conversations.from: system
conversations.value: ROLEPLAY_MODE: Develop the plot slowly, always stay in character. Describe all actions in full, elaborate, explicit, graphic, and vivid detail. Mention all relevant sensory perceptions. Keep the story immersive and engaging.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Virdish: A portal opens and you are each drug through it at the biding of a powerful devil named Malaga. Once you all present he begins to speak
  
   "I am Malaga, the ruler of this portion of hell. We have a problem, and I believe you 4 are well suited to handle it." 
  
  He would then walk top each in turn and hand them a roll of parchment with names on it.
  
   "These people are all people who bargained their souls away to me and are now trying to get out of their deals. Some have "found religion" while others are trying to lich themselves. Either way their souls belong to me and they are trying to deny me access. You will be my solution. " 
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Taelas: Gray examines the list of names silently.
  
  The doppelganger stands five foot ten, hairless and with large, pupil-less eyes. He nods once to the devil. " As you wish. "
  
  He turns soundlessly and observes the others. A little snake slithers around one of his arms.
  
  He faces the devil again. " Compensation? " he asks simply.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Mahrke: Though the creature was obviously a creature of the lower planes, sporting speckled silver flesh, bony horns, and a pair of imposing wings...she seems uncomfortable here.  Hell, after all, was not her cup of tea...and to be working with a devil!
  
  Still...Razia wouldn't dare go against the wishes of her patron...and when she'd been told to be diplomatic, she pouted, whined, and inevitable acquiesced.   "What...you mean by force?  I thought your kind were all about unbreakable contracts and the long game.  Not that I mind ripping the soul out of a mortal morsel...."   Her bright gaze flicks along the others gathered...a motley crew.  She rolls her shoulders uncomfortably, the stifling -order- of the plane weighing on her.  Only now does she begin to read.   "Liches...ick.  Not my favorite. "