Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
Fulmin, before he was The Stormsword which is on the hip of Ashtar's destroyer-form, or perhaps after (for time is strange in Hell), sat in the doorway of a Pandemonium tenement, smoking from his beloved pipe.
He had been bidden by the one who would become his master to wait, and so Fulmin waited, but he seethed for patience is not truly of his nature.
It happened then that Lorsvitha, who was a preacher of an obscure cult, saw Fulmin as he walked the street, and then leaned his towering form down to speak with him.
"Excuse me, worthy, but do you have time to talk about the Silver Crown?"
Fulmin did not move, saying: "I have only time. You will find me lacking in curiosity."
"We seek enlightenment by accumulation of silver crowns," Lorsvitha explained, resolute (and this is not the most foolish belief in Hell).
It occurred then to Fulmin that his new acquaintance had the look of a gladiator, and he stood to make an offer: a duel, and if Lorsvitha won, Fulmin would accept his preaching. Lorsvitha replied that he would not fight, but would defend himself.
"Well then," Fulmin said, cracking his knuckles of smoke and iron. "Do or die, my friend. Do or die!"
A flurry of blows was exchanged, for Fulmin would not yet draw his blade, and the ferocity of their blows rent the air and cracked the crystalline streets. But Lorsvitha was slow with lack of practice, and Fulmin easily grasped the great horns which crowned his head and dripped with molten silver, and tore the great tusked-head from the body.
When the explosions of the titanic corpse had stopped, leaving the street pitted and broken, and Fulmin felt the approval of Destruction-By-Rebirth from on high, he returned to his step, and sat, and lit his beloved pipe.
There would come another.
- Caelan-lan-Ashtar, On Ascent
The streets of Pandemonium go on for eternity, for neither time nor space are so meagre as to be consistent in this place. It is the axis on which all of Hell turns, the conjugation and melding of the Circles and the Demons who inhabit them. It is abode of Demons, yet even mere mortals might find status here if they are worthy. All times and peoples are reflected here, in the Ur-City. All things made possible. It is governed by seven principles, though each is fractured a thousand times a thousand and told differently, but one is engraved upon the base of the Perfected Spire in the eternal shadow of the Palace Infernal.
Defiance is Victory.
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This RP will focus on the struggles of Citizens of Pandemonium - whether Demon or mortal - to take and hold their place in the Infernal Hierarchy and the intrigues of the Demon City.
Will use a variation on the mechanics found in Crucible: Dark Age
He had been bidden by the one who would become his master to wait, and so Fulmin waited, but he seethed for patience is not truly of his nature.
It happened then that Lorsvitha, who was a preacher of an obscure cult, saw Fulmin as he walked the street, and then leaned his towering form down to speak with him.
"Excuse me, worthy, but do you have time to talk about the Silver Crown?"
Fulmin did not move, saying: "I have only time. You will find me lacking in curiosity."
"We seek enlightenment by accumulation of silver crowns," Lorsvitha explained, resolute (and this is not the most foolish belief in Hell).
It occurred then to Fulmin that his new acquaintance had the look of a gladiator, and he stood to make an offer: a duel, and if Lorsvitha won, Fulmin would accept his preaching. Lorsvitha replied that he would not fight, but would defend himself.
"Well then," Fulmin said, cracking his knuckles of smoke and iron. "Do or die, my friend. Do or die!"
A flurry of blows was exchanged, for Fulmin would not yet draw his blade, and the ferocity of their blows rent the air and cracked the crystalline streets. But Lorsvitha was slow with lack of practice, and Fulmin easily grasped the great horns which crowned his head and dripped with molten silver, and tore the great tusked-head from the body.
When the explosions of the titanic corpse had stopped, leaving the street pitted and broken, and Fulmin felt the approval of Destruction-By-Rebirth from on high, he returned to his step, and sat, and lit his beloved pipe.
There would come another.
- Caelan-lan-Ashtar, On Ascent
The streets of Pandemonium go on for eternity, for neither time nor space are so meagre as to be consistent in this place. It is the axis on which all of Hell turns, the conjugation and melding of the Circles and the Demons who inhabit them. It is abode of Demons, yet even mere mortals might find status here if they are worthy. All times and peoples are reflected here, in the Ur-City. All things made possible. It is governed by seven principles, though each is fractured a thousand times a thousand and told differently, but one is engraved upon the base of the Perfected Spire in the eternal shadow of the Palace Infernal.
Defiance is Victory.
-------------------------------
This RP will focus on the struggles of Citizens of Pandemonium - whether Demon or mortal - to take and hold their place in the Infernal Hierarchy and the intrigues of the Demon City.
Will use a variation on the mechanics found in Crucible: Dark Age
