Amdirlain’s PoV - The Exchange

Those watching when she’d passed through the entry gate had looked away at her transformation, but her state didn’t remain a deterrent. Other entities began to follow the pair in their travels through the city streets, some only for short distances, but one persistent Nymph continued to trail Amdirlain for blocks on their way to the marketplace. With many steering clear of the duo, the Nymph had plenty of opportunity to get a clear view of Amdirlain. Her eyes drank in Amdirlain's undulating stride and, amusingly, Amdirlain caught the Nymph trying to duplicate how Amdirlain walked using her Dancer Class.

“You could wiggle a finger at her and she’d follow you home,” murmured Sarah.

Amdirlain had already reassured herself of the Nymph’s nature. “Outlands Nymph. I wonder if someone transplanted her tree or if it grew from a cutting? Does your Analysis give you anything details-wise beyond native to The Exchange?”

“That’s what I get as well,” agreed Sarah.

Up ahead, a group of seven mercenaries—their weapons and armour glowing brightly with Mana—turned to watch her gliding strut.

“Let’s just find this marketplace,” sighed Amdirlain.

When the street traffic started to fade, Sarah guided them off the major thoroughfare and took them through twisting alleyways. The cries from merchants promoting goods growing louder promised a gathering ahead, but Sarah bounded up a flight of stairs before the latest alleyway's end. After passing three floors, she exited onto a balcony overlooking a square filled with orderly stalls selling an array of foods.

As Amdirlain turned off the stairs, the contact for the Cloister became obvious. To mundane sight, he looked like a femininely petite Elf, 150 centimetres tall with bone-white skin and clad in a black loincloth, but True Sight revealed his actual form beneath Shapeshift. Clotted blood swirled around in a featureless humanoid form, the wings folded tight within his adopted form showed metallic spurs and a leathery membrane. His fingers tapping the railing concealed the phantasmal claws of shiny black metal that would have shredded stone with each motion.

[Name: Dagrastûr

Species: Arch Profaner Fallen

Class: Void Stalker / Cloister Assassin / Consuming Knight / Cloister Delegate

Details: Formerly of the Summer Court, corrupted by the red caps into playing too much with his foes.

Note: But you knew his name already. Are you trying to peek beneath the loin cloth?]

Getting those details earned a bite of pain in Amdirlain's mind, but Analysis appreciated her efforts.

[Analysis [S] (25->26)]

Sarah moved towards him without hesitation, and Amdirlain kept pace.

“Dagrastûr, thanks for meeting with us. I hope we weren’t interrupting other activities.”

Sarah's use of his name prompted Dagrastûr to turn towards them. As he did, Amdirlain spotted a crystal pendant shaped like a flint arrowhead sitting at the hollow of his collarbones. A short black cord around his neck adhered to his skin and held the pendant in place.

[True Song Crystal - Mark of the Seeker

Creator: Orhêthurin

Lifespan: N/A

Details: Allows cloister members to communicate across planes and pass through the testing plinth’s wards. Gained by following the trails to the start of Redemption’s Path or by accessing the path’s focal point within the darkness.]

“Sarah, you and your associates have truly earned the Cloister’s aid; a meeting, even one with short notice, isn’t a burden,” replied Dagrastûr before he nodded towards Amdirlain. “I take it you’re the individual Sarah spoke of looking for Redemption’s Path.”

“I am. Sarah said you had information you could share with me,” agreed Amdirlain.

“First, I should share with you some things about the Cloister. Would you prefer talking in the open behind concealments, or taking a private room at one of the Mortal restaurants that litter The Exchange?”

Amdirlain shrugged. “Either is fine with me if I’m allowed to put the concealments in place.”

“I don’t know your capabilities. How about we both put concealments in place?” countered Dagrastûr.

“That’s agreeable,” confirmed Amdirlain. “Might I start?”

“Feel free,” Dagrastûr stated, and he folded his arms behind his back in what seemed an awkward position to Amdirlain.

When Amdirlain sang, she split her voice and layered concealments in place. The outer layers duplicated the Wizard ones that Ebusuku had used, with an inner layer composed of True Song barriers.

Dagrastûr started at her singing and watched the Mana of the barriers settling into place. “I hadn’t expected a Spellsinger; you don’t follow their fashion—your clothing is far too plain. Not that it matters; your history is your own, and there is no need to share it, or your name.”

When Amdirlain nodded to signal her barriers were in place, Dagrastûr set some of his own. The songs of their magic were sometimes identical to the concealments Amdirlain set, or subtle variations, but nothing for any other purpose than to conceal them from another’s senses. The strength of the magic in them was higher than what Amdirlain would have managed casting instead of singing.

“Now we’ve taken care of that; what do you believe Redemption’s Path to be?” asked Dagrastûr.

“An ancient mechanism by which a Fallen’s actions, post starting the path, get weighed against all evil deeds committed until a balance is reached. After it determines they have achieved a balance, those worthy can return to the heavenly planes,” stated Amdirlain, focusing solely on the information she wanted to share.

Amdirlain's explanation caused deep furrows in Dagrastûr’s brow. He lost his air of casualness before she was halfway through and looked her up and down more carefully. “You know far more than most. What do you know of the Cloister?”

“Only that you have a fortress on Ijmti and likely guard the start of the path in a cavern beneath it,” admitted Amdirlain.

“Only? To most we are merely whispers and rumours unless a seeker has progressed far enough along the trial to have come under observation,” stated Dagrastûr as he glanced between them. “I don’t normally talk to candidates so openly, merely hinting. There are marker stones of the trial within The Exchange, and they’re the most common start of the trials.”

Amdirlain hummed. “Sarah said you were the Cloister’s representative here.”

“I am, but my purpose isn’t to recruit, other than nudging a potential if I find one. I’m here to aid our projects in various fashions. The information sources here mean I can find situations where our members can provide aid or pick up materials for ongoing work,” explained Dagrastûr. “Sarah never explained how she came to know of me. Yet the fact we’ve already helped save thousands of mortals from the Abyss inclines me to talk to you more fully.”

Sarah gave him a tight smile. “Some individuals on Mechanus know of your order and its endeavours.”

Her explanation earned a relieved nod from Dagrastûr.

“I’ve encountered a marker stone; it pointed me towards a location on the Plane Kapùcterv,” interjected Amdirlain before Dagrastûr could question Sarah.

“Your resistance to decay must need a lot of work; those lacking it at the trial’s start normally take that route,” noted Dagrastûr.

“Is it permitted to skip the trial and access the path’s start?” asked Amdirlain.

Dagrastûr frowned. “Existing on Ijmti is difficult for those lacking the trial’s tempering.”

“Difficult isn’t impossible, and the Cloister has benefited from my project with the crystals.”

“Your project? How can it be yours? You’re neither Anar nor Lómë, so you can’t have created the crystals,” argued Dagrastûr.

Amdirlain smiled. “I am Fallen, not Mortal. Yet I developed the plan and broke the Lómë out of their despair to act.”

“An interesting claim,” challenged Dagrastûr.

“Did the Lómë that you met with introduce himself?”

“He did,” admitted Dagrastûr, though he frowned in confusion at the question.

“Then ask him if they would have started work on the crystals you’ve been using without Am’s involvement,” suggested Amdirlain. “It’s not my full name, but he’ll recognise it as a reference to me.”

It took less than a minute for Dagrastûr to receive a reply. The acknowledgement and plea from Roher for the Cloister to provide her help raised Dagrastûr’s brows.

“You inspire concern for your well-being, not fear. That is most unusual for one that hasn’t even started on the trials, let alone the path,” observed Dagrastûr. “Part of belonging to the Cloister is sharing the duty of protecting our fortress on Ijmti. Counting on magical protections instead of resistances could leave you vulnerable when present on the Plane.”

“What other expectations do you have of your members?”

“First, to work to assist each other’s progress on the path. Many facets of the Cloister’s work won’t help your immediate progress, but benefit others,” warned Dagrastûr.

“So the path doesn’t credit your actions unless they’re done intending to help another more than yourself?” asked Amdirlain. “How long do you keep new members on other duties?”

“We’ve lost a number because they refused to realise that help provided for selfish reasons is meaningless to the path,” offered Dagrastûr. “We keep new members undertaking support roles until we see they’ve stopped worrying about themselves and instead focus on helping others.”

“Second?”

“Not to judge each other for mistakes, but to leave that to the path. Its verdict is always harsher than any we would inflict,” stated Dagrastûr, the kind smile he offered was weird with Amdirlain being able to see his form beneath it. “Last is to protect the path, so those who come after will also have their chance.”

“What do you do if someone starts the path and then leaves the Cloister?”

“Then they leave. Hopefully they’ll come back before they fall into corruption completely, but it's their path to walk. If we forced another to make things easier on ourselves, I’m sure the judgement wouldn’t be kind,” clarified Dagrastûr.

“Will you let me shortcut to the path’s start?”

“If you can put sufficient protections in place yourself,” said Dagrastûr. “You’ll need the equivalent of Greater Resistance to Chaos, Decay, Primordial, Poison, and Life energies. If you have less than that, I wouldn’t be comfortable taking you to Ijmti.”

“While I’m happy to help others progress their path, I have a project I presently need to finish. Could I start the path and complete the next stage of my goals before actively working with the Cloister?”

Dagrastûr frowned. “Are these goals why you asked about individuals walking away?”

“In part, but I wanted to make sure you weren’t binding anyone with oaths on their True Name or something,” replied Amdirlain, and she nodded at the distaste evidenced in Dagrastûr expression and the increased tempo of his tapping fingers. “The other part is the time-sensitive nature of my goals; if fulfilling them takes too long, the outcome will be far worse. I’ll admit, if you tried to stick me with guard duty for a hundred years straight before I’ve fulfilled them, I wouldn’t stick around.”

Dagrastûr snorted. “We undertake such duty on a rotation. We’ve thousands in the Cloister, and all of us can freely transverse the planes. Might I know what your project is?”

“Three celestials got dragged into a Transformation Site; somehow they came out of it as Fallen instead of the demons I feared they’d be. I’ve caught two of them, but I’m still seeking the third; he sent ‘gifts’ to mortals in the form of flayed bodies and necromantically tortured souls. The longer I take to catch him, the more he has to make up for,” clarified Amdirlain, keeping the pain that dug its claws through her guts from her voice.

At the first scritch from the metal railing, Dagrastûr lifted his hand from the impression he’d left. “It is unlikely you’ll be able to get them into a state to want to redeem themselves.”

Amdirlain sighed. “I’ve got them in a Lómë purification field outside the Abyss. I’m hoping it weakens the corruption’s hold on their minds.”

“You are unusual! I’ll admit I’ve never encountered a situation where mortals have contacted the Cloister on behalf of a Fallen, nor ever met someone that wasn’t already on the path and willing to help those on its journey to any degree. Yet Roher confirmed it was your doing that put the rescue of thousands in our hands. Those undertaking that work have been gaining from it. Given the unlikely events you’ve already been part of, what help can I provide your search?” asked Dagrastûr.

“That’s kind of you to offer, and if something comes up, I’ll let you know, but we’re still getting to know each other,” demurred Amdirlain. “I shared that information to clarify the importance, not because I was looking for your help.”

“Understandable; still, the offer remains open,” replied Dagrastûr. “Do you need more time in The Exchange, or do you want to show me your protections and head to Ijmti?”

“We need more time here, but I’ll show you mine,” quipped Amdirlain. Between the Shield Mastery and Elemental Shields Spell lists, Amdirlain quickly had protections against the five energies in place.

When the last barrier settled into place, Dagrastûr nodded in satisfaction. “That relieves my concerns in that respect. My name is Dagrastûr; now you won’t need Sarah to pass messages for you.”

“Thank you,” Amdirlain said, and she gave him a respectful nod before she followed Sarah downstairs.

When Sarah reached the alleyway again, she tilted her head, and Amdirlain extended a mental link.

Sarah pointed upwards, and the pair flew between the buildings until they reached the open sky. “Did your Precognition ping on anything?”

“No warnings, but he was sensitive to the news of corrupted celestials,” replied Amdirlain.

“Or he reacted to the pain and sorrow in your voice, sweetie,” countered Sarah, her mental voice carrying an enfolding warmth.

Amdirlain winced. “Where is the Satyr, and what’s his name?”

“Hybris, and we keep flying straight this way until you see an oak tree that adds four stories in height to a skyscraper,” responded Sarah before she transformed into her Dragon form. Despite the wards restricting her size, the inner red glow of her hide had more than a few flyers giving them a wide berth. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I can meet with him and get the information.”

Amdirlain huffed. “Hybris, is that one of the classic Greek Satyr names? Yes, insolence. As for meeting him, it’s likely not a good idea for me, but we’re doing this anyway. ”

Despite the time she’d spent listening to the wards before creating Sanctuary’s Demi-Plane, Amdirlain rechecked them as they flew along. Here and there, she poked at them with True Song ensuring it didn’t cause the slightest of reactions. “The wards are psionic and magical blends like the monastery's, but more powerful. Without the Gate in the way, they have the feel of the Amethyst Dragon templates to them.”

“Very true,” agreed Sarah.

When the tree came into sight, they made out the surrounding park was awash with people, and on closing the distance, it was apparent an orgy was in full flight. Among the naked revellers—of mostly humanoid species—female fauns and male satyrs danced and fornicated, apparently uncaring which gender or activity they were engaged in. Open swathes of grass, couches, and tables hosted couples, trios, and more. Looking over the party guests, it was clear someone had picked them for their clean muscularity and their proximity to a Human appearance.

“He’s among a circle of chairs near the oak tree,” stated Sarah as they regarded the scene from the air. A raised dais before the oak tree provided a vantage point to overlook the orgy and space for the dozen armed guards to stand amidst the chaos. Their weapons catered to the Demi-Plane's wards: bladed shields, man-catchers, and other contraptions; well-chosen options suited to hinder and delay until the wards reacted to capture attackers.

“The Greek mythological creatures the Songbird added always had a taste that tended towards Human-like species, even without the Greek deities presence,” Amdirlain projected, and Sarah snorted in amusement.

Picking the closest spot along the rooftop’s edge—a half kilometre from the oak tree—the pair landed and started to move through the crowd. When they were still a hundred metres away, the Satyr Sarah had mentally pointed out as Hybris was already watching them, licking his lips at their approach. His only goat-like features were his legs from mid-thigh and horns rising from about his temples. Chestnut locks hanging across his muscular shoulders possessed wavey curls similar to the hairs covering his lower legs.

Standing up, he pulled a nearby Faun across the table in front of him. Her legs wrapped around his lower back, and he sheathed himself in her with a single thrust. The Faun happily moaned and wiggled about on the table, yet Hybris’ gaze wasn’t even on her. Instead, his eyes lingered on Amdirlain’s approach. As they drew near, Hybris thrust, slowly building up a rhythm in pace with their growing proximity. When Amdirlain had to push aside guests that tried desperately to entice her to join them, Hybris laughed and picked up the pace. The sour music emanating from his Soul dug at Amdirlain to get the Faun away.

When Amdirlain and Sarah got within arm’s reach of the table, they stopped without exchanging words. “Hybris, you were supposed to meet with us now to sell information,” stated Sarah.

Hybris kept up the pace for a few minutes more until he unloaded into the Faun with a shuddering grunt. With a slap on her arse, he pulled out with a wet sucking sound, his veined member still standing its ground.

“Who’s next for receiving my wondrous seed?” crowed Hybris.

“You were supposed to meet with us now to sell information,” repeated Sarah, deliberately repeating her words in a slow cadence.

“Perhaps if she dances I might indulge you,” countered Hybris, waving at Amdirlain. “I saw her slide through my party and needed to screw something.”

“No, Hybris, you tell me what I want to know, or I will dance for you,” countered Amdirlain.

“Are you that bad?” laughed Hybris as he looked her up and down, licking his lips before waving to the panting Faun on the table in front of him. “You can always lay next to her and I’ll teach you some moves.”

Amdirlain smiled and let her Charisma unfurl across the party, bringing the nearby revellers to a stumbling halt as they looked towards her. True Song’s power silently amplified their attraction while freezing them in place through awed confusion.

The reinforced inflections in her reply had the Satyr’s rampant display twitching with every second word. “No, you don’t want to experience the steps I’d take with you. Delay further, and I’ll leave you with nothing.”

The harsh tones in her last word had Hybris wilting like celery on a hot summer’s day, the last droplets splattering across his cloven feet as his member hung decidedly limp.

“What did you do to me?” whimpered Hybris, fruitlessly tugging at himself to stimulate a reaction.

“Your choice, goat boy. Shall we meet as agreed, or should I leave you to lick up the last cum you’ll ever produce?” growled Amdirlain, the pain she held at bay washing out across the gathering, drawing cries and sobs.

“Meet,” bleated Hybris.

Channelling the arrogance learned in her lessons with Ilya, Amdirlain turned on her heel and looked over the crowd. “Everyone, pack up all your things and calmly leave. Anyone pushing or shoving will displease me.”

They left quickly and calmly towards one flight of stairs or another. The guards that had stood closer to the oak tree were among the first to flee.

“Fix me,” begged Hybris as the crowd started to disperse. “How did you do this through the wards?”

“You're a Satyr, so I know you have Mana Sense at the very least. Did I cast anything?” enquired Amdirlain, her tone becoming almost gentle.

Hybris whimpered. “No.”

“Raw Charisma alone can be a dangerous thing. When I warned you, your body reacted; it didn’t want me unhappy. We need information. You have that information. Please me, and I’ll please you; anger me, and my offer remains,” stated Amdirlain, and she jabbed a finger towards the trail the Faun had left in the wake of her immediate departure.

Swallowing nervously, Hybris moaned. “What do you need?”

“The world of Vehtë, you hired some of Hell’s agents to freelance. They killed, flayed, and delivered tortured souls to various locations. I want to know everything about who organised that through you,” announced Amdirlain, her words delivered in a sharp tone that slapped against him.

“If I tell you, no one will deal with me again, and it won’t help you,” whimpered Hybris

“Tell me, or you won’t be having an erection ever again. What’s more important to you? Business, or your pleasure?” asked Amdirlain, motioning to his flaccid member.

“The Exchange management-”

“Have their rules, which I won’t break. I’ve not struck you, cast a Spell, or used a Power to influence your mind. Your body is following a natural process that, I’ll admit, I encouraged; even satyrs don’t always have erections. Of course, it might decide to continue to follow that option for the rest of your life,” interrupted Amdirlain. Her words contained an undercurrent of desperation that matched emotions she projected through Charisma, and the combination clawed along his spine, making him shiver uncomfortably. “Four or five hundred years of abstinence will give you plenty of time to follow other pursuits.”

“They did everything through couriers: hiring me, delivering payment, and the materials for the Kyton’s rites,” blurted Hybris, eyes widening in horror. “A different courier on every exchange.”

Amdirlain growled, a deep rumbling noise that she laced with dread for him alone. “Then tell me about the couriers before I grow bored and leave.”

“They looked like different races,” gasped Hybris, looking towards Sarah in desperation, only to receive a vicious smile. “Fine, they were all Efreeti; even transformed, they smelt of hot brass and smouldering flames.”

“Was that so hard, Hybris?” asked Amdirlain, ignoring Sarah’s snicker. “The Elemental Plane of Fire is a big place, any chance of narrowing it down?”

At her question, Hybris swallowed, his eyes darting frantically about, seeking anything that might help.

Sarah yawned to show multiple rows of sharpened teeth. “The grilled sausage is a bit of let down around here. Maybe they need some fresh meat for the stuffing. Should we perhaps pop out to the Outlands to fetch some, Hybris?”

“They had no markings, but they all looked over everyone carefully; how an Assassin assesses a target,” babbled Hybris.

“The Efreeti laws only allow one assassin’s guild,” commented Sarah.

“I believe we’re done here, Hybris,” stated Amdirlain, and she linked his body’s processes to his soul's condition. “Harden.”

His erection returned in a rush that had every vein standing out, and Hybris clutched at himself from the sudden change. Letting out a bleat, he bent in two as if kicked in the crotch, the veins of his penis looking fit to rupture.

Taking to the air, Sarah transformed into her Dragon shape, but Amdirlain didn’t immediately join her. Instead, Amdirlain's glare pinned Hybris in place, the rage burning through her rasped across her words. “Something to screw? You helped fund Hell’s agents and knew it. Bring your life back into balance, and your erection will behave. You’ve taken neutrality as an excuse to grow rich, but the amount of evil you’ve knowingly assisted marks your Soul.”

“Please, mercy,” grunted Hybris, his dick growing dark red as blood continued to engorge it.

“Tell that to those whose souls you helped send to Hell,” growled Amdirlain, and she pointed to his engorged penis. “That could be your last erection. You picked the wrong person to fuck around with today.”

With that, she leapt into the air and let Flight carry her along without flapping her wings.

As they flew away, Sarah asked. “Last one?”

“Even satyrs sometimes need to let it rest, so I don’t think he’ll be having fun; that medical condition leads to permanent damage,” stated Amdirlain. “Given his Soul's state, he’s been a knowing cat’s paw for the lower planes for years.”

“Regeneration?” proposed Sarah.

“Bound it against his Soul. While ever his dick is functional, the stains on his Soul will cause it to engorge painfully, so right back at square one,” Amdirlain said with a snort.

“Redemption’s Path might smack you for that one,” cautioned Sarah.

“Except all I felt was disgust, not enjoyment,” observed Amdirlain. “Do you think Farhad would provide information on the assassin’s guild taking courier jobs?”

Sarah smirked. “Are you trying to invoke disgust in him for the life he used to lead?”

“He would say that is where he was on the journey. To deny who he was is to ignore the lessons it taught him,” countered Amdirlain. “Let’s see if Dagrastûr will meet up now.”

Giving a disgruntled snort, Sarah shook her head. “I’ll talk to Farhad and leave you to take the trip to Ijmti with Dagrastûr.”

“Don’t go to the City of Brass without me,” Amdirlain said before she sent a Message to Dagrastûr, including an image of a street exit they’d passed near the marketplace meeting. “I’ll wait there until you are ready to leave.”

Dagrastûr’s response was within seconds. “Be right there.”

“Catch you later,” Amdirlain said, and she gave Sarah a wave before speeding away, her path dipping close to the rooftops. She descended into an alleyway close to her target and found Dagrastûr true to his word: the spot she’d pictured already hosted Dagrastûr.

“Your other business didn’t take long at all,” commented Dagrastûr as she landed nearby.

“It was a bit of a quickie,” replied Amdirlain, and she motioned to stairs leading down to an exit zone. “Shall we?”