Soul Sacrifice

The Imperfect watches. Waits.

It isn't a patient sort of waiting, of course; in fact, it's very visibly impatient, though you'd have to know the ascendant to understand that much in the first place. His figure writhed with inactivity, his skin literally crawling with potent energy that, in his mind, was utterly wasted in this lack of expression. But all the same, there was no easy outlet for all of it, was there? Everything was boring, nothing happened, and with recent times, war wasn't plausible at all either. There was no way for the Imperfect to break free of his own prison of hateful boredom, to be sure, and-- well, frankly, if a statue could look angry, Dumuzid certainly matched that visual.

"Your Nethradin do good work."

He spoke of Mammon entirely, of course, as the others had not shown themselves since Gorandis' summoning of each of them - however, in the case of Mammon alone..? They did do good work, truthfully. They performed their duties obediently. They acted as instructed. Soldiers, to be sure, despite Dumuzid's lack of enslavement to hold over their heads. "Someone questioned the Loranthian regime earlier, and Mammon leapt on the opportunity to torture and even kill. Perhaps a bit bloodthirsty for my liking, but nonetheless resourceful."

"From what realm do they originate?"
(Dumuzid Balaraq)

"The Nethradin do what they're told. It's their entire purpose in this world, it's all they know and it is all I will let them know. They are not slaves, they think and act on their own, but they respond to my threats to do as they are told. They can talk back, they can disobey and they can betray... and I wouldn't have it any other way. Those that do no think for themselves are the worst..."

"They come from Helheim in the spirit realm. The frozen land of the dead. They hunt the other wayward spirits and they serve as the gatekeepers of sorts. Brutal guardsmen that do little more than bully half the time. And so they make adequate warriors. I hope to improve them... and in time I hope to teach others the way of bringing more Nethradin to us..."

"Creatures from beyond this world that will follow your commands and yet will not be afraid to tell you when you are wrong... Better than most of the cattle we had around here when I last worked with you. And, before there are any misconceptions. I do not work for you Dumuzid. I never have and I never will. Our goals align and so we are allies in this war..."

For a brief moment he glared at the imperfect before leaning upon the ramparts. "Though with our current numbers it will hardly be much of a war... I have sent out the call for others to join but... I don't expect much to turn up."
(Gorandis)

Dumuzid shrugs.

"If you deserted," the Imperfect replied, "There would probably be a line at the Sarab." He frowned distinctly, though the rest of his statuesque figure was relatively maintained. His visage was all that moved, his arms and legs a solid entity against the chilled upper atmosphere of Loranthis - storms raged absently around him, furiously buffeting the entirety of the Wychwood and whatever else that'd dare to make itself present within the forested city. "I have constructed great forges for the purpose of halting defection as it has happened so en-masse, but."

Finally, the ascendant Yokai's arm moves, though it does so only for a moment-- a hand raised and a collection of vials summoned forth.

Two of them are disgusting - decayed, to be sure, and visibly corrupted, while the two others remain rather pure, if anything in Loranthis could be as such.

"Four vials," Dumuzid uttered aloud. Each was forged from some sort of artificial obsidian-glass, shining with a gleam of darkness that resonated intensely with the Imperfect's own-- it was easy enough to assume where it had come from, though the blood within each was likely a different story. "The Blood of a Wraith, a Soldier, a Vampire, and a Desperate Man, and yet one has proved ineffective." They are fiddled with absently. It wasn't - a worthless vial, sure. But it still held a sign of worthlessness with Macheath's betrayal and desertion, and as Dumuzid looked upon them, the hand was waved over them once more.

The vials were cast into whatever abysm the Imperfect had drawn them from in the first place-- in their place, a reddish-black crystal jewel that heaved with enough depravity to rival even Nyctorre, perhaps.

"Onyx Nazarite," Dumuzid uttered aloud. "Sinstone. While I considered losing the blood of Macheath McElroy and suggesting a replacement of your own, this jewel allows for broader horizons-- and, truth be told, the blood is no less useful. Merely a symbolism to discard it."

"How would you like to help me with a project of mine, Wrath?"
(Dumuzid Balaraq)

"Hah, Onyx Nazarite. Such a thing got me into trouble with Nostvale in the first place. Taking a piece from some wandering Ookami... who now seems to be the Marshal of Nostvale such is the shithole the east has become." A sigh parted his lips once more as he continued to rest upon the battlements though he did show at least some respect.

"Blood and Sinstones... Well, I suppose I could help you with both. However, it is not through charity I intend to do this and I do wish for payment. And if you do something silly like promising me whatever the final product in then you clearly lack any sort of intelligence... I intend to be paid for my work immediately. However, I can also act immediately."

"It is a simple thing to infuse the sinstone, I can infuse people after all... a service I offered to Lorelei that she never claimed. And my blood is of no symbolism to myself, take it. It might even outshine the vampire's in terms of its abilities. It is, after all infused with more than just my own sin, it contains shards of whomever I have killed and claimed..."

"And yes, your Macheath never came to see me in New Alteros. Even though doing so would have likely ruined me and got me jailed yet again. Or at least, they would have tried to do so. I'm not an easy rat to corner." Another sigh came before he stood back up to his full height. "If you are willing to pay me, just ask what you want of me."
(Gorandis)

The Black Nazarite is held in a firm grip, the terms of their 'trade' established overtop of the uncharged Sinstone.

"I had already intended to promise you - as well as the others - a piece of the final product, aid or not," Dumuzid uttered in due reply. Of course, he also intended for adjustments made to pay for themselves, power for control-- but as far as he was concerned, there was merit in that promise. Presuming, obviously, that Nostvale didn't steamroll through the forested city in the meantime and obliterate what progress had been made toward said product. "Consider this a repayment for your services, as well as Lorelei, Osred, and Daen's services, to my regime. Something of a gift, if you are so inclined."

Again, it wasn't entirely false-- the Imperfect had long since realized that boosting himself alone yielded few results. Merlyn had forced that concept into his mind.

Though, to be fair, Dumuzid had the wrong idea altogether.

"Here." He pauses, and once again is that strange rift opened up.. a window into the treasure troves of Loranthis. Despite their rather grave situation presently, Lorelei and Dumuzid still wielded a ridiculous number of magical artifacts. Whatever the case, it wasn't hardly Rift Magic, and one would be able to surely say it related to the lightning magic of the Imperfect - the static-lined border a visualization of some sort of minor-distance teleportation. From its bounds, the amulet Soul Sacrifice appears: a relic of the long-since-passed Calliope Kastra. "This amulet was claimed from the fallen Pale Queen of Loranthis," Dumuzid pronounced. "Consider it less a full payment and more-so something to tide you over until the end result, yes?"

Both the Sinstone and Soul Sacrifice are proffered forth to the Sin.

"I intend to bolster what forces remain. Many have defected, but our strongest have only grown stronger. The loyal remain. I hope to exacerbate upon that fact."
(Dumuzid Balaraq)

The amulet was grabbed first and examined. He could feel the energies from it, it contained lives within it, ones tat were now trapped in a prison of their own making. Perhaps the spirits had intended to help the original wearer, but now they were twisted beyond that... Gorandis could have uses for it in the future, or he could just toss it at one of his Nethradin.

"A fairly tame relic... Hardly powerful compared to some of the other things I have seen yourself and Lorelei tote around... In some cases I would even say it is fairly insulting." His lips formed into a tight frown as he stared at the Nazarite next. "And as I have already said, telling me to wait for the final result is a silly thing to do. Because by doing this I already was entitled to the final product."

"And do not worry, I do consider this to be less than a full payment." Still, he grabbed at the Nazarite stone and held it into the air. It felt empty in his hand... but that was easily changed. Red mists surrounded him and began to gather across his arm, swirling upwards before seeming to pour endlessly into the sinstone. A sinstone that soon began to take on the hues of the magic around it.

Though not quite. The red mists began to pulse just within the black surface of the Nazarite and giving the stone a warm and almost itchy feeling to it. However, Gorandis did not pass it back to the imperfect just yet. "So what would be the full payment?"
(Gorandis)

"My apologies for the lackluster material promise. Inquire over the Athame of Merlyn to Lorelei once she is back around - while that artifact is not mine to give, you might find it intriguing nonetheless."

It isn't wrought forth in the same manner that Soul Sacrifice had been. It's indeed a rare day when the Imperfect respects another's faith in a given entity, but - well, apparently today was one such time. Merlyn was a.. touchy.. subject with the Malpercian. Utilizing the athame for its intended purpose of slicing through otherwise-invulnerable Arcanium had even managed to set her off. While normally a boisterous and brash individual, Dumuzid had few desires to lose his next-highest-ranking soldier to the whims of a relatively pointless dagger. "The 'full payment' will be a ring.. or rather a set of rings divided."

Balaraq is heaved upward next, though with even less visible weight to it than the amulet handed to Gorandis-- some strange magic allows the Imperfect to heft 'himself' upward without much issue, and the levitated greatsword seems to further reinforce that fact with every passing moment.

"Four shards of my shattered Balaraq," Dumuzid furthered, allowing Gorandis to perhaps gaze upon what he spoke of. The entire bottom portion of the blade had been split very obviously-- and, conveniently enough, into four primary pieces. Of course, the cracks ran along all of the blade and there was a practical dust cloud of Balaraq's particles that hovered around its edge, but beyond that was there still those individually prominent four. The devouring of Selvia had seen to the mending of the mana-leakage, Balaraq.. well, damaged very obviously, but better than it had been before. "Layered in Arcanium, then Teardrop Tyrium-- imbued with one of another four gemstones."

"One of which is the Onyx Nazarite you now hold, for the Ring of War. Four Horsemen, one for each of my highest soldiers."
(Dumuzid Balaraq)

"You still seem to misunderstand the concept of all of this paying stuff but I do not have the patience to argue..." He sighed and added in a much lower and yet still fully audible voice. "Trust a yokai to not understand material things..." He shook his head and let his eyes settle upon the blade as it was raised before him. The damage certainly was extensive.

"A ring of war, eh? Well, perhaps a wrathful Onyx Nazarite is too... simple for it. But, the other material I have in mind I have other plans for... Though I do have some things I may be able to spare to your project and to the other members should they need it... The spirits of fallen warriors, kept in stasis and in tortuous agony, just in case I have need for them."

"Perhaps they can find use in this project of yours. But, I do have to ask, for you to be handing these rings out, you must have a catch for them, do you not? Because what would stop me from turning your ring against you once I had it? I am a very difficult man to control." As if to undermine his own point, the enchanted gem was dropped into the imperfect's hand.

"Still, if you need some help with the enchanting, my own talents extend to beyond just summoning."
(Gorandis)

The gem is levitated back, and it disappears with the same 'zip' and flash of lightning that it had arrived with.

"Yokai have telepathic capabilities much unlike anything another magic provides," Dumuzid replied. It was strange to admit the caveat of his designated rings to the likes of Gorandis - to the likes of one who was going to likely be wearing one, that is. "Imperfect Yokai are renown even more-so for their exceptional psionic powers, as I can confirm." He pauses to wave a hand across the entirety of Loranthis, which, as evidenced by the roving crowds of Yokai and Occultists, is very much within his bounds of influence. "With these rings and with these materials, I intend to repair and modify my Kaor Blade-- "

Dumuzid delays for yet another moment, absently observing an unseen collection or hoard of enchanted materials and blood and all sorts of strange artifacts.

"Should all go to plan, the bearers of these four rings will be bound by my telepathic will such that defecting is impossible," the Imperfect furthered, nodding briefly. "Given that they will wield a piece of my Kaor Blade, they will be unable to raise a hand against me - and so too will I be unable to bring a hand against them. A mutual respect, perhaps. A contract soaked in my mental blood." It wasn't a lie. Dumuzid wasn't one to lie. Hell, he hadn't really even left out anything - his plans for the rings were on the table for Gorandis to observe if so desired. "In return for serving as my eternal soldiers, each bearer will be granted the fullest of my powers."

"And perhaps I will. Once I cut the Arcanium, it will indeed require enchanting to be fitted with Teardrop Tyrium - the latter material does not play so well with others, normally."
(Dumuzid Balaraq)

"You really do think your telepathic powers could match my own mind? You are... quite mistaken. I do not know the extent of you abilities but I do know the extent of my sin. And your will is nothing compared to it. It cannot be reasoned with, it cannot be quelled, you can do nothing to prevent it. If the true desire of my sin is to harm you I am afraid that there is little your ring would be able to do to stop it."

Or at least, that's what was believed. It wasn't easy to know how sin and an imperfect's will would clash. Perhaps they would annihilate one another, perhaps one would win, perhaps neither would. But it would certainly be interesting to find out... "And I don't see how them wielding a piece of your Kaor blade would stop them. If anything it would facilitate them."

"Having something of yours to injure on demand..." He moved back to leaning on the battlements and simply stared out over the city for a long time. "...With my mind how it is, I cannot say I can be loyal to you, or even loyal to your ideals... I cannot even be loyal to my own ideals half the time. Perhaps I could accept this ring of war in the future..."

"But it will likely not end well for either of us."
(Gorandis)

Dumuzid Balaraq: It never does, my compatriot.
Dumuzid Balaraq: But it must be done anyways. I will have no further deserters on my side.
Gorandis: There have been some happy endings on my part.
Dumuzid Balaraq: I do not get happy endings.
Dumuzid Balaraq: Kraus does not allow Yokai such things, unfortunately.
Gorandis: Hah, as if Kraus had any foresight when he was setting things up.
Gorandis: He does not dabble now.
Gorandis: And he is easily defied.
Gorandis: Just look at my Nethradin.
Gorandis: Creatures from another plane.
Gorandis: Dragged into this.
Gorandis: Defying his vision for the world.
Dumuzid Balaraq: I have battled against gods long enough to know that they operate in strange ways, Wrath.
Gorandis: They and their minions are just as easily killed and captured.
Gorandis: You can ask the Archbishop about that.
Dumuzid Balaraq: Nerebia was small fish. Others walk among us. Not all are the size of continents, as I have unfortunately learned.
Dumuzid Balaraq: Some are more like islands.
Gorandis: Anyway, enough talk of the inevitable... <*He weighs the pendant in his hand.*>: I'll have to go and find a use for this.
Dumuzid Balaraq: Very well.
Dumuzid Balaraq: I will speak with you again soon, Sin.
Dumuzid Balaraq: Walk as you will.
Gorandis: I do have a name you know, Dumuzid.
Dumuzid Balaraq: It is less dramatic to use names.
Gorandis: Yes but there are times where I like to dwell in my own humanity.
Dumuzid Balaraq: I have none to dwell within.