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March 11, 1999 (logged and edited for clarity by Taisch)
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The Realm of Ice - Hell

Neverending in its variety of sadistic expression, Hell works in a most vile
way. Here, contrary to the fires and infernal heat, ice and snow rules in a
grotesque irony. You find yourself on the peak of a mountain, protruding above
all else in an unsettlingly majestic view. Far below are misty clouds, thick
and frozen, prohibiting from seing the ground. Over the cloudscape, other
peaks poke from the misty carpet, their sharp points challenging air itself.
And all that covered with ice and snow the creeps relentlessly onto you the
longer you spend here. The chill is murderous, freezing your very soul, and
the wind howling from the passage at your back nearly knocks you off ths
ledge. But besides the madness of Pandemonium hidden in the caverns away,
there is no other sound here, covering the realm of ice in complete and
unbroken silence. The silence of death.

Contents:
Charon
Mehitabel, the Lost Soul
Belial, the Dark Angel.
Voting Circle
Obvious exits:
Glacial Pathway <gp>  Down the Mountain <d>  Back to Madness

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Belial, the Dark Angel.

	Before you stands a Dark Angel of immense proportions, a mighty
creature which stands approximately nine feet tall. Around it the very air,
and space seems to twist and bend to its will, a dark energy which surges
forth from its body into the surrounding area. It is plainly obviousely that
this being is of a demonic nature and affiliation, one of the most powerful
infernal creatures.
	From its back spread six huge wings, darkly beautiful, covered in jet
black feathers. Each feather is perfect and fine, and if any were to touch one
of his wings they would swear the feathers were made of pure silk. When
outstretched, the wings have a massive wingspan of nearly twice this Dark
Angels height, yet they are rarely fully outstretched.
	His face is pale and white, with an intense beauty which is in some ways
only enhanced by the dark nature of the creature. Long, raven black, soft hair
flows all the way down his back, between his three sets of wings. His irises
are pitch black, except for his pupils which glow with a bright infernal
light, a light which hints at an all encompassing lust for vengeance which
dwells within this beings soul. Spreading out from the iris' are black veins,
which spread throughout his eyes. The beings lips are black, and the area
around his eyes and beneath his high cheek bones are tinted dark.
	He wears upon his body a robe of the finest black silk, with a suit of
chainmail which looks almost as if it was crystalline, and made of tiny bones
instead of links. Atop his head sits a crown, a crown of Onyx, with black
diamonds set into it. The crown sizzles and glows with an infernal power and
energy.
	The Dark Angel is strong and mighty, with broad shoulders and powerful
arms.  His hands are claws, viscious and sinister, with long black nails which
are strong; perfect for ripping into the flesh of his enemies. Upon his right
hip hangs a longsword made of Onyx and dark crystal, which like his crown,
seems to glow and crackle with energy.

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Mehitabel, the Lost Soul

A woman of medium height, her age seeming to be between twenty and thirty. The
first impression is of a delicate, haunting and ethereal beauty, yet her
presence carries a subtly dark and frightening overtone, like the chill
passage of a ghost. Her skin is startlingly pale, like the flesh of the Dead
who will never again know life and warmth. Yet her face has a strangely sweet
and gentle appearance. There is something about her that resembles a
Renaissance painting..perhaps her classically chiseled features, her straight
nose, or her soft smile which gives her an expression of sweet melancholy.
Thick ringlet curls of auburn red cluster about her shoulders and spill down
her back, sparkling with metallic copper highlights which catch any passing
glimmer of light. The brilliance of her locks forms a striking contrast to the
pallor of her countenance. Yet it is her eyes which most arrest the attention.
Large, soft amber shining with flecks of gold, they seem to hold an
unfathomable immensity of pain, loss and sorrow which only a Lost Soul could
ever know or endure. Yet they also shine proudly with defiant and indomitable
strength of Will, as of one who eternally refuses to abandon hope, even in
Hell. It is almost painful to meet her gaze, were it not for the caring and
compassionate expression it usually holds. 
The woman's form seems wasted as with a long and incurable illness, the marks
of her suffering evident in the languid pallor of her skin and the hollowness
of her face. She seems like one whose very being is made out of fragile glass
which has been shattered into a million pieces with sharp, {painful, broken
edges, held together only by sheer force of will. And yet her pride burns
within her like an unquenchable flame; the look on her countenance is as of
one of those newly cast down from Heaven, maimed yet unconquered.
 She wears a long white dress which seems to be of a nineteenth-century style,
the filmy material draping about her form in flowing lines that give her a
cloudlike, evanescent appearance. Over her garments she wears a long white
shawl, covering her form in a shroudlike drapery which flutters behind her in
the wind.

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Charon
	A hulking, brutish, red skinned demon stands before you. Two large,
black, curved horns protrude from its forhead, adorned with mystical runes
carved into the bone. Two immense wings sticks out from its back, like a bat's.
Its cloven hooves stomp and clomp as it moves, leaving immense hoof prints in
the dirt.

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Voting Circle(#6705)

A large part of the ground is encircled with blood. It signifies the area
where the people are to enter the names of the candidates for the government
of Hell. Each person is allowed to write one name in the circle, and that name
will be used in the upcoming election. 

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Charon slowly stomps in from the Tunnels of Pandemonium. He stops in his
tracks as he suddenly finds himself upon a mountain top. Slowly turning his
head from side to side he spies Belial and Mehitabel off in the distance.

As the Lord of Shadows notices Mehitabel's approach, he too walks towards her.
Dark, pure infernal power begins to build around his body, arcing and dancing
across his flesh. On occassion, with a clap of thunder it shoots out to strike
the ground or something near. He is clearly preparing to use a great deal of
power, and one can almost -feel- the faint tremors which spread out from
around him. "Are you ready?"

Mehitabel gives a nod. "Yes, Your Eminence." She, too, is prepared to wield
her power, though its effects in her are quieter, a calm inner glow that
conceals the hidden intensity of her Human spirit.

In a gesture which one would -never- expect from one so arrogant and mighty as
Belial, he lowers himself onto his knees before the human. Even though it is
done to focus his own power, and not in subservence, it is still a thing none
would ever expect to see. He reaches his large hands towards Mehitabel, palms
up, and crackling with power. His flesh has begun to glow so brightly from
inside that it slowly turns -translucent-, the insides gleaming through. "So
let it be done, then."

Noticing the odd event taking place, the boatman of hell takes care to only
stand at a distance and watch, his hooves firmly planted upon the snow and ice.

Mehitabel nods her head to Belial, standing before him, her pale cloak flowing
around her, making her seem like yet another pinnacle within this icy realm.
She pauses for a moment, her eyes closing as she focuses her mind in
meditation, drawing deep within herself. Then, she extends her hands to
Belial, placing her own soft, white palms upon those of the Fallen Angel.

Intense, pure, unfocused Infernal Power flows through the touch of Belial as
he holds Mehitabel's hands in his own, and as his eyes fall shut to focus
himself further. The glow of his hands grows so intense that they are like
suns of pure white, and it spreads through the rest of his body, so that
nearly all of his flesh is translucent with the power. His once-black, now
shimmering wings spread open and high, encircling the human and himself. A
Shadow Minion of Belial appears from beneath a Mask of Omens, seeming himself
prepared and focused--though afraid.

The minion, a demon of fair visage, clad in tattooed manskin robes, kneels at
Belial's feet. You catch a glimpse of red orbs, filled with devotion, before
he closes his eyes, and murmurs, "As you will, my lord."

Mehitabel turns her head slightly to acknowledge the minion's presence,
observing him in the corner of her eye. Then, focusing on Belial, she begins a
low humming chant, its rolling cadence suggesting the Tibetan heights which
bear a distant analog to this frozen realm.

There is a visible bending and twisting in the very fabric of Hell surrounding
the joined two as the glow from Belial's hands passes through his touch into
the body of Mehitabel. He is silent, focusing the power of his will to aide
her in defeating the power of his own spirit.

Mehitabel continues her chant, the words now becoming recognizable in the
common language of Hell. "Now is the time for Change. For the past to be put
aside, the old to be renewed. For the soul to be reshaped.." Her amber eyes
glow with a golden hue, like that of the Wastelands' sky, as she stares into
the Demon's own. "Are you, O Belial, prepared to leave behind the sins of the
past, and start anew...Unchosen?"

"I am ready." says the angelic voice of the Baron, "To have washed away the
sins of the past and begin anew." His large hands tighten around the hands of
the human woman, and his jaw clenches shut, prepared and ready.

The Shadow Minion kneels on the ice, with nary a tremor, though frost is
beginning to form on the edges of his clothing.

"Then let it be so." A wave of energy, pure white as the untouched snows
around her, rushes from within the woman's soul, enveloping her form in a
blazing nimbus.
The power flows into the joined hands of the pair, meeting with
Belial's own in a single knot of radiance, as she prepares to draw the Demon
Lord's sins out of his body and spirit..

The Shadow Minion jerks back as if struck. Ice melts, runs down his robe. A
pool of water forms around the trio, hissing and steaming.

The minion's teeth grate, and a low growl escapes between his lips. The air
shudders around the Lost Soul and the Baron. The balance of Hell itself seems
to tilt.

Belial's body flinches and some of the intensely bright glimmering fades, a
shock running through his spirit as some of his Sins pass free from him. He's
not used to being less-damned.

Mehitabel's power pours into Belial's kneeling form as she concentrates, and,
suddenly, a bolt of energy leaps from their joined hands to the Minion,
striking and entering his body like an electric current. Yet, the ritual is
not yet done, it seems. Mehitabel continues to chant, sweat flowing down her
face despite the unearthly cold of the surroundings, her visage stern as she
wields her mighty effort.

More of the glow leaves the Baron of Hell, his skin once more slowly becoming
opaque as he nearly -trembles-. His breathing becomes labored and his wings
fold back around onto his back.

Ice CRACKS! with a thunderous retort as the weight of Damnation passes
over it, settling into the tiny figure of the Shadow Minion with a jolt. He
bites of a shriek, and clutches himself in an effort to keep the burden of sin
from breaking him.

<<< Armageddon Hell Emit >>> The ether trembles. To those sensitive to the
currents of Hell, a new wind stirs...something has changed.

Charon growls deeply and frowns at the sight of the Prince of Temptation
willingly leaving behind damnation.

Snow shakes loose from the mountaintop...gathering momentum...

Stress shows on Mehitabel's visage also, but she doesn't remit her efforts,
her chant continuing to flow unbroken despite her strained breathing.
Snowflakes melt and dissolve with a hiss the moment they touch her skin,
clothes or hair, so intense is the arcane power radiating from her being.

The Shadow Minion crumples. Snow steams and melts. He drops out of sight as
the "ground" drops out from under him. The mountain shivers, shaking more snow
and ice free. Half the mountainside seems to slide free...booming down the
slope in a white storm.

Belial tightens his hands even tighter around the woman's hands, clingint to
her almost as his body shudders with revlusion and pain. He clenches his jaw
and forces himself to remain focused and continue, ignoring the surroundings.

Mehitabel is also trembling now..her pale white form seems even more drained
and wasted than it ever has before. Yet, the power continues to pour out of
her, as her spirit reaches within Belial's to pull forth the last vestiges and
dregs of Sin.

Charon crouches down and braces himself as the mountain around him crumbles
apart. Still being either unnoticed or ignored by Belial and Mehitabel, he
slowly backs off towards the Tunnels of Pandemonium.

The last of the sins are wrenched free of Belial, and shoot unerringly into
the body of the Shadow Minion. He gasps, then yells out in horror. Millenia of
damnation stress his veins beyond bearing, and they burst. Bright demon blood
stains the snow. The Minion coughs out his lungs and collapses under the snow.
Dark infernal rivulets carve paths through the snow, seeking a new home.

Belial feels the lack of sin in his soul, and lets out a hideous growl,

"Now..remove it..the Mark... /hurry/!" his eyes look up to Mehitabel, the glow
in his body completely gone now, and he looks... almost /frail/. "Hurry."

Finally, the mystic energies begin to dim and fade from around the Demon Lord
and Lost Soul. A long sigh escapes Mehitabel's lips, her hands going limp in
Belial's, and she barely notices the cry and collapse of the Minion. Even she
is somewhat shaken by the depths of sin and evil that have poured through her
hands as she cleansed them from the Demon Lord. Yet, she takes but a moment to
recover before she begins the ritual's next phase, at the Demon's demand.

Charon stops and revels in the sudden outburst of sinful energy that was
released from Belial only moments ago. His lidless eyes glance at the still
body of the minion for a brief moment before once again focusing his attention
upon the ritual.

Mehitabel withdraws her hands from Belial's, and makes a motion of wiping them
together, as if washing off an invisible stain. Then, her chest heaves as she
catches a deep breath, preparing for another round of chanting. A new tune now
issues from her pale lips, her voice now hoarse and slightly cracked, but her
Will unyielding. "O Belial, I now release you from the Damnation of the
Fallen, from the Curse of Jehovah, from the seals of the Pit. May your spirit
rise and be free, bound no more to this Realm, numbered no more in the Great
War." She extends one frail hand towards the Demon's forehead..

The devastated body of the Shadow Minion just lies there. Snow has begun
reforming around it. Veins of dark red pulse in the ice, carrying sin to the
hungry mouths that lurk beneath the surface everywhere in Hell.

Belial focuses and feels that his mark has in fact -not- been removed, and
looks up to Mehitabel with urgency, and anger in his eyes. He reaches out try
and take hold of one of her hands again, squeezing rather hard if she permits
him to take it. He says slowly, "Hurry, or you may have to begin again."

The newly sheered surface of snow downslope stirs. Something living underneath
the cold wakes, tasting blood and damnation. Something with eyes of ice and
fangs of rock.

Mehitabel seems not to notice as Belial squeezes her free hand, as the other
one is still poised upon his forehead, the fingers lightly touching the
Demon's face in the spot just above and between the eyes. She grits her teeth
and gives a single nod to Belial's words, then recommences her eerie chant.
Her hand moves in a gesture of wiping, washing, erasing...

Mehitabel's hand finally drops from Belial's forehead, and she takes another
deep, weary breath, exhausted. After a moment, she focuses her eyes on the
Demon again. "You are free..." she says in a soft whisper.

Belial stumbles up, shakily, lookinf frail and weak after that.. He stumbles
back, and suddenly his spirit flares brightly within him.. yet different. No
more does it hold the infernal power... Space and reality warps around the
Baron, and he looks around... The glow from his spirit envelops him and sucks
him down into himself.. as if imploding.. pulling him elsewhere.. the Baron is
Gone.

Mehitabel takes a step backwards away from the implosion as it engulfs Belial.
A wry smile comes to her tired face as she notes that he didn't even bother to
say goodbye before leaving. She reaches to smooth her hair and garments, a
feeling of quiet satisfaction infusing her, despite her weariness, at a job
well done.

Cold eyes look upslope, almost invisible in the icy realm.

Charon slowly stands up, still frowning.

Flurries of blood-splattered snow spread, diffusing the concentration of sin
that once was Belial.

Mehitabel lets out another sigh, then pauses to take a look about the
surroundings before she starts up the trail. Her eyes take in the fallen
minion, the blood-stained snow, and the aftereffects of the avalanche. Slowly,
she turns about, scanning the area..

As Mehitabel notes the presence of Charon, she simply offers him a nod of her
head, seeing no need to go into an explanation of her recent activities.

Charon ignores the Lost Soul's nod, his gaze focused upon the minion. With a
small grin and quiet chuckle he strides over to the minion's body, his hooves
leaving large prints in the snow and ice.

The Shadow Minion lies in a deep depression in the snow and ice, a few yards
down the mountain from Mehitabel. Dark frost covers his broken body.

A distantly troubled look haunts Mehitabel's eyes as she perceives not only
the physical stains, but a deeper layer of Sin tainting the realm's fabric..
which will probably be around for a long time.
She remains standing quietly by as Charon approaches the dead minion. It is
not her place, usually, to interfere in the actions of one Demon towards
another. She watches, nevertheless, a drift of sprinkled snow beginning to
form on her cloak now that her power is no longer burning it away.

Charon reaches down into the depression and hauls the body out. "Such a
waste." he says.

Mehitabel gives a quiet nod. "Perhaps. He gave his life for his Master." Her
tone is neutral, neither judging nor approving.

Charon suddenly turns his head to glare at Mehitabel, his grip on the body
tightening. "Silence you pitiful worm! I told you spy on him, not..." he roars
at Mehitabel, the last of his sentence trailing off into nothing. He shakes
his head as if to clear it of some day dream.

A slight frown passes over Mehitabel's face as Charon touches the dead Demon,
although she makes no move to interfere. "The Baron's sins are still active
here.." she informs him in her quiet voice. "If you touch that, you will taint
yourself."

Perhaps 'taint' is something of an understatement..

Charon looks down at the body clutched in his hand and drops it back down in
the hole quickly. "Yes." he mumbles and begins to fill the hole in with snow
and ice, using his hooves to fill it in.

As if approving of your idea, Mehitabel joins you, quietly dropping chunks of
the hard-frozen snow into the Minion's hollow grave.

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A letter to the Hierarchy of Hell:
Date/Time: Thu Mar 11 17:29:20 1999        Size: 1291 Bytes
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A letter is delivered to each of you, by way of one of the Shadow Minions of
the Baron of Hell....

Belial is no more. The Baron is no more. The Lord of Shadows is no more. I
have served Hell loyally sine the dawn of time, and now it comes to pass that
I shall tend to my own Agenda's for a time. Do not seek me, to not look for
me, do not question my absense. All but the most loyal, highest of My Minions
shall reveal themselves to you. I hold no sway over you, do not consider me a
threat... because if you do, I may one day become one.


	--Belial.

OOC: Belial, as a character, is now retired. He will very likely never return
to IC play. He has gone Unchosen, and is stuck in Limbo. His entire Spy
Network, the Minions of Belial, are going to reveal themselves to Lysidious to
have/control/rule. If Murmur says they wouldn't rebel agaisnt that, but they
wouldn't IMHO.
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