DragonRage

"I don't think we can know that unless I try," Lexiel muses, "But you wouldn't let a physical wound fester. If it becomes infected and choked with disease, you open it and let it drain. You release the corruption so it can heal. I do not know if mental wounds work in the same way, but... I think I would like to be free. Or more free, anyway. I doubt it is possible to completely circumvent my restrictions, and I am not sure I trust myself with that much power. I don't think I was worthy of it before, so unless getting the stuffing beat from me up and down the multiverse has changed that..."

"I could consider that the greater good of the multiverse supersedes any other requirements of law and order," Lexiel states, "However, the last time I did that it drove me homocidally insane and I bombarded a heavily populated, urban area with a meteor-summoning spell because it contained a lot of people trying to kill us alongside the innocents. If Visrii hadn't destroyed the meteors before they could flatten the city, I would have been the direct cause of countless innocent deaths. One way or another, this needs to be dealt with. Laver is right about that much. If I remain in this state, I will go insane. I do not believe, were I allowed to choose between right and wrong, or even just to prioritize one evil over another, that I would make amoral decisions. However, in my current state the possibility that I would make poor choices is not one I can entertain. ...On the positive side, would it make your job easier that I would not be attempting to resist your modification of the binding? I've never summoned an unwilling servant, but my understanding of the art is that a lot of the effort goes into overriding a struggling subject. "And please do not cut those until we know more. ...If what you say is true, Laver, some of those could be my friends. I do not have very many of those, and were I to lose my connection to them I have little doubt I would Fall here and now."

Lexiel looks blankly at Marisa, "If I desired the contents of your purse at this time I would attempt to purchase them from you with some of the gold I have on hand. I... Oh, that is most odd. I can conceptualize the idea of someone in this room mugging you, but the moment I attempt to insert myself into this hypothetical scenario it cuts off like someone snuffing a candle. It... seems to do the same for anything I would consider conduct unbecoming of an Archangel. That is so weird. It's like a circuit breaker for my imagination. Oh, and I don't think there was a council. None I was invited to, at any rate. I'd say it sounds like a good idea, though, except we'd have to invite Nicol Bolas and Sorin Markov or they'd invite themselves, and I'd rather not be in the same room as them. I think I'd be compelled to try to arrest them, and that would not end well."

Lexiel considers this for an awkwardly long pause. "If your purse contained dangerous substances that you were adamant about mis-handling, and it was not illegal in this area to steal it, I could do so. I haven't cut a purse in almost forty years, though, so I'm probably too rusty to pull it off."

Lexiel chuckles humorlessly, "That's probably the hundreds of thousands dead when the Eldrazi attacked Zendikar and kicked my ass to do it. And the millions dead when the Phyrexians compleated the plane of Mirrodin and kicked my ass to do it. And the best friends I ever had, who Reaper killed over my dead body. Only reason I'm even still here is Doctor Zeigler's unmatched medical skill. Sometimes I wonder why she bothered. Maybe someone competent would come along if they didn't think I was handling the latest crisis. Someone who doesn't fail everyone they try to protect."

"You know how Bant makes virtuous people into angels if they martyr themselves?" Lexiel asks, "That's how I became an angel. Wasn't exactly virtuous before, but since I'd never committed crimes on Bant, the plane thought I was innocent as a newborn baby and made me a frakking Archangel just because I couldn't let a demon eat a school full of kids. That there's a binding; that'd make a lot of sense. Most Bantian angels make the stick up my butt seem small and flexible, and I don't seem to be able to avoid the heroic choice now. Still, probably not a great idea to directly pit anyone's magic against the power of an entire plane."

"No, no, tell her what you know," Lexiel says, "Marisa needs to know everything we can give her if she's to have much chance of success. I'll fill in any gaps; I'm curious what an outside observer got from my life's story. Eh? What're you looking at, kid? Never seen someone with wings before? Or is it that guy," She points at Edmond, who also has a rather distinctive appearance, "And his power armor?"

"These people have spells of purification the likes of which I've never seen before," Lexiel says excitedly, clearly very enthused about this, "I didn't think it was possible to extract the oil, or know I had any inside me, but this priestess named Izumi just slapped an enchanted seal on me and pulled it right out. Then we burned it. It did help I think, but not enough. Still, imagine what we could do with a spell like that! I could go back to Mirrodin, and save the refugees! We could cure their Phyrexian corruption, and take them away from that doomed place in this castle! ...I might not have failed them after all."

"Fascinating. Magical robotics?" Alexandria muses, running her scanners over the other synthetic, "I do hope you are compensating her adequately for her services. I will not condone slavery."

Lexiel's face runs through a gauntlet of emotions before settling into a deliberately neutral position, drawing her wings around her. Her aura pulses in a way that probably signals irritation, but really just makes everyone feel even better than before. "...You know what, Marisa? You're right. NOT about the food. But that really isn't the point here. Yes, I was blind in my commitment to the Boros. Your actions deserved, at most, a night in the drunk tank and I let them try to ship you off to the Azorius anyway because my superiors thought it the correct choice. That wasn't the first time I've followed the letter of the law, despite knowing the spirit calls for something different, or the last. I- I think there's something very wrong with me, Marisa. I think I might be Falling, and I don't need to tell you why that would be bad. It is almost like my perception of what is just in the moment defines my entire moral compass... and to set it askew has become easier and easier. I don't like you. You don't like me. That may never change. But you are better at this sort of thing than anyone I have met. You and I both know that darkness and evil are always not one and the same, but the darkness I am Falling towards..." Lexiel goes silent and rigid, gasping for breath as a memory overcomes her. The foul stench of decay and gunpowder stomping closer, overwhelming the bloody smell and pained gasps of some of her closest friends. A warm barrel touching her forehead; a gravelly voice ripping through the pain of four slug-pierced wings. "You're no Angela. But I've always enjoyed shooting angels. Until I get to her, you'll do. Die." Chest torn! Blood spilling! "DIE." Blazing lines through her guts, something wet and slithery spilling out. Some traitorous corner of her mind relieved that at least she wouldn't have to listen to her friends going first. "DIE!" Lexiel's rifle clatters to the floor from numb fingers, as she clasps her hands into her tabard hard enough to rip the sturdy fabric. Sharp, remembered pain pierces her skull, followed by darkness she hadn't felt since that day. Even after Kozilek blinded her, the world became white, blotted out by the light of her halo. Not dark; never dark. Darkness is the grave. Lexiel manages to turn her physical fall into a stumble that ends with her on one knee before Marisa, head bowed. "I beg of you; if there is more to your character than that of the demon-binding petty criminal you showed me those years ago on Ravnica, demonstrate it. Prove me wrong." The angel's aura turns softer, a quiet, melancholy, soothing tone.

"Ow!" Lexiel exclaims as the banishing spell sweeps over her, trying in vain to shake off the sensation. "Urza's bones that stings like bloatfly bites everywhere! Donkey-loving, maggot-infested, ogre-brained son of a rot farmer! Ow! What the heck was that?" It occurs to Morgan that perhaps the banishing spell did work after all; but wasn't anywhere near strong enough to get rid of her. "Come on, I literally just said I wasn't going to harm you, and you're trying to banish me to the aether? I- Wait... As my old friend Lena would say, I sense a disturbance in the Force." Lexiel takes a deep breath in, and her face twists with disgust. "Marisa! I thought I smelled the dulcet stench of cheap hair dye and tea around here somewhere. Ah, a Rakdos witch and a banish-happy blue mage. All we need now is Jace Beleren to show his pasty mug, and my day will be complete."

"You know, I rather wish I knew that," Alexandria muses wistfullly, "However, my creators programmed me to believe I was a human senator who had died of a rare and incurable genetic condition a few months before, and covered me in a sort of synthetic skin. I did not even realize I wasn't one of you until three years later, when someone attempted to assassinate me and their crossbow bolt bounced off. I have no idea what the base elements of my mind are; I can't exactly take out my Blue Box and have a look at my operating system for clues. I do like having my internal components inside me. However, I do know that there were humans on the team that originally built me. Does that answer your question?"

"Good. You're educated. That makes things easier," Alexandria blows air out of her vents in an approximation of a gusty sigh that has absolutely nothing to do with anything on her face. "The Theory of Parallel Worlds is true. Every realm of fiction and imagination exists, and countless more besides. Oh, and it gets worse. The Nameless Ones, largely incomprehensible creatures that can exist in the space between universes, have decided they do not wish to remain in their homes anymore, and are invading worlds wherever they can find a way in. Someone is attempting to pull heroes from as many worlds as they can get to oppose these incursions. It usually succeeds in getting a hero, and always in getting someone who is willing and able to fight for the right of all worlds and peoples to continue existing. If you are familiar with the works of HP Lovecraft you likely have a good idea of what we face."

Alexandria turns around at the sounds of the newcomer's arrival, and steps slowly, deliberately into better lighting, which scatters off her bright finish as internal pieces of her eyes rotate and slide about, adjusting them to look at him. "Ah, another newcomer. We seem to be getting a lot of those lately. Greetings. I am Alexandria, Primus Councillor, and for lack of a more qualified individual after the job this vessel's chief engineer. You are currently, to my understanding, nowhere at all, inside a vehicle that has yet to be named anything other than 'the castle'. I do hope we can agree on something more memorable in the future. "Furthermore, I believe you are about to suffer a rather nasty shock. If you are prone to stress-induced rebooting, I suggest you sit down. Oh, that's not the right term... Fainting! That's what you meat creatures call it. Anyway, tell me, what do you know about the theory of parallel worlds?"

Whether it's fortunate or not remains to be seen, but Lexiel has a borderline-superhuman sense of hearing. Morgan and Edmond are talking right outside the room she's in, and she hears every word they say despite the door between them. She's never been one to avoid confrontations, and would rather not leave potential problems to sit around like spellbombs waiting for someone to step on. So, she opens the door and steps out behind Edmond. Tall? Check! Lexiel's almost six feet tall. Spear? Check! A bayoneted rifle is close enough for government work! White clothes? Check! She's still wearing her Boros tabard over her armor, a white garment emblazoned with the Boros guild's signet. Under that is a black trench coat and several bandoleers of bronze-capped vials full of blue liquid, but she is wearing white. Two pairs of very feathery, black, red, and white wings? Check! She's also got a warmly glowing halo wrapping around her head at eye height, and a holy aura that subtly fills the room with barely-audible music, making everyone feel invigorated, inspired, and slightly faster. "And what exactly are you planning to do once you find me, sir Morgan?" Lexiel asks, the hint of bite she tries to inject into her words almost completely drowned out by her rather musical voice and noticeable Ravnican (sounds like Ukrainian) accent. "Are you saying you want me to hunt you down? Don't think I've ever had that happen before. Well, sorry for ruining your plans, but unless you've got some crimes you'd like to confess I've got no reason to come after you. Even if you do want to turn Guildpact's Evidence I can't do anything more severe than keeping you from skipping bail without a thorough investigation and evidence of actual wrongdoing. And if you're doing it because you're like that creepy Orzhov banker who kept getting himself arrested because he had a thing for women with wings, I'm really not interested," She purses her lips with distaste and shudders, her feathers whispering over themselves as they respond to the motion. "I can't say for certain, but it sounds to me like the angels you've met before were suffering from Azor's Blinkers. Too much letter of the law, and not enough spirit. It can happen to the best of us." And her expression and tone make it clear she's speaking from personal experience there.

Other people don't seem to be retreating. Cobalt might not be very confident in his ability to fight a Lairon, but he absolutely refuses to be anyone but the last person out, and he knows he can take a hit better than any of these humans, especially from another of his species. So he uses Harden again, positions himself between the Lairon duplicate and the other people, and digs his stubby legs in.

"And now you're lying... Or not exactly lying but concealing..." Samantha rubs her temples and sighs, a few golden sparks shooting up from the points of contact, "Ow! No! Keep it down, keep it down, okaygood. Sorry, sorry. Can't exactly complain about someone else keeping secrets. Isn't like I've given a lot of people my full story either. Just... Swear to me that you can't turn into a giant green rage monster when you get peeved, please. That's not the only thing that can cause a double signature, buuut it's definitely the most, uh, troublesome version I've met. Um, I think we're here because somebody's unleashed Lovecraftian monsters that can travel between worlds, and somebody else is recruiting heroes to stop it. My, uh, sponsor put my name forward I think."

"Marisa? She's a criminal, or she was when I busted her. I'm nowhere near my jurisdiction right now, and even if we were she's served her time for what I actually can prove she did," Lexiel states, "I doubt I'll ever like her, but I won't start anything unless she does. Still, if you want to warn her, go ahead. I'd rather not be masticated by one of her demon summons today."

"Well of course there's no hype! They gave us a terrible song and no rehearsal time," Lucinda snaps, momentarily spacing on the rest of the situation, "If you wanted a good- wait, die? Or fight that? That is flying! And wearing armor! We punch that, whoever's inside is just going to laugh!" Lucinda's combat gear completely fails to appear because she doesn't know it exists, or believe she's got any business fighting this thing. "This is insane! You're insane! It's the freaking space age and you're fighting with knives?! What the f- heck kind of anime- Wait a sec. This is a publicity stunt, isn't it! Well screw you and your candid camera! This isn't funny!" Lucinda uses her basic defense, and starts looking for hidden cameras, so she can tell the people behind them what she really thinks of this situation.

I'm a veteran of 3.5 and I do like to play D&D. But if we're using pre-mades, count me out. 5e is restrictive enough already.

Lexiel finds an exit, calls her dragon, and invites everyone to join her in getting the fuck out.

Cobalt prepares to retreat when it's time. One Ditto is easy enough, but he's not confident in his ability to wait out the limited endurance of this many ditto at once.

"Hello," Samantha says awkwardly, "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but... are there two of you? I have to ask because I can feel two sets of emotions from you, and the last guy like that... well, you wouldn't like him when he's angry. And the second set just left. Is there someone invisible in here?" She tenses up a bit at that, like she's expecting to get jumped by an invisible person at any moment.

Lucinda looked almost completely expressionless, and stiff as a board with nerves, right up until the curtains open. Then a change sweeps over her, and it's like someone completely different strides out onto stage. She follows the motions of the dance very with excellent accuracy and technique, considering how little forewarning everyone had about what the group would be performing, and plucks out a simple harmony to the song on the guitar none of you have ever seen her without that at least doesn't make the piece sound worse. In fact, since none of you saw her between when you were told which song to perform and a few minutes before showtime, it's not a bad bet she spent the whole time locked in her dressing room practicing it. Because she did. But while her performance is technically excellent, a certain spark seems to be missing. Her smile, if you look closely, seems pasted on. Her movements are a bit mechanical, and she gives a subtle impression of just going through the motions by rote. There's no passion to her performance, and it shows. Lucinda, inside her facade, is mostly just relieved. "Bon Bon Voyage" is far from the worst choice the producers could have made. The dance isn't too complex, the instrumental is insultingly basic even if it makes her feel like she's bingeing on sugar straight from the package, and if she pretends hard enough she can imagine she's playing a Beatles song instead. Nope, bad idea, that was a few bars of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand." Focus on the music you're playing, and grin and bear it. Grin and bear it, Lucinda. There's far worse starting venues out there, and once you make a name for yourself you can leave this crummy music far behind.

Lexiel curb stomps an available target on her way out, and starts gathering mana to summon a ride out assuming there isn't a more subtle option available.