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[Demonic Spoon]

((I might have been premature in attacking the Empress immediately, but it seemed in character? So, sorry bout that))

[Vacio]

((I might have been premature in attacking the Empress immediately, but it seemed in character? So, sorry bout that))

((Hopefully Vas'nox shields her in time she might be a critical resource to be used.))

[Digital Hellhound]

((Nah, I don't think this is so much a cooperative game, so IC decisions are only for good. Our characters probably mind, though.))

[IronyOwl]

Intro: Bam!

Markosl roared in fury, built-up frustration finally finding a outlet. The impertinence of these mortals! Not only have we been forced by the circumstances caused by them seeking Demon Kings to leave the pleasures of the dream for whole minutes, but now these scum would think to have us submit to them?

All eleven of my heads shoot gobs of acid at the "Empress" and the one who demanded we swear fealty, hopefully melting them. If successful, the heads hiss out in unison

"You weaklings! We are your Kings! WHY AREN'T YOU KNEELING YET?!"

If not successful, wade into melee, eviscerating those who would oppose my reign.

As he is trying to recall he is looking at the Empress until he notices Markosl's heads spew acid in the direction of the Empress. Vas'nox is not sure she she should be removed just yet, so he erects a dark magical barrier around the Empress for the time being.

Acid Assassination: 1/2/0
Dark Deflection: 0/1/0

Markosl unleashes the fury of a thousand waking moments with all the restraint and poise of an acid inferno. Vas'nox attempts to shield the empress from this assault, but succeeds only in shrouding her from sight at the cost of preventing her from seeing herself either.

One of the Empress' retainers is far more adept at resolving the situation, and leaps to block the acid streams with his oblong shield. This mostly works, but deflects acid at some bystanders and forces him to discard it a moment later.

Markosl bellows and lunges towards the group, only to discover the shieldbearer has some friends. There are four in total, all armed with a spear and oblong wooden shield covered in ornate decorations. He estimates the four of them together, while not as mighty as he is, are nonetheless fully qualified to be nuisances in combat with him.

Guardians: 1/0/2
Markosl: 2/2/0

The four leap into action, jabbing at the raging hydra with cautious poking attacks. Markosl bellows and flails about, scattering them but throwing himself uncomfortably and undignifiably to the floor in the process.

"Sir..." Markosl hears Ethekath rasp from a safe distance, in his "you're making this worse trying to take the easy way out" tone.

"I... see..." Sammacle slowly says as Markosl does his thing, stepping back from him a little and maybe kicking some overly close people away irritably as he thinks.

Try to remember if the Ebon Pact was an actual document, and what it said if I have ever seen it. Apply giant palm to giant face if I never managed to read it.

The Ebon Pact, as you recall, is less of an official document and more of a series of people sharpening axes while looking at each other. It has actual words and understandings attached to it, but it's one of those very open-ended things you usually get from desperate pleas to a higher power. Specifically:

-Miraga and its people are to be sworn to Asudarai Kei Talmalach and the Six Kings. Immediate ambiguity and flexibility implying both physical ownership and worship/obedience, and an immediate source of contradiction regarding who or what they belong to if somebody disagrees with somebody else.
-The Six Kings are to protect and serve their new holdings, for themselves and Bloom. Standard nigh-meaningless "do your job" stuff.
-All are to be awarded and blessed on their merits and fate. Standard nigh-meaningless "we're a meritocracy by which we mean not everybody is getting saved so you'd better toady up to the right demon lord." Applies equally well to Miragan peasants as it does to the Kings.

Or, put another way, everyone sharpens an axe while the Miragans decide if they'd like to comply with your orders, Bloom sharpens an axe while you decide if you'd like to do your job, and your allies sharpen an axe while deciding if you're causing them problems. All the powerful people have axes, so there wasn't any need for more specific terms or binding mechanics.

Tlanextli, following Sammacle's lead, stepped away from the hydra. He felt perplexed; he did not remember any mention of a mortal and as much as he wished to question this so-called 'empress' Markosl had gone and made such an option very...difficult. He would make sure to try and locate her soul for...later questioning should time allow it.

For now though, a little show of anger should suffice.

"IMPUDENCE. It is you accursed MORTALS, you haughty creatures, that should be swearing fealty to US! An Empress who demands the aid of demons is in NO position to rule. Kneel now or PERISH."

The results are actually a little disconcerting- immediate and professional toadying. Every mortal near you promptly drops to their knees and begins assuring you of how mighty you are and confessing that they'd be incredibly useful.

Vas'nox tries to recall details of the Ebony pack in regards to swearing fealty to an Empress.

Nothing you heard about. You were supposed to be "in service" to Miraga in some capacity, but that was more of a fancy way of saying "look after your property" than "do what anyone outside Bloom says."

Phor Yevell stomps with his forelegs and shakes his elephant-head. "You seek to shackle us to your whims? Leash us to your narrow-minded morals, and bind us to your incompetent decision-making? Those very same qualities that set your city on the path to ruin? If you truly think change is attainable this way, you are deluding yourself."

You get an immediate and probably not entirely genuine chorus of toadying agreements from the mortals near you, along with a lot of pleading for favors and suggestions about how useful they are.


Most of the mortals are now either worshiping Phor Yevell or Tlanextli, or continuing to size up the situation on one heel. The royal cluster has retreated a bit, but seems to be anxiously waiting to see how the battle between the guardians and the hydra pans out.

[Demonic Spoon]

Markosl bellows and flails about, scattering them but throwing himself uncomfortably and undignifiably to the floor in the process.

((What does this mean?))

[IronyOwl]

Markosl bellows and flails about, scattering them but throwing himself uncomfortably and undignifiably to the floor in the process.

((What does this mean?))

((It means you're now flopping around on the floor like a beached fish.))

[Vacio]

((So all Vas'nox did was blind her....))

[Harry Baldman]

"Right! While the hydra fights that lot, let's talk a bit. First off, it's our Empress that you swear fealty to," explains Sammacle with an air of boredom. "Second, did you really think that would work? Third, I'd really like to get to business and all these feckin' people with their kneeling here sure aren't helping."

Sammacle attempts to discreetly, swiftly and unexpectedly grab one of the people fighting Markosl by the head (if they're still fighting him at the point when I can get to them, as Markosl seems to have given up now), lift him up from the ground at arms' reach and slowly squeeze until the stuffing comes out of the skull to relieve his own stress while he speaks, talking slightly louder if the guy starts screaming and hasn't had his skull unhinged from the spine. If this fails, he just steps back, waving any further hostilities off as if he had chosen not to bother.

Sammacle entertains brief fantasies of doing the aforementioned action, smiling as he speaks further.

"Clearly there's been some kind of misunderstanding, so let's all have a chat about what you think is gonna happen and what we think is gonna happen. Who knows! Maybe we can come to an agreement."

[Demonic Spoon]

His initial burst of rage quickly expended, and having used up his remaining energy in the brawling, Markosl tries to regain what dignity he can, and disengage from the fight. Unfortunately, several of his heads chose that moment to decide that none of the mortals in the room posed any particular threat and promptly fell asleep.

While ready to retaliate if the four fighters try to attack him, he largely ignores them and settles down onto the floor, long tail curling up into a layered circle.

-Urgh. Now I remember why we always hated combat lessons.
-This is why I hate us all being awake all at once, beyond the horribleness of being awake at all. We always end up with a excess of frustration which results in poor decision-making.
-I don't know why you guys are always so against the fish-flop maneuver, it's very combat effective!
-We were going for 'imposing demon-lord crushing the impertinent mortals' you feather-brain. Our mystique is ruined! We'll have to try and settle for 'unpredictable and therefore dangerous' now.

We glance at Estekath, glad he brought us to our senses. Good subordinates truly are invaluable. The sycophants trying to gain the favour of the other kings merited a brief amused snort in comparison.

-So it's an internal politics thing. Ugh.
-We shouldn't be surprised at high levels of factionalism I suppose.
-Power struggles. Oh joy.

One of our heads snakes out, facing one of the nearby people who don't appear to be affiliated with the 'Empress'.

"You. Attend to me. Tell me about this 'Empress' person who would think to have Demon Kings swear fealty to her"

The other heads idly observe the actions of our fellow kings while we wait for the mortal's reply, except for one who is trying to determine whether we managed to score any kills or maimings with that acid barrage.

[Knight Otu]

Phor Yevell notices the toadying. Good, and with time, it might even become genuine. There was still those guards though. Phor takes stock of their equipment. Are they quality arms as could be expected from an imperial guard, for example?

And assuming the fight is still ongoing despite Sammacle's and Markosl's actions, he trots towards the guards and growls at them. "You will cease your attacks on your kings now, before we get bored with your antics and end you."

[Vacio]

((What do #/#/# stand for exactly? Also if the dark deflection is still there he removes it.))

Vas'nox rises higher in the air until most are capable of seeing him, it is the the Father of Ill Fates. His words seem to come out from all side, as chilling as ever.

"Do you take us, The Six Demon Lords of Bloom as fools? There is only one to whom we answer to and that is my master, Asudarai Kei Talmalach, the Empress of Strength. So unless you consider this Empress Calia, Empress Asudarai Kei Talmalach's equal, I suggest you mortals choose your words more wisely. Now let us hear again, and not from one of her retainers but from the Empress herself. Who should be swearing loyalty to whom, according to the Ebon Pact? 

Afterwards he returns to his original position.

[IronyOwl]

Intro: Diplomacy

"Right! While the hydra fights that lot, let's talk a bit. First off, it's our Empress that you swear fealty to," explains Sammacle with an air of boredom. "Second, did you really think that would work? Third, I'd really like to get to business and all these feckin' people with their kneeling here sure aren't helping."

Sammacle attempts to discreetly, swiftly and unexpectedly grab one of the people fighting Markosl by the head (if they're still fighting him at the point when I can get to them, as Markosl seems to have given up now), lift him up from the ground at arms' reach and slowly squeeze until the stuffing comes out of the skull to relieve his own stress while he speaks, talking slightly louder if the guy starts screaming and hasn't had his skull unhinged from the spine. If this fails, he just steps back, waving any further hostilities off as if he had chosen not to bother.

Sammacle entertains brief fantasies of doing the aforementioned action, smiling as he speaks further.

"Clearly there's been some kind of misunderstanding, so let's all have a chat about what you think is gonna happen and what we think is gonna happen. Who knows! Maybe we can come to an agreement."

You get much the same response as the others, just with less outright toadying and more bargaining. You also get them slowly inching forward trying to outdo each other, which is beginning to hint at why they might have all been within the blast radius when you first arrived.

The content of their pleas isn't very comforting either. It seems to be the usual mix of wanting favor to crowd out rivals ("traitors," "blind fools," "those who would seek to undermine our great city/your new holdings/the natural way of things"), gain more wealth or other favors (a shocking number of well-fed nobles in fine silks and extravagant jewelry have starving families, it seems), or receive dark blessings (everything from immortality to arranging for their ascension to a god at some later date).

Some of that does involve things that might relate to the city's actual problems (something about sieges, plantations, food stores, and so forth), but what you're pretty sure you have here is a gaggle of desperate vultures.

His initial burst of rage quickly expended, and having used up his remaining energy in the brawling, Markosl tries to regain what dignity he can, and disengage from the fight. Unfortunately, several of his heads chose that moment to decide that none of the mortals in the room posed any particular threat and promptly fell asleep.

While ready to retaliate if the four fighters try to attack him, he largely ignores them and settles down onto the floor, long tail curling up into a layered circle.

-Urgh. Now I remember why we always hated combat lessons.
-This is why I hate us all being awake all at once, beyond the horribleness of being awake at all. We always end up with a excess of frustration which results in poor decision-making.
-I don't know why you guys are always so against the fish-flop maneuver, it's very combat effective!
-We were going for 'imposing demon-lord crushing the impertinent mortals' you feather-brain. Our mystique is ruined! We'll have to try and settle for 'unpredictable and therefore dangerous' now.

We glance at Estekath, glad he brought us to our senses. Good subordinates truly are invaluable. The sycophants trying to gain the favour of the other kings merited a brief amused snort in comparison.

-So it's an internal politics thing. Ugh.
-We shouldn't be surprised at high levels of factionalism I suppose.
-Power struggles. Oh joy.

One of our heads snakes out, facing one of the nearby people who don't appear to be affiliated with the 'Empress'.

"You. Attend to me. Tell me about this 'Empress' person who would think to have Demon Kings swear fealty to her"

The other heads idly observe the actions of our fellow kings while we wait for the mortal's reply, except for one who is trying to determine whether we managed to score any kills or maimings with that acid barrage.

The guardians draw back momentarily, glancing to the Empress for instructions. She's being rapidly whispered at from at least three separate people, and doesn't give any immediate orders. They hop back further, seemingly shifting back to guarding that cluster.

The individual you pick out is a middle aged or slightly elderly man on the hefty side, who seems more than enthusiastic to toady to you specifically.

"Oh yes your majesty! Quite an impressive display of savagery! Why I-"

He catches your glare and wisely decides to get on with it.

"T-that is, the Empress, she... she means well, oh mighty one! It's simply that her advisors, you know. Vile lot, leading her astray! I'm sure if you found a more worthy individual to take their place, she'd very quickly see your magnificence and grant you any demand you might have!"

You didn't score any kills as far as you can tell, but there's a few woundings. Mostly from the shield spatter, but your indiscriminate barrage did wing a few of the Empress' sycophants.

Phor Yevell notices the toadying. Good, and with time, it might even become genuine. There was still those guards though. Phor takes stock of their equipment. Are they quality arms as could be expected from an imperial guard, for example?

And assuming the fight is still ongoing despite Sammacle's and Markosl's actions, he trots towards the guards and growls at them. "You will cease your attacks on your kings now, before we get bored with your antics and end you."

Their gear is... strange. It's definitely quality, but the materials are oddly base. Too good for goons, not good enough for imperial guards; possibly a monastic order following ascetic tenets, but their fighting style looks like zealot-soldier conviction, not philosophical poise.

You'd almost guess they just didn't have anything better, but that raises all sorts of other questions.

The fight is... paused, at least, between Markosl and the guards, so you don't bother breaking it up further.

((What do #/#/# stand for exactly? Also if the dark deflection is still there he removes it.))

Vas'nox rises higher in the air until most are capable of seeing him, it is the the Father of Ill Fates. His words seem to come out from all side, as chilling as ever.

"Do you take us, The Six Demon Lords of Bloom as fools? There is only one to whom we answer to and that is my master, Asudarai Kei Talmalach, the Empress of Strength. So unless you consider this Empress Calia, Empress Asudarai Kei Talmalach's equal, I suggest you mortals choose your words more wisely. Now let us hear again, and not from one of her retainers but from the Empress herself. Who should be swearing loyalty to whom, according to the Ebon Pact? 

Afterwards he returns to his original position.

This seems to exacerbate the Empress' attendant whispering, and there are several long moments of silence from her as several people whisper-shout angrily at her and each other.

Finally, she begins to speak in a loud, clear, regal voice.

"As you can see, your ilk are of many minds, not all of them noble. In order to protect your communal assets from the depredations of any of your companions, it is necessary that you should swear allegiance to me and my wise advisors, that no one rogue impulse might ruin what is rightfully yours. Surely beings such as yourselves should have no qualms about humoring the tenders of your new realm."

[Demonic Spoon]

"As you can see, your ilk are of many minds, not all of them noble.

"Is that directed me? I'm pretty sure that's directed at me. You should learn respect for your betters."

One of the heads almost apathetically shoots another singular ball of acid at the advisers of the 'Empress'.

In order to protect your communal assets from the depredations of any of your companions, it is necessary that you should swear allegiance to me and my wise advisors, that no one rogue impulse might ruin what is rightfully yours. Surely beings such as yourselves should have no qualms about humoring the tenders of your new realm."

"So to protect our assets, we should give them up?"

The heads chuckle slightly.

"No, I don't believe this arrangement is in our best interests."

-Although, it would be nice to find some shmuck to smear all the hard work off on.
-Forget it. She, or rather her advisers, are obviously trying to screw us over. This is a trap. A very obvious trap.

Another two heads fall into slumber, leaving only three awake.

One of the heads asks our sycophant the size and composition of the armies sieging Miraga. And learn his name we suppose.

[Harry Baldman]

"Hm," Sammacle says, then turns to his peers. "Anybody think it'd be way more efficient if we just had one of them talking to us? This chorus business is getting really annoying."

[Demonic Spoon]

"It'd be desirable, but seems impossible. They're riven by internal divides and seem to be vying for our favour. There is no single individual who can function as a representative to negotiate with, and they'd never nominate such a individual themselves in any case with the situation as it stands."

((Cue ravening horde of boot-lickers who try to be the one to act as the representative))