Intro: That's Cold"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'.
"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."
One of the guards predictably blocks the shot. They don't look very happy.
"I mean no disrespect, but if you continue to damage your own property, you will be the poorer for it."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.
He smiles apologetically.
"It's... it's complicated, your majesty. There are four armies, four foul armies of darkness seeking to bring down our mighty city. Each is more terrible than the last, and I fear I couldn't describe their proper features. Surely, ah, you could... deal with them shortly? Even without knowing all the tawdry details?"You are familiar enough with your combat prowess to know you could defeat a very small army on your own. A large one is right out, and once you start throwing in champions or other exceptional individuals, all bets are off. As demonstrated by the fact that four goons are sufficient to pose an obstacle.
"I am Carcio Kanava, your grace! Ah... unless you'd rather call me something different, of course...!"Maelocht turned and faced the Empress, his carved tongue slipping out of his mouth as if tasting the air. He smiled even wider. 'Come now, little empress. You know as well as we do that our 'humoring' your whims would be just that - nothing binding, nothing real. We could end such an agreement in a heartbeat. This empty spectacle serves only one purpose! You seek to impress these people to retain your throne. My sweet, worry not about such things. Illusions of power and authority are for a mortal age. An age that is now at an end.'
He stepped closer, staring into the Empress' eyes. 'I can protect you, from my less reasonable kin. I offer you a choice that will let you keep your wealth and your place. That will make history remember you as a wise and prudent ruler, an empress who sacrificed a little pride to save her city. Forget the poisonous words of those around you, words of the petty and short-sighted. Accept my protection, step aside, and let us be done with this foolishness. Let us save your city.'
((EDIT: Empress, not queen. *cough*))
You're not really a people person, not in that way anyway, but you still see her sort of... sway, a little bit. More noticeably, her advisors
panic. Given that virtually every word out of your fellows' mouth has elicited a more animated response than the last, this is rather noteworthy, with one even going so far as to violently shake her shoulder while whisper-screaming at her. It's a curious sight.
After a very long pause, she finally speaks.
"I thank you for your kindness..."More whisper-screaming and another long pause.
"...but I cannot give up my throne."You somewhat expect her to continue, but she doesn't. Her advisors continue seething at each other.
"Hrmpf" Phor Yevell expresses at no one in particular, then motions towards one of the guards. "You there. Come closer. What is your combat training and your unit's normal task? Where is your gear from, and do you have access to better materials or craftsmen?"
The guard simply grimaces at you, but the Empress offers a quiet
"Please do as he says."The guard approaches, still glowering at you.
"Mivak Tar, Holy Shield of the Empress. We protect her majesty and those she holds dear with our lives. We have trained in the Caverns of Woe, drunk the Waters of Memory, and scaled the Steps of Heaven. Our arms are of no concern, but blessed by the Tongues of Fire nonetheless."Analysing the situation, Tlanextli grabbed a prostrating noble and quietly asked a question. "Which of the Empress' advisors put her up to this foolish idea of making us swear servitude?"
The noblewoman pales slightly, glancing back at someone she was kneeling next to. That one doesn't seem to have any answers either, just staring at the situation wide-eyed.
"It's... not really... th-the traitors...?"You get the feeling she wasn't ready for this.
One our the heads gestures vaguely in the direction of the Empress while another just smiles innocently back at Maelocht as if to say 'who, me?'. The third focuses on the flunky we've snagged, questioning him.
"Does she have a name by the way?"
"Empress Calia the River, your majesty!"Considering Sammacle's repeated musing on whether to either kill most of the people in the room, or have them fight in deathmatches, Markosl thinks it prudent to check whether any of them are trying to escape the chamber yet.
Between Sammacle's and Tlanextli's suggestions, several people do break into a run. Most of the rest make a point of explaining how they have nothing to do with those ones, until Sammacle's other decree shuts them up.
Sammacle for the first time in a while turns to the other people in the room with an appeal.
"Now, it may seem that my repeated suggestions to brutally murder you all in the name of some form of greater plot imply an otherwise unresolvable level of contempt. That's really the wrong impression. I just hate sycophantic appeals to one's better nature, and you lot haven't really brought anything else to the table. Nothing personal, really. In fact, now's your chance to shine and prove my assessment of you wrong! Anybody who can add something to our discussion, raise your hands and we'll go through your suggestions one by one. Don't say a word before you are called, or you will be immediately brutally murdered. Let's get some orderly mortal opinions and facts in here. Oh, and each of you (who has something to actually say, I'll remind you) gets fifty words to express yourselves. Try to make them good, hold the flattery, toadying, begging and pleasantries, and try not to go over the limit. And hey, if you are very informative and useful, you might have a nice place in the new regime, whatever we decide that to be. We accept critiques, advice and relevant acts. With how long and loudly I've been speaking, you've surely had enough time to ruminate on my ideas."
Set down some procedure for these mortals and begin the questioning, picking people who've raised their hands (if there's several) at random. Make good on promises of brutal murder of offenders if the procedure is violated. Disrespect, naturally, is completely tolerated, as well as all other forms of free speech.
Very nearly every remaining hand in the room shoots up immediately. Of those that remain, the rest- mostly guards, you think- raise their hands a moment later at the behest of whoever you assume they're guarding.
You begin to point at very specific individuals at random.
"THE CACI WILL MURDER US ALL! They're hateful, vile creatures, they'll flay us alive if you don't stop them! The wall's holding, but how long, HOW LONG?! Uh... that's... that's all...""The city is riven by greed and corruption, nobody agrees with anybody else, we have eight months food and agreed not to tell you about the other thing, and each of the four armies sieging us contains differing skillsets and goals.""The situation is quite dire, your lordship. We need food and clothing and what have you just as well as military aid; the city's not been truly prosperous in quite some time."They seem to be conservative about the fifty-word thing, which is good. Though it's probably harder to count them while suddenly being given a chance to be useful by one of the demon lords wavering between murdering the entire room or granting you power for your performance.