The ice grew another few centimeters, consuming and erasing the latest attempt at a runework solution etched into the surface. Not that it mattered. Marna stared out through the wall of frost, barely aware of her surroundings through the transparent prison walls.
"Marna, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. Nothing we have at our disposal is working."
Beard. Sad eyes. Her father. Well of course nothing was working. The silver dragon Artemis had tried to imprison her in sanctified ice. Hah! Even now the ice grew and grew, spilling out in waves to fill an entire warehouse! HER POWER COULD NOT BE CONTAINED!
"There are runes we modified. Designed for the Lightless Flame. Not hellfire. They've only delayed the spread. Arthur likely knew more but..."
Was he crying? Why? They had said she was sick or some nonsense. Her father's old master had hit her with some specific type of hellfire meant to corrupt souls to... something. But obviously she was too powerful for that to work. And Artemis had overreacted. Yes, that was it. Such was the nature of fools to fear greatness! A shame. Unless they let her out there would be no one strong enough to stop him. He might use the pride fire again against her-
Oh. Pride. She was being corrupted by pride. And eventually, it was going to kill her. It was going to utterly corrupt and then destroy her soul.
She was going to die.
Hah. It was going to try at least! Riva's pathetic little students had come by, attempting to bind the affliction. Barely slowed it down. Really, as if Nico of all people could stop an illness serious enough to kill Marna Blake the Firebrand! Knight of Ithacar!
"I'm sorry Marna. I've failed you again."
Anger. Pity. Love. For the briefest of moments these feelings overwhelm the haze of ice and flame that consumes her every thought. Yes, he had failed her. Left her alone as a baby. But they were past that now. At least mostly. Her decisions were her own. She'd fought Arthur Black of her own free will and they were winning. At least, until the end there. And he would take all that glory and reduce it to self-blame? Belial had done enough wrong in his life to not need to blame himself for things he couldn't control.
Marna wanted to slap him. She wanted to hug him and say it wasn't his fault. She wanted to say she forgave him for the past. For the years she'd spent alone. Some part of her knew it wasn't entirely true. That she still blamed the old man in some ways and always would. But she loved him enough to want to say it anyway. Just to make him hurt a little less.
Marna tried to reach out to her father through the sanctified prison and, in spite of her best efforts found the ice quite immovable.
Of course it was. Nothing but the strongest of prisons could contain THE Marna Blake. Mightiest warrior in th-
I take my hand away from the wall of ice before it expands again, almost trapping my glove with it. The sum of all our resources and all we could do was slow it down.
There's something in my dsughter's eyes. They haven't moved once but that feral intensity I know all too well bores into me as I meet her frozen gaze.
"You're right. Self-pity is unbecoming."
I wipe my eyes and straighten up as best I can manage. This is no time to give up. Not with Marna's life on the line.
"If we don't have a solution, perhaps someone else does."
Reaching into my pocket, I find a glass eye, plucked from the skull of a long-dead fire giant. My orb. Time to make an announcement.
"Attention, all channels. This is Belial Blake, Praetor of Ithacar. To anyone who can hear me, if you have skills in the infernal arts and the magics of the soul, I'm willing to make a deal. Name your price."
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u/Ares378Ith'RaalâArchdevil of Memories, Evil Councillor, Lord of the 7th26d ago
Somewhere within the building, a candle tips over, spilling molten wax upon the ground. As the fire grows, the hue slowly shifts from orange, to red, before finally landing on a deep shade of purple.
"Greetings, Belial..." Ith'Raal says, stepping out of the fire. "I'm sorry to hear what has happened to your daughter... I'm sure this is a very hard time for you. She's being consumed by the flame of Pride, yes? Such a pesky sin... An insidious killer. I do believe I may have the skills to rid her of this blight, but... with your track record, I'm hesitant to make any kinds of deals with you..."
He lets himself trail off intentionally. He wantsyouto change his mind.
Of course, and now the vultures come calling. Inevitable. The infernal wretches mask of sympathy is only that skin-deep. But I play along with the charade.
"You owe me one unconditional favor. And three graces besides if I'm remembering correctly. If I have an my scepticism, it's in if you're actually capable of curing Marna's affliction. It's of the soul, not the mind. And one of Pride, not Violence."
Ironically apropriate I think, to target the sniveling wretch's pride in these circumstances.
"Tell me, before I allow you to work your way out of my debt, what precisely do you intend to do to my daughter?"
Eyes behind ice regard the fiend closely. Is that Ith? She always liked the funny little guy. Unfortunately for the devil, someone else is advocating on her behalf.
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u/Ares378Ith'RaalâArchdevil of Memories, Evil Councillor, Lord of the 7th26d ago
The truth is, Ith dislikes pride with as much passion as a nigh-robotic hyper-pragmatic archfiend can physically dislike something.
"It's an affliction of the soul, yes... but Pride is a product of the mind. And if I was a being of Pride, I'd want Pride to consume your daughter's soul. However... I believe Pride is counterproductive and inefficient. My intention is to allow her to undergo true ego death, reminding her of our collective insignificance in this universe. Do you believe that would extinguish the flame..?"
"Hey Ith! Did you know I'm conscious in here? Crazy right? What's up?"
The pride fire rushes along the connection, straight for Ith'Raal's soul. The sin fires have a lesser effect on the infernal. Can't burn down a house that's already ash. But this will be unpleasant.
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u/Ares378Ith'RaalâArchdevil of Memories, Evil Councillor, Lord of the 7th26d ago
Ith takes a deep breath.
Pride is worthless. Pride is counterproductive. Pride is inefficient. Ith is no greater than any other being. Ith is simply another consciousness amongst billions. Pride is nothing. Ith is nothing. He is not special. He's only where he is today out of sheer luck.
"That is certainly interesting, Marna... I'm here to help at the behest of your father. I have a plan that may just work, but... I need you to trust me. Just this once. Will you let me have more control over your mind..?"
Ith is not alone with Marna in her mind. There is a familiar, crotchety presence there too, splitting her attention and making things just that little bit easier.
Wow. That was easy. Oh right. Pride is the #1 killer of all warlocks. Hell is brimming with the souls of those that insisted they were "built different." Still, that was SHOCKINGLY fast. This affliction must be very far along.
Kardonk is already here. And he is glaring at IthâRaal.
âIf you seek to t-turn this to your own advantageâŠâ
âIf you dont trust Blake, th-then let me offer the collateral on this one. Y-you trust your friendâŠright?â
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u/Ares378Ith'RaalâArchdevil of Memories, Evil Councillor, Lord of the 7th26d ago
Ith looks to Kardonk and smiles, ignoring the scowl on his face.
"The only 'advantage' I seek to gain here is Blake spending a grace or that favor. Otherwise... I charge nothing. Consider this a token of good faith..."
âI-I dont trust devils on principle its part of my training.â
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u/Ares378Ith'RaalâArchdevil of Memories, Evil Councillor, Lord of the 7th26d ago
"What training? Have you ever considered that whoever trained you may be, I don't know... Biased? Because disliking an entire subset of sentient beings on principle doesn't exactly seem moral."
âTh-the Librarian always said that Infernal b-beings are rhetorical way they are not by chance o-or nature, but by choice and action. Its not that I-infernal nature causes one to be evil, but that e-evil people end up being Infernalsâ
âAlso, I-I dislike dragons to, s-so its not like I am singling you out or anything.â
u/Ares378Ith'RaalâArchdevil of Memories, Evil Councillor, Lord of the 7th26d ago
"The Librarian isn't incorrect. Infernals become infernals because the choices they make in life. In one way or another, they succumb to sin... For many it could be Greed, as they slowly burn their self away in the pursuit of riches that only hold meaning within their mortal life... For others it could be Pride, fueling their own ego until there's nothing left to burn.
"However... Every fiend's sins are different, in the same way that every mortal's personality is unique. They are all evil creatures, yes, but it's a limiting worldview to discredit all infernals for that fact. Many fiend's sins don't involve untrustworthiness...
"I was damned to hell for Violence against others, Violence against the mind, and Violence against god and nature. The things I've done are revolting and abhorrent, as I'm sure you well know. I will never be absolved because I don't feel a shred of regret or shame for my actions.
"But... Nothing of what I did involved Wrath. I wasn't hateful or angry... Nor was I prideful, greedy, envious... I simply wanted to learn, to preserve my safety, and to enjoy my life for as long as I could. I do not seek revenge, nor do I seek to trick people without reason.
"I hold no anger toward you or Blake. I believe we could be great allies, in fact. But... understandably, I believe you both take issue with my... pastimes."
A stranger shrouded in a dark traveling cloak strides through Ithacar's streets with imperious haste, followed a few steps behind by a knight clad in an extravagantly gleaming armour.
"You look ridiculous under that shining bucket. Couldn't you stick to your usual colour palette?"
Her harsh tone cannot truly hide the underlying fondness for her companion. A feeling not completely hers, but inherited from another.
Noticing her destination ahead, the stranger removes her cowl with a single elegant motion, revealing long blond hair and weary eyes. Her features are almost hawkish in their sharpness. Without breaking her stride, she addresses the guards standing outside the warehouse with a commanding voice.
"Tell the Praetor that the Warlock of the Lightless Flame demands an audience."
Skeptical. It's known to all in Ithacar the threat the Lightless Flame poses. They know that Arthur Black wields it. But the internal politics of the Order are not something the gate guard is privy to.
"You know what miss? Above my pay grade. You strike me as one of the folks called in to help cure the Firebrand, and she owes me 30 drachmae. I'll take you where you want to go."
Mages. Mad as stranded sailors, the lot of them. But while Marna was seen as a bit of a troublemaker by the city guard, she had another reputation. Blade of the people. Defender of Ithacar. And so the gate guard gestures for one of his fellows to relieve his post and leads the stranger to the docks at a swift pace. Both in the interest of parting company with a strange conjurer as quickly as possible, and out of a genuine eagerness to save the Firebrand.
"So you traffic in the same black arts as the Lord Praetor then? Risky stuff I hear."
It's a lengthe journey across the city. Rock doves scatter from the tracks as the spectral train carries the guard and his escort dockside. They travel to where the security is thickest, and for good reason. Towering figures lurk here. A horned one-eyed devil. The grey-skinned Guardian of the Astral Realms. And one figure in armor wrought of steel and bone. A smile of malice that never seems to reach his eyes that glimmer with green corpse-fire. The guards regard him in particular with terror and rage as he looms over them, a head and a half taller than the largest among them.
"Oh shit. Hope the Praetor isn't fool enough to take a deal from that monster."
No compromise with the Nephilim. Might as well be Ithacar's national motto. But the guard steels himself and escorts the woman into the warehouse.
"Lord Praetor! This woman says she's an associate of yours? Something about the Lightless Flame."
The room is enormous. An entire shipping warehouse cleared out with a rectangular block of ice in the center, the shape distorted as waves of rolling ice spill out from it, tendrils of frost stretching to reach the edges of the room. The guard steps carefully over the criss-crossing web of sanctified ice as his breath fogs before him and approaches a red-robed bearded man sitting on a wooden stool at the heart of the frozen maze.
"Lightless Flame?"
The words are enough to break my trance and I turn to face our visitor.
"That's highly unlikely."
Arcane fire blossoms in the palm of my hand.
"Unless you learned it in the service of Arthur Black. Speak, pretender. And choose your words very carefully."
With a stern and unamused gaze the woman scans the warehouse and its guests. Her jaw clenches with quiet rage as the guard clumsily fumbles through the announcement of her arrival, but with a faint sigh she manages to maintain her stoic façade.
Her eyes fall on the Praetor, carefully studying him with predatory wariness, seemingly unfazed by his hostility. And yet with every word he utters, her inscrutable expression turns into a mask of pure hate.
"Hush, Praetor." The word reverberates with overwhelming contempt. "Do not embarrass yourself with such a brazen display of ignorance."
The stranger hesitates, alarmed by the harshness of her own words. With a deep breath she regains her composure, and her voice becomes gentler.
"My name is Helena, and I am the one ultimately responsible for Arthur's crimes. I could not teach him to fear the flame."
A lie. Has to be. The *Sight** will reveal the truth of the matter...*
*Impossible. But there, clear as day. She's telling the truth. And more than that, the crackle of Flames around her feels... old. Tired beyond words. The stew of emotions within me is difficult to parse, but above the rest one feeling makes itself known rising in me like a scream. Outrage.
Helena does not avert her gaze, in silence she witnesses Belial's outrage. Her expression relaxes, almost welcoming the Praetor's anger.
"What do you wish to hear? That I once believed I could bear the curse of the flame on my own? That I was not strong enough to take a child's life? That perhaps everything Arthur knows of evil, he has learned from me? My cowardice has caused this world many scars, but I did not flee from my responsibilities. When I saw what my apprentice had become, I resolved to end him... But he was faster and my body burned to ashes."
Her somber voice has not lost its commanding tone, and her weary eyes still burn with determination and defiance.
"Make no mistakes, even now I'm nothing but ashes. A revenant barely clinging to anger and regrets. All I know is that the Will of the Flame has granted me another chance and I do not intend to squander it."
An apprentice killing the teacher. A pattern echoing across time. I wonder if one day I'll become something so horrible Marna would try to end *me*, my own hand to slow to fight back.
"Dying then."
I dissipate the fire in my hand.
"If there's an excusable leave if absence, that's it. I have questions, but they can wait. Fix this Helena. Fix what your apprentice did to mine."
It's meant to come out like a command. It sounds more like the plea of a child.
Whether Helena notices Belial's desperation or not, she doesn't show it. Wearing once again a mask of graceful disdain, she makes her way to the frozen warrior, silently studying her with the *sight*.
"The situation is dire. Sinfire can be extinguished in theory, but I doubt we will be able to restore the damaged parts of her soul. The safest course of action would be to unravel it, forcing her essence to assume a temporary shape and exploring the resulting maze in order to excising the areas wounded by the flames of pride one by one."
Ah. Kardonk studied it in his plan to kill Samael.
"Passing familiarity from diabolist practices. Truth be told it's one field where Marna likely knows more than me. The tongue of the giants is closer to it than most."
âY-yeah, I had a breakthrough recently.
Cannabilizing some of Marnaâs old notes and u-using some rune-work a-a stable structure, but b-basicallyâŠâ
He trails off, realizing he doesnt need to explain everything.
âHereâ
He hands Blake the sheaf of papers
âI-if you can speak her name to her, her True Name, then her essence, who she is, sh-should assert itself over the influence of the Pride flame. I-Ive written down what I can gather to give you an idea of the structure, b-but there are to many holes on my e-end, and Im not sure if even th-the other guy, like even before Greyhaven, i-if he knew her well enough to compile a true name.â
The runic structure is simple, basic. Communicating thing like, Stubbornness, a almost Prideful Loyalty, Arrogance.
But also Kindness, Compassion. Trust. So much Trust. She was the one that welcomed Kardonk to Ithacar, she was the one who entrusted him with the care of the Orphans. Before he had given any reason or substantiating data, she had chosen to trust him explicitly. And even now, having forgotten much of the things that defined their relationship, that trust, and acknowledgement of it, leaks into every line, engraved in magical script.
âBut you might. If you can speak to her her true nameâŠI think it just might work. B-but be careful, if you get it wrongâŠit could destabilize her and undo all the progress and time Art has bought us.â
So all I have to do to fix this is... prove to the universe that I know my own daughter better than anyone else? Maybe for another parent, it would be a simpler thing. But I've failed her in too many ways.
âA-at least, not with any finitude. This isnât m-my specialty. But if I had to guess? M-my first few attempts were rather disastrous, if you recall. If you get it wr-wrong it will be a lie about the very essence of her being. It would likely be destabilizing in some form or another. She could i-instantly be consumed by the Flame. O-or it might work partially, l-leaving her damaged in some way. Its not the s-same, but subject studies of those who have had their Minds or Souls b-burned by the Lightless Flame shows us what th-that sort of thing might look like.â
The air shimmers as a blue-purple haze overtakes the environment. A fluorescent beam, like a straightened lightning bolt, descends from the sky. A giant, grey man forms from the glow.
Hello, Belial, I heard your call. Are you in distress?
"I was in the 'neighborhood,' as they say. I just finished having a pleasant conversation with the Iter of Violence. I have some time before I must return to the Astral, I thought I would come and see."
Vashric looks down at the distinguished Praetor. His eyes burn brightly, yet his face is blank.
"Cost? I want for nothing, Belial Blake. However, knowledge is its own reward. Your daughter is rife with a hellish corruption, yes? There has been a rash of similar incidents recently. I do not think they are explicitly connected, but understanding of one may deepen my understanding of the others."
"This affliction is spiritual. It attacks her soul and mind. So, have you tried confusing it? Have you tried giving it something else to target and then isolating it?"
"Bait it out? For study.... yes that seems wise. Fire spreads without lessening itself, but if we could draw out a piece for analysis that would help immensely!"
I'm pacing as I think. Lighting my pipe to calm my nerves and fight back against the pervasive cold of this place.
"I'm not sure how familiar you are with avatars, Belial, but they are an extension of being. Two mind-spaces, one mind. The corruption wouldn't know the difference. They would both be Marna."
"And, with luck, we may lure the flames into the avatar completely, imprison it, and sever the connection, sparing your daughter."
"You there, go to the palace armory and retrieve something for me."
I hand the nearest guard a slip of paper with instructions and he rushes away with a hasty salute.
"The armor you helped Marna design has a new feature. A complete personality construct that perfectly mimicks Marna's mental patterns. Basically a "dummy mind" to shield frim psychic attacks Ith'Raal built out of spare memories he had lying around."
"Then the path is clear. It will not be easy, however. For the highest chance of success, Marna may need to be on the brink of death before the flames resolve to transition. It won't do you any good to have two infected bodies."
A troubling concept. Risky. But oddly less dire than many solutions offered thus far. The heart would only need to stop temporarily. No damage would be done to her at the spiritual level. Nothing paid we can't get back.
"I have methods that can bring her to the brink of death, yes. Poisons and antidotes. I'll need to consult the Lindts and manage the formula carefully. She's in a delicate state as-is and even the slightest mistake risks pushing her over the edge."
They say pride goeth before a fall, but Tarul Var did not expect it to happen like this. Never like this. The Great Balance teaches him to be detached and level-headed, but for all the lich's wisdom and experience, he is still human- a human who refuses to accept what's happening to his friend.
What about this is fair? Why should Marna perish when the worthless bag of ashes killing her gets to live? There is no justice in that. Had he blood left to boil, Tarul's heart would surely be a furious cauldron. Visions of unspeakable violence against Arthur Black fill his mind, pushing aside all thoughts of restraint.
And to the lich's surprise, he knows instinctually that the Balance feels the same.
"To hell with your edgelord magic, Kentucky Fried Fuckface. I'm going to save my friend from you, and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me."
With a thought, Tarul teleports straight into the praetor's vicinity, letting righteous wrath guide his next actions.
Skullbones? Heh. The withered old man came to visit! That's sweet. Not that she needs help of course. But touching that he cares. Oh, he looks *angry*. How does a skeleton pull off an angry face anyway?
"Keeper of the Balance. I was wondering if you'd come. Are you here as an observer or have you deigned to intervene once more?"
Deign? Blake, I'm an active member of the government. I helped you bind Old Pitch. I do not "deign" to do anything if it needs to be done. Marna did me a favor. I mean to repay that.
The lich's tone is dangerous, but his fury is focused enough to not take it out on Blake.
I spent hundreds of years studying the powers of the Nine Hells for my research. To do nothing with that knowledge when my friend is dying would be unconscionable. I have to do something.
"That was... unfair of me Tarul Var. I apologize."
Fury at injustice. A friend older than any other. Stirs something in me I had foolishly forgotten. A fire is alight in the old man that even a small spark scattered in his passing is enough to reignite the one in me.
"You surprise me, friend. I never thought much of your Balance truth be told. But perhaps my judgement was too hasty."
How like the winds of Stratos to stoke the fires. How like a skeleton to have a spine.
"I would be greatful, Tarul. For whatever aid you can provide."
Your daughter is imperiled, and you are upset. There is never a need to apologize for that.
Tarul turns and gazes deep into the ice. He conjures a small portal and withdraws a book from it entitled A Comprehensive Guide to the Nine Hells of Baator. It's a lot smaller than would be expected of such a grand title.
Lately, I've been copying my great work down into these smaller enchanted books to save people a trip to my archives. Let's see... here we go: the properties of hellfire.
The lich skims through his notes with practiced efficiency, then closes the book.
We know that mind and soul are intertwined, such that changes to one can affect the other. Pride burns in Marna's spirit, which manifests in her psyche. But it goes both ways. If I bring her into my mental fortress, I can impose my will upon her mind and lay bare her soul. Then I can try to smother the flames of pride with the wind of objective truth.
Yes, the wind may stoke fire. But it can quench its destructive fury and blow away the obscuring smoke it leaves behind, too. And that renewal may be what Marna needs to be survive.
"Quenching the fire is exactly what we need. Seems rational we'd need to do it in the spiritual plane. Ulrick has already provided a way to heal the damage done, but it's worthless unless we can stop the ongoing inferno."
I look over his shoulder, eagerly searching the pages for a solution.
Take it. I'll need physical contact with Marna to make the connection strong enough anyway.
When Blake reads the pages, his eyes are drawn to the following passage:
"WARNING: while the soul of a person corrupted by hellfire can be extinguished with the proper conceptual magic and sufficient willpower, this procedure comes with a serious risk of igniting one's own soul in the process. Thus, it is only to be attempted in the most dire circumstances, and only then by a master mage."
The warning is written in red ink in the middle of the page, so it's impossible that Tarul would miss something this important, even if he was just skimming the text. Yet when Blake looks up at him, the lich is already inscribing a hand-sized magic gateway into the ice so he can reach Marna through it.
The guards around the nephilim king are numerous. And largely, ceremonial.
"How long since you've last been allowed to stand in Ithacar without risk of immediate obliteration monster? Go on then. Speak your barbed words through your villainous forked tongue as always. To what do I owe the displeasure of your company?"
Of course. What else could this old monster be sniffing around for but total surrender? The one thing he always demands.
"How do I even know you could pull it off? You're a creature completely possessed by pride. Likely you're more susceptible to the affliction than Marna is."
"If you were trying to convince me you weren't consumed by pride, that was a poor sentence to choose."
Truth be told, Samael's offer is tempting. He's clever. Found the one thing I'd be willing to pay so dearly for.
"You've made a mistake, king of carcasses. We have, arrayed here, dozens of mages. Each with their own means of finding a solution. I'm not so desperate as to come crawling to you."
Oh I wasn't trying to convince you of that. And truth be told I was more astounded by the idea that you would even consider making a deal with me after well...
Gestures at the city around them, alarming several of the guards
Well, would you look at that. Someone being slowly consumed by sinfire. Nasty thing, isn't it? The most powerful form of hellfire, hence why only the Seven can wield it.
She will die believing she's the greatest warrior to ever live.
"She's your warlock John. Isn't there some clause that mandates your intervention?"
My face is steady but this is a bluff. And a desperate one at that. Hoping against hope that a legal avenue of attack exists, and that I can convince John I've found it.
You are right thoughâshe is my warlock, the only reason why this demands even a modicum of my attention.
I could save her soul. However, she is very disloyal, and I fail to see what I'd get from helping her. Perhaps you'll do yourself a favor and open my eyes to the possibility of profit.
Well, well, well. Kardonk was quick to give that away to the first person who asked, wasn't he? Even though we made a deal.
Congratulations Belial, you brought something to the negotiation table worth my attention. I don't fear it as much now that I can control the flame, but I admitâI'd rather it be in my possession than with someone as irresponsible as its previous owner.
And you decided to give it to my number one hater in the meantime? I admit, there was no clause in the contract, but the trust is over now. We're working strictly within the bounds of the contract, and anything beyond that is fair game.
âP-plenty of people hate you Hellfire. I-if a person hating you was a prerequisite to not being allowed control over it, th-then I would have had to scour the corners of the earth. I-I gave it to the person most likely to keep possession o-of it in the face of any thievery, a-and least likely to use it. O-or do you forget, I was on the run a-at the time, with many enemies. There was a significant chance I could have been overrun and th-the ember could have been in the wind.â
This is all true, but he also used its return as a way to regain some favor with Ithacar. But Hellfire doesnât need to know that.
âYou act like dealing with me h-has been poor business, yet you got Livia at almost no cost to you. And now she sits i-in your office as a testament to the fate of those who mess with the hellsâ
âBy the way, how i-is your end of that bargain coming?â
Don't mince words. You gave it to the person least likely to use it, unless it was against me. He's not exactly in control of his emotions when I'm around, evident by his attempted attack on me during an EON meeting.
Also, don't pretend it wasn't a major victory for you that Livia is out of the picture. Her being gone is a big boon in your eyes, isn't it?
As for my end of the bargain, I was about to tell you during our last conversation, if you hadn't left so abruptly. I can tell you now unless you plan to teleport away again.
"Deliver." A specific wording. And if I can't catch him out on that technicality, perhaps another.
"You make a compelling case John."
He's perhaps the only one here who is guaranteed to be able to fix this. And he knows that. He knows I know that. He knows this ember is about the strongest leverage someone can have over him...
and there it is. The trap. He sought a moment and tried to force my hand early.
"Unfortunately if Marna learned I made a deal with the man who killed Morrig to buy her salvation, she'd be quite cross with me. No dice."
There are other options on the table yet. It pains me to turn down the easiest among them. The safest, for lack of a better word. I try to stamp that feeling down into something productive. Anger.
"We'll have words soon John. In an arena of my choosing. Not here. Not like this, with you circling tragedy like a damn vulture searching for carrion."
The flames can be extinguished, but the damage they leave behind can be lasting. The longer you wait, the greater the risk of permanent scars on your daughter's soul.
When someone needs urgent heart surgery, you call a heart surgeon, not a brain surgeon, hoping his general expertise in cutting people open will be "good enough." Thatâs how you end up with botched results.
But hey, Iâm no parent. I wouldnât know if a parentâs job is to do everything in their power to help their childâor just half-ass it as they wait around for a potentially cheaper offer.
There is a hesitation in Kardonkâs voice. A fear.
âWe n-need to figure out how to destroy that, p-please, not give it to John of all people. Hes promised to surrender the ember of Fate if we m-manage to destroy it.â
Kardonk looks ill. Urging a father to avoid a method to save his daughter
And yet this is exactly what I warned Kardonk against. The very thing I almost killed him over.
"Don't worry Kardonk. I know who I'm dealing with."
I try to put iron in my gaze. To convey without words what I mean without John hearing. Hellfire will never have this ember. Not in any way that matters.
Well, the exact workings are a mystery even for me. Maybe my patron knows more, but NightbiteâŠ
He looks somewhat uncomfortable for a second
âŠainât the talkative type.
From what Iâve learned, these flames are not real ones, but extremely condensed, volatile spirit matter. They canât burn regular matter. At least as I knowâŠ
It can damage, weaken, empower, and restore souls, depending on my intent. Once it remade mine from tiny specks.
Also, whatever stuff is coated in it, be it myself, my axe, or anything, can physically interact with spiritual things. Thatâs how I can punch spirits when itâs needed.
Purple, ghostly flames emerge from Ulrick, as they start to rapidly circle around the block of ice, before entering it. The ice doesnât melt, at least not from the heat.
Ulrick focuses mentally on the healing and restorative aspects of his powers. He can only hope itâll be sufficientâŠ
/uw feel free to call me out if Iâm overstepping lore boundaries or if itâs too much
The fire passes through solid matter, and into Marna's very soul. The golden glow of the pride-fire takes on a hue to match Ulrick's own. Blackened soul matter uncurls and reconstitutes. Wounds mend. Its working!
But somethings wrong. The soul-fire heals the damage but seems able to do little to extinguish the blaze itself. Ulrick is, in essence, raising walls and nailing boards in place in a building still actively ablaze.
The bad news is, it feels like somethingâs⊠actively keeping ruining her soul. I got another idea that could work, but thatâs something Iâd rather not tryâŠ
[Soul Sight]
Using this spell, Ulrick takes a look at Marnaâs soul, trying to see the source of the corruption.
The forces of many are arrayed before him. Mauritius cordons off sections of the soul to contain the spread as the Bismuth direct their energies to suppression. Multiple mages have attempted to enter Marna's mind and battle the fires directly.
It's a tense battle, but one that they can win, together. Although so far, Ulrick is the only one to have provided a means of repairing the damage done.
He presses on, pouring more soulfire in, as much as he can. Partly to heal, and partly to bolster the others efforts.
He speaks again, with some hesitation.
âŠif all else falls⊠I could try to destroy the part of her soul the fire most attached to. Then restore the whole spirit from the healthy part with soulfire.
âŠbut this is something Iâd very much avoid, except if itâs last resort.
I see others are mostly going against the flames. So Iâll keep focusing on healing the damage her soul went through.
/uw about to sleep, wonât be able to reply for a few hours.
"Souls and hearts and minds have always been within this expertise. My domain of knowledge is that of power, and Marna seems to have been affected by a particularly great one."
"As for my price, I request only alliance. While I do what I do purely for the common good of the world, it would be good to have another doing the same."
"I have many plans, for many ailments, but the first step of any curing is to decipher exactly how her affliction works. To that end, I have quite the variety of tools. Only then can we begin to discuss cures."
Mind. Body. Soul. The three pillars of what makes a person who they are, at least by many theorhetical models. Each influencing the other and influenced in kind. The soul is the essence. The metaphysical blueprint. The higher self. The mind is thought. Choice. The body, the physical manifestation.
As the soul is warped and melted to conform to Pride, the body changes too. Changing to reflect Marna's inflated self-image. She's taller. More beautiful. More imposing. Her thoughts distorted by the recursive knot of false perfection twisting in her own spiritual essence. Effects downstream in body and mind from the soul.
The chunk of soul devoid of pride spontaneously generates it. Seems the fire is transformative, not merely a catalyst. Although pride was a sin Marna was quite guilty of before the infection, which is certainly not helping matters.
Koranth begins with a measure to buy herself more time. She loads the information beamer with ideas of *resistance** and doubt, and fires it into Marna's head, filling her mind with will to resist the flame, and the ability to doubt her perfection. Even if it did not solve the problem, it should serve greatly to alleviate the symptoms. She then speaks to Belial.*
"There are two paths we could follow here. Either I could utilize my soul fire, cleansing her flame but damaging her soul in the process - quite possibly permanently, or I could continue searching for an alternative solution."
"I never went back. Couldn't bare to know. There were people inside. There must have been people inside. She would be disgusted with me, wouldn't she? I never belonged. Never belonged. Never belonged."
"NO! FUCK THEM! I DONT NEED THEIR APPROVAL! PERFECT! IM PERFECT! I'M..."
"A monster. They'll never love me. She never loved me. If she did I tricked her. He was right to leave. All alone. All-"
The self-doubt is having an effect, clearly. Marna's eyes are darting around like a panicked animal.
Koranth begins to create arcane firebreaks throughout Marna's soul, first protecting the unaffected parts, then dividing the rest into manageable sections. She takes one section and - in a single burst - pulls the fire into herself. No changes are visible, as true pride is almost a foreign emotion to her, something she has not felt in years. She then safely stores the fire in a crystal, which seems to grow larger and spikier, before checking in on the section she just drained.
Siphoning the fire off has an effect. It wouldn't be enough without the work of so many others, but slowly but surely, the Poison is being drawn from the wound.
(I didn't forget. I'm probably gonna do a follow-up post where I explain how everyone's efforts came together)
Which of Black Iron's creatures darkens my doorstep now? Whoever it is, they can hardly make things worse.
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u/Zebos2Black Iron LLC (CEO/sparrow/Squad D) feat The Bloodstar26d agoedited 26d ago
In the warehouse space is rent appearing as a red oozing scar into reality that crackles with black and red lightning. two pairs of large armored robotic hands reached through the space tear and write in it further. A woman in a black iron a branded a lab coat steps out of the spatial tear adjusting her glasses as the hands retreat in the wound in reality and snaps shut with an audible crack
"Dr Quin Unica head of Black irons Eureka facility at your humble service"
"Was that wizardy enough" the silver cloud forms itself into the words.
A mad scientist then. Not the worst of their horrors. Though likely parent to more than a few.
"Given the logo, I'm expecting a solution at a dire price. Out with it then."
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u/Zebos2Black Iron LLC (CEO/sparrow/Squad D) feat The Bloodstar26d ago
Unica let's out an amused laugh
"Warlocks" She mutters to herself.
"My price is two things well three if you're feeling extra generous. The first the opportunity to study the flame I kind of have to if I'm going to fix your issue. Second access to Zeta I have some interesting prototypes I wish to test and I need access to that data and third your endorsement of my promotion to the board"
I consider the offer. Black Iron likely has a solution. Or the know how to find one. But should they have access to data on a fucking soul weapon?
More than that, Lianna would have to go back unde their "care" for the experiments. I remember the bracers the Busmuth put on my daughter. I remember a tyrant that would use my child as a weapon. Hatred boils my blood.
"Take your offer and choke on it. I've heard offers from devils today I'd take before yours."
Marna would never forgive me if that was the price I paid for her life. I'd sooner sell my soul to Samael.
Might have to, the way things are looking.
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u/Zebos2Black Iron LLC (CEO/sparrow/Squad D) feat The Bloodstar26d ago
"ah boo typical emotional response that's why I removed mine and I was even going to keep her out of Nozoths grimy metallic hands for you, a shame I bet zet- sorry Lianna would love to prove her effectiveness to you."
"I'll be keeping Lianna out of Nozoth's hands either way. And yours. Crawl back underneath whatever rotten hole you emerged from and writhe there, maggot."
u/BaronDoctorJolen Half-Elven, Recovering Amnesiac Chronothaumic Wanderer.26d ago
"The only method I know does a number on one's personality, their memories, their knowledge...I was a truly evil wizard...in the future past. Years ago centuries from now, I cast the Curse of the Underfoot Lego on an entire city so that right before everyone took a step a Lego brick would find its way under their feet so they would step on it."
Jolen blew out a breath. "Truly a horrible fate to befall a people. So they cried out for help, and the Limey in the Blue Box answered. He shuffled all the Legos to a place that needed them for building, redirecting the curse ino a way that would help others and they would bless a people with their every step. Then he found me and chronothaumically bound me to his Blue Box. Where it would go in space and time, I would go. I still do, but if I'm doing something kind and without thought for how it might benefit me, I get a bit more time in my present. It's a hell of a parole to be on, but I've seen ages in the past and future and wondrous places."
Glancing at the blessed ice indicated, he smiled. "If you allow me to connect her location in time and space to my own, she can travel with me. The experience will change her, but if my understanding of the differences between my personal subjective past and present are any indication, change can be good. The next time I'm in the neighborhood we can get to work cutting her loose."
"You're proposing... what? A temporal lobotomy while we wait allow the affliction to run rampant? Are you mad?"
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u/BaronDoctorJolen Half-Elven, Recovering Amnesiac Chronothaumic Wanderer.26d ago
"Treatment at the source. Some discomfort as she loses connection to her old self and forms her new self. Scrub out the sources of the sort of hubristic arrogance that leaves her a victim to the Flame of Alazoneia."
Jolen scoffed a bit. "Just because I don't remember a lot of who I used to be doesn't mean I didn't retain a ton of the underlying knowledge that made me capable of doing the things I used to do. It's actually similar to the sort of thing Ith'raal was offering, forcibly providing a degree of perspective on one's place in time and space. She might be the mightiest warrior in her corner of reality but out of the scores who could lay claim on that title for their particular neck of the woods she might not even make the top 25."
He looked through the orb at Marna. "As for why? Most of my contacts have been with extraplanar beings; it's how I've formed as much of my personality as I've got. To be able to actually connect to a mortal...it would be nice to be able to be a person again. To be able to help people."
"I'd understand if you have second thoughts about a formerly-evil wizard on parole, but considering the rest of your options tend to be at least somewhat predatory? She'll see the whole of time and space and come back with a wealth of experience and perspective." He blinked. "Small chance that she comes back with enough subjective experience to rival your own, I'm not the one in control of the travels of the Box after all. Nothing in life is guaranteed."
The Bismuth would send four heralds to aid Belial in saving his daughter. They would use their control over magic to siphon power from Marnas prison and turn it back against the prison as a weapon. They asked for no favor or repayment for their attempt.
Marna seethes. She doesn't NEED help. Least of all from Opal's irredescent brood. But as little appreciation as they are given by their patient, the treatment is moderately effective. The fire is suppressed. Time bought and paid for. A critical thing at this juncture.
Understood. Then, I'll start with a simple action, cooling.
Sigurd walks through the ice towards Marna. He sits down, and the matter of her soul is held still, with the heat being transferred to some other place.
Hastur looked at the message with a gnawing curiosity. The magic of souls was hardly his specialty. Besides, he doubted very much that the Praetor of Ithacar would be all that keen to see him if he discovered what Hastur had been keeping under lock and key and *heavily** warded...*
You're going to have to decide what to do with it eventually.
He buried the voice down deeper, and ignored the call for aid.
Mauritius. Knowledgeable in both fire and soul. Exactly the sort we need.
"Some time ago Marna and I dueled Arthur Black. He escaped our justice by turning to powerful infernal pyromancy. A corrupting form of hellfire that corrupts the soul to one of the seven deadly sins as it withers away to nothing. Pride, in this case."
I try to keep my voice steady, but explaining it all is difficult.
"We've delayed the spread as much as we can. But Marna's running out of time."
"Hmm, maybe you could sever the affected parts to stop the spread to the uncorrupted ones, like cutting the arm where a snake bit so the poison doesn't spread, or cutting a line of trees near a forest-fire so that it doesn't reach the other side"
"I know that this plan doesn't sound... Great, but it should be amongst the quickest solutions if everything else fails"
"Yeah, that could work, it is a bit more difficult but i think it can be done, however, I fear that this may not solve the problem completely, I don't know if this is true in this particular case, but many types of hellfire burn eternally, if that's the case, this would not stop the fire, just hide it"
"It's fucking progress at least. Ulrick found a way to heal the damage, but its doing nothing to stop the fire itself. Anything that at least slows this down is helping."
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u/patoman12Mauritius, Zealous Scholar, Phoenix Lich26d agoedited 26d ago
"Additionally, I think that we could try to use the reverse of the flame to overcome it, the virtue of humility, we just need a way to apply it"
"Also, I've got another idea"
With a flick of the wrist, he creates a small portal in which he dumps a small, empty vial, and then pulls it, now filled with water, water from Lake Holy, the lake which got blessed by as many deities as possible
"Countering infernal flames with celestial water seems like a sensible choice... Especially one with as many blessings as this one"
Uw/ I already got confirmation, so I added it to the comment
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u/Timpanzee38"The Agent", Mercenary Guild Liaison. Slayer of the Godslaver26d ago
Cerene gets the message. She's in the city, but unfortunately she's already on her way to try and help Lianna. She doubts she could help anyways. She was a blunt tool, not well suited for something like this
DF looks for the shit he grabbed while in xianxia world.
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u/avamirRiva Blake - Queen of Ithacar, Summoner, Meth-Blood Elf26d ago
Riva stands silently in the background. She doesn't really handle hellfire this way, and didn't traffic in souls. The fortress of the mind technique she knew was meant to keep it out, to ward against it.
But she's here for emotional support for Belial, if nothing else. For Marna too, if the girl wants it.
Oh. Riva's here. A piss-poor duelist. A hard-ass thorn in her side. A hollow replacement for-
Why does she look upset? Right... something was wrong with her. Hard to remember. Marna felt the need to apologize for some reason. Which was ridiculous, she was PERFECT and capable of no wrong. If she had been mean to Riva she probably deserved it.
But there Riva was, comforting her father. Something she was, admittedly, incapable of doing at the moment.
It was nice. That her family came to see her. And Riva was that, wasn't she? It wasn't simple. It was raely easy. But it comforted Marna to have her here now while her mind melted away. A tear escaped Marna's eye and turned to ice just as quickly.
A warm breeze flows through the room, carrying the scent of cherry blossoms and new growth. The gentle weight and warmth of a palm on your shoulder follows shortly after. âInteresting⊠very few mortals have the capacity to contact me when Iâm at home.â The voice is kind, and soft like dew on young grass. âSince you got my attention, I suppose it canât hurt to listen to you for a moment. Tell me, Belial Blake⊠what is so important that youâd give a fae your name?â
"But I didn't give it, did I? Merely stated it as fact."
The school of warlocking I practice is more adjacent to the infernal than the fey courts, but one thing remains important in both. Phrasing. Implying I gave my name then fishing for confirmation. Tricky, this one.
"That said, with my daughter's life on the line I'd offer a great deal. Speak your terms plainly if you can."
The Faerie despise being wrestled to concrete literal terms, but I'll try to get him as close as possible if I can.
He chuckles lightly. Not intending to give out his motives easily when even he wasnât entirely sure what they were beyond entertainment. âWhat was your daughterâs name again? I donât believe you gave it to me.â He places his hands together gently, and a mushroom table grows out of the floor, sprouting a gold teapot and cups from the top, which quickly fill themselves. He sits, cross legged on the floor, and takes a sip from the cup closest to him. âWhat services do you require?â
"My daughter's soul is imperiled by a form of higher hellfire. It warps her soul to the sin of pride but more seriously, it burns her down like a candle. And she is running out if metaphorical wick."
The satyr licks his lips, the tips of his deer like antlers sparking to life with multicolored flames. âFire magics are an expertise of mine⊠but that still doesnât tell me what you need.â He reaches up and snuffs one of the flames, maintaining eye contact with you. âI will perform one task to satisfy a necessity of yours. In exchangeâŠâ He purses his lips âYou and your daughter will visit me in the spring court once a month for tea.â
"Vague on both counts. A necessity, nonspecific. Visitation on a timeline in a difficult to reach realm where time flows differently? No terms for consequences of a breach of contract or how many months the deal lasts? I have, quite literally, negotiated the pants off a devil before Pan. Let's not pretend I was born yesterday."
He chuckles âVery well, then set your terms, and Iâll adjust to make them more agreeable if need be. As for timeline, I was thinking just your lifetime and hers, mortal company is hard to come by in my realm. As for the difficulty of getting there, Iâm able to move between at will.â He sips from his teacup again, gesturing to the cup closest to you with his free hand. âHibiscus, rose, and orange, a rather sweet blend suitable for the mortal palette.â He sets his cup down and reaches for the teapot.
Accept no gifts. Owe no favors. Implicit is the name of the game with fey tricks. But so to is decorum. Hard lines must be drawn while managing fickle regard. I reach into my pocket and pass a token across the fungal countertop. A packet of the herbs I smoke to still the tremors in my hands.
"I accept your gift and repay it in kind. Comfort for comfort."
The tea is quite good. He could simply have poisoned me I suppose. But fey generally consider base murder without frills to be boring. Its one of the advantages their deals have over devils.
"I offer a visit you three times in three months this Spring, by the Ithacarian calendar, on days of my choosing. Paltry for you, I know, but there's more. On each visit, we'll exchange comforts, just as we have here, and afterwards I'll gift you something you've never seen before. Something new each visit."
Intrugue. A story. Fey's bread and butter.
"Should I fail to meet these terms, I offer a crown, a wish, and a vision as collateral. All conditional on your ability to quell a fire normally mastered only by the seven lords of Hell."
He tilts his head, the flames on his antlers casting odd shadows with the cherry blossoms that dance around his form. He considers this for a moment, pouring himself more tea before setting the pot back down to pick up the packet of herbs to sniff. His face wrinkles slightly as he does, and he coughs. âDoes this mixture cost you much to obtain?â He sets it back down, sliding it towards you. âI prefer not to smoke, though a good incense tickles my fancy on occasion. Your terms are agreeable, however I would like to offer the option for you to visit more often, should you find the guest rooms of the manor satisfactory.â He takes a sip from his tea cup and smiles softly, reaching his palm towards the girl. âI can feel the heat from here. It will need a vessel, but it is nothing I cannot work with.â His eyes wander the room, searching for a suitable vessel, a lantern, a cage, a torchâŠ
"An open invitation? Generous. I extend hospitality in kind."
Probably offensive to continually parse words and terms like this in the event that Pan is being sincere. But I still have most of a soul for a reason.
"Wouldn't be a pyromancer worth my salt if I didn't keep a lantern on hand. They make decent spellcasting foci."
^(If y-you send out a message on all channels, expect some people you don't know to hear...)
Yes, I believe I could do th-that...
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u/avamirRiva Blake - Queen of Ithacar, Summoner, Meth-Blood Elf26d ago
Nico had tried his best. But the Academy simply didn't do things like that. If his Magistra didn't know of any techniques, he certainly wouldn't. And they didn't know soul magic. It wasn't really anything he knew how to do.
So now his friend? was a popsicle, and he couldn't do anything about it.
"What kind of pyromancer are you that you can't figure out a safe way out of here, huh?" he said through the ice. "Burning yourself up in there like an idiot."
He didn't really know what words would get through to her. Maybe it was a waste to try anyway. She was stubborn.
But she was dying because of it. And he didn't know what else to do. This was beyond anything Nico knew how to handle. He thought he was ready to become a magister himself, but this was outside any of his knowledge.
"Maybe if you got over yourself, you'd be able to do something about me taunting you instead of hiding in that ice, eh?" he said instead, his tone belying his harsh words.
Heh. Look it's Riva's pet nerd with the man bun! She should really stop bullying the guy, but he's just so stoic! It's too easy!
He's also got a sharp tongue and gets her back about as often, which, honestly iron sharpens iron. He may have had a small part to play in her emerging transcendent perfection. Some words are due to the poor sap, here at the end.
"Thanks for putting up with me Nico. I know I'm not always an easy person to be around. You've been a good friend to me. All of Riva's little twerps have. Wish I said it more often, but Ithacar wouldn't feel like home without you."
At least, that's what she's like to say. Unfortunately... ice.
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u/avamirRiva Blake - Queen of Ithacar, Summoner, Meth-Blood Elf26d ago
Did Marna blink? Nico doubted it. Besides, if she did, she was probably blinking some kind of code for "your manbun is stupid, Nico" and "I'll stuff you in a locker when this is all over, nerd".
"I'll have you know that the bun is only because I'm trying to grow my hair out, as is the style of the day, and it kind of gets in my way," he hmphed, knowing he was just arguing with himself. It wasn't like she could hear him or respond. "There aren't a lot of alternatives, Marna. Ponytail? Pff, you want me to have the same hairstyle as you?"
He let out a derisive snort.
"Or maybe I'll cut it all off. Or how about long hair with an undercut? What do you think? Feel like breaking out of there and bullying me yet?"
He knew how ridiculous it was talking about hairstyles with someone in a cube of ice, but maybe some part of him DID hope that talking nonsense would motivate her to shoot a hand out of the ice and flip him off.
Instead of, you know... dying.
"Yeah, you're a better conversationalist when you're all incased in ice," he said, poorly faking a laugh he didn't feel.
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u/Arkruisprincess of hell, child of morningstar25d agoedited 25d ago
the cross of the leviathan forms on the ground near by, burning a portal into the ground, and a demoness hops out
âHello there love, i hear someone was in a spot of trouble?â
"Seven fires wielded by seven princes. Though mastery of the infenernal arts and pyromancy has allowed an old monster to usurp them for his own purposes. A hellfire of nigh-irrevicable potency that bends the soul to pride before burning it up completely."
The ice itself is consecrated by Palandine. Sometimes called Bahamut. It may sting for an infernal entity to touch it directly.
The Flame of Pride is a powerful thing. Those that wield it border on the divine. The princess may lack the power. But as the child of the Prince of Pride himself, she would feel something equally important.
her eyes glow with her families power, her horns glow with the flames of hell, and in the tongue of infernal, announces her self and demands the flame of pride leave that vessel
It flickers. Dances. Jumps at the princess's will. But each pull requires monumental effort. Actually *moving** it is another matter it seems. Slowly but surely, progress is being made. She isn't pulling alone. Koranth the ice queen pulls into her own soul, devoid of pride. The fey king Pan works with the high magics of the Spring Court. Vashric of the Astral Realms tricks the flame into being coaxed by a false Marna.*
"No... more than meets the eye indeed aren't you?"
But while none of these mages lack for power, none make it dance quite like the daughter of the Morningstar. Not something a warlock is likely to miss.
(I got a lot if comments still going. Once everyone's resolved I'll do a big post tying what everyone did together!)
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u/Ares378 Ith'RaalâArchdevil of Memories, Evil Councillor, Lord of the 7th 26d ago
Somewhere within the building, a candle tips over, spilling molten wax upon the ground. As the fire grows, the hue slowly shifts from orange, to red, before finally landing on a deep shade of purple.
"Greetings, Belial..." Ith'Raal says, stepping out of the fire. "I'm sorry to hear what has happened to your daughter... I'm sure this is a very hard time for you. She's being consumed by the flame of Pride, yes? Such a pesky sin... An insidious killer. I do believe I may have the skills to rid her of this blight, but... with your track record, I'm hesitant to make any kinds of deals with you..."
He lets himself trail off intentionally. He wants you to change his mind.