conversations: human
conversations:  The fortress of Rotten Tooth rises out of Khalas, the first furnace of Gehenna, as a squat stone cube. Deep within the stone structure is one of the Anchors of Order, ancient pieces of Mechanus imported to Gehenna when the planes were still young to serve as a warding against the tanar'ri. Many of the Anchors were twisted by the Turning, rendered chaotic and useless, but that housed in the Rotten Tooth had remained, untwisted, unbroken, still immaculate. The Anchor kept the worst of the tanar'ri at bay; the greater their force of chaos the greater the resistance it presented to them. A mane or dretch might approach the fortress itself, and the passes it overlooked, but a true tanar'ri could only rarely even teleport past it.
  
  In its great halls the fortress housed 30,000 lemure, and their commanders all the way up to the horned devil that commanded them. Before the turning the fortress would have been commanded by a pit fiend at least, and with its newly increased strategic importance would have been commanded by one whose puissance was noted by the lord of Nessus. Now, though, there was civil war in Hell itself and support for the Blood War was less than it normally would be, and a cornugon did the job of his better. In addition to the fiends, Rotten Tooth housed three contingencies of 10,000 mortal soldiers.
  
  The commander of one of these contingencies, Baron MacStrayg, walks the outer wall of the cube, his warbat Tryg crawling across the stone behind him. MacStrayg, a vampire who sold himself to Baator for a thousand years to escape the wrath of mortal hunters, scowled out across the surface of the hellscape. Suddenly a blaring sounded across the fortress; an alarm warning all within that the Tanar'ri had breached Gehenna somewhere on the Plane. The mortals hated that sound; all ours of "day" and "night" the Tanar'ri made some little excursion, and the alarm sounded. It played a long tune this time; 10 seconds, 20 seconds and counting... a large host even by the standards of the tanar'ric hosts of late.
  
  From below an arcanaloth comes running; one of the 12 that watch the Early Warning Device and work their divinations to determine where the tanar'ric attack is. Such a job should never be trusted to the mercenary yugoloths. In the distance you can see the horizon moving, a living tide marching forward, as the arcanoloth screams in Infernal, "They attack the Tooth! They attack the Tooth!" The sky turns red, gold lightning flashing in front of the army as some being of Chaos tries to push through the shield of Order. The alarm is drowned out by the sound of thunder, like the sky being rent asunder, as the tanar'ri host in the distance continues to press forward.
  
  Horns blare, a call to battle, but the fortress is horribly outnumbered; at least a hundred thousand tanar'ri are coming from the sound of the alarm. Even so as long as the anchor holds they will be hopelessly out powered; the tanar'ri never seem to learn, numbers alone are insufficient. The call to battle stations is sounded.
  
  With the sky a dull grey, and rivers red with sediment issuing forth from around the citadel, the time for battle has come. A glance at the horizon shows that the tanar'ri forces are still about 10 miles away, but pressing against the field of Order generated by the Anchor. A true tanar'ri must be pressing against it, most likely more than one, if they wear themselves out against the field all the better. If they manage to break it, though, the Tooth may be doomed. In that case it is your responsibility to remove the Anchor from its amplifier, and pass through the Dark Gate beneath the fortress.
conversations: Zaydos:
conversations: human
conversations:  Craabezon floats above the ground, and the occasional Lemure or other, trying not to crush anyone as she moves, her large spectral arm out front, not so much to shove others but to remind people of her higher than normal status, and the fact it really hurts to get touched by it and armor didn't help.
  Some may notice she's humming some sort of tune.
conversations: Erik Vale:
conversations: human
conversations:  Sabrina sighs as she hears the horn of battle sounding once again. Others, more martial than her, would be responsible for taking the demons to task for this attack. All she knew was that her usual routine of tempting mortals to spawn more and more lemures would have to be put on hold until this threat was dealt with. And of course, her responsibility with the Anchor. Her wings spread as she went aloft as she could within the halls of the Tooth, heading to her station to watch and be ready to move.
conversations: MikelaC1:
conversations: human
conversations:  Drawing her greatsword, Jesephax begins to saunter forward, her armored form clunking with each step she took. It wasn't often enough that she could battle her own kin, but when the opportunity came she relished it. The thrill of stabbing her sword through a hulking Demons frame and showering herself in the blood. She licked her lips at the thought of it. Her wings began to spread as she steadily rose off of the ground, moving towards the vanguard to defend the Anchor.
conversations: Tychris1: