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Aphonion: Journals of a Licensed Diabolist (Sat. and Wed. updates, last 9/3, 9/10)
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<blockquote data-quote="Cerebral Paladin" data-source="post: 4187771" data-attributes="member: 3448"><p>One of the Hastur made an announcement at the breakfast. “Honored lords, ladies, guests, and friends, we are pleased to announce the failure of a raid intended to capture the clingfire currently en route from the capital to the towers. The Chaos Champion is currently falling back, though not in open flight. Our forces are remaining set in case this is a feint.”</p><p></p><p>The other Keeper, who we were now becoming familiar with, spoke gently to Lord Varlin. “Do you wish to meet your distant cousin this morning?”</p><p></p><p>He looked at her suspiciously. “You do not intend to kill me and consume my brain, do you?”</p><p></p><p>“No. The thought had not crossed my mind. In fact, I hope that no matter how senile I get, that thought will never cross my mind.” A worthy sentiment on her part, but another acknowledgment of the chaos that overtakes the Hastur’s minds over time.</p><p></p><p>“I do not understand you,” he replied.</p><p></p><p>“That is acceptable. Understanding takes time.”</p><p></p><p>“Then I will meet my cousin.”</p><p></p><p>“It will be like a family reunion,” commented Buzz.</p><p></p><p>“Then who will die?” asked Lord Varlin.</p><p></p><p>“Does that always happen at family reunions?” she asked.</p><p></p><p>“I have only been to two. Both were arranged so that someone would be killed.”</p><p></p><p>Buzz had no reply that could assuage Lord Varlin’s fears. A few minutes later, the winged figure reappeared. Lord Varlin and the celestial talked-- this time Lord Varlin, while clearly frightened and awed, did not suffer a collapse. We withdrew to our day’s duties as they continued their discussions.</p><p></p><p>Before implementing our plan with the phylactery, we attended to some routine business. We sold approximately half of the dragon organs we had recovered. Due to the limited nature of the market in which we sold them, we were only able to get 350 silver. We kept the other half, which I estimated as enough to summon three black abishai. Spring asked for the materials to summon one, and I was allocated enough to summon two. Because Spring had raised the possibility that he would begin engaging in diabolism in the future, I stressed the fact that he would need to apply for a license from the Church. He promised that he would secure a license before any summoning. While we dealt with the magical supplies, Sideh took the dragon scales he had harvested to a skilled leatherworker, who promised to make him a fine suit of armor.</p><p></p><p>With those matters dealt with, we returned to where we had seen the quasi-lich. We drafted a missive on a scrap of parchment, carried it forward to the Shadowline, and threw it across the line, taking care to not touch the Line itself for the sake of keeping our identity vague (and to remain beyond the quasi-lich’s power).</p><p></p><p>Our first message read, “We have your master’s phylactery. We want to negotiate.”</p><p></p><p>By this point, the quasi-lich had a small army of little demons and minor undead with it. One of the minor demons, a manes, crept up, picked up the letter, and carried it to the quasi-lich. The quasi-lich took out a black stone, concentrated, and then wrote back. The manes carried the quasi-lich’s message back to the Shadowline and carefully pushed it across using only one toe.</p><p></p><p>“We are also willing to negotiate. What do you wish from the great and mighty Lord Drakhl?’</p><p></p><p>“We wish to replace Lord Bastion. We wish Lord Drakhl to eliminate him for us, while keeping his manor relatively intact.”</p><p></p><p>The quasi-lich paused a long time, concentrating on its black stone, before sending back the next message across. “Lord Bastion is a weakling, worthless for the defense of our land. You are clever. You will do better with his minions. What guarantee can you offer that you will not continue to hold the phylactery over Lord Drakhl to blackmail him in perpetuity?”</p><p></p><p>Buzz took out a white pebble and stared at it. While we feigned communication with some absent master, we discussed our next response.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Cerebral Paladin, post: 4187771, member: 3448"] One of the Hastur made an announcement at the breakfast. “Honored lords, ladies, guests, and friends, we are pleased to announce the failure of a raid intended to capture the clingfire currently en route from the capital to the towers. The Chaos Champion is currently falling back, though not in open flight. Our forces are remaining set in case this is a feint.” The other Keeper, who we were now becoming familiar with, spoke gently to Lord Varlin. “Do you wish to meet your distant cousin this morning?” He looked at her suspiciously. “You do not intend to kill me and consume my brain, do you?” “No. The thought had not crossed my mind. In fact, I hope that no matter how senile I get, that thought will never cross my mind.” A worthy sentiment on her part, but another acknowledgment of the chaos that overtakes the Hastur’s minds over time. “I do not understand you,” he replied. “That is acceptable. Understanding takes time.” “Then I will meet my cousin.” “It will be like a family reunion,” commented Buzz. “Then who will die?” asked Lord Varlin. “Does that always happen at family reunions?” she asked. “I have only been to two. Both were arranged so that someone would be killed.” Buzz had no reply that could assuage Lord Varlin’s fears. A few minutes later, the winged figure reappeared. Lord Varlin and the celestial talked-- this time Lord Varlin, while clearly frightened and awed, did not suffer a collapse. We withdrew to our day’s duties as they continued their discussions. Before implementing our plan with the phylactery, we attended to some routine business. We sold approximately half of the dragon organs we had recovered. Due to the limited nature of the market in which we sold them, we were only able to get 350 silver. We kept the other half, which I estimated as enough to summon three black abishai. Spring asked for the materials to summon one, and I was allocated enough to summon two. Because Spring had raised the possibility that he would begin engaging in diabolism in the future, I stressed the fact that he would need to apply for a license from the Church. He promised that he would secure a license before any summoning. While we dealt with the magical supplies, Sideh took the dragon scales he had harvested to a skilled leatherworker, who promised to make him a fine suit of armor. With those matters dealt with, we returned to where we had seen the quasi-lich. We drafted a missive on a scrap of parchment, carried it forward to the Shadowline, and threw it across the line, taking care to not touch the Line itself for the sake of keeping our identity vague (and to remain beyond the quasi-lich’s power). Our first message read, “We have your master’s phylactery. We want to negotiate.” By this point, the quasi-lich had a small army of little demons and minor undead with it. One of the minor demons, a manes, crept up, picked up the letter, and carried it to the quasi-lich. The quasi-lich took out a black stone, concentrated, and then wrote back. The manes carried the quasi-lich’s message back to the Shadowline and carefully pushed it across using only one toe. “We are also willing to negotiate. What do you wish from the great and mighty Lord Drakhl?’ “We wish to replace Lord Bastion. We wish Lord Drakhl to eliminate him for us, while keeping his manor relatively intact.” The quasi-lich paused a long time, concentrating on its black stone, before sending back the next message across. “Lord Bastion is a weakling, worthless for the defense of our land. You are clever. You will do better with his minions. What guarantee can you offer that you will not continue to hold the phylactery over Lord Drakhl to blackmail him in perpetuity?” Buzz took out a white pebble and stared at it. While we feigned communication with some absent master, we discussed our next response. [/QUOTE]
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