Arrival of the Messengers

Necromundus - City Center


 * The quirky architecture of the mist-laden city of Necromundus is distinguished primarily by the absence of many right angles. Wooden-slats climb walls that are rectangular cubes, but the lines from ground to gable form rather oblong angles, giving everything from the dominant clock tower to the grand gold-domed opera house a rather unstable appearance.


 * Ghostly entities of many shapes and sizes can often be seen traveling the narrow, fog-shrouded streets, on their way to the Place of Choosing or preparing to resurrect after some sort of misadventure or accident beyond the great portals that lead to strange and distant realms.


 * A cobblestone street snakes northeast toward low hills surrounded by wrought-iron fences and tombstones, while a rutted grass path heads south toward the stinking mire known as the Rotting Bog.


 * It is a cool afternoon. The slightest breeze stirs over the land infrequently.


 * It rains heavily, drenching the land in water.

One can always tell, when a new demon comes to Necromundus. It's the way the air reeks of sulphur and smoke rises from the flagstones. A circle of flame bursts into being, roaring skyward...and when it fades, there's a rather short little brunette woman standing where fire briefly blazed. She looks around herself with interest.

Circling high above the City Center, the little dark red figure that is Zariel pauses a moment as eyes catch sight of something shiny in down at ground level. He sweeps downwards, then, gliding smoothly towards solid earth. The figure grows larger, wings the first detail visible as he gets closer to solid earth.

"Ah, newbies," Miran leans back in her patio chair, serenely watching the world slowly saturate with the persistant rain. She's carefully situated under an umbrella, and well bundled in a red coat with white fur trim.

Lasciel smiles brightly, the businesslike female flashing a set of bright white fangs. "Enjoying yourselves?" she asks.

Zariel lands, dropping into a crouch and then rising back up. "S'better than hell," he remarks with a shrug, "That's good enough for me." She walks over towards Lasciel casually, tilting his head at her, "Nice teeth. I did away with the fangs, myself - makes it weird to talk." He grins a set of humanoid chompers, "So what is it you get to do up here?"

Miran continues to watch, absently patting a small bag in her lap. Not much to say, yet, to the newcomer.

"Prepare the way," says Lasciel, smile fading. "You have failed. Both of you," and she slants a glance at Miran. "The Dark Council is sending a new supervisor. Plutok and I are to see what we can clean up before he gets here."

"Oh, blow me," Zariel replies to Lasciel, laughing, "Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass it is to promote evil up here? Especially with the goodies having the upper hand to begin with. Failed my ass - we're still working on it."

Miran says, "You're pretty lippy for a little tart," Miran notes. "They don't send people up here for promotions. This is where you go when you're in their way.""

"I am a servant of the demon lord who is on his way here," says Lasciel with a grin. "You have grown soft out here. The Lords of the Pit have not forgotten you, either of you, or this city. Touch me and know a lord's wrath personally and directly on his arrival." She turns her cool stare on Zariel. "He will not accept excuses. Be assured of that."

"Look at my record," Zariel replies simply, infernal growl growing behind his voice, "Name one person - demon or not - who has worked harder to try and raise evil up than me." His eyes turn black and he growls openly at the demoness, but stays his ground... well, except to be a smartass. He reaches a hand out at the woman and hovers it about an inch in front of her face (assuming she doesn't move away).

Miran laughs even harder at the forboding words. "Sweetheart, I've never even -been- down under, so you can just toddle along singing your little doom and gloom jingle. I'll let you know if I ever decide to care. I'm sure you've noticed, since you're /so/ well connected, that you're not exactly the first ladder climber to try and make an impression here." She shrugs. "Vouchers are all find and paper pushery, but I'm pretty sure anyone glancing around here would find -very- few examples of really "good" individuals. Even that asshat Cephas is a real bastard. Hell, he even makes Zar there look sweet."

"That 'paper pushing' will be our right to claim this city for our own," says Lasciel simply, watching Zariel wave his hand at her with a little smile. The fangs just barely show. "I would not call myself the first climber. But I can tell you that a lord is coming *here*. And any demon that hasn't done enough in his judgment is going to wish they'd died mortal."

"I take offense to that," Wrath says to Miran, "He's just a jackass. I'm the one who rends flesh for fun." He lowers his hand, then, and remarks Lasc's way, "Yeah, yeah, save it. I'm the best damn demon we've got and your lord knows it."

Miran just shakes her head. "I already wish that dear. I started that way, I see no reason for it to have changed all a sudden." She flicks her fingers at Zar, "Don't get all stuffy. We're all delightfully unkind in our own ways. He's just so /pompous/. And a chicken."

"If he knew that, he would not be coming *here*," repeats Lasciel with deliberate patience. "And for me, this assignment is a reward. Once my adjustment period has passed, I have a score to settle. Whether my master succeeds or fails, I will *enjoy* settling it."

Mir hmms softly. "Well that last bit sounds promising," she notes. "Ten to one, whatever lord drew the short straw gets bored and goes back downstairs before too long. Zar's right...we're doing a good job. The best part is, people don't even realize they're doing it. Perversion of the righteously ignorant is an art."

"Fifty thousand credits say you're wrong, Miran," Zariel remarks lightly, glancing back to Lasciel, "A score to settle, eh? Who with?"

"The Ascendant who ended my last mortal assignment rather too abruptly," says Lasciel with a smile. "I would not want to spoil the surprise. I am *sure* he missed me. After all, I took such care to make him...properly beautiful. He screamed all night."

Miran continues to pat the velvet bag gently, eyebrows raising. "Hmm. That sounds like fun. You'll have to show me sometime." She hops off her chair, moving the umbrella with her, and carefully stepping around the puddles. "See? Its much more fun up here when we focus on our talents." She eyes Zar for a moment, and considers. "I suppose that's fine..its just money. Not very exciting."

Zariel double-takes at Lasciel, eyes widening as her words sink in. "You...," he starts, brows knitting, "You're the one who... those markings..." The demon's brain continues to struggle with processing the information for a moment, before he shakes his head as though to clear it, "Back off from that one, I'm working on him. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get an angel to trust a demon? You'll fuck everything up for me and I haven't had a chance to get to his friends much yet."

Mir tilts her head, studying the two. "Another space invader?" She asks finally.

Lasciel smiles, the fangs perhaps having little to do with the snakelike impression. "We can certainly give the appearance of working separately, but my dears...you are focusing perhaps too much on subtlety. Greed, treason, apathy...we can do so much with simple *fear*. They know in this place not to fear death. If they believe they have nothing left to fear, nothing greater, then truly we have not been doing our *job*. I, for one, fully intend to *enjoy* it."

The Demon of Wrath's eyes return to their usual shade of red as he opens his mouth, closes it again, and then opens it once more. "I was a real bastard when I was alive, but I never got so cruel as you," he remarks, sounding mildly awed (and even a little fearful), "I need to spend more time around you - Fairy Boy and his love triangle got me acting soft." He shudders at the thought.

"Must be a yes," Mir answers herself. The three are standing loosely about in a triangle, Miran carefully sheltered under an umbrella.

"I was a healer," says Lasciel to Miran, still with that reptilian smile. "...When it suited me to be so. What one mends, one can also break. I have always felt that healers make the very best torturers."

"The Dark Lords have truly granted me their power!" comes a deep voice from the portal plaza, and yup, here comes Plutok, pretty much drenched in blood at the moment as well, his wings spread fairly wide.

"Erm, yeah, she's from the space-age group," Zariel says to Miran, "Tortured Ravus with acid when he was alive, left some disturbingly delicate scars all over the guy. Ever seen those silver markings he sometimes sports?" He smirks, then, "And I believe he payed you back in spades, didn't he newbie? Gun in the mouth, right?" And then that deep voice catches his attention and he half-turns Plutok's way, a hand over his face, "Jesus Christ, that one's gonna make us all look retarded..."

Miran grins at Lasciel's self-explanation. "Heh. Particularly in Eloise's case." She turns, though, as Zar facepalms. "........"

Lasciel shrugs lightly. "He had to bring an army with him to do it," she says. "And now it will not be so simple for him to get away." She seems pleased. "I scarred his *soul*. I scarred the soul of an Ascendant." She waves a hand at the incoming happy demon. "This is my associate Plutok. Sent here, like myself, to prepare the way for our master."

"By Khorne's throne of skulls!" Bellows Pultok. Yes, he's happy, "My fellow Demons, why are you simply standing around when you could be glorifying the Dark Lords? Spill blood for Khorne! Spread rot and decay for Father Nurgle! Seek out the utmost pleasures for Slaanesh! And bring change for Tzeenzch!" he decries, waving his sword around as he moves towards the demons.

"Oh my fucking god," Zariel says, laughing helplessly into his hand, "Do you have any idea just how stupid you sound right now, Plutok? Tone it down a little, you freaky little bastard."

Miran just blinks and takes a delicate step backwards. "This is what they sent up?" She turns to look again at Lasciel. "Well...one out of two, I suppose."

"He outranks me," says Lasciel with an amused fang-display of her own, though the unspoken 'for now' is almost audible. "He is a master of ...the direct approach, you see." She brushes down her attire. "Ah well. The first order of business is being properly attired and acclimatized. And then, well, we shall begin the work proper, and prepare for our master's arrival."

"Yes!" Plutok replies to Zariel, "Take pleasure and worship Slaanesh!" he throws his head back and laughs, a very evil and demonic sounding cackle that is, "The arrival of our Demon Prince will be most glorious, and we shall pave his way with skulls, rot, pleasure, and change!" he replies to Lasciel, "But the proper equiment is required at this time."

"You mean the freak talking about 'Nurgle' outranks the woman who scarred an angel's soul? Seems kind of... backwards," Zariel sighs, "You two need any help getting gear? Nurgle-boy's right that it's sort of pointless to just stand around here."

With a wrinkle of her dainty nose, Miran casts an appealing glance at Zar. "Are you really surprised? It is so typical of the bureaucratic systems."

Lasciel laughs. "Yes. Yes, we would appreciate assistance in acquiring proper equipment. It will serve the double purpose of helping us to become familiar with the territory. If you are willing, of course."

"I will return for equipment when I have appeased Slaanesh," Plutok replies to Zariel, beginning to walk off towards the portal plaza again, "I shall find something to rape, and then eat it's heart."

"I wouldn't offer if I wasn't willing," Zariel remarks, giving Plutok a look that clearly expresses all sorts of disgust. "He said some/thing/ to rape... not someone, some/thing/," the demon remarks, "Please tell me I'm not going to have to spend any time around that one."

Miran just sighs. "See you around, I'm sure." She heads up towards the dwellings.