Invasion of Mori - IC [3.5][CE/NE][planar]

“So you have come,” comments the balor Loxakathormi. Seated atop a throne of animate flesh, its massive, fiery bulk dominates the area. It toys with its fiery whip, looking bored. “Talessera, teach them.”

A marilith with a cross expression uncoils from the right of the twitching throne and slithers forward to meet you. “You already know that we are invading a prime world called Mori. There have been recent . . . setbacks, and so the demon lord has sent you to aid our efforts.”

“Her army was annihilated,” comments the balor idly. Talessera stiffens, hands shooting to the many swords she wears on her belt, but a glance from the balor causes her to avert her eyes and release her weapons.

“Dealing with a godling was not part of our plans! Our intelligence is . . . lacking,” she admits. “And while the dread lord we serve is mighty, his legions are not endless. We must seek out some way of bolstering our ranks, whether through convincing some hapless mortals to aid us, or rallying undead to our cause.

“Funding is an issue that cannot be neglected. Even now, yugoloth mercenaries haggle over prices in our dark lord’s citadel. Precious metals, gems, and their ilk are always of use in acquiring more allies and arms, whether in the world of men or in the Abyss itself. I care not if you steal some dragon’s hoard, if you raid some mortal king, or if you plunder openly by strength of arms, so long as our stores of treasure are increased.

“A discussion of the portal is also in order. The portal opens in a backwater province of Mori called Antric. The locals call the cave where it stands the Lair of Shadows. Thus far, many so-called adventurers have managed to die coming there to seal the portal, but made little headway. The portal is guarded by the same cultists that enabled our passage, as well as their undead minions. Now that we have attracted the attention of a divine being, we must also make preparations. A more powerful force may be sent to close the portal. That must not be allowed to happen!

“Some of you have experience with the world of men. I will tell you that this Mori is not like ordinary worlds; the barriers between it and other worlds are thinner somehow. When you step through that portal, you are fully there, and a death there is as a death here. However, even in death you may continue to serve.”

Talessera gestures to a huge black cauldron nearby. “As long as your comrades retrieve your remains, you can be infused with negative energy and reborn as one of the undead. Take care to be useful before you die, though, or we shall not bother with your wretched bones. Those of you already no longer among the living will find that for a price, you can be reanimated, as long as your body is assembled.

“Now go! I tire of idling here! Go forth and bring ruin to the world of men!”

A figure steps from the back of the room, barely more than a skeleton with flesh pulled taut across its being. Clad in leather and mithral plate, he speaks, his words voice hollow.

"It shall be done Lord Loxakathormi. I will reap their souls like so much wheat."

Bowing, Hanaav turns away from the balor, moving to and through the portal.

Gabriel Sovot, male "human" bard

An elegant and extraordinarily handsome man gives Lord Loxakathormi an elegant bow. He looks a bit out of place here, entirely human, with the golden hair and eyes more associated with angelic blood. However looks, particularly here, are deceiving. His eyes and hair darken magically to a sable hue, and his golden clothes to silver-piped black velvet. Gabriel is known to some in Lord Loxakathormi's court as an excellent speaker and courtier, providing amusement to those seeking the demon lord's favor. He's know to the less fortunate as manipulative bastard whose honeyed words trap people and bind them to his heart in a powerful, twisted friendship.

However, if you're looking for someone to do some information gathering, rabble-rousing, or persuading, you could do far worse than Gabriel Sovot.

"Of course my lord. Your faithful servant fails at his peril," he says in a rich baritone, rising from his bow and glancing briefly at his erstwhile comrades.

Turning to quickly follow Gabriel, without a word of response for the powerful fiends, is a man nearly as different from the bard as could be. The tiefling named Rose has dark pink skin to match his name, but aside from coloration, he shares none of the flower's beauty. With short, shabby black hair likely cut with a knife and a well-used drab outfit, the warrior fits the place. Rose is known as an uncouth, irritating bastard, but also an extremely graceful fighter of amazing speed.

"'Faithful servant,' indeed," Rose mockingly snorts at Gabriel. The tiefling stammers a moment, as if trying to think of something cutting to say. Finding nothing, he simply blurts out, "Shut up!" though it is unclear whether he was speaking to himself or the bard.

Hanaav stops in his tracks as Rose speaks. Turning around, he watches the pair before him, eager to see how the pecking order establishes itself.

This should be interesting, Hanaav thinks to himself as his dessicated tongue rasps across his parched lips in anticipation.

From the shadows along the wall of the throne room steps an exquisite female form whose physical perfection, combined with the taloned wings that are clasped around her shoulders like some kind of organic cape, signals the presence of a true demon...albeit of a far lesser power than the other two in the room. A succubus, clad rather conservatively for one of her ilk, in a slinky suit of black-lacquered chainmail that doesnt expose her skin, but clings to her figure all the same. Scarlet waves of hair cascade from her head down her shoulders, swaying as she walks forward.

No ordinary succubus though; this one had uncommon ambition, and the talent to back it up in the throat-slitting world of the Abyss. Not content to simply corrupt and pervert, she had made a singular study of mortality and how to inflict its sting upon others. Combined with her 'natural' powers, she was an accomplished assassin.

Loriel smiles a fanged smile at the towering balor.

"My thanks for this opportunity, lord. I am sure you will not find my performance lacking."

The huge maug mercenary towers over most of the others in the group. He stands there, near a corner, seemingly uncaring, equipped with breastplate and a huge bastard sword. After a moment he walks over to the group and says in a gravelly voice "When do we leave?"

"We leave immediately, my strapping maug. The ruin of another world can hardly wait another instant! Come my friends, we shall see them set before us, willingly, unwillingly, or dead in a thousand amusing ways," Gabriel says with a charming smile, waving the others to preceed him to the portal. He stops briefly to retrieve a black haversack from a corner before continuing on. "Though I would ask that those of us with honeyed tongues and pretty faces be allowed to scout ahead, once we clear the immediate area. It may be that we can turn the town towards us and give us a stable base from which to wreak futher havoc. Loriel, would you deign to be on my arm when we enter the town? It may be that a married couple of entertainers or merchants would get a fine welcome. Perhaps you could join us as well, Zox Pox, your talents are not to be forgotten in this.

"There is no doubt there will be a time for the sword and hammer, a time for blood to flow like a river, but let us not create the need for a dam immediately, hmm?" Gabriel says smoothly.

The succubus turns her laconic smile on the bard, and her form shimmers and collapses into a shapely human woman, dressed in a gown of silver-trimmed black silk, with a velvet vest; an outfit that matches Gabriel's closely enough to have been made by the same hand. Her skin is fair, her hair dark and flowing around mysterious green eyes.

"But of course, pet," she coos in a purring tone, curling her arm through his. "And do take the lead. They will most likely expect it of my dear, dear husband. While they are occupied with you, I will inspect them for weaknesses."

After Gabriel's carrying-on, Rose turns and gapes at the bard with such a disgusted expression as to make the tiefling even more repulsive to look at than before.

"Are you going to be doing that a lot?" Rose hisses.