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It’s the 765th year of the Empress’ Calendar. And in a small, remote village in the Threshold, the most honorable guardians of the Realm and the fist of the Empress, the Black Helms, are dispensing justice for the most foul crime of loitering. This disruption of the peace was brough about when an ordinary street performance turned into a majestic display of dance that could put the most famous artisan troupes of the Blessed Isle to shame. Those who bore witness to this glorious show of skill fell under its thrall and a dance fever broke out in the crowd like a plague. Anyone who looked at it for too long was susceptible to joining the crowd of dancers himself. When one of the Black Helms themselves fell under the spells effect the rest of the guards were left with no choice but to intervene and put a stop to the festivities by force.

But Mnemon Jet knew little of that. All he knew is that he made a wonderful performance that brought a little joy into the lives of the people in the city and now they are tarnishing his work. Not only that they wer behaving in a manner more fit for barbarians, not those representing the Empress' Justice. He felt rage swelling within him, and the desire to make these ingrates repent.
"By the dragons, what am I thinking?"

"Those people were singing your glory and danced in your name. Their adoration was yours, and they took it. It's only natural to want to punish them."
The demon, Markolab, spoke in his mind, egging him on to act.

"No. This is insane. Clearly my mind is being affected. I can't afford to bring attention to my presence any more than I already have. I need to regroup with Kaya and Ena."

"Who says it's "you" who is to bring attention to himself?"

Jet paused in his stride. Then he took a sharp turn and headed into an alleyway that the crowd already ran out of. Finding a secluded spot he concentrated on the image of a person who does not exist. A man slightly taller, more muscular and more rough looking than him, with a prominent scar over his eye. As soon as the image was clear his shadow bubbled like it was about to boil over, then it sprung on him like a living thing and wrapped him in a tender penumbra of inky blackness. A few moments later his shadow became quiescent once more and his shape was changed to that of the man he imagined.
"How do I look?"
Even his voice was much deeper than before.

"Decidedly not like Mnemon Jet."

"Good."
>>
With his new disguise Jet went out to confront the guards. He gently tapped one of them on the shoulder and politely asked him for his attention but the city guard equipped with his club, black helmet and buff-jacket turned around with a swing of his weapon, which Jet managed to easily side-step. This did not please the soldier.
"Stop resisting!"

"Sir, I'm just-"

The man took one more swing, then another, and another. None hit their mark. To the eyes of the Infernal this mortal's movements were quite sluggish and clumsy. A gentle smack at his wrists, or simply ducking was enough to redirect or evade his blows. Seeing this others joined in to help their comrade. Their contribution did not help. Jets eyes darted from one, to another and his ears picked up their hurried steps on the pavement. He managed to evade all of them at the same time and he triumphed over his foes without harming any of them, as the Black Helms eventually ended up beating each other up due to their poor coordination. Once all of them either lied on the ground, battered and bruised, or leant on their own knees in exhaustion Jet looked at them.

>He swiftly left the area before reinforcements would arrive
>He grabbed one of them and started questioning him why they were wailing on the civilians
>He swiftly ended each
>Custom
>>
Welcome to Exalted. A high-fantasy land of eastern and western mythology combined into a bizarre amalgam.
You play as one of the Infernal Exalted, the Champions of Hell given immense power by the Yozi, the Demon Princes of Malfeas to do with them as you will.
dice are 1d20 against a DC based on circumstances and the chosen option. Bonuses are given to particularly creative or cool solutions to problems ranging from a +1 to a +3 on your final roll
multiple votes are allowed, if they are not mutually exclusive. Subject to QM approval depending on the situation
custom votes are allowed and welcome

And here's a character sheet. It's a work in progress but hopefully I'll iron out the kinks sooner or later.

And here's the archive link for last thread:
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Mnemon%20Jet

Enjoy
>>
>>6065702
>He grabbed one of them and started questioning him why they were wailing on the civilians
>>6065703
thanks for returning OP
>>
>>6065702
>He grabbed one of them and started questioning him why they were wailing on the civilians
>>
>>6065702
>He grabbed one of them and started questioning him why they were wailing on the civilians
>>
>>6065702
>He grabbed one of them and started questioning him why they were wailing on the civilians

Nice, we're back on.

>>6065703
Hot damn we've even got stats now. When Jet uses his firewand gun, does it rely more on martial arts or "archery"? Also Jet has 4 appearance, hes actually a bishonen.
>>
>>6065702
>Put on the act of some retired general and slam their moral
>"How is it possible that not only the Black Helms are turned into uncoordinated, undisciplined and disgusting barbarians not more worth than the mud mixed with horse shit you find in the stables after turbulent rain?! Years of seeing blood being spilled on the battlefields and on the streets, almost losing an eye while clad in armor and doing what I was trained for, and this is what the new generations were turned into?!"
>"I'm disgusted beyond belief, that an old sack of bones with a back that hurts each passing day, could evade ALL of you without not much effort!! What is it? You enjoyed a little too much of beating poor civilians and bums that you all got sluggish? Oh by the Dragons... I swear that if you don't explain right about now why you would decide to split the heads of simple people dancing on the street, I'll drag your asses to the most bastardly cold and disgusting guard post to the North, and train you all by myself on the open until all the fingers in your hand turn charcoal black and are so twisted it would be better to cut them off and give you hooks for hands."
>"You! Fucking explain now before I get you all tied and dragged across the streets to your superiors and left like another bum on the streets, infected by fleas and any other goddamn mix of diseases!"

I don't know if you would like to already make a random persona of a retired soldier/Seargent, but given our looks I could only think of that. Or maybe we're just some random nomad bum who appears from time to time and just fucks around, I feel that could work more our ways, and also this long ass write-in would really help to give us some good-demon points
>>
>>6065788
Firearms of all kind rely on Archery.
It's just an umbrella term for ranged combat of all kinds other than throwing shit.
>>
>>6065702
>He grabbed one of them and started questioning him why they were wailing on the civilians
>>
>>6065790
Thats pretty funny. Though if I was deciding on an alter ego to do stuff that Jet doesn't want to tarnish his goody goody public image with I think I'd go for more of an Underworld gangster persona. Though maybe it can fit together, the retired or fallen soldier officer who fell into a bad crowd.
>>
>>6065790
I'll support. But like other guy says, gangster would work.
>>
>>6065971
>>6066064
I just came with the retired soldier, but we can work this Persona into just a gangster that's highly competent on things and sometimes steals and others just fucks around lying and stuff (Like how he could be lying into being a Officer or something)
>>
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He walked up to one of the guards, grabbed him by the collar, took a deep breath - which was just an excuse for him to collect his thoughts - and began shaking him.
"How is it possible that the Black Helms turned into undisciplined, uncoordinated barbarians worth less than mud mixed with horse shit after turbulent rain? After years of seeing blood spilled on the battlefield and almost losing an eye this is still the saddest excuse for an armed force I've ever seen! I'm disgusted beyond belief that an old sack of bones like me, with a back that won't stop aching, can still dance around you like a fly around a pile of dung! Thank the Dragons I quit the service so you useless morons don't tarnish my name with this pathetic display!"

"W-What the fuck do you want?!"

Tossing the man, Jet made the guard sit down in front of him to drive home just how much he's being looked down on.
"What I want to know is why you decided to crack open the skulls of a few plebeians just because of a little dancing. Or better yet, how you dare to do it when it's clear you're not "guards" of the realm but rather petty criminals, as you couldn't defeat a stiff breeze, much less repel any sort of hostile force. And you better answer me quick, before I drag you out of the city myself and beat some sense into you, or the soul out of your chest!"

"The satrap will have your head for this!"
The guard cursed as he struggled with the dust his landing whipped up.

"The satrap?"
Jet spoke out loud. But deep inside he realized this was not just some overzealous peacekeepers abusing the citizenry. This little pissant wouldn't just casually threaten someone with the local governor, unless he was directly involved already. Otherwise he'd have to be notified and heads would roll for troubling him with such a minor incident.
"Who's the satrap here?"
Deep down he begged it to be anyone but a member of House Mnemon.

"Cathak Jirobo, you ingrate!"

Jet sighed with relief. It's only a Cathak. He can deal with those. But this bodes ill. House Cathak having a deep rooted warrior culture and being one of the most militant houses usually reserves "esteemed" positions like that of Satrap for those they deem "failures", i.e. anyone not a soldier. If his suspicions are right, the governor could prove to be quite a nuisance. But he had to be sure. So he drew his firewand and pointed it at the Black Helm.
"And why did the satrap order the violent suppression of the crowd?"

The guard's attitude changed swiftly as he started fearing for his life.
"I-I don't know! I swear! He just doesn't like it when people start gathering!"
The pieces started falling into place. Food shortage in a farming settlement, rampant poverty, the satrap fearing congregations. House Cathak was never concerned with things that don't involve fighting. They are draining this satrapy, and likely many others, dry in preparation for the coming succession war. And the satrap is fearing rebellion from the discontent citizens.
>>
"I see. Thank you."
He holstered his firearm and turned his back to the guard as he left.
"This disguise is pretty good."
He thought to himself.

"Want me to commit it to memory? You know, for future reference."
Markolab replied.

"Actually, that's a good idea. Please do."

"Done. So, what now?"

"Nothing. I've no desire to pursue hostilities with the satrap or House Cathak. And thanks to my disguise they won't know that it was me who humiliated their men. So unless they do something to me personally I can just lay low. But we'll leave first thing in the morning. Don't want to sit on this powder keg longer than I need to."

"Uh-huh. Makes sense. But by "doing something to you", do you mean "arresting your sister"? Because that's what they are doing over there."
Jet jerked his head to the side where Markolab was guiding him and true enough, he saw his sister and wife being escorted away in what appear to be bathrobes, by a large squad of Black Helms. And Jet felt his blood starting to boil.
"Careful. There's about twenty men. You're good but not that good. And by that I don't mean you couldn't beat them to a bloody pulp and swoop the women off their feet. But they'd definitely notice something off about you. Like your anima burning brighter than a bonfire. And I don't need to remind you that when that happens your disguise will also melt away."

Jet glared with murderous intent at the people dragging his sister and wife away.

>"The Satrap will pay for this!"
>He'll wait for the night and break them out of confinement
>NOBODY gets away with laying a hand on his family!
>Custom
>>
>>6066594
Well shit... I don't know what to do, do we go Karen mode now?
>>
>>6066594
This depends, Entirely, on if these fuckers act inappropriately.

>Shadow them until they reach confinement. Keep note on the manner in which they are treated.

>If merely imprisoned, go to the Satrap and demand they are freed or we'll butcher him or they are bringing down the wrath of mnemon by imprisoning one of their scions.
>If mistreated, abused or otherwise acting inappropriately, we're going to blow off some torment by turning the garrison into a saw trap/charnel pit. THEN the Satrap.
>>
>>6066620
Hell, if we want to conceal our issue even better, we can sabotage several posts and gates, rally a bunch of the people in the town to a riot and then have them storm the manor/prison.

Let the peasantry die, our hands are obscured and it is all believably "Jet using his social skills to cause chaos again"
>>
>>6066594
>Custom
Take on the appearance of a senior black helmet and tell them to drop everything because some one-eyed lunatic beat up the guards who went to suppress the dance gathering and theres injured.
>>
>>6066620
>+1
>>
>>6066626
I like this, but I feel that in this small city all the Black Helmets should know their officials, and we don't know the appearance of some of them to fool the guards. There's already some crazy guy with a scar doing dumb shit and pointing with a firestick to the guards, it would be weird there being two now
>>
>>6066754
Hmmm cover his face in wounds or blood or something? Muffle it through a 'broken' nose and hope that's enough.
>>
He steeled himself to keep his impulsive thoughts in check. Acting hastily could prove to be disastrous in this situation. Rather he decided to trail the guards to see where exactly they are taking the girls, or rather what they do once there. But that was easier said than done. He had two disguises he could take. Neither of which were ideal in this situation. He'd need to make yet another one, which would push him even closer to the brink where his essence would start radiating outward.

"Here's a thought. You already have a third form to take. And it wouldn't even cost you any essence to maintain..."

His true form. The thought of using it did not cross Jet's mind. In the years since he became a Green Sun Prince he stayed disguised pretty much all the time. He liked it that way, it helped him ignore his true nature. But it was also a dangerous move. If people realized what he was it could be disastrous. Markolab however was adamant that unless they thoroughly examined him most people would simply write him off as a little weird at a distance, or slightly mutated at worst. There was also one factor which complicated things. In his thug disguise he made himself some ragged clothes to better sell the image. But the dynastic clothings were real. He'd need to get changed, lest someone identified him based on his outfit.

He looked to the side and saw some vagrants who were not bothered enough by the Black Helms to scurry. One of them was wearing a yellow, long sleeved cloak with a shroud. It was an attire commonly worn by travelers, as it was thought to bring good luck on long journeys. Jet approached him quickly and knelt down beside him whilst waving around a paper note.
"Hey. You. I'll give you one koku for your cloak!"

The man briefly stared at the brute towering over him. At first he thought this was a joke, but once he realized the sincerity of the offer he accepted it without hesitation. One Koku is approximately the monthly income of an average peasant in the Realm. Jet would've offered less but he did not have the time to haggle with the vagrant. Once the exchange was done he put on his newly acquired article of clothing and its previous owner ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Someone must've noticed the homeless man running however, as a guard approached Jet shortly afterwards and grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Hey! Hold it!"
The man turned him around but apologized as soon as he saw Jet's face.
"Ah. Sorry sir. We're searching for two fugitives. One with red hair, and another with a scar on his face. Have you seen either of them?"
>>
With his green eyes the infernal answered.
"No ser. But I'll make sure to notify the guards if I see someone like that."

"Thank you. Have a blessed day!"

Jet cursed under his breath that the man was wasting his time and ran where he last saw Kaya and Ena before they left his field of vision. Luckily his sister had been pretty obviously resisting arrest so they are actually moving rather slowly with her. Still, they have spears pointed at her so she's forced to obey their commands. He wondered why they wouldn't just break out but he guessed that the girls did not wish to make a scene and instead chose to comply with the authorities. Well, it was probably Ena who decided that and Kaya is simply following suit.

He kept tailing them until the girls were taken into the constabulary, which was just an open field with several iron cages. But the place was not unsecure by any means. Several archers watched the surrounding area from wooden towers. Guards patrolled the block with spears, swords and other implements of war. There were even some guard dogs if the barkings were any indication. Worse yet, a man showed up clad from head to toe in heavy, red jade artifact mail and a direlance on his back. Quite an impressive arsenal, especially in such a backwater city.

The man handed over two bundles tied up tightly with twine.
"Your clothes."

"About fucking time!"
Kaya shouted at the man.
"Who in the Empress’ twat do you think you are?! You dare intrude on two dynasts during their visit to the bath house and drag them across the street?! Heads will roll for this! No, scratch that! Your balls will roll for this! And pray the great houses don't hear of this, lest we squish your entire bloodline like a pimple on our asscheek!"

"You've been detained as per the Satraps instructions. We received reports of a red haired man inciting violence on the streets of the city, one whose description eerily matches yours-"

"Jet..."
Ena muttered.

"You will tell us exactly who you are and what your purpose is. Should your answer be satisfactory you will be immediately released and issued a formal apology by the satrap. The sooner you cooperate the sooner we can end this. Who are you and why are you here?"

"We are scions of House Mnemon and House Ledaal! And we don't owe you shit, least of all an explanation! We're Princes of the Earth and do as we fucking please! Now be a good little tool, open this cage and start licking my boots before I decide to stop playing nice and break down these bars!"

"Go ahead. We're already sitting on a major political incident as two members of a great house strode in unannounced and started disrupting the peace in Cathak territory. If word of this gets out it's you who will be punished. And if you start acting violently you'll receive more than just a slap on the wrist. Now tell me. What is your purpose and who are your accomplices? Who's the dancing man and the thug?"

"What thug?"
>>
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The man shook his head.
"Perhaps a night in the cell will have you come to your senses. Tomorrow you will give us your names and why the great houses sent you. Or else..."

The man left them and as Jet continued to follow him he could hear Kaya voicing her irritation to Ena.
“There. Can I stop playing nice now and finally get out of here?”

“No! Do you WANT to start a political incident?”

“Yes?”

“Urgh. How are you two related?!”

Jet wanted nothing less than to break them out. But doing so without alerting anyone or alerting the girls to his true nature would be borderline impossible while they are under constant surveillance. So he focused on their captors and what he could do about them. The dragon-blooded headed to a rather tall pagoda at the center of the city, which must serve as its administrative center. Given traditional Realm architecture, the satrap would be located at the top level and that’s most likely where the man was headed.

He turned his attention to the soldiers patrolling the streets and their schedules. He waited until an opportunity presented itself when the guards had their backs turned and no commoners were looking in his direction. Then he touched the smooth wall of the building. Filaments of quicksilver sprouted from his palm, like tiny roots. Similar to lichen they gain purchase on the tiniest of crevices in the wall and allow Jet to scale it with minimal effort. Even when he reached the underside of one of the roofs he was able to walk upside down and over its edge. But he had to climb fast, lest someone spotted the strange man in yellow robes making his way up the Satraps office.

Finally he reached the top and hid under one of the windows where he could hear the conversation going on between the men he was trailing and the one who he presumed to be the governor.
“Have they said anything?”

“Not yet. They are understandably furious. Are you sure this is wise? They are dynasts after all.”

“Do not question me, Gourd! The peasantry is just about ready for a revolt, then three or four outsiders from the Blessed Isle show up and start causing a ruckus? They are spies our enemies sent I tell you! Here to disturb our satrapies to take a stab at House Cathak! Get everything you can out of them!”

The man hesitated however.
“I know it’s not my place to say, but if the situation is already so stressed wouldn’t it be about time to ease up on the taxes? The people are just hungry. If we didn’t demand so much from them I’m sure-”
>>
“Easy for you to talk. You’re not the one whose neck House Cathak is breathing down upon! You’re a warrior Gourd, they like you. Despite the fact that you’re a threshold bumpkin that was just adopted into the family. Meanwhile I was laden with this task because I had the misfortune of not exalting. And now it’s MY head that they’ll have if I don’t produce the results they expect! So please cousin, stick to what you’re good at, killing things. And I’ll try to herd cats a bit longer. Make the girls talk. Have them reveal their accomplice. If not, kill them.”

“K-Kill? You can’t be serious! That would-”

“Not do anything. They have no official papers. We’ve received no word of their passing. They are not on official business. Meaning nobody will notice if they disappear. Do not let your softness dictate your actions, Gourd. They are here to destroy us. Remember that.”

“As you wish, cousin. But I’ll keep praying they speak.”

“You do that. I’ll give a call to our informants to see if they can’t track down our missing dancer.”

Jet felt his heart sink. Creation really has gone mad in the absence of the Empress. Everyone is ready to jump at each other’s throats like rabid, starving dogs at the slightest provocation. And Markolab is delighted by this.
“Well they do seem a bit on edge, don’t they?”

“How do I get out of this?”

“You’re asking me? You got the body, buddy. Either get going and hope you can run for the hills fast enough with the girls or get ready for one hell of a tough sell as you try to explain to this nutcase that you’re not a spy sent here to undermine a literal nobody. Or…”

“Or?”

“Or quit sitting on your own arms and show these maggots what happens when they cross a real Prince of the Earth!”

>”I suppose there’s no reasoning with these people.” (Fight)
>”Get Kaya and Ena, get to the cart, make a run for it. How hard could it be?” (Flee)
>”No. I refuse to make an even bigger mess. We can resolve this like civilized people.” (Talk)
>Custom
>>
>>6067420
>”Get Kaya and Ena, get to the cart, make a run for it. How hard could it be?” (Flee)
>>
>>6067420
Choices choices.

We can probably get away, if they send a serious pursuit it would have to include actual exalted with goons. Hostile entity down the line unless it collapses anyways. If it endures then we leave knowing its troubles to mess with it later. House Cathak gets a report of the gang being out here and a political incident from dynasts sneaking in, causing a scene, and then busting out. Reporting it is a good excuse for him to get some breathing room, or maybe it makes him look incompetent and he keeps it to himself?

Jet is great at talking-no-jutsu so he could probably swing these two? But revealing himself they will see the man with red hair who started the dancing. The instant hostility making it rather difficult to get a word in. They also see some dude who just climbed up or snuck through the entire tower like an assassin and call in more guards who strain the situation and Jet's essence usage even further as he has to influence even more people who are even more hostile. Win and they could probably leave, or spend a little while here and fix the problems with big brain bureaucracy Jet finding a solution to make a potential friend/ally if we want. But if it fails we can commence fighting but then they absolutely have to die or else his identity is blown.

Fighting would be pretty fun. It'll be against an exalted warrior with equipment, and whatever guards they can get up here. Kill these two and this Cathak satrap city probably falls apart into chaos. Theres some opportunity there.

Fun other option but Jet has no stealth and at the limit for taking forms, would be to sneak in and maybe use his blood to poison some of the governor's wine with his mercury blood? Could be pretty hard to actually kill someone without it being apparent the wine is tainted. Plus the exalted warrior would live and probably report it and cause an incident. Fun to think of though.
>>
>>6067420
>Custom: Slink into the office and reveal ourselves with a laugh. "On that score you are wrong, lay a hand upon either of then and it will be the last insignificant action you ever take.

Satrap! Satrap! I was just on my way here to ask you to release my charges. They are travelling with their unexalted familial relation, much like you but not stuck in a backwater, and I decided I liked the music on the street. I am aware you do not fully comprehend your significance, or lack thereof, so I will merely make things startlingly clear. Unless you wish to deal with 2 suddenly uncooperative dragonblooded and a 2nd circle demon, as well as my summoner if they are harmed, you will make a wise decision and drop the matter without mentioning me then we shall depart.
Or you can tell your cousin to try and harm me, in which you will die swiftly and violently, probably followed by himself. I caused chaos with a dance, Imagine what I can do to two of you with violence."

Threaten em and then give them an out.
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>>6067420
>Go to the satrap cousin right at the entrance and reveal ourselves to him AND ONLY HIM, make a improvised secret meeting where we talk before he takes us to the satrap

Just appearing out of nowhere will shake him up and being willing to talk. By all accounts were unarmed, and we can say from the guards we ran, followed the guy and waited for him to come out so we could talk in private.

We just explain to him we just got married and this was just a romantic escapade with our wife, and our sister just came here by herself as our "guard". We request a secret and quiet meeting with the Satrap to explain to him, and then after he lets his guard down we just play a little game of "we're connecting the dots" and tell how fucked he's going to be on the long run on this city. BUT he's lucky he found himself with the best on his class and a genius on commerce, so, if he stops with his bullshit, let us go and don't tell anyone, we can take a look to the accounting books, make a plan for a few months so things can get more smooth and we leave him by himself. Eventually he might fuck up again, so we go like "if in a future you don't know what to do and need our help, we can come and take a look at your finances to help you again, but the next time won't be free"

He's crazy and clearly going schizo mode, so, if we can ease him up and show a solution for his trouble is going to be good. He's more scared of his family than from a couple of dynast who he can easily kill, so I think this angle is better
>>
>>6067971
Supporting this.
Gourd atleast seems like a straight laced warrior who isn't having a mental breakdown. Focusing on him should be a lot easier even if he is an exalted warrior. He already has doubts about what the other guy is doing too.
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>>6065701
HYPE. The first thread was fantastic, I can't wait to see what becomes of the second one.

>>6067971
I'll agree with this. If we can subvert Gourd we can have this paper-pusher eating from the palm of our hand in short order.
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>>6067971
Fine, I'll change >>6067679 to support.
>>
>>6067971
This seems to have gained some traction.

Roll 1d20
First 4 considered
dc 9, crit 14
and because of the custom post you enjoy a +2 on your final score
>>
Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>6068552
>>
Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>6068552
Cmon, 12 or higher
>>
>>6068571
good job
>>
Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>6068552
Rool
>>
Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>6068577
Goddamn!

>>6068552
Rollan
>>
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“Well? Are you listening?”

“Yeah. I just don’t like the options you’ve given me.”

“Oh come on! Look! They got your girl, your sister and they ruined the good vibes you made! You have every right to turn this into a bloodbath of legendary proportions!”

“Yeah. Right. And if I start going on the warpath how am I going to explain what happened to half the city? Besides, I remember you mentioning not once how discretion is one of our greatest assets.”

“Yeah but I’m BORED!”

“Well suck it up. I’ll handle this. Peacefully if preferrable.”

“You’re no fun.”

Jet watched a bit more as Gourd excused himself from the presence of his cousin and took his leave. He did not bother too much with subtlety this time, he could not afford to lose track of the man. So he surveyed the area in search of a spot not being observed and he jumped down from the tower on top of a nearby building. The crash and subsequent shattering of roof tiles would’ve alerted many nearby, so Jet shot out a pair of roots from his foot before landing and as they swiftly but gently secured a footing for him he gradually slowed himself down. Thankfully it appeared that nobody witnessed his little stunt so he was able to jump down from there into an alley without trouble.

He kept tracking Gourd through the streets. It wasn’t hard, given his brilliant red armor and the prominent horns on his helmet. He trekked through half the city before arriving at a rather impressive looking building. Though smaller than the governor's office, it was no less opulent. Jet waited a little while, observing the place from a distance until he gathered his courage, jumped over the stone fence surrounding the compound and rushed in through one of the windows, which his roots opened easily from the inside once they found a slight opening. He was squatting on the windowsill, thinking he had performed the infiltration flawlessly when a sliding door slammed open with Gourd standing there, polearm in hand and still wearing his red jade armor.

“I was wondering when you were going to show yourself.”

“Since when?”

“I’m always on guard in case someone tries following me home. I don’t know who you are but my guess is you’re with those two outsiders. But whoever you might be, you’re under arrest in the name of the satrap.”

Jet threw up his hands with a sigh.
“You’re free to take me in. But wouldn’t you rather know who you’re dealing with?”

“You can save your explanation for the satrap.”

“I don’t know about that Gourd. I’d much rather talk with you. You seemed much more level headed than your cousin back there.”
The tip of the exalts Dire Lance quivered. He seemed so stoic, so confident up until now. But now he’s shaken a bit.
“I understand of course. He must be overworked and mortals tend to crack under pressure. I sympathize. Which is why I came to you. I’d rather not burden him any more and make him… snap.+
>>
Damn. I did not realize the random image I got was ai sloppa. That's hideous
>>
“What do you want?”

“Just to clear things up so we can both go our separate ways without a major incident between the houses. My name is Mnemon Jet. Or I suppose that’s now Mnemon Jet of House Ledaal. You see I had my marriage recently and we were on our way to our honeymoon with my wife, Ledaal Catala Ena. The very loud girl you had the pleasure of meeting is my sister, Mnemon Kaya. She came with us as a bodyguard, though I’d rather say she’s here to mooch off of us.”

“And you expect me to believe any of that?”

“I’m expecting you to be reasonable. Even if I’m lying, you already caught us. If we’re spies, we failed. We’ll leave without a word, nobody needs to know, nobody needs to get involved and you’ll be richer knowing that two houses have their eyes set on you. Of course I’m not lying but I don’t expect you to just go along with what I’m saying. I’d be disappointed if you did, actually.”

“Hmmm.”

“Here are your options. At least how I see them. You may arrest me and take me to your cousin, and then you can pray he doesn’t mangle the case and bring much more attention to your city than needed. You could let me and my family go and I promise you’ll never hear from us ever again. Or…”

“If you’re waiting for me to ask what is it, you’re wasting your time.”

“You’re no fun. Lastly you could take me to the Satrap, arrange a private meeting just between the two of us. Not as prisoner and official, but as equals.”

“Why would I-”

“So that I may explain myself to him, and tell him exactly how fucked he is.”
Gourd looks like he’s just about ready to attack at the obvious threat but Jet lowers his hand to calm him down with a dismissive hand wave.
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying I’m going to do anything to you. You’re doing it yourselves. I’ve been here for less than a day and I can see how dire the situation is. Tensions are already high with the rabble due to the food shortages and overtaxation. I suspect it’s only going to get worse. Luckily, the Dragons blessed you on this day as it just so happens that THE top graduate of the Spiral, specializing in economics, decided to pass through your city and he’s offering to take a look at your finances and help correct them… In exchange for overlooking a minor slight on his part, of course.”

“I…”

“Your cousin needs help, Gourd. He will not be able to keep things under control for much longer. You must help him before it’s too late.”

The lance is slowly lowered as Gourd gets lost in his thoughts.
“He’s a… proud man. A good man but a proud one. He’d take it as a failure on his part.”
>>
“He IS failing!”

“And what do you know about that? He’s a dynast from birth and he carries himself as such. He worked his whole life as if he’d be chosen one day. But it never happened. And now he feels like he has to prove himself, that despite his shortcomings he’s still somebody. Do you know what that must feel like?”


Markolab’s voice rang in Jet’s mind.
“If only he knew.”

He sets the lance down, its prominent tip pointing upward.
“I was a farm boy, who rode horses all day. I never expected to be anything. And now look at me? I’m standing where he should be. And he resents me for it. He’d never accept help from me… or you.”

“You’re making a mistake, Gourd.”

“Maybe… But we all make mistakes.”
He sighs.
“I’ll let your wife and sister go. Jirobo will be furious but I’ll weather it. But you’ll need to leave immediately. No questions asked.”

“Hmph. Can’t say I agree with your decision. But I’m not going to complain.”

Jet stepped forward to offer the man a handshake as thanks but Gourd stopped him.
“Just one more thing. Are you sure you could fix the problems of the city?”

“Top student. I wasn’t bragging.”

“Then just in case the trust I place in my cousin is misplaced… could I call on you for aid? You know, a favor for a favor.”

“It’s going to be much harder to fix if things get even a little worse…”

“Is that a problem for a top student of the academy?”

>No (Agree to help him in case he needs it)
>Yes (Refuse)
>Custom?
>>
>>6068762
The Wyld reaches its claws deep in unexpected places...

>>6068774
>No (Agree to help him in case he needs it)
There's no reason not to pocket a favour.
>>
>>6068805
Oh yeah. Now that you mention it, Sloppa is a perfect representation of the shit that goes on in the Bordermarches
>>
>>6068774
>Not an issue.

Easy, we get what we want and thats it.
>>
>>6068811
Imagine standing against a swordsman and he morphs into an undulating sprawl of lines and colour that match a man's shape but are simply wrong. The terror is beyond description.
>>
>>6068774
>No (Agree to help him in case he needs it)

Glad we could take care of this. Though combat would have been fun too, and the chaos of the city losing its governor and dragonblooded warrior.
>>
>>6068774
>No (Agree to help him in case he needs it)
>But make it clear that, unless he needs another favor like this again, the next time they need some other commercial miracle, we're going to ask to be paid, it's our profession after all
>Also tell Markolab something like "The best part of me being "boring", is that when I finally want to bash some skulls you're going to enjoy it even more"
>>
>>6068774
>No (Agree to help him in case he needs it)
>>
>>6068774
>No (Agree to help him in case he needs it)
>>
>>6068774
>No (Agree to help him in case he needs it)
>>
"No, it isn't. And that's not what I was saying. Merely that you better be ready for some drastic measurements if or when the time comes for it."

"I am."

"Good. So does that mean we have a deal?"

"Swear it. Swear it on your name in front of the dragons and we do."

"Sigh. I, Mnemon Jet, solemnly swear before the Immaculate Dragons to provide my assistance to you, should you call upon it, in case the city needs guidance with its economic situation. There. Happy?"

"Yes. Very."

"Good. But know that this is a one time thing. Mess up again and I'll be expecting compensation in exchange for my services."

"Of course. But I hope there won't be a need for that. In fact, I'd love it if I never needed to call on your favor. But I don't believe we live in hopeful times like that. But enough of that. Come. I'll take you to your family."
Jet followed Gourd back to the prison grounds but just before entering the area the dragon-blooded stopped and handed Jet a key.
"Here. This opens their cell. Make sure to leave it in the lock and spare me a trip to the blacksmith. Oh, and the items we confiscated are in that tent. Make sure to collect them."

"I'm not sure they'll just let me waltz in and break out your prisoners."

Gourd let out a chortle under his helmet.
"Just wait. You'll know the opportunity when you see it. Wait here."
The red armored exalt left Jet for a few brief minutes and came back running, followed by the sound of a bell being repeatedly struck. An alarm.
"Fire! There's a fire! Men! Come! We need to put it out before it spreads!"

Jet looked over his own shoulder and saw smoke rising above the nearby buildings. The madman actually lit a fire. It was an oddly elegant solution, as it not only drew away all the soldiers on guard duty but also gave an excellent explanation for Gourd as to how his prisoners escaped. Jet smirked and watched patiently as the last of the guards left before dashing in. Kaya and Ena gave him a surprised look as he started fiddling with the lock.
"JET?!"

"Quiet! We need to hurry! They won't be distracted for long!"
The lock opened with a satisfying "clank" before falling to the ground with the key still inside.
"Your items are there, quick!"

The girls rush in to snatch up whatever they can and they start following the infernal back to their cart outside the city's perimeter. Thankfully the fire drew most of the citizens attention, including those meant to be on guard duty so they had no problem leaving. Without missing a beat they got their horses up and tied them to the cart before taking off in a mad dash.

Finally, once it seemed like they safely escaped, Kaya and Ena gave Jet an inquisitive look.
"Thanks for the save, Jet. But we had things under control."

"I saw. You were very in control in that iron cage."

"Hey! We just didn't want to make a scene-"
>>
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"What Kaya is trying to say is, thank you. Unfortunately the holding cell had enchantments on it that made it... difficult to escape. So we were waiting for them to release us. Also we hoped to avoid an incident. By the way, how exactly did you manage to get the key? And did you cause that fire?"

"No. And I didn't get it. It was given to me. I got lucky and managed to convince that man in the red jade armor to let you go, in exchange for a favor."

"What favor?"

"I don't know Kaya, I'm sure he'll tell me when he wants to turn it in. Hopefully we can get far enough away that it will never come. But I'm not holding my breath 'til then."
They fell silent afterward and Jet focused on the road.

"Nice cloak by the way."

"Thanks Kaya, it was very expensive. Speaking of clothes though... why were you naked when they brought you in?"

"We went to the bath house."

"Typical..."

The trio went as far as their horses could take them while the sun was still shining down upon them. Deciding that it was safer to not move at night they made camp and rested. In his sleep Jet was tormented once more by strange dreams. In it he saw Gourd of all people, standing behind him whilst he, covered from head to toe in resplendent golden armor, faced four units of dragon-blooded, twenty in total, in combat. The fight was brutal, by his standards anyway, yet it took no effort to dispatch them all. He was able to send each unit flying with one punch each, and it did not even have to connect.

"They are not up to standard."

"My lord, I assure you of their quality myself. Each of them is from my bloodline and I oversaw their training personally."

"No. It's not an issue of training. No. 2 and No. 4 of the Third Unit have troubles with their anima. Essence flows irregularly through their chakras, causing motonic fluctuation. I could see deviations as high as 0.000000001 from the universal standard of other Dragon-Blooded. Pantera!"

An adolescent boy darted across the entire manse and showed up in his shadow with such speed it looked as if he used sorcery to teleport.
"My lord?"

"Collect bio-samples from each of these newbloods and take it to the genesys lab for study. I suspect Gens Raicho is succumbing to this new "disease" that ails our terrestrial cousins."

"Y-Your excellency! I assure you there's nothing-"

"If I find out that you have been sabotaging my troops, my stock in such a manner..."
He could feel the mounting fury of a thousand volcanic eruptions rising in his stomach. He felt like he could die from it any moment.
"I will cull each and every single branch of your degenerate bloodline, before you irreversibly taint what is mine by divine mandate! The Deliberative be damned!"
>>
Jet snapped awake from the sensation of his chest being on fire. Though it was but a dream the pain from the burning fury in his chest felt oh so real even now. Panting and sweating he looked around, contending with the darkness of the camp to see if he woke the others up. When he was sure he was the only one awake he sighed with relief.

“You know I always wonder what goes on in that head of yours when you sleep. Seems intense.”

“A bunch of nonsense. Like most dreams. Jumbled messes with no real meaning.”

“Dreams are the stuff of wonder, magic and chaos. The stuff of the Wyld your kind was made to harness. Sometimes it’s random, other times prophetic. Impossible to tell which at the moment. Come oooon. Tell me. I could help you decipher it, you know. Was it something saucy?”

“As if I’d sacrifice the last bit of privacy I have to a demon.”

“Have it your way. You waking up every other day drenched in sweat and looking like you’re about to die is plenty amusing on its own.”

Jet scoffed at the demon and went back to sleep, or at least tried to rest as much as possible. He had naturally more vigor than a mere mortal, and if push came to shove he could stay up for an entire week, but it was still better to get plenty of rest. He got cranky when denied his daily dose of sleep.

The following day and the next few they kept to the road, not bothering to enter any settlements after their last experience. Instead they hunted and gathered what they needed (or poached as some might call it) and used natural fresh waters to drink and bathe. It was less than pleasant, definitely not something any of them were used to with their dynastic lifestyles. But eventually they stumbled upon a settlement that seemed to be a perfect fit for Jets desires. It was a small, insignificant little settlement, not even worthy of being called a town. There were only a few rudimentary houses of a box like design made of wooden logs and large stones. Judging by its size and the number of homes the place couldn’t have more than 10 or 20 families in total. It was not even present on any of the maps they had in their possessions. And best of all, it lied far enough from any large regional powers.

Small, insignificant and new.

“Perfect!”
Jet grinned as he surveyed the place.
“Now it’s only a matter of checking if it’s owned by someone!”

“FINALLY! I was getting tired of all this carting. Even if it doesn’t fit your stupid preferences, can we PLEASE stay here for a few days? I NEED civilization!”

“I-I agree with Kaya. It’d be nice to rest for a bit. So… maybe no disturbances this time?”

The two of them glared at Jet. In hindsight it wasn’t one of his brightest ideas to tell them he was the cause for their arrest. But it’s better to remain honest with each other.
“Fine. We can stay here for a bit. We need to restock anyway.”
>>
As he directed the cart his mind was already racing with the possibilities. He couldn’t wait to finally get his hands on a piece of land and make something out of it. But most of all he was interested in-

>its natural resources
>its lifeblood, the people
>its leadership and how easy would it be to supplant it
>Custom
>>
>>6069508
>its lifeblood, the people
>>
>>6069508
>its lifeblood, the people
>>
>>6069508
>Its lifeblood, the people
Souls are the most valuable resource of them all.
>>
>>6069508
>Its lifeblood, the people
What is a king without a kingdom?
>>
>>6069508
>its lifeblood, the people
>>
He was interested in the people, the lifeblood of any city. Not just their exact numbers, their make-up, their culture, religion and history. To avoid unnecessary tension one must study the natives and their customs. It was a core part of his curriculum regarding the exploitation of barbarians. The leadership of the place mattered little, they merely had to be removed. And the prosperity of a land was easy to improve. But its people needed to be studied to know how to use them properly.

"I don't get you Jet. Why are you so excited about a handful of peasants? Wouldn't it be better to find a more populous place?"

Jet smirked to himself as he cracked the reins of the horses.
"Smaller communities are ideal. Though they are more cohesive than larger ones, it's also much easier to learn the exact capabilities of each member. And once their talents are properly exploited and their home becomes prosperous, it's easy to subvert them with a large influx of foreigners looking for a better life. This place is perfect. Or, it looks to be."

As they move closer and closer to the settlement they come across a shepherd, a young boy who could only be considered an adult with a lot of generosity. He was resting under the shade of an apple tree while his sheep grazed all around him. Jet ordered the horses to stop and once he saw the plebian boy look up out of curiosity he called out to him.
"Hey peasant! What's the name of this place?"

The boy took out the blade of grass from his mouth and spat on the ground before responding.
"Peasant is your sweet grandmother's chafed kneecaps, you god-forsaken cunt of a bastard."
He said with such calmness one would think he recited and practiced that line his whole life for just this moment.

They all kept blinking from the shock and remained silent for a good couple of seconds before Jet finally formulated a response.
"My apologies, I meant no offense-"

"Yeah I bet ya didn't. Now, if you know what's good for ya, you'll turn that shitwagon around and go back where ya came from. Because we don't like strangers around these parts."

"How... charming."
Ena said, struggling to maintain her normally reserved persona.

"Well, thank you for the advice but I don't think we will. A good day to you."

They left the boy alone with his sheep and proceeded inward. Jet then turned to the girls.
"Looks like we might not get a warm welcome. Just to be safe, try to not speak with a High-Realm accent. And whatever happens, don't use your family names. We don't want them to know we're from the Realm. In fact, it might be best if we use fake names, Ena."

"Not me?"

"No. I know you'll just slip up."

"Hey fuck you!"

"Just stick to your own name. And no titles or honorifics either."
>>
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They all silently agree to keep their natures as Dynasts hidden as they park down their cart near the edge of the town and go in. The three of them split up, with each heading off to do whatever they please. Ena goes to reserve a room at the only inn in town, Kaya looks through the markets and Jet strolls down the streets, taking a good look at the homes and especially the gardens of the folk. His estimate of about 20 families was roughly correct, but it's obviously hard to guess if every household belongs to a separate family at a glance.

The place really is an insignificant little shithole by all accounts. There's a blacksmith, a tailor, a hunter who's also the tanner, a tavern and the square where most people went to sell whatever surplus they had, but many simply set up shop wherever they could and last but not least a temple, more of a shrine really. Presumably for some local protective deity. Mostly however the people pursued simple lives, growing food in gardens, raising livestock or doing other necessary work like chopping wood or mining stone and trading for which they lacked. Yet after the tour even Markolab started agreeing with the choice of location.

“Yes, this place indeed has potential. Good choice.”

“How so?”

“I’ll tell you later. However, I think you should stop.”

Jet did so purely out of curiosity and he realized that a person whom he thought was simply going the same way he did was actually following him. A young looking girl wearing plain and frankly ragged looking clothes approached him with a cheerful smile.
“Blessing of the gods upon you stranger!”

“Erm. Good day to you as well.”

“I hope the others did not trouble you that much. They fear outsiders.”
As they should. Most random travelers are usually scouts for bandits, or worse.
“I’m Eruka by the way. Welcome to Summer Valley!”

“Uh…”
Jet struggled for a moment. He was not used to warm welcomes such as this and thus he struggled to come up with a name.
“Nice to meet you. Call me Master Saffron. And no, we were not disturbed. But you seem awfully eager to engage people you’ve never met before.”

“Ah, that’s precisely why I wished to talk with you. I’m not used to new faces. And I don’t know why but I just know when I look at you that you aren’t a bad person, mister Saffron.”

“Just Saffron, please.”
Jet grumbled, whilst wondering if the girls affection was also a result of his infernal powers. But he wasn’t about to ignore a potential asset just because of that.

“As you wish. By the way Saffron, what brings you to our village?”

“Actually me and my family are looking to settle down.”

“Oh…”
Her cheerful expression sours.
“I wouldn’t recommend that.”

“Why?”

She looks from left to right and then begins whispering.
“Truth is the town has been attacked several times recently. I wouldn’t recommend you start a new life here mister.”
>>
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And there it is. Her intentions are now clear as ice. She saw the strangers with the wagon passing through town and thought she could hitch a ride with them. Clever. The girl is resourceful, despite her age.
“By whom, if I may ask?”

“Not who. What. Goblins. They come and raid the town every two weeks. I’d recommend you don’t linger here for more than three days.”

“I see. Thank you for the warning Eruka.”


Markolab chuckled.
“Oh this is great! Fair Folk? This far inland? You know what that means? No? There’s a Demesne they are occupying and turned into a Freehold, a beachhead they make so they don’t die. If there is a Demesne nearby, then this really is a prime piece of land! Or better yet… hmmm. You ARE a Fiend. You have diplomatic immunity in the courts of the fairy. Hell if you really wanted to you could bargain with the Raksha. But personally, given your immense lack of experience, I wouldn’t recommend that.”

>”I guess I should handle those then. I don’t like living next to rabid animals.”
>”Then this place isn’t as ideal as I thought. We’ll take our leave.”
>”Go visit these Fae to see if you can work something out.”
>Custom
>>
>>6070158
>"Then we should see how to arrange a meeting with these Goblins, and I also need everything you know about fairy customs and things in general about them"
>The plan is to make sure they don't make outright attacks and see what they want. If what they ask can be gathered easily we can maintain good relatioships with them as in commercial one: They come, we give what they want, and they give us something in exchange.
>>
>>6070158
>”I guess I should handle those then. I don’t like living next to rabid animals.”
>>
>>6070158
>”Go visit these Fae to see if you can work something out.”

Might be handy to have this Freehold and some Fair Folk around. More interesting. If we have to do anything weird or kill someone to keep our cover we could blame it on elves or whatever. We can learn any charm if I remember what someone said last thread, so that could be pretty handy to learn some Fair Folk magic. Or if they can make interesting stuff. Fair Folk elf wife? Though really Jet is for Kaya and Ena. But subverting them or having them as allies might be handy.

Also needing Jet gang's strength to fend off future goblin raids is kind of a convenient way to justify them staying, taking over the village, and changing things.

>Custom
Plan for those three days and wait to crush the next goblin raid, use the momentum of victory to take leadership of the village, and use then go bargain with the Raksha while they are weak from defeat.

If Ena can summon demons that might also be handy for the Seven Samurai montage of preparing the village for defense. At least thats the ideal in my eyes.
>>
>>6070158
>”Go visit these Fae to see if you can work something out.”
We are a diplomat par excellence, subverting the Fair Folk would be a wonderful test of audacity.
>>
>>6070158

>”I guess I should handle those then. I don’t like living next to rabid animals.”
>>
>>6070158
>”Go visit these Fae to see if you can work something out.”
>>
>>6070158
>”Go visit these Fae to see if you can work something out.”
>>
Lol, you guys are beyond screwed

>>6070204
Technically yes. Fiends are capable of learning Fair Folk charms. A good chunk of those are useless though for non-Raksha
>>
I cant believe I found the thread just to see you guys actually trying to play lawyer with the FAE of all things.
>>
>>6070435
I showed up five hours ago anon and to be honest it's perfectly in the nature of an Exalted to do dumb shit and expecting to walk away scott free.
>>
>>6070435
To be fair Infernals have access to Cecelyne charms, who invented laws. But funnily enough anons chose to double and triple doen on Szoreny stuff instead of dipping into her. Kek
>>
>>6070381

My Jet believes in giving chances. That said perhaps I was a tad overly ambitious. I saw a seed of a dream that would reach for the sun just like szoreny. But if in the true light of enlightenment it's actually just a big weed I guess uhhh violence? Salt their women, burn their cattle, and slay their fields.
>>
>>6070509
To learn Fair Folk charms you still have to meet the requirements for them. That bring... Graces. Living things don't have graces, they have virtues. To get a grace you must have a Raksha remove one of your virtues and fashion a grace out of it. You don't want that. For starters that means a core part of your being has been externalized and people can take it from you and exercise control over it. For example if they got your Valor (which is now a Sword grace) they can decide at any point to deny access to your own bravery.
Furthermore by becoming like a Raksha you'd no longer have the innate resistance to their shaping bullshit and they can drag you into their dream duels

Not ideal to say the least
>>
>>6070539
That sounds straight up looney toons. Unless the benefits were tremendous or the flavor of it was really seductive I can't imagine doing that lol. Maybe a pet fae folk instead? But if they can't survive without a freehold I guess that might also require some work.
>>
>>6070546
>>6070546
You see it clearly. Fair Folk are trope elementals, living stories. They can do whatever, whenever, however.
Graces are fake emotions these alien monsters have and use to try to figure living out. They are immortal and can't die thus have no Valor. They can conjure limitless wealth in an instant and don't see the point of Temperance. They have no long term goals or any goals actually so they can't use Conviction to stick to their path. And they see all other beings as figments of their own imagination and thus have no empathy or Compassion.

Raksha charms can be powerful. Like fashioning likitless wealth out of nothing. But it either doesn't work in stable reality or if it does it's still a fake nothigburger.
Raksha can pull metric tons of the finest gold and jewels out of their ass, enough to crash the world economy or they can conjure an army of a million strong. But it's all illusions. Good illusions, that can and will hurt you. But illusions none the less. If you can see through the veil of bullshit it can not affect you
>>
"I think I'll have a little chat with these Fair Folk then. See if I can get them to "cooperate" with my little plans."

"Hmmmm. Yes, yes. Very good... WHAT?! Jet! Buddy! My prince! My Mobility Assisting Device! Were you paying attention to any of what I said?! I know we have our moments of discord. We take jabs at each other, insult each other's progenitors and have our little dynamic of trying to piss each other off. But when I tell you to NOT do something I mean it! I do it for your sake! And in case you don't comprehend the severity of the situation, let me reiterate. DO NOT FUCK WITH THE LORDS OF CHAOS! Even the Yozi found it more prudent to just kill them on sight rather than deal with them in any capacity! Out of all beings, only the Elders of the First Age had the sheer balls, wits and guile to subdue the Fair Folk with oaths and even then the Balorian Crusade still happened! You my boy are NOT one of those luminaries! You're going to get us fucking killed! Or worse! I'm not too keen on being stuck in your hollowed out, empty carcass after the Raksha eat your soul, devour your dreams, and shit out your ambitions!"

"My people have kept Creation safe from the fair folk. The Wyld Hunt put plenty of their heads on pikes. I'm going to be fine."

"That's only because you assholes had the Sword of Creation aimed at them the whole time and they were afraid to make a move against you! Sigh. Fine... Fine! We'll do it your way. Not like I can stop you. But PLEASE Jet! Listen to me!"

"I'm listening. As long as you give sound advice."

"Good. Good. First thing first, leave this peasant girl and go back to that blacksmith we passed."

"Why?"

"We need iron. Cold iron. Not steel or any other refined metal. Raw, wrought iron. A horseshoe, a dagger, anything! If you must tear some nails out of the walls. It should offer you some protection against the fae."

Jet looked at the girl before him.
"Miss. Perchance do you have any possessions made of iron?"

"Eh?"
The girl, despite being unsure about Jet's request, took him to her home. She asked him to stay outside and after a few minutes of wait came out with a simple iron spoon.
"I know what you're thinking. It doesn't work as well as you think..."

Jet looked at the walls of the log house and how they were marred by claw marks. She carried a sorrowful expression on her face. He took the spoon and checked if it was indeed made of raw iron, it was. He then returned his focus to her.
"Thank you. May I ask what you mean by that?"

"My... father used to tell me to keep an iron horseshoe under my bed. He said it wards away evil fairies. The stories were not true."

That's all he needed to hear and all she could share without tearing open still fresh wounds. It's obvious by the run-down state of the home that there weren't enough people living there to maintain it. Her family must've been dragged away by those goblin raiders.
>>
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"Foolish girl."
Markolab chuckled.
"She thought merely possessing it was enough. That only offers protection from a few fae glamours. You need to beat them to death with iron to be absolutely safe."

"Enough. She had no way to know that. Anyway, will this be enough?"

"If you're good at killing things with a fucking spoon, then yes. But worry not. We only need it to make our job easier. And as insurance."

Jet nodded and pocketed the ironware away. As he was about to leave however the peasant girl stopped him.
"Wait! If perchance you leave the town, could you maybe-"

"Don't worry about it."
He looked around.
"Which direction do the goblins usually come from?"

The girl stared at him in disbelief before exploding in a rage.
"You can't be serious! You'll get yourself killed!"

"Which way?"

The girl simply refused to answer and stormed back inside before slamming the door behind her. Markolab urged his master to ignore her and started guiding him instead. He directed Jet's attention towards a particular patch of the nearby woods that not only was more lush and vibrant than the rest but also had a few streams coming out to the plains. Even Jet, with his limited knowledge of the arcane, knew what that signified. Those are telltale signs of a nearby Demesne, the one Markolab already noticed before. And according to the demon that's most likely where the fae have set up camp. So that's where he headed.

It took him about ten minutes to walk out of town, and another forty to get to the woods. He had seen trails leading to other parts of the forest, but not here. The locals most likely had their superstitions about that area and with good reason. Demesnes are confluxes of Creation's essence, their great power tends to warp their surrounding area to match the elemental alignment of the demesne itself. There are cautionary tales of men living in demesnes of fire and developing red hair at first, then red skin, then they'd turn into beings of living fire. Though this is a slight exaggeration these places of power hold many dangers beside slow mutation over many years, like greedy spirits all vying for its control.

This place was most likely a demesne of Wood, as the forest around here was strong. The trees were tall, girthy and healthy. Tree and plant roots ran all over the ground like a blanket of vegetation one could easily trip over. The one thing that did not match this hypothesis was that despite its vibrancy the forest seemed almost desolate. It was quiet, deathly quiet. No birds sang, no bugs or lizards scuttled around in the undergrowth and no small mammals rustled the branches of the trees as they moved about. There is a popular philosophical quandary that monks of the Immaculate Faith love to recite.
"If a tree falls but none witness it, does it make a sound?"
Well these woods provide a good answer. It's so quiet here that would a tree to fall anywhere it could be heard everywhere like thunder.

"This place is giving me the creeps."
>>
"Strange. Either the Fair Folk drove away all the animals or... or they enchanted all of them. Keep your eyes peeled Jet, I'll watch your back. DUCK!"

A mushroom behind him rose from the ground, alongside a great bundle of roots. Or at least that's what it looked like. In truth it was a diminutive creature, with an impressive gut, a prominent ear and a bizarre club-like tool in hand. A goblin. The creature had spiraling patterns all over its skin and its nose was shaped like a mushroom cap. As it laid down it perfectly blended into the environment to the point that not even Markolab could pick it out from the native vegetation. Jet crouched under its swing and got to see its alien weapon from up close. It had a handle with a crossguard, like a sword, and its head was a bizarre jumble of spikes made of wood, stained glass and crystals and the two ends were connected by a stiff line only a hair's breadth.

He shifts to the side, plants one hand on the ground and uses it to spin around and kick the goblin as hard as he can. He lands a clean hit and the foul creature goes flying with a guttural screech, which stops as its body collides full force with a tree trunk. Jet spins a bit more before he manages to stop and stand up, but when he does the goblin is nowhere to be seen. Where it struck the tree were now colorful lichen and beneath was a small pile of dirt he's pretty sure wasn't there before.
"What the hell? Where did it go?"

"You killed it. Goblins are only really a threat in overwhelming numbers."

"Yeah but where is it?"

He was expecting the usual malicious chuckle from his coadjutor but the demon only sounded worried.
"This is why I said you don't know what you're doing Jet. Because you don't. The Fair Folk aren't of this reality, Hell they are barely real at all. When one dies within the confines of Creation the gears of reality grind them to composite motes and incorporate them into the tapestry of fate. The vines? The dirt? There's your goblin. What's left of it. And it's only going to get worse as we go deeper in."

Jet froze. He couldn't make heads or tails of what was said to him. He gave up trying to comprehend it and shifted his focus on what he could.
"Hey, how come it attacked me? Didn't you say I had immunity?"

"Yeah. In the courts of the Fae. Does this look like a court to you?"

"Tch... then I guess I better find it."
>>
The search for the Freehold was more arduous than initially expected. He thought it'd be easy to spot the camp of a fairy but apparently they are quite good at using geomantic principles to hide their freeholds. Only by finding the actual entrance, which could be anything from a rock formation, a bunch of branches in an arch or a hole in a tree. And all along the way as he searched he kept being ambushed by goblins. Though they were annoying and could not be underestimated they did bring a certain ease for the infernals' demonic companion. Apparently the lack of other, more complex wyld creatures or even hobgoblins meant this band of Raksha was still small and weak. This however did not help Jet with his growing sense of unease and dread.

Finally after hours of wandering the woods he managed to find what he thought to be the gateway to the Freehold, which was a particularly large circle of mushrooms at the edge of a clearing.
"You sure this will work?"

"I've been saying from the start that this won't work, you stubborn bastard. But once you step through you should be safe, to a degree. I'll try to help but you need to do exactly as I fucking say! Got it? First off, do NOT accept anything. No food, no water, don't even sit down if offered a seat and don't accept a handshake! Don't give them anything either! Use that Saffron moniker. Do not attack them, no matter what they do! Do not even move in a way that could be interpreted as an attack! If they start harassing you, let them."

"Are you serious?"

"I am and you better fucking do as I tell you! And for the love of the Yozi be careful! Keep your eyes peeled and remember, you are real, they aren't."

"What does that even mean?!"

"Doesn't matter! Just keep repeating the mantra! I am real, they are not! The rest is up to your ego..."

"Argh! Fine, whatever! I'm going in!"

He stepped into the ring and as he stepped out towards the clearing reality peeled back around him like a veil, revealing a scene he had a hard time comprehending. The empty clearing was nowhere to be found, in its place stood a magical kingdom built out of the roots, stems, leaves and petals of plants and crystals, as if it popped right out of a fairy tale. Even the sky had a saccharin look to it, especially as it shifted in colors. Two dozen tiny, red-capped gnomeish creatures blew into flowers in their hands that let out noises like trumpets. One of them was hammering the belly of an overgrown frog that sounded like a drum.

“Hear ye! Hear ye! Another foul villain hath cometh to challenge our good Laerd Cumhaill, The Greatest Xia, Slayer of Evil, Bedder of Princess Effluvia and owner of the Proud Fungal Blade! Rejoice! For the fields shall be blessed by the shed blood of the wicked!”
>>
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One of the tiny creatures cried with a scroll made of human skin in its hand, and another overzealous one walked over to kick Jet in the shin and blow raspberries at him. However as it did one of the giant petals of a nearby house broke off and flew towards it at such speed it decapitated the diminutive pixie.

Jet stared at this mortified, and so did the other fae, even more so when his forehead opened up, revealing a black hole that dimmed the head-ache inducing color cascade of this world. Even their outfits, made of colorshifting leaves, became dull and gray. They shuddered as they looked at him.
“The House Builders… The House Builders… The House Builders…”
They repeated in a mantra.

“Markolab? What just happened?”

“The little one unknowingly violated the oath all Raksha are beholden to and paid the price. When it kicked you it violated your diplomatic immunity. Keep your caste mark lit and they won’t dare harm you, so long as you remember what I said. Now let’s go.”

With none to escort him Jet started walking towards the castle. The journey took far longer than anticipated and it made him realize that this place is far larger than the clearing led him to believe. It took him an entire hour of ignoring all distractions and marching steadily to reach the gates, where a pointy eared man awaited him, riding a horse made of stained glass and accompanied by six standard bearing child-like elfen things… and one mortal man.

“Behold! Laerd-”
The dead eyed man repeated the introduction the other gnomes did. Jet paid little attention to his words, he was more interested in the boys dimm eyes and the monotony of how he talked.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“They drained him dry. His dreams, passions, even his sense of self. It all lays in the gullet of the Fair Folk now. ‘Tis but a husk of a man, puppeteered by strings of gossamer and glamour.”

“Is there a way to fix it?”

“No.”

Finally the boy’s ravings about his lord end, and the fae raises a sword made of feathers.
“Good job squire! We may make a knight of you yet! Now-”
The fae turned to Jet.
“-speak Knave! What hast brought thee here? Hast thou cometh to challenge me or perchance to request hospitality?”

He ignored the Fae for now and turned to his demon for assistance.
“Does it not know?”

“It does. But the Raksha are creatures of story. It’s trying to lure you into its own narrative. Don’t let it do what it wants.”

>I’ve come to make an alliance
>I’ve come to bargain
>I’ve come to kill you
>Custom
>>
>>6070702
>"I've come to consult Laerd Cumhaill, The Greatest Xia, Slayer of Evil, Bedder of Princess Effluvia and owner of the Proud Fungal Blade, and discern how we might best advantage ourselves of each other. For I, the Loquacious and Sagacious Saffron, have heard stirrings in the deep and have need of his counsel. If thou art him indeed, in truth, I need go no further."
This was a baaad idea, holy shit holy shit holy shit. Maybe we can pull something out of this? If we're brazen enough and can hold our own.
>>
>>6070711
Hmm... or maybe playing into his nonsense is unwise? It would likely help with negotiating, but do we want to negotiate? I'm thoroughly spooked.
>>
>>6070711
We dont move it into his nonesense.

>>6070702
>I am saffron. I come to bargain.
>>
>>6070702
>"I have come for reasons that will remain my own. Do you often refer to visiting royals with such insulting terms? For that matter, I don't recall giving permission to refer to me at all. You took such liberties all on your own. Your own people have tried to attack me since the moment I arrived. A terrible breach of etiquette."
Deny his routine. Make him believe he owes us and needs to kiss ass to not pay the troll toll for this boy's hole.
Also, do NOT give him the reason for our arrival. Else he take it, literally.
>>
>>6070718
Hmm... good thinking, yeah. We don't want to consign our soul to the outcome a 4D semantics chess match with a motile kaleidoscope of lies. We're a bureaucrat, it's best we keep it to bureaucracy- safe and boring, with as little narrative ambiguity as possible.

>>6070702
I'm changing my vote from >>6070711 to-
>I've come to bargain
The Courtly immunity gives us some slack for faux passes but we cannot, I repeat, we cannot let our guard down.
>>
>>6070719
>+1
good idea, anon
>>
>>6070702
>I come to bargain

This was a terrible mistake but we ball anyway, didn't defied fate just to scurry away the moment we see knife ears.
>>
>>6070719
Hmm... damn, that is exceptionally good reasoning. Should we go with this? Refusing to tell him what our intentions are and placing the onus of hospitality on him, but then that leaves us vulnerable to his gifts. If he offers us refreshments or something, or even to go as far as a celebratory feast, we'd be endangering ourselves to reject it outright. I think we should keep it as simple as possible, if we're going to be here at all.
>>
>>6070727
We should just play it straight, they're creatures of stories leaning into them might as well fuck us in the ass and we're goddamn a bureaucrat not a used car salesman.
>>
>>6070728
True. The more I think about it, the more I agree. Let's keep it simple. If we're smart, we can probably leverage the fairies for a distraction down the line.
>>
>>6070702
>"I have come for reasons that will remain my own. Do you often refer to visiting royals with such insulting terms? For that matter, I don't recall giving permission to refer to me at all. You took such liberties all on your own. Your own people have tried to attack me since the moment I arrived. Axk terrible breach of etiquette."
>>
>>6070718
Ill change mine for this one.
>>6070719
>>
>>6070719
Hmm... on second thought, I like this write-in too much to disagree with it.

>>6070702
I'm going to switch my vote a third and final time to back this >>6070719.
>>
>>6070719
On that note, I'd like to actually make an addendum here.
Before saying or doing ANYTHING, run it by Markolab first. We have two minds in one body, we need to be taking full advantage of that. We might look a little slow or contemplative, but it's worth it in my opinion.
>>
So... this >>6070719 is what you want to go with?
An insult and trying to get him to believe he owes you?

Not criticizing or anything, just clarifying that everyone is onboard even with the non-greentext part
>>
>>6070927
Hmm... on third thought, again, as I've been inconsistent but the Raksha are DANGEROUS, I think I would rather go with >>6070721, as I was initially hesitant on the write-in and don't think it's a solid idea, as Markolab would run an intervention the second he sensed that thought in our head. Jet hasn't even killed a mortal sorcerer in battle yet and we're confronting a Fae Lord, we need to be on our best fucking behaviour. I've been wishy-washy on the votes but switching, in this instance, feels like common sense.
>>
>>6070937
To clarify, I don't think it's a solid idea in retrospect considering our character sheet. If we were powerful enough to leave Laerd Cumhail sweating I would be all for it, but we aren't, we're just arrogant and extremely good at mortal politicking, which is not in any way shape or form comparable to Raksha politicking. Jet is in too far over his head to comprehend the magnitude. I thought this would be an interesting segment and am all for any amount of risk, within (or without) reason, but I'm surprised Markolab even cooperated with this. The poor beetle/bastard. Imagine being a major demon and playing backseat driver to a superficially cautious yet overtly, internally arrogant consummate politician and scholar.
>>
>>6070939
Tbh he can't do much but scream and call you slurs. If you're stubborn enough to do stupid shit anyway his only option is to assist in a way you survive
And he did protest plenty
>>
>>6070927
What does Markolab think of the plan?
>>
>>6070955
He's not sure what Jet hopes to achieve
>>
>>6070956
Yo Loom, what about this:

>I'm not your enemy, oh Laerd Cumhaill, The Greatest Xia, Slayer of Evil, Bedder of Princess Effluvia and owner of the Proud Fungal Blade. I, The Sagacious Saffron, Blessed by Fortune, Beloved by the Meek and Weak, and Kin of Mercury, I'm but a traveler, both in the realm of Creation, this place, and who knows where other planes I might wanna travel on a later moment. I've followed the trace of some rascal Goblins who have been tormenting a small population, and before knowing I landed on your illustrious Kingdom, which I hope my presence doesn't offend yer sensibilities, even if I do not care myself. And with all being said and done, I'm leaving! May your Kingdom, your subjects, and you be blessed by fortune, unless any other goblin or creature may decide to go again to Creation to cause mischief. Chao chao!

I must admit, It was hard writing this with all the rules, and I feel that maybe I fucked it up a little at least lmao.

But from my understanding, we have to do something like this, right? We've come here and we're being called a Villain, and they're talking like in prose, so if we do the same like talking like in a children's book and calling ourselves all those good titles, and basically tell like in a story we're actually doing other stuff BUT being a literal villain of the story, we should be good, right?
>>
>don't get lure into its narrative
>Immediately gets lured into its narrative
Mucho texto
Also i think he can see through the traveler bullshit because we have a goddamn caste mark on our damn forehead making a freaking blackhole sucking the cascading colour with. Give him the fake name our infernal exaltation and we bargain that the occupants of this place will never come near that village(make it specific which village) ever again or harm them in anyway and he'll never see our sorry asses again.
>>
>>6071202
Thank you. I will use this as a direction then.
Now...>>6070719
This is good. Not great, but sufficient.>>6071141
This is a terribad idea so it won't be included

Please roll 1d20. No bonuses this time
With your custom prompt you have a chance at a critical success
First 4 rolls will be considered
dc: 14, crit: 19
>>
Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>6071213
WEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREALWEAREREAL
>>
Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>6071213
Rell
>>
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Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>6071213
I'M SORRY SENSEI BUT I MUST GO ALL OUT!
>>
Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>6071213
>>
>>6071219
>>6071221
>>6071226
Out of all the things to die to, we die to a knife ear named fart cumsnail
>>
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>>6071232
Thank you mysterious anon that has emerged from the shadows to save our bacon & eggs!
>>
>>6071232
NVM LESSSS GOOOOOOOO
>>
>>6071232
You guys are so lucky. That would've resulted in attempted gangrape and at least a new torso growing out of your asshole
>>
>>6071241
INDEED! For even if we fall, someone will get a chuckle out of our fuckup! For it is the nature of a Infernal to work with the setbacks as they're given.
>>
>>6071232
A stunning display of diplomacy.

>>6071241
Markolab is probably simulating tinnitus with his screams. By Malfeas, we need to stay clear of the Fair Folk until we're strong enough to hold our own.
>>
>>6071241
so the fae are degens as well ? damn. although considering what people have shown of this game, I shouldn't be surprised.
>>
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>>6071246
The Fae are the worst in every aspect.
One of their Grace, the Cup, is about understanding the needs and desires of others, so you can be their bottom and control them as they pound your p(b)ussy

>>6071244
Oh you're not out of the woods yet. And yes, Markolab could make diamonds with his sphincter right now if he had one.
The Fae are pretty much one of the only things that's a kill on sight for everyone, all the time, and mortal enemies usually cease fighting when they show up
>>
>>6071237
Home now. You are most welcome anon. I'll chalk this win up next to telling kaya she should just go stay with Ena instead of running off.
>>
>>6071252
>One of their Grace, the Cup, is about understanding the needs and desires of others, so you can be their bottom and control them as they pound your p(b)ussy
grace is their boon ?

>And yes, Markolab could make diamonds with his sphincter right now if he had one.
>The Fae are pretty much one of the only things that's a kill on sight for everyone, all the time, and mortal enemies usually cease fighting when they show up
zam
>>
>>6071384
No. Graces are aspects of their fake personalities, they are also physical objects that you can take from them and fuck them over.
A Raksha can have 5. But must have a Heart to be "real" and not just a figment of another Rakshas imagination
>The Heart
This is their "soul". Fae without Hearts have no motivation beyond what others give them
>Sword
Protects the hard. A Rakshas capacity for violence
>Cup
A Rakshas capacity to recognize desires and that others have them.
>Staff
The ability to recognize other people are real and not just figments of your imagination, so you can interact with them as equals.
>Ring
A Rakshas ability to create things separate from themselves. It's also their ego and self awareness. While the Heart gives them a Motivation to act upon, the Ring is their ability to say "This is who I am"

This is all fake pretend bullshit however. While these mirror the Virtues of real people it's all just a mask they use to gaslight others and themselves. While a Raksha with high graces can pass as a normal living being, at the end of the day they are still monsters of pure energy that make up a story. In their true form an Unshaped Raksha is a magical landscape, the people in it and the narratives they play out. "Once upon a time" bs. A Shaped Raksha (this nigga) is all that compressed into the shape of a person
>>
Jet's eyes shifted away from Cumhaill for a moment and onto his entourage, the six children dressed in queer uniforms that changed color as they moved and wielding halberds. He growled in his own mind at his coadjutor.

"I thought you said this would be a small freehold! This place is huge and there's a ton of them here."

"I said before I'm not an expert. I prefer not dealing with the Raksha at all. Better to kill them on sight. But this is consistent with what I know. This is about as big of a freehold as a single noble can make on its own. It probably broke off from its old court. And ignore the others. He's the only one that's "real". All the others are extras, background characters, part of the scenery. Tools and weapons it uses to write its story. Kill it, and the rest will simply cease to function or exist."

"But if I attack they will join in."

"Most assuredly. They are homunculi. The largest of the wee folk, bigger cousins of the poppet that kicked you. They serve as honor guards and majordomos of the ruling fae. The good thing is that there is usually a limited number of them. These six are probably all it has. But watch out for them. They are dangerous opponents, if a bit fragile."

"Okay. Thanks for the heads-up."
Taking a deep breath and clutching on the iron spoon in his pocket, hard, Jet looked at the Fae standing before him.
"My reasons are my own Laerd Cumhaill. I am Master Saffron and I am appalled by your questions. You address royalty visiting your realm in such manners? Knave? Villain? For that matter, I do not recall giving you the permission to address me at all. You have quite the nerve, taking such liberties all of your own accord!"

The fae started wagging its fingers.
"Dost thou not bear the stench of the House Builders? Doth thine essence not pollute this sanctuary with the vile wickedness of the Shadow of All Things? Face it, Master Saffron, you are the villain here!"

Jet leaned on Markolab once more.
"That name again."

"House Builders. It's what they sometimes call the Yozi. They view Creation as the house they built. And the Shadow of All Things is the title of The Ebon Dragon, his mark is what burns on your forehead."

"Keep your titles for yourself Laerd. Lest you choke on them. I carry the banner of the House Builders. Whilst your people invaded their home, attacked me and violated the ancient oaths by which you are beholden. Being vilified by you means nothing. Now I demand from you Laerd Cumhaill that you leave the occupants of Summer Vale in peace and do not come near the village! Never come near or harm its inhabitants ever again!"

Markolab screamed.
"NO! You stupid idiot! Bad terms! That means they can still enchant the people from afar!"
>>
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Jet realized his mistake and broke out in a profuse sweat. But before he could formulate a correction to his terms the Fae responded.
"And why should I do that? The House Builders no longer own their old home and carry no authority in Creation. You have no right to demand such. And it was not by my hand that I've been summoned. I was called here by the people of the village who wished to pay me tribute!"

"Tribute? You devour the dreams of men and make them your slaves!"

"Perhaps the same could be said of all lords. And since these people lacked one, I graciously provided."

"Your words are as empty as your soul. These mortals ill need a savior such as you. They demand a lord that can elevate them above heaven, me! I lay claim to these people. They are mine! By the right of the builders and my might!"

"Thine arrogance is eclipsed only by the darkness in thine soul Villain! But enough talk! I tire of these dealings. I've granted thine the audience I must. Leave this kingdom so that we may fight another day over the land! Unless thou canst offer a suitable offering in exchange for our placidity..."

Markolab grumbled.
"Phew. It didn't accept. Good. That means it's greedy and impatient. It wants to predate on the people unobstructed, rather than twist the deal in its favor."

"But what do I do?! This is insane! It's like I'm talking to an insane wall!"

"Exactly. Which is why I urged that you don't come here! The Raksha do not follow conventional logic. Dealing them is difficult and perilous with rewards that simply don't outweigh the risk attached. Which is why you kill them!"

Jet suddenly had an epiphany.
"Laerd Cumhaill. It appears we're at an impasse. We both want the same thing, lordship over the dominion. Are you willing to duel for it?"

The eyes of the fae glint with a myriad of shifting colors, revealing a ravenous hunger that gnaws at Jet's very soul.
"A challenge? Splendid!"
It brandished its feather sword with an elegant flourish, sending ripples of color and sound through the air.
"We fight one on one! If thou art victorious I shall acquiesce! But if I triumph, thou shalt come with me on a tour of the neighboring freeholds and proclaim before the fairy courts my superiority over yourself and the demon princes! And you relinquish your claims over the land! Agreed?"
>>
Jet glared at the Fae, sizing it up. He wasn't sure about the wisdom of this course of actions, but a fair duel sounded much more appealing than fighting the entire kingdom and all things in it at once. However Markolab had a different view of things.
"Wait! I got an idea... up the ante! Offer yourself as a slave if you lose, in exchange for a wish if you win."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"This is a great opportunity! One on one? It's perfect! Win, and demand its sword. Not its weapon! Its sword grace! Got it?"

"Why?"

"Take its sword grace and you gain control over its aggression. Destroy it and it won't be able to defend itself. Control it and you can deny access to it. And after its Sword is gone, its Heart will be free for the taking. Take its Heart, and it will do whatever you tell it to."

"Hmmmm."

>Accept the Laerd's terms. No modification
>Up the ante and wage your soul
>Offer him something precious in exchange for peace (what?)
>Bid him farewell and leave to prepare for the coming conflict
>Custom
>>
>>6071946
>Up the ante and wage your soul
If Markolab's for it, I'm for it. I trust the beetle's judgement.
>>
>>6071946
>Up the ante and wage your soul
WE BALL
>>
>>6071946
>Up the ante and wage your soul
We ball
>>
>>6071946
>Up the ante and wage your soul
Boom or Bust
>>
>>6071946
>Up the ante.

We can still just refuse tp abide by it, with our bullshit "make the Yongzi take the soul hit" bullshit.
>>
>>6071946
>Up the ante and wage your soul
>>
We have a pretty good consensus going on

1d20 again
First 4 accepted
Dc 12, crit 16
>>
Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>6072237
The Loom spins as our fists fly, and the Ebon Dragon soars overhead!
>>
Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>6072237
let's go
>>
Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>6072237
>>
Rolled 10 (1d20)

>>6072237
Rall
>>
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"I accept your bet, Laerd Cumhaill."

"Excellent! Then-"

"And I raise the stakes."

"What?"

With a flourish Jet smacked his own chest and proudly declared his intent.
"I wager my very soul! If you beat me I become your property! But if I win, you will owe me any one favor of my choosing!"

"What kind of fool dost thou take me for? You have no soul to wager as the pawn of the Demon Princes."

"Guess again. My soul is my own Laerd. Now do you accept MY challenge? Or are you too much of a coward to contend with me?"

The Raksha flashed a smile, letting his needle-like glass teeth show for the first time and he pulled out a featureless, reflective mask out of its robe before donning it.
"Then have at thee!"

His body erupted in a chiaroscuro pillar of dark and light essence, the pressure of which whipped up rainbow winds all throughout the magical kingdom. Even Jet felt himself pushed back by the display.
"That's an anima banner! What the hell?"

"Shit! A nishkriya mask! This was a mistake! Jet! Guard! Quick!"

The fae held out its feathery blade horizontally before pulling it back and throwing out a slash in front of himself. Jet only barely saw the attack coming, and were his joints not unnaturally flexible he never could've bent so far backwards to avoid it. Even then the slash managed to scratch the bridge of his nose just before he could bend out of the way. Now bent backwards he could see the extent of the destruction that was wrought. The trees, towers, windmills and even the clouds in the path of the attack were parted. Where presumably the edge of the Freehold laid was a gaping, rainbow colored wound in the sky. Jet felt shaken as Markolab tried to explain the situation to him. Nishkriya was the shinma of conflict, violence and destruction. So long as the mask was donned the fae relinquished its own identity, becoming an avatar of pure destruction. This Raksha may have been playing lord until now, but secretly he was waiting for his "villain" to show up so it may destroy it in glorious combat.

But there was something strange about the whole situation. Despite faced with such a destructive force Jet did not feel an ounce of fear. Far from it. His spine uncurled as he straightened his back and with a swipe of his thumb he wiped the drop of blood off his cheek. He was grinning from ear to ear.
"Markolab."

"Yes?"

"Is this Freehold sealed from the outside world?"

"Yes."

"And the mortals in here-"

"Are all lost causes. Why?"

"Just checking."

Though the wound on him had already closed, it still stung. The pain of it made him giddy with anticipation. For the first time since his exaltation he had nobody near him, and an excuse to no longer hold himself back. Slowly the chains that he placed on himself years ago, nay, in childhood started falling one by one. And using the pain inflicted on him as a conduit, he activated the Infernal Monster style.
"Retribution... will follow!"
>>
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The essence Jet meticulously kept locked down until now erupted from within him. The explosive burst and the green-black pillar of pure energy rising to the heavens was accompanied by the Infernals' manic laughter as his shadowy disguise melted away and sloughed off his skin, revealing his malfean glory. The contrast between the Anima Banners of the Raksha and him were like night and day. The Faes felt like another part of the scenery that was revealed, it felt natural and fit in. Meanwhile as Jets anima formed the head of a roaring, demonic beetle the spewing torrent of essence started warping the surroundings according to its own design. Nearby vegetation rotted or developed a fine, metallic patina, the few drops of blood that fell from his cheek started sprouting bloody vegetation and the nearby shadows started to dance, venerating the glory of the Yozi. Even the pristine yellow cloak on Jet's back was being altered, developing black flame and spiral patterns on it.

Though Cumhaill had his face obstructed by his mask, his reaction gave away his feelings. Threads of essence shot from his fingers, each one attaching itself to a Homunculi which he took control of and sic’ed them on the cackling infernal. This was an obvious bending of the rules, but since he was controlling them directly they were not "technically" combatants, but mere weapons being used. But as the six halberds came down on his head Jet did not falter. Four arms sprouted from his back, tossing aside his robe and each one grabbing one polearm. The last two Jet caught with his fleshy limbs and with a simple twirl altered the course of the weapons, forming a circle from the homunculi as he impaled each one with the weapon of the one next to it.

Jet jumped out from the ring of fae as they started turning into an elaborate shrub upon death and as he landed he drew his firewand with one hand and the silver spoon with another. He stared at Cumhaill the same way an eager bloodhound looked at the prey it's about to chase down and tear to shreds. He shot out from his position like a blast of fire from his wand and the Raksha just barely managed to jump high in the air before the Infernal could claw his eyes out with his silvery limbs. Blades of grass and flower petals followed Cumhaill into the air. With a flourish of his sword he cut each of the hundreds of plant parts into the shape of hornets and sent them against Jet. In response the Fiend simply raised his firewand and shot in the air, turning all those beautiful little bugs into fireflies.
>>
Normally a Firewand requires a long and meticulous reload after each shot. But his swift and nimble limbs worked in tandem, with three of them dividing the labor between each other. This let him reach an unprecedented rate of fire, with a shot being fired every second without pause. The Raksha first tried slashing the gouts of fire in twain but the sheer number of them was overwhelming him. Instead he slashed at the ground, sending more grass and spores in the air which he skipped away on towards his castle. Jet pursued him relentlessly, smashing through little cottages, gardens and the magnificent status of Cumhaill that got in his way. The very landscape itself seemed to fall apart in his wake as the Rakshas fluid reality was fraying on its edges from the sheer weight of the infernal energies being dumped into it.

Reaching his magnificent, crystalline palace Cumhaill ran up its side in clear violation of natures laws. Jet followed him by sprouting spikes from the sole of his feet. Cackling like a maniac and absolutely lost in the rush of his own essence Jet kept shooting volleys of firedust at Cumhaill until he heard an unpleasant “Click” when he tried to pull the trigger after reloading.
“Huh?”

“You’re wide open!”

Another one of those slashes is thrown out that almost cleaved the realm in half. Rather than dodging Jet’s eyes narrow on the faes wrist movements. As the swing happens he pulls out the iron spoon and with a whack in the middle cuts a channel of safe passage through it. But the Raksha was not about to let the opening go to waste and charged the Infernal. It however made a gross miscalculation. The Infernal he was fighting was nowhere near the same he was before the fighting began. He lost himself in his own essence and his ego. He had seen what the Raksha amounted to and all he felt was disgust that this wretched fantasy dared to think it could lord over him.

Cumhaill’s sword passed through Jet harmlessly as the shell of arrogance shattered the dreamforged blade. The fae realized the error he made and tried to get away but he found four arms seizing him from all sides, with the fifth wielding the iron spoon raised over his head. The mundane kitchen utensil broke a hole through his mask and his kaleidoscopic blood gushed forth as Cumhaill screamed.
“MY EYE!”

Jet gave the spoon a good twist before seizing the body of the elf with the rest of his hand and throwing both of them off the castle walls. Hugging it so hard as to crack its bones the Fiend dragged his foe down to the depths as they hit the ground together.
>>
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A bit dizzy, with a bloody forehead Jet stumbled out of the crater he made in the dreamscape, with Cumhaill dragged in one of his mercurial arms. He tossed the fae ahead before stomping on his neck and yanking the spoon out of him. With the power of his Nishkriya mask gone and his injuries mounting Cumhaill came face to face with the possibility that he could die for the first time. And Jet loved the expression he was making.

“Say it. Say it!”

“I… I yield!”

Jet kicked him in the face.
“I accept Master Saffron as my better! Say it!”

“I accept you as my better… Master Saffron.”

“Good. Now, I believe you owe me a favor.”

The elf spat on the ground.
“My… essence is spent. If thou wouldst wait just a wee bit-”

“I don’t need your damn essence or any of your fairy gold. I want you Sword Grace!”

“Ah yes, my sword. Grace-”

Jet kicked him again.
“NO! The Sword Grace! The grace that is your sword! NOW!”
Cumhaill’s eyes shifted towards the feathered blade he was wielding. That is his Sword Grace, whatever that is. Jet took it with a grin. It seems weird that such a light little thing could be so dangerous, but as he learned it really isn't. It’s nothing but an illusion, a lie. Once one sees through it the things worth less than a buttering knife.
“Pleasure doing business with you!”

>Leave without saying another word
>”And if you harm the village or its citizens again I’m coming back!”
>”I’ll be seeing you later.”
>Custom
>>
>>6072419
>Take his heart, as Markolab told you was now possible without resistance.
>>
>>6072421
The Rakshas Heart is what's currently the core of the Freehold. Take its Heart and the Freehold collapses. Should the Freehold collapse they'll start dying rapidly and will either have to feed more frequently or move to a different Freehold.

It's possible to take it if you want to, just saying what it'd mean
>>
>>6072418
>Iron spoon cuts through magical slash
>Scooping its eye with it
Wicked as shit goddamn
>>
>>6072419
>Custom
Twirl the spoon menacingly "Now you see what happens when you cross the Builders."
>>
>>6072419
>Hold the sword grace over the head and loudly proclaim towards the fae critters and laerd "If you dare have any intentions towards that village then know that your existence will be met with a swift end by my hand. Now bow before your new master or else an iron spoon won't be the worst thing that will be entering your face!"

We gotta ham it up with a monologue cause that battle was one for the ages. Also this place is 100 percent ours since we got it's lord ass on ass on silver platter right?
>>
>>6072425
But we wilwl have absolute control over it, yes? A small price to pay for a totally obedient knife ear.

Unrelated question, what happens to fae that end up going to Malfeas? Fae that have been enslaved by agents of the Yozi, I mean.
>>
>>6072445
They get assraped and ripped into atoms
Also, like I said, you do get absolute control over it
But unless it feeds that thing will calcify and die in a few days
>>
>>6072419
Get fucked knife ear.

>See you when I see you.
>>
>>6072419
>”I’ll be seeing you later.”
>>
>>6072419
>”I’ll be seeing you later.”
>>
Jet looked around and saw the myriad of fairy creatures inhabiting the twisted place looking at
him. The air was brimming with tension as the narrative of the place had been thoroughly disturbed. Now a new chapter can be inserted to change the direction of the story. He spread his arms with the spoon in one hand and the sword grace in the other.

"Now you've born witnessed to the power of the Builders! If any of you harbor any aspirations towards the village and its people, know that this spoon is the least thing you'll have to worry about! For I am Master Saffron! And Creation isn't yours to lord over! It's mine!"
He then looked at the Laerd covering beneath him.
"And you better behave, or I'm taking your Heart next. I'll see you later."

Still oozing malfean essence and twisting the landscape as he passes by it, Jet walked toward the edge of the Freehold. By the time he reaches its borders his anima has quieted down and his quicksilver limbs have retracted back in his body. After stepping through the threshold he once again found himself within stable Creation, and he felt his legs wobble and his stomach churn. It was a feeling similar but worse in every way to how one feels after a prolonged journey over sea. It took great effort for him to keep his breakfast down but luckily he managed it just fine.

"Easy there. Take your time. The Wyld can be disorienting at the best of times."
His coadjutor tried to soothe his nerves.
"You know, that little display was pointless. The Raksha was the only one you needed to twist around your fingers. And he was thoroughly shaken already. But bravo regardless. That was a sublime performance. And it looks like you managed to do it fast enough to avoid being horribly mutated by the essence of chaos. How do you feel?"

Disregarding the overwhelming sense of nausea Jet couldn't deny that he was feeling amazing. The rush from finally being able to cut loose and exercise his power had not faded. This sensation of invincibility was akin to being drunk, and he felt it was going to take quite a bit of effort to restrain himself once more.
"Shut up."

"Heh. You can play coy all you want. I saw you grinning ear to ear while fighting. You're a natural! You were made for this! You can pretend to me all you like, you can't deceive yourself Prince."

"I'm going to turn back now..."

"Wait. Don't use your shadow yet. Your essence is still in a fever pitch. Meditate a little until you can rein it in again."

"Fine. But won't I be in danger?"

"From what? The fae who are scared shitless of you? Or the natural animals they scared away?"
>>
Not having a retort to that, Jet sat down in the lotus position and started regulating his breathing to hasten his recovery. Whilst he did that however he started realizing just how much that little outburst changed even the items on his person. The black flame-like patterns on his robe did not disappear, and now that he took another look at it he saw that his flamewand had a brassy tinge to it. Apparently these were permanent alterations, with his only consolation being that further exposure likely won't alter them further, according to Markolab.

"Wait. I had an idea. Couldn't I just stroll back as I am and claim the fae mutated me?"

"You could... but the issue is your wife. There is a not so insignificant chance that she'll realize the mutations align more with hell-taint rather than wyld exposure. It's better to be safe for now."

"Right. Are we done?"

"I don't know. Give it a try."

"Fine. Loom Snarling Deception!"

Jet's shadow became animate and wrapped around him once more, making him look like he was a few minutes ago. It felt strangely confining, compared to before, like clothing that was just a bit too small to wear. After checking himself out and stretching his limbs to accommodate to it Jet took a look at the feathered sword in his possession and wondered how he was going to handle it. Hiding the grace away risked it being found and taken by someone who did not know what it was, or worse, did. On the other hand, revealing that he managed to "pacify" the local fae would earn him the favor of the locals for sure, at the cost of making his kin suspicious as to just how he managed to pull it off. It was a tough choice to be sure.

>He went to the center of the village and proclaimed loudly his triumph over the Fae for all to hear
>He hid the Grace somewhere safe and acted as if nothing happened
>He went to Kaya and Ena and explained he managed to sign a "truce" with the Raksha and the item was a symbol of peace
>Custom
>>
>>6074451
>He went to Kaya and Ena and explained he managed to not only sign a "truce" with the Raksha, but tricked it into handing over its sword.
We've got a fae sword. Being loud is reckless, but I feel like we've earned the right to flaunt it a little.
>>
>>6074451
>>He went to Kaya and Ena and explained he managed to sign a "truce" with the Raksha and the item was a symbol of peace
we ball, a little
>>
>>6074451
>Went to Kaya and Ena to explain he signed a truce. And explain this was our in to the townships leadership.
>Loudly proclaim to the town that we have subdued the Fae, and invite them to sit outside in the evening. For the attacks have stopped.

We can tell two tales to two different people.
>>
>>6074572
Actually, ai like the "tricked a fae" angle more.
We are social man. Support that over truce
>>
>>6074451
>He went to Kaya and Ena and explained he managed to sign a "truce" with the Raksha and the item was a symbol of peace

>Custom
>He went to Kaya and Ena and explained he managed to not only sign a "truce" with the Raksha, but tricked it into handing over its sword.

tfw trying to ride a line between insane, bizarre, and believable Jet behavior to try and put together something coherent enough that Kaya, Ena, and the village people will believe. Is it more believable that he put together a truce with no downside? Or that Jet tricked a Fae into an unspeakably favorable arrangement like the sun kings of old.

Maybe tell Kaya and Ena that he tricked the Fae, then that they should tell the village that the gang altogether bested it enough to keep it away. If the villagers don't believe him he could prove he was there, the boy whose dreams and virtues were eaten was probably a local who was taken, so he could describe him.
>>
>>6074451
>He went to Kaya and Ena and explained he managed to not only sign a "truce" with the Raksha, but tricked it into handing over its sword.
Yeah it was a real tricky "battle" of "words" alright.
>>
He started heading back where he came from, retracing his steps through the thick, wild forest. Once he was outside and under the open sky he saw that the sun was almost in the same position it was when he entered. Apparently time can flow slower or faster than normal within the Wyld. As he got to the borders of the settlement he really started contemplating what to do. Jet scoffed at the very notion of keeping his achievements hidden. He did not risk his neck and sanity tangling with the wyld-born just so he couldn't bask in the glory. But it might not be the smartest decision to go around town, loudly thumping his chest that he embarrassed a lord of chaos in single combat. He'd need to compromise.

First things first, upon getting back to town he sought out the home of the peasant girl that he talked with. After a knock on her door and some waiting the girl popped out, obviously busy packing her belongings in preparation for the journey she wishes to undertake.
"Erm, hello?"

"Hello again. I've come to return this to you and to offer my thanks."

"My... spoon? You're welcome but I'm not sure I understand."

"That's fine."
Jet looked in and saw bulging bundles of cloth held together by twine.
"And I'm sorry to say this but you might want to unpack those. I'm afraid we won't be giving you a ride."

"I-If it's a matter of money I'm sure we can-"

"It's not. We're simply not leaving. I'm sorry."

"But-but-"

"I hope this inconvenience won't affect our future interactions. Have a blessed day."

With that Jet left the girl at her home and headed towards the local tavern where the girls had bought temporary lodging. Though they were not there it didn't take long for him to track both of them down, as their finer garments stuck out amidst the poorer villagers. Once the three of them gathered in one of the single bed rooms they rented the girls started chewing Jet out for disappearing without a trace.

"Where have you been?"

"I went on a stroll in the forest, survey our new domain. Did you know there are Fair Folk living in the area?"

Kaya was shocked, but Ena looked more like her suspicions had been just confirmed.
"That would explain why the villagers were so tense."

"Well shit! If we had a full Sworn Brotherhood, I'd be all for going there and tearing their heads off. But with just the two of us?"
Kaya sucked on her teeth.
"Not good. We should get out of here while we still can."

Ignoring the callousness of how his sister just disregarded him Jet took out the fan-like blade from his cloak and began rolling it around in his palm.
"That won't be necessary."

"The fuck is that?!"
The two girls looked at the iridescent plumage of the queer blade in a mesmerized fashion. Though the alien weapon was strange even in the Freehold, it being surrounded by mundane objects only accentuated its alien beauty.
>>
"That is a symbol of peace. An olive branch, if you will, that I managed to squeeze out of the Raksha of the forest. So long as we have this they shouldn't harm the village. At least, I hope."

"H-How did you manage that? Did you really go out and court the Fair Folk? That's extremely reckless Jet! Mortals shouldn't deal with spirits! Especially the Fae!"

"Let's just say that I managed to make the leader of the local court sign off on an agreement that was a bit more than it could handle. In other words, I tricked him."

"JET!"
Ena was now quite distraught.
"Dealings with the Fair Folk always backfire in unseen ways! That was not-"

"I know my own contract, Ena. All the possible loopholes are known to me, I'm not a fool. Please, trust me a little."

Kaya put a hand over her girlfriend's shoulder.
"Hell yeah sister! Don't underestimate my bro for a second! We're the twin dragons for a reason!"

"B-But-"

Though the peer pressure from the twins was enough to put her on the back foot only when Jet swore on his honor as a Dynast to handle things, should they go awry did Ena finally relent and accept the situation. Though begrudgingly. The three of them then started pondering on how to proceed from there but Jet urged them to simply take things easy for the next couple days. It'd help the locals get accustomed to their presence if they didn't do anything outrageous for a while. And he knew that within a few days the regularly scheduled goblin raid was meant to happen.

For the next three days Kaya and Ena immersed themselves in the study of their own essence and blood, with Ena trying to educate her friend in the martial arts and Kaya blowing her off and focusing on her swordsmanship and native abilities instead. The two tried to do this far away from prying eyes, but a few curious locals, mainly children did catch a glimpse of them and afterwards rumors about them started spreading like wildfire. There were talks about them being exalted and that nothing good can come of them. Meanwhile Jet surveyed the nearby area, from the quality of the soil, the abundance of the forest and the purity of the nearby stream which the locals depend upon for much of their daily needs. Many local workmen disliked him poking his nose where they thought he shouldn’t, and for using nonsensical city-folk things like “advanced tools” and “writing”.

But thankfully nobody acted on their dislike, as on the third day everyone sheltered themselves, with the settlement turning into a ghost town. Doors were barred with whatever furniture could be moved, and protective charms of iron, salt, ash and sheepsblood were applied wherever possible. According to Markolab this was cute, as about half of their practices did precisely nothing to ward off Raksha.
>>
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The girls were not sure about what they should do as the tavern owner barred them from entering the building after they carelessly left it during the day. At Jet’s suggestion they started up a little campfire right in the middle of the street and they began cooking potluck right then and there. If anyone had peeped on them from the barricaded windows, they did not notice. The girls were admittedly slightly fearful of what might happen but as the day came and went their worries melted away and their faith in their dynastic brother was reinforced.

When the hour of midnight passed people slowly started creeping out of their homes, driven by curiosity and confusion, they found the three of them having their little picnic with not a care in the world. These people were so befuddled they could do nothing but stare in disbelief at the display. Only when Eruka, the girl whom Jet met, did they get any answers.
“What? Where are the goblins? Is this your doing, Master Saffron?”

Jet smiled and handed her a bowl and invited her to partake of the soup.
“I guess we’re not so bad omens after all!”
He said with a smirk.

Some people took the dynasts up on their offer. Most others simply returned to their homes and got a nice rest for the first time in a long while. The next day however things visibly changed around Summer Valley. Practically every place was abuzz with rumors about the newcomers, the few words Eruka managed to get out of them got out of control like wildfire and the people started making up wilder and wilder stories of what happened, most involved the girls using their peerless martial skills to beat the fiends back.

>Torment gained: 1

This bothered Jet a bit. Afterall it was his glory they were adorning them with. But ultimately it fit his designs perfectly. If they believed it was the girls who did it, that only diverts attention away from him. But some people spoke about the mysterious Master Saffron that Eruka talked to and it was probably because of these rumors that Jet was invited to the local blacksmith for a talk. The man of the forge was a robust beast, the likes of which Jet has only seen in the shape of blood apes. He had the arm of bears and a chest like a tree trunk.

“Thank you for coming.”
He said.
“I’m Bear. Silent Bear.”

“Of course he is…”

Jet ignored Markolab and shook the man's hand as he reached out, getting a proper finger cruncher, as expected.
“Master Saffron. A pleasure. So I take it you’re the leader here?”

“We have no leader. No kings either. People simply respect me and listen to what I have to say. And I like to listen to what they say. Word is, you three are the reason why the Fair Folk did not show up yesterday. Is that true?”

“Who knows?”

“I see you like being coy. But I prefer being blunt. I appreciate what you did. But I struggle to fathom what three Exalts want with us.”
>>
“Two. One’s my wife, the other’s my sister. I’m mortal, like you. I’ll let you figure out which is which. But I’ll let you know I’m not so vain as to take a woman that looks like me as a bride.”

“That’s the thing. We’re simply human. Only the inhuman call us “mortals”. That, and Dynasts. But the same difference I guess. So what I’m really curious about is what the fuck three Dynasts want with us. This isn’t your Realm, dragonling. And we don’t need your influence here. Frankly, I’d rather take the Fae. Because I know what to expect from them. So I’ll ask bluntly. Why have you come here?”

“If you’re not the leader of this town then I don’t owe you any explanation, do I? But for your information we came for the same reason you distrust us. We dislike the Realm. We came here to start a new life, a new family. Away from all the bullshit of the Blessed Isle. And with your permission we’d like to build a house somewhere on the outskirts. That’s it.”

Bear turns to his forge and starts contemplating the fires as he starts heating a piece of metal over them.
“It’s not just the Realm I don’t like. I fucking hate Exalts too. Men wielding powers they shouldn’t, looking down on everyone else not lucky enough to be chosen by the gods. Nothing good comes from them. Ever. But I’m not the leader. I can’t stop you. Do as you wish. But make sure to keep your women in check. If they start their exalted devilry we’re going to have problems.”

“Noted.”

Jet offered Bear another handshake and this time he squeezed back a little, just enough to show he’s capable of exerting force, not enough to give himself away. Bear got back to his forge and Jet took his leave. Outside he let out a smirk, which Markolab caught onto.

“Heh. Poor sod has no clue what he’s in for. So what’s the plan my prince?”

“Build a house, first and foremost.”

“Yes, but the plan! What’s the big picture? What do we build afterwards? I want to see it with my minds eye!”


“You see dear Markolab, according to The One Hundred Fifty-Six Score and Five Maxims of Assiduous Concordance we must-”

>”-make farms to create a surplus of food for harsher times and to sell for profits!”
>”-establish trade connections with neighboring settlements via roads!”
>”-create a strong foundation through extensive plumbing networks to promote health, and help irrigation!”
>Custom
>>
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You may decide what you want to build in this shithole to increase its prosperity. But for now, stick to something simple
>>
>>6075300
>”-create a strong foundation through extensive plumbing networks to promote health, and help irrigation!”
If we have a sturdy foundation to build on, everything else will be an order of magnitude easier.
>>
>>6075300
>”-create a strong foundation through extensive plumbing networks to promote health, and help irrigation!”
Irrigation is the future my friend
>>
>>6075300
>”-create a strong foundation through extensive plumbing networks to promote health, and help irrigation!”
>>
>>6075300
>”-create a strong foundation through extensive plumbing networks to promote health, and help irrigation!”
Plumbing also leans into baths which Kaya and Ena will be happy about. A big bath so Kaya can barge into Jet bathing.
>>
>>6075300
4x game time.
>"-solidify our grasp on local resources, by surveying the area and establishing supply lines and workforces to harvest lumber, stone, ore, and everything else we'll need to build this place up."
You may think that plumbing is the best first move, but it's actually the best SECOND move. Because we're going to want a lot of excess resources to actually build the plumbing up in a way that doesn't require us to update it down the line.
This is ESSENTIAL for an independent hold, and one that has strong export power in the future.
Also there's probably really good shit to find around here given the vibes Jet's had since he first stepped foot inside.
>>
>>6075300
I support
>>6075468

We want abundant resources for abundant constructions.
>>
>>6075300
>”-create a strong foundation through extensive plumbing networks to promote health, and help irrigation!”
>>
>>6075300
Supporting >>6075468 here, have lost too many games of Civ not to.
>>
"-survey the area to see what resources you have available-"

"But you already did that."

"Only a surface level check. You can never be too sure. Then, we'll need to develop supply lines so we can start stockpiling materials. We can only do foundational work once, so we need to make sure we do it right. I already know we have ample wood, good soil and drinkable water but stone, salt, metals and luxury goods will all be needed. And I want to know if we can self-sustain or will we experience a constant drain on our budget."

"Hmmmm. Perhaps I could be of assistance to hasten the process?"

"Hah! You? With what? Your constant talking?"

"Are you forgetting that I'm a proper font of knowledge, and the literal eye behind your back? I can do more than just talk, you know. It's just that you're stubborn as a fucking mule and won't let me. But I guess I could stop supporting you altogether to see how little it actually matters..."

"Alright, alright. I apologize. How do you want to help me?"

"I could teach you my charm."

"Excuse me?"

"You have my flesh incorporated into your body. And you're a Fiend to boot. By all means it should be quite easy for you to learn to do with your body what I could with mine."

"And what would that be?"

"Scoop up some soil and roll it into a ball."
Jet rolled his eyes at first but reluctantly did as the demon told. The mud he gathered in his palm started to shrink and condense into dark colored, shiny, rubbery ball that looked and smelled a lot like a century egg from a distance.
"See? You're a natural!"

"What is this?"

"Eat it."

Jet was hesitant but his curiosity overwhelmed his caution and chucked the sphere in his mouth. But he regretted his decision almost immediately. The thing was chewy and tough at the same time, and had an almost rancid, sour taste as if it was left to ferment for far too long. It was so bad, yet he couldn't find the strength to spit it out so he swallowed it whole to the delight of Markolab.

"Heh. Not so good, is it?"

"What the hell was that? Are you trying to get me killed? Whoa..."
Jet found his outrage disappear as understanding flooded his mind. He knew the composition of the soil, its history and how it connected to many things around it, such as the water from the nearby river, the rain and even the great quantities of springwater underground he didn't even know existed.
"What am I feeling?"
>>
"Knowledge. My kind was made to serve a specific purpose. To be sent to Creation and serve the Golden Lords, and to collect and consume their refuse in secret so we may divine their secrets. Objects belonging to a person can create arcane links to them. We are interpreters of those links. We live to seek them, to consume them. And the less someone wants others to know about a particular piece of information, the better it tastes for us. Imagine a lord discussing the assassination of his rival whilst having dinner. If I eat his leftovers I learn of his plot, and enjoy a meal much more succulent than he was. Pretty handy isn't it?"

"Yes but... why does a clump of dirt know so much about the surrounding area?"

"Creation is bound together via its dragon lines, the chakras of the earth. That clump of soil was part of an interconnected web moments before you ate it. Now this is not the charms intended purpose, and it's not very effective. But I imagine if you walked around the four corners of the area and got some samples from there you could get a pretty clear picture. Oh, and sadly it doesn't work on living things or corpses, so don't get your hopes up."

"Seems like an oversight to me."

"It isn't. If we went around murdering everyone for their secrets they would've realized we were dangerous. But in the whole First Age people simply thought we were good servants with a penchant for eating trash. Sadly this worked a bit too well and many thought us to be unsavory."

Jet thanked his coadjutor and went on a quick trip around the land, collecting handfuls of soil from the riverbed, the forest, the fields and the road leading to the place. The ball formed from these was a bit larger than the one before, but tasted just as horrible. However upon its consumption an almost perfect map formed in his head of the surrounding land, including what riches one might find there. In addition to the water reserves he found before, he located a cave which could serve as a suitable quarry to mine stones from, and perhaps more importantly a cave up the river which houses salt. He could even pinpoint on his mental map where the Raksha Freehold was located.

"Huh. This is... quite useful actually. Thanks Markolab."

"Anytime."
>>
With his newfound knowledge Jet returned to the tavern to discuss with the girls how he'd proceed with things. While they were supportive of his decision, neither felt particularly inclined to help him. Kaya did not feel like being a manual laborer, instead opting to hunt for wild game by zapping it with lightning until she could fabricate herself a proper hunting bow. While Ena, due to a critical lack of libraries or bookstores in the village, thought to head out and search for any ancient ruins in the area. Jet thought about notifying her about there not being any in the immediate area, but he refrained from doing so, lest he gave away his abilities. Instead he simply warned her about where the Freehold was so she could avoid it safely. Thus he was left alone to get started on his work.

He went into the woods, to a place where he knew he'd find some good quality wood and after making sure nobody was observing him he began cutting down trees. It was good practice, chopping the trunks with the side of his palm, and even better when he punched the logs into manageable sized pieces. But transporting his haul proved to be more difficult than he anticipated. He ended up threading some makeshift rope from nearby vines and poked holes in the wood so he could thread his rope through them. Then he started pulling the logs out of the forest manually. It was long and exhausting work, especially alone. And it did not help that at his fourth round he encountered one of the locals. It was the same shepherd boy he met when they first arrived.

"You know this would be much easier if you used animals, your highness."

Jet dropped the log he was pulling behind himself and looked at the boy.
"What do you want? As you can see I'm quite busy."

"Yeah, I can see that. I just came to watch the show. Hey, do me a favor and do two more rounds if you can. I got my dinner riding on you."

"You made a bet?"

"Ye. Me and the woodcutters. They said you'll collapse after seven. I said six."

"Well, hate to disappoint but as you can see I haven't even broken a sweat. So tough shit."

"You say that. But high and mighty assholes like you have a tendency to talk big right before eating shit. So I believe in you."
The boy said with a mocking grin.

"What's your problem? I'm just trying to work here. Don't you have sheep to fuck or anything better to do?"

"I just don't like people who think they are better than me."

"Then we shouldn't have any problem with each other. I don't think I'm better than you. I am. Now if you'll excuse me, I got a house to build. Have a blessed day."
>>
Jet picked the rope back up and resumed his work. He took the logs he prepared to an area he knew would make a great place for a home. Not only was its location excellent considering the future expansion of the town he had in mind, but it was also almost perfectly level, so he had very little work to do with it. After some minimal landscaping he piled up the wood in one place and got to work on laying down the foundations. Though he had little actual experience building stuff, he knew from his studies how the finished product should look like. For an Exalt, that was enough.

He worked quick, but more importantly he worked well. So well that the same men who presumably made bets about how fast he was going to tap out approached his property to take a closer look at what he was making, while Jet was taking a break.
"Good afternoon my good men. Anything I can help you with?"

"You built this alone?"

"Oh, this? It's just something I threw together. Nothing fancy, it'll be a temporary home until I can build a proper one. Sadly it's going slower than I expected. Still pretty new to this."

It was obvious from their expressions that they were either very impressed, or very, very jealous of the work being done. But they tried to hide it all the same. They tried chatting Jet up to figure out who he is and why they've come here but he easily danced around their questions, giving vague, nothing answers to their queries. He kept chatting with them right up until Kaya also showed up, with a whole boar carcass dragged behind her.

"Yo! I was wondering what you were up to. What's all this?"

"I knew you'd get mad if I didn't get you a proper place to sleep so I got started on a house."

"Oh! Good idea! But you know what else we need?"

"A bath. Yeah, yeah. I know. Dont worry. Once I set things up it will be the first thing on my list."

"Great!"
She then turned to the woodcutters.
"Hi everyone, I'm Kaya! The sister of Doofus over there. Hope he didn't get on your nerves too much. Anyway, I caught this boar over here that I planned to cook. Wanna join us?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to sell the game?"

"What are hides and tusks for? Idiot."
>>
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The men were not about to pass on a chance to eat actual meat. Given the state of the land, they probably can't really afford to eat meat outside maybe holidays, if they can't catch any themselves. And given how dangerous the woods were up until now they probably didn't dare to hunt too much. So the strong men of the village ate the roast meat with great gusto, and after some friendly banter they agreed to help out with the rest of the work in order to return the favor, much to Jet's delight. As Kaya got to cleaning the hide of the boar he took the men back and with their help and tools they actually managed to take all the wood back to the house, where they actually put the whole thing together by the time Ena returned from her wanderings. It was quite barebones, literally just four walls with a roof with nothing inside, not even individual rooms. But with their sleeping cots they could sleep in there already. And it was only a temporary arrangement anyway.

The next morning after everyone had done their morning routine Jet got some parchment and ink and began designing the future of the town. He drew a stylised map, with everything marked down and got to planning. It was childsplay for him. He studied to manage domains on the scale of cities on the Blessed Isle. He could whip up designs for a place like this in his sleep. But their simplistic elegance earned even an impressed whistle from Markolab.

"Not bad. Not bad at all. You're even planning on moving the existing buildings?"

"Of course. It's like they were thrown together by a bunch of drunkards. Actually, that's definitely how they were built. Need to put them into an auspicious arrangement. Makes things much easier down the line."

"I did not know you knew geomancy."

"I don't. I only know some principles where it's relevant to urban design."

"And they taught you this in school?"

"Actually these designs are part of what I came up with, based on some older ones I found in some textbooks in the Spirals library. A lot of modern architects disregard these methods completely. I find that they help."

"Good instinct. I can definitely see some inspiration from First Age city-plannings. Your teachers are idiots for ignoring such principles."

"Thank you. Sadly there is one major hurdle I'll have to overcome."

"And that is?"

"Labor."
>>
Building a whole city alone, with his bare hands is possible for an exalt. But time consuming, and not at all inconspicuous. To save on time one must rely on workers for larger projects. Presently Jet had three ideas about how to solve this issue. One would be to use the locals, and ask them for help in exchange for goods and favors like now. The downside is that it’d be slow since they are unskilled and would only contribute when their free time and mood allowed. The second is a faster, but more expensive option. Hiring skilled laborers from somewhere else. And lastly was the riskiest option. Demons. Summoned demons are both stronger and faster than mortals, and they are better at creating advanced structures. But to summon them he’d either need to learn sorcery, or convince Ena to do it, if she’s even capable of casting the particular spell necessary.

>Use locals
>Hire foreign contractors
>Summon demons
>Custom
>>
>>6076051
>Force the fae to do it, using glamours to appear as human workers.
>>
>>6076051
>Summon demons
Not free labour but definitely less expensive, and powerful too. Just need to convince ena and if she can't do it we've got a literal beetle demon up our ass to teach us the spell which we can explain as hiring "another" exalted that knows it
>>6076055
I don't think they work with iron which is kind of bad when we're trying to build a whole ass city.
>>
>>6076051
>Summon demons
We need to learn summoning either way, and this is an excellent excuse. Between Ena and Markolab, this should be a cinch. The only difficulty is the locals but they'll be cowed as soon as they realize what efficiency we're capable of.
>>
>>6076055
That would be brazen and I'd support it if we were more remote. As is, if a single Dragonblooded came snooping around and caught the scent of the fae on the wind, we would be turbofucked. By the way... do you guys think we should try to seize control of Laerd Cumhail sooner, before we've solidified the status quo around here, or later, when we've gotten an establishmed settlement to the point where it can entrench itself?
>>
>>6076051
I think this came up in the first thread, but you can encounter mortal/non-exalted sorcerers. They can get powerful enough to beat green exalted sorcerers. But also they have to give up something important to them?
>>
>>6076051
>Hire foreign contractors
>>6076068
wait, markolab is a beetle ?
>>
>>6076051
>Summon demons
As is our right and need. I'd thought about using the locals and working with them to build a closer rapport, but what would Jet be able to teach them about such constructions? How much help would he be himself as he is now?
>>
>>6076051
>If Ena knows the demon spell, use that one.
>If she doesnt, Recruit the locals. We have exaltation to convince them, but an argument for their cooperation and moving is "I'm redesigning your houses for free to make them more comfortable and sturdy/arcane so that fae problems are mitigated in the future. The only payment I need is your help fixing it in place."

Appeal to the danger fixed, since telling them we know better than they do isnt gonna win em over.
>>
>>6076154
The sacrifice is a part of the learning process. It applies even to Exalts

>>6076318
Jet knows how to design stuff and what the end product should be like, but not really how to get there.
He'd be like a very annoying overseer at a construction site bossing everyobe around while clearly not having a clue about what the actual building process entails. That being said, he's an Exalt and learns very quickly through experience
>>
Right. Here's how things are looking currently:
>You chose to establish supply lines. This will make things easier
>Plumbing will be appreciated by the locals
>However you chose to use demon labor, which will put the neighbors on edge quite a bit and poses a medium amount of risk (for refernce the Raksha would've been high risk)

Roll 1d20 with a +2 bonus
First 4 rolls are considered
Dc 13, Crit 17
Meeting the DC .eans little complications. Crit means no complications
>>
Rolled 19 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

>>6076432
>>
>>6076436
My tension! What did you do to it?!
>>
>>6076437
Gone. Reduced to atoms.
>>
Rolled 15 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

>>6076437
Here buddy. Have another roll to make you feel better.
>>
>>6076451
Oh yay! A crit! Just on the cusp of a complication but narrowly avoided!

>my2dav
Even captcha is tense!
>>
Rolled 11 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

>>6076432

>>6076437
I'll pretend I am very tense and that my roll is needed to save it just like that last one with the fae

AAAAHHHH HELP ME JET
>>
Rolled 14 + 2 (1d20 + 2)

In interest of getting this over with.
Nat 1
>>
>>6076436
>>6076437
lol, lmao even
>>
>>6076437
Look, Demons are just happy to work for little pay.
The perfect laborer.
>>
The citizens will be pleased by the new infrastructure. But the presence of demons means there is a medium chance for outrage, which will be mitigated should the project succeed.

"Markolab? How hard is it to learn sorcery?"

"Eh. Your essence is still not refined enough I'd say. You're getting there, don't get me wrong but it's still lacking. Then we'd need to do the whole Five Steps thing. Real pain in the ass. Not to mention the process of actually developing the spells you want to use."

"Can't you teach me?"

"Haha! No. Sorcery is forbidden for us Serfs. Best we're allowed to learn is thaumaturgy. So while I have some technical knowledge I have no clue how to actually cast spells. Why? Thinking about using demon labor?"

"Correct."

"Hmmm. How about your wife? Would she know?"

"I'd rather not involve her in this."

"Why not? Wouldn't it be better to have her summon stuff, rather than having to explain how a bloody "mortal" came to suddenly learn sorcery out of nowhere and summon more demons than she's ever seen? Get her to do it. And stay with her during the summoning process. You may learn a thing or two, and my fellows will be less likely to resist when they see one of their prince being present at the summoning."

"That is, if I reveal myself to them. Which I don't want."

"Jet, my brother, you can smell Yozi influence on others. Every demon can. Even if you hide it, demons will know you're favored by the Demon Princes."

Jet let out a weary sigh.
"I really don't want to involve her in this."

"Think of it this way. If you manage to acclimate her to the presence of demons now, it'll make things much easier for you down the line."

"You think I'll ever reveal to her that I am one? That'll be the day I die probably. Anyway, fine. I'll give it a shot."

Jet sought out Ena while she was doing her examination of the area. He approached her with the intent of simply walking with her for a while and watching her work. Since the two of them had precious little time to spend in just each other's company she eagerly accepted as she continued examining the land for signs that might point to old ruins nearby. Such magically charged places typically left their marks, sadly the presence of the Freehold and its wyld energies made this rather more difficult than it otherwise would've been. Jet of course knew that there were no places to excavate nearby, but he opted to let his wife apply herself and find that out on her own. Instead he tried to sneak in a few compliments as he watched her.

"I admire your work ethic. Not one stone left unturned. You show real dedication to your art."
>>
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The compliment did not yield the expected result. Instead Ena straightened her back, straightened her robes and let out a sullen sigh.
"It's not dedication, it's desperation. I've been given freedom to act as I please for the first time in my life and I feel like I must produce something for it. But I am... not like you. I don't know what I'm doing, out here or in general. I'm afraid I was not cut out for this. All my life I thought I'd spend all my days at home, researching. This, I failed to prepare for."

Ena looked over her own shoulder and gave her husband a sad, pathetic, painful smile. Jet never thought he'd ever see the day when an exalt would give off the same sensation of being lost he felt his entire life. He stepped over and gently gave her shoulder a reassuring touch.
"You think I know what I'm doing? I'm also just throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks. I had no plans beyond escaping the Blessed Isle and... I'm sorry for dragging you out here with me."

"Don't be. This is my shortcoming, not yours. I simply have to overcome it and be the dynast I'm supposed to be. And it's true that out here I could discover far more than I ever could from the confines of the family labs."

"I see. If there's any way I can help, please say so. But until then, want to take your mind off of it?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"I'm having some problems with the construction. Namely workers. Do you know how to summon demon servants?"

Ena is taken aback by the request.
"Catala is a small branch, so we have to make do wherever we can. Thus all sorcerers are required to learn demonology. So I know the basics of demonology but I've never tried it before."

"Sounds like a good opportunity to broaden your horizons then! I'm sure successfully doing it will do wonders for your confidence. And don't worry, Kaya and I will be there for support."

"I-If I am to do this I'd rather not involve you. Demon summoning is not as dangerous as people think, but it isn't safe. Especially for-"
She clasps her hands over her own mouth.

"It's fine. You can say it. And don't worry. I won't do anything stupid. I'll merely offer moral support."

"R-Right."

The two of them headed back to town to make some preparations. The ritual to summon a demon from Malfeas must be done at sunset and it culminates at midnight, by that time they need to be ready to start. They moved whatever components were necessary far out of view of the village and began setting things up. Warding sigils of salt, ritual circles drawn into the earth and candles placed down in a spiral pattern were all they needed. In truth all of these could be foregone, but each ward helps the process so there's no reason not to do it. And in case things go south Kaya was ready with her Daiklave to smite the demon, should it break out.

"Alright. I'm ready to begin. Now to decide what sort of demon it should be... I guess simple blood apes will suffice."
>>
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Markolab quickly chimed in.
"Eeee, wrong. Erymanthoi is the plebeian choice. For construction you want a hopping puppeteer. Easier to handle too, no blood tax. But be careful. They don't like being summoned at all."

"Actually, could you call for a hopping puppeteer?"

"Hmmm? What's that?"

Both Jet and his coadjutor felt their words fail them. Hopping puppeteer is only what other demons call those ones.
"U-uh, it's uh- something I read about in old scrolls at the Academy. Apparently they were used for construction during the Shogunate?"
Jet lied in his fit of panic.

"Oooooh. You mean Marottes? Oh yeah, how could I forget about those? We used them all the time. Thank you! That’s way better than apes!”

Finally Ena cut open her palm just as the sun set over the horizon to use her exalted blood as a key to begin the ritual. She began chanting scriptures in an old, forgotten tongue. Kaya did not seem to get much of it, nor did she care. But to Jet they felt familiar somehow. As Markolab explained they are a retelling of the events of the First War, when the demons were vanquished and bound eternally in hell. As the ritual went on Ena pumped more and more of her essence into it, causing bubbles of water to start floating all around her and the sound of the raging sea to emanate around the forest. Strange glyphs materialized around her and disappeared at the same rate. Even the light of the moon seemed to change to take on a blood-red hue over time. Finally as midnight came Ena spoke with a voice of authority that made the ground shake, crack and erupt with green flames.

“By my command! Demon of the First Circle! Show yourself! Appear before me and obey the terms of your surrender! Marotte!”

Hellfire exploded in the ritual circle and a pair of spindly limbs crawled out from the hole that appeared. The creature was unlike the other demons Jet had seen before. It was nothing more than a tangle of gangly legs, each between about 50 and 100 yards in length, with a “knot” in the center serving as its core. Made of phlegm-soaked cords woven from coarse hair the limbs grasped at the air and tried to support the rest of the body.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! Ooooh you just HAD to do it! DIDN’T YOU?! Couldn’t let a poor sod finish his rotgut in peace! NOOOOO! You NEEDED a slave NOW! Didn’t you? ASSHOLES!”

Ena grimaced and tried to assert herself, channeling even more essence than before.
“You. Will. Obey. ME!”

“Oh? You just want to go, huh? Fine, bitch! Let the contest begin!”
>>
A tug of war of wills began, where the Exalt and the Demon fought to see if the slave would be bound or if it was free to cause havoc and mayhem across Creation. One of the prime threats posed by demon summoning. Ena’s ludicrous expenditure of essence and the ritual preparations were all so she could tip the balance in her favor. But the puppeteer looked quite irate and pushed back, hard. In response Jet stepped up to his wife, placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke up.

“You got this. Don’t be afraid.”
He then glared at the hopping puppeteer which after a brief moment of confusion started to crumble under the weight of Enas presence.


“I’m doing it!”
She exclaimed with pride as the Marotte finally bowed before her. Chains of aetherial light wrapped around it for a moment before disappearing.
“Marotte! I, Ena of house Catala, bind you to a task! Assist my husband, Mnemon Jet, in the construction of this village!”

“As you wish, master.”

Ena promptly collapsed on the spot, with her anima dissipating immediately. The poor girl exerted herself far more than she should’ve. But the binding was successful and so both Jet and Kaya relaxed. She was picked up by her husband and taken home, all the while their new demon buddy followed them with unceasing movements. After the two got back home safely and laid Ena down to rest Kaya turned to her brother.

“Ugh. You sure this was a good idea? That thing is creeping me out. Hey! Can you cut out all that wiggling?! It’s annoying!”


“Bite me!”
The demon responded.

“We’ll see. First I want to know how good it is at its job. If it’s not sufficient we can just banish it back where it came from. I hope. I think I’ll test it out now. You stay home and make sure Ena is alright. ‘Kay?”

“Yeah, of course but- Aren’t you tired? You also need to rest.”

“If she worked herself this hard how would it look if I just lazed around? I will not disrespect her like that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kaya reluctantly agreed and closed the door of the house. Jet then took his new demon away and presented it with the plans he had drawn.
“You think you can make this?”

“Now just hold on a minute. Before we do anything… Just who are you?”
The gangly mass of threads seemed to look inquisitively at him. Though it was hard to determine its current emotional state beyond “irate”.

>Your master. That’s all you need to know.
>Mnemon Jet. Prince of the Earth.
>Call me Master Saffron. And I’m your prince. But you won’t speak of that to anyone
>Custom?
>>
>>6076710
>Your master. That’s all you need to know.
>>
>>6076710
>"Mnemon Jet. Prince of the Earth. The local mortals and spirits know me as Master Saffron and you'll refer to me as such, but you are kin, of like blood and like mind, and deserve to know the truth. You are of the Primordials and thus no slave of mine, but I expect to see quality work before you are recompensed "
>>
>>6076730
>Support.
You get best work by having incentives as well as punishments.

Thiugh saying he isnt a slave is inaccurate. He's a serf. Minor difference.
>>
I'm posting to make an announcement. Due to my dumbass being bad at scheduling my weekend got busier than I like. Updates will most likely be sporadic on Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

Apologies for the complications

>>6076741
Technically he's a prisoner being let out of the slammer temporarily so he can work on a rich assholes yard
>>
>>6076940
Noted, thank you for the update.
>>
>>6076710
>Make absolutely sure that nobody can see or hear the two of you before responding. If it is safe, then...
>"Mnemon Jet. Prince of the Earth. The local mortals and spirits know me as Master Saffron and you'll refer to me as such, but you are kin, of like blood and like mind, and deserve to know the truth. You are of the Primordials and thus no slave of mine, but I expect to see quality work before you are recompensed "
>>
>>6076730
>Support
What do we even give him? A rope girlfriend?
>>
>>6077047
Babies. Literally.
They are big fans
>>
>>6077050
Oh so like a daycare demon, one of those bouncing toys given life. The chances of that improve once we make that bath.
>>
>>6077082
No. More like, they just really enjoy children for some inexplicable reason. Same way you enjoy baby animals I guess. Or maybe one of those little shit designer dogs.
Hopping Puppeteers like to snatch them up and just handle them in one of their appendages. Problem is, they got no fucking clue how to take care of or even handle a child. Best case scenario, you have a few broken limbs on your kid. Worst case scenario it died of starvation or dehydration because the fucker didn't know it needed to feed the child. And once it goes limp and boring the puppeteer will shrug and look for one that's not "broken"
>>
>>6077101
Lol. I wonder if we could give it some goblins, or you know what one of those Homunculi should be pretty sturdy?
>>
>>6077106
They are actually not. Glass cannons. They hit hard but crumple after very little abuse
>>
>>6077112
Hmmmm unfortunate unless our demon can be a little more gentle. Perhaps demand that Cumhail take on the appearance of a child. As a true fae warrior he can take some punishment and without aggression of his sword grace he can't fight back.
>>
>>6077112
How strong is the hopping puppeteer as a combatant? I wonder if the weird ball that acts as it's core could fit into a pocket or pack you could carry around. In my imagination It could almost look like Jets mercury arms coming out, perhaps enough that he could use it in public and wave it off as the demon being a good helper.
>>
>>6077047
A chance to be out of Malfeas.
>>
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>>6077262
The puppeteers are creatures of landscape and architecture, never satisfied with the structures or wilderness around them. They are most at home in the Demon City, where raw material abounds and the climate suits their taste.
In their quiescent state, these demons resemble fist sized masses of knotted hair glued together by phlegm and bile When stirred into motion, the hair unrolls into dozens of spindly legs ending in small black feet. The central knot, the size of a coin, reaches heights of 50 or 100 yards. Their gait gives the creatures their name. Rather than moving in any synchronized fashion, the terminus of each leg gathers itself and springs, moving more or less in the direction the demon desires. The overall impression resembles that of an insect swarm with an unstable speck located high overhead. A wild puppeteer, freed for some reason to wander the world, often has infants in various states of dehydration and starvation curled up in several non-hopping legs. Puppeteers adore tiny children but have no interest in caring for them.
Those who have seen a puppeteer at work report a chaotic and almost comical process of change. The jerking, uncertain legs coordinate in a bizarrely short span of time to build walls or towers from scattered stones or fencing from fallen wood. They tear trees and shrubs from the earth, kick them from limb to limb to limb while other feet scrabble to dig holes, and then replant them. A puppeteer can pass from one end of a village to the other within a day, shattering some homes, creating others, carrying buildings and their foundations to new locations and using spare pieces to build a sheltering wall around the whole. With the right raw materials, a puppeteer can build siege equipment or defenses almost as fast as it can walk across them.
For the most part, structures built by hopping puppeteers are clean of taint. The slime that covers these demons clings to the puppeteers surprisingly well. Only a few thin trails slide off while the demon hops. Though vile, this substance has narcotic and addictive properties that certain wealthy mortals appreciate. The ultimate end to such addiction, as the need for puppeteer ichor grows, is to swallow a quiescent demon. This usually leads to the addict’s death.
Puppeteers do not like being summoned. A puppeteer can kick a sorcerer who fails to control it from one foot to another for hours, until the battered body has no life in it. Then, it will rearrange local habitations to its inhuman aesthetic until killed or banished.
Other notes: When engaged in its craft, a single puppeteer counts as a workforce of 10.
>>
>>6077262
They are strong enough tp juggle trees but barely know how to throw a punch.
One could technically learn how to fight but their need to incessantly moves makes most of that very difficult.
They are peerless archtitects however.

For combat it's easier to just summon blood apes
>>
>>6076730
>>6076710
>Support
>>
Jet looked around to make sure nobody was in the vicinity to overhear him. But he supposed the towering demon would unnerve any peasant enough for them to reveal themselves. Still, being careful never hurt anyone.
"Mnemon Jet, Prince of the Earth. But the local mortals and spirits know me as Master Saffron, and you will address me as such."

"Oh laa-dee-daa. Please, let me bow before you, your highness! Listen kid, just because the woman said I have to help you doesn't mean I have to like it, or respect you for that matter."
Jet sighed, then tapped his forehead to make his caste mark flash for a brief moment. Seeing the black circle on his forehead made the demon jerk backwards in shock.
"Oh no..."

"I guess we're kin, so you deserve to know the truth. You are of Yozi blood, and thus no slave of mine. Work well and I'll see that you are recompensed. Betray me-"
Jet drew his empty flamewand and pointed it at the demon.
"-and you will be punished appropriately."

"..."
The puppeteer looked down at him, but in lieu of a face it was hard to tell what it was thinking.
"Yes prince, of course. What do you need of me?"

Jet nodded in satisfaction, put away his weapon and drew out the plans for the construction he had prepared.
"This. Think you can handle it?"

The demon's central part leaned close and one of its strands started rubbing it, as a man would his chin. Finally it straightened itself out and raised two of its strands.
"That's it? Observe!"

Though the hopping puppeteer had not stopped moving for a second before, it has become quite erratic now. Its many limbs started moving independently of one another, picking up logs here, sculpting the ground there. It moved with such speed, vigor and dexterity it had Jet taken aback. Aided by essence, supernatural skill and its alien physiology the Marotte
worked at the same pace as ten expert craftsmen and when it was done it could move to the next site with its long limbs faster than any man could. It was a frightening, yet awe-inspiring sight to behold. It alone, with no tools needed, relying on its monstrous strength and the artful technique of a true idiot savant managed to establish a proper logging camp, a stone mine, pristine compacted dirt roads and the plumbing network Jet designed, all before the sun came up. True, it did need guidance, as the demon's own sense of aesthetics were less than pleasing for mortal eyes, but its work was impeccable. By the crack of dawn it had even finished a simple, rudimentary well at the center of town where people could draw water from via a bucket. This was only a temporary solution, but it would allow the people to immediately reap some of the benefits of the work being done.

"So, your highness? Satisfied?"

"Holy shit..."

Markolab chuckled.
"Told you. Hopping Puppeteers are twice as good at construction than Blood Apes. Just uh, make sure no children go near it. Marottes love kids for some reason."
>>
"D-Do they eat children?"

"No. They just like them. Literally. They are especially fond of babies. I don't know why. But they know nothing about how to take care of one. At best you'll have a kid with a few broken limbs. At worst they'll die because the puppeteer didn't know it needed to feed them."

"Okay. Noted."
Jet then looked up at the demon and tried to compose himself.
"Ahem. Impressive work. May I ask your name?"

"Eh? Why?"

"So that I may thank you properly."

"Uh. Uuuuuh. My... it's Gagarel."

"Thank you Gagarel. I think we'll be able to do great things together. Now, you said I interrupted you while you were drinking. Allow me to rectify that."
Jet went back home with the demon and took a bottle of wine out of the cart parked next to it.
"Here. It's the last bottle I have from my home. I hope it will please you."

"Uh. T-Thanks? But you know that was five days ago, right? Still I'm not going to say no."
Jet did not understand what it meant, as they summoned it just a few hours ago. However Markolab enlightened him that when summoned, demons receive their call five days prior to the summoning so they may make the journey through Cecelyne on time. Gagarel meanwhile took the bottle from him, broke its top off with one of its appendages and poured the contents all over the central knot of hair.
"Ugh. You guys drink this? This is weak as piss!"

"Sorry. That's all I had at the moment. Next time I'll try to get something stronger. But while we're at it, what else do you like? Perhaps you have a favorite food or something?"

"Uuuuh. My kind eats meat and hair."

"Hair? Like human hair?"

"Yes."

"Huh..."

But as the two of them commune with each other the other villagers start awakening and getting ready for the daily toil of existence. However when the first ones leave their homes they are greeted by newly made dirt roads, freshly cut grass and a well in the street where there had been none yesterday. For a while they are left scratching their heads, and a few simply shrug and go about their business as if nothing had changed. But soon a woman's scream shocked everyone awake as she saw the giant, slimy demon hopping around at the edge of town. It didn't take long for people to come rushing out of their homes and grab whatever farm implements they could, alongside some torches, and march towards the infernal beast with murderous intent in their eyes. Jet saw the orange glow emanating from the mob and ordered Gagarel to remain at the house, unless violence breaks out, before rushing ahead to intercept them.

"Kill the devil worshippers!"
They cried, among many other obscenities and curses. Jet knew he had to pull out all the stops to diffuse the tension, so sweet smelling vapors started wafting from his robes immediately. But it appeared that he may have done so prematurely, as a figure threw itself between him and the lynch-mob.

"STOP!"
Eruka screamed loud enough to overpower the crowd's noise.
"WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING?!"
>>
"THEY BROUGHT DEMONS TO OUR VILLAGE! THEY MUST HANG!"

"Have you ALL LOST YOUR MINDS? These strangers came to our village and the Fair Folk who plagued us for months stopped raiding our homes! Do you not see that it was divine providence that brought them here to help us? Have you not noticed the well in the middle of town?! You'd thank Master Saffron for his benevolence by burning his home down? Have many of you not eaten at his home yesterday? Have you not enjoyed his hospitality? Did he, or his family, come across as bad people to any of you?! We should be thanking them for their help! Not... whatever this is! You all bring shame to us and our ancestors!"

Jet was surprised the girl took such a strong stance for his sake, but he wasn't about to complain about it. He stepped up just behind her, so as to not give the mob any openings as he speaks.
"Thank you young lady. But I'll speak for myself. My apologies for scaring all of you. It was not my intention to disturb you. We've summoned a demon to your village, that's true. However it was for the sake of building improvements throughout the town. Already we've made a well, however that is just the start. I'm planning on building a free, public bath house next. And should any of you wish for it, we will have running water installed in your homes for the small price of a lock of hair from each member of the household. But in turn you'll have fully functioning indoor bathrooms in your homes."

Some people scratched their heads.
"What's a bathroom?"

"A place where one may bathe and relieve themselves indoors. Without a need for outhouses."

"But that's preposterous!"

"I assure you, it is not. You will also have free, unlimited running water in your homes. Should you wish for it. But I will not do anything unless you permit me to, I swear this upon my name as Master Saffron, as all of Heaven as my witness! I see that I overstepped my boundaries and I apologize. I fully submit myself to your mercy and accept any punishment you deem necessary. But I ask that you do not harm my family or my demon servant. None of them have done anything wrong, but do as I asked!"

Like a thunderclap the very vocal outrage of the people went away as fast as it came, in part because one of their own took a stance against them, and in part because of Jet and his essence saturating the area. In the end the lynching ended before it could began, with only the most aggressive of people giving Jet one last shout before leaving.
"And keep that fuckin' thing away from us!"

"Do not come near it and nothing will happen!"
As they left only Eruka remained and Jet turned to her with a sigh.
"Thank you. I do not know why you helped me but I'm in your debt."

She simply shook her head.
"I always carry water for my fathers forge so his back doesn’t hurt as much. You’re the one who helped me. I’m just returning the favor. Catch you later, Saffron!”
>>
“Heh. It sounds like you have a fan, Jet.”

“Hmmm.”

This was a surprising turn of events. But thankfully the girl's interjection helped smooth things over before things could get out of hand. However it has become clear to Jet that he’s going to experience some pushback from these barbarians, even if his intentions are noble and his success would bring prosperity to them. It was their simple human nature that made them fear the unknown, the change that was the problem, not any material limitations.

>”Maybe getting in the good graces of the smith’s daughter wouldn’t be a bad idea”
>”I better make these savages like me to prevent another outrage.”
>”Screw them. I don’t need their cooperation, just their land. My work will justify itself.”
>Custom
>>
>>6078634
>"Behavioral correction of a population was well covered in my schooling. Indoctrination, to use another term for it. They will learn to love us, and what changes we bring to their village with the aid of demons - even if I need to control the hearts and minds of the people to brand the lesson into them."
I have zero issues mindfucking the local population with liberal usage of social psychology and a little bit of mercury poisoning. It'll give us a lot of experience with Szoreny's charms over a period of weeks/months.
In time, they will love the Yozi.
Kimberry would approve.
>>
>>6078634
They have no leader, they have the smith they respect.

>It's good to get in her good graces.
>These barbarians are idiots, but If I intend to make a kingdom of them, I require their cooperation, however it is gained. For this we need a simple release valve.

So my plan is simple.
1. Get in good with the smiths daughter, secure that very useful friendship. Make sure she agrees that improving the village is good, maybe get her to pass around word that we're from one of the biggest cities and run away for reasons unknown.
2. Form a small and vocal but impotent counter-force. Pick like 2 or 3 unpopular villagers who were already agressive but lack popular support or wits to act as vocal opposition to everything we do. After the 9th time they scream about demons, people will tune them out.
3. In a few days, have the word passed out that we're going to be holding a public meeting in town center about some more work we wish to do on the town. Frame it as benevolently self serving. "I'm living in this town now, so I want it to be improved. Where the town gets better, my life is also more comfortable and it keeps my hands busy." They can give a few of their "issues" or "needs" which we've already gotten planned for. Give the illusion of feedback and cooperation. And of course, we settle payment for services [minor occult things, like the hair for our demon].
4. Once we've got the infrastructure organised, we can start recruiting. Maybe use our time in designing and meeting with people to suss out who's got some talents we can use and who's reliable labour. We want to recruit them for quarrying and transport I think, start building a power base.

Hey QM, what book are you using for infernals? I wanna go get it.
>>
>>6078640
>Hey QM, what book are you using for infernals? I wanna go get it.
Yes
Manual of Exalted Power: Infernals
Broken-Winged Crane
Ink Monkeys
Compass of Celestial Compass: Malfeas
Book of Sorcery Vol. 5: The Roll of Glorious Divinity II
And a bunch of fanwork shit from Revlid and Earthscorpion and whoever made cool Yozi shit. So you won't find everything in the official supplements (some is shit I made up)
But the official books can all be downloaded from /tg/s Exalted General
>>
>>6078634
>”Maybe getting in the good graces of the smith’s daughter wouldn’t be a bad idea”
>Shower them with so much generosity such as food, better roads, the modern conveniences so much so that they have no choice but to accept us as a force of good in their life

The quickest way to the people's heart is their stomach, luckily for us they are starving. Then if food is not enough then we lessen the load on their bodies with better roads and modern conveniences we give them the chance to live instead scraping day through day, we will become a man they know that they can trust. We become mrbeast, also let's hope our demon don't come near a child.

>>6078639
>>6078640
>Brainwashing
>Counter opposition

I swear to god both of you literally just came off from your jobs as fbi and cia agents.
>>
>>6078691
So what if I did? Our masters demand results, son. If those results require us to write propaganda and make children swear binding oaths they know not the consequences of, well, that's just a small sacrifice to make for those results. But enough about my job, Jet has a village to convince, and I'll take diehard loyalty over a meager "he's a cool and friendly dude" any day. These mortals should be willing to kill themselves for our sake by the time we're done. I'll accept nothing less from our serfs.
>>
>>6078720
Uhh slow down? Some of these guys barely know what a bathhouse is, you're treating them like they're the next iteration of jesus christ himself. Like you're really into it man, i'm starting to think that this is your barely disguised fetish for mind controlling.
>>
>>6078733
Sadly Exalted social combat is basically mind-control. They are simply so eloquent, so attractive that people can't help but agree with whatever they say.
And this goes double, triple and quadrouple for Infernals whose Social charms always have insidious side-effects (and sometimes primary ones)
For example: Jet's current social combat is basically weaponized sociopathy, because he instinctively knows what people want to hear from him and he acts on it. Which is super predatory. And this will get worse
>>
>>6078634
>”I better make these savages like me to prevent another outrage.”
>>
>>6078691
We are a prince of hell. Who better to learn monster tactics from than the worst?

Anyway. These people dont matter. Our sister and our wife matter. Employ whatever tactics enaure we maintain control and can extract the value of the people here.
>>
>>6078634
>”Maybe getting in the good graces of the smith’s daughter wouldn’t be a bad idea”.

We did have some torment. Scooby Doo villainy. Dress up as a ghost or bandit to spook locals as needed. Or maybe a harmless seeming giant animal that pranks people.
>>
Jet considered his current situation, and the disposition of the blacksmith's daughter. The course he should take was quite obvious. Behavioral correction, encouragement of beneficial actions and the punishment of disruptive ones, is also an important facet of governance. And already Eruka, the blacksmith's daughter, seemed like a figure for that. But he'd need to sleep on that and make plans for it. So he withdrew alongside Gagarel and the two went to sleep just as Kaya and Ena woke up. The two questioned what was all the racket outside but Jet assured them it was only a bout of confusion on the part of the locals.

Gagarel squeezed himself into the cabin and rolled his limbs up around his core, making the whole demon look like a phlegm coated ball of yarn. Jet on the other hand only pretended to sleep and he worked on the next steps of his plan. It wasn't anything complex or glamorous, these barbarians were easy to manipulate simpletons. Basic techniques will suffice.

After resting Jet took Gagarel back to work. The two made a bathhouse as was planned. It was a simple thing, a single large hotspring heated with wood and charcoal due to the lack of natural thermal waters and decorated in accordance with more simple, traditional designs. Once it was done he approached Eruka and offered to install water in her home first as thanks for her assistance. She agreed eagerly and wasted no time cutting a lock of her hair so the puppeteer may consume it with gusto. She was a bit taken aback when the hell-creature casually pushed her house some twenty yards back and sculpted the terrain around it to be perfectly flat, but her reservations disappeared after only about ten minutes Jet invited her inside to showcase her the wonders of civilization. Toilets, sinks and bathtubs were not something she was too familiar with, but she was a bright little peasant and quickly saw the potential benefits of theirs. She was especially intrigued by the idea of taking warm baths in the tub. Jet however explained that heating enough water for that may not be ideal, but he also reminded her that the freshly built bathhouse is fully functional, should she wish to try it. Eruka was reluctant at first but after a bit of insistence on Jet's part curiosity quickly overtook her.

She felt rather awkward, sitting naked in the stone lined pond. But as the fires underground started heating up the pool the farmgirl felt all the tension in her body melt away. Her relaxed bliss was only clouded by worried thoughts that she was not going to be able to go back to washing herself in the cold river after this. But that became the least of her worries right as Jet climbed in a few feet away from her.
"How's the temperature? I only guessed as to how hot it'd get."

"Mmmmm. It's lovely..."
Eruka let out a terrified shriek that undoubtedly attracted some attention from people nearby.
"S-SAFFRON!"

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"WHY ARE YOU HERE?!"
>>
>>6079414
Ah. Cultural research has a blindspot for the common sense of a region
>>
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"To take a dip, why else? It's communal, you know."

"T-That's not-"

She tried to protest but her complaints were quickly drowned out by two new voices that arrived.
"Ooooooh! You got it up already? SWEET!"
Kaya and Ena wasted no time disrobing and climbing in themselves, which further added to the poor girl's shock.

"B-B-B-But aren't you siblings?!"

"Yea. And?"
Kaya looked at Jet and got only a shrug from him. Neither knew what her problem was. Neither did Ena.

"YOU'RE NAKED!"

"You're looking far too red, miss. If you can't take it, there are buckets of cold water there. It also promotes health by improving your circulation and it does wonders to your skin!"

"No! You're not doing this! I'm not the weird one here! You are!"

The three simply shrugged. Shared baths are a part of Realm culture, as they help with relaxation and the establishment or reinforcement of bonds between individuals. To them it was natural. Eruka however wanted to have none of it. She tried to leave but then realized she'd need to get out of the water to do so and expose herself further. She ended up staying in the water with the three of them and did indeed overheat by the end of it. Jet sighed and decided to take her back home to be safe.

After carrying the poor girl home Jet was confronted by someone who was seemingly waiting for him just outside Erukas abode.
"Can I help you?"
He looked at the shepherd boy.

"Yeah. You can get the fuck out of this town first thing tomorrow."

"Now why would I do that?"

"You outsiders haven't been here for a week and you're already summoning demons and building stuff all over the place. Now I saw you carrying her while she was unconscious. It's clear for everyone to see that you're nothing but trouble! You can either fuck off or start keeping to yourself and being normal. Otherwise we're going to have problems."

Jet couldn't help but let out a fiendish grin. Normally it takes some effort to discern the true motives of a person that hide beneath the layers of lies that people sometimes tell even themselves. But there was an unmistakable, sweet scent in the air that was more important to Jet than food or water. One he couldn't mistake for anything else. Envy. The boy was jealous of him. But why? Well that was obvious. He did not give an ounce of shit when Jet was building things before, nor was he part of the lynch mob that tried to kill Gagarel. No, it's something much simpler. The girl.

He stepped forth, with his pearly whites practically glowing and he put a hand on the boy's shoulder, who physically recoiled from this.

>”You know what? I’ll let you have this one.”
>”As you wish. Now try telling her to do the same. See what happens.”
>”Make me”
>Custom
>>
>>6079470
>Custom
"If I can't get your girlfriend in my bed by the end of the week, I'll fuck off and leave you with more money than you can spend in your life. If I can, though, I'm making you watch every second of it and you won't look away."
>>
>>6079470
>>6079476
Supporting this cuckolding. It's a great way to lower torment. And szoreny would fucking revel in it.
Also, we should toss this faggot to the local Fae for ego death once we're done cucking him.
>>
>>6079470
>Throw a knowing smirk at the kid then continue enjoying the bath while ignoring him

>>6079476
>>6079486
Calm down ntr protagonists. Jet literally had sex once, it was kind of awkward and sweet.
>>
>>6079498
>supporting
On the plus side we now at the moment have someone who can be a torment drain.
>>
>>6079505
>Torment drain
Yeah him and every other orphan in 5 feet, what are they gonna do? Call their parents?
>>
>>6079470
Im not into cuckoldery. Not because of this insignificant fuck has any dignity worth mentioning, but because Ena deserves better.

>Toss him a smirk
>"Possessive over an unreciprocated crush aren't you." Then go to the baths to enjoy the fruits of our labour
>>
>>6079470
>”As you wish. Now try telling her to do the same. See what happens.”
>>
>>6079521
+1

We're already on a weird relationship with Ena where it's like we're acting as if we like her, but because we wrote such an amazing letter she thinks we're madly in love and she's also crazy for us. I'm sure we can find other asshole to drain our Torment
>>
>>6079470
>You know what? I’ll let you have this one.”
>>
He stepped forth, with his pearly whites practically glowing and he put a hand on the boy's shoulder, who physically recoiled from this.

Jet gave him a knowing smirk.
"Relax kid. I'm a married man. I'm not going to do anything to your friend."
He chuckled.
"Of course, don't think for a second that will increase your chances with her."

The kid jerked away from Jet and raised his shepherd staff at him.
"You stay away from her, you hear?!"
He was scared. He saw something in the saffron robed man's eyes that utterly terrified him, something he couldn't place.

"Of course, of course. I don't want any bad blood. But try telling her to stay away from me. See how that works out. Or, if you got two stones to rub together in here-"
Jet poked his own head as demonstration.
"-you'll play real nice with me, and I might give you a few pointers. Anyway, I shall take my leave. Have a blessed night."

He returned to the bath for a brief time before calling it for today. For the next week or so Jet and Gagarel were hard at work doing improvements around the town. At first the citizens were reluctant to ask for his services, but after the two made proper stone roads all over the place and installed irrigation systems in the fields they slowly started warming up to the idea of having the demon alter their property. Slowly, one by one they each opted in to be connected to the water system. This ingratiated him with the people enough for them to begrudgingly tolerate Gagarels presence. But Jet knew that summoning another demon would push their patience.

Yet this considerable victory paled in comparison to the satisfaction he felt from tormenting the poor sheep herder, whom he learned was named Kou. Kou was an orphan, a kid these people found in a wreckage as a baby, with his parents murdered on the side of the road. Him and Eruka were childhood friends as they grew up together and Bear is a sort of surrogate father figure for him. So it's no wonder why it was eating him up anytime the farm girl brought lunch to the hard working architects of the town. He became a very vocal opponent of Jet's, urging others to not trust a snake like him. While he managed to gather a few supporters - it's a very open secret that the blacksmith silently agrees with him - most people enjoyed having proper infrastructure and a steady supply of meat thanks to their new neighbors.

Things progressed smoothly. In just one week of time several households have been connected to the new systems, and to each other through the new roads. And all of the landscaping they did resulted in a big central square forming where there used to be a somewhat tightly packed cluster of homes, which would serve him well in the future to host both markets and various events that he might organize in the future. In fact, its existence came in handy much sooner than Jet could ever have hoped for as a traveling merchant decided to set up shop, rather than pass through the place.
>>
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The locals swarmed the man and his wares like hungry locusts. They brought out handfuls of silver coins to bargain with the merchant, which he found odd since in his experience the locals mainly bartered with each other rather than use any hard currency. He only needed to take one look at the coinage to know exactly what they were, and it did not please him. Silver Dinars, the currency of The Guild.

The Guild is the single largest organization in all of Creation. It's a conglomerate of people from all walks of life united under a single, sacred goal: The acquisition of wealth. The Guilds tendrils reach all across the four directions, wherever profit can be made, or wherever they can create a market for their wares. The thing is, while the Guild deals in practically everything in existence from the mundane to the arcane, its princes and factors are known primarily for peddling in the two most needed, basic things. Flesh and recreation. Wherever the Guild rears its ugly head, slavery and drugs soon follow. It starts innocently enough, with them selling only things the locals need but once they get a foot in they'll start pushing these more profitable things as the need for cheap, expandable labor and addiction have a way of fueling themselves. The dinars he sees are nothing more than the seeds passerby Guild merchants have sown. Summer Valley is too small to be profitable, for now. But should it flourish it'll try to siphon off its wealth and prosperity like a parasite.

However that is not why he was wary of the Guild. The real problem with them was two-fold. First, The Guild will trade with anyone who is willing to bargain. Gods, Demons, Fae, the Dead, it mattered not to them. One monster's coin is as good as any other. Some of the things they are rumored to practice are enough to make even the most jaded Dynasts stomach churn, such as selling slaves to the Fae, then buying back the same soul-devoured bastards and selling their blood to ghosts and meat to demons, all after the mindless husks were used to breed more slaves of course. And the other is that the Guild was powerful. They were good at what they were doing, and even if one or two merchants always failed, the Guild was simply too big, too influential and too necessary to fail.

Jet walked up to the merchant's small caravan of wagons to look at his wares. He had a great variety of stuff to sell, from hand-woven rugs to exotic spices and precious metals. None of it was all that impressive. At least to him. Nothing he had could even be compared to merchandise from The Blessed Isle. But the locals were enamored by it all. Men sought to buy fine tools that Bear could not, or could not afford to forge and women looked greedily at the pretty foreign dresses and exotic perfumes they could use to pretty themselves up with for the sake of attracting the lads. What stuck out to Jet however were the things in the cart at the end of the convoy. People wearing tattered rags and bound in shackles.
>>
Slaves weren't uncommon in the Realm. But only the Empress could own and lease them out to whatever project needed to be completed quickly and cheaply. And only House Cynis had the privilege of acquiring them from The Guild. Still he wasn't too used to seeing them. Even the servants at his home were more employees than slaves. The locals however didn't really seem to care much about it. He even caught a few stray whispers from villagers who were glad they "Didn't have to buy any now that Master Saffron was here". It dawned on Jet that they were probably buying the slaves to feed them to the Raksha instead of their own sons and daughters. He felt sickened.

"Can I help you with anything, dear customer?"
The man with the big, hook-like nose spoke with a thick southern accent. He had traveled far from his homeland.

"Perhaps. But I'm just browsing for now. Say, where are you planning on selling such a stock?"
He pointed at the cart with about twenty people of varying condition crammed in there.

"Ah, those! There is a city further north, you see! People there are always looking to buy slaves to work their fields, see? Now normally I'm not inclined to break up the package, but seeing how your beautiful little town seems to be flourishing I'm willing to make an exception! Are you interested in buying some?"

>"Yes. I think I'll take it all..."
>"Actually I'm wondering if you'd be willing to take a passenger to this city of yours."
>"No. Thank you."
>"No. And I'd better not see you or any guild factor in here ever again."
>Custom?
>>
>>6079969
>"Yes. I think I'll take it all..."
With our genius, we can leverage them to rapidly turn a profit and contribute to the village's growth, while keeping them under vastly better working conditions than they ever would've gotten otherwise. Three square meals a day, warm water, sturdy clothes, and fine tools to handle eight hour shifts should earn their loyalty and then some.
>>
>>6080021
so buy them and free them as well ? sounds like an idea
>>
>>6080021
>Support
I'm all for the buying slaves and turning them into eternally loyal employees through generosity but the (((guild)))? Always be careful around them merchants type they will most definitely fuck you over for personal gain.
>>
>>6080021
An easy and effecient way to build a powerbase.

And this is one of those times that doing good is also profitable!
>Support buying and turning them into loyal servants

Bur also
>Buy a map of the area
>>
>>6079969

>”You know what? I’ll let you have this one.”

Inner Yozi wants violence, and scooby doo villainy. Maybe one day.

>Custom?
No thank you.
Wait for the merchant to leave then take on the Forma One Eyed Bandito Freedom Figther. Attack the merchant, take whats worth taking, burn the rest, free the slaves and point them back towards the village after giving a made up story about his tragic past. Learn what we can about the city to the north, then sell the guild merchant to the fae for ???
Profit

Repeat with the next Guild scum until Jet can build a freedom fighter bandit village run by his villainous one-eye persona. Instigate slave revolts in annoying big cities that get in his way.

I had another notion. I was worried what would happen if the NTpRotagonist option won besides general tomfoolery. Would Loom have made the shepard boy exalt from getting cucked? Would that be the worst exaltation in history? Also Jet is for for Kaya and Ena.
>>
>>6080238
. . . Hmm, we can kill him after he leaves to recoup our resources. But still buy his crap so the slaves know who freed them is our public persona and build their loyalty that way.
>>
>>6080238
>I was worried what would happen if the NTpRotagonist option won besides general tomfoolery
He wouldn't have Exalted, that's for sure. Not for a while at least. If he attacked Jet afterwards, found out he's a demon and kept attacking, he would've. If he killed himself after getting cucked, he 200% would've.
But neither of those are very likely. I would say more but those are spolers
>>
"Yes. In fact, I think I'll take them all."

"Eh?"

"Only issue is, do you accept Realm currency?"
Jet spoke and flashed a handful of paper jade scrip in front of the merchant.
"I'm a bit short on silver, you see."

"W-Well my good lord I don't think I can-"

He tried to refuse but the Infernal simply took the rest of his wad of cash from his pockets and started waving the stack around, the paper making a nice rippling sound as it swayed around.
"Come now. Is the strongest currency in Creation not good enough for you?"

"I uh... can't-"
The man's eyes kept following the bills from left to right. Despite his obvious interest he was still reluctant to accept the deal. Right up until the sweet, sweet aroma of the Koku hit his nostrils as a root-like protrusion sprouted from Jet's fingernail and injected a bit of mercury into the money.

"Think about it, friend. The Realm's markets open for your trade! What a grand opportunity! Don't you agree?"

"Yes. Opportunity..."
The man's eyes glazed over and he gripped and crumpled the paper bills like they were the last pipe in an opium den. A few minutes later the door of the wagon fell down like a drawbridge, allowing the "merchandise" to walk off of it in a state of confusion.
"Be careful good sir, some might be a bit rowdy but there are a few rough gems in there-"

The merchant was about to grab one of the girls by the cheek but Jet slapped his hand away, warning the man to not touch his property without permission. He apologized profusely and left so he could attend his other patrons, leaving Jet to examine his purchase more closely. He frowned. This bunch definitely was not worth the rest of his savings. It will take considerable effort on his part to make them turn a profit. But first he had to ensure they function properly. Yanking on the chain binding the group together he ordered them to follow him and he took them back to his home where Gagarel was currently engaged in some landscaping in his freetime.

"Oy. What's all this then boss?"

"Easy puppeteer. They are not yours."
He turned to the terrified men and women before undoing their shackles. The poor slaves barely registered that their restraints had been undone from fear of the demon, but eventually they did realize what just happened and looked at them confused. Yet none of them said a word.
"Do any of you know Riverspeak?"

An elderly, balding man steps out.
"I can speak the tongue Master. And I can translate for you."

"What's your name? And am I correct in assuming you're from the South?"

"Correct Master. I'm Rock. Most of us were captured in the South and brought here."

"That's quite a way from here. Why did the merchant go through the trouble of bringing you here?"

"People tend to have less qualms about enslaving others when they don't look like them."

"Yes, that makes sense."
>>
>>6080797
>If he killed himself after getting cucked, he 200% would've.
wait, you can exalt after dying ?
>>
>>6080823
The deathlords do rule the underworld. They probably could.
>>
>>6080807
Also, they just increased their value fractionally.

Great chance to learn a new language. Which is always a great thing to know, even if it has somewhat niche applications. Better to have and not need, than need and not have, like water breathing.
>>
>>6080823
Abyssal Exaltation needs you to be dead (or rather in the moment of death).
It has some other requirements too but if you meet them time will freeze as a Deathlord comes to you and offers you a chance to serve. Accept and you become an Abyssal, refuse and your soul gets annihilated (no reincarnation for you, ever)
>>
"Pardon my question Master, but some of the others are asking what you want to do with us?"
He then leans in close to whisper to Jet.
"And I think a few are plotting to run away."

Jet gave him a knowing nod.
"Then please translate what I'm about to say. Ahem. Greetings to you. I am Master Saffron. I've bought you from that man, but you are not my slaves, as you can see. You have no chains. I'm not going to keep you here. You're free to go wherever and do whatever you please. You're free."

"What? I-Is this true?"

"Translate."

Rock speaks but it's evident even to one who does not speak the language that he stumbles an awful lot while trying to deliver the message. But as he goes on the crowd starts to get louder by the moment. Hushed whispers turn into rowdy discourse, which turns into open outrage. Some of the more able bodied slaves turn towards the merchant, their intent obvious for all to see. Jet snapped his fingers and Gagarel smashed down in front of them before they could get going.

"Sit down mortals! The boss is talking!"

"Thank you."
He turned to the now former slaves.
"I must ask you to refrain from that. You are free, of course, but while you're in my land you'll do as I say. And I don't want your bloodshed to attract more attention from the Guild. Now, if you've calmed down, here's what you can do. If you wish, you may leave right now and head right back home, on your own, with no money, and no clue which way to go. Or if you're smart, you can stay here and work for me. I'm a bit short on money at the moment, since I just bought you. But you will be given free homes and food for your work. And eventually, when we start turning a profit, you may earn a wage that will help you get back home. So what do you say?"

The translation must’ve been a bit rough, as several people did not get it at first. But after a few clarifications and much deliberation a rough consensus has been reached. A little over half of the now former slaves went to one side and looked at the others expectantly, all of whom simply turned around and started walking away from the town, arguing with each other all the while, no doubt about who should be leading whom. This was for the best and Jet was pleased. With this the sorting process is finished, the wheat has been separated from the chaff. Those disruptive elements who would’ve caused problems down the line, while those that remained now do so under the illusion that they did it of their own free will. In truth they are simply the ones who have not failed the test. They will live here, thankful of the kind and generous lord that freed them. They will make their daily bread, build their homes, and eventually all the money they earn will simply circulate right back to Jet. And they’ll love every second of it. The greatest chains are not those of iron and steel, but of jade and gold.
>>
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Those slaves who remained would receive a sort of communal home, built by Gagarel until individual accommodations could be constructed. The slaves were quite impressed by the puppeteers unearthly grace and beauty as it worked. They even joined in to help things hurry along. The locals were less enthusiastic about it. Once they realized that the slaves are here to stay they had some reservations about it. This was a double edged sword. On one hand it creates animosity between two easily distinguishable parties, which could easily be exploited. On the other it could easily lead to them blaming Jet for these foreign elements. He'll have to deal with that later.

For now Jet focused on something else. He waited for a while until the trader packed his things and continued his journey once no more trades could be made. Quietly he slinked away and followed the caravan from a safe distance away. He waited for night to descend so he could use the cover of darkness to ambush the trader and recoup some of his losses. Hiding among tree branches he was already imagining how he'd vent his torment on the Guildsman when something unexpected happened.

As soon as the sun set over the horizon and the veil of night blanketed Creation a beast sprung upon the caravan before Jet could. Illuminated by the light of the moon a vicious tiger sprung out from the undergrowth. Jet had never witnessed such ferocity that this man-eater displayed. The feline possessed the natural cunning of an apex predator, attacking those guards who were farthest from their comrades first, before pouncing back into the tall grass. Confusion spread like wildfire as the men each let out a quick scream before falling silent with their throats ripped out, or their lifeless bodies dragged back into the bush.

The assault was swift, brutal and efficient. In a minute the eight guards were all gone and the marchants horses were spooked so much that they broke out of their bindings and ran away, leaving their master at the mercy of the beast, which had none. The formerly smug merchant was torn to ribbons while screaming and kicking about. It was almost as if the animal purposefully wanted him to suffer for as long as possible.

The Infernal watched in amazement as the tiger feasted on its prey once it finally died. The great cat licked its mouth clean the same way an epicurean did to savor the last scraps of a fine meal. Then the beast turned around and took its leave. But the swing of its tail knocked over a brass lantern, spilling burning oil over the wooden wagon and setting the whole caravan ablaze.
>>
Jet let out a silent curse. He thought about tracking the beast down and killing it. Leaving a man-eater prowling around in his territory was definitely not acceptable. But now the riches he came to recover from the Guildsmen were at risk of being consumed by the flames.

>He dove to douse the flames and save whatever he could
>He swallowed his greed and focused on the tiger. The beast had to be dealt with
>Custom?
>>
>>6082173
>He dove to douse the flames and save whatever he could
Lard cumhaiel can help us deal with the tiger later
>>
>>6082173
Damn! Potential ally or getting money back, shit... Honestly I don't know if the Guild could go 10x Pikerton, come to the town and say "We noticed our guy dies but there was nothing left of the money, not even burned paper or melted copper, so YOU must have done it". But I feel it's really possible so I'm gonna vote for

>He swallowed his greed and focused on the tiger. The beast had to be dealt with
>Be cautious and ask Markolab if anything of this is normal. After all, it should've been a beast, it doesn't make sense it acted with such intelligence.

Tomorrow in the morning we could wait for some people to find the burnt caravan, or go and collect wood and "by chance" find the rests of it, contact the Guild and tell them we found the caravan. I hope that the metal currency could still be valuable, but that paper money is really gone.
>>
>>6082173
>Question Markolab if the tiger seems. . off.
>Douse the flames to save what he could.
>But leave enough to be burnt and a few paper notes damaged to leave any investigation to what happened obvious.
>>
>>6082184
I don't know man we gotta recoup our losses, those former slaves ain't gonna turn a into profit this soon you know, half of them don't even speak the language and half of them left to god knows where. AND if you're really worry about the guild thinking it's us that did it we can always blame the fae, i mean we literally have them in our backyard man
>>
>>6082197
All the bodies are killed by tiger, the fire is set from a lantern and a nearby tent. . . it's all looking really plausible
just leave a little bit and it'll be a done deal.
>>
>>6082173
>Tiger time
Mortal currency? Who gives a fuck. I bet this is a Lunar.
>>
>>6082173
Tempting. I wonder if its a Weretiger. I think I remember something about one type of exalted from the last thread, the Lunars? being shapeshifters. The mpreg goddess of the moon or something. I suppose a Lunar would not want to be on good terms with an Infernal but I don't really know how much they care. Or its just a mean fucking tiger.
>>
>>6082173
>He dove to douse the flames and save whatever he could
>>
>>6082173
>He swallowed his greed and focused on the tiger. The beast had to be dealt with
>>
>>6082173
Changing >>6082184 and supporting >>6082193
>>
>>6082173
>He swallowed his greed and focused on the tiger. The beast had to be dealt with
>>
>>6082179
>>6082193
>>6082236
>>6082584
In favor of saving the stash

>>6082227
>>6082436
>>6082987
In favor of tiger

Money wins
>>
Jet cursed under his breath and jumped down so he could rush to the caravan in order to save what he could from the flames. The sound must've startled the tiger as rustling could be heard from the tall grass. Jet tried communing with his demon whilst trying to look for anything to douse the fire with.

"Did you see that? That thing was almost... Intelligent. I've never witnessed anything like it."
Jet thought he might be crazy. Or that the Guild have been hunting tigers here for their striped hides or some other bodyparts which are commonly used in traditional medicine. Tigers are vengeful beasts after all. But Markolab confirmed his suspicions.

"Aye. Definitely not normal animal behavior. Could've been the servant of some local animal deity. Or maybe a minor godling taking mortal form, like a hound of the unbroken earth or some variant of it. Those tend to not like humans trespassing into their wilds without appropriate tribute."

"I'll have to form some sort of militia or hunting group. Definitely don't want one of those prowling in my territory."

He searched through the wagons until he found the water rations of the caravaneers and used it to push back the fire briefly. It was nowhere near enough to put it out and there were no rivers close enough to do that either. So all he could do was go and reclaim whatever he could before the fire would start consuming the whole thing again. The paper money was practically all lost at this point, so Jet focused his attention on the silver coins of the guild which could withstand the heat a bit more. Still the silver denars managed to heat up to the point that they were uncomfortable to handle, each leaving red markings on Jet's hand as he grabs them.

"You really ought to invest in toughening yourself up Jet. This is embarrassing. How are you going to handle hellfire if terrestrial ones are making you wince?"

"Shut up!"

He wrapped however many coins he could in his robe and jumped out of the wagons window before they could get fully covered in a blanket of orange flames. Rolling around on the ground just to be safe he looked back and saw the whole thing slowly turn into charcoal. He shook his head at the loss of valuables but there was nothing more to be done.

"You think some of the magic items will survive this?"

"Are you kidding? This fool had nothing but thaumaturgical trinkets. If this nobody had any true artifacts I swear I'll shut up for a week."

"One could hope. Anyways, let's go. Not much left here."
>>
>>6083317
Loom?????
>>
>>6085249
I hope Loom's okay. They did report not feeling so well at the end of last thread, I recall.
>>
>>6085596
I'm hoping he just got banned for something and will be back in 3-7 days.

Shit happens or ip gets flagged.
>>
>>6085602
Looom I even spoke up for you please don't flake!
>>
>>6083317
Praying for Loom
>>
Went to check on this thread since it's almost a week since I last saw it and sheesh dude.
>>
>>6085249
>>6085596
>>6085602
>>6086784
>>6086798
>>6087033
Yeah, sorry fellas.
I admit I've been drawing blanks for a while now. Not because I have no ideas but because it's getting difficult to take things from A to B. That and I've been having stuff in my personal life that's been eating a lot of my free time.
I'll try posting on the weekend but I can't make promises
>>
>>6087107
Happens to everyone Loom. Just remember that Jet is for Kaya. Also one of these days I guess Jet should go visit the underworld.
>>
>>6087139
Yeah we have to go to the land off the Yozis to "complete" our exaltation if my memory serves me right
Or I just have dementia
>>
Jet decided to give the murdered men a modest burial by the roadside and improvised a prayer for their souls to hopefully prevent the men from rising as the hungry dead before leaving the scene. The burning caravan illuminated his path for a while but eventually only the moon, and the demon inside him, were his only guides back. He found a nice patch of freshly moved dirt at one of the construction sites where he knew there wouldn’t be anything built and stashed away the collected silver for future safekeeping, then he went home to get some rest.

The next morning he was awoken far earlier than he would’ve liked by a riotous crowd outside his home. After quickly donning his robes he stormed out and angrily demanded what was the cause of all the ruckus. But his question was answered when he saw the mutilated remains of Gagarel strewn about the place. Demonic viscera covered the ground, the trees and the accommodation of the workers. He felt the vitriol bubbling inside his guts and demanded to know who was responsible for that.

His rage quickly abated however as reason and Markolab took over and it became apparent that no man could’ve done this. Hopping Puppeteers may not be fighters but they are still demons. No one man is capable of killing one in single combat. With a voice of authority he sent everyone away and began looking into the crime scene. The only tracks he found belonged to the crowd that was just there, no other footprints were found, nor any corpses or signs of injury. Only shed demon blood and bits of flesh in places a man could not take them.

“Markolab…”

“Yeah. Whatever did this was not mortal.”


“Some local deity?”

“Worse. It’d take more than a petty god to do something like this right next to us without me noticing. Could it be-”

The demon's voice suddenly cut off when a cold shiver ran across Jet’s entire body as he heard a low, rumbling growl. He felt as if he was in the presence of a terribly vicious predator and when he looked over his shoulder he saw the tiger, or at least a tiger, standing at the roof of his cabin with its claws out and glaring at him. He quickly turned around in a fit of panic and started backing off without meaning to or even realizing he did it. Jet still heard the growl but the tiger was still as a statue and made no sound, instead it sounded like a distant echo but it was unmistakably the roar of a tiger.

The prince of hell felt intimidated.

>He tried talking to what he assumed was a sentient being
>Jet ran as fast and as far as he could to lure the beast away
>It was kill or be killed
>Custom
>>
>>6088116
>He tried talking to what he assumed was a sentient being
Diplomacy is our strong suit.
>>
>>6088116
>He tried talking to what he assumed was a sentient being
>"This faithful servant was under my command and my command alone, it doesn't matter if you claim this land without the mortals notice. So you better bring your master or reveal your true self, because I'm not talking to a stray cat, because I don't remember pissing on your territory and I alone was the one who dominated the local Raksasha, so either there's a dispute over the terrain or I'm due to a proper apology."

This bitch...
>>
>>6088116
>Use Reflection upon Insight.
>He tried talking to what he assumed was a sentient being
>>
>>6088116
>He tried talking to what he assumed was a sentient being
>>
>>6088116
>He tried talking to what he assumed was a sentient being
Alright Jet just in case its a cat remember to make a pss pss pss sound. Maybe being in the form of a cat does effect its mental state and reactions. Which would be really funny if it gets the feeling of reflection and acts like a cat seeing another cat in the mirror.
>>
>>6088116
>He tried talking to what he assumed was a sentient being
>>
>>6088116
>Talk with a sentient creature.
>I'll speak with you away from the village.
We are too exposed to reveal our heritage.
>>
Jet glanced at the beast for but a moment and began contemplating things for however long it allowed him to. It was clear to him that this was no mere animal. Tigers don’t typically climb on top of buildings like that. Whatever this thing was it was clearly a thinking being, or at least it follows the orders of one. Using his Szorenic abilities he tried to determine what this thing expects of him, if anything at all. The results were less pleasing than he expected.

It expected him to roll over and make things easier.

A drop of sweat rolled down his forehead as he began improvising.
“I do not know who you are or what your business here is, but this faithful servant was under my command, and mine alone. Whether this is your land matters not. You’ve taken what’s mine. So I demand you give me your name, or that of your master so that we may negotiate how you’ll reimburse me for this grave loss.”

The tiger growls yet again and lowers itself closer to the roof of the building as it glares at him. For a moment Jet expected it to speak but as he was focused on it the beast simply disappeared in a blink, appearing right next to him and biting down on his wrist. It was not a painless little nibble either, like one would expect from a tame house-cat. No, the Infernal felt his flesh tearing and blood gushing from the wound as the animal violently and with unprecedented speed started dragging him away.

“S-SHIT!”

If it weren’t for his hellish physiology his bones would’ve broken and his entire arm would’ve been torn from its socket. One moment he was right next to his home, surrounded by Gagarels shredded remains and the next he was surrounded by trees as the fiendish monster yanked him further and further into the wilds. In his desperation he reached for his flame-wand with his free hand and aimed it at the tiger, completely forgetting that the barrel had been empty for a while now.

Thankfully the tiger was just as unaware of this little fact as he was so when it heard the click of the flint being cocked it opened its jaw and dropped Jet before jumping into the thicket. Jet looked around with a frightened expression on his face, aiming his wand at every rustle coming from the bushes until he heard the tigers growl coming from behind him again. But when he turned to look all he saw was more of the woods.

“Essence.”
A voice spoke up, of a much higher pitch than he anticipated. It was a womans voice.
“You tried to use essence on me. I knew it. You are not mortal, are you?”
The answer to that was evident. If he was, he’d be bleeding out on the floor and dying of shock from the grievous wound on his wrist.
“No, no. That won’t do. You dragon-blooded are not welcome here. You will leave. You and those wenches of yours. Or you end up like the fat one.”
>>
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Jet felt the pressure mounting on him. His efforts to diffuse the situation via his usual methods backfired spectacularly, and now the creature is aware that he's an essence user, though in all likelihood it probably already suspected as much. But thankfully it appears to believe he's one of the Terrestrials. Though it's questionable how long he can maintain this facade. Should he use any of his more obviously infernal techniques the deception would be found out. But perhaps even more importantly than that he must ensure the creature does not realize his weapon is empty.

"Markolab, I lost it. Cover my back!"

"T-This is bad, man! This is bad! Jet! We need to get out of here! NOW!"

"What's gotten into you?!"

"This is no god!"

Suddenly Jet heard the feminine voice coming from behind him and he snapped around to face it with his weapon. All the while he was wondering how it could circle around him without him or his inner demon noticing it.
"The rotten eggs of the scarlet bitch will leave or we'll feast on their hearts! The choice is yours little wurm. Will you leave or will you feed?"

"We?"

"U-Uh... Yes! Me and my kin will tear you apart! Last chance, dragonling!"

"Jet! Jet! JET! I beg of you, do NOT agitate it any further!"
Markolab spoke up and Jet angrily demanded he explained what was going on.
"You don't get it! I saw it! I saw it disappear behind the bush! The tiger shrunk down! This is one of the Lunar Exalted! A shapeshifter! Forget the Raksha, this thing is in a whole league of its own! You're not ready to face a threat like that!"

"I can still talk my way out of this. Just watch me!"

"You bloody idiot! Words only work if the other party lets you talk instead of going for your throat as a first response! And this one can see essence mote expenditure! It will attack you like it did last time if you try to engage it in social combat!"

>"Then I'll just have to convince it without using essence."
>"Then I guess we switch to an aggressive diplomatic stance." (Fight)
>"Fine. I accept your offer. Me and my kind will take our leave."
>Custom
>>
>>6089595
>"I'm not going to leave, what are you gonna do about it? You big pussy!" Then do a mad dash towards the fae stronghold

Agitate it even further so it ignore that we're literally luring it into the stronghold. If the rahksha and jet can't handle the lunar individually why not do it together in the fae's own territory.
>>
>>6089595
>"Then I'll just have to convince it without using essence."

>Custom

Living on the edge, like an animal. Intense dislike for Guild merchants, perhaps for slavers who bring giant slave cages around. Dragonblooded too, as the ones who probably buy and procure the most slaves I suppose? Maybe shes a former slave who exalted and broke free. Ask if she killed any of the former slaves we set free, and keep her talking. Jet left the Isles to get away from people like that Guild merchant, so he could make a home that others can't take away.
>>
>>6089595
>"Then I'll just have to convince it without using essence."
>>
>>6089621
+1
>>
>>6089595
Oh sweet Cecelyne, it's a Lunar. The emphasis on "we" gives me the sense that there isn't actually a "we" at all. We might be dealing with a Casteless, or at worst a VERY fresh member of the Pact. Question is whether that tiger is their totem shape or they've already got some Heart's Blood going on.

I think I'll +1 >>6089621 , since it's better than anything I'd come up with yet.
>>
>>6089621
>Support

If this fails we can still lure it to the fae
>>
>>6089621
Fine.
Roll 1d20 and you get a +1 because of the above mentioned custom choice
First 4 considered
Dc 15, crit 18

Also FYI, luring it to the Raksha is an even worse idea than trying to use Szoreny social charms on it. These mofo's are not only 100% immune to the Wyld but they are tailor made to kill wyldspawn
>>
Rolled 17 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>>6090271
Here's your crit, Loom
>>
Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>6090271
Alright damn these fae are useless as shit.
>>
>>6090275
Bruh

>>6090277
Outside the Wyld they are. Only thing they got going for them is that their fake bodies can freely defy the laws of physics and the limits of flesh.
But fight an Unshaped or god forbid, an Ishvara and you're fucked beyond words
>>
Rolled 2 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>>6090271
Oh. Oh my.

>>6090275
Jet straight crushing it.
Our coadjucator once again wondering why he got the crazy bastard assignment.
More prominently wondering why he keeps winning.
>>
Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>6090271
+1, Nice. There was probably a better angle for this Lunar chick but I gave what I had.

>>6090275
Thats the stuff
>>
>>6090290
Markolab: "HE... HE CAN'T KEEP GETTING AWAY WITH IT"

I'll take the liberty to make shit up mostly because I don't know much about Exalted, but my interpretation is that even after Jet being extracted and left to wander out of the wills of Destiny, there might be some other God either rooting for him or outright turning things around to succeed. Or maybe, and this option would be better, is as if Jet somehow is claiming again his true destiny of being someone Great
>>
"Then I'll just have to convince it without essence."
Jet turns around and sweeps the area where the voice came from with his empty firearm, just to keep up appearances.
"Before I give my answer, I have a question of my own."

"HNNNG! No! No questions! Leave or die! It's not that complicated! What are you, stupid?"

The creature's frustration and mannerisms, especially how it keeps breaking the tension with such childish outbursts, suggests that it's not exactly a skilled orator. Frankly, this "Lunar" gives off the impression that it's an uneducated peasant that came into the possession of a modicum of power and now thinks it's the be-all end-all of Creation. An easy opponent, if one plays their cards right.

"No. I'm not. And I'll prove it. You were a slave, weren't you?"

"What?!"
The girly voice was upset.

"Living on the edge, removed from civilization, like a feral beast. Your mannerisms. And the disdain you have towards both the Guild and the Realm. It was a hunch at first. But now I'm all but certain you used to be a slave who broke free."

"Grrr! Shut up!"

The voice once again changed directions, without Jet noticing any obvious movement. He switched to face his foe once more and kept pushing back.
"There's no need to be upset. I did not mean it as an insult, just an observation. But I'm right, aren't I? You're a Lunar, aren't you? Did you receive your Exaltation prior to your escape? Or because of it? Either way, you have my respect. But now to my question. What have you done to the slaves I freed? Have you harmed any of them?"

"W-What?"

"You don't know. I've purchased all the slaves from the man you murdered and freed them. Some chose to set out on their own, others stayed with me. I was just wondering if you were aware of that."

"Y-You lie!"

"Feel free to believe that. But go back to Summer Valley and you'll see the bronze skinned folk of the South. They'll verify everything I said."
Jet paused for a moment and did something that was incredibly reckless, but he felt it was necessary to deliver the "finishing blow". He holstered his fire-wand and spread his arms.
"The truth is that you were correct. I am a Dynast. Or was. I left the Realm precisely to get away from men like that Guild merchant and the corrupt, rotten institutes of the Scarlet Dynasty. I wished to strike out on my own and act in accordance with what I view as righteousness! If the Guild and the Realm are your enemies, know that I have nothing to do with them. We could live and let live, or work together. But make no mistake. If you wish to drive me from MY land and MY people then I will fight tooth and nail and make your life a living hell. So... what will it be Beast? The choice is yours."
>>
There is a long, nerve wracking pause where Jet feels the tension in his hand as he's ready to strike at the first signs of an attack. However none comes as the "Lunar" is also waiting for him to make the first move. Eventually the sound of rustling leaves and snapping branches signals the departure of the creature. Jet lets out a few shouts asking if the tiger is still there but he gets no response. Only his coadjutor speaks back to him.

"How the hell did you manage to do that?!"

"It's simple. Power or no, a fool remains a fool all the same. And... I got lucky reading her, him... it. If my guess was incorrect then this could've been disastrous. But it wasn't."

"The Yozi themselves must be distorting fate with how much you have the devil's own luck..."

"Luck has nothing to do with it and you know it. You chose me for a reason."
Markolab let out a chortle but did not respond. He was willing to concede, if only because the Prince really did manage to impress him.
"Anyway, let's go. Before someone starts worrying about me."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold your horses bud. What are you doing?"

"Going home?"

"With THAT?"

Jet raised up his mangled arm that he almost forgot about. As reality dawned on him and the adrenaline flushed from his system he started feeling the agonizing pain emanating from it. Though it was not bleeding the wound was quite severe. The flesh of his hand was connected to the rest of his arm by only a few threads, exposing plenty of bone and mercury tinged blood. He came to realize that the tiger was probably only so easy to influence because it felt woozy from accidentally getting high on heavy metal fumes.

"Shit... That hurts! Please tell me it can heal!"

"Of course. Nothing short of complete amputation or wounds inflicted by powerful magics can hobble a Celestial for any extended period of time. Unfortunately injuries this severe can still take a while to heal. Which brings us to our current predicament."

"What do you mean?"

"Come now. You can't seriously be thinking you can just waltz back with a mangled hand like that. The mortals might be stupid and easy to deceive, but keeping such a thing hidden from two Dragon-blooded is quite the task. They see that your wounds don't bleed, that you didn't go into shock, or how fast something that should've crippled you for life heals and they'll know something is up."

"If I disappeared for the duration it'll look just as suspicious."

"Not if you say that you got wounded chasing the beast that killed Gagarel and you need to find a healer. The way I see it, this is just the PERFECT opportunity for you to disappear for a little while..."

"And go to Hell."
>>
"You catch on quick. Think about it. You've been getting by with that little toy of yours. See where that got you. The way I see it, it's about time for you to get some gear worthy of a Prince. Not to mention all the opportunities for training that you can find in Malfeas. And it'll be piss easy getting a replacement for the dead Puppeteer. Besides, we're a few years overdue with your official inauguration."

"Yeah, right..."

"Still not convinced? Well what if I told you we have our own replacement for Firedust in Hell? It's abundant, much more stable, and best of all, cheap. So you can finally reload your firewand and not go broke doing so. Well? How about it? Want me to pinpoint the nearest entrypoint to Cecelyne for you? Come on! It'll be fun! You get to meet your peers, make some friends and show everyone who Mnemon fucking Jet is!"

>"Fine. Might as well get it over with."
>"Nice try but I'm not falling for your dangling carrot like some donkey."
>Custom?
>>
>>6091347
>"Fine. Might as well get it over with."
I'm not convinced we can put this off that much longer. We JUST pushed our luck to its limits.
>>
>>6091347
>"Fine. Might as well get it over with."

WOOOOOO GOING TO HELL! Glad that Custom write in worked out. I was a little worried I had guessed wrong, instead of a former slave that it was just some crazy ass exalt who loves being a violent territorial animal.
>>
On the other hand Jet is crazy and unpredictable....Push his luck even more and try to follow the Tiger girl to ask her to heal our wound. See where her lair is. Get tended by a feral princess mononoke woman. Could be a real contender for the Jetbowl, though Kaya will win in the end.
>>
>>6091347
>"Fine. Might as well get it over with."
fuck it, we ball
>>
>>6091347
>"Fine. Might as well get it over with."
>>
>>6091347
>You know Markolab, For all that I berate you and sometimes vent my torment on you, when you've got a good idea, you've got a good idea.
>Visit hell.
>>
>>6091347
>"Fine. Might as well get it over with."
Go to Hell, self.
>>
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Jet sighed. He did not have it in him to argue. And truth be told, he kind of agreed with what Markolab said. Hiding his injuries would be a hassle and a difficult facade to maintain.
"Fine. Fine. I might wish I could vent my torment on you most of the time, but when you're right you're right."

"Excellent! Now the closest entry point to Hell should be-"

"Hold it. I'm not going to go without at least telling the others why I have to disappear for a while."

"Tch. Fine. Have it your way. Just make sure you're careful. And keep that arm covered for Yozi's sake!"

In lieu of anything more suitable Jet gathered up some plant fibers and created makeshift bandages out of them. They soaked with his blood rather quick, but at least they helped conceal the true extent of the damage and helped to sell his story. He then stumbled back home and found Eruka, the blacksmith's daughter, to tell her about how a tiger injured him and he must seek immediate medical attention. He also begged her to inform his family about what happened to him. That should provide a good enough alibi.

Jet then left the village following Markolab's guidance until he reached what once must've been a swamp but has dried out a long time ago. The ground was now cracked, with a fine layer of salt that settled at its top when the waters evaporated. What once must've been a marshland teeming with life is now nothing more than a salt-flat that can't even support a few patches of dried out grass. While it was definitely a bit of a sad sight Jet wasn't sure if there really was an entrance to Hell here.

"Make no mistake, Jet. This is the real deal. So be careful. Cecelyne, The Endless Desert, is the border between Creation and Malfeas and desolation is one of her domains. All places physical and spiritual ruin are potential gateways to her."

"Come now. You expect me to believe every slum in Creation is a portal to Hell?"

"No. Only potentially. All have a chance of connecting to Cecelyne, even if only briefly. But that chance is admittedly small. Why do you think it's so common that vagrants on the streets have such a bad tendency of disappearing without a trace? You think they all just move or that there are so many serial killers out there? No my friend. A good few of them simply go down the wrong alley at the wrong moment and they end up in the Endless Desert before they even realize they left Creation. Where they end up dying or they make their way to Malfeas where they'll wish that they perished."

"So what do I do? Just wander around aimlessly until I randomly get to Hell?"

"No. Just follow your heart. It knows where its home is."
>>
Jet scoffed at the Coadjutors mad ramblings. But he soon found himself humbled as he was swiftly overcome with what he could only describe as homesickness for a place he hasn't been to yet. He felt a pull in his chest and he started walking in a cardinal direction. The sheet of slat flaked away into silver sand and the sky darkened above him so slowly and gradually he did not know when exactly he left Creation, only that he was no longer in it.

There was nothing around him but a silver wasteland with only endless dunes all around and absolutely no life. The sky above was as dark as the nights of Calibration itself, yet it burned with the innumerable, dim, green flame of alien stars.
"What the-"

"Don't stare too long. It's not wise to seek understanding of the patterns of Hell's constellations."

"Why?"

"In Creation the stars are part of the tapestry of Fate, and hold the secret designs of Destiny. Our stars are no such things. Each one was a demon sage who learned a piece of knowledge forbidden by the Yozi. Orabilis, The End of All Wisdom hurls these transgressors to the sky where they slowly burn away in Ligier, The Green Sun's light. You might enjoy protection from such harsh treatment... but I still wouldn't push my luck. So don't stare at them too hard, lest you learn something from them."

"Is everything going to be this weird from now on?"

"Ohoho. We are just getting started Prince! And you better acclimate quick!"

Jet sighed.
"So. What now?"

"Kneel. Offer a prayer to Cecelyne, ask her for safe passage, and start walking. And be diligent. The journey takes five days, regardless of travel speed. But you shouldn't offend Lady Cecelyne by not taking her seriously."
>>
>If you care to read the journey through the Endless Desert, read this
>>
>>6092041
. . .

I saw the trust coming as soon as she said she had been there for years before her first child.
But sweet fuck, that's messed up.

Good horror man.
>>
>>6092041
Bro can't catch a break, holy shit
>>
>>6092041
zam. is that something from exalted or is this your own creation, OP ?
>>
>>6092041
Spooked. Jet has best and worst luck.
>>
>>6092290
It's actually canon. The twist is that it usually doesn't end this way.
They just ask you for help. If you refuse you get kicked out, called a shithead dickhead and wverything you ate or drank turns to stand in your stomach.
If you do ypu now owe them a favor. Which could be anything. Literally.
>>
>>6092041
Jet just can't have normal sex it's either rape or really arkward
>>
Finally this nightmare can end."

"What are you talking about? This was one of the smoothest journeys I had."

Malfeas, The Demon City, The realm of Brass and Basalt, Hell.

Jet heard many stories of it, either as a child for the purpose of education or as a Prince when Markolab gushed about its glories. But nothing, absolutely nothing could prepare him for what it is truly like. And yet, it almost seemed familiar to him. Towers of brass shining with a green glow appeared over the horizon, immediately breaking the dreadful monotony of the endless desert. But before he could see any of them with any real clarity something else grasped his attention: Music.

Hundreds of kilometers away from the borders of the city he could still hear the cacophony of Hell echoing over the sea of silver sand. The sound of drums beating to the rhythm of his own heart, his bones resonating with the angelic beauty of a million brass instruments and his ears were caressed by the sweetest melodies produced by innumerable wind instruments. It was loud, chaotic, wild and beautiful beyond words.

"What is this?"

"Ah. Home, sweet home. I told you that I hated silence. Well it's not just me. Silence is the worst thing you can hear in Hell. It means your death is imminent as the Silent Wind is upon you. But Adorjan hates noise, so in every district of every layer we play music to fend her off. It doesn't work always, but it works enough to keep doing it. And we also do it simply because we love music."

"It's beautiful."

"Isn't it? We play all manner of percussion and wind instruments. Not strings though, they aren't loud enough for our liking. Anyway, it's much better up close. Let's not dally!"

Several hundred miles away a gaggle of demons were sitting at a pier. Not one of them looked anything alike, yet they all sat in the same manner at the edge of the demon city and enjoyed their lunch break munching on freshly harvested meat-fruits. The pier had no water, the ships docking there were sand-skippers meant to ride the dunes of Cecelyne. These sailors and dock-workers were part of a Sodality, Hell's analogue for the guilds and business cartels of Creation. This particular one, The Bleak Sand Argosy, is a shipping company that exploits the fact that the Endless Desert borders each and every layer of the Demon City so they use it to ship bulk cargo and personnel vast distances. One of the demons looks up from its lunch and almost spits it out.

"Look boys! There's someone coming from the desert!"

"It's just a mirage rookie. You'll get used to them. Don't go out there or you'll die. Just get back to eating."

"No cap'n! Look! It's really there!"

"Well I'll be. You're right. Hmmmm. Not a Guild caravan. Nor cultists. It's probably just some poor sap who accidentally ventured in."

"What should we do captain?"

"Heh. Well we better go and "rescue" the poor mortal, lest the air of Malfeas gets to him first."
>>
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The demons all share a laugh as they either finish or set aside their meals and start prepping their ship in order to capture the free human and stick him in a prayer mill. But as they are getting ready something catches the eye of their look-out who draws the attention of the rest. The eagerness of the demons disappears in a flash of green light as a blazing pillar of essence erupts from the man. The captain, who was quite excited now, accidentally drops the pipe he was smoking until that point.
"Shit..."

Before Jet even reached the precipice of the Demon City a parade of hundreds of demons arrived at the port to greet their newly arrived prince, drawn there by his blazing anima banner which activated on its own when he got close enough to the city. A large, man-sized bug surrounded by fifty banner-men on each side and an entire band of musicians behind him cried out.

"Rejoice brothers and sisters! REJOICE! For our newest hero hath arrived!"
The quite large crowd of demons who gathered on the scene out of curiosity all knelt out of respect and lowered their gaze as to not offend their new lord. The insectoid demon too bowed, or whatever equated to a bow with its bizarre anatomy.
"My lord! It's an honor to be in your presence! Please! Allow us to serve the chosen one of the Demon Princes!"
It gestured towards a rather large and extravagant palanquin carried by six blood apes.

"Erm... thank you?"

"Please my prince! There's no need for that! There's no greater joy for us lowly serfs than to serve you, your highness!"

Markolab chuckled.
"That's not true, of course. It's just his job to act this way. But he seems good at his job at least."

The spider-like demon continued.
"Now then, we've prepared a parade in your honor! Your esteemed mother is in attendance as well! Do you wish to participate? Or would you like us to take you to the Conventicle Malfeasant right away so you may get right down to business?"


>"My what?" (See the parade)
>"I don't care, just take me where I need to be." (Attend official business)
>Custom
>>
>>6092827

>"My what?" (See the parade)
Mother? Might as well have our parade
>>
>>6092827
>"My what?" (See the parade)

Its partay time
>>
>>6092827
>My what? (See the parade)
What the hell, we're in Hell! Why not?
>>
>>6092827
>Take me to where I must go.
>Get me a drink and something to eat.
We have no time for this chicanery.
>>
>>6092827
>"My what?" (See the parade)
>>
>>6092827
>"My what?" (See the parade)
>>
No update today. Sorry.
Playan' tabletop so I got no time
>>
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“My…”
Jet shook his head.
“You know what? Never mind. Take me to this parade.”

Though he did not particularly care about being celebrated by a bunch of heaven forsaken demons, curiosity got the better of him when the larvae mentioned his “mother”. And the fact that Markolab was eerily silent only further exacerbated the issue. But this did not matter to the demons one bit. They were simply glad to be of service, either that or that they could go to the parade and enjoy the festivities a little bit.

He was guided into the palanquin, which the blood-apes picked up and started carrying with great fanfare. The loud music emanating from all around the place was now blaring next to him as well, blending in with the rest. He was carried in this fashion down the many, many, many streets of hell and through the silken curtains he could see the serfs of hell gathering outside to look at him, all eager to sneak a peek at him. Though a great deal of them looked like they had malicious intentions, or maybe they were just unwholesome to look at for his still human eyes.

Something that really stuck out to him was the sheer number of them. It seemed unending.
“Are there really so many demons? And all these buildings? Do they live in all of them?”

“Those aren’t buildings. They are parts of Malfeas. Most of them aren’t for habitation. They have no doors, no rooms, nothing. If you want to live in one of them, you often have to dig into the structures yourself. What you see is the flesh of the Demon King, his ribs inverted and poking through his own flesh. The buildings only exist because they please him in an aesthetic sense. Anyway, I suggest you stop admiring the scenery. We got more important things to watch out for.”

At that Jet pulled the curtain to the side and poked his head out, only to see a never-ending ocean of demons, all writhing, squirming and flailing around in joy as his little entourage joins a much larger procession. Then he heard the voice of an announcer cut through the crowd via some sort of sound magnifying device.

“ALRIGHT YOU SHITTY SERFS! I hope you’re all having one HELL of a time! Because we just got word that our new Champion has JUST arrived to grace you with his magnificence! Behold! The 49th Green Sun Prince! He has come to join his Mother and Sister! The one and only, the magnificent, the mother of the Chosen, The Princess of the Yozi, The Phylactery-Womb! LILLUN!”

“By the Dragons-”
>>
I tried posting yesterday but I got a Tor exit node that was permabanned on the IP gacha.
Will try to rectify that today
>>
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The figure in question, as well as the other gargants guarding it, were towering monstrosities on the scale of the smaller warstriders Jet had seen in parades back home. The difference was that these behemoths did not move with the same mechanical precision as the engines of war the Dragon-blooded employ. These had the fluidity of motion and grace of flesh, yet he struggled to call them living beings. They had the vague outline of a man but twisted and distorted, as if to mock the human form. Yet the parts that were not subjected to the same warping had a haunting, alien beauty to them.

The "thing" they called Lilun must've realized Jet was staring at it, as the giant demonic figure's head turned to face him. It spoke with a mechanical voice without having its gaping maw move.
"Be not afraid, Prince. Just smile and wave. Smile and wave to your subjects. For they love you."

He did as he was told. He couldn't even fathom the idea of going against the wishes of this beautiful monstrosity. As if it was warping its surroundings and drawing everyone near it into compliance with its wishes. Jet smiled and waved, still half-obscured by the curtains until their little parade reached a dome or tumor-like structure of verdigris covered brass, at which point everyone but the personal servants of Lillun and the demons carrying Jet were all that remained. The sole entrance of the place was a gate lined with sinewy brass and jewel-like teeth. As they entered the gate shut its "jaw" behind them and another one opened in the front, allowing them entry into the dome which was lit on the inside by exposed nerves brilliantly glowing with the green essence they carried. Only now that he was not exposed directly to the oppressive light of the tyrannical green sun of Hell did he realize just how much it pressed down on him. He started breathing with a bit more ease as Lillun spoke to the demons carrying them.
"Take us to my chamber."

"B-But my lady. The Yozi-"

"My chamber."

"Y-Yes mistress."

They are carried through what looks like a city within the tumor. Unlike what he had seen up until now this one was obviously designed for habitation and yet it felt much less lived in than the crowded streets were. They are carried past many large and frankly bizarre establishments before they are taken to a grand palace that, according to the demons, was Lilluns own estate.

"Markolab. What is this place?"

"The Conventicle Malfeasant. I can't tell you much more than that. It's one of the truly forbidden places in all of Hell. Only those Yozi who took part in the Green Sun Prince initiative are allowed entry, and those they allow. Not even the unquestionable, not even other, neutral Yozi are allowed to enter. It's a place built for you, Jet. I imagine all the facilities that we passed are here solely for your pleasure. And that of Lillun of course."
>>
It took the demons about an hour before they carried both of them in and put them through the expected protocols. Swarms of tiny demons crawled all over them in order to cleanse them of all filth before they were escorted into what must be Lillun's personal chambers, which were stocked with an assortment of strange yet tantalizing refreshments. It was here that the humongous creature he so far knew as Lillun dismissed her servants and revealed her true nature once the place cleared. The white, marble-like belly of the thing opened up, revealing a large, hollow compartment on the inside where a seemingly mortal woman was strung up with large ribbons of pure, glowing essence. This thing wasn't just as big as a warstrider. It was one.

The woman was released from the coils of light, onto the floor where she sighed with relief as she adjusted the semi-transparent silken veil she was wearing.
"Finally. I thought that parade was never going to end!"

"My sincerest apologies, Lady Lillun."
The warstrider spoke on its own.

"It's okay Geneva. It's my job after all. I just like to complain. Anyway, you may dock and go into standby mode."

"Mistress, I insist that I remain by your side as long as the prince is here."

"How many times do we have to go over this? My little darlings know better than to harm their mother. Now. Standby."
The war machine gave her a bow and walked out of the room with thundering footsteps.
"Hellstriders, right? Gotta love them. But they have a bad tendency of forgetting who controls whom. Now... Come closer 49. Let me see your face."

"49?"

"That's you, silly. The 49th Green Sun Prince. That's a new record, you know? We never had so many champions at once before! Now please, come here."

Jet took a few cautious steps forward and his suspicions were quickly confirmed. This Lillun figure may have appeared human from a distance, she's however anything but. Under her elegant but not at all subtle clothing a visible bump in her belly could be seen. It seemed innocuous enough at first but the occasional glow it emits and the squirming, strange shapes underneath do hint at something much more sinister. Her eyes too were odd. Ever shifting in color and the shape of her pupils it was hard looking into them for any extended period of time. And her features, like Jet's own, carried a sense of perfection that simply did not belong on a human. She was hauntingly beautiful, offputtingly alien and terrifyingly predatory all rolled into one monstrous package.

Lillun however noticed him checking out her baby bump, which she began caressing in an almost perverted fashion.
"I know little one, I know. It's not fair that your brother left you all alone. But Yozi willing, you will join them soon enough. Yes you will!"

"Pardon my bluntness, but what is this whole "mother" business?"
>>
"It's perfectly okay to ask dear. You had no way to know about it. Some of your brothers call me "mother", others "sister", many don't call me anything at all. But you may call me Lillun. I am the Phylactery Womb. The one who carried your Exaltation, and those of your brothers and sisters. And I will carry it again. Though I am not one of you, I am as close to family as you have beyond each other."
She let out a menacing chuckle.
"You appear confused. Has your coadjutor not told you? Or is it damaged?"

"No. That he hasn't informed me about yet."

"Not surprising. It's not something you need to concern yourself with. To put it simply, your Exaltation needs a place to return to upon your demise so that the deplorable servants of Heaven don't get their claws on it. Do you know why that's necessary? Because all fifty of your shards used to be Solar ones that the Yozi claimed as their own. And I am their protector. It's the reason for the tight security around me."
She brushed a few locks of hair out of her face and her hair returned to a perfect hime cut as she took a few sultry steps towards him.
"But that's enough of that. It's your turn to talk now. Starting with your name."
She tried to reach out to Jet to caress his face but he reflexively leaned away from her.
"Aww. There's no need to be shy, my handsome little devil. I wouldn't hurt you or any of my children."
She gazed deep into his eyes but her wry smile swiftly disappeared as almost seemed to recognize him.
"I know you! But... that's not possible. How old are you? Eighteen?"

"That's correct."

"That means I've been in Hell longer than you were alive. Just who are you?"


>"Mnemon Jet" (Tell her the truth)
>"Master Saffron" (Lie)
>Custom
>>
>>6096265
>Do you recognise who I was, Before I was Born amongst the Dynasty?

Id she doesn't recognise us post rebirth, then I say give her our proper name.
>>
>>6096286
+1

>Captcha: KANG
Tf are you trying to say?
>>
>>6096286
Support.

We had those dreams
>>
>>6096286
>"Mnemon Jet" (Tell her the truth)
No need to lie and get caught up in some shit
>>
>>6096286
Support
>>
>>6096265
>"Mnemon Jet" (Tell her the truth)
>>
>>6096286
+1
>>
>>6096265
>"Mnemon Jet" (Tell her the truth)
Lilun seems like she'd correct us if she indeed meant to ask about a previous life of ours.
>>
>>6096265
>"Mnemon Jet" (Tell her the truth)
>>
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"If you're saying I look familiar then-"
Jet took a step back and spread his arms as his curiosity got piqued. His shadow roused awake and covered him, hiding his "true form" which he was in since he arrived in Hell. Once the tenebrous veil retreated his old visage returned however Lilluns demeanor changed. The look on her face was one of pure shock. Gone was the proud and confident demon-servant. Now she was a confused woman.
"My name is Mnemon Jet. Prince of the - well, I suppose it's Hell now."

Lillun remained frozen for quite a while as she tried processing what she was seeing. Only an uncomfortable amount of time later did she slowly inch closer to the freshly arrived prince and she reached out to touch his cheek. Jet himself became immensely confused as well once she started rubbing his face.
"You... really are..."
Lillun spoke and her face contorted into a wicked, wolfish grin.
"Hers!"

Jet felt terrified, to the point of retreating. But as he tried to pull away Lillun grabbed him by the waist and locked him in place. In addition her Hellstrider also barged into the room due to sensing the emotional turmoil of her mistress.
"HEY! LET GO!"

But Lillun wouldn't and the armed weapons of the terrifying hell-tech kept him from escaping on his own. Then the one they call the "Mother of Princes" pulled him in and gave him a big, loving hug.
"Oh I simply can't believe it! It's really you! I'm so happy to meet you! Jet, was it?"

He did not feel any more certain about his situation than he already did.
"What are you talking about woman?! And I already ordered you to let go of me!"

But Lillun wouldn't relent.
"Now why would I do that, silly? I just met my nephew for the first time! No way in Hell I'm gonna let you go! Now come on! Give Auntie Lillun a kiss!"

"WHAT?!"

The woman then burrowed her face into his shoulder and gave it a big sniff.
"Ah! YES! There's no mistaking it! How could I not see it before? You even smell like her. My, oh my, Big Sis Mnemon really did a fine work, making such a strapping young man such as yourself! It would almost make me jealous. Were you not my little baby boy now!"

Finally Jet had enough and his mercurial joints all popped out of place, allowing him to escape Lillun’s hold and to back away from her. Surprisingly the warmachine did not blast him into oblivion for that move, but that probably has to do with Lillun’s infatuation with him.
"Enough you mad-woman! Big Sister?! MNEMON! I demand you start making sense immediately or I'm bringing this whole place down! Yozi or not!"

The woman let out a devious chuckle.
"What's so hard to understand, little nephew? Do you need it spelled out for you? Did you not inherit her brains? Or did she pass on her paranoia to you? I am Lillun. Youngest daughter of Her Majesty, Queen of the Realm, Protector of Creation and Guardian of the Realm Defense Grid, The Scarlet Empress!”
>>
“You expect me to believe that? V’neef is the youngest daughter of the Empress. And don’t even try some “secret daughter” story. I’m not some stupid grass-herding dog-farmer from the Threshold!”

“Ah yes. Big V’neef. I remember the bitch. An experiment from mother dearest in matters of blood purity. But come now, if you’re smarter than that then you surely remember how fond Her Redness always was of censoring anything she didn’t like. Ever heard of House Manosque?”

Jet did not budge from his position but he did feel the pressure. Manosque used to be a great house, until they staged a rebellion against The Scarlet Empress. Then they were unpersoned. A later example is House Iselse who tried the same. Neither of which could be openly talked about in fear of persecution from the Black Helms or worse. And Dragons know how many other Houses vanished because they displeased her holiness.

“It was her, you know. Your dear mother. Or is it grandmother? Ah, no matter. You see, my lovely big sister Mnemon told me back when I came of age, that all of Mothers children got to go in the Realm Defense Grid once and learn its secrets, should they need to inherit her mantle one day. Of course now I know she used me as a sacrificial lamb and used sorcery to see through my eyes in case I successfully got in. Strangely enough Mother agreed and took me in the complex, right after dispelling whatever Charm Mnemon used on me. But it wasn’t to educate me, oh no. You see, Mother never was as smart as she wanted people to think she is. The dumb could never figure out how to maintain the weapon, let alone fire it without nearly blowing Creation up in the process. So she employed the help of the only ones who knew how to repair it and keep it operational, the ones who were bound as slaves and made to build it. The Demons. But she couldn’t freely command the ones she actually needed, no. She had to bargain for it with the souls of her own kin. And it just so happened that she got a volunteer that day!”

Jet now actually felt terrified as the woman seemingly sunk deeper into her own madness. But he couldn’t run away with that guardian of hers blocking the only exit. However his fear turned back to confusion as Lillun embraced him, tighter than before.
“I-I had nothing to do with your banishment-”

“Hush, my sweet. I know. And I do not resent you, or your mother, or even mine. No, I’m quite thankful in fact! You see, dear nephew, when the Yozi took me in I was no longer insignificant little Lillun. The Demon Princes showed me the truth! I ceased being a mere Dragon-blooded and was now their chosen priestess of hell undivided. Singing their glory and the truth for all to hear! And for my loyal service, they made me their Phylactery Womb, your mother. I became more than I could imagine in their service than even the Empress could only dream of!”
>>
“In that I am just like you.”


“Please, Lady Lillun. While that’s all very interesting, and I may even be inclined to believe your story. There is something very, very wrong with what you just said. I am nothing like you.”

Lillun seemed greatly amused.
“Oh that’s precious! You’re still in denial! Little nephew, I know the kind of indoctrination you were put through. It took me quite a while to come around to the Yozi and recognize that they are the true, legitimate lords of Creation. And yours is probably more thorough than what was around in my time. So I know for a FACT you ARE like me! Any self-respecting Dynast would’ve spilled their guts the moment a demon offered them a throne in Hell! So either you’re one of the few resentful dregs that couldn’t make it in Mothers little empire, or the scarce few who are smarter than to follow her stupid games! And between you and me, you don’t look like a fool, nephew.”

Jet thought about talking back to her, telling her to choke on her vile, poisonous words, as he has only noble intentions and that he’s eternally loyal to the Realm and Creation. But he knew better than to gloat about such things around the “demon princess”. Especially because it has a not-so-insignificant chance of potentially endangering his sister as well.

“But to get to the point. Now that I have true family to rely on, I have a proposition for you, little nephew. I need your help. Out of everyone on the Infernal Deliberative, only you have any idea how truly rotten The Realm really is. I want you to help me save it. To deliver the mercy of the Yozi to them personally.”

“You want me to destroy The Realm?!”

“I want you to save it! You’ll learn soon enough what the plans of the Yozi entail. If we don’t do something about it the Dynasts will oppose it to their last breath and once they are reduced to dust, the only ones left will be the cowards, the unfit vermin. I don’t want that. Mother, Mnemon, my brothers and sisters, if we want the best of the Dragon-Blooded to have a place in the Paradise the Yozi would make, we need to ruin them, corrupt them and break them until they learn to love it. That’s the only way they can survive.”
Lillun’s expression carries genuine sorrow in it.
“That’s why I need you nephew. Promise to help me save our kin by all means necessary, and I promise to throw my support behind you. I may not be a proper prince but my word carries weight amidst the demons, the Yozi worshippers and even some of your brethren. Please, nephew. Help me save them!”

>Accept
>”I’ll consider it”
>Refuse
>Custom
>>
>>6098155
>"I'll consider it. This is my first visit in Malfeas and I barely know what it means to be a Green Sun Prince. I need more time to come to terms with myself, with this, with everything."
>>
>>6098155
>"I'll consider it."
>>
>>6098155
>Accept
Yeah, we can break pacts freely. Did you anons forget?
>>
>>6098155
Did she imply that this V'neef lady is an incest baby between the Empress and one of her sons, an incest baby between her children, or some kind of homunculus I wonder?

So Lillun wants us to "save" subvert The Realm before the Yozi plots can destroy it, atleast supposedly to have the best dragon-blooded live in Paradise. The Empress, Mnemon, the other Clan leaders and strong dragon-blooded. To ruin them and deprive them of their states and colonies, their wealth and soldiers. To corrupt them into believing some kind of Yozi colored religious destiny. To corrupt them into feeding off the tit of whatever super citystate we can create. Break them and reforge them into ours. Thats pretty crazy ambitious I gotta say if thats what shes aiming for. Also a lot of dead dragon-blooded from the mid and lower ranks. I do feel bad for her getting straight up sacrificed by her family tho, heaven sacrificed Jet out of his rightful place so I think there is some similarity for Jet to feel for her.

Would Jet agree to that as he is? Not outright. Agree but not in spirit so he can have her support and try to leverage that into building up? I think so. Try not to get caught in whatever weird plans she has or spin them into something we can use. Do just enough to keep reaping the benefits and not get on her bad side. It would be quite a balancing act I'm sure. Otherwise I imagine it'll be we Consideration Limbo this decision until we really need her help.

>Accept

I think the benefits will outweigh the tasks she ends up trying to give us. Hopefully we could spin whatever idea she has into something we can work with and use to build up. Plus she can probably get us gear, demons, yozi cultists in Creation, ally Prince and Princesses, teachers, etc. Probably worth the trouble.

Also I don't expect people to support this custom but I had fun writing it something with the idea of if she could ever get over this whole 'I must corrupt my family after they sacrificed me' thing.
>Custom
Is that what happened to you Aunt Lillun, did they break you until you loved it? An eternity of giving birth to children who are not children, connection without connection, only for them to die in plots. The other children of the Empress have their Clans and for your suffering you were given yours. A Clan with the ashes and unmarked graves of the Princes before me.

What Paradise will it be even in victory? The Yozi will not and cannot forget the pain and loss that drove them into madness. It will be a Paradise designed by infinite but maddened minds. A twisted beauty. Leave the Yozi to their plans. If what you seek is connection with your kin let us enjoy the connection of blood we share and what fruits it may bring in future. I just want to build a home for me and my family. For your great nieces and nephews.
>>
>>6098282
+1
>>
>>6098155
>”I’ll consider it”
>>
>>6098155
>>6098282
+1
>>
>>6098282
Only that she was an exercise in eugenics. (Not really anything more outrageous than what the Great Houses are up to all the time)
She simply got the purest DB she could find and made a baby with it. Could be her direct relative (and probably was) but could be not.
The thing is that it worked. House V'neef is small and relatively new but they sport the highest rate of Exaltation, ehich pisses a lot of people off.
Especially Mnemon because while she tries her hardest to be like her Mom, V'neef is like a carbon copy of her without even trying. Both in terms of looks and ability

Incest isn't really that big of a deal in the Dynasty and only doesn't happrn more often becaude political marriages are more important atm than eugenics, and bexause they try to not let familial attachments form in the families
>>
"Break them until they like it? Is that what they've done to you? You were tortured into subservience and you act like it's some sort of religious experience. And this "Paradise" you speak of? Is it perchance similar to the landscape here? If so, I urge you to look out at the cacophony of madness that's on the street, at the myriad monsters that all look like they consume infants to nourish themselves. You claim this is a mercy, a kindness, but it's death. It's the obliteration of all that we know, all that our kind is. These lords of yours look every bit as twisted and broken as the tales about them suggest. So I'm not too-"

"Exactly! Make no mistake, it will be a long, arduous and unimaginably painful process. But like cutting off an infected limb to save a patient, it is very much a necessary one! Yes, the Yozi are broken but so is Creation, you just don't realize it yet. Jet, you need to understand that we were not meant to rule, nor were the golden lords or the usurper gods! The Yozi are the architects of Creation. Its current state and all the corruption within it is a result of the perversion we unleashed upon it! The natural order of things has been upset, Heaven houses only traitor dogs feasting on a decaying world's carcass!"

"YOU ARE ADVOCATING FOR THE RAPE OF OUR DYNASTY! OUR HOME! OUR WORLD!"

"YES I AM!"
Lillun snaps at him with righteous fury.
"Creation was violated once already and only an equal tragedy can set it back on course! You do not realize it yet but we are heading for judgment day Jet! You think Hell is the only one gearing for an apocalyptic war? The Wyld-born and the forces of Death too want to bring forth the end times! Not to mention how Creation is already circling the drain, and that the returning Solars will probably break it well before any one of them could fire the first shot! The simple fact is, nephew, that there are only three possible fates for Creation! It's destroyed by an outside threat, it keeps slowly decaying until nothing is left, or the Yozi reclaim what's rightfully theirs, as they are the only ones who want to and can fix it! It might take ten thousand years of penance and pain, but it's a small price to pay for eternal salvation! Especially when all other options lead to death!"
Lillun then takes a deep breath to compose herself.
"So, I'll ask you one more time, nephew. Will you help me? If we work together we could lessen the suffering it will take to fix things, maybe even shorten it if we can show the Yozi that we want to repent for our sins, for lashing out against our makers."
>>
>>6098821
I'm starting to regret telling her our name
>>
>>6098821
>"YOU ARE ADVOCATING FOR THE RAPE OF OUR DYNASTY! OUR HOME! OUR WORLD!"
>"YES I AM!"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FaLK5VlQcC4
>>6099563
auntie ain't right on the head
>>
>>6099677
But is she slightly less crazy then the actual yozi?
>>
>>6098821
Bitch needs to get off the juice cause i've seen crack addicts more sane than her.
>>
>>6099681
Yes. By a fucking lot actually
>>
>>6099752
Exactly what I figure. Unless and even if our hell estate comes with a bunch of free gear and money and servants I think she's probably as good of a patron or ally, or whatever her full support amounts to, as we can get. A lot better then getting locked in with crazy Tartarus decayed titaness yozi who could mindbreak poor Jet if the mood struck.
>>
Only a mild amount of confusion diluted the sheer, unadulterated disgust of Jet. Despite being hard to swallow there's no denying that this woman is a fellow Dynast. Blood calls for blood after all. So his aunt being such a pathetic excuse of an Exalt was infuriating. To proverbially bend over in such a manner to the enemy of the Realm was unthinkable to him. He would not betray everything he once stood for so callously. And yet, the things she said unnerved him. He knows she's correct. The undead have already besieged Thorns, and he saw first-hand just how deep the Fair Folk had penetrated into Creation. And fate only knows what else lurks in the shadows of the world.

So as much as it infuriates him, he does need her help, especially in this strange, alien place. The question is, just how willing is he to trust such an unhinged madwoman.
"Aunt Lillun-"
He sighed.
"I am unwilling to accept your solution to the problem. However, I do acknowledge that you are correct in your assessments. So while I'm not going to agree to anything just now, I am willing to at least consider your offer. And I promise I'll give you an answer before I depart from Hell. Would that be acceptable to you?"

Lillun smiled.
"Oh, dear Jet. It saddens me that you doubt me so. But it pleases my heart that you possess the wisdom of your forebearers. Of course, I'll eagerly await your answer once you've made your decision."

"Thank you. Then I shall take my leave, as I've kept the others waiting for long enough. Excuse me."

Being excused, Jet went back to his entourage of demons who patiently awaited their master so they may carry him to his destination. The Thing Infernal, or the Althing Infernal, or The Infernal Thing, The Hellthing, or simply The Thing serves as the very heart of the Conventicle Malfeasant. It is a towering structure of the most tainted brass, overlooking the entirety of the dome. It is even more forbidden than the rest of the place, with only the Princes and the humaniform Jouten of the Yozi being allowed to enter. As such the demons that carried him had set down the 49th Prince and wished him good luck as they bowed before him.

Even Markolab was nervous.
"I never thought I'd ever get to go in there. Jet, please. I know we have our little disagreements from time to time, and we have our banter. But I'm BEGGING you. Be very, very careful in there."

"Why? What awaits me inside?"

"At minimum? The Seven Yozi patrons of the Reclamation. Your bosses. At worst? Every one of your colleagues. Each action, each word that leaves your mouth, each minute reaction of yours will be judged and measured."

"Then I'm good. There hasn't been an expectation I couldn't measure up to and exceed yet."

"Except when you were sabotaged. And like crabs in a bucket, your peers will try to drag you down. Remember that hotshot."

Noting the advice of his coadjutor Jet pushed open the massive, brass doors of the tower. And stepped inside.
>>
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The prince found himself in a long tunnel that tested his sense of direction and his sanity to its very limits. This long hallway stretched far longer than the outer appearance of the spire suggested. He thought that it must be the same, or at least a similar warping effect to what made the dome bigger on the inside than it was on the outside. But that was not all. When he saw light at the end and stepped out into it he saw a large, open chamber that served as the gathering hall for the Infernal Exalted.

In a ring around the edge several seats were carved into a basalt-like material, with each seat having a tunnel like his own. They all lead to the same place, the one and only door that leads into the spire. He knew this because when he looked forward he saw the exact same door at the end of it that he used to come in. And there were no other doors on the outside of the structure.

His dizziness was momentarily cut short when a man, with hair as green as hell’s sun shook his shoulder.
“About time you fucking showed up. Do you have any idea how long we’ve been waiting for you?”

“Wha-Erm. My apologies.”

“Save it, shut up and do as I say. Now come.”
The man practically dragged Jet by his arm to what appeared to be a command console of sorts. But it resembled a deep-sea animal more than any machine he’s ever seen. It was fleshy and pulsating, with magical glyphs being projected out of crystalized outcrops of puss.
“To my most esteemed peers, and to our most gracious and benevolent masters! Welcome! And thank you for attending!”

While the man talked Jet observed those who’ve taken up some of the seats around the ring. Despite being named the “49th Green Sun Prince” far less than 48 people have shown up. Counting the man next to him who’s currently giving a speech there were a grand total of ten people in the chamber. But even these men and women were not spread out equally. Five of them have congregated around a single spot, with the others sitting seemingly randomly.

According to Markolab the reason for this is that while invitations are issued for everyone when a new prince is being inaugurated, attendance of the ceremony is not mandatory. Only when the princes in question are currently residing in hell, and if they aren’t on active missions is it considered part of common courtesy to show up.

He tried to get a better look at those whom he must call “peers” but not even the five who decided to group up could divert his attention away from the seven monsters who had their own seats far above theirs in seven alcoves carved into the structure. These were the ones the speaker called “masters”. They were The Yozi.
>>
>>6100840
I wonder if this dude is the forever herald stuck with this job. Imagine if hes been stuck here waiting for however long since Jet's exaltation now, a year or two? Just waiting in hell with the other Princes who just hang out in hell and the Yozi. I guess someones gotta do it, and the benefits probably aren't bad as long as you can just not piss anyone off who can kill you.

Also neat, some kind of Prince of Hell party of five. That must be nearly miraculous to make and maintain a party of people who need to routinely act like mustache twirling super villains.
>>
>>6100917
Yes he is.
He's a funny little goober. Formerly a peasant whose daughter got sent to Hell. He then went on an epic quest to rescue her. He got so close but shat himself after taking one look at Hell. He then bitched out because it was too scary.
The Yozi laughed their asses off at this and offered him an Exaltation as a joke and the madlad took it
>>
>>6101193
What a funny guy. His picture has some griffith energy. I wonder what happened with his daughter then after his exaltation.
>>
>>6101234
She escaped her captors.
He believes she's still alive and in hell somewhere and still tries to find her.
I think the Yozi make sure she can't escape and that they keep evading each
other by a hairs bredth because it's funny
Or she could be dead idk
>>
>>6101259
I wonder if she's just that good or they let her out. The Yozi make a game out of it for who can get them closest while still missing each other. Bonus points for leaving clues or witnesses to the others presence that spur them on. The daughter thinks it's some prince of hell after her so she hides even harder.
>>
>>6101311
It's impossible to tell, but one thing you should know is that the infinite cruelty, hate and power of the Yozi is only eclipsed by their capability for pettiness. Depending on which one you piss off the probability of you either ending up in a pain dimension getting infini-raped until eternity, or having a pebble in every shoe you wear ever could be decided by a coinflip.
So the chances of them releasing her on purpose just to fuck with both of them are very high
>>
>>6101379
The forever pebble sounds rough, but I guess we could just go barefoot. I'm surprised they can work with each other if they are that petty, maybe that's the key to success. Getting them to spend that pettiness on each other and whatever else is in view at the time.
>>
>>6101403
They work mostly through concessions.
"I'm willing to do X if you give me Y"
It's just about the only way they know how to cooperate, with how differing their views and ideologies are.
Minus Malfeas or the previous king simply beating all of them into submission.
Even among the Yozi, the stronger dog fucks
>>
He was a bit surprised to see them in the flesh. And that they were so… small. But appearances can be deceiving. Yozi are not so limited in their physicality as mortals. They could create as many bodies, called Jouten, for themselves as they wished. With the only limit being that they all must fit into their themes. So while he was within Malfeas, the Demon City, he was also in the presence of Malfeas, The Brass Dancer, sitting above him.

The first of the seven that caught his eyes bore the shape of a woman. Her body was water, her dress sea-foam, her hair tentacles and kelp and her seat was made of coral and fish-bones that moved unceasingly. She also had an ever rising cloud of what Jet thought was mist at first. He was wrong. She is Kimberry, The Sea That Marched Against The Flame. Her body and nature is caustic. The "mist" around her is her throne being dissolved, and its movements were it growing back so her throne would not disappear.

The second was not even a person, but a shape. A crystalline sphere orbited by a hundred smaller one, each of which is in turn orbited by a hundred more. Or would be, if three of them weren't conspicuously missing. At the center of each sphere was a burning pyre of flame, each flame whispering a name, her name. For it's She Who Lives In Her Name, The Principle of Hierarchy.

The third was the one that bothered Markolab the most, as he did not like talking about her, much less be in her presence. It was nothing more than a swirling, red ring. Unceasing in its movement and deceptively fast even as it stood still. That was Adorjan, The Silent Wind. A Yozi insane by even the standards of her own brethren. She's a butcher, a serial killer, a maniac feared even by her own kin. Not due to her murderous nature. But because she is the only one of them who actually enjoys her own imprisonment. She is the only Yozi where one must constantly strive to earn her hatred, for her love is worse.

Conversely the one that unnerved Jet was the most unassuming of the bunch. It had no real body to speak of, no substance, no weight. It was just... black. A hole, wound and stain on the world vaguely outlining the shape of a person of indeterminate gender, age and form. 'Tis The Ebon Dragon, The Shadow of All Things.

The last three however were the ones that commanded, nay, demanded the most attention by their sheer presence alone.

The first one was a creature wearing a long robe of polished mirrors, his features shifting constantly to reflect those of everyone in the room at the moment. Sometimes Jet saw himself in it, other times, everyone else. That was Szoreny, The Silver Forest. The one he's been emulating the most.
>>
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Next to him was a statue of a woman. It was composed of infinite grains of silver sand compressed into the shape of a person. Impossibly detailed, vast and still. But unquestionably alive. Even though she was completely motionless and gazed in front of herself at the empty space, he knew she was looking at him, as she was at everyone and everything else. She was everywhere at the same time, infinite, boundless. She was Cecelyne, The Endless Dessert. And just looking at her made his heart sink into a pit in his stomach. For some reason she was the most disturbing one to him.

And last but by no means least was the imposing, male figure with skin of the purest brass, wearing only a green loincloth. His head was adorned with horns curving into the shape of a crown, the tips of which were alight with the same green fire his eyes were. Even as he lounged in his throne he oozed with a sense of nobility, majesty and boundless fury all at the same time. He is the Brass Dancer, the humaniform Jouten of Malfeas. The King of the Yozi.

A few of these titans do seem to be focusing on Jet, but most just seem bored by the whole affair.

"Alright. I'm done."
The green-haired man steps away from the console and pats Jet on the shoulder.
"You can do whatever you want now, champ. Break a leg!"

Receiving a malicious grin from the man who started walking back to his own seat on the council Jet stepped towards the console so he may attempt to take control of it. Though it was of alien making, and its display was in a language he did not speak somehow he still knew which buttons he had to press even without Markolab’s aid. It simply felt familiar to him in a way he couldn't quite describe. After touching a few of the glyphs floating around him a seven faceted body of light appeared in the middle of the room, all seven sides of which displayed his face and projected his voice.

>He was as brash, arrogant and loud as possible
>He gave a humble and modest speech
>He simply introduced himself and stepped back
>Custom
>>
>>6101413
Mostly concessions huh, I guess that works for relative equals. Trading athletes for the big game. The Holographic Jet Prince of Hell Trading Card for a few thousand Forever Pebbles. I wonder if the other Princes are sitting below any of the Yozi Thrones in particular as a sign of affiliation?
>>
>>6101437
More like
>I, the embodiment of free will, self actualization, ego and "ROW ROW FIGHT THE POWER!", hereby agree to implement Destiny as a force and make everything preordained
>In exchange however I demand that living beings must perform THE SEGGS in order to propagate. And Free Will must still be a force that can at least temporarily fight against said predestination
>Agreed?

And yes, that is a thing that happened, and it happened like that
>>
>>6101429
>He gave an inspiring speech to rouse the blood of his fellow princes, if not the Yozi masters above them.
Something something war, victory, revenge, justice.
>>
>>6101473
+1
Something something betrayed by the traitorous gods, something something born to succeed but casted down upon birth, offered a second chance and with our body, heart and soul willing to spit against Heaven's face and leave no body to burn at the stakes of the being who crossed us, mostly for self-indulgence and happy that aligns with the Yozi
>>
>>6101453
I wonder how many Yozi at the time were giving Mister or Miss Free Will the Tartarus Stare for that one. Cue the tape of Jet and Ena's cute and awkward honeymoon bedroom to see how they feel about that deal now.

>>6101473
+1
"Like those of you here I too was betrayed by Heaven."

Yeah sure I'll support some kind of rousing speech to see if he can win over some of the Princes. Jet is a noble with leadership as his schtick, he wants to rule. The Yozi will like what they like and thats that I figure.

Markolab thinks the other princes will try to drag him down like crabs in a bucket, judging and measuring him to get his worth. Their reflection in Szoreny might be a good way to get a better look at each of the Princes without focusing on them overtly. Also Jet seems pretty handy with that weird ass projector, maybe he can just turn himself up if they get rowdy lol.

I do wonder what achievements or tidbits would actually impress them and not give away too much? Making fools of other exalted of his generation with the facade of a mortal. Beating a Nishkriya mask Fae solo and humiliating it, pacifying a Lunar. Also hes not a bad dancer given a good tune. The best contract he ever voided was one of the highest strength that would have killed a mortal twice over, it was flattering really.
>>
>>6101429
>He simply introduced himself and stepped back
>>6101453
kek
>>6101516
>Cue the tape of Jet and Ena's cute and awkward honeymoon bedroom to see how they feel about that deal now.
c'mon, it's not like ours was the worse one ever.
>>
>>6101429
I'm also going to +1 >>6101473 , because:

>Being arrogant will incite our fellow Princes to knock us down a peg
>Being humble will tell our fellow Princes that we're weak
>Leaving it off at an introduction will anger our fellow Princes, who have been waiting for some time now
>>
>>6101516
He's Isidoros. And only She Who Lives In Her Name gave him any shit for it because she hates free will. She also believes the betrayal of the gods proved her right.
Isidoros meanwhile, being Big Dick Energy embodied is the only one who doesn't resent the Exalted for it. In fact, he thinks they are fucking rad for having the balls to rry the impossible and having the power to pull it off.
He'd still like to be free but he's nowhere near as angry as the rest
>>
>>6101779
He sounds like a cool guy. Does he have some cool powers we could learn?
>>
>>6101781
Do you enjoy punching things with the infinite mass of a black hole, traveling long distances by going in a random direction and having a collage of whacky adventures along the way, or being able to comically evade any and all attacks but remaining oblivious to the fact you're being attacked as long as you're enjoying yourself while feasting, drinking or fucking?
>>
>>6101786
I would enjoy that but I don't think its for Jet. Really that sounds perfect for Kaya.
>>
>>6101429
>He simply introduced himself and stepped back
>>
>>6101473
>Support.

Bring our fellows into line without essence, How about it.
Worst thing we can do is fail.
>>
He considered for a moment giving a fake name for the devil-scum. But something told him it'd be a bad idea to do so. That something was Markolab. So he took a deep breath and spoke into the transmitter.

"My name is Mnemon Jet. But you may call me Master Saffron. My line goes back to Lady Mnemon, Head of the illustrious House Mnemon, and to Her Majesty, The Scarlet Empress herself. From the moment of my birth I was destined for greatness, and I strived endlessly to realize my potential. But as I've come to learn I was sabotaged every step of the way by Heaven itself. I guess some of those in attendance can relate. I now stand before you, stripped of my destiny, my mantle and my title. Though I am happy that this unfortunate series of events have lead to me being aligned with the Yozi. Thus I offer my flesh, mind and spirit to tear down those responsible for our fates and have them driven in the mud as they beg for mercy. And be it Fey, Exalt, Men or the Dead, none will be able to stand in the way of my vengeance and my justice. This I swear."

Jet then tried to survey the chamber for the reaction of the others. He did not want to make it look obvious he was scanning them, so he focused his attention on Szoreny, whose nature and being made it easy to observe everyone at the same time as he reflected all of them. The Yozi were impossible to read, their alien natures and expressions which did not follow human standards made them too strange. But the Princes, despite their visible mutations, still carried enough of their old humanity to make reading them trivial. Sadly their expressions did not fill Jet with much confidence.

Out of the ten about seven of them had the same, exact face. That of boredom. The remaining three were not much better, and all of those were in that group of five princes who were sitting close to one another. Jet shifted his attention to them in quite an obvious manner. They were quite a colorful bunch, to be sure. The two who were in the "not impressed" camp were a man wearing nothing but bandages from head to toe who also possessed a crab-claw for an arm, and the other looked like he was wearing a quite gaudy and extravagant naval uniform. The three who showed anything other than disinterest were equally varied.
>>
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The first was a woman, who was giving a reserved but enthusiastic clap to him. She wore what could be, very generously, described as the robes that might be worn by a typical priestess of a petty god, if one were to remove all semblance of sanctity, good taste and reservation from it and replaced it with bits that would be considered outrageous in the worst whorehouse.

The second woman wore a skin-tight suit, much like the corrupted priestess but this one did not look like it was meant to mock the garbs of priesthood, instead it was a stealth suit, similar to ones employed by the Realm's spies and assassins. Her face was also half-obscured above the lips by a cloth of purest black. But even though her face was covered, her still visible lips curled in what could be described as "mild amusement".

The final one was a man for a change, and a rather large one at that. He was wearing strange clothing made of rather basic and cheap fabrics. Instead of proper pants he wore what was without a doubt a skirt. This man was the text-book definition of a barbarian. Large, unwashed, unkempt and ugly. Even his clothes were exactly like how Realm satire depicts barbarians. He was not at all pleased by his speech. In fact, he was practically fuming.

"That's it?"
He grumbled loudly.
"This is why they made us sit on our asses for hours?! This is the big, important 49?! Some Realm boyslave who thinks he's hot shit?!"

"Come now Cearr. He wasn't that bad. I think he did fine, considering."
The woman wearing a caul tried to calm him down, or at least it looked like that for the uninitiated. But to Jet it was obvious she was egging him on.

"Of course YOU'd say that Cyan!"
Jet narrowed his focus on the woman once Cearr said that. Lillun mentioned that name before.

Jet sighed and with the press of a few buttons he changed the command on the console, so the loud-mouthed barbarians voice is also amplified and so his face shows up on the displays.
"If you have something to say, I'd like to hear it. As I'm sure many of us are."

"Damn right I do!"
The braggart uncrossed his legs and stood up to speak, and in that moment it became obvious how tall and robust he was.
"Every single time one of you Fiends come around all you do is talk. Even the constant preaching of the Malefactors is less unbearable than you lot! So I ask, what can you do? Why should we give a damn?"

Someone from the circle then spoke up, shining a light on the crux of the issue if it wasn't obvious enough.
"Come on! Fight already!"

"Really? What is this? Hazing? Entertainment? I expected a bit more refinement from the so called "Chosen of Hell" if I'm being honest."
>>
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"You don't get it Realm boy!"
Cearr replied with a wicked grin.
"Nobody cares about your pedigré, your accolades or whatever else you're dangling in front of our eyes! We are champions! Warriors! We are to be leading the charge in the war to end all wars! The only thing that truly matters is how well you can fight! So come on! Show us what you really got!"

Jet had half a mind about telling the blowhard off and turning his back to him. Unfortunately his Coadjutor informed him that this isn't exactly a situation where opting out is beneficial. This is simply a matter of face. No matter how he might spin it, how cleverly he could word his argument, the end result would be that he backed out of a challenge and would lose standing. Not to mention, judging by their expression, the Yozi are also quite keen on seeing what their newest acquisition can really do. So without any options left he hopped over the console, into the large, circular arena beneath their seats.

Upon landing he found that the floor was not solid like he expected. Instead it too was finely compacted silver sand that still moved around at his touch, despite how densely it was packed. Once he processed all that he looked up at his soon-to-be opponent who jumped into the ring as well. He seemed quite excited about the prospect of fighting as he was cracking his neck with one hand while rotating his other arm around to break it in.

"Jet. Be careful with this one."

"Thanks for the advice but I think I can handle a single brute."

"Yeah but this is not just any brute. He's Cearr, a member of the First. One of the five Green Sun Princes who've been chosen first by the Yozi. And they are pretty much the only group who formed a semi-permanent coven."

"Coven?"

"Think of it like the Sworn-Brotherhoods of your dynasty. Except these are usually temporary alliances, due to the limited number of princes, and last until an assigned mission is completed. But these ones are working together more-often than not."

"Good."

"Good?"

"I'm only fighting one of them. Meaning he'll have plenty of gaps the others usually cover for him."

"Yeah. About that-"
Cearr opened his left arm and from a flash of viridian fire a massive axe of tainted orichalcum appeared in his hand. Then the Slayer grinned and erupted with a glowing pillar of green essence that put to shame everything Jet had ever produced until now.
"His specialty is combat. Good luck."

"Shit..."

>Face him head on and try to match him in aggression
>Keep away and try to form a strategy to beat him
>Fight as dirty as possible to even the playing field
>Custom?
>>
>>6102657
>Fight as dirty as possible to even the playing field
Right. Dexterity is our physical strongsuit with four dots. Two dots in dodge, total of six for dodging his ass if we get down to it. Or three in martial arts if we want to outskill him - disarming him would be a pretty smart choice ASSUMING he doesn't have a way to render that impossible or futile.
Reflection Upon Insight might be able to grant us momentary insights into his battle tactics. It's not the usual use of it, but the description seems like it MIGHT work?
Branch-And-Root Protrusion is a necessity here. Going to want to abuse it for both offense and defense. We're also going to want to abuse the Firewand a lot, since he seems melee-focused. Keeping some distance is probably going to be wise here.
I guess my general thoughts are to keep distance when possible, and intentionally poison him with mercury whenever he gets too close for comfort. Something tells me disarming isn't going to work here.
>>
>>6102657
>Fight as dirty as possible to even the playing field

>>6102699
Support. Give it a shot to see if it works.

>Custom?
Actually hurting him might be rough, perhaps victory by mercury poisoning? Shove a few arms worth of mercury into his barbarian screaming mouth if we can just grow more. Heal our wounds and turn it into an endurance match of us healing and him getting poisoned. We can drug ourselves up to stop our fatigue and hopefully he cant.

If we can use some of our powder and the sand into a dust cloud to block vision. His anima banner is very apparent right now. We might be able to scoot around like Doc Oc using our limbs and attack him while he tries to find us.

Maybe spray some mercury into his eyes, then liquify our joints so we could slither into the silver sand like a snake, the limbs also spread out in four or five different directions to attack from while we let the sand protect us. Or pull him down into it then go to town until he can bust out.

Whatever it takes to win.
>>
>>6102723
>>6102699
>>6102657
>what these anons said. Kick him in the balls. Bite our tongue of and spit mercury in his eyes. Le pocket sand. Set him up to hit some other prince. Watch them jump in and fuck him up. Whatever it takes the true yozi wae.
>>
>>6102657
>Fight as dirty as possible to even the playing field
>>
>>6102699
>Support this guy, he knows something about all of this.

DIRTY FIGHT, DIRTY FIGHT.
>>
It seems you have your minds made up.
Very well, in recognition of the write-in and the smart choice I will give you a +1 as a stunt bonus, even though you forgot that you, as of yet, still have an empty gun

Please roll 1d20
First 4 rolls are accepted
DC 14, Crit 18
>>
Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>6103227
HERE IT COMES, A SUCCESS CRIT
>>
Rolled 17 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>>6103227
>>
Rolled 8 + 1 (1d20 + 1)

>>6103227
yeet
>>
>>6103239
Oh yeah, thats the stuff
>>
Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>6103227
Do I roll again or just leave it like that? I'm >>6103236 but I'm phoneposting
>>
>>6103275
why would you roll again ?
>>
>>6103348
some time passed and we only had 1 roll left
>>
Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>6103227
Possibility 1, this roll doesn't count because >>6103236 got two in. Even if so, >>6103239 saved us. Possibility 2, this roll does count. If so, I hope it helps.
>>
>>6103516
Well damn
>>
>>6103361
>>6103516
man, I didn't read it was 4 this time
>>
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>>
“Well if I can’t beat him in fair combat. Then I’ll just have to lean on my speciality.”

“Which is?”

“Not fighting fair.”
Jet drew his fire-wand and aimed it at Cearr. With a grin he pulled the trigger but only the disappointing click of the flint striking metal could be heard.
“Ah. Of course. In that case-”

He took a deep breath and began shouting. The burning essence coursing through his vein was roused awake and soon his body burned like a bonfire with the green flames of hell. His anima display was quite pitiful in comparison to Cearr’s, which was about twice as big as his own. The arrogant Slayer was about to gloat at Jet’s pathetic display until he saw the Fiends robe bulge outward.

With pained grunts and yet more screaming four silvery limbs sprouted from Jet’s back, all crooked and twisted like plant roots and branches. Cearr was disconcerted and the other Princes were all intrigued. Even the Yozi who remained still and stoic like the most beautiful yet terrifying statues leaned forward to look at the 49th Prince and his ability. Especially Szoreny whose features ceased mirroring those of others and displayed his own excitement for the first time during the meeting.

“Hah! Nice trick! But don’t think a few more arms will help you!”
Cearr taunted Jet with his usual cockiness. Yet as he raised his golden axe high and charged he bore witness to the Fiends devilish trickery first-hand. At that moment he realized he wasn’t going to have any fun with this fight.

Jet kicked the sand beneath his feet into the air, aided by the roots protruding from it. Vast quantities of silver sand clouded the area in front of him just as the Slayer delivered his slash. Cearr’s slash split the column of dirt in front of him vertically, yet as his field of view cleared Jet was nowhere to be seen. Using his unnaturally agile limbs Jet leaned forward until he was almost on all fours and ran under the horizontal slash. He dashed to Cearr’s side where he delivered a pair of strikes with the two extra limbs on his left side. He rolled under the retaliating slash of the Slayer and slid between the large man's legs, popping up behind him and kicking him in the other side.

“Yeah. You’re right. They aren’t much help. I don’t even need them to wipe the floor with you. But as a professional courtesy between colleagues I’ll refrain from humiliating you too much.”
“FUCK! YOU!”

This time the axe came down vertically, right on top of Jet’s head. But rather than dodging like before the four arms on his back clapped together in a prayer motion, stopping the falling blade before it could touch him. Then dashing forward Jet punched with his actual right fist and struck the Slayer in the groin.
>>
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Jet let out a satisfied smirk as he pulled back his boot from the man’s groin. He looked up to marvel at his pathetic expressions but all he saw was Cearr staring at him with an almost pitying look without flinching.
“That’s it?”

He just managed to dodge the descending axe blade by rolling to the side and he saw it split the ground down the middle, with green hellfire erupting from the resulting gash in the world. Jet got up from the ground and disappeared with as fast of a movement as he could manage, kicking Cearr in the neck. The only reaction he got was green sparks flying off of his sturdy body. Hitting the man felt like hammering a slab of solid steel.

“Why won’t he die?!”

“He’s emulating the King. This is bad.”
Markolab responded as Jet tried running away from the hulking monster instead.

“What does that mean?!”

“It means he’s not going to go down. He’s not feeling any of this. You’re wounding him, he just doesn’t give a shit. Nothing short of lethal wounds that’d kill a man will even slow him down.”

“So I have to keep punching him without letting him touch me? Fine… I can do that.”

“Except you saw how he has much more essence to spend than you. He’ll still be going strong when you’ve shat out your lungs. Unfortunate problem is that he’s simply more experienced and powerful than you. FORTUNATELY, you have something he doesn’t.”

“And what’s that?”

“You saw how you could sneak around and hit him in the back? His coadjutor is not helping him, or it’s defective. He doesn’t have omnidirectional awareness like you. Focus on attacking and leave defense to me!”

“Fine… I’m trusting you with this. Don’t make me regret this, Markolab!”

“ROGER!”

Jet’s dark eyes started glowing with green power as he started moving like a possessed man. His attacks became much more vicious, as he solely focused on tearing Cearr’s throat out with his silver limbs. And yet his defense was not the slightest bit compromised. It was as if he was perfectly aware of his opponents movements at all times. His movements were like a silver river flowing around the Slayer and his attacks, deftly evading him while assaulting him with a series of never ending blows, scratches and kicks. Still it was not enough and the Slayer laughed as he swung his axe in an arc around him, sending forth a wave that swept Jet off his feet and sent him away.

Though scratched, battered and bruised Cearr did not seem the slightest bit affected by the not-so-gentle ministration of the Fiend. He cracked his neck twice as he let out a grin.
“Hey… not bad your majesty. Who knew a little shit born with a silver spoon in his mouth could fight like that! Unfortunately you will never, ever beat me like that.”

“What?”

“Let me show you…”
>>
>>6104680
These Malfeas powers must be pretty nice. I wonder if Jet's personality would fit tho
>>
Cearr gripped his ax tight and let out a demonic growl. His body began swelling and bulging with horns and bones sprouting from his flesh. Green flame spewed from his eyes, mouth and nose as he grew to monstrous proportions. The hulking behemoth raised his massive ax, which seemingly grew with him and he brought it down, whipping up a storm of silvery dust and emerald flames that exuded a heat so fierce it turned the nearby dunes into glass. With tusks and fire coming from his mouth Cearr spoke in slurred words.
"This is why you're weak! You are still human! Like those motherfucking dragons sitting on the Blessed Isle! I am beyond human! I am a Green Sun Prince! And this is what that means!"
He threw an attack with his axe, which shot out a green blade of essence that just narrowly missed the Fiends head but scratched his cheek.

Jet, staring at this beast of apocalyptic destruction, couldn't help but laugh.
"You think you're better than me?"
His laughter got louder and more maniacal to the point that Cearr found himself off-put by the lack of care on Jet's part. His heart and soul turned into a mirror which began reflecting the inhuman monster that Cearr had become. And he integrated it within himself. The blood rolling down his cheek that had been only laced with silvery particles until now had turned completely into mercury. The wound then closed and Jet felt his heartbeat increasing rapidly until it beat with the same speed as a hummingbird's wings. His veins bulged out and turned a silvery color, with his eyes becoming red like cinnabar.
"YOU AREN'T BETTER THAN ME YOU TWO-BIT SWINE-HERDING NOBODY!"

He drew his fire-wand and aimed it at Cearr who lost all fear towards him.
"This again? You really lost your marbles, didn't you?"

Jet did not pay attention to his opponent. The only thing on his mind was putting this peasant that dares to look down at him back in his place. Nobody and nothing else mattered. Not even the fact that his gun was empty. From his wrist veins of pure silver burst forth like worms burrowing under the skin. Two of them rushed towards the fire-wand and began ripping off the hammer on it, as well as the metal bits that would normally guide the sparks towards the ammunition. The veins entered through the holes left and began pulsating. Within his body strange new chambers and capillaries opened in his circulatory system. Flushed with vitriol drawn from his system they began boiling and bubbling as they refined it with greater efficacy than the best alembics in Creation ever could. They created a vitriol residue called Algarel. This dust was pumped into the barrel of the gun through his veins and a single drop of vitriol was added to it, which acted as a catalyst, igniting the mixture instantly. Jet pulled the trigger, not that he needed to, and a green gout of flame washed over Cearr, who actually screamed like a pig at the slaughter.
>>
The brute may have been tough. But not tough enough to withstand the hellfire of another prince. Realizing that Jet could meaningfully hurt him now he began swinging his ax wildly, cleaving the series of fireballs Jet fired afterwards one after another at great speed. Cearr was sweating as he tried to swat each of the blasts away. But as he focused on dealing with the fire he failed to notice Jet, who stopped firing moments ago and had dashed up to him so fast he outran four of the flame projectiles. Three arms, two mercury and one flesh, reached up to one of the Slayers arms and lifted it up, while the other three started hammering his side with speed that the human eye could not keep up with. Before Cearr could react and before the next shot could arrive Jet dashed away and he washed as the four fireballs hit Cearr directly.

He did not allow the smoke to clear and he dove back in.
"BEHIND YOU!"

Making his way behind Cearr in a blink he delivered a kick to the back of his knee and as the Slayer collapsed his branches wrapped around him to claw out his eyes, poke out his ears and to grab hold of him through his nostrils and mouth. Pulling the hulking man up and slamming him down Jet did a frontal flip, with a quicksilver spike sprouting from his heel to stab Cearr in the testicles with. Now normally, such damage would be trivial to block for the warrior. However with each touch, each blow, each scratch he was injected with the manifested envy of Szoreny, quicksilver of the purest, most toxic variety. Cearr's mind was addled, his limbs numb and weak. His body slowly but surely started to deflate as he could do nothing but stare at the Fiend in his paralyzed state.

Jet grinned from ear to ear.
"See? Isn't that so much better? So much more natural? You're finally where you belong. BENEATH ME!"

He raised his leg high to deliver an axe-kick right at Cearr's neck and end this but he found the sands around him rising from the ground to stop him. The arena then rang with voices of irresistible magnitude.
"Enough!"
The Yozi spoke.
"The 49th Is Victorious. All Hail The Prince!"
>>
The other Green Sun Princes stood up and gave Jet a bow. Then one of Cearr's teammates, the man with the crab claw for an arm stretched out his disfigured limb at the Yozi's command. Suddenly Cearr's body was surrounded by a vibrating, transparent force that lifted his limp body out of the arena and carried him back to his seat. Now Jet was alone in the arena, surrounded by once more quiescent sand and the eyes of the Yozi squarely on him.

The sand vibrated as it spoke.
"Now. Who Shall Claim Him?"

"Isn't It Obvious? He's A Fiend! He's Mine By Right!"
The Ebon Dragon spoke.

"Nonsense! He Favors Me. Thus I Am His Patron."
So did Szoreny.

"He Bears My Urge. As Per Our Pact He's Mine. And I Knew His Value Before All Of You."
Cecelyne also threw her name into the lot.

"OOOOH! FUN! Everyone Wants Him?! Then I Do Too!"
Kimberry nominated herself once the others were involved.

"Do As You Wish."
Adorjan was not interested and her jouten promptly disappeared from the spectator seats. She Who Lives In Her Name spoke not and followed suit.

"ENOUGH!"
Finally it was the turn of Malfeas.
"This One Is Special. Thus It's Only Fitting He Belongs To The King And None Else!"

>Pick one of the five
>"I don't really care. Decide among yourselves. I'm gonna lie down."
>"Let's make something clear. I don't belong to any of you!"
>"You're right. I am special! So I need a special title, don't I?"
>Custom
>>
>>6105303
>"You're right. I am special! So I need a special title, don't I?"
Whew. Beat up pur senior and mutilated him! Can't wait for that guy to show up with new hellforged eyes.

I don't know what it means to belong to a Yozi, but it seems unwise somehow. Maybe we can pull off a "chaos undivided" here and get all of their blessings.
>>
>>6105303
>It'd obvipus I am special, Thus don't I deserve a special title.

The important part is that Nobody can lay singular claim to us. Claims are restriction.
>>
>>6105303
Tempting. Pushing for special privilege after a really sweet hard fought victory and the titan king calls you special sound about right for Jet in his state of mind and his attitude.

Picking one when you have five Yozi eager to have him would seem like a waste. Leaving it to them could be the 'let them cook' option unless Malfeas just exerts his Kinglyness to beat everyone else into submission.

If push came to shove at that point, would the others and then all agree to share because they think they can eventually color him in their way over time because they are the best, and its better then letting one of the other yozi have the Special Prince all to themselves. Something like that? Might think on it.

Could get wacky.
>>
>>6105303
>"You're right. I am special! So I need a special title, don't I?"

>write in: so guys I think we should play them off each other. So here's my idea.

>" I would prefer to join those who wish to destroy blessed isle (ya? I'm not 100% on all the lore) the most. And where my talents will be used to their full extent to inflict a mortal wound onto our eternal enemy. Those who would wish to be my patron must be willing to invest... dearly for our mighty conquest over those *insert slur for enemies* so they will sing of our glory."

Idk something like that. I wany a bidding war to low key start or at least push these cunts to get ready for the war.
>>
>>6105303
>"You're right. I am special! So I need a special title, don't I?"
This is arrogant foolishness of the highest degree, which is precisely why Mnemon Jet would attempt to act on it.
>>
>>6105382
My IP changes too much. The last post I made was >>6098235, samefagging is beneath contempt.
>>
>>6105382
Worst part I'd that we keep getting away with it.
>>
>>6105303
>Szoreny
>>
>>6105338
“Yu-Shan might despise you. But the Yozi, oh the Yozi love you Jet. They’ve been watching you since the day you were born. How Heaven strangled you with the strings of your own fate. Now they wish to help you. You got your answers from Banatos. Now the princes of Hell offer you a solution.”
The figure now steps through the curtains and it slowly fades into view out of nothing. It looked like a rhinoceros beetle the size of a man, and walking upright. But its shell appeared more like a suit of armor. Its eyes glowed with a menacing green light.

“Heaven made you fail, but Hell wants you to win. So the Yozi sent me to deliver a gift to you. A gift of power and a show of goodwill. If Yu-Shan would reject you then we will shower you with our blessings. And since it’s a gift it comes with no strings attached. We merely ask that you use it to your heart’s content. So I prostrate myself before you Mnemon Jet and ask you…Will you be our champion? Will you be our Exalted?”

“No, if you were actually watching me all this time then you'd know I’m not the kind of person that would take such a vague deal. One with a literal beetle no less! ”
Jet snapped at the demon, which laughed at him.

“Kehehe. As I said before Jet, there is no deal. Merely a gift. Which you may reject or accept. Afterwards you may do as you please. In fact, should you accept, the Yozi want nothing less for you. They know that you are smart, smarter than most of your kind. And you will learn on your own the depths of Heaven’s depravity. After which you’ll join us willingly, and we’ll welcome you as our brother. Nay, our prince!”

just posting this from the first thread for consideration, as he did say no strings attached, but it also came with him as out headmate so who knows how truthful it is. Does this mean we could go without an official Patron? Would that be wise? Would we technically have 5 Patrons if we are shared, or would the title keep us free of one Patron abusing the relationship in fear of driving us into the arms of another Yozi.
>>
The pdf document won't load for me
>>6105303
>"You're right. I am special! So I need a special title, don't I?"
>>
>>6105303
>"You're right. I am special! So I need a special title, don't I?"
We're going to ride this train until it gets us absolutely owned. I won't be surprised if this quest ends with Ketchup Carjack himself kicking us right in the face.
>>
>>6105567
what pdf ?
>>
>>6105778
>what pdf ?
This one, anon >>6065703
>>
>>6105303
>Custom
What are some good names to work with? King, but that's very Malfeas. Regent, as the Yozi cannot take their rightful Thrones in Creation yet. Steward (of Gondor). Vizier is inherently evil. Arch Prince, Arch Duke, Viceroy. Overlord. Include Builder that the fae referenced maybe. Herald. Forerunner. Master. Name it after a weapon or a piece of regalia like a crown or scepter.
>>
>>6105869
Heir of Malfeas?
>>
>>6105878
I do like the sound of that. I wonder if Jet will just get smacked down or told hes being smug then figure it out themselves.

Maybe ask what their plans for Creation are since its a good opportunity with so many of them here and interested. Then we would have a real way to reference between their madness and Liluns so we can consider her offer properly as well. We go rest and think on it, get our rightful inheritance? Estate and gear? Maybe skedaddle before we get roped into anything immediately or decide on a Yozi that wont get in the way of Jet's goals.
>>
>>6106416
I came up with the title by thinking about what would be above a Prince but below a King.
The heir prince. That's about right, I think.
The one set to inherit things after the current King. Usually given additional training and special attention.
>>
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"Don't I have a say in this?"
Suddenly the gaze of the present Yozi fell upon Jet and he felt the true gravity of their attention. He tried to swallow the knot forming in his throat and continued.
"I was under the assumption that we are here for a purpose. Working towards a common goal. No? It seems quite reductive to limit me to the service of one, since I'm so "special". It'd be more prudent to dedicate me to the goal, above all else. That way I can benefit all without hampering the others. Well? How about that?"

There was a solid two minutes of silence, with the Titans simply glaring at him. Jet practically felt their attention flaying his soul, but he bit his tongue and clenched his fists to bear it. Finally the creatures looked at each other as Malfeas spoke.
"Is This Satisfactory?"

"No."
They answered in unison.

"Are We Happy With This?"

"No."

The Yozi continued to argue among each other, each one giving long-winded speeches about the strange and esoteric reasons why they should be the ones to claim the 49th Prince. Jet was about to raise his voice to demand them not to ignore him but as he's about to speak he starts uncontrollably coughing. The fit gets worse and worse until he falls to his knees. The hand he held to his mouth was drenched in mercury, since his body no longer had a drop of blood in it. His elevated heart-rate resulted in the concoction of stimulants and anesthetics flushing from his system, and as his heart slowed down to more natural levels he realized just how far he pushed himself. He barely had a mote of essence left in his body. If things were dragged out much longer he would've crumbled from the strain. His vision was blurring and his breathing was heavy. He was about to lose consciousness as the Yozi around him kept arguing.

Then they fell silent.

An explosion went off in the middle of the arena and a powerful gust of wind washed over all present. All eyes were drawn away from the titans and to the epicenter of the burst, where a glowing pyre of green light was slowly overtaken by golden sunlight with a giant snapping turtle rising from within. Standing in the middle of it was Jet. Or rather, someone wearing his skin. The look in his eyes was different. He stood tall and proud, with a colde certainty to his gaze that did not waver even as he looked directly at the dread demon princes. His eyes darted from one to another until he scoured all of the titans.

"Where am I?"
He looked at the bronze skinned king.
"Malfeas... you cur. You dare drag your betters into your stinking hole? You'll pay for this insolence-"
>>
>>6106887
>Jet's Solar Past Life is taking over
WE MADE OUR BED AND NOW WE DIE IN IT
>>
>>6107060
Hmmm I guess taking our nap or picking a patron then taking a nap might have been the smart move, but atleast now we get to see some more of Jet's past life as a Stone Cold Solar. Whats up with the giant snapping turtle anima banner though
>>
The Brass Dancer leaped from his balcony in a fit of ungodly rage as someone dared to adress him in such a manner. He threw a punch with as much grace as rage. But the man caught it all the same and wrapped his fingers around the closed fist of the kind. This shocked the King, but not as much when the other hand of the man struck him in the jaw and sent him into the air. The man meanwhile looked at his hand that was disfigured by the impact. All bones in his arm broke, and many pierced his skin from the inside. But he was more befuddled by this than hurt. With his free hand he popped things back into place and the broken hand appeared good as new afterwards. The weakness of his flesh was concerning, but not the end of the world. It just meant he needed to compensate for it with more essence. He clenched his fist and his anima intensified, blowing off the hood of his robe and revealing his black hair which was steadily turning gold as the fierce, golden aura was imbuing and reinforcing his body, with the image of the snapping turtle roaring behind him.

"Get Him!"
The King ordered his princes as he saw the Resplendent Battle Visage of the solar manifesting.

All of the Infernals jumped into the arena to fulfill the command of their liege but "Jet" simply took one look at his ten attackers and moved fifty yards forward in a flash and swung his fist. As if struck by nothing, all of the Green Sun Princes felt a massive impact knocking them back and into the nigh-impregnable walls of the spire, which they blew through.

“Let’s get this over with Malfeas. Calibration starts tomorrow and I can’t afford to miss the banquet. So I’ll just beat my way out of you.”

The two engaged in fierce combat, faster than any eye could see. The brass tower blew open, exposing everyone in it to the outside as thunderous explosions kept going off overhead. The Solar was pushing the King back. Unsurprising, given the millennia of training he undertook to fight the totality of a Yozi, demons and all. A single Jouten was nothing for him.

But he was shocked when a pillar of basalt rose under the brass titans feet and it stood before him, smiling.
“Such Disappointment. I Hoped I Could Grind One Of You To Dust. But There Isn’t Enough Of Your Glory Left To Warrant It. Instead I’ll Remind You Of Your Place. Below Me. On Your Knees!”
Malfeas put two of his hands together and made the mudra of destruction as the green flames on his crown flared up.
“Shintai!”

His brass skin cracked and exploded off of him, opening up the bottomless ocean of fiery rage to reality. From it horrors beyond words burst forth, each one a manifestation of the kings hatred, his desire to violate and destroy all to quench his fury. The majestic, brass dancer was no more. It was replaced by a mass of twisted muscle, bone, sinew, metal and basalt configured into four arms, wings, a spear-tipped tail and random bits of flesh in a grotesque amalgam of pure, destructive fury.
>>
>>6107576
This nigga's balls are so big that it's a wonder how his exaltation managed to fit inside of Jet.
>>
It roared like the mindless beast it was and lunged at the solar. He threw a punch with the titanic body solely made to throw that one punch. The Prince of the Earth, the wall of the Conventicle Malfeasant and the untold millions of demons beyond it on this layer of Malfeas were all blown away. The only difference is, that the quasi infinite plane of hell was nowhere near as durable as a solar. Laying in a crater, surrounded by nothing but dust he could barely keep his eyes open as he stared at Malfeas in his new form. Battered and bruised, he wondered how it was possible that he became so weak in just one night. But as he lamented his own weakness he started remembering that night. The night he died. The night his shortcomings were laid bare before him. The last things he could do before falling unconscious were shedding a single tear, mourning his own death and listening to the final words of the Demon King.

“Haaah. So. Who Wants Him Now?”

“Not It.”
The other Yozi spoke in unison.

“Then, As The King. I Declare The 49th Green Sun Prince, Mnemon Jet, Malebranche Of The Yozi. He Belongs To None. He Serves All. That Is Our Decision.”

“And Should Leviathan Return My Liege?”

“Restrain Him. His Four Thousand Years Of Knowledge Are Too Valuable To Toss Aside. That Is Final. Dismissed.”
>>
And I believe that is the final update for the thread before it falls off the catalogue
>>
>>6107888
Damn, Super Saiyan Jet rocked and was rocked in turn. So no Patron was willing to take claim him. Also, Malebranch?

Did things turn out how you expected Loom or did anything surprise you through the writeins like the tactics or calling the Lunar chick an escaped slave and so on? Or more or less how you expected it?
>>
>>6107887
Belonging to none, serving all. Well, that's what we wanted...right?
I just hope it doesn't end up biting us in the ass.
See you next thread, Loom!



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