(( So before I write this next journal post I am saying this. I am a huge fan of Steven King, and I grew up on REALLY, REALLY bad slasher B-movies in the 80's. I have, in fact, met Robert Englund, Bruce Campbell, and George Romero because I buy and sell Magic: the Gathering cards for a living and frequent Comic Book conventions as a Career. You do kinda just bump into these people. So in honor of the people I have, in fact, idolized since my youth....
(( And because I'm a comic book writer, and love a good over-the-top story, this Post is just good, old fashioned HAM. This is not meant to be Canonical. And it's contents are somewhat Gory.
It will still be PG-13. But you also have to remember: It was Mortal Kombat's blood system that prompted the Rating of "Mature" with the ESRB.
And these movies are older than the "Mature" rating.
Anyways, it's all in stupid fun! I hope you enjoy!! I will keep it as clean as possible, and if there are any concerns the DM is free to message me and I will remove said post post-haste. ))
THIS. IS. HALLOWEEN!! *DRAMATIC MUSIC, THUNDERBOLT!*
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
It was a Dark and Stormy night when Desmodu enacted....
THE PLAN!!
*Cue Dramatic Organ music.*
Xanadu and Margathera returned home to their abode after several days of harsh negotiations. Xanadu was called in as an emergency diplomat in the Western Heartlands after one of their emissary's had been killed in a violent protest of their activities there.
They returned home with their house-slave, Bernard, the slave who was responsible for driving their carriage. Though they were powerful, they had not yet mastered the Teleportation magic required for their travel.
Though Xanadu was a rather skilled Conjurer, he was only capable of fourth-circle magic. A fact that Desmodu knew, for in his time watching him cast spells he recounted that neither of them cast spells higher than a Fourth-Circle. Xanadu was a RECENT initiate into the Red Wizards, having finally bribed his way into the Conjurer's school. He loved to summon Demons. He worshipped Malcanthet. It was only right he pursued it, and they certainly weren't going to give a damn as long as his gold was good.
But Desmodu had been learning. Desmodu had been waiting.
The magical Charm spell that they had placed him under when they left him home was as simple as they could make it.
"Stay Home. Don't try to leave. Keep the place clean. Don't do anything stupid. And you cannot attack a Red Wizard or his Consorts."
For they believed Desmodu to be a simple slave. They gave him commands that were simple to obey...
And he did. He obeyed them. To the very. Last. Letter.
He did stay home. He did not try to leave. He kept the place clean...squeaky clean. Spotless. From Floor. To Ceiling.
...and booby trapped to the TEETH!.
He thought about all of his plans, considered every possible contingency, and because Desmodu was a brilliant college student, he even obeyed the last directive.
...he did NOTHING "Stupid."
As Bernard entered the house, carrying the couple's luggage upon his back he made eye contact with Desmodu as Desmodu was scrubbing the floor.
There was simple, silent nod.
A deceitful, wicked smile.
All of the slaves were on Desmodu's side. Every. Last. One.
But because of the magical compulsions placed upon them all, they could never attack their owners. They could never attack a Red Wizard or their Consorts. They had to keep the place Clean...and don't do anything stupid." Simple commands. For simple, uneducated people.
But, as anyone who has ever studied LAW can tell you.....and as a master of Lingomancy, which Desmodu is, can certainly tell you...
..."Language is everything."
They could not attack the Red Wizards. At least...not directly. But they could do so INDIRECTLY.
So they set traps. All over the house. Everywhere they would feasibly think they would step. They knew them. They knew their patterns. They knew their schedules. They knew when they took their baths, they knew where and when they ate, what foods they prepared. They knew their RITUALS.
And because their enemy had RITUALS...
..they knew how to circumvent them.
Chaos was their ally. Complete, utter, calculated, CONTROLLED chaos. A perfect mixture of Law and Chaos, Honor, and Lies! A deceit! But also....Salvation.
It was also...their only hope.
Desmodu gave them the one tool that they could use to fight against those who had imprisoned them for so long.
He gave them an EDUCATION.
In secret, when the Slaves were put together, Desmodu taught them.
He taught them to count. He taught them to read. He taught them to plan. He taught them to Strategize.
He taught them biology, and which house-hold items could be made into which poisons.
He taught them basic stage-combat, which he learned in Fight Choreography, to teach them how to avoid a blow. He taught them how to fight. He taught them TECHNIQUE.
He taught them Improvisation Comedy, of which he was a master, and taught them to think on their feet...and ADAPT.
And as an Actor, he taught them the most important tool of all. He taught them how to Lie. But he also taught them how to act natural while doing it. He taught them how to ACT.
He taught them Philosophy, and spoke to them at great length the stories he had heard, and in doing so he taught them History. And thus...how to not repeat it's same mistakes.
He taught them lessons, and metaphors. He taught them the Sign Language he had mastered as a youth on the streets, he taught them how to give subtle signals to each other that would go unnoticed by those who were too busy with their heads held up high to notice them.
Desmodu had everything he needed. Desmodu had an ARMY.
The only problem....the Wizards had MAGIC.
And no Army, however powerful, can hope to stand up to the power of pure Magic.
But Magic can be fought.
With the most powerful Sorcery that the world has ever known.
Magic can be fought...with the power of Science.
Mages must speak to use their spells. However, as a Red Wizard, Xanadu was a specialist Conjurer, and a Metamagic specialist.
Xanadu was a melee fighter, his brother, a failed Thayan Mage, became a Thayan Knight to restore his family honor. He had learned from him martial fighting. Not only was Xanadu a conjurer, and a Demon summoner...he was an Eldritch Knight. An overwhemingly powerful melee fighter who wore heavy armor and carried a tower shield. Desmodu studied his stances, his movements, watching him practice in the yard.
After all: Desmodu was a big, strong slave. And Xanadu loved a good punching bag.
But in his time beating Beaten, it was Desmodu who was learning about THEM.
Xanadu was clumsy. He was mostly blind in his left eye. He was left handed. And he had suffered from a Sugar Sickness over the years that left his fingers with trembles.
Desmodu knew his opponent.
Desmodu knew his weakness.
And Desmodu knew how to exploit it.
When the couple walked downstairs...the fun started to begin.
After they had reached the top of the stairs, they would undress from their travel attire into their Pajamas. Bernard, and the others, learned to count the number of ticks from the Grandfather clock in their house. A feat of Gnomish Engineering that Xanadu had purchased some years ago.
By counting the "Ticks", the "Seconds", they calculated how much time, on average, it took Margathera and Xanadu to get dressed after returning from a long trip. They had made several.
The answer: Three and a half minutes. Give or take ten seconds either direction.
However, they would not get dressed until they had also taken a bath together.
Because they were known Hedonists, and the likelihood of their lack of sexual activity after several days on the road and fierce negotiations as a Diplomat, they were likely quite...ravenous. Being that Xanadu was a follower of Malcanthet, and that Margathera was a follower of the Pain Maiden, Loviatar, the act was likely to be....quite violent, to say the least.
They estimated, that with their current level of exhaustion...Bernard had been monitoring what they ate, the frequency in which they ate..
..he had counted and measured the steps that they had taken, and while he was guiding them around the city he intentionally mislead them down several alleyways.
After all, Bernard was a slave.
Bernard...could not read?
Now...could he? *A Smiley Face with a Tophat and Devil Horns is Drawn Here in the Journal.* And yes, Desmodu is the type of (hero) not afraid to refer to himself in the Third-Person when writing a dramatic story.
NO I'M NOT!!
"OH, COME OFF IT YOU TOSSER!"
"MAN, THIS JOURNAL ENTRY IS SOME OL' BULL---!!"
"GUYS!! GUYS!! I'M TRYING TO TELL A STORY, DAMMIT! THE AUDIENCE IS WATCHING!!!"
"Sorry...""Sorry...Sorry...Sorry Mate.."
"Right, the story of our life! Our favorite subject! Please! Continue!!
"I want some cofee. Hey! Guys!? Who wants a Latte while we listen to this Narcissistic Con Man tell people how great he is!? I know I'm gonna need a drink for this!!
"Oh, Gods, you know it mate. Make mine a double!!
"Seriously, keep 'em coming honey, and mix my ale with some honey mead cause I don't even take my liquor straight..."
AHEM!!!!!
"Right, so, back to my favorite subject: Me! Erm...right...back in character..right...why am I writing what's on my mind, why do I feel the compulsion endlessly to put my thoughts into words, why can't I censor myself? Why!? Why!? What is WRONG WITH ME!? Why can't I Censor MYSE....gods, okay! Shoo, okay, right, fine, you're okay Desmodu, just a little bit of Anxiety...it's alright mate, it's alright, calm down, hey, everything's good...we're all here for each other..."
"Yeah, man. We're here."
"Let's peel their skin off and make a new Coat!"
"SHHH!!! SHUT UP GUYS, THE STORY'S STARTING TO GET GOOD!!"
"HEY! QUIET ON SET, DAMMIT! CAN'T YOU SEE THE ACTORS ARE WAITING!!?
"Sorry!""Sorry!"
"Right, Ahem...."
Bernard had mapped their routes. He had delayed them for several hours, as long as he could, to make their trip last as long as possible in every subtle way he could. He made sure the Kitchen was delayed with backed up orders so their food would arrive cold, requiring it to be reheated. He knew how many extra minutes it took to re-heat food. After all...he had been their Cook.
Over the course of several days Bernard slowly begin to administer poison to them. But not in any traditional sense. Poison was a direct assault on a Red Wizard, after all. The contingencies in their Spell Circles that bound them to them was intricate in including that.
However, Bernard was not adding Poison.
Bernard was adding SUGAR.
Minor amounts. A little extra in the wine. A little extra in their tea. A little extra in their food. He mixed it in with the Salt, to hide the taste.
"It means that you're so sweet that you can't even stomach yourself!"
"BOOO!!"
"GET OFF THE STAGE!!"
"Man, it's a good thing I Write fast, years of Lingomancy will do that to ya..."
"Yeah, well so will years of playing with your..."
"HEY! KEEP IT KID FRIENDLY! THIS IS A PUBLIC FORUM!!
"What's a Forum?"
"Umm...it's an actual phrase in Theatre, it means a public place in which to project one's self and their personal beliefs in opinion in a neutral space."
"Oh! Yeah! Wow! That's Great! Yeah, that's neat!!
"GUYS!!!!!!" *ahem*
Bernard had been slipping minor amounts of Sugar into all of Xanadu's food. He had been overexerting him. And, while he was given the task of cleaning his Thayan Robes he added a little "Something Extra" in to the fibers of the robes.
Potassium Sulfate. Or "Limerock" as it was called to many. Very common in Thay. The slaves that the couple had owned which worked the mineral mines were also slaves they frequently transported into the house. It was easy for them smuggle it, hidden in their pockets and their pants, to get it into the house. They had a very ample supply. Bricks of it. Mounds of it. Hidden within the crawlspaces of the house.
The problem with Limerock is that it leaves a very powerful smell....
But, fortunately...
One of the slaves had conveniently introduced Xanadu to a Drug, frequently grown in the jungles of Chult, of which Desmodu was highly familiar.
A drug known as Devilweed.
Xanadu smoked the substance every day of his life. And he was quite liberal about giving it to the slaves, because it kept them quiet and complacent.
Because it relieved the pain in his foot.
The pain that the Sugar Sickness was eternally causing him.
The house, constantly reeked of it.
Combined with the endless orgies and parties of sin and depravity which took place within the house, the house was constantly of an odor that reeked of a cheap Luskan Cathouse. But it was a smell Desmodu had actually come to enjoy. The smell of Sweat, and Smoke, and of endless Chaos.
...the smell of Home.
It is why Desmodu spends so much in Sharessian Festhalls, after all. It's not the sex, or the music, or the drugs...though he certainly won't complain.
It is because they smell like home.
And the Festhalls are, in fact, his home away from home. For they took him in. They loved his stories, and his fables, and his metaphors. They loved his ferocity and his veracity. He frequently snuck out of college with his friends to go visit them and relieve his stress, any way that he knew how.
After all...he had to stay Sane.
And while Depravity is despicable...
...a Vice is the thing that keeps people Human.
But there was another reason as well.
Many of these Courtesans, professional prostitutes, had been assaulted by men at some point in their life. So they were masters of creating weapons that could easily be concealed.
More to the point: They were weapons...and did not LOOK like weapons.
Courtesans have long since used such devices as a means of self protection. In Rokugan, the women, the "Geisha" they were called, used an intricate hair pin that was interwoven with Razor Wire and a thin, sharp blade called a Stilleto.
And when Desmodu spoke of his plight to them, in the utmost of confidence.....and they were MORE than happy to help. After all, they loved their Laughing Lunatic. And he certainly loved them.
After all, Sharess is the most despised deity to Malcanthet, the Queen of Succubi, who's lust ventures into Sadism and not pleasure.
To them, this was Dogma, and their sacred duty.
And to a Sharessian, because their Dogma is to have fun...
..this was going to be ECSTATIC.!!!"
(( Part 2 after work! *ZOOOOOM!* ))
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
After Xanadu and Margathera had finished...welcoming themselves home...there was a sudden knock at the door.
Margathera, as her fatigued husband rested, got up and walked down the stairs. At the front door, clad in dark robes, were four insanely BEAUTIFUL women.
"Xanadu sent us." the girls smiled wickedly, and seductively. "To Welcome you home...proper..." said the Courtesan, as she teased the collar of Margathera's robe.
After a few moments of flirting, Margathera lead them all upstairs.
For they were all four dressed as Priestesses of Malcanthet.
It was a symbol, a robe, and a costume that Desmodu had learned very well.
And so did they. Every. Single. Minor. Detail.
Their DISTRACTION had arrived.
The girls knew that Margathera and Xanadu would be too tired to participate. However because they intended to rest...and because they enjoyed voyeurism, Margathera being a known Scryer and Enchanter, they loved to simply watch.
The Girls were, sufficed to say, exceptionally well-practiced and skilled at giving a master performance. That's all the details need be said of such.
Desmodu suspected that the girls would have no more than a half hour before Xanadu and Margathera were properly rested and ready to resume their daily schedule. :
The noise made by the girls during their..performance...also served a very important purpose.
It drowned out the noise from everything ELSE.
They had to work fast. Time was of the essence. During the depravity that was occuring only a few closed doors over the Slaves began, with masterful, calculated, PRECISE coordination to move all of the furniture.
Every one of them had a single, but important job. They had rehearsed it for DAYS. Every step. Every contingency. Every single possible, likely scenario. And if those failed, contingencies, backup plans for those scenarios. Desmodu had been planning this for nearly a YEAR. Every. Single. Detail.
When the half hour went by....which they had all been counting the chiming Grandfather clock, like the ticking of a Metronome, or the beating of a Viking Drum...they all stopped what they were doing, even if it was only haphazardly complete, and resumed their positions.
And they never spoke a word, for risk they might be heard.
They used only Thieves Can't by which to "Speak."
And they were as choreographed as Desmodu, a master theatre performer, could possibly prepare them to be.
The Curtain had been drawn.
The Performance of a lifetime was ready to begin.
Margathera exited the room first, followed by Xanadu. This was predicted. He was old, fat, diabetic, tired. But he was still trained by a Thayan Knight, and as strong and as tough as an Ox. She was young, beautiful, the quintessential "Trophy Wife" of a rich, powerful old man of the aristocracy. And she had a thing for athletic, educated, rich older men. Go figure.
As she stepped forward, due to the fact she was protected by the Wards within her home that prevented the slaves from attacking her, she was not protected by her magic when she stepped on the first trap.
A single, Rusty nail, hidden carefully between the floorboards of the house. It jabbed right up between Margathera's toes.
They had measured and calculated the distance from the edge of the door to the spot the nail was to be laid. They knew Margathera. Intimately. They knew how she walked. They knew her gait. They knew how far apart her footsteps were. Especially after she was TIRED.
She marched three steps before the offending tack took hold. She screamed in Agony, unprotected by her usual Magic Wards, and she jumped up and down in agony. But she was a Pain Maiden, she enjoyed Pain. But usually only when she inflicted it upon others. She was small. She was frail. She was good at "Dishing it out." She was not good at taking it. After all...she was rich. Spoiled. She. Never. Had. To.
As she jumped up and down, cursing, and screaming, the first natural response was triggered.
Anytime a Red Wizard is attacked in their home, or more specifically, any time a Red Wizard takes DAMAGE in their home, even from the most minor of things, the House is magically designed to go into the equivelant of a Prison Lockdown.
All Slaves are magically held to the floor, as per the spell "Hold Monster."
They are also magically commanded by the spell "Dominate Person" to immediately fall upon the immediate domination of the Thayan Red Wizards.
In addition, the Red Wizards inside were connected to all of them, simultaneously, as if they under the effects of the spell "Detect Thoughts."
During the time that the other slaves were getting into place, and performing their actions Desmodu...the literal "Star of the show", was doing what all Method Actors do before any big performance.
Especially the literal performance of their LIVES.
Desmodu was getting into Character.
Desmodu was getting into ALL OF THE CHARACTERS. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US, IN HIS HEAD!!!"
"WHOO HOO!! YEAH!! WHOOO!! GO DESMODU! WHOO!!
Persona Immersion. That is what the greatest actors call it. Persona Immersion. It is a skill used by Changelings, Doppelgangers, Succubi, Rakshasa, ALL of the creatures who use their natural power of shapeshifting to assume other roles.
And Hlal was the Shapeshifter. The Trickster. He had learned his ways.
AND HE HAD LEARNED THEM WELL!!
He used his own Scizophrenia, immersing himself so deep into every persona, every voice, every echo within his mind and he convinced them all, for their own survival, that in order to get out of this they ALL had to work together. To one, single goal: Their Survival!
And there is no greater friendship, no greater alliance, than when all people have the same enemy!!
He let loose every FIBER of his insanity! He embraced it! He shattered the walls between the personas within his mind, and he combined all of their skills! All of their strategies! All of their perspectives!
DESMODU WAS LEGION!!!!
"AND THEY WERE GOING TO KILL THESE CREEPS! BAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
(( Part 3 after food! xD ))
Last edited by kitteninablender on Tue Oct 30, 2018 12:54 am, edited 1 time in total.
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
Margathera was rushed, carried actually, to the Infirmary. The house was well-prepared for Invaders. They were Thayans, after all, spies and assassins lingered over every corner.
Margathera was a Diviner. Every "Guest" that came into the house was screened for political connections. Background checks. Everything that these people could get on them in case they ever betrayed them.
The followers of Malcanthet were no exception.
But the Sharessians KNEW the followers of Malcanthet. Intimately. Their parties had sometimes...intertwined.
They knew them as well as they knew themselves.
The girls used illusionary magic to disguise their appearances, taking on the exact image of the four Malcanthetians who frequented their home. Every detail, every mole, every tattoo, perfectly memorized. After all, Desmodu had seen these women naked countless times.
And Desmodu had the gift of the most basic theorem of Lingomancy.
Desmodu had an Eidetic Memory. He. Remembered. EVERYTHING.
Every detail, every brushstroke of their tattoos, every strain of their hair as he knew them. Up close. And personal. He knew their SCENT. He knew their fingernails, their toenails. Every detail. And he shared it with the Sharessians. And these girls were courtesans, after all. They knew how to put on a show...
It turns out when you're pretending to do something you actually enjoy doing...you tend to do it VERY WELL!!!"
"Preach it Brother! WHOOHOO!!"
Desmodu then had to prepare to do what he had been preparing for three days.
The days he had spent weaving the interconnected spellcircles into the floor, into the walls, into the ceilings. Made invisible through illusionary magic interwoven into the writings and into the spells to conceal them from Human sight.
They were in their HOME, after all, they never cast their wards! It was the only way Margathera ever felt relaxed...was when she was not covered in SPELLS.
Desmodu knew they could not see them, concealed upon the walls and the floor, under the floorboards! With the utmost of speed, the slaves flipped open the floor boards of the house and Desmodu scribed the runes underneath the very floorboards.
They were in Netherese. A Language that, due to his study of History, he knew well!
And just as there once existed Netherese Blast Scepters.
There also existed Netherese Blast RUNES!!!!"
This Entire House. From one end unto the other. In every crevice. Under every piece of furniture. Inside every NOOK AND CRANNY. Some of them as small around as a copper piece!! But Desmodu was a master LIngomancer, a master scribe, a playwright, and a poet! When it came to his HANDWRITING. And when it came to his ACCURACY.
HE. WAS. A. SURGEON!!!! AS HE HAD BEEN IN THE ZHENTARIM ARMY! A FIELD MEDIC!! BECAUSE HE HAD STUDIED BIOLOGY!!
A Skill that Desmodu had developed over YEARS of practice. Calligromancy. A Subset of Lingomancy. Lingomancy was the use of WORDS. Calligromancy was the use of WRITTEN WORDS.
Due to his years of depravity, Desmodu's hands were works of art. They had the finesse by which to remove complicated...undergarments...after years of practice.
As a trained Magician, Desmodu had developed within his hands, from years of practice, a near perform form of AMBIDEXTERITY.
With his fascination in Language, is master of the understanding of Core Linguistics, and with the Manual Dexterity gained from being a sleight of hand magician Desmodu could write two spell-circles simultaneosly, one with each hand, with such SURGICAL precision and precise Eidetic memory that they were flawless. More to the point...
All of his multiple personalities were in UNISON. And they were ALL just as smart as he is...
EACH CIRCLE HAD A TEAM OF EXPERTS!! AND THEY. WERE. GOOD!!!
BUT THERE IS A PRICE FOR KNOWLEDGE. THERE IS A PRICE FOR TRUTH. THERE IS A PRICE FOR ENLIGHTENMENT.;
YOU. MUST. GO. MAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"AND SO WE DID!! WE WENT MAD!! WE WENT REAL MAD!!
AND THEN AFTER WE WENT MAD...
WE GOT MAD!!!
WE. GOT. PISSED!!!
"And we did....with a Hiss. The Hiss of a Monster. Not the Hiss of a Dragon. Not the Hiss of a Yuan-Ti. Not the Hiss of a Dinosaur, which Desmodu had come to know oh. So. Well.
It was a Hiss...of a Devil.
But more to the point...it was a hiss of...THE Devil.
The first Devil. The first Evil. The first Sin. Little Horn. He Most Fallen. He who introduced man to Sin.....
...DESMODU...had changed his name. An Anagrim. A Mispelling. A word puzzle. Like he always did. Like he always knew.
Desmodu desired endless knowledge. Desmodu yearned for nothing more than his Freedom.
A life free of suffering, and torment.
A life free of Ownership.
But We knew that even with all they had. Even with all of the planning they could possibly do. Even with every contingency, every act of preparation, they could NOT prepare for the one thing, the one thing that NO Engineer. NO Scholar. NO PRIEST. NO MAN CAN EVER OUTWIT!"
"WE COULD NOT OUTWIT MISS FORTUNE! AND SO WE MADE A DEAL!
A HUGE DEAL!!
THE ONLY DEAL!!
WE NEEDED TO BE RID OF MISS FORTUNE!!
WE NEEDED THE LUCK OF THE DEVIL HIMSELF!!!
THE MOST INSANE GAMBIT THEY COULD MAKE!! THE MOST UNPREDICABLE!! THE MOST PROFANE!! THE MOST DAMNING OF THEM ALL!!
THEY WOULD NEGOTIATE NOT WITH A BEING OF CHAOS, FOR BEINGS OF CHAOS LIE. BEINGS OF CHAOS BREAK THEIR WORD.
AND A DEVIL IS BOUND BY LAW!!
THE OLDEST LAW!!
THE ONLY LAW!!
THE MOST INSANE GAMBIT AGENTS OF CHAOS COULD EVER PERFORM!!
HE! BECAME! LAWFUL!
WE WOULD GIVE OUR SOULS!!!
IF ONLY TO BE FREE!!!
WE. ARE.
LEGION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AND OUR LORD AND SAVIOR, ASMODEUS!!
WE!! ARE!! ALL!!
YOURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!""""
(( Next part tomorrow..after work..bedtime. ))
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
"We remember the story well...it was, perhaps, the greatest show we had ever perfor..."
"Guys! Not at all once please! Seriously! That echo is annoying.
Sorry mate
"Anybody want some coffee? I got a bunch during the intermission?"
"Yeaaaah! Whoo hoo!"
" Yeah! Pass it over! Man, this is great, did WE make this?"
"Yeah, pretty sure we did. This the Dark Roast?"
"It's from Thay."
"Thayan Coffee? Good gods, this gonna need some Liquor.."
"Hey, go ahead man, I ain't listening to this crap sober."
"Us Either."
"AHEM!!!"
"Right, sorry boss, please! Continue!"
"Right, so...AHEM..."
Rage. Pure. Unbridled. Rage. Years of Rage. Years of abuse. Years of torment. Years of frustration. YEARS.
Raw, Arcane power poured from Desmodu. Every spell. Every enchantment that he could cast upon himself.
Xanadu and Margathera knew he was in Bard's college. But he told them he wanted to be a Chef.
Because he did. He learned cuisines and exotic flavors from all over the world. His Mother, "Mama Raven" she was called, cooked all of the food his father had grown, and shared it with their community. For in Chult, there was no REAL established government, outside of the city of Mezro. The Jungles were wild. The Jungles were FREE. But they were also filled with monsters, making civilization difficult.
He cooked for them Dinosaur Meat from his homeland.
And he had been doing the same thing Bernard had been doing.
Slowly. Slighly. Barely noticeably adding Sugar to Xanadu's food.
The months spent feeding him made him fat. Lethargic. And as he got Lethargic, Desmodu attended to his "Master." He put on his shoes for him, and he helped him get dressed. He "Stepped up" to be the best slave he could be, in thanks for his Masters giving him his education.
Because just as much as he despised them...he did, in fact, owe them. And so he put up with their indignities for just a while longer. He helped Xanadu take a bath. He helped Xanadu polish his Sword, and his Shield, and he..."
"PSH!! I BET HE HELPED HIM POLISH HIS WEAPON!"
"BAHAHAHA!!!"
"WE ARE TRYING TO TELL A STORY HERE! ONE MORE OUTBURST AND I SHALL BURN YOU ALL WITH HELLFIRE!!"
"Sorry...we'll shut up now..."
"Thank you, now, once again. AHEM!"
Desmodu had helped Xanadu polish his weapons, maintain his clothes. He folded his robes and he kept his room clean. As Xanadu was having more and more difficulty getting out of bed, due to his old age, his nerve damage, and his fatigue Desmodu helped him. He even, sometimes, carried him to the Bath when his pain was too great. Too overwhelming. But Margathera was a Loviataran. If he had gone to a Priest for his pain, she would have left him.
And as odd as they were, it was no doubt, they loved each other very much. Too much.
It was arguable that they may have even been considered Soul Mates, odd as it was.
And, more to the point: It was LITERAL.
The only spell that Xanadu ever kept constantly cast upon himself in the House, because he was otherwise protected by the Magical Wards, was the spell "Shield Other."
Xanadu's wedding Ring, a black band with crimson runes and lettering, was magically enchanted. As most Red Wizard rings are. The spell literally connected the two of them together.
They were eternally linked, telepathically. They could communicate with each other over any distance, as long as they were on the same plane.
And, more to the point: it allowed Xanadu to take Margathera's Pain from her.
Margathera was a Loviataran, but she was a Pain Mistress. A Pain Mistress sadistically inflicted pain upon others.
But, as Margathera was a spoiled, rich child of the nobility, married to an Older Red Wizard to increase her father's Political position within the hierarchy, she was not good at TAKING pain.
And so Xanadu, because he loved her, and because Pain was something he knew all of his life...took her pain FOR HER, so that she did not have to ever feel discomfort. For he promised her, when they were married, that she never would.
"Awwwwwww....."
**COUGH!!***
"Sorry..."
Desmodu began his assault...in the infirmary.
Bernard, who was also a first aid medic, took Margathera to the Hot Bath. It was well-warded with numerous circles inside of it. They were enchanted with Healing Magic, provided by the Priests of Loviatar. They would regenerate anyone who was inside of it, healing them of their physical wounds. It could also be used to purge poisons. Over time, with enough time, it could even regrow damaged limbs.
But Sugar...is not a poison. The time that Xanadu spent within the healing waters of the Hot Spring inside of it did nothing to purge his system.
And while the waters would revitalize Xanadu, and give him a short burst of energy...the Sugar Sickness would always fatigue him again, requiring another "Soak."
Bernard carried Margathera into the hot spring, and he layed her inside, allowing the warm, refreshing waters of the spring to wash over her foot.
But there was a problem. The Nail was still inside of her foot. He would have to pull it out.
It was in her Foot.
Her. Left. Foot. The same foot which Xanadu lumbered upon. The foot that caused him unspeakable pain.:
And Margathera and Xanadu were connected. He felt the Nail go into his foot at the same time she did, because he took from her her pain.
But because Xanadu did not SEE it happen, the slaves made sure of that, he merely blamed it on another "Flare up" of his foot. It was in pain all the time, after all.
Desmodu, who had been getting into character, to prepare to slaughter these two within their homes, began to act while Margathera was in the bath tub. Bernard, of course, was in the tub with her, naked. For she did enjoy his company, and enjoyed soaking in a warm bath with her attractive male slaves.
But the slaves, of course, could not drown her. They could not attack her. They were magically commanded and magically warded by the circles within the house.
But when the nail went into Margathera's foot, triggering the defense mechanisms of the House...Desmodu was preparing.
Not only had Desmodu gotten into "Character" as the Devil Himself, ready to let loose his rage upon all of them, he had also negotiated one last thing with the clergy of Sharess. The women who loved him. And he loved them. Priestesses who were sworn to a sacred duty to destroy agents of Malcanthet and rid the world of her depravity. For though Sharessians are themselves depraved, in a sense....they are also not malicious.
Desmodu, having lived in the house, had broken into the vault. They were protected by Magical Runes.
Runes Desmodu had, in secret, learned to decipher.
Runes Desmodu had learned, in secret, to CONTROL.
Desmodu had broken into the house, and stolen all of their GOLD. ALL. OF. IT. It was nearly a hundred thousand coins in cash. And he did so one Tophat at a time.
Little amounts of Gold, at a time. A few hundred, a few thousand, here and there. Stuffed within the secret compartment of his hat...he was a Magician after all. Stuffed within his boots. Stuffed within his Hat. Every night, as the couple slept, Desmodu would break free from the room where he and his "Brothers" were stored when he was not being used as a blood bag in the Inner Sanctum. He was a magician, after all.
And it turns out Escape Artistry might be a valuable skill not only to a Magician...but a man who is always kept in CHAINS.
Over the course of months, Desmodu had stolen countless gold. But because Margathera and Xanadu had a line of "Credit" with the Enclave, that they paid back in one large lump sum (with interest) at the end of each month, they never touched it until they needed to pay a debt. Meaning they didn't notice it as it disappeared in tiny amounts.
Desmodu, during his time at the Bard's College, had learned math. More to the point...accounting.
Desmodu was "Cooking their books."
Desmodu was embezzling money from their "Business" by creating unnecessary expenditures. Writing it off. A few extra coins "Here and there" for Food, supplies for the house, so on so forth. But because Desmodu was a master mathematician he was able to "Hide" the money in various ways. And then when he laundered the money, so that the "numbers" in the vault always came out even....he smuggled the gold out of the house, and it never went noticed.
Desmodu had used the gold, and given it to the Sharessians to order a Very. Special. Magic item.
A Magic Item that was unique. And Valuable. And RARE.
A ring that cost 98,000 gold pieces, give or take a few copper.:
Desmodu bought a Ring of THREE WISHES!!"
And because of his skills in magical manipulation, his skills in Language. His skills in Lingomancy, Calligramancy, his studying of Law, History, and his ability to plan...
..his wishes were VERY. CAREFULLY. WORDED.
And they were all about to go off..."
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
However, as well trained as the Slaves were...they were not mages. They had no skill in magic. Only in timing. Only in choreography.
Desmodu needed more people...like him. People who could inscribe the circles with accuracy.
And while Desmodu was possessed of many individual MINDS...
he was only a single body.
And so...he changed that.
There were four spell-clusters in the house that would have to be simultaneously disabled in order to bring down all of the magical defenses of the house.
The problem is that they all had contingencies written into them so that if one of them was ever disabled the others would immediately act, triggering the house's defenses.
And one of the house's defenses...was an explosive rune.
An Explosive Rune forcefully tattooed onto the back of their necks.
A rune that, if it exploded, would explode right at the base of their brain, killing them instantly.
A literal "Killswitch."
They would all have to be disabled...at the same time.
And Desmodu was the only person who knew how to do it.
The issue is: If any of the Runes upon the slaves were disabled the house's defenses would immediately trigger.
They all had to go away. All at once. It was the only way the slaves could ever fight back without instantly being killed. And that was assuming they had the strength of will to overcome the Domination magic that would keep them silently obedient.
During his time as a Zhentarim conscript Desmodu had heard well of their Founder. A very powerful Mage. A Mage who kept extra bodies around, "Clones", that his soul could travel into in the event that he was ever killed. (( This was before they all "Woke up" by about 17 years. ))
The Mage Desmodu had heard of...was none other than "The Manshoon."
Desmodu recruited some Help. And, after all..
He was the best man for the Job.
And now, there was plenty of him to go around....
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
The second wish was a bit more complex, and infinitely strange. But because of Desmodu's skills, it was in fact carefully worded.
The Clones Desmodu had created were each only bodies. Soulless. Empty. Mindless.
In order for this plan to work, they each had to be as smart as he was.
And so Desmodu, through an act of Blood Magic which he had come to despise divided up the one thing he had amongst them all, evenly.
He gave to them his MIND.
He gave to them his SOUL.
And he gave to them his VOICE.
And because Desmodu's mind was shattered, the fragile barriers between his personalities destroyed as he had succumb fully to the power of his Madness..
...he poured himself into them.
Or, more to say...
He poured his PERSONALITIES into them.
Every. Single. One of them.
To be more specific...he created Six.
Six Copies.
Six. Clones.
Six. Six. SIX.....
Into the First, he poured his Passion. Or, to be more precise...he poured into it his "LUST." For he had to act with a clear mind, free of distraction.
Into the next...he poured his "GLUTTONY" For in order for this plan to work, he would have to go several days without eating as he fervently worked, and he needed the self-control.
Into the next...he poured his "GREED." For in this plan, he would have to share every piece of himself. Including his own Mind. Including his own Soul. He could horde for himself...nothing.
Into the next: He poured his "Envy" For Desmodu needed to plan. He needed to THINK. And it is hard to think when one is Envious. And he was. He was Envious of Margathera and Xanadu's home, and their love for each other. He needed to be free of this, for it clouded his thoughts.
Into the next he poured his Defiance. Or, to call it by it's proper name...He poured into it his "HERESY." Desmodu had always been a free-thinker. A defyer. An Anarchist. He despised Slavery, and he fought it wherever he could. Slavery from Governments. Slavery from Tyrants....
....Slavery from even GODS!!!!!, For there are no greater Tyrants than They!!!
Into the next he poured something he despised most of all. Something he would need to be rid of. For Desmodu HATED these people. Despised them. Wanted them DEAD for the torture they were to inflict upon him. And he could not strike before the moment was JUST right.
Because one slip-up. One mistake. ONE miscalculation...could cost them everything.
No, Desmodu needed to quell his Rage until the moment was JUST right.
And so, into this one, he poured into it his "WRATH!!"
And...within Himself....for he would need every ounce of his Wit. Every ounce of his Guile. Every ounce of his SKILLS as an Actor and a Performer.
He had always used his skills as a Master SEDUCER.
He had always used his devil-tongue for endless PANDERING.
He had always filed a fake smile, and gave honeyed words in the name of FLATTERY.
Desmodu was an Actor. A skilled playwright. A man who's life was so bad, so chaotic, so full of pain and Misery...that he put on a Mask.
He put on a Mask every day of his life.
He put on a mask with every joke.
He put on a mask with every quip.
He put on a mask with every LIE.
Desmodu kept within him the Sin that purveyed him most of all.
Desmodu, himself....
...was a "FRAUD."
But as a Fraud Hlal loved him.
As a Trickster, Hlal favored him.
And, as her PALADIN OF FREEDOM....
...Hlal had even BLESSED him.
But in this moment Desmodu kept within himself THE WORST of all Sins.
For in the deepest layer of Hell is for TREACHERY!!
For in the Deepest Layer of Hell is the FIRST TRAITOR!!
THE GREATEST TRAITOR! THE LIAR! THE DECEIVER! THE FIRST OF THE FALLEN!!
FOR IN THE DEEPEST LAYER OF HELL IS NONE BUT ASMODEUS HIMSELF!!
AND DESMODU HAD BETRAYED HLAL IN THE WORST MEANS POSSIBLE!
THE PALADIN OF FREEDOM...HAD BECOME A BLACKGUARD!!
THE PALADIN OF FREEDOM....SOLD HIS SOUL TO THE GREATEST TYRANT OF THEM ALL!!
FOR THE LAST SIN DESMODU KEPT WITHIN HIMSELF WAS THE ROOT OF ALL SIN!!
HE KEPT WITHIN HIM THE SIN OF PRIDE!!!
AND YES, THE RAINBOW PRIDE TEXT. PUN. FULLY. INTENDED!!!
WHOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
((Next chapter in the next few days! *goes to bed. ))
Last edited by kitteninablender on Mon Nov 19, 2018 10:22 am, edited 3 times in total.
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
As Bernard pulled the Nail from Margathera's foot, she screamed in pain. But because the Infirmary was on the other side of the house, Xanadu could not hear her.
His years of loud parties, loud music, the constant chiming of the Grandfather Clock, and his diabetes had rendered Xanadu mostly deaf. And the mansion was huge.
Ergo when he received the sudden jolt of pain within his foot, he attributed it to his Sugar Sickness. Nothing more.
Xanadu was on his way to take a soak in the very same rejuvenating pool Margathera was currently residing in, to take a bath with his wife and slaves. Something he did very often.
Xanadu got up, and he began to leave his room. He got up, he put on his red house robes, and he proceeded to the Infirmary.
He did everything the slaves had planned him to do.
Because of Xanadu's foot, however, Xanadu never took the stairs. Instead, he had a spiral Ramp that went from the upper hallway down directly into his pool, so that he could walk, with the support of a hand-rail, from his room to the spa. Convenient for a crippled old man.
As he stepped into the hallway, however, he was prepared to step into an area RIDDLED with traps.
After all: After Margathera had stepped on the nail it was Bernard who had CARRIED her to the Infirmary.
And like a well-choreographed dancer, which he was thanks to Desmodu, Bernard knew EXACTLY. WHERE. TO. STEP.
They had rehearsed it for over a day...and had subtley marked it with tiny niches in the floorboards to mark the area free of traps. And Bernard had carried her down the stairs...which were themselves free of traps.
After all, they could not risk them stepping upon them when going up to their room when they got home.
And the Runes containing the trap triggers were under the floorboards.
So while Margathera, Xanadu, and the "Malcanthetians" were engaged in their "activities" in the bedroom, the moans and noise from the "Malcanthetians" drowning out the noise..
They ripped up the Floorboards containing the invisible trap glyphs..
..and they FLIPPED THEM OVER, arming the traps!!
The first strap Xanadu stumbled onto was a magical glyph which was linked to a spring-loaded Trebuchet that they had engineered, and put into the yard.
It was angled, perfectly, fired again, and again, and again until it's accuracy was assured.
The Trebuchet hurled, through the open window...a keg of Alchemist Fire.
..and it hit Xanadu right in the HEAD before exploding like a Grenade!!
BOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The shock was sudden, and fierce, and coated Xanadu in a layer of thick Alchemist fire, which was akin to Napalm. His skin was burning, and he was screaming in agony.
Normally, due to his magical wedding ring, Margathera would have also felt his pain and his distress, which would alert her that her husband was in Danger.
But Margathera...currently had a nail wedged deep into her foot, between her toes.
She was already under pain and distress of her own....she did not NOTICE Xanadu's in addition to her own.
After all, Margathera could not handle pain. She was already in the worst pain she could be...
...at least, SO FAR.
Margathera felt her body burning, as was Xanadu's, and she screamed. She screamed as loud as she could. But the Slaves had already anticipated this.
Both entrances to the Infirmary had been magically warded with a Glyph.
A modified Glyph of "Silent Portal."
Margathera could not HEAR the explosion, nor his panicked footsteps.
And Xanadu could not hear her screams...
The house was already on lockdown because of the Nail Margathera had stepped upon...and because the alarm was already tripped, it could not be tripped AGAIN.
"TO YOUR CAGES!!!!" Xanadu shouted.
For Xanadu knew that the magic protecting the house after it was in Lockdown immediately put the slaves under his complete mental domination.
However, because Xanadu could only cast 4-th circle spells he could not weave the spell of Dominate Person which gave him TELEPATHIC control over his slaves...
..his slaves had to HEAR him, to obey his VERBAL commands...
...and the Slaves were on the other side of a barrier of SILENCE.
They could not HEAR him.:
And thus they could NOT OBEY.
But they could still be commanded by Margathera. Because they currently were.
And they were all with her, being ordered to remove the nail from her foot and attend to her.
And they were doing exactly as they were commanded to.
However, Margathera simply gave them the commands to "Get the nail out! Get it out now!"
And they tried to pull it out quickly. Which only caused her MORE Pain.
"AHHH!!! SLOW! SLOW! SLOW! EASY!" She commanded.
And so they did. Very, very slow.
...which gave Desmodu all the time that he needed. For he had ANTICIPATED THIS.
With Xanadu on fire, he was flailing about uncontrollably. He stumbled down the hallway, just past the entrance to the Stairway which lead him down to his pool.
Desmodu NEEDED him to go down that Ramp. And thus, he had anticipated a contingency just in case he did not.
Another trap, just on the other side of the door. This magical glyph linked to a spring-loaded launcher hidden within an alcove of the wall.
Attached to this spring-loaded mechanism was a Dagger, which when released would fly right in the direction of where Xanadu would be standing.
The dagger flew through the air, with precision timing, and stabbed Xanadu in the leg.
His GOOD leg. Desmodu had calculated the angle. Desmodu had calculated the trajectory. He knew it would aim for the legs.
If hit his good leg, it was great, because it now meant that both legs were crippled.
And if it hit his bad leg...it only meant it was crippled more. Either way was good for Desmodu.
Xanadu lumbered back, and then proceeded to run down the spiral ramp down to his pool.
Desmodu knew exactly what he was going to do.
If you are on Fire, and you have a Ramp that leads directly to a rejuvenating pool...what would YOU do!?
Xanadu RAN, as fast as his crippled legs could carry him, and ran directly to the rejuvenating pool.
The house's defense systems reacted to the Flame from the Alchemist Fire, triggering magical Rainfall inside of the house. A literal magical Sprinkler system designed to douse all fires in the house.
But Alchemist Fire cannot be doused by water. For it is an Oil-based Fire. And Oil-Based fires could only be put out by neutralizing the catalyst for the fire, usually with Baking Soda or Talcum Powder.
Water. Did. Nothing.
But Xanadu was a Mage. Xanadu was NOT a Chemist....that was Margathera's department.
Xanadu. Did. Not. Know this.
And to make matters even worse...his Robes were helping him BURN.
Bernard had spent the past several days coating his Robes with Potassium Sulfide. "Limerock." The powder from which easily absorbed into the fabric of his Bath Robes and his Clothes.
All of which had been upon his SKIN for several days.
And Limerock dust, Potassium Sulfide, CAN SEEP INTO THE SKIN. It's why you are supposed to wear GLOVES when you handle it. And the slaves all did. They never touched it with their hands. But Margathera and Xanadu had.
They would burn. The slaves would not.
Water began to sprinkle down into the infirmary, the Rain, which was magically enhanced by Desmodu's own Storm Magic, began to pour down upon them both.
And as the Slaves were pulling the nail from Margathera's Foot, and as she was screaming in pain...
...the water struck her skin, and her Robes, which were just as treated as Xanadu's.:
And she was set ABLAZE!!!!
"PUT ME OUT!! PUT ME OUT!!!" she commanded.
But the slaves could not touch her.
After all: No form of Domination Magic, except the most vile, can FORCE someone to harm themselves.
And if they attempted to touch her...they would burn themselves.
...and they had, conveniently.."Misplaced" the Fire Blanket inside of the Infirmary....
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!
"We....we can't, Ma'am!! We Can't!!!" the Slaves yelled.
Because it was true. They were literally uncapable. There was no fire blanket. There was no Talcum powder. There was nothing available in the Infirmary that the slaves could use to put her out.
Because they had REMOVED IT ALL from the house...save for the Limerock that was lining the inside of the walls...:
...and the entrances to those crawlspaces were LOCKED to prevent their entry. They had anticipated this as well...
...and Desmodu intentionally did not teach them to pick locks for this VERY reason. Only Desmodu could unlock the doors in the house. And Desmodu was not within Earshot, and thus he could not obey.
Desmodu had anticipated this as well. She would order the slaves to put her out.
And so he made it so they could NOT.
And no form of Domination Magic can force you to do something...THAT YOU CAN NOT DO!!!
And so they both BURNED!!!!
And if you were on Fire, and you were in the Infirmary next to a magical pool which would regenerate your wounds....
What. Would. YOU. Do!?
The timing was coordinated perfectly. They had anticipated how quickly they would each catch on fire. They anticipated how quickly they would burn.
They anticipated the paths they would EACH take to the Rejuvenation Pool.
And when they both jumped into the Rejuvenation Pool, at the same time...
...they jumped into the clear waters of their Regeneration Pool...
Desmodu had learned a horrible secret in his time living next to a Volcano. Something years of experience had taught him.
You add too much combustible Limerock to water. Buckets of it. It will dissolve instantly.
But it will also do something to the water itself.
Potassium Sulfide in enough quantity...
...can turn water into SULFURIC ACID.
They Flailed!!! They Screamed!! They shouted!!
AND THE SILENT GLYPHS MEANT NOONE HEARD A THING!!
The "Malcanthetians", the Sharessians in Disguise, had already made their way out of the house, letting themselves out the front door, avoiding the traps down the hall and then RUNNING down the stairs to the front door, which was not boobie trapped. After all, Desmodu could not risk them accidentally setting something off before they were in their room.
Timed. Coordinated. Perfectly executed. The Sharessians hurried back to the Festhall, making sure to be across town and unable to be blamed for what was about to happen next.
As Xanadu and Margaretha flayed and screamed, being cooked alive in the acid of their rejuvenation pool, they were simultaneously being burned by the acid...
...and regenerated by the water's Magic.
The Acid could not kill them.
But the Acid could BURN them.
...endlessly.
The problem, of course, is that they were both mages. They both had access to MAGIC.
All it would take is one spell. One Energy Immunity. One Dimension Door. One spell which could ruin the entire plan. It is difficult to cast a spell when your fingers twitch. It's even harder when you are being held down by Slaves who were trying to remove a nail in your foot.
It is even harder when you had been fed Sugar for the past few days, and your Sugar Sickness was eating at you.
It is even harder to do when you are in agonizing pain.
And it is especially even Harder to do...
WHEN YOU ARE ON FIRE!!!!"
"YEAH!! WHOO HOO!! GO DESMODU!! WE'RE AWESOME!!""
"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT WE ARE!! YEE-HAW!!!!!"
*AHEM*
The Last Wish, a single-remaining charge upon his magical Ring, was currently un-used.
After all, Desmodu had planned this too.
Each of the Slaves surrounding the pool closed their eyes, and they looked down at Xanadu and Margathera.
As they burned, as they screamed, unable to cast their spells, within the magical Glyph of Silence that prevented Xanadu from casting his spells he had prepared with a Metamagic of Still Spell....
Desmodu knew which spells Margathera prepared. She was a Priestess. She could not teleport, for Loviatar possessed not the Travel Domain.
All of the spells that Margathera kept prepared were ones used to inflict PAIN. And they would do no good here.
Xanadu, however, DID prepare spells of Dimension Door for a quick escape should he need it.
And Xanadu was a Red Wizard Conjurer. His prohibited schools were Enchantment and Illusion. He did, in fact, keep Dispel Magic prepared at nearly all times. Which is why he had Margathera provide the spells for the spell circles. Because Margathera could cast Domination spells. Loviatar, after all, had the Tyranny Domain, which gave her access to the Domination magic.
And Xanadu also kept prepared a Stilled Dispel Magic.
But Xanadu was injured. Xanadu was under water. Xanadu was on fire. Xanadu was being scorched by Acid....
...and so was the love of his life.
And he was also feeling all of her pain, in addition to his.
For Xanadu's Ring was one of Onyx.
And Onyx cannot be dissolved by Acid.
With all of these factors, the pain, the anguish, the agony, sharing of the pain with his wife who was feeling as much torture as he. His pain magnified beyond all reason. His pain magnified beyond anything he had ever known.
To put it in no uncertain terms...
...he could not Concentrate.
For the first time in his life the cold-calculating Wizard could not concentrate. He could not focus as he did upon his glyphs, he could not focus as he could upon his scrolls and his intricate sigils.
Desmodu knew that Xanadu was as good, better even, at drawing magical spell circles than he himself was. After all, it was from Xanadu that Desmodu had studied Thayan Spell Circles, and their application with Calligromancy...
And Calligromancy requires perfect concentration.
But if you cannot concentrate, as Desmodu cannot because of his mental afflictions...
...it requires PRACTICE.
It is the same as a magician performing a sleight of hand. It requires practice. It requires developing Muscle Memory and Metacognitive skills. It is why we can walk. It is why we can breathe.
...and it is also why Magicians can Juggle, roll coins, and throw cards.
Practice. Makes. Perfect.
Concentration be DAMNED.
Desmodu knew everything he needed to do to disrupt Xanadu's concentration.
Because he had struggled to concentrate ALL. OF. HIS. LIFE!!
And they watched them burn.
And they watched them scream.
And they watched them SUFFER..
...and they did it for HOURS....
.....and WE loved it!!!...
After several hours of suffering.
After several hours of Agony.
After several hours of screaming..
They finally went Silent.
For though the Acid could not kill them, due to the regenerative properties of the pool...
...they eventually passed out from the Pain.
As Desmodu had done countless times before.
He has passed out, again, and again, only to be awoken at the next sunrise for even more.
His teeth were torn from his head, only to be thrown into this very same pool to Regenerate them for the following day....only to be done again.
There was a reason his teeth were perfect.
..it is because, each day...
...they were brand new.
There was a reason he had no scars....
...they healed them every day.
There was a reason he was considered a physically perfect specimen.
...they would not have sex with an ugly sex slave.
And there was a reason that he was so indominable.
..it is because he knew Pain every day.
He was used to it.
But more to the point: He LEARNED from it.
For if you cannot learn a lesson from PAIN.
You are, simply, too stupid to learn.
And Desmodu was many things.
But stupid was not one.
And as Margaretha and Xanadu began to pass out from the pain, in their pool, which was deep enough for them to completely submerge..
..they began to Drown.
And after they drowned to death...they were no longer living.
And because they were no longer living...they were no longer being regenerated by the magic of the pool.
And their bodies dissolved into nothingness.
And because the Pool was magically designed to filter out and remove Blood...they were Blood Mages, after all....:
...they were dissolved into naught but blood.
...and then they were Disintegrated into nothing at all....
No bodies.
No blood.
No EVIDENCE.
...and NO SURVIVORS.
The way that the ZHENTARIM HAD TAUGHT HIM DURING HIS CONSCRIPTION!!"
"WHOO HOO!! GO DESMODU! WE RULE!!"
The plan had succeeded.
Margathera and Xanadu were dead.
But there was one final thing that needed to be done.
If the Malcanthetians ever returned to the house, they would surely discover or even suspect the Foul Play. Malcanthetians are known for using Legend Lore to find out information about people so that they can blackmail them and know whom to seduce.
Desmodu could not risk anybody knowing of his plans. But just as Margathera and Xanadu dissolved, and then their blood removed, Desmodu looked outside.
It was starting to fade into Dusk outside.
And Dusk is when Malcanthetians begin their orgies.
And Xanadu and Margathera had just gotten home from several days.
It was almost like clockwork the same time of each day they showed up to the house.
And the Slaves answered the door, right on cue.
And they welcomed them into the house.
And then told them to....take a dip in the pool.
Margathera and Xanadu were dead. Their magical ties to the house completely dispelled.
They could not attack Margathera and Xanadu directly...
But the Malcanthetians were open game.
And Desmodu knew the spell to render themselves immune to acid.
And the spells that had would render them immune to Fire.
And a Magic Wand to allow them all to breathe underwater.
The Thayan Robes were not the only garments they had been soaking for months in Limerock. After all: The Malcanthetians had been naked in their home many, many times.
Funny how one tends to leave their clothes unattending while they are engaged in debauchery..."
"HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE...!!"
Margathera and Xanadu were dead. As were the Malcanthetians. And as Xanadu and Margathera had no children of their own...they weren't about to ruin their life of debauchery after all...
..by Thayan Law the House, and ergo it's slaves, would return to Thayan ownership.
One of the agreements that allowed the Red Wizard Enclave to exist in any city is the agreement that in the event a Red Wizard is slain, and there is no heir, their property and their slaves return to ownership of the Thayan Magocracy, who will come to claim their magic items, their gold, and their slaves.
However, Baldur's Gate was a city lead by the likes of Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun.
And Khelben had made a rule.
If a Thayan dies, and there is none to claim their slaves...
...the Slaves. Go. Free!!
But, only if...
...there is no evidence of a MURDER...
..and, only if...
There is no EVIDENCE OF FOUL PLAY.
Khelben was a powerful diviner. As were his agents of the Harpers.
Their investigative skills were the most Keen in all of Faerun.
As there is no evidence that any LOCAL Constabulary would have the skill to divine...they would call in the Harper Agents.
The Harper Agents would SURELY discover the vast plot and conspiracy of the slaves. They would piece it together. They would SURELY figure it out, over time. More-so, they were the only people with Jurisdiction to investigate the house. After all....it was THEIR city.
But also, more to the point, they would discover the Thayan TORTURE chambers. They would discover the Thayan BLOOD magic. They would discover the Thayan SUMMONING CHAMBERS.
And they would discover that the Inner Sanctum, buried beneath very city, had open access to their Sewers.
The Sewers which the Slaves all used, after the entire debauchle, to make their escape.
They had known the sewers well. They had used them to smuggle in supplies and smuggle out Malcanthetians so they would not be seen on the street late at night.
They had known their pathways for nigh a year, and had memorized them.
More to the point, because they were always kept in the dark...
..they could navigate them BLINDFOLDED. A skill that is VERY valuable to a Slave.
Margathera and Xanadu had operated in secret, right under the noses of the Waterdhavians for several years.
They had taken every precaution, every contingency, every preparation to hide the nefarious blood circles and orgies which were taking place in their Mansion.
They had bribed officials and guards with their great wealth to look the other way, and not to pay too much attention to the house.
They maintained a public image as introverts and "Quiet." The literal "Perfect Neighbors", so that none would even think to look in their house.
They kept the house so magically warded that no sane criminal would ever dare try and break in.
The only way that Desmodu was ever going to expose them and their evil plans....
...he had to give them a reason to even LOOK.
And so he navigated he and his "Brothers" and "Sisters" through the Sewer, they were Seven in total, and he lead them up through the manhole covers into a Neighboring building, several city blocks away.
Margathera made sure their house was in a part of town with no people. They didn't want Pesky Interlopers and snooping children.
Xanadu made sure that all of the businesses within two city blocks were all THAYAN owned and Maintained, so as not to raise suspicion of their activities, and to allow their agents to move in and out.
These two city blocks....
...were an Entire THAYAN ENCLAVE. HIDDEN. IN. PLAIN. SIGHT!!!
AND DESMODU HAD ACCESS TO ALL OF THEM!!
...AND THEY WERE ALL RIGGED TO BLOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
AND SO DESMODU, UPON THE ROOFTOPS, HIS BROTHERS AND SISTERS NEXT TO HIM, THEY ALL BEGAN TO DO THE LAST THING DESMODU HAD TAUGHT THEM TO DO.
THEY ALL BEGAN TO SING!!! LOUDER!! LOUDER!!!!!!LOUDER!!
AND LOUDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And the people began to emerge from their homes...
..and people stepped outside, because they were Curious...
"They were victorious. Their Thayan masters lie dead, buried underneat the rubble of their own home.
Desmodu looked, triumphantly, at his brothers and sisters....and then he let out a slow, simple nod.
Bernard, and all of the others..their forms began to change.
Because Desmodu was a follower of Hlal, the Shapeshifter Trickster God, and he had learned his ways well. And he was unwilling to risk the lives of his Brother and Sister slaves..
...Desmodu had already evacuated them well before Margathera and Xanadu had ever gotten home.
"Bernard", "Anneke", all of them....now stood before Desmodu as Clones of Desmodu himself.
He had used his Ring of Three Wishes to create them. Six of them.
And he had poured all of himself into them, all of the things he despised the most about himself.
Into the First he had poured his Lust, and his Depravity. For he had to rid himself of them so he could focus. To balance them, however, he also poured in his Chastity, and his Purity.
Into the Second he had poured in his Gluttony. But within it, to balance it, he had also poured into it his Temperance, his Self-Control. For though he sought always to eat...he also knew when enough was enough.
Into the Third he poured his Anger, and his Wrath. But into it, to balance it, he had also poured into him his Patience...for he would need every bit of it to keep them in check.
Into the Fourth he had poured his Heresy. His Defiance. But with it also his Diligence. For he would need to plan every single detail of his plan were he to succeed.
Into the Fifth he poured his Greed, and his Guile. For none are as wise or as ferverous as those who defend their own Hoard. To keep it in check, however, he poured into him also his Charity. For he was a follower of Hlal, and a man of Community. And Hlal was the only dragon who never kept a Horde...rather she SHARED it.
And into the last of them he poured his Envy: For he had always Envied Margathera and Xanadu's love for each other. Their large house. Their wealth and their power...and in his Spite Desmodu would take all of them away. But into this Aspect he also poured his Kindness, to keep it in check. This was hilarious, also, considering Desmodu always wanted to Kill somebody with Kindness...
Desmodu kept, for himself, the three Cardinal Sins.
Desmodu kept, within himself, his own Fraud. His power to deceive, manipulate, control... But to keep it in check, he also kept within him his own Honesty.
It is for this reason...Desmodu cannot LIE.
Desmodu can DECEIVE...but he cannot actually LIE.
And in himself he also kept his TREACHERY...but to balance it out he kept within himself his LOYALTY. It is for this reason that Desmodu can never betray an OATH. Or, more specific...
...Desmodu can never betray a CONTRACT. And he may never betray his WORD.
For because Desmodu has within him both the Virtues of Loyalty..and the Sin of Pride..
Desmodu's greatest Loyalty is to Himself.
But because of this: He cannot betray his Word. He cannot betray his BELIEFS.
Because he cannot BETRAY Himself.
And to Himself, he Shall always be True.
The last sin, of course, is the root of ALL Sin...
..the Sin of PRIDE.."
"HAHA! WE knew it!! We KNEW you were in the closet!"
"Guys! I'm trying to tell a story here!""
"Psh. Probably the story of what happened in that closet..."
"Bahahahahaha!!!"
"SHUT UP THE STORY IS GETTING GOOD!"
"Sorry...""Sorry"..."Sorry..."
**AHEM!***
"...Desmodu had kept within himself the Root of all Sin. The Sin of Pride. But it is for this reason...that Desmodu also kept within himself the Virtue of HUMILITY.
It is for this reason that Desmodu may SERVE as many people as he wishes...and he does. He serves them food. Constantly.
Desmodu, however, can never give a COMMAND to anyone.
However, Desmodu has within him the Sins of FRAUD.
Desmodu can STEAL from them.
Desmodu can PANDER to them.
Desmodu can FLATTER them.
Desmodu can be a SOOTHSAYER.
Desmodu cannot CONTROL anyone...
Because Desmodu can never remove someone of their FREE WILL.
He can, however DECEIVE them into using that Choice to serve him...willingly.
Because Desmodu can EDUCATE THEM!!!!!!!!
And there is no TRUE greater Control over someone...than to be the one who TEACHES them.
And there is no greater self-gratification than to gain Power.
And KNOWLEDGE IS POWER!!!
Desmodu had created them, all of them, aspects of himself...pieces of his own fragmented mind poured into these bodies to aid him.
It was with his Third Wish that Desmodu turned to them...and he began to speak.
But in his Third Wish...he was too excited.
He had just destroyed his enemies.
He had covered his tracks.
He had decimated the entire City Block, which was the entire Thayan Enclave in disguise.
It was with his Third Wish that he wished, far too simply...
"I wish to be made WHOLE again."
"BAHAHAHAHAHA"
"BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR!!!"
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
Each of his clones looked at one another. They knew that they had to come together.
The question was...how?
Desmodu had poured pieces of himself into them. Pieces of his own personality. Individual personalities from the "Collective" of his own broken, shattered psyche.
Each of them were possessed of many minds, many skills, many thoughts...
But, more to the point...
...each of them believed that THEY were the "Original" Desmodu. Much like what would happen to the Zhentarim Mage known as the Manshoon some 10 years from now.
They each turned to each other, gazing upon each other.
Only ONE of them could remain...
...the only question was which.
Naturally, it was Wrath who struck first. He had palmed a kitchen knife from the house, because he had planned for this very eventuality. He drew the Knife from under his shirt, and he immediately lunged for the neck of the Aspect that would be "Lust."
But because they all KNEW each other. Because they all WERE each other, they had also learned how to ANTICIPATE each other.
As "Wrath" lunged towards the neck of Lust, it was Greed to intervened. For Greed and Lust are copacetic to each other, Greed reached out and grabbed the wrist of Wrath and then, using his grappling techniques, flipped Wrath over his head and onto his side.
As this was happening Gluttony charged Lust as well, but it was Heresy who stepped between the two of them. Heresy stuck out his foot, and Gluttony tripped over him, landing onto his face with a CRASH. Heresy then mounted Gluttony, and with the ferocity of an angered Silverback Gorilla began to viciously pound his face with his powerful fists.
The original Desmodu, the Desmodu who was still comprised of Pride, merely looked on with a sly grin upon his face. Because this Desmodu knew something the others did not. They were all aspects of him. They COULD NOT hurt him, for anything that happened to the "Original" also happened to them. Ergo, Desmodu was perfectly content to sit back, relax, and watch the chaos happen.
Wrath and Greed were struggling on the ground, each of them fighting for the Knife that Wrath had concealed under his clothes.
Lust, Heresy, and Gluttony were all in the throws of a three-way fight. Lust grabbed Heresy by the neck and flipped him over his shoulders, face-first onto the floor.
"Certainly not our first Three-way, Gentlemen. But fortunately, this is MY area of expertise..." said Lust as he mounted Heresy, beginning to choke him with his powerful hands."And we all know how much we love to choke a bitch!"
Wrath and Greed continued to struggle over the knife before Wrath finally overpowered Greed, throwing him off and then grabbing the Knife. With a single, powerful thrust Wrath plunged the knife into Greed's black heart, and Greed looked down to the knife sticking from his chest, his breath shuddering as he spat blood from his mouth.
"No....no...it...it was...it was....supposed...to....all...be...MINE!!!!"Greed sputtered as he fell upon his back, and closed his eyes. Wrath merely laughed.
But when Greed "died"...something unexpected happened. He began to DISSOLVE, almost as if dissolving into smoke.
As the smoke gathered and coalesced, the smoke seemed to travel and go INSIDE of Wrath, who inhaled it just as if it were a puff of the foul devilweed that Desmodu had come to love.
As the parts that had made "Greed" went into the mouth and nose of Wrath, Wrath's eyes began to glow red with raw power.
The other Desmodu's looked upon "Wrath" with a terror they had never before known.
Wrath...had literally ABSORBED Greed into him.
And Wrath had become even more POWERFUL because of it. The others looked on with Terror as Wrath turned to them with a wicked smile.
"Mmmmmm....Delicious...I can see why you enjoy this so much.." he said as he looked at the Desmodu which contained his Gluttony.
Gluttony merely sneered. And then, while the rest were distracted, Gluttony turned to Heresy and sank his teeth into his neck, almost as if Gluttony was a Vampire.
Heresy screamed in agony as Gluttony's teeth tore into his jugular, and he fell over, blood spurting from the open wound in his neck upon the ground.
"No...No...I..I am...the Heretic..it is MY time to...." he barely had time to sputter before he finally choked upon his own blood.
And as he died, just as with Greed, Heresy dissolved into smoke. The smoke coalesced, and flew into the nostils and the mouth of Gluttony, who devoured him.
"Delicious..." said Gluttony."No wonder the ladies love us, Lust. We taste so delicious..." said the Aspect, as it stared down Wrath and Lust.
Heresy was dead. As was Greed. Gluttony, Lust, Wrath, and Envy were all that remained. And, of course, the "Original" Desmodu himself, "Pride."
But the others could not attack Pride. For they had all come from him. Any attack upon the original Desmodu would be an assault upon each of them as well.
However, as Greed and Heresy both fell....the original Desmodu screamed in Pain. Agony. Because they were all LINKED to him.
He felt their pain. He felt their agony. Just as Margathera and Xanadu shared each other's. It was, after all, the magic of their Wedding Rings that gave Desmodu the inspiration for what he had done.
As Desmodu screamed in agony, rolling around upon the floor in sheer pain, the other Aspects continued their assault upon each other.
Wrath, who still had the kitchen knife, charged the Aspect known as Envy. But Envy was a clever one. And, of course, because they all KNEW each other, Envy had anticipated that Wrath would charge in like the fool he was. As Wrath ran forth Envy reached into his pocket and threw down one of Desmodu's favorite toys he had stolen from the Bard's college.
He threw down a vial full of grease.
As Wrath was so angry, so compulsive, he ran right into it....and he slipped.
Envy merely stepped out of the way as Wrath flew off of the roof of the building, sliding right off the ledge and crashing into the city street below.
The fall was a long one, and Wrath's brains splattered onto the pavement. And as he did, just like the others, he dissolved into Smoke. The smoke travelled up the side of the building...and it was inhaled by Envy.
"And now...what was YOURS is now MINE. Because I deserve it. NOT YOU!" he screamed, triumphantly, as he laughed maniacally.
And as Wrath's head hit the pavement the original Desmodu held his own head in agony.
After all....he felt it too.
Wrath was dead. Only Gluttony, Envy, Lust, and Pride remained.
Lust knew that he was no match for Gluttony and Envy, who were both "powered up" by the Aspects they had each devoured. And so Lust tried to run. To no avail.
Gluttony and Envy, who had both been empowered by the other Aspects they devoured, BOTH grabbed onto Lust. Their eyes both filled with Rage.
Gluttony screamed"NO!!! THIS ONE IS MINE TO DEVOUR!"
To which Envy replied"NO!!! ONLY I DESERVE IT!! YOU HAVE TOO MUCH ALREADY, THIS ONE IS MINE!"
As they continued to argue, Lust screamed in agony."HAHA!! I always knew I'd go out being double-teamed on each end!! BAHAHA..."
Lust's screams were quickly silenced as Lust was, quite literally, torn in half by both Gluttony and Envy.
And as he was, Desmodu screamed even harder. For he had just felt the pain of Wrath's head being busted wide open upon the sidewalk. And now, he felt the pain of literally being ripped apart.
As Lust was torn asunder he once again dissolved into smoke just as the other aspects had.
But because Lust was killed by both Gluttony and Envy, the smoke dissolved and was inhaled by both of them, evenly.
Lust had been devoured by them both. And thus, they had BOTH gained his power.
Only Gluttony, Envy, and the original Desmodu now remained.
As Desmodu lie upon the ground, writhing in agony, Gluttony and Envy faced each other.
"I will consume you..." said Gluttony. "I will devour EVERYTHING...."
Envy stood, clenching his fists, staring at Gluttony. His eyes were literally glowing Green.
"You don't deserve it!!! You have so much, you consume so much, but it's NEVER GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!!!
Envy, who had devoured Wrath, was now possessed of all of Wrath's Anger. But he was, consequently, also possessed of all of his Strength.
Gluttony, who had devoured Heresy, was ever Defiant however. He knew that Envy was much more powerful. But because he was Gluttonous, and because he was a Heretic, he would defy him until the end. After all, he also held within himself a piece of Lust. Specifically the Lust for Power...
...and he did. For all of about the three seconds before Envy, who was empowered by Wrath, charged forth and promptly grabbed Gluttony by the throat, lifting him off of the ground.
Gluttony struggled. He was Defiant. He was Gluttonous. He had absorbed other aspects, and thus he was MAN enough...
But he simply was not MEAN enough.
Envy, empowered by the strength of Wrath, and also powered by his Greed, had an equal Lust for power within him.
And he held Gluttony off the ground, within his hand, choking the life from him. And as valiantly as Gluttony struggled, as much as his Defiance demanded that he hang on, as much as his Heresy DEMANDED that he Fight until the bitter end, even against impossible odds...
He finally succumbed to death, though he struggled as much as he could, he simply could not match the raw Strength of the Aspect of Envy, Wrath, and Greed.
SNAP!! Went the aspect's neck, and then he crumbled to the floor.
As Gluttony was being choked however, so too was Desmodu. He grasped his throat, gasping for air, feeling the very life being choked out of him.
And the aspect of Gluttony dissolved into smoke, as the others had before, and was inhaled by the aspect of Envy, who consumed him.
Desmodu lie upon the ground, in agony.
He had felt all of their deaths. He had felt all of their pain. He had felt all of their anger, all of their suffering. He had felt all of their emotions. He had felt EVERYTHING.
And as Demodu lie upon the ground, he slowly came to his knees, looking up at the massive Behemoth that stood before him.
It was then that Desmodu remembered his childhood.
He remembered the day he was taken from Chult by the Baneite High Priest of the Zhentarim.
He remembered the day his father was killed.
He remembered the day that he was put into chains, and the day that he was taken from his home.
He remembered the day his life changed forever.
And, once again, he was that scared little boy. That terrified, scared child, staring up at the massive Tyrant.
But this time, it was not a Baneite staring back at him.
It was a twisted reflection of Desmodu himself.
He had seen what he had become. A Monster.
A being possessed of such Lust. Such Wrath. Such Envy. Such Gluttony. Such Greed.
He saw, standing before him, his Mirror Image.
Desmodu had forever been a follower of Hlal, the Draconic God of Trickery, Community, Comedy, and Knowledge.
More to the point...Desmodu had been her Champion.
Desmodu...had been her Paladin of Freedom.
And now this Paladin of Freedom saw before him his own twisted reflection. A perversion of himself.
The Paladin of Freedom....now stood before the ultimate Tyrant.
And the Tyrant glowered down at him. The weak, pathetic creature that stood before him. And he scoffed.
"My my my....the most Prideful has been brought LOW." said his Mirror as it loomed over him like one of the Tyrannosaurus from his homeland of Chult would loom over a wounded Triceratops, preparing to gorge himself with a meal.
"We are so Hungry...."it said to him, as he stuck out his long tongue and began to lick his lips voraciously.
"Yes...yes....it shall all be MINE...." said another voice from within the Tyrant as it circled Desmodu, who was still on his knees, reeling from the agonizing pain of feeling all of their deaths.
"You do not deserve this life!! I do!! It should be me!!! IT SHOULD BE MY BODY, NOT YOURS! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO LIVE!!" screamed Envy, as he leaped forward to Desmodu with the Kitchen knife.
And as the Knife came eerily close to Desmodu's throat...so close, in fact, it knicked him just below the jaw...Envy screamed. And then Envy recoiled.
Envy felt his own neck....and as he pulled his hand down a tiny rivulet of blood stood upon his fingertips.
Envy then realized the horrible truth. He could not kill Desmodu. Because Envy was an Aspect of him.
If Desmodu died...so did he.
Desmodu slowly got to his feet, picking himself up, as he gazed onto his Mirror. His Duplicate. And Desmodu merely SMILED.
Desmodu smirked, as he dusted himself off. Though he was obviously in pain...Desmodu held his head up high, a visage of pure Satisfaction upon his face.
Envy looked at Desmodu, shuddering, as Desmodu proudly stood, glaring down at him.
"But...but...you...you were pain...you...you were dying..."Envy shuddered..
"It turns out, my oldest friend...I know how to HANDLE PAIN!!!!"
Envy dropped the knife, and fell to his knees.
"You...you tricked us...you tricked ALL of us......."
"As one does...when they are possessed of FRAUD."
"You...you betrayed ALL of us...."
"As one does...when one is possessed of TREACHERY."
"You...you USED us...you BETRAYED us...WHY!? WHY!?! WHY!?!?!"
Desmodu merely stepped forward, and picked up the Kitchen Knife, looming over Envy as he shuddered in naught but pure FEAR.
"Because PRIDE is the root of ALL SIN!!! AND NONE OF YOU ARE GREATER THAN ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Desmodu now stood above Envy, who glared back at him, his eyes glowing green. Streams of tears ran down Envy's face. For Envy was Envious of Desmodu. Envious of the life Desmodu was going to get to live that he was not. Envious of the guile that Desmodu had used to trick him. For in the short time that he himself had a body, he had grown to love it.
He had grown to love the feel of the carpet beneath his feet. The sweat upon his brow.
He grew to love the scent of the air, and the feeling as it entered his lungs.
Envy was envious of Desmodu for everything.
But most of all, Envy was envious...of the fact that it would be Desmodu, of all of them..
...who would get to LIVE.
He looked up at Desmodu, pleading through his sad eyes. For those who are Envious of others are always the most Sad. Sad that they themselves do not have what others have. Sad that they themselves cannot experience what others get to experience.
And in his Envy...he fell into Despair. He grabbed the sides of his head as he fell upon his knees, shaking like a leaf within a hurricane.
Desmodu stood before Envy.
This time, the roles were reversed.
Now, it was HIM who was standing before a scared little boy, his eyes full of sadness, pleading for his life.
Pleading him not to take it, through silent cries.
Desmodu was now the Tyrant, standing before himself.
And Desmodu saw within himself all of the things that he despised the most about himself.
He saw within this reflection his Rage. He saw within this reflection his Gluttony and his Greed. He saw within this twisted reflection his Defiance, and his endless ambition.
Desmodu did not WANT to kill this poor, poor boy. This poor boy he had used to fulfill his plans.
But Desmodu knew he had to.
He was Cronos, standing before Zeus. He knew that, of all beings in the world, this is the one who knew him well. Because he WAS him.
He knew that this boy knew how he thought. He knew that this boy knew how he planned. He knew this boy...knew how to defeat him.
And in his Pride....Desmodu could not allow that to happen.
And so in his Treachery...Desmodu betrayed the one person he swore he never would.
Desmodu betrayed Hlal....
...by striking himself down.
Desmodu killed himself. Or, rather, Desmodu killed all that he WAS.
He saw the broken boy before him, and was repulsed by him.
He saw the weak, simpering, crying child that lay beneath his feet, the mewing weakling that stood before him. So possessed of it's own Sins and it's own Self-loathing that Desmodu found it despicable.
For because of Desmodu's Pride...Desmodu could never admit that he was looking at HIMSELF.
And there are none like the Prideful who hate themselves...because they are not yet what they wish they were.
And so Desmodu plunged the knife into Envy's black heart with the utmost of Spite. And he began to stab him. Again. Again. AGAIN.
He cried tears of rage. Tears of anguish. Tears of Pain. He was still linked to him. He could feel every jolt of pain. He could feel every anguish.
He could feel his sadness. He could feel his pain. He could feel his despair. He felt EVERYTHING as he continued to stab his reflection again. Again. AGAIN!!
And as the boy died Desmodu, full of sadness and despair, held the boy in his arms. He stared down at himself.
And though he Hated himself...he was also full of Pride. And thus he loved himself. More than anything.
And he had just killed himself. The man he loved the most.
He felt two-fold the despair both of Killing him..
..and the pain of both betraying and killing Himself.
Desmodu, in a sense....had committed suicide.
And Desmodu had always been taught what happens to someone who commits suicide.
Suicides...go to Hell.
He slumped over. He held his own broken body in his arms...and then it began to dissolve, into Smoke.
But as the smoke began to fill Desmodu's lungs, he did not want it. For the first time in his life, Desmodu was refusing to smoke something.
He knew that if "Envy" entered into him what would happen. His pain would magnify again and again.
His own self-hatred would send him into Eternal despair.
His own self-hatred would trap him within a prison of his own mind forever.
Desmodu knew that if he inhaled....he would live, forever, in a sense of literal HELL within his own mind.
He knew that all of his personalities would continue to fight each other.
He knew that they would all HATE each other.
He would be imprisoned, again, within a prison of his own self-hatred.
A prison of his own despair.
A Prison that he would FEEL that he deserved...
Desmodu knew that when he breathed himself in...that he would truly be in Hell.
He fought. He coughed. He spat and cursed, he tried to spit himself out. He tried to keep it from his eyes and his ears.
And so Desmodu ran inside the building upon which he stood. He coughed and spat as he fell down the stairs. He crawled away from the smoke which was forcing itself into his lungs and into his eyes.
"NO!! No, please!! Don't do this to me!! Please, no!! I just wanted to be Free! NO!! NO Please, don't do this to me!! I just..I just wanted....to be....free..."
It was then that Desmodu collapsed. He lied there, upon the cold floor, feeling as though he had violated himself.
He felt the cold. He felt the loneliness. He felt the pain, and the agony.
He felt the sense of self-hatred, and he felt the sense of worthlessness.
And yet, somehow...he felt it was all his fault.
Because it was.
And as he lied there, a broken man, he looked at the Kitchen Knife that lay upon the floor.
But he also knew that suicides truly do go to Hell...
He was in Hell while Living.
And he would be in Hell if he died.
And in his loneliness. His despair.
His self-hatred, his Agony....
...Desmodu began to SCREAM!!!!
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
He lay on the floor for three days in his despair, with no company save for his own thoughts and his own memories.
He lied there, shuddering.
He did not move to eat.
He did not sleep.
He did not even move to relieve himself.
He lied there, broken, beaten, within a pile of his own refuse.
And nearly drowned himself upon his own tears.
He did not wish to eat, despite how much Gluttony was begging him to.
He did not seek the comfort of the girls at the Festhall, no matter how much Lust urged him on.
He wanted only to scream, smash the walls, but he was too afraid that if he did that Wrath would take over, and he feared what Wrath might do.
He tried to pray to Hlal...but he knew that in his Treachery he had betrayed Her.
And even as he tried to pray to Hlal..it was his Heresy that made him stop.
For in his Pride, and his Heresy....Desmodu had abandoned his Goddess.
After all, he felt, She had abandoned Him.
He was here, in this place, alone. Cold. Knowing full well that the Goddess to whom he had prayed every night would no longer hear him. Or if she could...she acted as though she did not care.
For Hlal was capricious as such. And Desmodu knew his. Desmodu knew that if he betrayed Her that she would leave him.
And so because Desmodu could not give into his vices. Because Desmodu could not pray to his Goddess...Desmodu was truly alone. With nothing but his own despair.
And so Desmodu did what anybody in his situation would.
Desmodu went completely, irrevocably, and wholly insane.
At first he could do nothing but sit and listen as the personalities within himself began to argue with each other.
And then he started to SEE them.
Because Desmodu was an Illusionist. And a Shapeshifter. He had learned these tricks from the legendary Bard's College of Waterdeep, after all. Master theatre performers. They had taught him their ways. And he had learned them well.
And all of these images were projections from his own subconscious.
Desmodu was, involuntarily, creating Projected Images of himself....and they all began to torture him. Both physically, and mentally.
For even though they were only mental projections, as Jarlaxle can tell you, "An Illusion can hurt you if you BELIEVE it can."
And he believed it. Because the projections of himself were reinforced by his own self-hatred.
He could feel them. He could smell them. They were not real...
...but they were "Real enough" to hurt him.
Because he had created, for himself, manifestations of his own literal Inner Devils. And they had nothing better to do than to Torture Him.
They began to taunt him. They began to insult him. Chide him. Remind him of his own worthlessness. They raked his flesh with their claws, and bit him.
Every indignity that their twisted minds could devise, they inflicted upon him in that room. That cold, lonely, dark place where he was alone and afraid.
He was taunted by these projections for what seemed like an Eternity.
Because, in one's mind, Time is meaningless. Time is, after all, a construct of the CONSCIOUS mind.
And Desmodu's conscious mind was DESTROYED. His sense of Time, his sense of space, his sense of reality were completely ruined.
And in his despair, he cried out to ANYBODY who would listen.
He wanted the pain to stop.
He wanted his torment to end.
It was then that he heard an actual VOICE within his mind. Another voice, this one not his own. A different voice. And it laughed, evilly, as it repeated the famous phrase:
"Be Careful what you wish for....."
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
The shadows in the room began to move, seeming as if they all shifted into a single corner in the room.
Desmodu gazed upon them as they began to reshape, and reform, until finally what looked like a tall Devil stood before him.
He stood nearly 13 foot tall, with red skin and a pair of ashen black horns.
He was draped in bejeweled robes unlike anything Desmodu had ever seen before, adorned with numerous rubies. Desmodu felt that, were he to have a single handful of the rubies adorning this creature's garments that he would never go hungry again.
The Fiend's eyes glowed with the deepest Red, glaring down at the frightened man. The Baatezu stood before him, proud, as he walked upon what looked like a magical Cane.
A Cane...made of what appeared to be a single, solid, Ruby of the purest make that Desmodu had ever seen.
The Devil paced back and forth for a moment, looking down at the broken Desmodu, who only whimpered as he had before.
Desmodu's Aspects were still present, they were still torturing him. But then the Aspects all turned to this Devil that dared to intrude upon their "Playtime"...and they all rushed him!!
"Back, Devil! This one is ours to play with!"
"Who dares to disturb our MEAL!?"
"Who dares to disturb our fun!?"
"Who Dares to Disturb....."
"BEGONE!!!!!!!" yelled the creature, as he raised his magical Rod in the direction of the Aspects. A single, solitary blast of Lightning shot forth from the head of the Rod, a terrible arcane force unlike Desmodu had ever seen, which struck Wrath upon his chest. As it did, the lightning seemed to "Leap" from Aspect to Aspect, disintegrating every single one of them with a single blast of destruction.
Desmodu slowly rose to his knees, kneeling before the gigantic Devil that stood before him. As he attempted to look up at him, however, he was so weak from three days of no food or no sleep that he could not raise his head up high to gaze upon him.
"You poor boy..." said the Devil. The Devil reached his hands down to grasp Desmodu's head, and Desmodu was too weak to even resist. As the gigantic claw grasped the top of Desmodu's head, Desmodu fully expected him to crush his skull, or break his neck.
And Desmodu would have welcomed it. For though it had only been a mere 3 days, to Desmodu they had seemed like a lifetime of torment.
But the Devil did not crush his skull, nor wring his neck. The Devil did something that had not been done to Desmodu in many, many years.
Something that had not been done ever since he had last seen his mother, who died when Desmodu was only seven years old.
The Devil...merely embraced him. He placed his hand upon the boy's shoulder, and Desmodu could almost feel a Warmth coming from him.
The Devil then slammed his Ruby Cane upon the ground, and then the Devil and Desmodu, both, seemed to become Enveloped in what could only be described as a magical Cocoon of Hellfire.
A Peace that washed over Desmodu as if it were a waterfall, washing away his pain, easing his suffering.
For just a moment, Desmodu felt at PEACE.
And as Desmodu looked down upon himself he saw that he was being CLEANSED. The refuse from where he had soiled himself was gone.
The bite marks, and the scratches, and all of the injuries that his Aspects had inflicted upon him were all gone.
Desmodu was healed. And more to the point...Desmodu was revitalized. All of his fatigue was gone. His wounds were all fully healed.
In only a few seconds, the magical Cocoon dissipated and Desmodu was completely restored. And Desmodu felt as if he was a brand new man.
"Rise, Desmodu. You have wallowed in your own self-pity for long enough."
"And I have a Bargain for you, my Child...an Offer that you would be an imbecile to refuse...."
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
Desmodu rose to his feet. As he gazed about him, trying to collect his senses, Desmodu's eyes glowed an Electric Blue. He gazed down upon his hands and his feet, looking himself over.
Every wound he had ever suffered was regenerated, again, just as Margathera and Xanadu had regenerated him countless times in their magical pool.
As he looked up at the Devil which glared down at him, the Devil's eyes glowed a pale Red.
As the light from the Devil's glowing red eyes met the electric blue coming from Desmodu's, it formed an aura of purple as the light from the two of them interwove itself together.
Purple was always Desmodu's favorite color, because it was the color of Royalty. And because of his size, and his countenance, and the way he carried himself Desmodu was often called upon to play the role of Kings and Villains whenever he had performed his stage plays. His natural ability to project his voice meant that he was loud, and he was full of energy. The natural person to play the Villain in any performance.
The Devil smiled a fanged smile as he looked down at Desmodu. But as Desmodu looked up at the Devil he was not scared. In fact, for the first time in the longest time, Desmodu felt no fear at all. As if the Devil himself was projecting an aura of calm. An aura of serenity and sanctuary.
Desmodu would not have attacked the Devil out of Fear. But more to the point, this Aura seemed to pacify Desmodu to the point that he did not wish to. He merely felt it within his best interest to be calm.
And he felt that it would be in his best interest to do something that Desmodu was not very good at.
He felt the urge, for the first time, to do nothing but to SHUT UP.
And he felt the sensation, for the first time in a long time, to do nothing but LISTEN.
"Now then. Isn't that much better, my Child?"
Desmodu could do nothing but nod. Desmodu felt, for the first time in his life, that the person that stood before him was a Friend. A Confidant. A Guide. A Teacher. Desmodu felt all of these things coming off of this being that held him within his arms, staring down at him with a wicked smile. The fiend released Desmodu, who immediately fell to his knees, unable to bring himself to stand before a being of such truly awesome reverence.
"You are still hungry, I can tell. The power of my Rod can rejuvenate my wounds, and it can ease my tired body...but as I am an Outsider, and thus I do not EAT...it is not designed to satiate my hunger. Tell me, son, would you like some food?"
Desmodu merely nodded, fervently. He was starving. And though his body was revitalized he was, in fact, famished.
The Devil that stood before him let out a loud, boisterous laugh.
"The First Bargain that I am going to make with you is a simple one. The Bargain is thus: "You are going to eat. You are going to eat until your belly is full. And while you are eating...you are going to say NOTHING. And while you eat...you are simply going to LISTEN to everything I have to say. Is that acceptable to you, Desmodu?"
Desmodu replied with a simple, slow nod. The Devil then extended his hand to Desmodu, offering a Handshake. Desmodu reached up, and he embraced the Devil's clawed hand.
"The First rule when making a Deal with a Devil....don't."
Desmodu and the Devil both chuckled, almost in unison. The Devil extended his hand, and he began to utter the incantations for a spell. Desmodu recognized the verbal and somatic components for the spell, a spell that Bards were capable of casting. It was a Sixth-Circle spell known as "Heroes Feast."
Desmodu knew the spell well. It was a spell that the Bards at the college would cast before a big performance.
The reason for this is because the spell not only removed all Diseases and Nausea...which always helped before standing before a crowd of people for a performance, but also because the spell rendered those who imbibed it free of all FEAR for a period of 12 hours.
It turns out that Stage Fright is a common thing among even the most veteran of performers, and this spell was designed to quell it for the duration of an entire performance.
The spell took a full Ten Minutes to cast.
And during it's casting, Desmodu was treated to the view of a LIFETIME!
As the Devil began to chant a full, long wooden table sprang into existence in a flash of Hellfire!! And as the Devil continued to chant and cast the spell the table was soon accompanied by 8 chairs, Three upon each Side, and a Chair at each Head of the table, one of which the Devil motioned for Desmodu to sit in. He complied.
Additional flashes of Hellfire spilled through the room as six other devils appeared from the Ether, all of them rushing suddenly to fill the table with numerous, elaborate dishes!
Smells filled the room of flavors and scents from the World over!!
A Devil, dressed in Rokugani silk robes, set the table with the freshest Rokugani Sushi, one of Desmodu's favorites. As he began to masterfully cut the Sushi with the dexterity of a master Chef another Devil to his side began to fill a cup full of Rokugani Sake, Desmodu's favorite drink. The Devil-assistant offered the Sake to Desmodu, who smiled, thanked him with a nod, and drank the delicious nectar of the East with a satisfied smile. The Devil continued to chant the components of the spell, with a smile upon his face as he watched Desmodu drink.
"The Second rule, of course, is never make a deal on an empty Stomach. Hunger clouds the mind. Hunger weakens the wits, and the senses. And the offer I am going to make you will require every ounce of your wit, every ounce of your cunning, and every drop of your attention. And your mind is restless, Desmodu. Just like mine. We are the same, you and I. Our minds are always plotting, always scheming, always preparing for every contingency. Every eventuality. So eat, boy, and ENJOY YOURSELF!!"
Desmodu nodded and smiled as he greedily drank down the Sake. As he did yet another Devil, an Imp, flew to his side with an entire tray full of delectable-looking pastries. Doughnuts. Another of Desmodu's favorites. After all, Desmodu studied culinary cuisine at the Bard's College. He had learned how to cook them, as Margathera had taken a liking to them. Xanadu couldn't eat them due to his diabetes, of course, and Margathera taunted him by eating them in front of him all the time. Of course, this merely made Xanadu laugh, as he watched his loving wife enjoy herself.
Desmodu stuffed the doughnuts down his face with such ferocity it was unlike anything he'd ever seen. As he did the Devil began to laugh, clearly enjoying the spectacle as he continued to cast his spell.
After Desmodu put down no less than six of the glorious pastries another Devil Chef brought forth to the table an entire bowl full of mashed potatoes and gravy. Desmodu grabbed the gravy and began to delicately pour it over the potatoes. He looked to the Devil with a smile, as he raised his glass in thanks. He begin to slowly dig into the potatoes, a satisfied smile overcoming his visage. The Devil then looked at him and laughed merrily.
"Oh come now, boy, do I seem the type of person with which you have to be CORDIAL! EAT!!! DIG IN! Bahaha!"
And he did. Desmodu simply overturned the entire container of gravy onto the mashed potatoes and dug into them greedily, shoveling them down his face!
As he ate, the Devil attendants that were there made sure his drink was never empty. And, indeed, made sure that His Cup Runneth Over. For three days of Thirst had plagued the boy, who drank deeply of the finest Sake and the finest Wine that he had ever imbibed.
As he finished the mashed potatoes one of the attendants took away the empty plate, and just as soon as the plate of potatoes were removed yet another Devil Chef walked over and placed before him an entire barbecued PIG! It was glazed with the finest sauce, and rings of Pinepples had been cut and put over it's eyes. A giant apple was stuffed into his mouth, almost like a ball gag, and the steam that rose from it filled Desmodu's nose with the scent.
He did not even hesitate as he literally tore an entire leg off of the beast, and began to eat the pork straight off of the bone!! The look on Desmodu's face was nearly orgasmic as the juices from it dribbled down his throat and onto his chin.
As he dug into the whole pig the Rokugani-dressed Sushi Chef finally approached Desmodu, offering him an entire platter of freshly-rolled Sushi. Desmodu thanked him, with a nod and a raise of his glass, and grabbed the rolls of sushi, stuffing them into his famished face.
"Hey! This isn't fair!" Desmodu heard the familiar call of Gluttony.
"Yeah!! Where's ours!?" cried the familiar cry of Envy.
"Where's MINE!?!?" shouted the familiar cry of Greed.
"You better share with us, Desmodu, or so help me I'm gonna..."cried the cry of Wrath.
Desmodu looked over at the Devil, who was still casting the Heroes' Feast, as if he didn't know what to do.
The Devil merely smiled a fanged smile.
"Well, Desmodu, if they are hungry too....there's more than enough for Everybody...I guess you'll just have to let them out, won't you?"
Desmodu opened his mouth to speak, but just as he was about to he found that he could not. He then remembered that he had agreed not to say a word...and thus he remained silent.
As he ate, one of the Imps flew up to him holding a very odd looking object.
It was a Kiseru. A traditional Rokugani smoking pipe. Used for smoking Devilweed, Opium, and various other chemicals.
The tiny Imp landed at Desmodu's feet and bowed, offering the pipe to him almost as if it were an object of reverence. Desmodu bowed his head to thank him, and he took the pipe in his hand.
"Inhale. Breathe it in, and hold it. As you do, concentrate upon your own Sins. As you do, feel them EMERGE...and EXHALE them from you!!"
Desmodu nodded, and he inhaled deeply upon the pipe. He drew the smoke deep into his lungs, and the strength of the Devilweed nearly overwhelmed him.
It was not uncommon for the Bards to smoke Devilweed to calm their nerves before a big performance. But the strength of this weed was unlike anything Demodu ever had. He felt the warmth permeate his entire body. He felt his spirits uplifted, his mind at ease.
And as he exhaled the foul smoke, he exhaled a cloud of Green. The Green smoke coalesced, and then travelled to the Chair to his left, forming into another Desmodu. This one's eyes glowed with Lime Green. He recognized this Aspect of himself as ENVY.
Envy grabbed one of the empty cups upon the table, and poured for himself some Sake. As he drank, he turned to Desmodu and raised his glass to him, bowing his head in thanks to him. Desmodu returned the nod.
Desmodu inhaled again from the pipe, this time focusing upon his own "Wrath." As he exhaled yet again, this time the smoke took on the color Red, before once again reshaping and reforming itself into another Desmodu, this one with eyes of glowing red, which sat next to Envy.
"Wrath" poured wine into his glass, and then he raised it to Desmodu, once again bowing his head in thanks to him before he began to drink.
Desmodu inhaled and Exhaled again and again.
And then he Exhaled the remaining Aspects of himself: "Greed""Lust", "Heresy".
"Gluttony" he released the last, for the meal had begun to fill him, as he found it to be the hardest of his Sins upon which he could focus.
As the Devil finished casting the spell the remainder of the food appeared upon the table. A Feast unlike anything Desmodu had ever seen in his life. Bigger, more luscious, than anything he had ever experienced in his life.
As he looked upon his Aspects, each of them seemed to be having the time of their life. Gluttony in particular was digging in to his black little heart's content, licking the plates clean and attempting to drain the wine bottles dry. But as he drank, they only refilled. For in this feast, their cups were never empty for long.
They would be unable to finish such a massive feast.
But, for the love of Gods, they would certainly give it their ALL!!!
When the spell finally expired, one hour later, the chairs and the food all vanished.
Their satisfaction did not.
As they were feasting, however, something else was happening in the background.
Seven Devils had each been setting up Seven Beds.
As the Tables and the Chairs vanished with the food, the Beds however did not.
The Devil pointed to each of the Aspects, in turn, and then pointed to each of the beds. Each of them had different colored sheets..corresponding to the color of their eyes. Custom-fitted for each of their personal preferences.
"And now...you are all going to SLEEP. And, more specifically:
...you are all going to DREAM. For Dreams are the oldest means by which Devil-Kind has spoken with Mortals. And the things that I will need to show you, I cannot show you here.
Now then, children...
...off to bed with you."
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
The first to fall asleep was Wrath. And as Wrath twisted and turned, for Wrath was always Restless, he was also the one who had spent the most energy during the Aspect's time of torturing Desmodu.
For Wrath was always Angry. Always so energetic, and restless. Wrath never took the time to think, never took the time to plan. Because Wrath was a man of action, and of few words.
As Wrath awakened he found himself falling, as one does often during a Dream.
He fell...and he fell...and he fell...for what seemed like an Eternity.
He was falling. And he was on Fire.
But, because of the Heroes' Feast that he had just eaten moments ago...
...he was not AFRAID.
As he fell, engulfed in Fire, he looked down at the ground that was quickly rushing up to meet him. He saw, before him, an endless field of Fire and Brimstone.
As he looked around him he saw other Fireballs falling from the sky. And as he gazed into them he could see within these balls of fire other people, just like him, who were screaming in sheer fear and agony as they hurdled through the black, starless, smoke-filled sky.
With a resounding CRASH!!! he hit the ground with great intensity, the flaming nimbus around him exploding into a Fireball as he landed, bouncing like a rubber ball as he hit the hard surface of the ground.
But he felt no pain. He felt no impact. The same, however, could not be said of the others who were falling around him.
As they hit the ground, just like a fireball bead, they exploded in a flash of Fire, which burned the flesh of those all around them. They all screamed in Agony...and yet, somehow, they were not incinerated.
Wrath slowly picked himself up, looking around him at the nightmare in his wake.
"What is this....?" he questioned. "Where am I? What is this place..?"
"Welcome, Wrath." said a familiar voice from behind.
Wrath turned around only to be face-to-face with the same Devil that had prepared for him that lovely meal only an hour beforehand.
"Welcome to Avernus, my friend."
"Avernus!?!? The First of the Nine Hells of Baator!?"
"The Very Same, my Child."
"I am Damned, then?"
"Do not be so Melodramatic, my child. This is merely a Dream. A Projection. An Image. As am I. As is all around here. Images created within your mind in order to tell a story. And I am the Narrator, so to speak."
"I see...so you are to be my guide through Hell then?"
The Devil merely laughed.
"No...I will be..."handing you off" so to speak. I would like to introduce you to a being whom has served me well for a very, very long time.
He is the current Ruler of this Realm. An Archduke, a Pit Fiend, and one of my finest generals. "
"Yes. You speak of the Pit Fiend General known as "Bel", do you not?"
As soon as the words were spoken, a Pit Fiend flew down from the sky, enveloped in a Nimbus of Fire. The Pit Fiend flew in a circle, like a Vulture overhead before landing with a THUD!!!
The Pit Fiend, almost 20 feet in height, towered over the Devil that had been speaking to Wrath. But as he landed, the Pit Fiend prostrated himself upon all fours, bringing his own eyes down to the level of the other Devil which stood before him.
The Devil nodded at the Pit Fiend, who nodded in return. It was quite clear that the two of them were in telepathic communication.
The Devil then turned to Wrath, his eyes flashing Red, before he spoke for the final time to him.
"The Very Same. Bel shall be your Guide through this level of Hell. He will show you all there is to see. And I wish you to see it ALL."
"Why do you wish this of me? To show me the Hells in their entirety? Are you to remind me of my own Damnation, then? To show me the horrors of my own grim fate?"
"No, Wrath. It is because I do NOT wish to DRAG you to the Hells...I want to give you the TOUR!! I want you to know full well what I intend for you, my child. And I want you to know it WELL."
"Can this all be done in such a short time? I will be asleep for only about ten hours or so..."
"Hahaha. This is a DREAM, Wrath. And in a Dream...time is meaningless.
Time is a construct of the CONSCIOUS mind, remember? In a Dream..time is nothing. I can keep you here for as long as I wish...and in the Prime Material, where your body lies, only HOURS shall pass."
The Pit Fiend glowered down at Wrath before approaching him. The Pit Fiend smiled, it's foul ichor dripping down it's face as it stared down the tiny little man, a harumph escaping his throat as he appraised the tiny thing standing before him.
"Bah...the little mortal stands beneath my feet...shall I crush it then, wipe it from my Realm as one would wipe away excrement from a boot?"
Wrath stood up to the bully, however, as he always had. For he was Wrath. And he was full of Rage. None would oppress him. None would bully him. Not even this THING that dared to stand before him. And so, defiantly, Wrath stood his ground against the Monstrous Visage that stand ready to strike him.
"You may TRY IT, FIEND, but know that I shall not be conquered so easily!" the Aspect screamed. Bel was not impressed, and he merely laughed at the tiny man.
"Fear Not, little Mortal." Bel replied. "I am under orders not to HARM you. Only Guide you. And to answer your questions...with SOME degree of obfuscation. Can't tell you EVERYTHING. But I am also under orders...that I cannot LIE to you."
"I see."
"Now then, little Mortal. Follow me....I have such SIGHTS to show you.."
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
The next to Awaken of Desmodu's Aspects was the Sin of Heresy.
As Heresy opened his eyes he found himself upon a cold, dark, unforgiving ground. As he slowly stood, he felt the metal underneath his fingers, and felt the rust upon it.
"Iron." he said. "I am in a place...made of Iron?"
Heresy slowly rose to his feet, gazing around him. He gazed up, and saw naught but a black sky, seemingly filled with green smoke. Every now and again a flash of Lightning would cross the sky, and always seemed to strike a giant Ivory Tower in the distance.
As Heresy gazed at the streets he could see them glowing red with heat. And yet, for some reason, he was not being burned..though the sheer temperature of such should be incinerating his skin.
As he turned to scan his horizon he turned around and came face to face with a very familiar looking Devil. The one whom had cooked him such a wonderful meal earlier. The Devil looked down at Heresy with a warm smile, and glowing red eyes.
"Welcome, Heretic, to the Iron City of Dis. The second Layer of Baator."
"Why have you brought me here? Am I to burn in this city of Iron and Rust until the End Times are Nigh?"
"Hehehe. No, child. I am here to give you the Tour. Or, rather, I am here to hand you off to one who will.
One of my greatest advisors and military strategists. The Lord of Iron. Or, as you may now him on the Prime..."
"Dispater. The Heretic Made Flesh."
"Indeed. Those Lawful Evil souls whom are Godless or Heretics to their Church, the Baatezu claim from the Wall of the Faithless. Here, they are placed into burning Graves. Some upside down. Some rightside up...and they burn forever in the fires of the Iron City. Over time, their old selves are burned away..and new Devils they become."
"I see. So it is your torture of Souls that changes them into new Devils?"
"Indeed. When a Soul of a Damned enters the Shores of Despond in Avernus above, Charon and his Boatmen will ferry the souls of the Heretics into this place. Men who defied their church and their Gods. Dispater burns these souls well, and siphons their essence so that he may continue to build and fortify his tower and the city below it."
"I have never, in all of my travels, seen such a Metropolis."
"The Iron City of Dis is the greatest City in the Hells. Planeswalkers from all over the cosmos come here to trade. In the City below you will find the rarest arcane reagents, the finest jewels dug from deep within the Earth of many planes. Drugs. Slaves. Whatever you need...here, you shall find it in droves. And, more to the point, in the open! We do not hide our depravity here, Heresy.
We do not judge you. This is Hell, after all. If you are here...you have, likely, ALREADY been judged."
Heresy merely chuckled.
"So what you are saying...is that I should feel right at home?"Heresy said as he looked up to the towering Devil above him. The Devil merely looked down at him and chuckled.
"What I am saying...is that I hope you do! Come, walk with me, Dispater does not leave his Iron Tower unless properly summoned. I could teleport us there, but, that would spoil you the splendor of seeing the city. And all here shall move to clear my path should I walk through..."
"You are a Figure of Authority here in the Hells, then?"
The Devil merely let out a deep, hearty laugh.
"I suppose you could say that I have....Free Reign..to come and go as I please here."
"You....you are....
"...you are the FIRST HERETIC!!!! You are...."
"I have had MANY names over the eons, Heresy. Lucifer...Satan...."
"YOU ARE ASMODEUS!! KING OF ALL THE HELLS!!"
The Devil let out a deep, roaring, resounding laugh that seemed to echo upon the very skies of this dark place. His eyes flashed with pure Diabolic power as he looked down to Heresy.
"The One. The Only. The SAME!!!"
Heresy gasped, as he fell back, landing upon his butt, crawling away from the towering Devil above him.
"You lie...."
Asmodeus' eyes turned an even deeper shade of Red and he seemed, for a moment, exceptionally ANGRY.
"I DO NOT LIE!! THAT IS THE DOMAIN OF THAT SLUG BAALZEBUL, NOT OF ME!"
Heresy recoiled in fear, covering his face and hiding it, afraid of what the Fiend before him intended to do. He whimpered like an insect, standing before a God.
"Do not Fear, Heresy. A brief outburst of Anger...my apologies. I...do not like to be called a Liar. I am not the Lord of Lies. That title belongs to the Archdevil Baalzebul, Lord of the Seventh. The Lord of Lies, and Lord of the Flies. He is a feckless SLUG."
"He is, indeed, a Slug. Are you not the one who cursed him with his current Visage?"
"Indeed I am."
"May I ask what he did to incur your Ire, so that I may not ever make the same mistake?"
Asmodeus let out a deep, resounding, almost APPRECIATIVE laugh.
"Have I said something humorous, Dark One?"
"I have always been a fan of Comedy, Heresy. In fact, I suppose you could say I helped inspire a few of them to be written. One of them was most..."Divine", we shall say? It is one of the reasons that I have come to appreciate you as a whole, Desmodu. Your sense of humor and mine are similar."
"I...am humbled, by your compliment, King of Hells.."
Asmodeus only laughed even harder.
"The Devil is the greatest Teacher, my boy. And the First Lesson I will teach you is thus: To HELL with Humility. Humility is a trait for those not aware of their own Greatness. You stand here, now, before the Lord of all Hells. And HE is YOUR TOUR GUIDE. Do NOT humble yourself before me, my child. For Humility and subservience...is weakness. And YOU. ARE. NOT. WEAK!!"
Heresy and Desmodu walked next to each other for several hours, making their way to the Iron Tower of Dispater. They walked of Infernal Politics and of the Rhyme and reason of the city before, finally, after a very long walk the two of them stood underneath the heavily guarded Iron Gate of Dispater's Iron Tower.
Asmodeus reached forth with his Ruby Rod..and politely KNOCKED on the front door.
"I thought you had Free Reign to come and go as you please in this place, Dark Lord. Why is it then that you bother to Knock? Can you not just walk in?"
"I can. The Second Lesson I will teach you today, my child:
Power and Authority do NOT Forgive lack of Civility!!!!"
Heresy nodded.
"One would think the King of All Sin had no reason to be polite to anybody..."
"Quite the Contrary, my friend. As King of Hell...I must set an EXAMPLE. I am GOOD to the people who are GOOD to me. I reward those who serve me well...
...and PUNISH those who fail. As. It. SHOULD BE."
Heresy nodded, grimly, and then uttered:
"Even GODS should be held to Standards..."
"PREACH CHILD! HAHAHA!!"
All of the Devils guarding the Iron gate began to laugh with them both. After a few moments of uproarious laughter the front Gate of the Iron Tower, a solid Portcullis, was lifted.
Standing before them was a MASSIVE Iron Golem, which glared down at the two of them.
It was then the Iron Golem SPOKE!!!
"The Master will see you both now, Lord Asmodeus and...Guest."
"It Speaks....the Golem, it is intelligent?"
"Being capable of Speech does not automatically assume "Intelligence." Just look at you, little Mortal. Your kind never seems to SHUT UP..."
Heresy, Asmodeus, and all of the Devils guarding the gate couldn't help but laugh at that one.
"This is Talos.The Oldest Servant of the Lord of Iron, Dispater. Your Storm God took his name."
"It is an Honor, Sir...or ma'am?"
"Just Talos. And never refer to me as an "It", that REALLY grinds my gears.."
"Talos it is, then."
"Talos is almost as old as the city itself. And in fact, stored within his Chassis, is actually a very powerful magic item."
"Oh? What is it?"
"Are you familiar with the Netherese Archlich known as Aumvors?"
"Only faintly. I am told he created a spell that allowed him to split his Phylactery into multiple pieces, is that the one?"
"Indeed. The "Core" piece of Aumvor's Phylactery...is INSIDE of Talos' chest."
"Really!?" Heresy questioned.
"Indeed. Aumvors is...shall we call him an "Old Friend" of Dispater. When Dispater needs particularly rare magic items he makes a call to Aumvors who, due to their "arrangement", is usually more than happy to provide when asked. After all: his Phylactery is, quite literally, in one of the single-most secured "Vaults" in all the Planes.."
Asmodeus reached over and clanged his hand against the chest of Talos several times, each time resonating like the toll of a bell.
For several HOURS, it seemed, they navigated the deep, labyrinthian maze of the Iron Tower until, finally, they approached the Throne Room.
And there He sat, upon the Iron Throne. (( Har har. )) Dispater, the Iron Lord, Lord of the Second.
His hair was long and flowing black, and his skin was a pale blue, as if his very skin were of galvanized Iron. His eyes were purest black, save for red irises which focused their Gaze upon Heresy and Asmodeus as if it were an Engineer trying to figure out how to tear them apart piece by piece.
The Duke stood, reaching to well over 9 feet in height as he slowly approached the two. One of his legs was human. The other a Cloven Hoof, not unlike a Minotaur. He approached them, slowly, his Iron Scepter in hand, and as he stood before Asmodeus he bowed a deep, respectful bow.
"This is the Heretic, then? That you wish for me to....educate, my Lord?"
"The Same. Teach him your ways, Dispater. Teach him to PLAN. Teach him to SCHEME. Teach him how to tear his enemies apart from within. Teach him to set Traps. Teach him HISTORY. Teach him all he WISHES he could ever learn about STRATEGY."
"It shall be done, my Lord. But may I ask..why?"
"Because, Dispater...
HE IS MY NEW DISCIPLE!!!!
..AND HE. MUST. LEARN!!!!"
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.
So in honor of the people I have, in fact, idolized since my youth....
