The Beautiful People [Lestat, Exam]

by **Eris** Sat 8 Jul - 13:46

Eris: Lich of hell; - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Lineage : Devil's Conquest
Position : None
Posts : 1471
Guild : Grim Heresy [GM]
Cosmic Coins : 5
Dungeon Tokens : 0
Experience : 0

Character Sheet
First Skill: Sunset Eclipse - The Sandstorm GS
Second Skill: Titan Eclipse • Devil Pact
Third Skill:

Post n°1

The Beautiful People [Lestat, Exam]

by Eris Sat 8 Jul - 13:46

Eris

⛧

_________________________________________

_________________________________________

Eris lay bare on a red cushioned lounge overlooking a wide marble and granite shared bath filled with men and women benefiting from the healing waters. Even laying down she towered over all others, the men and women who lay with her like dolls at her side or sleeping soundly like kittens napping on her side in the curve of her waist and elsewhere due to her massive size, like a monolithic statue. Her curves were like hills and her size allowed many of the faithful present to relax next to her, leaning against her or laying atop her, perhaps even with their significant others at their side.

~*Example1 | Example2*~

After a long day of entertainment and vice the atmosphere had winded down recently into what was a sleepy afternoon for them all, not that there was an afternoon. There was no day cycles in this realm, so people set aside hours for rest and relaxation. Such was the purpose of this great bath chamber with towering marble pillars lining the bath and murals set with mosaic gemmed tiles in a band along the outer wall and in the waters themselves. It was a paradise for those present, particularly those who got to rest with Eris herself, their goddess, as it was literally their paradise. Their eternal reward, their afterlife. Eris appreciated their attention and honored their desires to spend time with her on occasion, and would visit them when the mood to just simply relax struck her.
As busy as she was, always working to some end, she managed to find excuses to take a break. She didn't need to, but at times she wanted to, and it helped connect her to those around her more. Wherever she went, Eris was always connected to her vast network of followers and agents, spies in every corner of the world. On a deep level she was constantly observing them all in the back of her mind, subconscious filtering and responding to the flow of information. As such, Eris could afford to relax, as she did not need to physically be anywhere in particular to remain active.

Eris idly stroked the back of a woman who lay against her chest like a purring kitten, as giant as Eris was her touch, a single finger given her size, was light and was like a gentle massage as the girl dozed away in a peaceful state of rest. Servants, who earned a lesser place in this heaven through one way or another and could earn a full status with time and service, wore only translucent red sashes to set them apart. Many were busy walking trays to or from the kitchens while others stood silent waiting for a command from someone, some were giving services to those who requested it. Massages, rubs, combing hair or feeding idle masters by hand as they lounged, among other services they could provide.
After an hour into the time of rest it was there, lounging so, that a spark flickered in her minds eye, distant and internal deep within her forging a connection to a far away soul bound to her. Information flowed through her as a fragment of her mind drifted off to respond and receive an important message from a ranking official of the secret society Cult of Sin deeply embedded in a foreign government calling to her from the privacy of a hidden chamber within his office in a small shrine room as he lit a fire in a deep bronze and bowl hollowed out from a stone altar. To the fire he fed some documents.

Eris raised a hand in the air as though holding onto something, as a set of papers slowly formed as though burning into existence, following the manner in which the papers the man's papers burned, where the papers were destroyed they were coming to life in Eris's hands across the veil of worlds. A sacrifice to her, destroyed in her name it became her property in this afterlife world.
The papers confirmed the man's report, bringing key information to her attention.
On the man's side back in the mortal world a translucent vision of Eris appeared from his altar like a dream to lay her hands on his shoulders and kiss his head as knelt bowed at the foot of the stonework. Within him the pulsing red glow of the Pact Mark inside him hummed as small runes changed, moved, or were rewritten as his Pact was altered, expanded. Upgraded, baring new gifts.

⛧

S o m e t i m e L a t e r . . .

Eris sat on a stone ledge under a star lit sky clear of clouds, leaning against a gargoyle at her side, one leg dangling above the fall below, her other angled on the ledge where her arm rested on her knee. Her red lined cloak draped from her blanketing the ledge and hugging her like silk sheets, long white hair rustling in a breeze natural to the high vantage she had over a stone and brick city lit by streetlamps and oils, the orange flicker of fire light illuminating the streets and windows of manors.
Lord Street. Where the wealthy of Minstrel engaged in architectural competition to boast their wealth through the lavishness and size of their estates that were concentrated within the walled Noble Quarter, a palace on the far end rose up on a cliff-faced hill to rise above the rest, where many of the nobles served in council and court. Where the nobleman had sent Eris information on a budding Inquisition forming, a movement starting to take root with an internal security council was becoming too aware of the Cult of Sin's reach. A sect within the palace grew suspicious of their own leaders and started on their own little crusade against 'corruption', as the documents reported.
They had very little evidence to support their claims, but the documents containing translated secret messages in letters sent between members of the sect claimed to have developed an early prototype that reveals Faustian influence and that they were equipping their private guards with. They had begun to form a list of suspects who radiated signs on possessing a devil's mark. Eris looked up at the rising moon as a small gust caused her hair to wave in the wind behind her, against the gargoyle. They were going to attempt to seize their suspects at dawn.

An insult such as this would not go unanswered. Their prototypes and their inventors had to be purged, but so too would every man and women who did not bare her mark. Any one of them could be assumed to have caught word or have been given information that Eris would not allow to spread beyond these walls. Down at the gates the giant wooden doors had been closed an hour ago, thick iron grates slamming down on either side of them barring the way. The guardsmen at the gates and manning the entry permits standing guard on her behalf. No one would leave, the gates would not open. Until dawn.

Until then, the whole Noble Quarter was now an Arena, their prison. Eris, their warden. The night was young, and the quarter still alive with activity concentrating towards the palace where the night's ball and festivities were taking place. It was something of a competitive sport to demonstrate who could host the best event, there was on nearly any night an event taking place but tonight was a grander event taking place at the palace itself commissioned by the high chancellor and several council members.

Their party needed a bit more spice.

It was an opportunity in Eris's hands to stage a game and a trial. A small ripple bled out through the multitude of connections as she reached out and touched the mark of one in particular who came to mind, who's actions had been commendable but in need of a test to see how far they could go. Murdering children could only get one so far, but his actions had displayed a pattern of action and responsiveness to the pact he bore.

Eris gave him a window of opportunity. Her touch was light and subtle. It was not an order or command but a faint suggestion of action, a small ping of inspiration. Lestat would feel his mark smolder with a faint indication of the presence of something with the implication that he could investigate the sensation and follow it to a hidden Door. Where Grims could sense the presence of Doors, this door was soft, like spotting a pane of glass beneath the surface of a lake, but the faint suggestion would prompt him to look. Like a stray thought, quick and passing, and it would leave. It was like listening to a mild gut feeling easy to not dwell on and shrug off.

The door itself should he follow the feeling was a window set in the side of a building on the second floor of an abandoned inn. Opening the window would reveal not the interior, or the street below depending on whether he approached it from inside or outside, but would open up to a steep rooftop from which the window was set into, a rooftop of of rough shingles angled down to a stone ledge framed by gargoyles overlooking a city, palace in the distance, and Eris. Even of the size normal for a human Eris was tall and was shrouded in an aura of presence that made her feel as though one were standing before a giant.

_________________________________________

_____________________________________________________________________________________