#❛ ‹ i. &. visage ; this is not the end ━ this is not your end. / maximus ainsley reid › ❜

[infinitedevilengine]

[1] The Heretic's Court is now in session

Will the defendant stand at attention

Ciocie Cioelle Estrella Von Maximus the Third

Adjudication is complete, hear our word

We find you guilty of the crime

Of wasting the heretic's time [2]

And we sentence you to suffer

The desperate ploy you offer

But fortunately for you

There are others sentenced too

Firstly Muu, pale masked in quietude

Is guilty of grand ineptitude

For submitting our taxes doubly filled

And as friend to the accountants guild

To the vault, she must let you intrude [3][A pale demon as the face, she works with the guild and must let the crew in because she accidentally overpaid the Court's taxes]

Second is Stibial, the sulfurous hag

Impudently does her bulk and green visage wag

If she won't with us share

The brimstone she does prepare

She must share with this scalawag [4][A green demon as the mechanic, she's an expert at gunpowder but refuses to share with the court]

Now meet Ahncor, of scarlet face

Believes this great court, he can deface

No blood may he spill

But some role he must fill

Any danger you ask he must embrace[A red demon as the acrobat, he must do whatever crazy things are asked but he's not allowed to fight]

Next Errienna, of the gilded masquerade

The assassin sang most poorly when bade

Guilty of her skills

She must owe you kills

Ten deaths for your cause must be made [5][A gold demon as the bruiser, and a professional assassin]

Now Kulkie the clerk, with his navy grin

Thought himself somehow safe from the Court's whim

To end his delusion

He will follow your collusion

To report when we convene again  [A blue demon as the mystery sixth role, he works for the court and must report back on what happens]

Lastly Duru Maan, our goblin thrall

A Servant like Mammon, with a different call

As our last jokeThis simple blokeMust lead your affair to its fall [An idiot goblin is assigned as group leader as a joke]

Now to our judgments you must avail

And leave to the vault that shall be your jail

Make haste, your presence has grown quite stale.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- [1] "As with any formal affair between devils, the Heretic's Court (or perhaps Heretics' Court?) delivers judgment in melody and verse. It is still not clear to me if this is a conscious decision, or a subconscious subversion of formality."- St. Albert's Lexidaemon [2] "By my observation, everyone who stands before the Court is found guilty of something, even if it is not the subject of the hearing."- St. Albert's Lexidaemon [3] "It is considered standard practice to follow the letter, and diverge from the spirit or intent, of the verdict(s). For example, if a devil was sentenced to clean a room, the devil will likely pocket anything of value in the room and everything else will disappear: furniture, rugs, doors, chandeliers, and so on. And for any other group, I might say 'polite' rather than 'standard practice,' although the Court never seems offended."- St. Albert's Lexidaemon [4] "There are relatively few rules to break in devil society, but the most common one seems to be contempt of the Court. The Court will often demand whatever is wishes of a demon, and if the demon refuses, then it is guilty of contempt and typically sentenced to something more severe."- St. Albert's Lexidaemon [5] "The second most common transgression is somehow annoying the Court in an informal way. It is not intuitive what annoys the court however; most other judicial systems would find the entirety of the Court's workings guilty of this very charge."

- St. Albert's Lexidaemon

[prfectplces]

we back @ it w the sci fi ocs ... my loves ... maxie tags & orrin tags

[elstine-harboson]

((Dedicated to a dear friend that has recently departed from WoW, we'll miss you Jay. I will miss you.)) The series of bells that signified that midnight had taken its hold could be heard echoing through the canyon like streets made from cobble and wood; at the end of an Elwyn road close to the city Elstine had chosen to settle himself into his favorite porch rocking chair. The only light nearby to give himself away came from a subtle orange glow that hummed from the end of his cigarette that was tucked between his index and middle finger. His gloves, boots, even his armor had been discarded for the evening, now only in a wrinkled pair unbuckled slacks and a unbuttoned white dress shirt with the sleeves still neatly rolled up; the cigarette rose to settle in between the thin line of his lips. A tired, dirt-brown visage was focused upon his yard, though exasperated from the day he kept searching the treeline, searching the edge of the hill that hid the coming path; he hoped to hear a fluttering of feathers, predatorial growl, maybe some glowing eyes peeking back at him. But he was alone. It had been several days now since he had last heard from Jagen, while it wasn't uncommon for the little Druidess to wander off for at a time without word she would also return when Elstine needed her, it's like she could smell the tobaco grom the other end of the world - could tell when he had missed a dose of his sleep inducing medications as prescribed by his Doctor and Friend. At this point, the smoking wasn't about calming his nerves anymore, it was a damned flare shooting out into the sky hoping to signal the Druid, hoping to hear the nagging voice: "Elstine, those things will kill you! If you want to live long enough to create a damn Empire you better quit - and take your medication too!" He had already chosen to leave his Father, Mother, siblings, and the family farm, his mentor and tutor had discarded him with a knife to the back, and now one of the few he trusted... How was he to confide into someone that was not there? Who would take care of him now? Who would be the voice of reason in his mad dash for eternity? In his other hand, he held a frame with an aging portrait of Jagen and her gifted Turtle Companion: Maximus. The amber eyes of the Druidess seemed to sparkle under the casual glow of the cigarette's slow burn. Elstine sure was glad there was a sheet of glass covering the only and picture of his friend as tears began to build under the frigidly calculating visage; how many more would leave his side. Difficult to have three musketeers with only two. "Mama Jay," he spat out shivering behind his words before he crumpled forward, pressing his forehead against the wooden frame and wept. "Where are you." @mylittledruid @danirel-thorson