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[spümpkin]

Kumo's eyes pop so hard that it's a wonder they remain in her skull.

"Y...You can hear him? Woah... A-Are you made of Life Fibers?"

The scarf on Obake simiarly pops. "W-What? She can hear me?"

[Chevaleresse]

Nobunaga watched the interaction between the two with interest, mumbling something about a brainwave-interpretation device half-consciously.

[IamanElfCollaborator]

Yes, I can hear you.
Ophelia's voice seems to carry itself into Kumo and Obake's minds, without Ophelia having spoken herself.

[IamanElfCollaborator]

Champions may no longer interact until given permission to.
Discord's Fortress
As you stand in the dark stone halls, the frightening visage of Discord's fiery body painted on the floor beneath you, facing the black, spiked iron gate that enters into the realm of Discord, you Fiends know your purpose here.

The being called Discord has summoned you, to fight in a war far beyond your own lands, to slay the being called Harmony. They say it is to prevent her from imposing an artificial order upon all things, or perhaps to preserve the chaos of all things, to prevent the stagnation and decay of all that exists. You may have your own reasons to fight, of course; perhaps you truly agree with the cause, or perhaps you simply wish to oppose those who would oppose you. It matters not; Discord desires only your cooperation, not your ideology. He demands no tribute save the defeat of her Champions and asks no goal save for the fall of Harmony.

What is curious is that none of you have seen the face of Discord, except the one called Thiyr, the sole Fiend who Discord permits through the doors, the one who told you all this and the man who walks out from the closing gates before you.

Thiyr stands taller than most mortal men or indeed mortals at all, a head of long brown hair and a short beard lending the image more of a shepherd than an emperor, clad in simple, yet effective armour, hues of silver and blue throughout. The blue fur-rimmed cape and brooch of two crossed axes over a stylised moon holding a sash across his chest are the only concessions the man makes to luxury. His sword, never yet seen drawn, hangs in a scabbard on his belt. Thiyr seems non-plussed by it, but any of you who draw near feel as if your lives are being slowly drained away simply by standing near it. More intense are his shockingly blue eyes, exuding an aura of authority and peering out like ice from his head. All around him, he exudes an aura of dominance, as if you stand in the presence of a calm god, waiting for his fury to be unleashed.

As he speaks, his voice is deep, yet soft, akin more to a preacher or an orator than the emperor he claims to be.
"You who share the cup of power, Discord has called upon me to convey a mission unto you."
All active Fiends (all approved Fiends) may speak.

[Chevaleresse]

"Unit prepared to receive instructions." The monotone voice echoed with the distinctive cadence of an artificial one. Its owner, in contrast to Thiyr, stood at a height somewhat below the average, but still seemed to radiate a faint aura of menace - one enhanced by the massive sword-like object hovering behind them. The man almost looked like an albino, with pale pink, nearly white, hair and red eyes. Similar to Thiyr, though, the outfit he wore was largely practical; a dull silver jumpsuit, covering from his neck to just above his thighs, with his only other garment being a green, black-edged, white-striped cloak divided into three parts.

[Yottawhat]

A creature stands a distance away from Thiyr. A skeletal looking thing made out of what seems to be glass covered in arms placed in a irregular pattern, it legs end in large blades while each arm is tipped with a claw ending in three more blades, each the size of a cleaver or a small sword. It has head, just more glass-like shards emerging from it neck would be, all pointing to a narrow hole recessed inside the neck.

The glass fragments begin to shift, producing the horrific sound of a hundreds of glass shards being raked together in the tone of a human voice.

"WHEN. WE. LEAVE."

[Sl4cker]

"Oh, is that so?" An old, raspy, and yet kind sounding voice sounds from a figure standing to the side. The voice may as well have belonged to a retired old grandfather, seeped with wisdom. And yet, the figure it comes from stands out in its darkness, even amongst the shadows of the stone halls. It seems to take the shape of a cloaked and hooded humanoid, standing, slouching with rotten-looking, skeletal hands clasped together in front of it.

The cloak's folds are impossible to make out, no shadows being able to be seen on it, for the fabric seems to already be colored the darkest of colors possible. Where a head would pop out on the cloak on a normal human, there are only two dots and a hollow circle glowing purple in an inverted triangle formation, as if to suggest the image of a face.

"Please tell us, young man, what Discord said."

[DragonRage]

"Yeah.  Spit it out.  What do we have to do to cash in?" A huge, grey-skinned man asks from his chosen corner of the room.  He is easily eight feet tall, but with a lithe, runner's build, covered in blackened mail.  The equally massive warbow slung over his shoulder both steals the show and lights up his formerly dark corner, as it blazes with fire without consuming anything.  He swings a cold gaze over the other fiends as he speaks, as though he's gauging the best place to plant an arrow if somebody charges.  "I've got things to do back home with this new power.  Sooner we get this job done, and done right, the sooner I can get back to important matters."  Despite the jutting tusks in his mouth, his speech is clear and unaccented.  "Also, as long as we're asking questions, what's the plunder going to look like?  Gotta keep the horde motivated somehow, and fighting for balance isn't gonna cut it."

[IamanElfCollaborator]

Thiyr remains calm as the tall tusked man approaches him. Thiyr is a tall human, but even his armour and massive height is somewhat dwarfed by this orc.
"All in good time. Your flock will take what is owed to them when our mission is complete. However, if you would like an advance on it, there is something you can do for me.

There is a weapon within some ruins, a weapon from the wars before our arrival. A small orb, capable of clairvoyance and bombardment with magical energy of any area it is set to see. Discord would like this weapon retrieved for the cause. I will personally reward you greatly if you succeed. How soon can you and your men be ready?"

[Gary_S_Modd]

*Clears Throat* Darth Zofan peered out of the darkness; her 5'8" silhouette being exactly symmetrical. She steps out of the shadows, now putting her hands on her hips. Her outfit is completely black with the exception to the red and gold accents; most of which are two parallel lines of the exact same length and all of them mirrored across the center of her body. Her skin is a unsaturated pink-purple color, contrasting nicely with her purple hair. Her hair, is done up in a way that makes it exactly symmetrical across the center of her body "Well... it depends on what you are paying with... I have no use for currency in a place like this..."

[OceanSoul]

"In all honesty, I've been WAITING for a chance to fight." The voice comes from the edge of the room, and while no-one's sees him directly yet, out of the corner of one's eye, they would see the glistening of an odd blade, as well as dark clothing, some of which is fur. It's clearly not attached to him, but there's a feeling that he has a wilder, angry side to him. He gives off that feeling in general, a constant anger, always to some degree or another.

"Then again, who says we can't practice a little conflict now? Helps us know each other a little more in case we... Y'know I have another question for Dischord here- what would you do if one of us went rogue? Turncoat? Will your influence over us even allow such a thing? ...not that there's a reason for me. I have quite a lot to gain from our ultimate success. You know our deal."

((How does my Fiend's kingdom sound as a reward for his cooperation, Iaman?))

[Chevaleresse]

"Practice combat deemed unnecessary. Potential damage to allied forces in excess of projected benefits. Units found to be disobedient will be decommissioned forcibly." The robotic(?) man seems to shiver almost imperceptibly at the last line, but soon returns to nigh-absolute motionlessness.

[Yottawhat]

WHEN. LEAVE. The glass beast shrieked.

[Sl4cker]

"Now now, everyone. Let us all settle down. How many of us should go after this orb, young man?" The cloaked figure rasps, as its purple "mouth" morphs into an upwards curve, denoting a cartoonish smiley face.

[DragonRage]

"Dungeon crawl?  Artifact retrieval?  Ancient ruins?  Shouldn't be a problem, unless there's some kinda magical landmine sealed in there," The orcish man states, "And the horde will love a chance to loot the place.  Even if there ain't anything else valuable in there, the thought that there might be will keep 'em happy.  Just point me in the right direction.  We'll clear the place out, and get the orb.  I make no promises how much will be left afterwards."