Game: Incubus (Solo)

no response....

you stay in there for what seems like hours....

contemplating whatever you happen to be contemplating...realizing that you have no memory of....anything.

But your thoughts are interrupted as the telltale blue-swirly glow of a portal breaks the ripple right in the center of the room. Out comes another beautiful woman.

Though, everything about her beauty is dark. You suspect that there is something unnatural and/or supernatural about her.

She looks right at you in a hungry manner, and approaches your cage.

How do you feel?

Her smooth voice is a strange combination of deep melancholy and ominous melody.

I am called Necravia... I am simply the superintendent of this laboratory. My master's workers found you floating in the River Styx - left for dead. It was my assignment to return you from the beyond.

She reaches out to touch you, and her hand passes right through the cage, as if it were but an illusion (or perhaps as if SHE was an illusion). Her fingers are cold, but soft, and they pleasurably graze your pectorals.

It appears you have healed well.

You are restrained for your own safety. she quickly looks around
It is not safe to be wandering these halls. The master will see you shortly, and you shall leave soon thereafter.

Something tells you that "soon" is a very, very subjective term.

She stares keenly at you.

You will find out soon enough. Without further word or warning, she leaves you be, and begins what would best be called some laboratory maintenance. Odd colored fluids of different colors labeled with names in unknown languages wait to be organized. They would probably be brightly colored, were it not for the depressingly gray lighting in the room.

For about an hour, Necravia continues to arrange the area - which wasn't too entropic to begin with - but soon begins to become chillingly perfect. All the while, completely ignoring your attempts at further conversation.

The another portal opens in front of the room.

Out steps a naked, muscular hairless human with no facial features. The subject appears to be male, but where there is to be genitals, is only what appears to be smooth, unmarked skin. He/It looks at Necravia, and she looks back - they "stare" at each other for short amount of time (though 'he' apparently doesn't have eyes). You recognize faint, distant chattering, and realize that it's in your head - you figure that you are somewhat eavsdropping on a telepathic conversation, though not quite making out the words exchanged.

"He" turns towards you and walks up to your cage. The lack of features and his deathly pale skin are more than a little disconcerting. Your forehead prickles as he tries to enter your mind.

[i]I am 4. You will now be escorted away.[/i]

OOC: Telepathic convo is in colored Italics and Bold, whereas regular convo is in colored bold.

Also, to visualize "4," imagine an animated mannequin from a clothing store.

Negative- I am not Master- I am 4 - I shall escort you to master. Do you comply?

You may remain here, for eternity, if you'd like.

The way in which he communicates this is not as threatening as it is matter-of-fact.

Without a word, with a wave of 4's hand, the cage around you vanishes. He then steps towards the center of the room, and waits for you to follow.

Necravia does not give you a verbal response, though steals a casual glance. You swear that for a second, you noticed a coy mischievousness in her large, dark eyes, but before you can dwell on it, you feel your body being lifted away from the dark laboratory.

You are now in a very large room, also circular. The darkness is overwhelming. A soft light illuminates the center of room.

A figure stands on a throne surrounded by cobwebs and corpses, his pale skin rivals that of the skeletons around. He wears sharp, dark interlocking armor and carries a very large sword. The man... if that's what he is... is easily 7 feet tall. He looks down at you with a stern gaze from across the room, and the unspoken, untelepathic command is irresistible. You come towards him, hitting cobwebs along the way. until you are standing directly in front of him

4 doesn't have to tell you to figure it out. This is Master.

In fact, 4 is no where to be found.. you are alone with him.

I will indulge your questions for a short time.

OOC: small detail- sorry if I didn't make it clear -he's actually talking to you (not in italics)

Yes, Incubus, you are an unusual find. His deep, booming voice rebervates throughout the room.

Disfavored Tan'ari are usually destroyed or imprisoned... my agents are in Baator attempting to piece together your story. Due to recent events, which you will be fully informed of later, your history may be of importance to me. For the time being, I shall take thee under my wing - in return for your life, you will commence an indentured servitude.

..Know that our interests are temporarily aligned - for your history is more important to you as it is to myself - aligning yourself with me is your only viable option

he says the last bit as if you have a choice in the matter, which you know you clearly do not. Intuition informs you that it'd be best to go along with him.

You know all that I know about how and where you were found, what other questions press you?

Whoops!!!, Edited above!!

OK- so from your observation and judgement, the corpses are very, very old - most of them are skeletons, and you have a feeling that the ones with meat still on them are preserved for asthetic, or perhaps other reasons. :oops:

I am Adjic' Ventir - Warrior and Necromancer - it is irrelevant of what you call me.

Yes, you are an Incubus - your rank otherwise and history are unknown. We are currently at my stronghold in the Outlands.

OOC: You don't remember specific, personal details, but you have good general planar knowledge - eg. you know what the Styx is (and about its amnesia- inducing properties), and you know what an Incubus is... I'm just doing that to spare us both the explanations..

You will find Informant Zakarius in Sigil and he will submit his report. The code-phrase you shall speak to him is: "Crash the Ring into the Spire." I am unaware of his wherabouts - and thus you shall use your wit and resourcefulness to seek him out. He will then inform you of how to return from Sigil back here - where you will report to me.

You have three days. - Before you leave, Number 4 will lead you to my armory, where you shall be availed with some of the fruits of my exploits to better equip yourself and ensure your survival.

For the time being, it would be wisest for you to remain in camouflage - inconspicuous to those around. Now go.

With a wave of his hefty hand, Number 4 reappears behind you, and beckons that you follow him.

OOC: Sense Motive: It is clear that there is something strange about this man's demeanor towards you. Not only is he not requiring you to call him 'master,' but he is now offering you arms, which you suspect are of a powerful nature. All for what? His apparent interest in you is unprecedented.

It's a pretty safe bet that 4 is unable (or perhaps, unwilling) to communicate verbally, and the reply is predictably, telepathic:

I have been serving Master ever since I was created. I am unaware of anyone else's history.

Comes his vague response. It is clear that he isn't one for non-business conversation - his mannerisms and conversation syntax are almost modronic.

He shortly leads you to a separate, smaller circular room filled with all sorts of wearable items. It appears that in addition to being a Necromancer, Master is probably a collector. Aside from neatly hung archaic engraved suits of armor that adorn every lateral inch of the circular chamber, there are weapons of many varieties and colors, staffs, rings, wands, and cloaks (though, notably, not any money or gems). Even without any liquid assets, it is apparent that this should rather be named a treasure room than an armory.

4 turns towards you:

You may pick and choose certain items that you'd like.
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4 limits you to 2 rings, 2 weapons, 1 suit of armor, and 2 miscellaneous magical items, and 1 random "odd" item that may catch your interest.

Items that may be of use:

Rings: (2)

Invisibility
Elemental Command (Air)
Blinking
Elemental Resistance (Acid)
Elemental Resistance (Electricity)
Protection +1

Weapons: (2)
+1 weapons of every variety
+2 longsword, shortsword, and quarterstaff
(see below in 'odd items of particular interest')

There are no light suits of armor that would suit you - but then again, you don't know if you're a caster or not, so it's up to you to take a suit of armor or not.
Armor: (1)
Full Plate +1
Half Plate +1

Miscellaneous Magical Items: (2)
Wand of Magic Missle
Belt of Giant Strength
Wand of Color Spray
Cloak of Resistance (+1)
Boots of Elvenkind

"Odd Items that catch your interest" (1)
A hollow glass/crystal locket with a red cricket inside.
An unmarked, apparently nonmagical dagger that radiates a feeling of cold and dread.
A Journal from which emnates magic.

OOC: You are wearing nothing but an unremarkable loincloth, whereas the rest of your body is exposed ---wings and all - you indeed do look like an incubus - specific appearance details are up to you. Adjic' Ventir warned you to stay disguised, so when you leave the stronghold, you know that it'd be wise to use your abilities to alter your form.

4 awkwardly hesitates after you ask the question about Necravia. Necravia is the fourth in command. (it's odd he says this, because if that was the case, why is HE named 4?) Obviously reserved on the subject, he adds as an afterthought, You would be wise not to pry into the subject any further.

He indifferently waits for you to select your items, and begins to explain the odd dagger:

Malevor Ozzidansamus was part Gnome, part Fiend. Centuries ago, he had a workshop on the 94th layer of the Abyss sponsored by a friend who was a Marilith general. He was a savant when it came to smiting, and spent most of his days designing and creating Tan'aari weapons for the footsoldiers of the Blood War. In addition he had many other items and trinkets from his experiments. After a century or so of successfully working for the Tan'aari, his workshop had become a gargantuan factory and was the defining feature of the 94th layer. The time came when the Marilith general decided that he had become too powerful for his own good. In his final moments of life, he was to give the Marilith a gift (this dagger). Little did he know that he was about to give much more than that. The Marilith happily accepted the dagger, and just as happily killed him in his quarters. All the while, her troops were seizing the factory for their own design.

It is lored that a part of Malevor's soul is inside the dagger, for shortly after the Marilith's murderous betrayal, she was found dead with the dagger lodged deep inside of her chest- apparently suicide; thought to be inspired by the vengeful soul inside the dagger. The lore is inconsistent, however, with current knowledge- for only weapons of a magical quality may harm a Marilith - and a mere dagger in the chest would not typically destroy a Tan'aari of that power. Number 9 conducts research on Masters items, and has yet to find magic, or a soul inside. It is clear that it is not a normal item, and you should tread carefully whilst carrying it.

The Journal is that of a Powerful Necromancer from the Prime Material Plane in Aber Toril. Master has availed himself of the knowledge within, and it is no further use to him.

The Locket has powerful magic, but the research team has been unable to identify the source or the function. The red insect inside claims to be a cursed, trapped, polymorphed Pit Fiend- but we haven't been able to confirm this. We haven't been able to open the crystal - it seems magically warded against such action.

The locket has a warm, pleasant feel to it. The cricket inside seems oblivious to your cooing.

"Very well, you should be on your way -" A portal from here will lead you to the Clerk's Ward, you will have to find your way back within three days.

Remember, you have to relay Zakarius's report back to Master...Are there any final questions?

Oops, sorry, edited above - the actual time is 3 days.

4 hesitates for another while before answering. I suggest you call yourself something common and unremarkable.. perhaps 39 or 91. You should also alter your appearance.

The advice about altering your appearance is good, but you'd probably want to think up a name for yourself.

While part of you expects him to reply with something like " a walking mannequin" he, gives a different, equally useless suggestion.

Perhaps something that isn't an incubus?

4 thinks, then tells to you to wait.

He leaves for a short while, and while he's gone, you swear you see a shadow moving along the walls to your periphery. As you look more closely, however, you see nothing else.

Surprisingly, 4 returns with the perfect set of clothes. An average looking dark-brown shirt, pants and shoes. He also gives you a pouch, and informs you that you can place anything inside.

OOC: Bag of Holding.

Number 9 - he wore the locket around his neck for more than a turn - and the cricket started talking to him telepathically.

OOC: a "turn" = 1 turn of the ring ~ 24 hours

4 quickly walks you near one of the suits of armor, makes a few gestures, and a portal swirls to life.
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Enter the Clerk's Ward.

It is very dark, probably near antipeak (or perhaps a little after). You find yourself on Crystal Dew lane of the Sandstone district. For all the order and cleanliness imposed by law upon the Clerk’s Ward, a blood wouldn’t commonly suspect that in the midst of it all, tucked away in all the order would be a community composed almost entirely of tieflings; and a respectable community at that. The Sandstone District is located between Crystal Dew lane, Founder’s Fence, and the edges of the Slags as they abut near the Clerk’s Ward. The name of the district is derived from the red sandstone paving stones used to line the streets of the district. The tieflings, many of them sick of their reputations, have holed up here among themselves and largely ignore the rest of the ward.

You are very close to what was once the Hall of Records. From your knowledge of planar history, you recall that what existed once as a private university within Sigil known as Bigby’s College of Academic Arts and was subsequently repossessed by the Fated, now exists as only a pile of rubble atop the cluster of hills it once occupied before the Faction War. Shortly after the war ended and the Fated fled Sigil for their old faction headquarters upon Ysgard, the building and all the vast number of public records, including debt notices, were ransacked by the curious, the greedy, and those seeking to erase their very existence in the records of the purse pickers of Sigil. Nothing remained sacrosanct, and from the vaults of records to the very furniture, the entire building was looted clean.

Years of tunneling beneath the buildings to build secret vaults in which to store the supposedly public records, as well as ex-Factol Rowan Darkwood’s reams of research into Sigil’s past history, left the ground under the entire complex weakened and under the constant threat of collapse. Faced with the danger to the surrounding blocks in the ward, the entire edifice was picked clean of any remaining records or usable goods, and the building was torn to the ground and many of the tunnels purposefully collapsed. Undisclosed parties have since purchased the site, and to date it has yet to be developed, remaining a jumble of brick and marble surrounded by the wooded campus that originally surrounded the Hall.

Although you see moving silhouettes in the buildings around, no one seems to be on the streets at this time, and an eerie calm descends upon you.

You soon realize that you're not alone. As you back into an alley, a very, very strong hand covers your mouth from behind, stifling your yelp, and preventing you from moving. A harsh, female voice speaks into your ear.

Who are ye, and what're ye doin here around here at this time? Tell me quickly, and don't be bally, or ye'll be hittin' the blinders faster than ye can spit!

WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?

She doesn't raise her voice, but whisper-screams... the shock has settled in, and you finally notice that a knife is pointing towards your neck.

Sensing your helplessness, she turns you around, and looks into your eyes. You notice, that she's slightly taken aback (probably at how good you look )
She could be either a tiefling or a second/third generation fire genasi. Bright red/orange hair, amber eyes, fiery clothing, and a temperament to match.

Don't ye think me a softhead!! I'll ask ye again, what are ye up to?

Her voice this time is calmer.. though that could mean more danger for you.

Anyone who wanders these parts at night is either a bad blood, genna get the laugh, or be fiend food! Don't ye play clueless with me. Aye, this is my turf, and I do the askin'!

It would normally be hard to believe such a thing from one with as slender a frame as hers, but you know firsthand that she is unnaturally strong, and her claim about this being her turf may actually be legitimate.