Private - Exercising Demons | Page 3

Iván was caught surprised when @Manya Boole came rushing to hug him. Was it the first time someone else hugged him that tight, concerned about his well-being, glad to see him still alive? Well, no, but it has been a long time since someone hugged him that tight, showed that much concern and delight at the prospect of him still in one piece. It was, however, his first hug from a Faerin. He narrowed his eyes at the demon on the floor, though his mind was on the Faerin who was holding him like a Caenis would her first bone. Gross.

Thankfully, Manya punched him to make things better, more normal, less Faerin. Iván wasn't well-acquainted with that many Faerin, at least not in such a way that could be construed as intimate. Gross. But it didn't really matter if Manya was Faerin or not. When it came down to it, Iván wasn't that great with expressing intimacy with new friends, people, associates. He's only been intimate with one other Player in this world ever and she, too, liked to punch him. A lot. Compared to that woman's punch, Manya's wasn't that bad. It wasn't as painful. Maybe because he had tiny Faerin fists.

Interesting... Despite his current condition, Iván was still able to focus, concentrate, on the fallen demon with them. He eyed it with great interest, as if his eyes were a surgeon's scalpel, dissecting the strange creature with observations, mental notes, and everything else that he has come to know regarding demons, which, truth be told, wasn't that much.

Half-automaton? Now that part, Iván knew more of. As a tinkerer who spent some time with other tinkerers, mostly with that loose company that was more or less a loose workshop of like-minded tinkerers, Iván has seen his fair share of automatons, whether actually functioning or works in progress. He scurried over to the creature while Manya continued reorienting him with everything that had happened while he was unconscious. Under the spell, a trance really, of his own curiosity, Iván could not indulge Manya regarding his own health, waving him off when he suggested for Iván to take more time to recuperate. "I'm good, I'm good... Let me just give this weird creature a quick look and maybe I can come up with a plan or two..."

The fact that the demonic creature didn't just rip Manya in half was strange. Wasn't it like the other demons out there, having been hungry for freedom so long that they became consumed with consuming their own master? Iván didn't really understand the relationship between a necromancer and her creatures. He took to it like it was some form of slavery, the selfish necromancer taking a hapless creature from their plane of existence to turn them into her own personal bodysnatcher. That was perhaps one of the reasons why Iván didn't care much for people like Black Thalia, even felt disgusted by them to some extent.

But now wasn't the time to mull over his personal feelings. It was the time to consider their options. As of this time, they had none. At least they seemed to have none. Maybe the half-automaton creature could provide them with at least one new option. Iván thought about the necrowalker Black Thalia had conjured up earlier to help Manya get up to speed. Literally. Perhaps she was truly half-tinkerer, or at least someone who dabbled in science and technology whenever magic bored her. Whatever this creature was, it seemed to be different from the rest of its horde, not just in terms of physicality, it being half-automaton and all that jazz, but also in terms of how it was taking to Black Thalia. Unlike the other demons who'd quickly kill them to get to its unconscious master, this Frankenstein's monster of sorts actually showed some semblance of concern towards Thalia. Speaking of Thalia...

"Take off whose clothes now?" Iván turned to Manya and saw him blushing. He instinctively turned to where Black Thalia was and realized what had happened because of his persistent shaking of her. If Iván wasn't Iván, if Iván was Manya, then perhaps he'd have blushed, too, share the same feeling of shame and guilt that more or less flooded the tiny Faerin's entire being, but Iván was Iván and he really did not care about that sort of thing. "Oh, yeah, that probably happened while I was shaking her, you know, trying to wake her up. She really needs to get herself better clothes."

Without concerning himself too much about Black Thalia's current state, or really just not concerning himself with her at all, Iván began studying the demon automaton's, well, more machine-like parts, trying to figure out if he could somehow help the dang creature speak. At the very least, he could probably fix its neck machinery, which would probably earn its trust and gratitude. Probably.

 

Manya was tomato-red as he looked at Ivan being all nonchalant. He considered throwing his grimoire at the insensitive man's head but then decided against it. Still, leaving Thalia lying there with her vast tracts of land spilled about felt a little bit...creepy. Manya had already decided that once she wakes up and starts asking, Ivan will be placed right in front of her to get whatever she's flinging. His bet was that it'd be five-fingered.

So what he did was look away as he wandered over, trying to hitch her clothing up so that she could...you know, save a bit of dignity and modesty. Not that she had much, to begin with, but everyone was entitled to it, after all!

...of course, he couldn't help but sneak a peek. But more so than anything lewd, Manya blinked, seeing a symbol inscribed upon Thalia's left breast. Now, Manya didn't believe in tattoos, or rather he didn't believe in using a heated needle to poke colors into your skin for nearly forever, but this tattoo caught his attention by the fact that it wasn't a tattoo. Nor was it an ordinary decoration.

It was a Black Magic symbol, a kind of anchor or doorway for the vital energy, the life force within someone to pass through or leave. And it was not something you willingly marked into your flesh - it was more like something you'd place on an enemy, so you could drain out their life and feed it to the dogs or something.

Manya didn't even consider meddling with it - he had Black Magic, White Magic, and even Spellbane, but this was magic of empyrean levels. Him trying to undo it without following the proper pathways would be like trying to break a boulder with a hairpin.

However, Manya was unsettled now, his bashfulness gone and replaced with serious worry. Thalia won't come to, not while the Demon Mark - for that was what it was often referred to as - was on her, draining her energy. And she has had it for a while now, from him vaguely noticing it the last time. Either she was trying to kill herself in a very convoluted way...or someone's been manipulating her.

Manya silently hitched her outfit up, tying/clasping/sticking together the broken links before straightening up from the unconscious figure, solemn and contemplative. He walked back over to the wall and slumped down, half-meditative and half-dead-tired. He needed to recover his energy. The ordeals that might face them soon would be no laughing matter.

The automaton demon watching Ivan, even as he was studied and examined. When he came close, the automaton didn't make to move (not that it could) nor did it panic. Black Magic was holding it in place from within, but the machinery still ran, elaborate if neglected clockwork whirring along.

His neck wasn't broken so much as it was damaged from bad maintenance - a lot of the finer gears and couplings were knocked out of alignment, and rust had coated other parts, all coming together to jam the delicate system beyond functionality.

But then they had other problems. Unknown to them, the demons had split up and started searching the basement. And they weren't the disconnected, vague horde from before - now, they were working with more union and cohesion. Something had changed, and it did wonders to the lethality of the horde now. They were still far from finding the trio, but they would eventually show up.

 

From the corner of his eye, as he continued studying the automaton aspect of the technically captured demon they had with them, Iván saw @Manya Boole touching the unconscious necromancer’s jiggly body with his tiny Faerin fingers. If he had the time, the illusionomancer would have lectured the White Mage about respecting women and not letting your most primitive urges dominate your sense of reason and logic. Alas, Iván did not have the time, the luxury of having any time outside of his current task, and could only scoff at the perverted midget.

“Ah, looks like I’ve finally found out what’s wrong with this one…” Iván took something, a tool, from within his coat and in a matter of minutes, seconds even began working on the creature’s neck. “Shush, shush, shush… Everything’s going to be all right. No need to be afraid, my friend. We’re friends with your master over there.” The tinkerer gestured, with his head, towards Black Thalia’s unconscious body, which was being defiled by Manya at the moment.

The creature followed suit with its eyes, which Iván effortlessly noticed. It seemed more concerned than hateful. Whatever it was, whatever the case was, the creature with them seemed to be loyal to its master. “You’re not going to hurt us, are you?” Iván flashed it a smile as its eyes switched focus to him. “We’re not going to hurt you, too. We just want a way out of this place, so we can keep your other friends from hurting your master.” The creature let out a small, meek noise, as if it was trying to talk to them.

Unfortunately, neither Iván nor Manya were well-versed in demon speak. They weren’t even necromancers to begin with, so no dice there. As someone who kept the company of monsters, though, through his summoning magic, Iván was well-versed, somewhat, in feeling things, feeling if a creature was hostile or not. Regardless of the way these monsters, creatures, looked, a few of them actually had human values like loyalty and respect. From the way this one was listening intently to Iván, the tinkerer could feel that it wasn’t as murderous as the rest.

“Well, there you go! You’re back to top form, as if brand new. No more annoying neck pain, right?” Iván, still smiling, eased the tension between himself and the creature as he returned his tool back inside his coat. He turned to Manya with a look of disbelief and shook his head, “This one’s not going to hurt us. As long as we make sure Black Thalia isn’t dead for a few more hours at least. You done copping some feel? We should start making plans to get out of here. This one could help.”

 

Manya just gave Ivan an exasperated look, but internally he was happy that the man had recovered from his overexertion. He nodded at him. "He might know more about the basement than us, and hopefully more than the other demons. We might be able to make our way through."

The demon's voice box - a literal box of voice! - creaked, but after the repair by Ivan, it was now running perfectly well, as the creaking faded out into a whistle-clean hum. The demon felt its throat and nodded.

...thank you, stranger.

Surprisingly enough, the demon was awfully eloquent. His voice was clear and strong, like a normal man, although that might have been because the machine was helping to clear out and translate the normal speech.

He is named Iordin, and he means no harm. Please untie him from the hold of the True Magic, and he promises to aid thee, for the sake of his mistress Thalia.

While his words might have come off as corny and weird, it seems the demon naturally referred to himself in the third person. Manya looked from @Iván Carl to Iordin and then sighed. If the former believed that the demon was going to be helpful, then Manya felt less apprehensive at loosening his bonds. He raised a hand, and with a sideways flick of his finger, the Black Magic bonds around Iordin gusted out into the air, like acrid smoke. Before long, it had dissipated to nothingness.

Iordin got up very slowly, keeping his distance from Ivan and being non-threatening and meek, but what he was looking at was Thalia. More than any fear or servile appearance, Iordin just had genuine concern on his face...or what could be counted as a face for him.

Thalia, the mistress...she was torn between her ambition and caution. She was dabbling in methods of ascension, and she was close to an answer...but it was a dangerous answer. He tried to tell her that being a demon was nothing worth struggling for, but she was straddling the line of commitment and

withhol-

Before he could speak further, footsteps tromped outside the hallway, and his single red eye glowed darker.

They're searching for thee, and the mistress! They're close, beware!

Iordin glanced at the door, and then at the two inside, three if you counted Manya. For a second, it almost seemed like he was about to betray them to the searching team, but instead, he did not hold any malice in his being. Only deception.

Thou with the illusory powers, make the room appear empty save for me. He shall speak to the patrol, tell them that thou aren't here, but act in haste! They're coming close!

Manya tensed up, sitting up straight and looking at the door. He felt a sudden surge of paranoia, and fear in what might happen should Iordin betray them to the demon patrol. He might have been acting weak and helpless since he was outgunned and outnumbered, but now that he had reinforcements...

No, that didn't make sense. If he knew where they were, then he could have brought the horde to them from the beginning, couldn't he? Perhaps he truly was being genuine with his actions. Manya made a split second decision, and he took it. Besides, if they were going to be caught, this was a good place to force a chokepoint, and go down fighting the demons, or even win against them!

At this point, the contract work was pretty much null and void anyway.

"...we'll trust him. I'll make the room darker, you hide us.", he said to Ivan, waiting for his call on this plan.

 

Iván narrowed his eyes, which were full of skepticism, at the creature that had began to speak, in common tongue, after the tinkerer managed to fix his neck apparatus, apparently some sort of universal or at least common tongue translator. Why a necromancer like Black Thalia, jiggly as she was, had to resort to tinkering up that sort of gadget for a creature she should have been able to fluently talk to in demon tongue escaped Iván. Scratch that, he did not want to know. Whatever that reason was, it was probably as funked up as her, as this whole situation, and Iván could only take as much. Besides, they had something else that needed to be their top priority.

Turning to @Manya Boole, the tinkerer nodded to imply that they should go with the creature. For now. If it pulls anything weird on them, anyway, there were two of them, one of whom was a White Mage who could more or less just disintegrate this buttface just like that. The other one? Well, let's just say that while he was fixing that creature's neck apparatus, he also sneaked in it a tiny bomb that with one press of a magic button will explode its head. Just like that. Either way, the creature was of no threat to them. Not at the moment, anyway.

Iván kept his eyes on the creature. Despite the reassurances they had in place, it would be dumb to let such a thing escape their sight. They had to be wary of it, of everything in this purple god forsaken place. This wasn't their territory. They had no ideas about the law and the lay of this land. Even if they had to accept help from this creature, it would be best to still consider the worst that could happen so they could prepare for it anyway they could. Iedi would probably funk Iván up if he ended up showing at her temple once again.

Listening intently to the creature, Iordin, Iván sat on the floor with crossed legs and crossed arms, eyes glued on it. Of course Black Thalia was a power hungry idiot. All necromancers were, more of less. Dabbling with forces beyond your comprehension, forces you shouldn't mess with, specifically forces of life and death, was a travesty of ambition, of hunger for power, of idiocy. Mortal men, and women, should stick to what they know, the elements they could control, not forsake their souls to things they could never hope to rein in. Not without too much sacrifice, and necromancy was a whole world of consistent sacrifices.

What makes it different from chronomancy? A familiar voice, female, rang in Iván's head. It was probably just his subconscious, nothing special, but he decided to indulge it without putting more than a passing note of its existence. It wasn't like his first time getting his mind warped by unknown forces. Chronomancy has rules, which chronomancers follow. We never go past our limit. We cannot. The very fabric of time, that which waits for no one, that which heals all wounds, would be put in dire peril should any chronomancer decide to break those rules, and time, like most elements that were beyond mortal comprehension, did not appreciate its rules being broken.

Iván was caught unprepared, surprised even, when Iordin interrupted himself to warn them of his coming kind, "Searching? Close? Who? Your friends? Did you betray us? I swear, I'll pump lightning into your face from where you---" But the creature cut him off, too, with a hand towards his face.

No time. Trust Iordin. For the mistress. Please.

The illusionist gritted his teeth and tried to calm himself down. It wasn't like they had any other choice on the matter, anyway. He turned to Manya, nodding as the Faerin professed his support of the creature. Channeling his illusion magic, and expending just the right amount of energy, which was more than the normal amount he'd need to expend just for himself, Iván created an illusionary field that should hide them, himself, the Faerin, and the unconscious necromancer, by temporarily altering the perception of the creatures that would come upon them. Hopefully, necromancers didn't leave some sort of stink that demons and other creatures could smell like he'd read from the books.

Veil

Without even turning to Manya, Iván whispered to him as soon as his spell was cast, though he was still channeling it, as he needed to continue expending energy to support the illusionary field, "Your turn, kid.

 

Manya cracked his knuckles, tiny fingers popping before he held his hands up. Demons had pretty good night vision, yes...but a bit more shadow cover would be useful in appearing inconspicuous, glossing over any part of the Illusion spell that was also keeping them hidden.

Dim Vision

Manya's mana storage took a pretty sharp hit from casting the spell, but the room instantly became darker, any trace of light from the torches outside being simply blotted out and away. He moved his hands, holding it open and pointed to either side as he channeled it. The initial start-up took a bit out of him, but keeping the spell up was a bit easier, thankfully!

Iordin blinked and tilted his head. They had vanished! He took that as reassurance that they had successfully hidden. He just had enough time to turn towards the door and take a step, when the door was kicked open.

The first demon to come through was the Foooooood demon. Corpulent, massive, with two stubby black horns on its head and clawed hands, its eyes were glowing coal-red as it stepped into the place, nose twitching as it smelled the air. For the love of [Insert Deity Here], Manya was praying that they didn't smell too delicious.

The second demon was a bit less familiar. It was shaped like a normal human, with average proportions, and wearing a loincloth and a necklace of skulls. And with hands that were just simply a pair of blades. Gleaming even in the magical darkness, it had stains of red crusted over it, and it wasn't likely to be salsa dip.

But the third one...that was the 'Holy Crap' moment. Manya might have gasped, but he had the good sense to not blow their whole cover. The trio of demons was sniffing the air like someone had just left out a delicious pie to cool, except that demon in the center of the clique.

She tossed her hair back and crossed her arms, stopping the incessant jiggling as she stared at Iordin. unlike the rest, she was looking around, shadowed eyes studying the room curtly. "What are you doing here? Are you searching for them?"

You had to be either blind or very poor-sighted to mistake the figure in front of them for anything but a still very poorly dressed Thalia, but now, her eyes were sunken and hollow. Her fingers were tipped with green, dropping nails and her hair was let loose behind her back - the full demon makeover, it seems. Manya actually glanced around...but Thalia was right there! Lying unconscious still on the floor, but not dead. He turned his attention back to this doppelganger, studying her carefully. From within her crossed arms, there was a faint purple glow on her breast. Her blank eyes were looking at Iordin, waiting for an answer.

Iordin didn't answer quickly, but when he did, it was with a much less polite and dignified tone.

Huhuhu...no, he hasn't found them yet...but he can smell them. He thinks they ran past the room, into the wine cellars!

Iordin gave another, mechanical and distinctly evil-sounding guffaw, before stepping forward with his misshapen legs.

Let Iordin come with thee, so we can feast!

But the Demoness raised her hand curtly, giving Iordin a once over.

"First things first...we're not going to eat them, dimwit. We must sacrifice them to the Other Side, so we can kill the other one and be free of her control! And second...your puny legs can't keep up with us. Go search someplace else." And turning on her heels, the Demoness stalked out, snapping her fingers and having the lackeys follow as well.

Iordin waited, counting down to ten, before walking over to the door - with a perfectly normal pace - and closing it. He snorted, before turning to look at the duo and made a gesture with his hands.

It is safe now, strangers.

Manya gulped, as he slowed down and finally paused the channeling. During the whole event, he was a mixture of confusion, anger, fear, and plain old wonder, but now that the demons were gone, all he felt was relief. Iordin could have sold them out easier than breathing (even if said breathing would have gotten a lot harder right after) but he didn't...so he could be trusted?

Well, as much as a normal person could trust a demon, at least. His 'feast' comment made Manya slightly wary, after all. But the Faerin looked from the unconscious Thalia on the floor, to the door through which the Demoness had exited.

The other one? Sacrifice? Other Side?

What in the blue blazes was going on?! He glared at Iordin - he should have answers, after all. And he'd damn well also have an idea to get out of here - Manya was sick to the gills with the demon business right now. Whatever was going on, whoever was responsible...he was planning to ask for quadruple the gold. And that's being generous!

 

Three days ago, in Terra Sphere, Iván met a blonde Caenis at The Fancy Pepper for some good-old fashioned drinks and whatnot. But more than that, more than the appearance they kept on the surface, it was a meeting of contingencies, something he had decided to whip up in order to make sure that things wouldn't go as terribly while he was gone. He wasn't in the mind to just leave things to fate or chance without at least giving himself some proper precautions. Destiny could be quite the loca, after all.

"I'm meeting Prontera soon. I might not be around for a while," Iván murmured to the blonde Caenis under his breath, with a deceitful grin for anyone who was staring at them, before he took a quick sip of his mug of ant juice. It would've been strange if he chugged the bottle he kept with him at all times, so he decided to ask one of his old waiter friends at The Fancy Pepper for some empty mug, which that waiter friend faithfully obliged, which Iván then poured into some of his ant juice. The smell was probably bothering the Caenis, but she spoke no ill of the mug in Iván's hands. Scents could be just as deceiving as appearances, and the ant juice, despite its odor, was flavorful, fruity, and delicious. It was, perhaps, Iván's favorite drink.

"He's sendin' you on another errand?," The blonde Caenis, wearing some sort of steel white armor, did not lean back or lean forward while addressing Iván. Instead, she stood upright, like a trained soldier of sorts, perhaps even a knight, though she would no longer be the latter, considering her current disposition. With narrowed eyes, glued on Iván's own pair, she flashed him a playful grin, teasing but not that much, making sure to respect his station against his in a way that only honorable soldiers, knights, bound to familial codes of honor tend to do. "He must pay a lot to keep our captain away from us."

Iván simply smirked at the Caenis' teasing but indulged her with an explanation, "It is a friendly request, which I believe could be used as a bargaining chip, some sort of leverage, for the future." The master chronomancer looked around them effortlessly, trying to seem like he was just bored when in fact he was trying to find anyone that might be spying on them. The past few days have been quite hectic and stressful for him for reasons he didn't really want to think about at the moment. He just wanted to bid his favorite Caenis goodbye but he was still wary of unseen problems, difficulties, that may continue to haunt them, him specifically.

"I see. I shouldn't have been concerned about your decision. You've always been really good with foresight and plannin' for the future," the blonde Caenis switched from a teasing look in her eyes to a more admiring, somewhat infatuated twinkle in those same eyes. Since the first time they met, she had always bore some sort of affection towards Iván, if not merely admiration for the things that she had come to know about him, the things she had come to respect, the things only the ones close to the man had ever witnessed, experienced.

"Yes, well..." Iván held his mug with both hands, leaning forward, toward the Caenis, as if ready to talk more about the business at hand, delicate if it were, or at least not for everyone else, at least just for the two of them. "Yuisis, while I'm gone, keep watch over the Curry House. There are...some people, like me, working there at the moment. A lot of them. Might be nice to have someone watch over them. For security purposes."

The grin Iván flashed made the blonde Caenis, Yuisis, realize that something was up at the Curry House. She had been there once or twice, posing as a patron, with only Iván and herself, plus a few others, knowing her true relationship with the owner whose name was on that vandalized sign. Heaving a sigh, she furrowed her brow and nodded at him, determination on her face, "Understood, boss. Anythin' else?"

Iván switched faces, turning his friendly smiling demeanor into a more serious one with tight-knit eyebrows and a piercing gaze into Yuisis' very soul. Carefully, he placed his mug on one side of the table, freeing the space between him and the Caenis. He then placed his hands, open palms to the air, on that table, in front of Yuisis, "Yes. Your hands please," Caenis stared at him in disbelief, half suddenly afraid, half suddenly grossed out. But Iván would not be denied, so kept staring at her with those piercing green eyes, waiting for her to surrender her hands, paws, or whatever a Caenis had, until she finally relented and awkwardly placed hers on top of his. In one fluid motion, Iván took Yuisis' hands and put them on his face, as if he was washing his face with her Caenis hands. "Oh, purple god, your hands are so warm."

Yuisis heaved an annoyed sigh, blushing, as she stared at Iván who took delight in the, well, warmth of her hands.

Back in that room with @Manya Boole, an unconscious Black Thalia, and the creature known as Iordin, Iván braced himself for what could come once the demon hunting squad opened their doors. A lot of things could happen. Despite having full confidence in his illusion magic and in Manya's Faerin magic, Iván was still wary of so many things that could go wrong, specifically that demon sniffing thing he had read about. He had no first-hand experience regarding the matter, so he could not verify the veracity of that piece of trivia, but he still considered it, knowing that if he didn't, that mistake alone could cost them lives.

With clenched fists, Iván continued to expend energy to keep his illusionary field working. The interaction between Iordin and the other demons made him uneasy, mentally preparing himself should the former betray them to his kind. A demon was a demon, after all, in much the same way as humans were humans, even though Iván didn't really consider himself as a stereotypical greedy, power-hungry human whether in this world or the other one. He had his flaws, his sins, but he still believed himself to be one of a kind.

He swallowed air as he saw the Demoness, instinctively turning to Black Thalia's unconscious human body to check on her. She was still there. The creature that had taken her face, her form, proceeded to give them all the information they needed to know. Was it Black Thalia's subconscious slipping? Or was the Demoness just that confidence with her plan, believing two humans with a knocked-out baggage wouldn't put up much fight to cause her downfall?

Whatever it was, Iván heaved a sigh of relief once Iordin told them that the coast was finally clear. For a few seconds more, Iván maintained the field just in case Iordin was wrong. Once his suspicions were dealt with, he heaved another sigh before taking it down. He was almost out of energy now. He needed some rest. "You did good, Iordin. Your mistress would be proud of you." Whether the creature beamed at that positive reinforcement, the chronomancer did not know, did not bother to know, did not really care about. He only cared about one thing in his mind. "I just have one question, though... Who the hell was that?!"

Iordin hesitated for a couple of seconds, staring at Iván and then Manya before turning back to the chronomancer. It seemed that Iván never strayed away, his eyes glued on the creature, waiting for his answer to his question. Iordin relented and finally gave him what he sought at that very moment.

Deanna... Her name. Eater of Souls, Eye of Judgment.

Iván sighed, not out of relief, but more out of annoyance, considering the answer Iordin gave them was not an enlightening one, "Okay. Let's pretend that we know what any of that means, that we even care about that thing's title and whatever. My next question is, I'm sure you already know this was coming, judging by how you were able to answer my previous question without asking for any clarification... What the hell is Deanna doing with Black Thalia's face?!"

This time, Iordin did not hesitate to answer. One look at his mistress, and the creature knew that it needed to provide the necessary information for the adventures, in order for them to save her and subsequently themselves. Iordin, deep within it, considered the very fact that anything related to demons, information and whatnot, should be only shared with necromancers and their kin. This was, however, a special situation, one that would remove its necromancer off the table, off existence itself, if the creature would not comply.

Deanna... Mistress had to mark to summon to this world. Mark was bond between two. Mistress lost head, mind. Deanna take it, her face, her form. Mistress trapped if Deanna keeps face.

Iván eyed the creature with utmost skepticism. All that it said, imparted them, was pretty stupid. Black Thalia, in order to summon that Deanna demon, had to mark her with some sort of bond between them? Now that Black Thalia was unconscious, Deanna managed to take her face, her form, by trapping her somewhere, sometime, somewhatever? Necromancy was pretty stupid. But then again, that's the whole sacrifice bull people who tried to control forces beyond their comprehension had to make. More or less.

"So..." Iván turned to Manya, sighing. Things were getting more and more complicated by the minute. "...you buying any of this?"

 

Manya thought about the whole thing.

"It's one of them demonic contract things. Demons are notorious for trying to wring out a profit in all the contracts, so it's not hard to see someone like Thalia," That is, someone who is a total ditz. "...end up getting the short stick."

The name didn't mean much, nor did the title, but he could see a connection in the method used.

"They need Thalia's body - intact, if possible. But before that, they need a human sacrifice to break down the control she has over them. While that's around, I don't think the demons have much power outside of this basement, maybe the whole house. I'm guessing one of us is the sacrifice. Once that's done, Deanna will possess Thalia's body properly, and nothing would be able to stop her since she's now anchored to the real world. If we kill her, she'll just respawn."

Imagine a player, who did not have to suffer DAs, who could die and return as many times as needed, and who was far more powerful than anything any other player could throw at them. That would be the ultimate result of this whole mess. But then, Ivan wasn't asking if he bought the explanation - he was asking if he believed Iordin. Manya stared at Iordin with a hardened expression.

"If a sacrifice is made and the demons are freed, it's going to be good for you - your kind will be able to do as you wish. So why are you so intent on staying a servant?"

Iordin's red eye blinked once, as he turned to look at Thalia once more.

...he has given up hope.

Manya narrowed his eyes. "Given up hope on what?"

Given up hope on rebellion. Do you know of the Other Side? Strong demons rule, and the weak suffer. No mercy for the likes of Iordin. We take offers of humans to come to this plane willingly.

The automaton demon paced slowly, turning away to look at the door in case another patrol approached.

If we fight, crusaders and zealots come, smite us back. Suffering here, then suffering there. Much better off as servants than becoming kings, and failing.

Manya narrowed his eyes. "But Deanna could be strong enough to ruin entire armies. You'd rather be a slave?"

Iordin didn't even hesitate when he nodded.

Only Deanna. Others will be weak. Will be killed. Deanna is strong but can be sealed away. Demon's life is of pain, and suffering, and cruelty. He is done with it. He just wants to spend his life as a servant.

He looked at Manya, and his blank face showed no expression, but determination and focus.

Don't question his freedom, his right. He finds happiness serving humans. He means no harm. Yet he is reviled and hated by the likes of you. Don't believe him, but he will still work to save his mistress.

Manya was quiet, unable to really answer to that. It would seem that he and Ivan weren't too different in that Manya had placed a minor Black Magic curse on the demon that would immobilize hm again should Manya will it to happen. They had their bases covered, so perhaps they could trust the demon...

Or if not trust, then use him. He glanced at Ivan and nodded his head once. "No choice, really. And I think he means well. He could have sold us out five times over by now. Just don't make any deals or promises with him."

Manya turned to face Iordin and gave a curt nod. "You're in the clear...for now."

And with that, he stepped back to lean against the wall. He needed to recover, but he also needed to think. They could formulate a plan, something that could help in busting through the demon lines and getting out. But then Thalia...

Darn it. They were going to have to save her too, it seems. She was innocent and caught in the crossfire, after all. Besides, they needed the gold.

"Alright then. Huddle up, boys. We need a plan..."

And so begins the plotting, the scheming, the escape and assault plan. Time to get out of here.