mystic1110
The Golden Palace of Perfection stands as a beacon of unnatural splendor amidst the gloom of the Deep Forest. Majestic and imposing, it evokes the grandeur of the Halls of the Dripping Throne, but unlike the decaying remnants of ancient power, this palace was in immaculate repair. The structure gleamed under an unseen light source, its walls made of polished gold that reflected the surrounding forest in distorted, dreamlike images. The palace's architecture was a blend of regal elegance and eerie perfection, every detail meticulously crafted to inspire envy.

The grand entrance of the palace was flanked by towering golden statues, their lifelike eyes following any who approached. Inside, the halls were illuminated not by candles but by an ambient glow that seemed to emanate from the very walls. There were no candles anywhere in the Palace. The stained glass windows that would have been found in the Halls of the Dripping Throne were replaced by sheets of reflective gold, casting a dazzling, blinding light throughout the corridors. The floors were covered in plush crimson carpets, leading to the grand feasting hall where an opulent banquet awaited the Lanternholders.
The grand feast was a surreal display of abundance. Long tables groaned under the weight of sumptuous dishes, exotic fruits, roasted meats, and delicate pastries. Goblets of shimmering liquid, promising unknown delights glinted invitingly. The air was thick with the scent of spices and roasted game.

The denizens of the palace moved with a disciplined grace, their eyes reflecting the cold light of the golden walls. The Dread Host, once a force of relentless darkness, now served the Princes of Perfect Rule with a grim resignation. Their armor, dark and intimidating, was polished to a mirror finish, their eyes devoid of the malevolent spark they once held. The Frost Queen, an ethereal beauty clad in ice-blue robes that seemed to shimmer with an internal frost, presided over the feast. Despite bending her knees to the Princes, her gaze was still cold and calculating, her smile a thin veneer of hospitality. She moved with an effortless grace, her every gesture exuding chilling authority.

At the head of the feast stood Chen Bil'Rama, the First Appeaser. The ancient Arachne king was a nightmarish figure, his grotesque form illuminated by the ambient glow. His eight legs, burdened with countless knees, flexed at unnatural angles as he guarded the golden curtain that blocked the view of the Princes. His exoskeleton, etched with pulsing arcane symbols, glowed faintly, casting twisted shadows on the floor. His clouded, milky eyes scanned the room, ever watchful.

Behind the golden curtain, the presence of the Princes of Perfect Rule was palpable. Though hidden from view, their influence permeated the palace. The curtain itself was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, embroidered with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and change when viewed from different angles. The Lanternholders, the chosen few invited to this grand feast, were greeted with a display of grandeur. The palace, with its perfect facade stood as a testament to the Princes' vision of flawless rule.

Chen Bil'Rama strikes his shield on the ground causing all in the room to turn their attentions towards the curtain, from hence overlapping voices speak:

 “We extend to you our most sincere greetings and offer you the hospitality of our table. Partake in these feasts, savor these gifts, for they are but a small token of the perfection we promise.

You have journeyed far, bearing the weight of your Lanterns through the darkness. The King of Wax and Wick's game has brought you here, a game that promises victory yet delivers only a return to ruin. Look around you, at the fallen empires, the shattered realms that now reside in the Necropolis. Time has no bearing on your histories, look around, some of these fallen are from ages that must be from various pasts and others are surely from dead sterile futures. Consider, what if, in some distant cycle, each of you had once claimed victory in this game? Only to end up back here. What if this is all but an endless recursion, a loop that ensnares even the most triumphant in a fate of perpetual decay?

To break free from this cycle, to truly move forward, one must look within and acknowledge your own failures and faults. We, the Princes of Perfect Rule, offer you that. Bend your knees to a greater power, and in return, we shall grant you fulfillment and understanding. No longer will you be pawns in the King of Wax and Wick's futile game. Instead, you will join us in a realm beyond the reach of ruin, where your rules will be eternal, unmarred by this cycle.” 
 All hostile force or conviction actions against any character (NPC or Player) will have to pass the Princes Suggestive Voices (Roll against Discretion 10). 
 
 Spoiler:  The Gifts of the Princes 
The Princes are using the carrot insead of the stick and attempt to bribe players to become Appeasers with the following Enactments:
 
 Pursuit of Truth: +1 Investigate 
 Shields of Perseveration: -10% Casualties 
 Tools of Prosperity: +1 Acquisition 
 Rites of Purification: +1 Consecration.  
 
Any players that mechanically attend may choose one of the above to receive from the Princes as an unconditioned gift. If a Player becomes an Appeaser, they gain each of the above.
 
PepperP.
A breathless sigh whispered in his ear and he turned towards the sound for just a moment, but it was already gone in the wind. Maldarr frowned and lifted his lantern in front of his good eye. His frown turned ever deeper as he saw the glow had vanished from it.

 How can I find her without a light?
Her? 

He meandered an unknown path until he found himself drawn towards a palace of golden light.

 As golden as her hair. 

A fragrance both unknown and so familiar that the notes of it were etched into his very bones hit him, and he breathed it in greedily until it was gone again.

 Vanilla and musk. 

He entered the palace and eyed the figures behind the curtain skeptically, though there was a certain kinship he felt at the sight of the tattooed abomination, Maldarr too bore the many tattoos of his accomplishments, his bare torso was inked in intricate swirls and designs beneath his black cloak.

 "No, I  must  go back!"  Maldarr's voice was as urgent and desperate as he replied to the Princes speech.

 "I'm looking for  her . My lantern went out. I can't find her."  He lifted his dark lantern, the confusion of a lost boy in his eyes.

 "I don't think she's here." 
Aedilred
Were it not for the green of the verdigris lantern, one might almost have thought the queen were still in her bleached, monochrome home. On closer inspection, there was perhaps a hint of purple in her gauzy robe, and the blackness of her eyes, her skin, her hair, gleamed slightly like a precious stone in the light, rather than swallowing it as it might have at home. She carried herself with a confidence almost wholly convincing: some hint of inexperienced nervousness might be apparent but only to the most trained eye.

" We thank you for your hospitality, " she said, with a gracious but somewhat formal air, before taking her seat at the table. She made no comment on the offer. Not yet.

There was no such ambiguity about Kusal. Purple and blue, his grey hair still streaked with colour, his golden robe and staff of office - he would draw the eye even in the richest of visual environments. And while he might no longer be regent in name, there was nothing other than assuredness about his stance or expression.

At least, not for a moment, before a memory swooped across the aeons to slap him across the face.

"  Maldarr ? " he said. " By the fire, is that you? "

 
 
PepperP.
Maldarr turned towards the voice and blinked as several brightly hued figures crossed his memory, including a certain blue-haired cad that made him clench his fists in annoyance.

 "K... Kusal? Yes, I'm Maldarr, that's the one thing I've never lost. It's good to see somebody familiar, though a shame you're stuck in this wretched place. Were... were you dawn to the lights as well?" 
Lleban
Toyollo entered the palace eyes flickering reflections of his lantern embers. A black veil shrouds his face beneath the eyes, obscuring his terrible brands. His large frame walks with a brisk stride outpacing the illusory shadows of servents.

He stares down each of the princes weary of their appeal. Flaws? Flaws are those who struggle and die in the bronze ring. He was already at the brink of perfection as it was. Uxmal has only been temporarily embarrassed by the Cinder Queens' forces. There is no point to going to a realm beyond ruin without dragging that damned dragon to ruin first.

  "Escape? Will escaping from this cycle heal my wounds They ache princes. When I'm bathed in the light of the lamps I find succor. Will your eternity make me perfect?"  
mystic1110
The ambient glow of the Golden Palace of Perfection reflected off the gleaming walls, casting surreal, distorted images that seemed to shimmer and warp with the movements of those within. The tension in the grand feasting hall grew palpable as Maldarr and Toyollo stood before the golden curtain, the weight of the Princes' unseen presence pressing down on them like a physical force.

Chen Bil'Rama's grotesque form loomed in the foreground, his milky eyes scanning the room with a predatory intensity. But it was the curtain, embroidered with shifting patterns, that held the room's attention. From behind it, the overlapping voices of the Princes of Perfect Rule emerged once more, their tones a blend of calm authority and insidious empathy.

"Maldarr, the lost and the desperate," the voices intoned, harmonizing in an eerie chorus.  "You wander through the shadows, searching for a light that has long since dimmed. Your journey has been fraught with pain and longing, and you have become consumed by the very darkness you sought to escape. The love you seek, the purpose you crave, has been obscured by the scars of your past. You cling to the memory of what was, unable to see the reality of what is. Your lantern is but a reflection of your inner turmoil, extinguished by the weight of unresolved grief and guilt."
 
The voices grew softer, almost soothing, as they continued.  "You must understand, Maldarr, that your pain is not a burden you must bear alone. You have spent so long seeking to find her, yet it is not her you need to find—it is yourself. Your heart, once full of hope, has been fractured by loss, and in your desperation, you have become a broken man. But brokenness is not the end. It is the beginning of healing, of transformation. We offer you the chance to rebuild, to restore that which has been shattered. Submit to a higher power, and we shall guide you through the process of mending your soul. Only then will you find the peace you so desperately seek, and perhaps, the light that will lead you back to her." 

A pause, filled with a heavy silence, allowed Maldarr's desperate breathing to echo in the grand hall. The weight of the words hung in the air, a lifeline cast out to a drowning man.

The voices shifted, their tone sharpening with a deeper resonance as they addressed Toyollo.  "You, Toyollo, the warrior, the conqueror, the bearer of wounds both physical and spiritual. You cloak yourself in the mantle of strength, yet beneath that veil lies a man ravaged by the very fires he has kindled. Your soul is marked by the scars of battle, your heart by the bitterness of defeat. You have pursued perfection through conquest, believing that victory will heal your pain, but in truth, it only deepens the wounds." 

The voices took on a tone of gentle reproach, a parent guiding a wayward child.  "Your desire for succor in the light of the lamps is but a temporary balm for the deep, festering wounds within you. The ache you feel, the constant, gnawing pain, is the result of unresolved trauma, of battles fought not just in the world, but within your very soul. You are a man who has been broken by his own quest for perfection, spreading hurt through the territories you conquer and the nation you call home. Your power, your strength—it is built on a foundation of suffering and fear. And this, Toyollo, is why you are trapped in an endless cycle of pain." 

The voices softened again, weaving their words with the language of healing.  "To break free, to truly achieve the perfection you seek, you must first acknowledge your own brokenness. You must submit to a higher power, to a process of healing that goes beyond the superficial victories of war. We offer you the tools, the guidance, to rebuild yourself, to heal your nation, and to find peace. In our realm, beyond the reach of ruin, you will be made whole. Your wounds will close, your pain will fade, and you will emerge not just as a warrior, but as a ruler of true, unblemished perfection." 

The room seemed to hold its breath as the Princes' voices fell silent, leaving Maldarr and Toyollo to grapple with the weight of their words. The offer hung in the air, shimmering like the golden walls around them—an invitation to surrender, to heal, to escape the endless cycle of suffering that had defined their lives.

And as the ambient light flickered and the grand feasting hall remained eerily still, the Princes of Perfect Rule waited, their unseen presence a constant reminder of the power they wielded, and the salvation they offered to those willing to bend the knee.
Torv
A trio of elves came to a halt under the dead gaze of the golden statues. Tethering in the limbo between outdoors and inside whispers wormed their way inside tense minds, turning convictions to doubts. Perhaps the weakling was not here after all - No, he would not dare besmirch so lustrous halls with his dimmed light. Perhaps they should wait outside. Yes.

Videljus entered the palace alone, her blonde hair cut short, straight scars radiating out from her clothes and hinting at something greater beneath. Casting a glance over the feast her eyes lingered at Kusal, offering him a canine smile and a wave, before coming to a rest at The Frost Queen. Giddily skipping around servants and attendants alike from one end of the hall to another in one graceful, yet entirely improper display of dexterity she reached her newest puzzle out of breath.

 “Hiiii . . . You are truly beautiful . . . Could I have your name?” 
mystic1110
The Frost Queen regarded Videljus with a cold, imperious gaze, her expression as unyielding as the ice she commanded. Her voice, smooth and crystalline, resonated through the grand hall, laced with a chill that seemed to sap the warmth from the air.  "Little creature, you would do well to remember your place in this palace of perfection," she intoned, her words dripping with disdain. "This is not a playground for your childish whims, nor am I a toy to be trifled with. The airs of lightheartedness may amuse you, but here, they are as out of place as a flame in the depths of winter." 

Her icy blue eyes narrowed as she continued,  "You speak of beauty, yet your words betray the discord within your soul. A mind as scattered as yours cannot hope to grasp the true nature of what lies before you. Behave with the decorum befitting this sacred place, or you will find that the consequences of your frivolity are far colder than you could ever imagine. "

The Frost Queen turned away, dismissing Videljus with a flick of her wrist, as if brushing away an insignificant snowflake.
Torv
When being brushed aside something flickered behind Videljus’ eyes and before she could stop herself she had grabbed the Queen’s wrist in her own hand. Janked forward by the rigid turns she nearly folded in half before coming to a stop on her knees. Her eyes misty with a mix of fury and longing, giving way to mischief. Pressing feverishly hot lips against the icy hand she began to mumble an excuse.

  “Deepest apologies my lady. I am no flame but a wildfire waiting to erupt, at times it escapes. My realm burns with the warmth of summer, I am sorry for bringing its joy to winter. Clearly you are not mine to toy with. Can you not hear your masters’ voices, those same voices that sowed doubt in my kin at the mere thought of disorder? I apologies for plucking at your chains, discord cannot be pleasant when you are stored in a neat row of Appeasers. I am truly sorry for that.
And I do believe I never got your name?”  

As Videljus was talking her grip got tighter around the Queen and nearly scalding hot, as she was burning up from within, some unseen force lending strength to her words.

 [Attempt to, if possible, aid the voices in reaching the Queen -  fail ]
 
mystic1110
The Frost Queen's composure remained unbroken as Videljus clutched her wrist, the scalding heat searing into her flesh like a brand. Her eyes, as cold and unyielding as ever, locked onto Videljus, betraying not a hint of the agony coursing through her arm. She stood tall, her poise untouched by the wild energy crackling from the elf before her. The room seemed to hold its breath as the icy monarch weathered the storm of heat and fury, her regal presence unshaken.

With a voice as steady as the winter wind, she spoke, each word deliberate and measured,  "Do you intend to hurt me, child of summer? "

Meanwhile, Chen Bil'Rama, the First Appeaser, shifted his grotesque form with a fluid, almost unnatural grace. His eight legs moved in sync, the countless knees flexing at odd angles as he sensed a disturbance. The ambient glow of the palace walls reflected off his polished exoskeleton, casting twisted shadows as he moved.

His shield, scraped lightly against the floor as he crawled towards the source of the tension. His milky eyes, clouded yet unyielding, locked onto Sigracielle and Videljus, his gaze narrowing as he approached. The soft hum of his chitinous limbs against the golden floor filled the air, a sound that silenced the whispering servants and stilled the flickering reflections in the hall.

 "Sigracielle,"  Chen Bil'Rama's voice was a low, reverberating growl, his words laced with an eerie calmness.  "Is there anything the matter?" 

His attention shifted to Videljus, her hand still clasped around Sigracielle's wrist, her expression a volatile mix of fury and mischief. The Old King tilted his head, his grotesque form looming over them like a nightmarish sentinel.

 "And this one,"  he continued, his voice dripping with a dark curiosity, " Is she here to bend the knee, or does she seek to bring discord to the perfection of our rule?"  

The Frost Queen met Chen Bil'Rama's gaze with serene composure. She slowly turned her head, her voice like the softest whisper of wind over frozen ground.

" Lord Chen Bil'Rama ," she began, her tone as gentle as falling snow, " there is no cause for alarm. Our guest here ," she glanced down at Videljus with a faint smile one usually reserves for unruly children, " is merely overwhelmed by the grandeur of our palace. It is not uncommon for those unaccustomed to perfection to act out of turn ."

Chen Bil'Rama narrowed his milky eyes, the arcane symbols etched into his exoskeleton pulsing faintly as he absorbed Sigracielle's words. His many knees flexed slightly, the dark, polished carapace of his body gleaming in the palace's golden light. For a moment, he seemed to study Videljus, his expression unreadable, as if weighing the potential threat in her presence.

With a curt nod, Chen Bil'Rama relented, his shield scraping lightly against the marble floor as he withdrew. " As you say, Third Appeaser, " he rasped, his voice like the grinding of ancient stone. " But ," he added, his tone laced with a subtle warning, " the fire that burns too brightly may still leave scars, even on the coldest ice. I shall keep watch, in case this flame needs... further guidance. "
Torv
Shivering under the cold gaze of Winter Videljus instinctively gripped tighter before the words reached her, seemingly lost in her own momentum. With a strained exhale she let go and stood up, nearly stumbling into the queen while muttering under her breath, before catching her balance. Her gaze slowly focused on her surroundings and froze at the arachnid form moving away, having been within arms reach a few moments ago.

 “No, I do not intend to harm you,  Queen . You seem far more capable than I. I shall listen to the  Princes’  dreams of monotony. Ta-ta!” 

Still swaying from side to side Videljus haltingly followed after the First Appeaser, towards the golden curtain, her face glimmering with ice droplets and clothes soaked through with sweat.
Lleban
 
 Spoiler: Princes Babbel  

 
 Originally Posted by mystic1110 
 The ambient glow of the Golden Palace of Perfection reflected off the gleaming walls, casting surreal, distorted images that seemed to shimmer and warp with the movements of those within. The tension in the grand feasting hall grew palpable as Maldarr and Toyollo stood before the golden curtain, the weight of the Princes' unseen presence pressing down on them like a physical force.

Chen Bil'Rama's grotesque form loomed in the foreground, his milky eyes scanning the room with a predatory intensity. But it was the curtain, embroidered with shifting patterns, that held the room's attention. From behind it, the overlapping voices of the Princes of Perfect Rule emerged once more, their tones a blend of calm authority and insidious empathy.

"Maldarr, the lost and the desperate," the voices intoned, harmonizing in an eerie chorus.  "You wander through the shadows, searching for a light that has long since dimmed. Your journey has been fraught with pain and longing, and you have become consumed by the very darkness you sought to escape. The love you seek, the purpose you crave, has been obscured by the scars of your past. You cling to the memory of what was, unable to see the reality of what is. Your lantern is but a reflection of your inner turmoil, extinguished by the weight of unresolved grief and guilt."
 
The voices grew softer, almost soothing, as they continued.  "You must understand, Maldarr, that your pain is not a burden you must bear alone. You have spent so long seeking to find her, yet it is not her you need to find—it is yourself. Your heart, once full of hope, has been fractured by loss, and in your desperation, you have become a broken man. But brokenness is not the end. It is the beginning of healing, of transformation. We offer you the chance to rebuild, to restore that which has been shattered. Submit to a higher power, and we shall guide you through the process of mending your soul. Only then will you find the peace you so desperately seek, and perhaps, the light that will lead you back to her." 

A pause, filled with a heavy silence, allowed Maldarr's desperate breathing to echo in the grand hall. The weight of the words hung in the air, a lifeline cast out to a drowning man.

The voices shifted, their tone sharpening with a deeper resonance as they addressed Toyollo.  "You, Toyollo, the warrior, the conqueror, the bearer of wounds both physical and spiritual. You cloak yourself in the mantle of strength, yet beneath that veil lies a man ravaged by the very fires he has kindled. Your soul is marked by the scars of battle, your heart by the bitterness of defeat. You have pursued perfection through conquest, believing that victory will heal your pain, but in truth, it only deepens the wounds." 

The voices took on a tone of gentle reproach, a parent guiding a wayward child.  "Your desire for succor in the light of the lamps is but a temporary balm for the deep, festering wounds within you. The ache you feel, the constant, gnawing pain, is the result of unresolved trauma, of battles fought not just in the world, but within your very soul. You are a man who has been broken by his own quest for perfection, spreading hurt through the territories you conquer and the nation you call home. Your power, your strength—it is built on a foundation of suffering and fear. And this, Toyollo, is why you are trapped in an endless cycle of pain." 

The voices softened again, weaving their words with the language of healing.  "To break free, to truly achieve the perfection you seek, you must first acknowledge your own brokenness. You must submit to a higher power, to a process of healing that goes beyond the superficial victories of war. We offer you the tools, the guidance, to rebuild yourself, to heal your nation, and to find peace. In our realm, beyond the reach of ruin, you will be made whole. Your wounds will close, your pain will fade, and you will emerge not just as a warrior, but as a ruler of true, unblemished perfection." 

The room seemed to hold its breath as the Princes' voices fell silent, leaving Maldarr and Toyollo to grapple with the weight of their words. The offer hung in the air, shimmering like the golden walls around them—an invitation to surrender, to heal, to escape the endless cycle of suffering that had defined their lives.

And as the ambient light flickered and the grand feasting hall remained eerily still, the Princes of Perfect Rule waited, their unseen presence a constant reminder of the power they wielded, and the salvation they offered to those willing to bend the knee. 
 
 


Toyollo steps back, bowing over as if he had been punched in the gut. The entire room began rotating at a break-neck pace. The air reeked of acrid smoke and burning flesh. His skin felt as if it was peeling from a bath in coarse ash. Only the verdigris glow of the lantern remained stable in the general eyes.

 The Light will  sustain  

The Light gives  succor 

The Light will  sublime  
In a blood canal, a serpent rises through the peril and flame. Before Toyollo can react he is contracted by the coils of viscera. It puppets his neck skyward with such abruptness it would break a lesser man's neck. Toyollo is forced to peer at the passing Dragon. A titanic creature whose belly was covered in scale-like plates of basalt and obsidian, jutting out like blades cutting the sky itself. With feverish eyes, Toyollo began shaping the coils into a massive longbow nearly seven feet in height. As he strung the bow he heard the command of Xykothos.

  "You have sacrificed enough child. You have the power. Now Reach PERFECTION."
  
  Back in the real world.
Back in uxmal.  

Back in front of the princes, Toyollo stood straight, his pondering hurtling towards its dusk.

  "So you're telling me... I can achieve perfection through violence. I've indeed felt crass and undisciplined as of late."

"Yes it's clear now, the power to slay the monster was within all along. I can pierce the darkness with my blood. Break the sky with my arrows and drain my enemies' ambition."  
Aedilred
 
 Originally Posted by PepperP. 
 Maldarr turned towards the voice and blinked as several brightly hued figures crossed his memory, including a certain blue-haired cad that made him clench his fists in annoyance.

 "K... Kusal? Yes, I'm Maldarr, that's the one thing I've never lost. It's good to see somebody familiar, though a shame you're stuck in this wretched place. Were... were you dawn to the lights as well?"  
 

" I have walked the halls of the King of Wax and Wick, and our sun still burns in Onende, though we have lost our guiding star for the time being. But what has happened to you? Have you lost your light? "


 
 Originally Posted by mystic1110 
 The voices softened again, weaving their words with the language of healing.  "To break free, to truly achieve the perfection you seek, you must first acknowledge your own brokenness. You must submit to a higher power, to a process of healing that goes beyond the superficial victories of war. We offer you the tools, the guidance, to rebuild yourself, to heal your nation, and to find peace. In our realm, beyond the reach of ruin, you will be made whole. Your wounds will close, your pain will fade, and you will emerge not just as a warrior, but as a ruler of true, unblemished perfection."  
 

Hannah listened to the Princes' pitch and raised one elegant eyebrow. There was a wordless exchange of glances with Kusal, and then she turned back to their hosts.

" You promise us a life unending, without pain, perfection, of a kind. But what is such an existence worth? A life without change, evolution, improvement, the effects of time - such is merely another form of death. Inexorable, inevitable, but without the relief from consciousness that death brings. Surely it is its very imperfection that gives life value? Your offer, generous as it may be, promises an existence free from entropy, free from imperfection, a neverending ennui. Such is not for us. "

Kusal nodded, almost imperceptibly.
PepperP.
 
 Originally Posted by Aedilred 
 " I have walked the halls of the King of Wax and Wick, and our sun still burns in Onende, though we have lost our guiding star for the time being. But what has happened to you? Have you lost your light? "  
 

 "My light?"  A flash of golden curls crossed his mind before he realized Kusal's intention.

 "Yes, my lantern has gone out."  He held it up to show him.

 "Wait, weren't there three of us? Where are the Grey?"  Instead of their allies, a sinister pale face with jet-black eyes and long pointed ears filled his vision.

 "The Aeldir..."  He clutched his head in his free hand.

 "I am sorry, Princes. I mean no disrespect, but I must go back. I must find him, the Eternal Lord of Winter known as Balor Morrig. I believe that's where I'll find her." 
mystic1110
 
 Spoiler: Toyollo 

 
 Originally Posted by Lleban 
  
 Spoiler: Princes Babbel  
 


Toyollo steps back, bowing over as if he had been punched in the gut. The entire room began rotating at a break-neck pace. The air reeked of acrid smoke and burning flesh. His skin felt as if it was peeling from a bath in coarse ash. Only the verdigris glow of the lantern remained stable in the general eyes.

 The Light will  sustain  

The Light gives  succor 

The Light will  sublime  
In a blood canal, a serpent rises through the peril and flame. Before Toyollo can react he is contracted by the coils of viscera. It puppets his neck skyward with such abruptness it would break a lesser man's neck. Toyollo is forced to peer at the passing Dragon. A titanic creature whose belly was covered in scale-like plates of basalt and obsidian, jutting out like blades cutting the sky itself. With feverish eyes, Toyollo began shaping the coils into a massive longbow nearly seven feet in height. As he strung the bow he heard the command of Xykothos.

  "You have sacrificed enough child. You have the power. Now Reach PERFECTION."
  
  Back in the real world.
Back in uxmal.  

Back in front of the princes, Toyollo stood straight, his pondering hurtling towards its dusk.

  "So you're telling me... I can achieve perfection through violence. I've indeed felt crass and undisciplined as of late."

"Yes it's clear now, the power to slay the monster was within all along. I can pierce the darkness with my blood. Break the sky with my arrows and drain my enemies' ambition."   
 
 


The voices of the Princes of Perfect Rule echoed through the golden hall, their tones soft yet resonant, like the tolling of distant bells.

" Violence for its own sake is an empty pursuit, Toyollo ," they intoned in unison, their words weaving through the air like a silken thread. " It is a hollow echo that reverberates endlessly in the void, feeding only the darkness it seeks to destroy. But violence, when tempered with purpose, guided by a higher understanding, becomes a tool of healing, a force of true change ."

The ambient light within the palace seemed to shift subtly, casting the walls in a warm, soothing glow as the Princes continued. " If you would accept our guidance, you will find that the power within you can be honed, perfected—not as a weapon of destruction, but as an instrument of justice and order. Your strength, your violence, will no longer be crass and undisciplined, but a means to cleanse the imperfections of the world, to bring about a peace that is eternal ."

Their voices softened, offering reassurance and the promise of clarity. " Join us, Toyollo. Let us help you channel your power not into chaos, but into a new order, one that heals the wounds of the past and ensures a future unmarred by the flaws of the present. Together, we can forge a path to true perfection ."

 
 Spoiler: Hannah 

 
 Originally Posted by Aedilred 
 "[COLOR="#800080"]

Hannah listened to the Princes' pitch and raised one elegant eyebrow. There was a wordless exchange of glances with Kusal, and then she turned back to their hosts.

" You promise us a life unending, without pain, perfection, of a kind. But what is such an existence worth? A life without change, evolution, improvement, the effects of time - such is merely another form of death. Inexorable, inevitable, but without the relief from consciousness that death brings. Surely it is its very imperfection that gives life value? Your offer, generous as it may be, promises an existence free from entropy, free from imperfection, a neverending ennui. Such is not for us. "

Kusal nodded, almost imperceptibly. 
 
 


The Princes of Perfect Rule paused, and the air within the palace grew heavier, as if the very walls were absorbing the weight of Hannah's words. When they spoke again, their voices were darker, more insistent, like a storm gathering on the horizon.

" So you turn down our offer ?" they asked, the question hanging in the air like a blade. " Do you truly believe that your fleeting, flawed existence holds value simply because it is fleeting? That imperfection, that suffering, somehow ennobles life? Such notions are the whisperings of the damned, clinging to their despair, unable to see beyond their own hubris ."

The golden light that once bathed the hall in warmth now flickered ominously, casting long, shifting shadows. " Your death, Hannah, has already meant nothing. The Necropolis is not a place for the living, but a realm for those who have been damned by their own actions, their own flaws. You are not here to find meaning in your suffering but to face the truth of what you are—what you have become. "

Their voices grew colder, tinged with disdain. " You speak of the value of imperfection, yet without perfection, nothing holds value. Your life, your struggles, are nothing more than echoes in the void, meaningless without the clarity and purpose that only we can offer. To reject us is to embrace the very emptiness you claim to fear. It is to remain trapped in the cycle of your own failures, your own sins, forever ."

The light dimmed further, casting the room in an eerie half-darkness. " Consider this carefully, Hannah. The choice you make here is not one of life or death, but of purpose or oblivion. Accept the truth of your damnation, and let us guide you to a perfection that transcends the petty sufferings of your past. Or refuse, and remain as you are—a shadow, forever lost in a world that has already forgotten you ."

 
 Spoiler: Maldarr 

 
 Originally Posted by PepperP. 
  "My light?"  A flash of golden curls crossed his mind before he realized Kusal's intention.

 "Yes, my lantern has gone out."  He held it up to show him.

 "Wait, weren't there three of us? Where are the Grey?"  Instead of their allies, a sinister pale face with jet-black eyes and long pointed ears filled his vision.

 "The Aeldir..."  He clutched his head in his free hand.

 "I am sorry, Princes. I mean no disrespect, but I must go back. I must find him, the Eternal Lord of Winter known as Balor Morrig. I believe that's where I'll find her."  
 
 


The Princes of Perfect Rule remained silent for a long, tense moment as Maldarr's words hung in the air. The golden light of the palace flickered, casting ominous shadows over their unseen forms. When they finally spoke, their voices were smooth, laced with a chilling patience.

" Do you truly believe ," they began, their tone measured and almost gentle, " that you can find him in your current state? That you can face the Eternal Lord of Winter—Balor Morrig—while still burdened by your flaws, your wounds, your imperfections? "

The light in the palace dimmed further, sharpening the contrast between the golden splendor and the encroaching darkness. " You seek him, but what will you do when you find him? Without healing yourself, without first achieving perfection, you are nothing more than a shadow, a remnant of what could have been. "

The voices grew more insistent, as if pressing against the very walls of Maldarr's mind. " Perfection is not a luxury, Maldarr; it is a necessity. To face Balor Morrig, to find the one you seek—you must first become something more than you are now. Only then can you hope to succeed. Do you think you can find him without becoming perfect first? "
Torv
 
 Originally Posted by Torv 
 Shivering under the cold gaze of Winter Videljus instinctively gripped tighter before the words reached her, seemingly lost in her own momentum. With a strained exhale she let go and stood up, nearly stumbling into the queen while muttering under her breath, before catching her balance. Her gaze slowly focused on her surroundings and froze at the arachnid form moving away, having been within arms reach a few moments ago.

 “No, I do not intend to harm you,  Queen . You seem far more capable than I. I shall listen to the  Princes’  dreams of monotony. Ta-ta!” 

Still swaying from side to side Videljus haltingly followed after the First Appeaser, towards the golden curtain, her face glimmering with ice droplets and clothes soaked through with sweat. 
 

On her long walk over to the curtain the ice melted and Videljus began steaming in the literal sense, her soaked clothes leaving wisps of fog behind as she arrived and listened to the Princes’ pitch. First they spoke of force and Perfection. Then they spoke of damnation and Perfection. Lastly they spoke of weakness and Perfection. Then she waited. And waited. And waiiiiiited. Until she could not help herself anymore.

 “Perfection, hu. It must be hard to see your guests through a bedsheet.” 
mystic1110
As Valyn entered the opulent halls of the Palace of Perfection, the Dread Host, once a force of relentless darkness, stood rigid at the sight of her. His armor, black and polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflected the cold, golden light that permeated the palace. This warrior had been the instrument of her defeat, the one who had seen her fall in the Lanternless Region. He had watched her life slip away beneath the relentless assault of his army, yet here she was, alive, defying the very fate they had forced upon her.

The Dread Host, his helmet bearing the deep scars of that brutal battle, hesitated before stepping forward. His movements were precise, but the tension in his posture betrayed the unease simmering beneath his disciplined exterior. His voice, a low and raspy whisper, barely carried over the eerie silence that filled the grand hall. " Bloodcaller Valyn ," he murmured, disbelief threading through his words, " how is this possible? We saw you fall... We felt your blood on our blades ."

The Dread Host gestured for Valyn to follow him into a shadowed alcove, away from the all-seeing gaze of the Princes. His voice dropped even lower, a mere breath of sound as they reached the hidden space. " How can you be here ?" he asked, the disbelief giving way to something darker, more fearful. " We slew you...  your soul should have fallen from the Necropolis. Yet, here you stand, in defiance of all that binds us ."

He searched Valyn's face for answers, his expression a mix of dread and a flicker of hope, as though her mere presence might unravel the chains that bound him to this cursed place. " What does it mean ?" he whispered, almost to himself. " If you can return from death, what does that mean for the rest of us ?"

His words hung in the cold air, heavy with implications he could barely comprehend. The grim mask of obedience settling over his features once more, but the seeds of doubt had been planted. As he rejoined the feast, his movements precise and controlled, a new tension underpinned his every step. The perfection of the palace, once unquestionable, now seemed tenuous, as if it could shatter at the slightest provocation.

Valyn had not spoken a word, yet her presence alone had stirred something deep within the Dread Host. The silence between them held a promise of revelations to come, but for now, the questions lingered, unanswered, as the palace's golden facade glimmered coldly around them.

 
 Spoiler: Videljus 

 
 Originally Posted by Torv 
 On her long walk over to the curtain the ice melted and Videljus began steaming in the literal sense, her soaked clothes leaving wisps of fog behind as she arrived and listened to the Princes’ pitch. First they spoke of force and Perfection. Then they spoke of damnation and Perfection. Lastly they spoke of weakness and Perfection. Then she waited. And waited. And waiiiiiited. Until she could not help herself anymore.

 “Perfection, hu. It must be hard to see your guests through a bedsheet.”  
 
 


The voices of the Princes cut through the air, sharp and unyielding. The golden curtain barely flickered at Videljus’s remark, as if the beings behind it had little patience for games.

" Videljus ," they began, their tone clipped, " your impatience is what led your realm to ruin. The chaos you breed has already doomed you once. Your restless energy, your need to disrupt, is the very reason you stand here in the Necropolis ."

There was no warmth in their words, only cold precision. "  Perfection isn’t blind. You are. Your curiosity and defiance are your chains. We could guide you—show you what you seek, satisfy that insatiable hunger—but understand this: without our guidance, there will be many mysteries forever beyond your grasp  ."

The curtain remained still, their offer hanging heavily in the air. " Bend the knee, or remain lost. We will not waste time with you again ."

Sigracielle moved with a fluid elegance, her presence slicing through the charged atmosphere of the grand hall. As she approached Videljus, her expression remained cool and composed, yet her eyes glinted with an unspoken resolve. With a swift, deliberate motion, she seized Videljus by the wrist, her grip cold and unyielding, like iron chains that constrict yet promise control.

" Forgive the interruption ," Sigracielle murmured, her voice a controlled whisper as she addressed the Princes. " I will take Videljus aside and temper her fiery disposition. I assure you, she will learn to embrace and understand the true nature of perfection ."

As she guided Videljus away, her touch firm and authoritative, Chen Bil'Rama's gaze followed them with an intense scrutiny. Sigracielle met his gaze briefly, her voice carrying a chilling edge. " I will ensure that Videljus is properly disciplined and comes to terms with the expectations of our realm ."
Stygian
Golden, gleaming halls with not a speck out of place. A grand display of exorbitance and so-called generosity. Warriors bedecked in polished armor.

The Bloodcaller found it  wanting.  As she stepped into the Golden Palace, Valyn’s footsteps marred the perfect marble—searing the imprint of her blazing feet upon the carpets with every step trod upon this meticulously manufactured.. mockery of life.

But then, this was their nature. Order and chaos. Perfection against something primal. She didn’t want to be here. And they surely did not want her here—not as she was.

The Synod’s ruler did not speak throughout the many platitudes and attempts to ‘teach’ her fellow Lanternbearers. Instead, she busied herself with taking in every aspect of this gilded cage, down to its inhabitants.

It is the Dread Host’s arrival that finally spurs her interest. A smirk of derision is her initial response.. And for a moment, she seems keen to deny him the answers he craves. But, she follows after some hesitance regardless.

His words earn a bark of laughter, a flash of jagged canines.   ”Did you? Slay me, that is. All evidence before your eyes says I burn brighter than ever before.”  
  “In fact. You have done me a far more grievous wound than your blade could ever muster. I dreamt of rending you asunder. Hunting you down, and seeing the fear in your eyes as I consigned you to oblivion. You.. took that from me. Took what little spark of your soul remained.. and tossed it away.”  

Valyn paces around him in the shared alcove, her voice remaining a harsh whisper in the presence of the Princes’ watchful eyes.   “Look at you now.. perfect. And a complete, ****ing disappointment. The day I slay you, I will find no joy or accomplishment in it. And I will never forgive you for that, Appeaser.”   She growls the sobriquet as if it is offal and filth on her tongue, voice quivering with tempered rage. The flames on her feet have licked the carpet clean from the marble flooring, voracious in its appetite.

  ”But I am not without pity. Break free.. and one day, perhaps, I will deign to help you.”  
mystic1110
The Dread Host’s response was immediate, his voice cold and dripping with disdain as he fixed her with a piercing gaze. “ Break free? ” he mocked, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “ You think I need your help, Valyn ?”

He stepped closer, his presence looming over her as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “ I have the power and resources of the Princes on my side. You may burn brightly now, but that flame will flicker out eventually. And when it does, I will be there. To kill you. Again. And if you return, I will kill you again. And Again. I will find out your secret, one way or another .”

He let the words hang in the air, his gaze unrelenting as he watched for her reaction. “ You are no threat to me, Valyn. You never were. But I am a threat to you .”

The Dread Host's cruel smile lingered as he straightened, his towering presence casting a long shadow over Valyn. For a moment, his eyes raked over her, as if memorizing the defiance etched into her every feature. Without another word, he turned on his heel, his movements fluid and precise, a warrior’s grace tempered by the cold discipline of one who had seen countless battles. His footsteps echoed through the Golden Palace, a rhythmic reminder of the inevitability he spoke of, each step driving home his final point.
Aedilred
 
 Originally Posted by PepperP. 
  "Wait, weren't there three of us? Where are the Grey?"  Instead of their allies, a sinister pale face with jet-black eyes and long pointed ears filled his vision.

 "The Aeldir..."  He clutched his head in his free hand.

 "I am sorry, Princes. I mean no disrespect, but I must go back. I must find him, the Eternal Lord of Winter known as Balor Morrig. I believe that's where I'll find her."  
 

" Tamiko... or Shou, was it? " Kusal paused in momentary confusion.

Then, a moment after Maldarr mentioned the Lord of Winter, all confusion was banished. Blows rained down upon him, knives stabbing into his chest. He physically staggered, and it was all he could do not to cry out, as tears erupted from the corners of his eyes. Faces and names flitted across his memory for a moment, each replaced by another even more painful. And underpinning it all, a terror, deep and existential, a distant memory of two children alone in the snow, of a scream that shattered stone and liquefied bone, a cruel shadow curling up into the semblance of a face.

He grabbed at Maldarr's arm. " No, " he gasped. " You will find nothing there but desolation and loss, and death. I know not where she is, but if she is at Lord Winter's court, she is already lost to you. "
PepperP.
Maldarr repressed a sigh and instead patted the distraught man's arm in an attempt to comfort him. Kusal had outlived his children, and one had indeed disappeared at Lord Winter's stronghold at Caer Gheimhridh, so he had every right to be upset, but still.

 "I should be lost with her. I resisted the loss of my humanity at my love's expense, and now I am here. Doomed to wander with my half memories. That alone tells me beyond a doubt that I made the wrong decision. I won't make that mistake twice. The King of Wax and Wick has given me the chance to be with her again, and I mean to take it. I will return to Tir Amser and Balor Morrig's castle and take my rightful place by her side." 

He turned to the Princes.

 "You offer me perfection but she loved me, imperfect as I am and I am going back to her." 
mystic1110
Maldarr’s words hung in the air, echoing faintly off the stone walls. He could feel the presence of the figure behind the curtain, though they remained unseen. Guarding the curtain stood the imposing figure of Chen Bil-Rama and beside him the Dread Host, freshly arrived from his encounter with Valyn, stood with a silent, unyielding gaze. When the Princes finally spoke, it was with a chorus of echoes merged into one. The sound filled the chamber, its resonance both commanding and intimate.

"Maldarr," they began, their voice carrying a weight that seemed to press down on his very soul, " do you truly believe she is out there, beyond the Necropolis, waiting for you? This Lord of Winter, Balor Morrig— what if he is just a fading shadow, another ruler of a Lanternless Region, slowly dissolving into the void without the light of a Lantern to sustain him? " They paused, letting the weight of their words settle over him like a shroud. " And even if you do manage to return to life, to find her once more, how can you be certain that you will not repeat the same mistakes? The same path that led you here, to this place of half-life, of memories that slip through your fingers like sand? "

Their voice softened, but the urgency in their tone remained. " Maldarr, you seek perfection in your love, in your memories. We can offer this to you. Not a return to what you once had, but a chance to become more than you ever were. To be worthy of the one you seek ."

" We can guide you ." they continued, their voice weaving a web of possibilities around him, " With our help, you can be more than the man who lost everything in his pursuit of love and humanity. You can be the man she deserves, the man who can stand by her side not as a shadow of what once was, but as something new, something greater. "

Their words wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, " Consider this, Maldarr, " they urged, their voice both seductive and commanding. " You seek to reclaim what you lost, but what if the only way to truly honor her, to truly be with her, is to let go of who you were? To embrace the path we offer, and in doing so, find not only her, but yourself as well? "
Aedilred
Kusal scowled. " We need to get him out of here, " he said, to nobody in particular.

" A job for me, I think, sir, " said a familiar voice, one Kusal had forgotten was even here, and one he was glad Maldarr had not noticed until now.

Reza strolled forward, water dripping from his long blue hair, and picked up a goblet. " Pah, all this fuss over a woman, " he said, just loudly enough for Maldarr to hear.

He paused and took a long sip from his goblet.

" After all, I've had better. "
PepperP.
 "You!"  Maldarr's look of indignation turned into a deep scowl as he registered the blue-haired man's identity.

 " Reza !"  He spat the name out as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Before he could think, his right hand balled into a fist and he took a swing at Reza's face.
Aedilred
Reza had expected the blow, but the force of it took him by surprise. He staggered backwards, with his hand to his face, then looked up and smiled.

" Ah, and to think, if you'd shown this sort of spirit before, you might have kept her all to yourself. "

Hannah glanced over at the brawl and then turned back to their hosts.

" So tell me, Princes, should we accept your offer, will we care about anything so much as Maldarr here does? Will we still know passion, ecstasy - feelings of any kind? "
PepperP.
 "She was never meant to be kept captive! She was wild and beautiful and we were perfect together!"  He gave Reza a final violent shove before stalking angrily towards the palace doors.

 "I know where to find perfection and it isn't here, it isn't with you."  With a perfunctory salute in the Princes general direction, he took his leave, purpose renewed as the fog he had been living under had lifted.

 I'm coming back to you, Thalia. I swear it. 
mystic1110
The palace doors slammed shut behind Maldarr, the sound reverberating through the grand hall like a final, defiant declaration. The air settled once more into a tense stillness, the echoes of his departure slowly fading into silence. Hannah watched him leave, her gaze steady, as if weighing the implications of his choice. She turned back to the figure behind the curtain, her expression calm, but her eyes sharp with curiosity.

The Princes remained silent for a moment, letting the echoes of Maldarr's outburst dissipate before they spoke. Their voice, when it came, was smooth and measured, as though they were guiding the conversation along a carefully crafted path.

" Maldarr’s anger, his passion, his ecstasy—they are all powerful forces, yes ," they began, their voice carrying the weight of ancient wisdom, " but what have they truly brought him? Pain, suffering, madness. These feelings, unrefined, unchanneled, have led him to wander aimlessly, clinging to memories that only deepen his torment ."

The light in the palace flickered as they continued, casting the room in an eerie glow. " We do not rob anyone of their feelings, Hannah. We do not strip away passion or ecstasy. What we offer is a way to channel these emotions, to harness them, to perfect them. Maldarr’s anger is a fire that consumes him, but in our hands, that fire could be tempered, focused into something far more — Happy. "
Torv
 
 Spoiler: Sigracielle, The Ice Queen 

 
 Originally Posted by mystic1110 
 The voices of the Princes cut through the air, sharp and unyielding. The golden curtain barely flickered at Videljus’s remark, as if the beings behind it had little patience for games.

" Videljus ," they began, their tone clipped, " your impatience is what led your realm to ruin. The chaos you breed has already doomed you once. Your restless energy, your need to disrupt, is the very reason you stand here in the Necropolis ."

There was no warmth in their words, only cold precision. "  Perfection isn’t blind. You are. Your curiosity and defiance are your chains. We could guide you—show you what you seek, satisfy that insatiable hunger—but understand this: without our guidance, there will be many mysteries forever beyond your grasp  ."

The curtain remained still, their offer hanging heavily in the air. " Bend the knee, or remain lost. We will not waste time with you again ."

Sigracielle moved with a fluid elegance, her presence slicing through the charged atmosphere of the grand hall. As she approached Videljus, her expression remained cool and composed, yet her eyes glinted with an unspoken resolve. With a swift, deliberate motion, she seized Videljus by the wrist, her grip cold and unyielding, like iron chains that constrict yet promise control.

" Forgive the interruption ," Sigracielle murmured, her voice a controlled whisper as she addressed the Princes. " I will take Videljus aside and temper her fiery disposition. I assure you, she will learn to embrace and understand the true nature of perfection ."

As she guided Videljus away, her touch firm and authoritative, Chen Bil'Rama's gaze followed them with an intense scrutiny. Sigracielle met his gaze briefly, her voice carrying a chilling edge. " I will ensure that Videljus is properly disciplined and comes to terms with the expectations of our realm ." 
 
 


Videljus haltingly stepped back into the hall, a moment after Sigracielle had flowed through the crowd to preside over the feast once more. The black imprint of a slender hand still wrapped around her right wrist, a deep purple radiating outwards in severe frostbite. Her eyes found the imposing frame of Chen Bil’Rama and she began to make her way over with swaying steps, no mind paid to the other guests.

 “Hey! Big guy! I need you to chop this off. One of us knows when to stop and it’s not your princess.” 

Driving the point home she waved with her arm, the hand flapping lifelessly on its own, strangled to death by a chilling bracelet.
mystic1110
Chen Bil’Rama’s expression hardened, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the swaying Videljus as she drew near. He crossed his arms, the muscles rippling beneath his armor, and took a slow, deliberate step forward. His voice, when he spoke, was a low rumble, carrying the weight of command and a hint of amusement.

“ I’ll gladly tear that arm off, Videljus ,” he grunted, eyes narrowing as he stared down at her. “ But not before you bend the knee .”

He let the words hang in the air for a moment, allowing the gravity of his demand to sink in. “ Until then ,” he continued, his tone turning cold, “ you can suffer in your imperfections. Perhaps they’ll teach you the value of knowing when to submit .”
Stygian
The sudden and glorious display of violence against Reza seems to stir Valyn from her spiral of thoughts. A deep, guttural growl parts her lips—satisfaction, and perhaps a bit of vicarious release. She had little to add for the blue-haired whelp—who seemed to enjoy nothing more than hearing his own voice.

Instead, she turns her attention to Chen Bil-Rama next, and the maimed Videljus.

  “And there is the truth of this self-proclaimed perfection. They want submission. A faulty promise to make you complete by carving out what they deem improper and smothering it in gold to hide the flaws. Vain cowards, each and every one.”  

Valyn turns toward the elven lass.   ”They ask you to kneel. To appease and sate their infinite egos. Stand, walk from here, and I will cleave the damned thing from your shoulder and seal the wound with flame. They are not worthy of the worship they crave.”  
Torv
Videljus scoffed at the spider’s refusal, mouth opening to egg him on and closing again as the Bloodcaller interrupted her thoughts. Ruler of Okynnet she was neither one to kneel or stand tall, her trade was upheaval.

 “Bloodcaller, how very kind to insult our hosts. I do feel like someone already pointed out their many flaws. The Princess has me intrigued by their perfection.” 
 “Big fella, I’d kneel and take on your perfection but it seems surgery comes cheap these days. Tell you what, reverse the order and you have a deal, if you’re up to it.” 

Smiling, she staggered away from The First, until she was roughly equidistant from all the Lantern Holders and Appeasers, while remaining in the dead center of Chen Bil’Rama and Valyn. Falling to her knees she raised her right arm, the hand hanging limp and cold.

 “Take my hand and I’ll walk along your steps on my path. Hesitate and I’d probably fall unconscious soon. It’s been a day, okay? Now get this thing off me!” 
Aedilred
" If only we had thought to bring weapons to this feast, " Hannah said, not without some amusement apparent in her voice. She cast an eye over the groaning table and picked up a carving knife the length of her arm, then walked over to Videljus.

" Hold still. This is probably going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me. "
TheDarkDM
As the furor in the banquet hall of the Princes rose and tempers flared, it was easy to miss the change in the wind outside.  The skies above the deep forest boiled like smoke, and as Maldarr pushed into the penumbral vast separating districts of the Necropolis he felt a presence pass over and through him.  It was searing in its majesty, unyielding and terrible as it crashed around him, the heat of hungry and uncompromising passions threatening to burn him alive even as they tempted the basest part of him.  And then it was gone, and the darkness seemed at once less oppressive.  The doors to the Princes' palace rattled on their hinges, the clasp not quite caught in the wake of Maldarr's departure, a momentary imperfection that widened beneath innumerable clawed fingers of ashen smoke.  The dark presence burst into the banquet hall in a hellish blast of screaming wind, snuffing some candles while causing the flames of others to leap in their sconces like living things.  Standing in the flickering half-light at the threshold of the room was a looming figure of uttermost shadow, vaguley humanoid but titanic in height, its brow alight with stars of red, white, and gold.  Cinders that were pupils narrowed in smoky eyes, and the shadow of the Teotlkan rasped a crackling laugh.

  "Perfection indeed.  A gilded cage for cowards unwilling to live in  strife .  Pathetic."  

The fiery gaze rose to the curtain of the princes, and even in uttermost blackness fanged lips curled in a sneer.

  "Though it comes as no surprise.  Who but cowards would bend the knee to usurers and mountebanks doling out meager powers in return for degradation.  Here is Power, worms."  

A shrouded arm lifted towards Videljus and Hannah's expectant tableau, and at once the figure was bursting with blasphemous life.  Serpents of shadow and blood scythed through the air, drawing the flames of surrounding candles with them as obsidian coils wrapped around the maimed arm.  There was the high pitched keening of water screaming against white-hot metal as the offending flesh was drowned in bloody magma, the unyielding flow finding ravaged veins and ruined arteries and forcing terrible life through them once more.  Foreign power surged through Videljus' arm, and as the serpents withdrew and the bloody embrace flaked away into ash there was the lingering imprint of monstrous draconic strength in it.

  "Power exists to be used, gilded frauds, to be bestowed on those you favor or torn from the unworthy.  To meanly bargain against your scales reveals only your impotence."  
Stygian
Valyn stands silent as Teotlkan enters the palace. The display of raw power bristles something loose deep within, and she allows herself to inhale with her whole chest—as if drawing the first unimpeded breath in some time.

  “A little redundant, but more effective in the message.”   The Bloodcaller rumbled, her tone rife with annoyance. Such a feat was not beyond her in her prime. And yet, what had she allowed herself to be reduced to?

  ”Such mind games are for the weak and wretched. I did not expect to see eye to eye with you on anything, Teotlkan. But, it is refreshing to see someone else here speaking plain.”  
Torv
Videljus somehow managed to look unsteady while sitting on her knees, arm laced with power and whole again. Ugh, it was reeeaaally nice, she had not felt such vigor since spring. Yet it was not what she had asked for. **** it, she had never broken her word before and it would not do to start now simply because she would be the one to get shortchanged for a change. Ugh, this was going to hurt.

 “Hu, still there. Anyone wants it?” 
mystic1110
" Enough! " Chen Bil’Rama's voice thundered through the chamber, an almost tangible force that made the walls tremble. " Enough of this mockery, this blatant disrespect for the Princes’ benevolence! You dare scorn their offer of transcendence? "

With a swift, powerful motion, Chen Bil’Rama raised his massive shield, its surface etched with arcane symbols glowing with ominous light. He hurled it towards Videljus, the shield spinning through the air with a fierce, unstoppable momentum. The metal edge, honed to a deadly sharpness, sliced through the air and severed Videljus’s arm in a clean, brutal stroke. The severed limb fell to the floor with a sickening thud, a cascade of sparks and blood marking its trajectory.

" Enough! " Chen Bil’Rama roared again, his voice echoing with a haunting reverberation that seemed to pierce the very soul. " KNEEL! You would trifle with us, with the Princes of Perfect Rule, and seek to undermine their authority? Foolish, broken souls—what do you know of power? "

He turned his furious gaze to the gathered assembly, his eyes ablaze with disdain. " You think yourselves powerful? You are nothing more than shades, forgotten and discarded remnants of what once was. Do you truly believe that the King of Wax and Wick’s twisted games will save you? Do you imagine you understand the rules, the costs? "

The room fell silent, the weight of Chen Bil’Rama’s words pressing down like a physical force. His presence, dark and overwhelming, seemed to swallow the very light from the room.

" No! " Chen Bil’Rama continued, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. " Only the Princes offer something greater than your pathetic existence—a chance to rise above the Necropolis, to become more than the worst versions of yourselves. To claim a place in the perfect order they represent. Do not squander this chance, or face eternal damnation in the depths of your own failures. "

His great shield, now smeared with Videljus’s blood, scraped back to his side. He glared at the assembly, his voice a cold, cutting hiss. " Bow to the Princes, or be consigned to the abyss of your own making ."
Stygian
The Bloodcaller does not speak, but moves to Videljus' side--allowing the supposedly perfect being's explosion of rage to speak for itself. The crimson flames at Valyn's feet surge and whip around her form, gathering in her hand as she sears the bloody stump shut. It is painful--soothing magic is not in her repertoire--but ends swiftly as the nerves are scourged and destroyed with the rapidly melting flesh.  Concern does betray the woman's face briefly, for all of her savage instinct, before twisting into plain disgust.

  "Do not forget that you called them here because you needed  them.  You have such disdain for them, that I would not fathom you keeping their presence otherwise. But--no more flowery words. I grow tired of this game. Were you not listening? You are weak. You are wretched.  And I will see you burn ."   The last of her words distort and echo, a thunderous roar that shakes the ground around the Bloodcaller with its reverberations. The room swelters to an uncomfortable degree, and those same wicks momentarily snuffed by Teotlkan burst with voracious flames. They burn so brightly, and so fiercely, that the wax explodes in small bursts at the sconces closest to Valyn.

  " I wonder what a  perfect corpse  looks like. I look forward to finding out."   Valyn openly turns her back on Chen Bil'Rama, turning to leave the Feast behind.. If not flagrantly halted before she can depart, it takes several minutes of the Bloodcaller's absence before the temperature begins to dip once more.
TheDarkDM
Nezetkhamun watched impassively as Videljus offered up her new arm, no stranger to ingratitude from those benefitting from his beneficence.  As the empowered limb flopped limply to the floor, the shadow fingers twitched and the the blood within siphoned out in a dozen sanguine streams, coming to rest in a crimson pearl in Nezetkhamun's hand.  Unmoved by Chen Bil’Rama's rage, his scorn was redoubled at the display.  How like a kneeler, to abandon even their borrowed principles when challenged.

  "I will waste no more time on a lapdog's yammering.  Bear your choices in health, Videljus."  

Like a cloud suddenly revealing the sun, the shadow was simply gone.  The only hint to the Teotlkan's presence was the latticework of ashen veins to mark the course of his power, and two footprints melted into the immaculate gold of the floor.
Lleban
The sight of the Dragon king bothered the aggrieved general. Still it took only seconds for fear to become masked with anger. How dare such a filthy parody of a serpent face him! Even in a moment of faux offense, Toyllo knew his power was lacking. Perhaps these princes were prophets sent by Xykothos. Perhaps he needed to learn more of the faith's mysteries. The most based Blood magics were neither healing his wounds nor slaying his enemies.

In front of the princes, he bends the Knee.

  Prophets I am a soldier. What are my orders?  
SerakHawk
 
 Spoiler: Princes take an arm 

 
 Originally Posted by mystic1110 
 " Enough! " Chen Bil’Rama's voice thundered through the chamber, an almost tangible force that made the walls tremble. " Enough of this mockery, this blatant disrespect for the Princes’ benevolence! You dare scorn their offer of transcendence? "

With a swift, powerful motion, Chen Bil’Rama raised his massive shield, its surface etched with arcane symbols glowing with ominous light. He hurled it towards Videljus, the shield spinning through the air with a fierce, unstoppable momentum. The metal edge, honed to a deadly sharpness, sliced through the air and severed Videljus’s arm in a clean, brutal stroke. The severed limb fell to the floor with a sickening thud, a cascade of sparks and blood marking its trajectory.

" Enough! " Chen Bil’Rama roared again, his voice echoing with a haunting reverberation that seemed to pierce the very soul. " KNEEL! You would trifle with us, with the Princes of Perfect Rule, and seek to undermine their authority? Foolish, broken souls—what do you know of power? "

He turned his furious gaze to the gathered assembly, his eyes ablaze with disdain. " You think yourselves powerful? You are nothing more than shades, forgotten and discarded remnants of what once was. Do you truly believe that the King of Wax and Wick’s twisted games will save you? Do you imagine you understand the rules, the costs? "

The room fell silent, the weight of Chen Bil’Rama’s words pressing down like a physical force. His presence, dark and overwhelming, seemed to swallow the very light from the room.

" No! " Chen Bil’Rama continued, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. " Only the Princes offer something greater than your pathetic existence—a chance to rise above the Necropolis, to become more than the worst versions of yourselves. To claim a place in the perfect order they represent. Do not squander this chance, or face eternal damnation in the depths of your own failures. "

His great shield, now smeared with Videljus’s blood, scraped back to his side. He glared at the assembly, his voice a cold, cutting hiss. " Bow to the Princes, or be consigned to the abyss of your own making ." 
 
 


The Twilight Sovereign was content to watch the show from the shadows of the hall, listening and waiting. A deal had been made and would be fulfilled - rolling her eyes at the antics of the other ruler's games and the Prince's outbursts. Taking a sip from the wine glass in her hand the Sovereign started stalking forward out of the shadows, some of them still clinging to her armored form. The Twilight mask was cast in an obsidian hue with sparks of pearls twinkling like fading stars in the pre-dawn light - no mouth was carved on the face but the eyes shone through the gaps made for them as pitch as midnight.

Continuing her stalk to the side of Videljus the Sovereign took a single knee to pick up the severed arm in their gloves. Examining it while spinning it around she stands, idly shoving a midnight blue scarf onto Videljus' cauterized stump.

  "A shame, such a shame. A waste of a perfectly good arm - I have need of arms and legs in the dark - I think I will take this one as my own."   Dipping her head in the direction of Videljus Twilight twists the shadows clung to her into a siphon encircling the bloodless severed arm. The shadows dig into the arm and it twitches, seeming to move on its own accord before the Sovereign's shadows slow and cease, the arm bends and contorts oddly, as if with more joints and a fluidity impossible for bones before  climbing  its way up the armor of the Twilight Sovereign to rest across her shoulders as a scarf. The hands make gestures as hers do, seeming to understand her intent.

  "I have taken your arm as mine own now - are we done with these games? Are you prepared to fulfill your bargains or will you continue to taunt these..."   Squinting behind her mask the Sovereign waves dismissively at the Princes.   "... playthings."   shaking her head at Videljus in exasperation the Twilight Sovereign turns to Chen Bil’Rama.

  "I was born in the Abyss of Night and have learnt many things in the depths of my own making. This makes your 'ultimatum' a simple choice - I will not bow."  
Torv
Getting your arm cut off was unpleasant. Having your wound sealed by fire mere seconds later was pure agony. Videljus whimpered as Valyn touched her stump, giving the Bloodcaller a wink before melting flesh overtakes her world and she screams. Everything else disappears, her body thrashing on the floor Nezetkhamun disappears. Her lungs burning, as Toyllo bends the knee, all air now pained gasps.

Ragged breaths, trying to claw back sanity, as the Twilight Sovereign approaches. With her world transformed to a palm sized lump of torment one thing breaks through.  A female voice close by, different from the chilling tone of Winter. Videljus cannot remember whose it is but she knows with utmost certainty that iit is not an Appeaser that makes the claim   “Your arm . . . mine . . . now”  

Despite it all she laughs, her body an unsightly shaking mess, nearly burnt out. Pain overtaken by manic cackling she watches as the formerly kneeling lump of flesh manages to stand up, take a stumbling step towards the feast and drain a bottle of wine before slumping into a chair.

Ending her cackling, Videljus turns a viscous, canine, grin towards Chen Bil’Rama.

 "I kneeled first . . . Never again . . . of own will . . . Our deal stands . . . Twilight took hand . . . That deal . . . stands first  . . . Ta-Ta!" 

With a look that would make a corpse look alive in comparison Videljus turns away from Mr. Spider and extends her last hand towards the Twilight Sovereign.
 “Let’s go, I’ve promised you work and will see it done. I’ve had my fun.” 
SerakHawk
 
 Spoiler: Pain 

 
 Originally Posted by Torv 
 Getting your arm cut off was unpleasant. Having your wound sealed by fire mere seconds later was pure agony. Videljus whimpered as Valyn touched her stump, giving the Bloodcaller a wink before melting flesh overtakes her world and she screams. Everything else disappears, her body thrashing on the floor Nezetkhamun disappears. Her lungs burning, as Toyllo bends the knee, all air now pained gasps.

Ragged breaths, trying to claw back sanity, as the Twilight Sovereign approaches. With her world transformed to a palm sized lump of torment one thing breaks through.  A female voice close by, different from the chilling tone of Winter. Videljus cannot remember whose it is but she knows with utmost certainty that iit is not an Appeaser that makes the claim   “Your arm . . . mine . . . now”  

Despite it all she laughs, her body an unsightly shaking mess, nearly burnt out. Pain overtaken by manic cackling she watches as the formerly kneeling lump of flesh manages to stand up, take a stumbling step towards the feast and drain a bottle of wine before slumping into a chair.

Ending her cackling, Videljus turns a viscous, canine, grin towards Chen Bil’Rama.

 "I kneeled first . . . Never again . . . of own will . . . Our deal stands . . . Twilight took hand . . . That deal . . . stands first  . . . Ta-Ta!" 

With a look that would make a corpse look alive in comparison Videljus turns away from Mr. Spider and extends her last hand towards the Twilight Sovereign.
 “Let’s go, I’ve promised you work and will see it done. I’ve had my fun.”  
 
 


Clasping Videljus' extended hand Twilight gives the Princes a mock salute before spinning on her heels to stalk back into the shadows of the Necropolis almost dragging Videljus in tow.
Aedilred
Hannah simply stood and watched as a cavalcade of interlopers interfered in what should have been a simple amputation, creating an increasing mess and eventually squabbling over severed limbs.

" Well, that was all very undignified, " she said, putting the knife back carefully on the table. " I have enjoyed this insight into the perfect utopia of appeasement, but I'm afraid I'll have to think about it. "

She gave a slight bow to the table before turning and walking out. " Thank you for your hospitality .  Such as it was. "