replied. "Our collective accomplishments fuel my sense of Pride, and to slight one of you is to slight me, in extenso. I would call upon the first available Knight on hand to make my displeasure known if my timetable could not be freed, and I would give frosty and mordant Hell to Miranda's teachers if any were to question her for a few minutes' worth of tardiness on my account.
- And how long would these grudges last?"

Ah, that was the kicker. More thoughtful silence came from the former paper-pusher. "They would be proportional to the offense, on a supernatural being's scale. Lack of consideration towards one of you could result in some bitterness from me for, oh, a few months. Assault would affect it exponentially, pushing it into years. I would need careful observation to re-assess my opinion of the perpetrators and re-evaluate my own emotional responses. Outright injury?"

His eyes darkened. "I would ask my victimized friend to let me sue the offenders to the fullest extent of the law; and I would then rend the offender's life asunder while leaving them unscathed, physically. I would curse them as Marius was once cursed. If one of you were killed, however..."

Shadows seemed to gather around his eyes. "I would weep and drink and smoke for weeks. I would grow despondent, would wallow in my sadness in the immediate - only to find the hard, brittle core of rage at the centre of my melancholy. Once I would touch it, there would be no end to the reckoning I would visit on the offender and all their shared causes. Evil would meet against itself, for once, as I would be endlessly cruel. On the mortal scale, my schemes would dwarf those of any long-standing vampire or Fae, but in the planes beyond, I would deploy armies to all winds. I would want those who would have wounded me as such to have nothing left - and I am perfectly aware that part of this is Pride's Crown influencing me."

Allocer nodded. "Grishnakhal doesn't have your means, but he has your will - or at least, remnants of the Goat's old, imparted will."

The new Prince nodded. "If the old Bailey Keeper shows signs of being agreeable, it will be part of some stunt of his, to be certain. However, his form of Pride is easily mollified. Grudges burn like a thousand suns for us, but so does self-love.
- So how do we turn him into Narcissus?" rhetorically asked Walt, from the side.

Wormsworth smirked. "After referencing Asterix, why not recall The Lord of the Rings? A gift, offered by a preening, seemingly obsequious and cowardly Prince desirous to avoid conflict... His contempt for me and his self-satisfaction should mesh nicely, in this regard.
- We can't just give him Marius," noted Allocer, well aware of how obvious this was.

The Prince gave Vlastos an askance glance. "No, but we could give him a piece of the man. Cloned, preferrably. Not that he would know, of course. A bit of tinkering, and we might succeed in duplicating the etheric signature of his soul, dupe Grish into thinking he has the man's spirit, encased in a phylactery. He could be made to think that a simple crushing motion would be enough to dislocate your soul from your body and send you careening off to Pandemonium," he told the vampire.

[Karl the Mad]

"Fine, but let me fight him one more time, at least," Marius protested, after draining the last of the blood from his cup. "Lies and trickery are fine and well, but nothing soothes the soul and burns the body quite like a no-holds-barred brawl. No offense intended of course, sifu," and he nodded politely to Long.

He set the cup down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "I won't lie, I'm into this for selfish reasons. He insulted me before, and even though I won, it was through a certain form of cheating; it seemed to me we were on even terms before I used my little trick. But win or lose, it should prove interesting, and my own curiosity will be satisfied as well."

He gave Al a smirk. "Granted, I could achieve roughly the same effect by dueling you, milord... but we are allies, are we not? And as Long so aptly put it before, to fight your allies without holding back is somewhat passe."

[IamLEAM1983]

Allocer smirked back. "There's that, and, well, there's the fact that I don't just have Grish's training. He's of the old guard, and I haven't really kept up with the Legion's chivalrous leanings. Following what's happened, I'm one of the rare former Knights that finds some comfort behind a lead-spitter or two. Or three. Like any Pitspawn that adapts to this place, I'm no longer just what I used to be when I first emerged from my own portal."

Herbert canted his head slightly. "How was your incursion, exactly?"

That made the former Duke scoff. "Atypical, to say the least - and probably indicative of a few things, in retrospect. A retinue of Knights clad in black Brimstone steel encircled City Hall and moved outwards from there, controlling what would eventually be the enclave's perimeter. Their orders were clear - they had to restore some semblance of order, even if that meant attacking our own allies. Shepherding survivors that were too stunned to process what had happened was easy enough - and it obviously set the stage for some later defections, including mine. I emerged last, having made a point to be wearing a suit and to carry no weapons. If anyone, from other demons to the angels, broke our perimeter, I'd defend the gathered survivors with my life. Luckily, it didn't come to this. Once things were secure, we set up magic-based loudspeakers of a sort and started broadcasting our promises of food and shelter. People came creeping in, and my... administration was eventually consolidated. From then on, it was just a matter of showing mortals that Pride Knights could handle a nailgun and a laser level as well as any sword, and to supplement our reconstruction efforts with magic."

The Prince seemed surprised. "You don't exactly seem proud of yourself, if I might...
- There's nothing democratic in military occupation," replied Allocer, his tone having darkened slightly. "I told myself I was saving lives, bettering the locals' lot and putting an end to their exposure to open warfare, and I thought I'd studied enough, observed enough to know what was best for everyone else. I was told mortals hated demons and wouldn't compromise without force - and it took Lucifer and Nami to free me from those preconceptions."

He refocused on Marius. "Grish thinks you've only got one choice, one angle of approach. It's what those like me were made to think. Giving ourselves an edge might seem less direct, but it's what makes us morally human."

Long nodded. "You see yourself as human, then.
- Well, maybe humane would be a better term," admitted Allocer. "Mortal life has value, as does supernatural existence - and both of them are flexible; made to withstand the force of something as implacable as Time. Down in the Pit, it's always Now. There's no need for anyone or anything to change, and Grishnakhal is going to need a Hell of a long time to even consider changing his approach, if he ever does. If we give him a traditional duel with no alterations in context or in its conditions, we'll just reinforce conditioning that's already thousands of years old."

The former Knight shrugged. "I could pop a Veil, pretend I've got only thirty or forty years left on the clock, dodge the Accords and act mortal, but it wouldn't be earnest. If someone like me shows honesty and accountability, then it shows the mortal plane isn't a deleterious influence - it's ameliorative."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aspasia sighed as she shook her head and finished her tea. "There's no easy way around someone like Grishnakhal. It wouldn't be the smoothest approach, but you have to get him out of his comfort zone. With us Chimeras, we found some way to adapt; some Fauns just decided they couldn't mesh with Earth culture and booked it back to Paradise, even though they aren't following Rendell anymore. As I previously mentioned, others found the nearest company hiring bodyguards or the like. Another portion settled into more sedate professions and are living ordinary lives."

She nodded her head at Allocer. "Taking him out of his native environment would force him to adapt somehow. For good or for bad, that'd be up to him and would also depend on who's around him. If you give him the right resources, he might turn a corner. It'd take a while, but it's at least feasible."

[Karl the Mad]

Something tightened in Marius' expression, and he looked away from the group for a second. What was so hard to understand... he wanted a fight, Grish wanted a fight, so why the talking? Surely they didn't plan on saving the former Keeper?

Play along for now, the Noise whispered, give them the nice little reformed piece of meat they want. Then go look for the Keeper later. You can evade them easily, after all. Then you will have your brawl...

True, true. He smiled again and paid attention to the chatter once more. "We've got three different plans here, we should probably decide on one and refine it as we move forward. Or we could jump in head first and wing it, though I'll be the first to advocate against such folly." So why suggest it...?