Scene #6642: *Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears-3

Owner	Pose
Bloody Revelations	After George somehow managed to, of course, insinuate himself into the graces of some kind of cult leader, who, also of course, happened to be the fat, lazy, tinpot king of the seemingly completely irrelevant highlands goat herding 'kingdom' of Gradafes, excuses for Lezard ripping the soul out of a (1) townsfolk are made, and the whole group is bid stick around until nightfall, with the first thing approaching any kind of interest, intensity, or passion, from this entire, freakishly sleepy little backwards nowhere. They're told to stick around until the sun sets, because going through the basement of the fancied up old wooden keep-refurbished-palace, takes them through a shadowland so small and discreet that it'd be easily missed that one had ever passed through it, solely limited to a single room in the basement, raising the question of how it'd gotten there in the first place. It's a slightly ridiculous-feeling trip down the stairs, into a room, circling back around, and going back up the stairs again, fit for the ridiculous mundanity of this ludicrous little "only single piece of territory the Lover supposedly has in Creation". It does what shadowlands do though. They end up exiting into the cold, sterile, bleak and oppressive night of the Underworld. They now look upon a Gradafes built of petrified, ashen grey logs, on sharp crags of bleached stone, where translucent, plasmic goats mimic grazing on patches of coal grass, and ghosts- oh god it's exactly the same it's so fucking boooriiiiiiing. Even here, the fat, waddling, yet now purposeful, king takes them to another king. Specifically, the king of this Gradafes of the Underworld, very carefully specified to be 'Dead Gradafes', in a very creative turn of events. Though it appears to be unusual, as ghostly guards part before him with some small measure of dim surprise, he at least gets everyone the fast pass to this particular mirror throne room, and finds a dead man who seems younger than him, albeit blue in the lips, seated in it (next to an empty queen's chair, of course, symbolizing the Lover's sway over both royals). "Grandfather." says Graf-Chani to the younger man. "Grandson." says the younger man to Graf-Chani. "Who are these?" he asks. "I don't know." the living one answers, "but I think it might be the Time. To open the Door to the Other Place." he adds cryptically. The dead one looks very surprised, and then to the entourage with intense interest. "State your business here, then." he prompts.
Midway	Amidst the retinue of visitors is a figure in a floor-length, body-concealing cloak. They keep the hood up and over their face. It's every bit as suspicious as it could possibly be. Unresponsive when addressed, dismissive of attempts at contact. The only remarkable trait is this person's above average height and a red shine from the depths of that cavernous hood. This ends with the transition to the Underworld. The figure pauses, lifting a hand and extending it beyond those whimsically oversized sleeves-- Ghastly white skin, the backs of the knuckles covered in a skeletal black metallic brace that covers the ends of those fingers in wicked talons. These fingers are curled, then spread out. Seemingly satisfied, this one hand is lowered while the face lifts. Black spines protrude when she does this, curving out and upward from the hood's interior, reflecting light from crimson eyes glowing with carefully restrained internal fury. "My business here pertains to what I can do for you," That hand is raised again, palm up, fingers spread, "And what you offer in return."
Haguro	Multiple kings. Who would've guessed it? Haguro had some idea, at least, when the king mentioned higher ups the last time, but she didn't think the next one up would be so... Dead. The Underworld in general has the Cruiser on edge, but it doesn't stop her from trying to be at least a little polite. She bows lightly at the waist in greeting as she looks over the two quickly, keeping her turrets on standby and folded down so as to try presenting a relatively low threat for the time being. Could that change later? Yes. For now, though, she'll try to be a little more diplomatic than before. "King. Other King...?" She pauses when she hears the talk of the radio, then coughs lightly into her hand, suddenly trying to feign indifference while gesturing between the two and eventually settling on the blue-er one! "Yes. We'll need whatever new information you've gathered about..." A pause for dramatic effect. "The other place. Descending by date, if you pl-" Her composure cracks as she notices Midway approaching, and the Cruiser abruptly goes quiet as she steps back slowly. Her turrets remain where they are, but there's a clear discomfort in her movements while she keeps her hands crossed over each other in front of her. It takes her a good bit, but eventually she turns back to the kings. "... Two copies, if you can."
Staren	Ah, at last: The secret of the Perfectly Ordinary Boring Town! Behind the veil lies... ...A perfectly ordinary boring town but with ghosts. Staren wonders if Inga would like a plasmic goat. A goast, perhaps. Staren's not sure what to say to the king. This kind of improvization seems more like George's area of expertise than his. He wonders if George will say just the thing to get them escorted to the next layer of boring town in the heretofore-unseen UnderUnderworld. He gives George a chance to talk first, and tries to look like imposing muscle in the meantime. 5'8" of not particularly hulking muscle, but hey, he's wearing full plate armor and traveling with these folks so there must be more to him, right?
Starbound Flotilla	George does what George does. He jumps, lands his ass in an advantageous position that's still in trouble, and surges forward. He's kept the clipboard as well, just so he can dramatically flip papers. "Ahem. As usual, broadly we seek the final death, the true oblivion beyond the cycles, the final rest of the unrested and the last gasp of the ever-gasping. Glory unto the end of all, so on and so forth." He makes it sound very official. He scribbles something. It is a doodle of a happy Azure Armature shooting stick figures, but he gets to look like he's officially noting something. "We think it's getting close. We're here about Lover's personal issue -- you know, her... advantage on the other Deathlords? She's getting everything ready to go. You've heard, right? Gotta make sure it starts off on the right foot." He lets the general flutter of conversation work as it does, and rides it like a wave, trying to move with the flow of what the others are saying and what the dead-king will reply, because the varied focus should prevent them from getting too much incredulity for not being supposed to be here!
Bloody Revelations	The dead king leans forward in his ivory horn chair. It creaks plaintively. "It isn't the place of the Aolan Graf family to know what you have to offer, nor is it our place to know where the Other Place is, or when it will be opened. Those things are known only by Sacheverell, He Who Sees the Shape of Things to Come." he pronounces in a tone that is definitely, definitely all about the subject of the cult that George has Georged his way into. "We only know when the time arrives, and when it does, that two sons of Aolan, one living and one dead, are fated to open the door between Creation and the Underworld together, and find a path to the Third Place." he repeats as rote, not even as if he had memorized it, but as if he had simply always known it, from some age too young to remember. Graf-Chani picks up, sounding a little bit remorseful. The Lover . . . she has been a wonderful mistress to the kingdom of Gradafes, both living and dead, for sixteen generations now, but if Opening the Door means that she disappear as well, then that's just the will of Sacheverell. He Who Sees the Shape of Things to Come is first in all things. That's how it is." "I don't really know whatever you're up to, but it doesn't matter. We can both sense it about you. The fact that you're fated to find the Third Place, just like we're fated to open the Gates. If it's the Lover Clad in the Rainment of Tears that . . . is innnvolved with it, somehow, then I will assume you know what to do." Graf the elder says, in a kind of 'don't know don't want to know' way. "I don't know much about any other Deathlord. The others are supposedly wicked and vengeful, and would see great misery visited upon our people. The Lover keeps them at bay. I suppose she would have some kind of advantage, if that's the case. Other than the Tear Eater tribes beneath her, mighty as they are. I recall that she gave some sort of gift or another to Lookshy. And that . . . hmm, no. Actually I don't know much about her property either. I think she just has a little bit of this and that everywhere." The younger Graf snaps his pudgy fingers and goes "The mirror!" "Right, yes, the mirror, of course!"
Midway	The Princess of Progress emits a thoughtful noise. Those crimson eyes narrow slightly. Prophetic, flowery speech that dances around the questions being asked and requests being made. Her posture shifts, just enough to settle a glance upon Haguro from the depths of her hood. After a moment of consideration, Midway turns in place, "Your dimension is not unpleasant. I shall forgive this waste of my time." She does not hesitate, and simply steps away from the two lords-- unless stopped somehow, Midway is simply departing whence she came.
Azure Armature	Midway arrives in the grandeur of a conquerer. A shimmer besides her ear begins to clandestinely fill her in - the voice toned strangely. It plays to the ear like a whisper, but it's at speaking volume. Also, only Midway and the rest of the Gang can hear it. "You have arrived in the middle of an ongoing operation. This briefing is to get you up to speed." "Ongoing operations across Creation have unseated multiple threats to the stability of the realm and the ultimate goals of our party, known as 'Deathlords'. Impotent warband leaders of still obscenely potent necromagical powers, sitting on war chests and fiefdoms dotted around the Underworld of the firmament. Each has a 'theme', an approach to how they engage in their mission." "The Mask of Winters, seeking to build a Necro-Gear weapon - Juggernaut - to assault the land of the living." "Eye and Seven Despairs, who..." A pause. "Uselessly tortured the same handful of actors over and over." There's a hint of disgust. "The Bohdisattva Annointed in Dark Water, lord of Skullstone, who engaged in Necro-Civics while amassing a massive secret fleet to crush the Realm in 'due time'." "All have been removed from the board. Sent to a permanent death. Our associate, the Bloody Revelation, has a technique to send them to their true end saboteurs to our cause currently lack." "We now seek to remove the Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears, who operates out of Necro-Sensation - feasts of carnality of every sort that leave their occupiers empty and dispossesed. This mundane town is a front - the only one of the Lover's holdings in Creation - and we are investigating it." Midway turns to leave! At that, the briefing ceases. "I hope this briefing was informative."
Starbound Flotilla	"Yeah. We know what we're doing." George says. He doesn't know what they're doing. "The way I heard it, everything's in order to get things in motion. Let's see if everything goes well fate-wise, and if it does, sounds like you heard right about what we're looking for. Vis-a-vis, you know, the great endings and such." George has put on a strange combination of tones, one that sounds on one hand terribly devoted to death, and on the other hand, also kind of disaffected the way middle management might act. His eyebrow quirks up at the mention of Sacheverell. He doesn't understand anything going on! So he nods firmly and positively, and seems vaguely approving of what's happening. "Of course, the mirror. And yes, don't worry -- we're just here to help keep it all going." George says, pleasantly. They are not here to keep it all going. They are here to kill and loot. "'This and that everywhere' sounds like it's about right. Let's get into it, Graf lines. Need anything before you get the Way opened?" He seems to be encouraging them to get it started!
Haguro	A prophecy for the two sons to connect the lands of the living, the dead, and... Number three. The fact that there's so little information about this Third Place should have Haguro more worried than she is, but it's starting to become a fact of existence in places like this. She's even starting to recognize some of Creation's odd names as more than just a collection of letters. She's still rather wary of Midway's presence, though. There's a good minute where it looks like the Cruiser isn't going to look away, but she does eventually manage to focus her attention on the dead king. "Yes, tell us more about this mirror and... What news have you heard about the Tear Eater tribes? Are they making any movements that you or your people are wary about?"
Staren	Opening the way to a Third Place. It /almost/ sounds like the prophecy is talking about Bloody Revelations's purported endgame. That would be too convenient... But, as long as the prophecy has these cultists on their side... "So, just where are the gates and how will you open them? To find the Third Place... the first place we should look is beyond them, right?"
Bloody Revelations	Both kind of fat, doofy, vacuous, obviously-picked-because-they're-dumb-and-easily-seduced-figureheads lean into the bullshit story with the exact same kind of eerily identical total idiot confidence, nodding along and stroking their beards simultaneously. "Yes, well, you asked about what she might be planning with some sort of 'advantage', so I thought of that mirror." Graf the elder says. "I suspect she keeps abreast of everything with plenty of spies. Outside the kingdom of course. Gradafes is the crown jewel, and completely loyal." he asserts, seeing no irony in this. "We don't personally visit her own castle. The ah . . . uh . . ." The younger carries on. "Fortress of Crimson Ice, Graf Ducat. It's a fortress. Made of crimson ice." "Ah! Quite right, quite right!" he replies. "But I do know for a fact that her favourite possession is a peculiar, eleven-sided mirror that she supposedly uses for the greatest of those sorcerous rituals and all. Hasn't been seen in generations, but she brought it out again now. A month prior, maybe?" "Ah, the Tear Eaters though. Barbarians of the north. Terrible sort. The dead ones especially. Most of them are dead, in fact. They worship the great dead. Freeze dried mummies if you ask me. But they bend to the Lover's will, and Gradafes is hers, and so in exchange for some tribute, they keep their marauding eyes on our rivals, hah! I suspect she would very well call them together if she had in mind some sort of grand master stroke against an enemy, or suspected one aimed at herself. I don't know of anything resembling an army." The younger looks to Staren. "Ah, we're supposed to open gates in the Underworld, for you to . . . do whatever it is you do. It's once you do it, that the path to the Third Place opens. I feel that's correct." he says. Feel, rather than know, or think. "Well, I certainly think between the two of us, getting you a way into the Vale of Dust and Shadows, and the Fortress of Crimson Ice inside, would be possible enough, if only once. I'm not certain what you plan to do there, walking in, but that seems to be fate and all. Not right now, if you need the time, but if it's fated to happen, then it will eventually. Of course, it wouldn't be stealthy in the slightest."
Haguro	Haguro has to do a double take when they mention an eleven-sided mirror. She starts to mouth "how" but stopping herself, the illogical mental image getting shoved aside in favor of just accepting it as they described it. "What do you think about her bringing the mirror out?" There's a pause as the shipgirl reaches into her pocket to open up a notepad, tapping on it thoughtfully as if she was reviewing notes on it. Said notes don't exist, of course, but she's fairly confident she can hold the notepad higher than the kings are willing to stand to peek at it. "On a scale of 2 through 9, 2 being the worst feeling and 9 being the best. Each of you, good or bad?" The talk of the Tear Eaters has her jotting down a few legitimate notes about their lack of being alive, yet still being kept around as protectors for Gradafes. "And the Tear Eaters... Have they done anything noteworthy recently? 3 through 10 if they have." She's trying her best to BS her way through this, but there's only so long she can keep this up for. The mention of the Fortress draws her curiosity again, though, and she raises an eyebrow as someone pretending to be mildly suspicious about something would. "'Only once'? Why, exactly?"
Midway	A voice at her ear prompts Midway to stop. She lifts her gaze, listening to this explenation with her eyes transfixed upon the keep's ceiling. After a moment, she lifts one hand to the approximate location of her chin behind the brace of spines ringing her neck. After a moment's thought, she reaches that hand up further to grasp the hood she wears. In one motion, the entire cloak is hauled off over her head and shoulders. Her dress falls about her legs, ghastly pale, split with thread-like cracks that pulse the same crimson as her eyes. Turning once more to face the twin Kings, Midway raises her arms to fold them. Perhaps this will be less of a waste of time than she initially thought-- as she had approached this in entirely the wrong fashion.
Staren	"Mm. And just where is this castle? And more pertinently... if we go take our time to prepare, how do we know you won't be telling the Lady," He leans towards the two kings, "And this whole bit about a prophecy isn't just a trap she laid precisely against any hero-types that take an interest in defeating her, hmm?"
Starbound Flotilla	"Yep, mirror." Yep. Sounds about right! George has no idea what's up, but he's just gonna approve of it. "It's been an active couple of months, y'know? Lots of wheels turning. So this side of the wheel needs to turn too. Just gotta sort the business. There's a lot of infinitely-wise folks kept up on the issue." He clicks his pen, finishing up a short doodle of a cackling Staren running around with a big sack of severed heads and flipping the paper. "Glad the senses are lining up and such. I wasn't briefed on all the details of fulfillment, since you've got most of them. This a designated-time-and-place pilgrimage-type fate-fulfillment, or are we looking at a different pilgrimage-archetype fate fulfillment?" Gotta sound knowledgable! Gotta sound /in the know/! Specifically, gotta sound like maybe they aren't there to kill the Lover and subsequently make the entire region probably a little more unstable. George looks at Staren with a :\| kind of face for a moment. "Because Gradafes doesn't have /quests/ in it." He says. "There's departments and systems for that sort of thing, they'd have some quests if they were supposed to be a hero trap. We're here on business, not pleasure." He's trying to neutralize incredulity in the mood of the conversation ahead of time, just to make sure the Double Kings don't feel too especially incredulous about anything themselves.
Bloody Revelations	"Bad? What would there be to feel bad about?" Graf Ducat replies to Haguro. "If she has it, then she must have big plans, which can only be good for Gradafes! Maybe whatever magical foolery she plans with it is key to opening the way to the Third Place. Ah. Now there's a thought." Graf Chani strokes his beard extra thoughtfully. "Yes, it was um . . . the mirror of . . . something about demons and lightning. At any rate, demons probably mean something good." "I doubt the Third Place is simply hell." "Quite right." "The Tear Eaters don't really concern us. We don't pry. They go as they please, following the directions of their snrt Great Dead, raiding and pillaging as all barbarian folk do, you know. I can't remember the last thing they did worth mentioning. It's what they could do that keeps the other kingdoms in line." "Quite right, quite right." Graf Chani stares at Staren. "Well I suppose you wouldn't know would you? Sacheverell knows though. He sees the shape of things to come and all, you know. I don't think it particularly matters what you know. He'd have seen it." He sounds vaguely fascinated by the recursive tautological stupidity of the statement, as if it were some profound aspect of fatalism. He doesn't really sound . . . well it's pretty obviously they're loyal to the Lover in a kind of valid, brainless puppy way, but they seem far more interested in whoever or whatever Sacheverell is, and far more invested in seeing the Third Place. Also they look like they might forget the bunch of them were even here after dinner, and have to be reminded later. "Ah! Might you also be an . . . intermediary . . . of He Who Sees the Shape of Things to Come?" Graf Ducat replies to George, completely unnecessarily shifting his eyes back and forth at the appropriately middle word, apparently prompted by 'infinitely wise' as a statement. "Marvelous." Graf Chani redoubles his beard stroking, and ventures "Well, we'd know when it's time to open the gates, of course. That's when it would happen. So whenever it's time to open the gates, that's the appointed time and place. I don't rightly know whether that'd just be because it was so well-foreseen, or because it's woven into the tapestry of fate that these events play out when the time is right. Fate is a funny thing, you know." he mrmbles and grmbles. "Something about . . . bah I can't recall. There's something in the mirror that gives you unlimited magic, or something like that. Very important, but we of Gradafes aren't the sorcerous sort of folk! We do important other business!" Apparently like goat herding. "Ah, and the Vale is . . . do you have a map?" he falls back on, not being able to give directions for shit, and just making grubby paws motions so he can circle a land feature he probably knows from sight. "It's only about fifteen miles or so across. You'd hardly miss the Fortress of Crimson Ice if you tried! Haven't the foggiest inside. Probably a wondrous treasuring of fantastical designs and such. The Lover has quite the panoply you know." "Also probably a lot of beautiful things." "And food!" "And women!" "And food!" "And- like that one!" the elder points a fat finger at Midway very suddenly and with boggle-eyed insistence when she takes the cloak off. It's increasingly apparent that the Deathlord herself doesn't keep these guys up to date on anything. This dumpy little kingdom is yet another social experiment to some inscrutable purpose, like the Cirucs Moribund, and whatever else she gets up to, affecting the mantle of total inconsequentiality. It also seems increasingly probable that she herself hasn't heard of Sacheverell either, or this wacko prophecy, or else one would assume she'd have more hooks in these two besotted lardasses so that they wouldn't just blither about it to strangers.
Staren	This whole thing feels a bit... off. Like Staren's out of his element. Which makes sense, after all, they're in George's element. When they ask for a map, Staren hands them a tablet with whatever he's got for a map of Creation. A mirror of infinite magic sounds like something to ask Revel about.
Haguro	"I'll mark that as a 9, then." Haguro murmurs with a quick nod when Graf Ducat fails to give her an actual number, leaving her to check off a box that doesn't actually exist in her notepad. Slipping that pad back into her pocket, she takes it back out moments later when the mirror is mentioned to give unlimite dmagic. She triesnot to let the surprise show in her expression, although doing so is harder when Midway drops that cloak of hers. Now's not the place. Haguro's staring right at her, but she doesn't confront her. Not right here. "Fate is a strange thing, yes. Well, if it's to be, maybe you'll see that Third Place sooner or later." She offers a polite, but lifeless smile as Haguro puts on her office drone/customer service face for a brief moment. It's the best she can manage for the time being. "If there's nothing else, then... Um. Shall we?"
Starbound Flotilla	"I keep my clientelle a little darker than that, but I make sure to know enough not to step on toes." George says, grinning and nodding knowingly. He doesn't know enough to do /anything/ knowingly. He has no idea who the guy is. "Sounds like you've kept in better contact with them, though. How's the communiques been? Probably better than from your patron, if it's been that precise. I know that the lines of communication have been a little... frazzled. Promise there's people working on it! Should be less unclear signals soon." "In any case, we'll get everything sorted and known to the Lover soon. Sounds like it'll be a great visit! I always love those. Should have the mirror issue sorted soon. You wanna come along, finish up that destiny and see it all solve?" Looks like they know where to go though, which he can figure out with a little cartography. George is nudging them to get them into the most dangerous situation possible, of course, because they're kings and he kills kings any chance he can get. Even the dead ones.
Midway	When one of these witless politicians points her out-- declares her a Beautiful Thing-- Midway's gaze lowers just slightly. Those snow-white forelocks cast her face in deep shadow, only the displeased squint of her eyes visible, casting reflections on her cheekbones and the spines that surround her neckline. The thread-like cracks running down her legs widen, pulsing with crimson like a heartbeat. Something about these two annoys her. Though she lacks a lot of context, the way the pair behaves is like a flashing red sign reading 'Incompetent'. The 'hmm' that emits from her is low, drawn out, an easy mix between a thoughtful noise and a displeased rumble not unlike a growl. Her fingers tap impatiently against the opposing arm's bicep. Those talons draw thin streams of ichorous oily blood. A pain that she uses to contain herself.
Bloody Revelations	"Oh I do hope so." says Graf Ducat to Haguro. "Yes, I do too." says Graf Chani." They both beard stroke in that identical, comically attempting to look thoughtful way at George at the same time. "Well I think I should like to." "Oh me as well. I've dreadfully wondered what's behind those walls and all." "And the Third Place." "I wonder if there are beautiful women there." "Oh you musn't do that madam. You're ruining your complexion." Yeah they'll definitely bumble along with George, no question about it. They don't seem capable of understanding that a woman doesn't like them. Frankly, they don't understand a lot, and will do pretty much anything told. If they have some specific way to go and see the Lover Clad in the Raiment of Tears whenever, and 'Open the Gates', it's probably best to keep them around that long, and no later. It's not as if they're going to do anything in the meantime, while people pursue whatever leads they feel like. They're intentionally, comedically useless cultists. Just worth wondering what kind of 'Place' this goes to, maybe.