Theophilius & Sons [To Reign In Hell]

Grey

Grey

Dialectical Hermeticist
@TentacleTherapist


Most Demons don't procreate. Some do, especially Lust, but for the most part Demons spread by methods equal parts ritual and industry.


This serves, generally, to give the looming shape of Theophilius & Sons an ominous reputation; What happened to the sons?





Sloth melts away from the facade of the building, and the slugcountants scurry into their hiding places in a flurry of balance sheets. A bell tolls, somewhere, and the few employees exit their panic rooms to resume filing.


The esteemed owner, wherever he may be, is due for an appointment soon - a little-known Prideful named Marchosias has requested a meeting to negotiate certain debts.

Feel free to have some fun with the appearance and inhabitants of your county here.
 
Theophilus bursts forth from the safety of his quarters, the dark wood door slamming into the wall. A new day, new contracts, new opportunities, new... suckers. His mood is immediately soured by a tiny, slimy, fez crushed underfoot. The few 'regular' workers stare at him only long enough to realize they are starting and get back to work. With a sigh, Theophilus lifts his foot, scrapes off the offending object, sniffs it, and then looks inside the tiny hat for a moment.


A short few stomping steps later and he find himself at the desk of his secretary and most trusted employee. He drops the fez onto her desk with a wet flop, and retrieves a handkerchief to wipe off his hand. "Dolores, would you be a dear and amend the contract for slugcountant number... forty-one? Reduce his pay and living-quarters by a grade for littering, and a grade for unsolicited copulation. I am also expecting one Marchosias of Pride for a meeting very shortly. Please direct him to office number three in the Pride exhibit."


Normally Theophilus would schedule meetings in more neutral areas of his domain, but it was always good to give customers something familiar when they needed it. It was only a short walk to the office in question, where the Pride exhibit was furthest from Wrath and closest to Sloth. It is here that Pride mixes with neighboring Sloth, gleaming polished suits of armor sit, regally, slowly caking with the dust of abandonment. Thin wires of gold snake out, framing surfaces like plants crawling on the wall.


This room in particular has a great domed ceiling above a gilded orrery. In a nook near the colossal structure is a set of chairs and a large mahogany table, set for drinking fine wines with goblets of silver. The feeling of contentment is especially strong, with Pride giving way to complacence here. Of course this room was, once upon a time, much like the others in the main offices. It has slowly warped to accommodate the bits of pride stored in this section of the museum.


Theophilus absentmindedly fiddles with a pocket-watch as he waits.
 
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You see the light first, of course. The fittings of the room catch and reflect the golden rays as Marchosias approaches.


Not what you were expected - definitely a Citizen of the Demon City, tall and broad, but oddly unadorned. In the form of a perfect, golden-skinned mortal with dark hair and eyes, muscular and broad to fit his eight feet of height.


No weapon. That's the oddity. You've rarely seen a Pride Demon this naked.


He offers a stiff bow.


"Theophilius." He says, by way of greeting. The bare minimum that etiquette demands.
 
The room itself seems to pulse in sympathy with Marchosias, like amplifying like. More interesting, though, are the changes that come about due to his presence. Gold and silver seem to tarnish at their edges, not the result of disuse, but from constant use. The room has, since Marchosias' arrival, ceased to merely be an ostentatious study, and has instead become something of a well-used war room. If the change bother Theophilus, he doesn't let it show.


He comes willingly into my territory with no pretence of pride in anything but himself. We are here to deal peaceably, but to be so willing and irreverant is... unusual. Is it confidence that he is showing? Or is he trying to mask his uncertainty? No matter, it is best not to offend his sensibilities.


"Marchosias, Shadow of War, I welcome you to my domain." The greeting is accompanied by a half-kneel. A little preening for his ego. "Come, sit, drink, and let us discuss. Do not worry, for the wine is merely a shadow and has no power that we do not will it to have." Theophilus cracks a smile that shows a row of teeth like pearls. "Tell me what you want to be rid of, or what you want to obtain, if it is within my power, I will see to it that you are accommodated."
 
He deigns to sit, but declines the wine.


"I am burdened with regret, Con Man. It is unbecoming of me." He says, gaze fixed on you. No preamble, no pretense. "I would have it removed."
 
Not uncertainty, but disgust then. Disgust with himself at a perceived weakness. The problem is the price...


"Regret is... problematic. Many have it, and all but a select few wish to be rid of it. It is like poison, a hazardous substance that seeks only to drag down and hold back. It can be wielded, of course, but the dangers far outweigh the benefits. It is particularly value-less, and I refuse to store it here." The cold, hard truth.


"I can only assume that you would not be amenable to losing a more valuable part of yourself, and so we are left with a payment of material wealth, or the promise of services or tasks to be completed. Do you have any offers? Or shall I valuate the deal myself?"
 
"Wealth, then. Wealth or deeds, ask. I would tear down my Circle to be rid of this," he replies, a note of desperation creeping into his powerful voice. "I am chained, and it is abhorrent."
 
"That is positively seditious, beautiful in its own way, yes, I can work with that." Theophilus thinks to himself briefly.


"I shall remove your regret, and it shall become a weapon. You will wield it until it expends itself, imparting your regret on those whom you wound, and while you still wield it, you shall work against your Circle for your own glory. If you don't use it in this manner, it will remain with you for as long as you exist. This is as generous as I can be in this situation, you must understand, and it is a great generosity to only be bound in such a tangential manner."


Theophilus extends his hand. "Unless you prefer we seal it in blood, but in those circumstances you might stand to lose more of yourself by accident."
 
His fists clench, brows furrow, the chair falls as he stands.


"To carry it with me?! As if that could be a reasonable trade, as if I had not asked for its removal!"


The edges of weapons around the room gleam and sharpen behind their glass.


"As if..."


He slows, quiets. He stands more thoughtfully than taut with violence.


"But to tear them down so... with my curse... Very well. Can it be done now?" He says, reaching for your hand.
 
Their hands meet in a firm handshake, the deal struck. "As long as you abide by this compact, your regret shall not trouble you with more than its existence. Yes, I shall begin immediately, it will take naught but a moment."


Theophilus breaks the handshake and slips himself around the table and close to Marchosias. One hand goes to his shoulder, and the other to his gut. When Theophilus' left hand reaches the muscles of Marchosias' stomach, it continues onward with no resistance. His arm sinks deep, to the elbow, roots around inside for a moment, and as it pulls out, reveals a link of tarnished chain.


The pulling continues until the object is entirely removed, a chain like an overly-long choke collar, almost four feet in length, one side covered in vicious spikes. Theophilus carefully folds the chain up, taking care not to injure himself on the pitted and scarred spikes. He hands it over ceremoniously. "As you wield it for its purpose, the links will break off one-by-one. When the last link is broken, you shall be free of your regret. I advise against using other means to destroy it, the results would be... undesirable for you."
 
He takes the chain. Stares for a long moment. Unfazed by the procedure - but then, Pride Demons are as likely to acknowledge a grievous wound as Wrathful.


"Be sure to hide in whatever bunker you have prepared, Theophilus. The True Light has shown me the way, and there will come a rain of fire such as Hell has never seen." He says, and walks from the room.


One of the underclerks emerges from a corner and offers you a grubby report - The Emerald Storm has blown out of Pandemonium and is ravaging the countryside in this general direction. Your liege, the Earl Carradine, has called a meeting within three days. One of your peers, Captain Zaelus, is allegedly due to be replace


Until another appointment is made, it looks like the day is free for your own plans.
 
A demotion, eh? And a meeting of Carradine's Counts? There are possibilities there, seams that might be slipped through. I must do research, and prepare for this meeting.


Theophilus adjusts his tie, speaks to the now empty room "Quite", then makes his way to the front of the building. "Dolores, delay all meetings until three days hence, that are not with a Count or better. I shall be busy with minutiae and house calls, and wish not to be disturbed for minor dealings. Use your discretion of course."


He had been so busy establishing himself, that Theophilus hadn't been keeping up with his peers and superiors. Even if he couldn't make something interesting happen at this meeting, he could surely use this as a catalyst to put down groundwork for the future... yes, that would be just as fine.


First, a more comprehensive look at Earl Carradine, his history with his subjects, his enemies, his allies, and his goals.


Second, a thorough analysis of one Captain Zaelus, why he has lost favor with Carradine, and how he might be made to keep his position under different... loyalties.


Third, a look at the other Counts under Carradine with an eye for those unhappy with him, or powerful enough to make plays against him.
 
It wasn't terribly hard to gather the information up, all things considered. Theophilus & Sons has a number of records rooms detailing previous dealings and 'incidents', that proved useful in deducing longterm plans, but proved to be far too out of date to help with current events. The current status of Theophilus' peers and liege needed to be assembled from rumors, information brokers, and from bribing of key personnel and free agents. Nothing of particular value was spent, but time constraints kept Theophilus from the most scathing of secrets, and the meeting with Earl Carradine looms.


"Dolores, when the last runner comes in, collate all the findings and bring them to my study. Time is of the essence, but the search has left me weary and there's no sense plotting while distracted."
 
Carradine himself is under pressure from his own master, it turns out. She was Carradine's lover, assassinated the previous Baron... and then left Carradine where he is. Looks like she might be trying to cut loose ends.


Carradine is a slave trader of a rare sort, able to bind Demons foolish enough to drink from his chalice into servitude. His Domain is the icebound and rotting city in which your offices stand.


Of your peers, Zaelus is the most militarily powerful and obsessed with hunting his rival, the Wrathful Count Zone.


Beldril is the wealthiest, controlling the port at the edge of the domain and engaging in piracy to stuff his coffers further.


Helghan is Carradine's eccentric spymaster, operating from a floating fortress high above.


Vessigor is in an odd position - she's got hordes of warriors, but they're undisciplined and rowdy. he has wealth, but can't keep it for long. She has connections and spies, but her informants are prone to lies, confusion, and distraction.


Berophos controls travel in the region. It can take days to cross the city by other means, but Berophos can get you there in an hour over the Bleak Mile. For a price. Gives him plenty of information on top of the money.


Hecra is the one you had thought most likely to be deposed, before. She's seemingly lacking ambition or power, based in an arboretum near the heart of the domain. She quietly produces goods for export - liquors, the eerie wood of her trees, perfumes. The again, her Estate is within sight of Carradine's lair. Could be up to something with more subtlety than many of your peers.


Iren is one of those Demons whose overt magics are potent and refined, and therefore serves as architect to Carradine. Iren maintains, builds, renovates, and demolishes within the domain. Has a reputation for rigging traps into everything to keep the Rabble on their toes.

Just name someone you want to know more about and I'll answer any questions/add more details.
 
Yes, yes, I remember now. Carradine's position is tenuous at best. If I were to make it a straight up war... Iren, Hecra, and Helghan will probably side with him; Zaelus is too focused to join either side, Beldril, Berephos, and I hold the most economic clout in that order, and Vessigor is a powder-keg waiting to blow up on all of us. But there's no need to make war, and no need to win suddenly...


A trade union, that sounds nice. If I can convince Beldril and Berephos to work together, we could put a stranglehold on trade to the city... If we can get exclusive use of the Bleak Mile for trade purposes, we can choke out all the other competitors and put pressure on Carradine. Once we buy the city out from under Carradine, I can 'convince' Vessigor's subjects to revolt, and our trade union can beat Carradine to the punch in quashing the rebellion. With Carradine already on thin ice, that should get him thrown out immediately, and then there will be a wonderful little power-vacuum.


Yes, I'll use this meeting to form an alliance and draw the noose around Carradine's neck.
 
In the interim, the Emerald Storm rages across the city. It's not even over when Iren sends you an invoice for repairs. The entire Spireward facade of your building is a mess, and there's a clerk impaled on a shard of emerald in one of the upper offices. At least that might pay for repairs without digging too deeply into your coffers.


The Storm is followed by Dreamfall, and then a riot in one of Vessigor's tenements. The meeting is delayed while the Rabble are brought in line.


Then the day comes for the trip to Carradine's lair.
 
It is strange to call it such, but the Emerald Storm gave Theophilus a brief reprieve to let the high of his plan drain away. It does no good to rush into such a long term investment, and it pays to take time to think about how a plan can go wrong, instead of just how well it could go right. To that effect, it is best not to arrive to such a meeting with no metaphorical backing, even though that is Theophilus' style.


It was time to bring out the big guns. Or, in this case, clothing.


The strongest piece of Pride in his collection, this was a cloak made of superiority. Some might call it haughty, or even pompous, but it is well and truly the aspect that makes serfs look up to their kings, or soldiers to their general. Wearing it to the meeting would be an act of social war, the kind of war fought through back-room bribery and political manipulation. The kind of war that Theophilus could win by drawing the lines of engagement correctly.


He made haste to the meeting.
 
The council room in Carradine's great glass pyramid sits high near the apex, looking out over the Domain.


Every seat is filled but that of Zaelus and Carradine himself - though the Chalice sits on a pedestal in the centre of the circular chamber.


Hecra greets you warmly as she is able, with a wave and smile like a corridor of icicles. Vessigor snorts in your general direction.


"Welcome, esteemed peer," Helghan oozes, probes clicking and whirring from his blue carapace.


"Yes, yes." Iren chimes in. "Theophilius, I understand you retrieved a piece of the Storm recently. I would like to purchase it from you."


"It belongs to the Master," Helghan says, optics whirring and rotating to Iren. "Surely loyal Con-Man will offer it to the Master for proper redistribution."
 
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