Velvet Words and Steel Ire
Twenty Fifth Day of the Second Month 294 AC
Tuin trusted the devil before him less than he would have trusted a razor-tooth of the deep jungles with raw flesh, less for the razortooth might yet be sated with meat, but a devil with power never. It was a familiar feeling, one he had not realized he missed in this realm of soft mortals who so often meant what they said and said what they meant. "In my lord's service there are many of your kindred. Certainly, you could regard them as mad for turning their backs on Baator, but we haven't exactly been losing this entire time, now have we? Maybe we're all equally mad in this game."
"Perhaps," the devil offered softly, or perhaps it is that you do not see the whole of the board, the foes arrayed against you. "I know your lord, his history and heritage, better than you might think. I know his dreams, for they echo in minds chasing chimeric 'freedoms' that will never be. Breaker of Chains they call him, savior of slaves. Tell me drow, begotten of darkness by darkness enduring, do you believe in the words you say, do you believe in the one you serve, or are you just waiting for his sun to set that you might have your freedom in the night to come?"
For a moment Tuin recoiled, for much of what the pale fiend said that true. This empire was too soft, too bright, like silk woven into a garrote about to tighten, like gems given as gifts coated in poison. He did not believe it could last. Even the Dominion of Lolth had broken at the last under his very eyes, to his profit and his sorrow, she who had been wiser and more ruthless by far. Yet they were not here to discuss philosophy nor yet politics. "I think that you forget your place upon the board "
He let the tapestry of spells sing through him, and through his brother and the red haired mortal as well. She might as well put the hatred gleaming in her gaze to good use.
A a true denizen of the Outer Dark, be they tanar'ri or baatezu, could vanish in the space of three long breaths given the chance. He does not get the chance. Whatever sorcery he might have thought to wield, however sharp the circling tongue, arms made swifter and stronger by Tuin's magic cut into infernal flesh and spill black blood upon the stones, the creature falls to one knee, gasping out one last desperate plea.
The cold hearth explodes with hellfire and from it spring beasts
shimmering with infernal fire, beloved of the lord of the Ninth. The time for subtlety is well past.
"They seek to push us back!" Tuin shouted over the sound of tumbling pans and shattering earthenware.
"Real perceptive, ain't you?" The mortal Anya shouted even as she called upon her long dead kindred for skill. Morwin, by contrast, allowed himself to be pushed back and bitten by flaming jaws, only to rush back,
borrowing the fierce charge of a blood-slasher with a crude but undeniably effective spell.
Were those the bones of long dead beasts given new purpose in Hell or were they wrought in some infernal forge? Tuin wondered as vines burst forth from underfoot to trip the greater fiend, whike Morwin tumbled among the chaos, lashing out first at one then another of the burning quartet. A giant's strength serves Tuin in good stead, smashing one beast against the wall and clearing the way to its master
Finally, to Morwin's obvious annoyance, the mortal Anya claims the head of the greater fiend, tongue still lolling from its lips, The beasts took a while yet to slay to the last, for they were clever as they were strong, and vicious enough to try to at least drag one of their foes with them into death. In the end, however, through guile of their own they triumphed.
Alas, once battle was over Morwin was not the only one frustrated with their company. Turning to Tuin, she spat, "What the fuck were you doing talking to it?"
"Trying to obtain more knowledge than can be obtained from a corpse," the drow replied, absentmindedly picking through the bones for a trophy.
"After it got in my head and tried to make me go crazy?" she snapped. "You would have trusted it after that?"
"I don't trust anyone," Tuin replied, not even looking at his brother.
"I was after all a lie they had been telling since they were children."
To that she did not seem to have an answer, though anger still simmered in her eyes. Tuin was used to that, too.
From what PoV do you wish to see the debriefing of the cultists of Meraxes and the interrogation of the memory devil's corpse?
[] Viserys
[] Melisandre
[] Malarys
[] Write in
OOC: Now that I actually set out to write character interaction I realize how remiss I've been in doing them recently. On a better note Anya has leveled up with this fight. Not yet edited. 
