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[IronyOwl]

D: at least I'm trying.

I know, but it feels like you're trying from the wrong end.

An extensive rewrite of my character is probably merited but *shrugs*

Yeah, it's fine if you don't want to mess with it. I know how hard bringing yourself to do a rewrite is, too.

[Harry Baldman]

Very nice sheet. Gives a very clear image of Sammacle's (rather poor) mental state and personality. Which is funny, because I'm still not sure what he does beyond management. Also clear, interesting connections to Jezel and to an extent Oggletop, which makes him an easy character to slot in.

I imagine him as kind of an accounts man, hanging out around Oggletop's offices and making sure there's no unpleasantness or misunderstanding between him and Jezel, and overseeing that the stipulations of the contract are fulfilled to both sides' maximum possible satisfaction. The contract, I imagine, is something highly nebulous and not readily explicable, as old and powerful things tend to be (Sammacle himself only having a superficial understanding of it), and both sides are very willing to try and screw the other one over on some of the less understandable parts. It's Sammacle's job to try and tip the scales in Jezel's favor, which is highly difficult with his understanding of the contract itself, while keeping Oggletop reasonably happy and unsuspecting, which he never is, being rightly paranoid about getting screwed over if he lets his guard down.

The contract itself, I further imagine, is one of those affairs where there's more fine print than plain stipulations, and the main error of Sammacle's progenitors was that they managed to tangle themselves up in all the fine print and give Oggletop a very unfortunate exploit of some kind.

[Demonic Spoon]

"Oggletop found you in a crate of imported bananas, and then off you scurried."

So I'm a spider? I admit this made me chuckle.

I was thinking Shaksal sees me as some sort pet that he nudges now and again, trying to get it to improve itself. The old and lazy family dog that you sometimes try to teach tricks as it were.

[endlessblaze]

Well maybe instead of trying to write detials to his sheet I can write up part of his life? Let his actions and thoughts speak for him?

Or we can just go ahead and start and he can be AEWSOME in game.
 Whatever you wana do.

[Kadzar]

I just wanted to make this character, though I don't know if I'd have time to play it. If someone else wants to take it instead, I'd be fine with that.

One thing I'm not sure of is if I got the nature of sacrifice right. Also, I didn't fill in the minor contacts. I might do that later, or, if someone else is playing him, they could do that (I could still do that even if someone else is playing him, but I don't really have time for it right now).

Spoiler: Shezirad the Bloody Hollow (click to show/hide)

Name: Shezirad (his original name is unknown. Some say he sacrificed it for something or another.)
Epithet: The Bloody Hollow
Physical Description: A black suit of armor with spikes all over it and a horned, skull-shaped helmet. From the eye-holes emanates a glowing red mist, which fills the entirety of the otherwise hollow suit of armor. On the inside of the armor are sigils of blood, written in a long forgotten language.
Mental Description: Overly paranoid and slow to trust or make new friends. He believes anyone he meets could be a spy or agent of Ocaris, whom he betrayed. He also hates forming attachments, even though they make his sacrifices stronger, since his love for them is sometimes all he can remember of his victims, besides their screaming and pleading. And, above all else, he still has ambitions of greatness, if only at this point to simply justify what he has done.
Bio: Shezirad was once one of a race of small, weak, purple-skinned goblin-like creatures called Filchlings. He lived in a small rented hovel in Bloom with his mother, his wife, and their six children. They had basically naught but each other to call their own,  but they were all reasonably happy and content, all except the son/husband/father, who dreamt of nothing but greatness.

One day, a chance encounter saw him saving the life of Akarzankus, Demon of Sacrifice. Asking what the little Filchling would like in return, he said he would like the great demon to make him mighty. Akarzankus said this was within his power, but, as the Demon of Sacrifice, he needed something in return. The Filchling told him he nothing to his name but his loved ones. Akarzankus told him their slaughter by his own hands would do.

So the little Filchling went back to his hovel that day and found his mother there, alone. Surely the Demon of Sacrifice didn't mean for me to kill my whole family, he thought. My mother is old and feeble; she's lived a long enough life. And once I am mighty, I will be able to take care of the rest of my family better. So he led her to a secluded place and slew her. Later that night, when the children asked where their grandmother was, he told them she out of town visiting a friend, which she had forgotten to mention to them earlier.

The next day, he went to Akarzankus and asked him if his sacrifice was accepted. The great gold golem said it was, but it was not yet enough. So the Filchling bid him good day and headed back to his hovel. On his way back, he came across one of his middle children, playing alone. Surely the sacrifice of one of my own children will be enough, thought the Filchling, and, as a middle child of six, he isn't likely to get much of an inheritance anyway. So he slew his son in a secluded place. And when his wife later asked him where their son was, he told her he hadn't seen him. They spent the rest of the night looking for him, and only gave up when they were too tired to walk.

Again, the next day, he returned to Akarzankus to ask if his sacrifice was accepted. Again he said it was, but still wasn't enough. This day, he came across two of his middle children. They were the twins, a boy and girl, the best of friends and never separate from each other. If one child wasn't enough, it's clear that simply another one won't tip the scales, thought the Filchling. But if half of my children have been sacrificed, surely that has to count for something. But I don't want to sacrifice my youngest or oldest, and if either of these two were killed, the other would be devastated. Clearly the only merciful thing to do would be to kill them together. So he took them to a secluded place and slew the twin together. And again, when his wife asked if he had seen the twins, he feigned ignorance. He wasn't quite sure if she still believed him, but they both went searching for their children again that night, stopping only out of sheer exhaustion.

And again he returned to Akarzankus, and again he was told his sacrifice was accepted, and again it was still not enough. This day, he found no children on his way home. He returned to his hovel to find them with their mother, who was watching them closely.

I'll not be able to sacrifice any more children with her around, thought the Filchling. But maybe children aren't the proper sacrifice. If I slay my darling wife, I can always remarry or hire a nanny to take care of the children. But if I slay all the children, she'll be suspicious of me for the rest of our lives. And so, in the middle of the night, the Filchling slit his sleeping wife's throat, then disposed of the body before morning.

And the next day he went to visit the Demon of Sacrifice, and again the sacrifice was accepted, but still it was not enough. And so he went home, intending to slay his second-youngest child, but his oldest child tried to intervene, so he had to slay him too. And he saw that his youngest child, whom he had previously sent out of the hovel along with his older brother before the sacrificing began, had wandered in an seen the whole thing. Nearly blind with tears, he chased the boy down and slew him too.

Finally, the Filchling returned to Akarzankus. He was told his sacrifice was accepted, and it was finally enough. The great demon transformed the small, weak Filchling into a big, strong warrior, and bestowed upon him greater intellect. He was now mighty.

That day the Filchling took on the name Shezirad, and became a great warrior. His exploits soon caught the eye of Ocaris, Master of War, who took him under his wing and taught him a great deal about warfare and the production of soldiers. In time, the two even became close friends.

One day, Akarzankus contacted Shezirad with a proposition: if he sacrificed Ocaris's most prized women, the great golden golem would teach him secrets about the nature of sacrifice, which could one day lead to him becoming greater than Ocaris himself.

Shezirad was conflicted. He greatly valued Ocaris's friendship, and he feared the Master of War's great might, but in the end his lust for power was greater, and, a few days later, he fled from Ocaris's fortress in the night, having slain the women.

And Akarzankus stayed true to his word, but Shezirad felt this new power alone was not enough to protect him from Ocaris's wrath. So he commissioned Wrack, Master of Implements, to construct a magical suit of armor for him. And Shezirad then sacrificed his own body to fuel a powerful protection spell placed on the armor.

And though he was much safer now (despite no longer being able eat or drink or procreate), Shezirad still feared Ocaris's retribution, so when Akarzankus mentioned the Ebon Pact, he jumped upon the chance. In this new world, he might finally feel safe from the Master of War, and here he could build up his own army, so that he might be able to one day defeat and kill Ocaris, sparing himself of worry any longer and perhaps even taking on his title.


Affiliations
-Akarzankus, Demon of Sacrifice: A great bejewelled golden golem. Specializes in expensive projects. He basically made Shezirad what he is today and taught him great secrets about the art of sacrifice. He also his taking on the Ebon Pact. But Sherizad is nearly even with him, favor wise, since he sacrificed much for these things.
-Ocaris, Master of War: A small male humanoid with interests in mass prodction and attractive women. Talented at producing massive legions of expendable soldiers, and lord of the largest artifical battleground and associated facilities in Bloom. He was Sherizad's mentor and friend. But they became great enemies when Sherizad sacrificed his most prized women to Akarzankus for power.
-Wrack, Master of Implements: A lanky mushroomlike humanoid with interests in forging and insanity. Unrivaled at working inanimate materials, and grand smith of the largest forge in the city. He created the magical suit of armor which Sherizad's spirit now inhabits.

Contacts
-
-
-

Invent 3 entities, in any detail you like, as Contacts- reliable conduits of information and business. Contacts are generally assumed to know
you reasonably well and vice versa, and to have relatively functional, routine interactions with you. Beyond this, Contacts may be virtually
anything, though for obvious reasons you and most Contacts likely have something to offer each other.

[micelus]

You made a character for someone else to play?

[Kadzar]

Well, I read people were having some trouble with character motivation and backstory, and I already had a character idea from when I saw this thread earlier but didn't submit because I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep up with the thread.

I will agree that it's a weird thing to do, but this thread inspired the idea, so it's not like I could take it elsewhere, and I so rarely have an opportunity to write a character that's so full-on evil.

[IronyOwl]

Prologue: Rise


Six Kings have arisen!
Sammacle, the Elder Princeling!
Mael, The Ninth Son That Crawls And Writhes Resplendent In Ultramarine Upon The Crypts of Child-Queens, the Skin-Weaver!
Tlanextli, the False-Thrown Sun!
Secrahz Markosl Dubarz, the Dreameater!
Phor Yevell, the Siege Architect!
Vas'nox, the Father of Ill Fates!


Even in Bloom, there must be a bit of ceremony.

The initial meeting spot wasn't hard to get to, nor was it especially important. Just an intersection of streets to gather in, so as to arrive at the real destination together and coherent looking. Everyone arrived at a leisurely pace and with time to spare, save poor Sammacle who arrived with all the grace of a panicked herd animal, needlessly concerned that some last-minute business might have made him late.

The trip to the actual destination was short and relatively to the point; other than looking somewhat regal and keeping your nerves down, there wasn't much to be done save walk. Or slither, in Markosl's case.

The issue of nerves was not one to be taken lightly, however. The site of your formal ascension was an amphitheater of sorts, riven with individual balconies, platforms, cages, even slits to watch from. From these myriad perches loomed some of the greatest entities in the city; most technically beneath you in raw power and status now, but often laughably more influential and wealthy than your current status. Some stared with amusement or disdain, merely here for the show. Most watched with the hungry, measuring eyes of apex predators, judging you for potential utility or danger.

Straight ahead, the amphitheater gave way to a wall of copper steps leading to an elaborate throne. Platforms descended to either side, holding the Lords of Bloom in no particular arrangement. Much harder to read than the looks of naked greed and paranoia adorning most common powers, most simply stared ahead impassively or admired the crowd.

The arrival of Asudarai Kei Talmalach was fairly rapid and without much fanfare, save the tingling sensation of dread and power on your skin. She simply flew in unceremoniously, daintily placed herself on the throne, and sat there a moment while most of the audience shrank a bit or made signs of respect or supplication.

A moment later, she raised her hand and the world became a tide of crimson power. As it faded, red runes flared to life on your skin and the ground beneath you. The former dulled down after a moment, while the latter continued to hum and build with power.

With that, your fate was sealed. Asudarai Kei Talmalach, Empress of Strength, simply floated into the air and flew off again, her task complete. The runes would slowly charge in power, and when ready, fire the lot of you to your new destination. The circle would even forcibly drag you back if it had to; not recommended for dignity's sake, but there was no missing this appointment anymore.

In the meantime... you have business to attend to. As you are now officially and irrevocably one of the Six Kings, you have much to offer and much you may need. The vultures perched around you might be open to negotiations, but beware- they are not your servants. If they make a deal with you, it will be because they feel they benefit adequately from it. Additionally, while the power of the ritual can take some possessions or creatures with you, it is generally considered poor form to make your first appearance desperately clutching luggage. Anything you barter for here will likely need to be summoned at some cost later; some arrangements can reduce the cost to you above by dealing with it below, but it's a cost nonetheless.

Finally, you have several more specific and proactive suitors, inaptly named Supplicants. Supplicants are those creatures that feel they have useful, immediate business with you specifically, but despite the name, merely getting this far implies a certain level of power and skill that is not to be taken likely. Additionally, like anything else you are likely to deal with down here in any way other than buying outright, Supplicants are also here for their own sakes, not yours. Most will want a steep fee at the least and a cut of your crown at worst.

You could also, of course, simply avoid dealing with this nest of vipers entirely and wait until the ritual activates, but you might be losing out on useful, if expensive, opportunities. A handful of creatures might even be open to smalltalk or friendly advice, especially those you have (amicable) history with. Whatever you decide to do, you'd best be quick about it; the runes won't take long to charge, and then you'll be stuck negotiating through rituals on the surface world.

Individual Turns

Spoiler: Sammacle (click to show/hide)

Today's a day just like any other, which is to say a living nightmare that refuses to end. First some last-minute, probably entirely intentional business between Jezel and Oggletop needed to be resolved very quickly before you went and nearly made you late. Then you became quite certain an entire clan of Grisell was staring at you from one of the rooftops. And now Jezel is smiling at you from its platform... it doesn't have a face, but you can feel it all the same. You're not sure you want to know why, but you're quite sure you don't want to not know why.

Nervously approaching your two visible Supplicants, you wave for them to continue.


The first is immediately recognizable as a Grisell; a thick, low V-shaped crestlike head, a wiry, disturbingly thin, very nearly humanoid body spoiled by having four legs rather than two, and a stubby tail of an abdomen. Six yellow, blue-slit eyes arranged in two columns, a surprisingly humanoid-looking mouth, and a handful of tribal markings- four blue and two red "notches" along the edges of its face- complete the picture. You know Grisell face markings tend to indicate things, but you're far too ignorant of Grisell House workings to have the faintest idea what these ones signify.

You do, however, know that Grisell are far stronger and more ferocious than their girth would indicate, that they breed incredibly quickly, and that they are usually engaged in various forms of genocidal clan warfare. They're one of the most common creatures in Bloom, and find constant use in a variety of fields.

It begins speaking in a fairly feminine voice tinged with a hint of rasp or buzz.

"Greetings, Lord Sammacle. This one is Blackrack Otorome Melsis, Hand of the Quarter Moon. You will face much conflict in your new duties, and we would offer a solution. A squad of our finest Otome-touched suppressors could easily handle any threats you might face, and we could subsidize the cost of summoning as many common soldiers as you desired. In exchange, we ask only that the weak and foolish nobles of your new city be replaced by me and my kin."

You're pretty sure some of what she's saying has meaning you're not up to date on, but you're familiar with the Otome. They're the giant floating things that look a bit like softbodied invertebrate marine life; each one looks different, as they "grow" by mastering the art of warping their own flesh. This practice extends to other creatures as well, and they're known for keeping a variety of mortals for use in ritualized magic duels against each other. That a clan of Grisell could acquire powered-up elite forces from one seems plausible enough, and the being in front of you certainly seems like it could pull its weight in a fight.

Otherwise, its offer is a fairly standard one- you rip out and replace the entire nobility of Miraga with this thing and its kin, and they provide you with an elite brute squad and cheaper infantry. You have no idea what the connotations of trying to supplant Miraga's nobles might be, but you know giving Grisell even the slightest foothold is likely to result in them breeding their way into a thoroughly entrenched position.


Your other supplicant is a male humanoid with pale skin, hair, and eyes, and clad in pale robes. He looks arguably more Kingly than you do, actually, and speaks in a gentle voice that carries an unnatural force of persuasion with it.

"Sammacle! Dear, dear friend. Won't you be lonely up there? Won't you be unhappy? The people will blame you for things, Sammacle. Blame you for all sorts of things. Never fear! I am Sacarsis, and I am here to help. Simply grant me noble title and rights to the city's justice, and I will ensure that everyone everywhere knows you are not to blame, Sammacle. Doesn't that all sound so much smoother than you had feared?"

Listening to him talk for a while leaves no doubt that he's in possession of supernatural negotiation abilities, and is about as manipulative as you'd expect as a result. No doubt he'd be exceptional at smoothing over and persuading the locals, but he'd be likely to try his hand at you as well. His price is somewhat vague; being in charge of "the city's justice" could satisfy any number of goals, from obscure cultural imperatives to a simple power grab. If you had to guess, though, based on his fine clothing, appearance, and skillset, he's probably accustomed to an opulent lifestyle surrounded by a fanatical cult of worshipers.

Spoiler: Maelocht the Blue (click to show/hide)

At last, the day of your ascension has arrived. Soon you'll be in your new dominion... with all that entails. The vipers around you could prove handy or be your undoing in the endeavors to come.

Kaikari has remained, and is waggling her eyebrows at you, while Echtholomon flashes you a knowing smirk. Miku is sitting in a nearby balcony, covered in various crawling things, and gives you a friendly wave.


Your first Supplicant is... no. It couldn't be... but of course it is, because of course it is.

The creature before you is tauric in the loosest sense of the word, a hideous pasty maggot topped by a hideous pasty vaguely humanoid maggot. Its eyeless, featureless domed head sports a hideous maw, mostly gums save for sporadic, tiny teeth poking through. Two columns of teats running down its torso provide the only evidence of the creature's gender that you'd care to examine without gloves and a long pole.

Golgocht the Vile, a fleshcrafter like yourself. You thought you'd killed her twice; the first time you hadn't paid it much mind, the second time you'd remembered the first well enough to be dubious. You never managed a third time, though a handful of maimings and partially effective censures confirmed the wretched thing's resilience on multiple levels.

It begins to speak in the sort of wet, rasping, vaguely feminine sort of tone you'd expect from such an abomination.

"Good to see you, old friend. Hoping to make your new home a paradise? You won't do that without a lot of assistance, you know. A bit of muscle, something to keep the streets clean? So lucky for you that I'm in such a good mood now. Me and my beauties could keep everything nice and orderly, just as it should be... In exchange, I keep any pretties I find, and get first dibs on any you uncover elsewhere."

Of course. Golgocht has always been obsessed with finding more breeding stock to spawn malformed but dangerously talented abominations from; her fleshwarping ability is of a rather more whole-cloth and unrefined affair than the precision of your Flesh Cant, and primarily useful for exaggerating a creature's abilities or granting it some gimmick or another. She's especially fond of spellcasters for that reason, and so would likely tend to round those up for good or ill. Other than that, she'd be both motivated and capable of hunting down any enemies you might have, as well as more than able to produce or import freakish spawn to help out. It'd also mean that wretched freak would be practicing a maimed approximation of fleshcraft in your city, with a harem of pet undesirables and a legion of the worst abominations to ever see the light of day. It's also clear that she hasn't forgotten that you keep trying to murder her.


Your other Supplicant is far less repulsive than Golgocht, though as a corpulent toadlike reptile of a humanoid that tells you more about Golgocht than him.

"Ah, sire! I am Peaches, Master of Comfort! I know what you're thinking, sire! 'Why would I want one of those,' well, let me just tell you, sire! You like mortals, sire, everyone does. Always need specimens, especially for a master artisan such as yourself! But mortals are... erratic, sire! They don't always want what's best for everyone. That's where ol' Peaches comes in! I have a talent with them, sire, comforting them after loss or despair. A little shepherding and soon they're bright and chipper again- handy, that, for all manner of things! But more importantly, sire, they're very grateful, and listen to ol' Peaches when he tells them what comes next. Right into your arms they'd go, sire, all ready to be used as you deem most befitting. Much better than hunting them down and then hearing them complain about it afterwards, isn't it? All I ask in exchange is a modest fee in accordance with my extensive services, as well as the funding to properly ply my trade, sire!"

Interesting. A mortal herder could indeed be handy, but most likely he preys primarily on the weak and desperate- not exactly prime stock. He's also, regardless of how servile he sounds, not likely to be in the charity business, so his "modest" fees are likely to be anything but. Still, having willing specimens on hand probably would be better than having to hunt them down, assuming you needed mortals for anything they were insistent on running from.

Spoiler: Tlanextli (click to show/hide)

Well, here you are. A great step forward in a direction you'd rather not take... but your course is set. Soon you'll begin building up the kind of power you need, and then...

Well, first things first. You'll need assistance in your endeavors, some of which might or might not come from here. Soulrot's here, obviously, as are Telu and Mar. The former nods kindly to you when you meet his gaze, while the latter appear to be whispering animatedly to each other.


Your first Supplicant... looks... familiar...

Comely, fair, and glowing with an inner radiance, your first Supplicant is clearly an angel. Possessing a willowy build, familiar face, and slightly nervous expression, she's also very likely met you before. Well then. Her voice matches her appearance, and makes you a bit homesick for the trappings of proper divinity.

"Great Tlanextli, Ever-Radiant and Sublime, I come to you on behalf of your people. For too long have they suffered under the yoke of their own ignorance, and... that of those that would seek to exploit them. I wish for nothing more than to offer them guidance and succor, and help them regain their devotion to the true gods, that they might find salvation and prosperity once again."

It breaks your heart to have to even consider turning down her offer, but her terms are as dangerous as they are selfless. She doesn't seem to be offering to serve you so much as your new subjects... and what's more, your new subjects in their devotion to the gods. While you have little doubt the people of Miraga could do with an angel's prowess and guidance, you're not certain how you and your ilk will fit into her teachings, and unrest on that front could do more harm than good. Then again, if the city was desperate enough to agree to this blasphemous pact in the first place, religious disagreements might be the least of either of your worries.


Your other Supplicant isn't so much fair as unnaturally pale, a handsome male humanoid with pale grey skin, red eyes, and white hair pulled into a ponytail. His attire is largely gold-trimmed red and black leather, and you recognize him as some manner of blasphemous vampire.

"Greetings, Lord Tlanextli. My name is Samuel, and I come here offering my services to your noble cause. You'll have need of soldiers, my lord, and I can provide them. In exchange for the right to do as I wish and confer like privileges upon those I deem worthy, me and my companions will gladly take up arms against any foe that dares face you in the night. And of course, should you wish to deem certain mortals immune- say, those offering you a substantial fee?- I'm sure we would have no trouble complying, making you a very popular man. As well, should any of my associated become disillusioned with my wise leadership, no doubt you would have just the tools to bring them to heel and salvage your people once again, mmm? What do you say to that, my lord?"

A potent offer, and a very, very dark one. You're fairly certain this is a variety of vampire that grows stronger by killing; letting him and his spawn rampage through the city would produce an impressive body count and an impressive set of monsters. You can also tell that the abominations are burned by sunlight, which could indeed give you a decided advantage against any that went rogue... and if you were willing to be a bit deceptive, might indeed help make you a symbol of salvation from their predations. On the other hand, you'd be feeding your people to unholy beasts, they'd be useless during the day, and splinter infestations would likely be a periodic occurrence, not an unfortunate possibility.

Spoiler: Markosl (click to show/hide)

You're awake. All of you. Strangely, most creatures don't see the obvious parallels to "living hell from which there is no escape" when you tell them that, which perhaps explains why it'd be rude for any of you to sleep here. No, no, gotta chat with mud piles on a large piece of driftwood. That'll be fantastic.

Off you go, then.


Your first Supplicant is a tiny, light grey rabbit with black eyes. Like most tiny, cute things in Bloom, that probably makes it a terror-basted delicacy or a being of unspeakable evil. Given that it's a Supplicant, most likely the latter.

It begins pulsing thoughts directly into your head, in a sweet, saccharine voice.

"Greetings! My name is Tea, and I'd like to help! I know you've got better things to do than look after every little thing, so I'm willing to forge Dream Warriors to battle threats in both realms for you! Don't worry, I'll make sure to harvest some good materials out of them before they burn out into Nightmare Cores as well! Just make sure I'm well supplied, and I'll handle all the rest."

Unspeakable evil alright. Most likely going to recruit children to battle their own ravening predecessors, as well as whatever mundane things you throw at them. It's likely a good process as far as muscle goes, and the part where you don't do anything sounds fantastic, but you're a little concerned with polluting nearby dreamscapes with the ravening shells of insane soldiers.


Your other Supplicant is a female humanoid torso with centipede for a lower half, both of which scintillate and shift colors constantly. She's wearing a vibrant but stable shirt and hat.

When she speaks, it's with the fast-mouthed enthusiasm of a street entrepreneur.

"Hello hello hello! Name's Tia, Tia the Small they call me and have I got a deal for you! Tired of those dull dreams, flat fantasies, and idling imaginations? Well look no further, because with your relentless powers of creation and my managerial expertise, we can both have a dreamscape fit for a king and better at stimulating the mind! All I ask is that you continue to apply your godlike strength to actually shape the dream as requested, and in exchange I'll maintain and manage it, no worries about it collapsing or suffering wear n tear, certainly no worried about it not being used or getting too full, yessir I'll do all the work except the heavy lifting, and in no time at all your dream quality should be through the roof! Whatya say boss, can you really afford not to fashion Tia's Dreamland?"

Well... that's interesting.

Dreams, as you well know, normally only exist when something is actively dreaming them. Some creatures, however, your Supplicant apparently being among them, can persist in and maintain a dream world without a coherently identifiable dreamer. Her offer, then, appears to be for you to craft her dreamland for her, which she would then manage in such a way as to improve the dream quality of the city's inhabitants, presumably via inspiration and training. She likely has some other goals of her own, but otherwise it's a plausible scheme... but one that would require an awful lot of work from you.

Spoiler: Phor Yevell (click to show/hide)

Well, here you are. Negotiating with court vultures isn't likely to be your strong suit, but you've nothing to do until the ritual fires anyway, and this is unlikely to be the last social activity required of you in your new position.


Your first Supplicant is a squat greyish dragon, its broad head roughly the length of your torso. Its curved ramlike horns appear to have holes in them, and a well-secured necklace dangles several bones and tokens from its neck.

"Great Phor Yevell, Whisperer of Steel, I greet you. I am Kar Ragash, Scourge of Bone. My prowess in battle is undisputed, and my mighty war-horns instill courage into even the most blithering fool. Grant me a place by your side, and I shall stamp out the weakness that surely festers in your new city. Cowardice is a rot that spreads from place to place, and can only be excised entirely and without reservation. If but one child under your reign is a coward, your city will soon feel the heel of a new master. With me and my chosen as chieftains, neither shall ever come to pass."

He sounds distinctly tribal, and not from the peaceful sort of tribe. Most likely he'd try to transform the city into a warrior culture given the chance, which would have its obvious advantages and drawbacks. His desire to rule could also conflict with other powers, but likely save you some hassle managing them yourself.


Your other Supplicant is a female humanoid with bronze-toned skin, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, and blank white eyes. Her attire is minimal and largely red cloth and sculpted bronze in a serpent motif.

"Greetings, Great One. My name is Selenite of Bloodstone, and I come seeking your patronage. I am a talented warrior and huntress seeking companions, and would gladly train you an elite clan of warriors should you allow it. In exchange, I would expect me and my warriors to be well equipped and compensated, as well as to have full rights to do as we wish with any locals."

An elite cadre of warriors sounds nice, but likely expensive in more ways than one. "Full rights to do as we wish with any locals" tends to result in a lot of unhappy, fearful locals.

Spoiler: Vas'nox (click to show/hide)

The old feelings are coming back. This isn't a safe place; power surrounds you, dwarfing you. It's even more important than normal to keep your composure, lest they smell your fear, so you don't dare avoid being seen searching for possible allies.


Your first Supplicant is a robed humanoid; his face is concealed by a cowl, but you can make out relatively normal humanoid features under it regardless. The tips of tentacles writhe gently from under his sleeves and hem, however.

His voice is gentle, but with a peculiar humming or echoing quality to it.

"Greetings, your majesty. I am known as Pinnacle, and I train people. Within dreams, they master the arts of stealth and infiltration, refining both skill and purpose, and so achieve heights they had not thought possible. If you would sanction my efforts in the world above, I could provide you with invaluable information, given enough time and ample material compensation."

Sounds straightforward enough, though you notice that he's not so much offering to train you a lot of spies as to train infiltrators in general and then direct some of them when you need (and pay for) something. That may involve some upkeep costs and collateral issues regarding people sneaking into places they shouldn't and then expecting to be rewarded for it.


Your other Supplicant is a light brown female humanoid's torso mounted on the body of a bronze scorpion. Her red hair is tied into a ponytail, and she's fairly well-studded with jewelry and fine silks.

"Megara of the Writhing Sands at your service, Great One. My specialty is bending mortal hearts to my will; once initiated, my pawns will gladly die for me. Unlike brute mind control, however, my servants retain their ability to function as normal people. Grant me and my cult support, and I could supply you with fanatical double agents, capable of infiltrating any organization you wish, gaining trust and acceptance for as long as necessary, and paying any price to enact my will."

Her offer is intriguing, but most likely glossing over a few noteworthy complications. For one thing, mind control is subject to the same tendencies as anything else- the better it is and the more resilient the material, the harder it is to do. That means her method probably has some obvious drawbacks somewhere, like taking a long while or only really working on people who were vulnerable to suggestion in the first place. Either of those could increase the cost or decrease the availability of agents, many of which might not be terribly high quality to begin with. Finally, creatures that can bend others to their will tend to enjoy the finer things in life, so you'd certainly be paying for some considerable overhead beyond raw agent production cost.

((Turns spoilered for length, not secrecy. Feel free to snoop in each other's business.))

[Demonic Spoon]

((Yay, got in! ))

A inaudible growl of constant annoyance at the dull real all around us churns at the back of our throats. Faded colours, overwhelming boredom. Irritably we resist the siren call of sleep, successfully navigating this event was as vital to our future survival as any battle.

Tea's offer entered our minds directly, sparing us the bother of needing to listen to and interpret the fleshy noise of the physical. Its offer caused immediate turmoil, debate raging, heads weaving and waving around lazily, subconsciously falling into a mildly hypnotic rhythm.

A communal daydream, fragile and lacking as all such are when compared to true dreams, is quickly woven together, arguments raging as all the heads join in.

-He could reduce our workload
-The best advantage we could get from this position is better materials, Tea would endanger that!
-A supplicant of one of the others has the stench of a dreamwalker about him, we may very well need warriors in the dream.
-Wanna sleep
-We need him. You all know it.

Eventually a tenuous consensus is reached. We have been granted rule over a city above. This wouldn't happen unless the city in question was facing impending ruin, the most likely cause of which is an overwhelming force of invaders. If we wanted to be king for more than a few days, we needed warriors to secure our rule. Admittedly we didn't particularly want to be king, but being granted this "honour" and then losing our position would destroy our hard built reputation, years of work lost, with most of our influence and wealth along with it. We had a collective shudder at the possibility of such large amounts of effort being lost, wasted.

Also the fact that getting dethroned usually also resulted in getting executed.

With a eerie synchronicity all the heads snapped their gazes back to Tea, a simple mental message transmitted back to him.

"We accept"

When Tia gave her own offer, we quickly felt a set of mild headaches coming on from needing to keep up with her overenthusiastic chatter. Ugh, being awake truly is hell. We almost refused her outright when we realized the great amount of labour her proposal would place on our shoulders, but wiser heads prevailed.

-We were planning to cultivate dreams anyway
-Sleeeep
-Can't trust her, we may waste more time keeping a eye on her than we'd save from her doing some "heavy lifting" for us. Not worth it.
-Since we're taking Tea, accepting her as well becomes obligatory if we want acceptable dream quality levels, we will have to make a sacrifice here for the sake of our art.
-A permanent dreamscape offers intriguing possibilities to play around with beyond simply improving dreamer quality. She is a rare and valuable asset, the sort we might never get another chance of acquiring.
-I can already tell she's going to be an absolute pleasure to work with. At least she isn't totally inadequate visually speaking. The pulsing soothes my eyes.

Visibly reluctant, one of my heads finally hisses out a reply, "Accepted"

We turn around, intending to slither off to retrieve our secretary, only to find Ethekath already silently waiting behind us. Grunting slightly in acknowledgement, we turned our full focus onto staying awake until the ritual finally completed. We were drained by all this activity, and had neither the energy nor inclination to attempt negotiation with the rest of the circling vultures.

Yet the gazes of the Demon Lords of Bloom burn hot on our feathers, and we know that we can ill afford to display any weakness before such a... comprehensive congregation of the low and mighty of Bloom. Now was sadly not the time to sleep, abhorrent as that thought was. As the seconds ticked by we became more and more frustrated, maintaining both consciousness and sanity with flagging willpower, the sheer drabness of the real like an unbearable itch that we weren't allowed to scratch.

Look at them, happy with their petty baubles. How could any of it compare? Yes, indeed, how could it...

Hopefully the ritual will activate soon...

((Am assuming that I can bring my secretary along. What are nightmare cores?))

[Harry Baldman]

They could have at least waited after he's there to start badgering him.

BUT NO. EVIDENTLY THEY COULD NOT.

"Greetings, Lord Sammacle. This one is Blackrack Otorome Melsis, Hand of the Quarter Moon. You will face much conflict in your new duties, and we would offer a solution. A squad of our finest Otome-touched suppressors could easily handle any threats you might face, and we could subsidize the cost of summoning as many common soldiers as you desired. In exchange, we ask only that the weak and foolish nobles of your new city be replaced by me and my kin."

"That's a... very kind offer," says Sammacle to the Grisell, breathing heavily from his incredible rush, making sure he's got a safe grip on his club. "I'll have to think on it - I'll... I'll invite you to the city after I've... sized up the nobles, so to speak, and then we might be able to work out a deal. We shall see. It will depend on how unwilling you are to drop all of your affairs down here, I will tell you that much."

"Sammacle! Dear, dear friend. Won't you be lonely up there? Won't you be unhappy? The people will blame you for things, Sammacle. Blame you for all sorts of things. Never fear! I am Sacarsis, and I am here to help. Simply grant me noble title and rights to the city's justice, and I will ensure that everyone everywhere knows you are not to blame, SAMMACLE. Doesn't that all sound so much smoother than you had feared?"

Sammacle stares at Sacarsis for a short moment with the disapproving glare of a seasoned accounts man and then, in a single, fluid, powerful motion brings his club diagonally down on him, hopefully striking true. If he does, he would continue striking this repulsive individual, oblivious to the rest of the world, until he is reduced to a thin multicolored smear on the ground or Sammacle himself is teleported away. This would presumably send an appropriate message to the rest of the hustler's ilk about bothering people like that.

If the rat bastard bottom-feeder manages to dodge, though, Sammacle probably chases him off with the club until he is dragged back in by the portal, still trying to end him to the best of his ability.

Make my feelings known to Sacarsis in no uncertain terms. Also express that I will consider the Grisell's offer.

[Digital Hellhound]

Maelocht dragged a hand across his face at the sight of the Vile. Of all the inhabitants of Bloom to come see him... How had she survived again? A powerful patron or some infernal trickery he'd missed? If there came a third time, he would have to make sure. Cover all the possibilities. Find out all her secrets - before or after the deed.

The sight of Golgocht disgusted him, but it paled in comparison to the revolting crudeness and simplicity of her craft. That she and her abominations were allowed to walk these streets proved the lows Bloom had fallen to. Maelocht felt the hatred bubbling up and embraced it, drawing from the Word of Venom within his tongue to add to his words.

'And why would I,' he said, hissing, 'Maelocht the Blue, want anything to do with an incompetent and butcher of good flesh such as yourself, Golgocht of the Pits? You think I would stain my future city with your malignant spawn? The wretched abominations that we are all shamed to witness in our city? The greatest miracle of all is that you have not been driven into the grey wastes long ago; I suspect it is only the pity of our ever-gracious and merciful masters that allows you to stay. Begone, empty hand! Bother me no longer! Dead crow, maggot-mind, rotten beast, peddler of sickly skin! I reject you and your offer, you mother of worms!'

Letting his breath out in a long hiss, Maelocht leaned back, satisfied. There was no harm in being unpleasant. Some of his watchers would only look upon it with favor. The wretched creature should have stayed far away from him, in any case. He wondered if he could have it killed after the ritual.

The other Supplicant was more interesting, though a pitiful creature. His offer was a worthwhile one - he would need many mortals to practice his craft.

'Very well, Master of Comforts! I accept your offer for now. Provide me with mortals, and you will be rewarded accordingly.'

He would not speak with Miku or his patrons in such a public arena, but Maelocht turned towards them and gave a short bow. Soon, he hoped, he would be beyond them, but for now it paid to be courteous.

Accept Peach's offer.

[Demonic Spoon]

((Epic smackdown there Digital Hellhound. For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice, her offer didn't seem worth the cost.))

[Digital Hellhound]

((Getting to do long, flowery insults is like, 50% of the reason I RP in general.))

[Vacio]

((Sweet, I'm in))

Vas'nox, the Father of Ill Fates, ponders for a moment trying to consider, which of the two supplicants he desires to deal services with. Having both is not an option for Vas'nox as they would be overlapping in multiple fields of potential uses. He is a bit wary of Megara as there are quite a few unknowns in the bending of mortal's will but has the possibility of having the largest benefits in the long term. Pinnacle's offer has the least amount of draw backs, the bit about information is what draws him in and it could be quite valuable to have a means of steady information (well as a cost).

"Very well, Pinnacle your offer intrigues me. I shall permit you sanction in the world above, I will be making use of your services."  replies in his ever cold voice.

"Megara of the Writhing Sands, I do not have need of your services at the present time. Nor shall I ever have need for them, there are too many complications when dealing with fanatic followers, and I do not wish to have to deal with such problems, now leave me be I have  other matters to ponder." he replies in an equally cold voice.

Vas'nox remains dead silent after speaking with the two supplicants, his robe crimson still dripping a blood Red substance that dissipates as it hits the floor.

((Can we approach others in the crowd or are the two supplicants all we interact with?))

[Demonic Spoon]

((Pretty sure you can approach others, but you have a time limit, so try to be brief.))