One early morning in Truce, a haggard figure could be seen by the few yet awake slowly making its way through the city gates. The sun was only just rising, but the light was just enough to show the pumkin-headed traveler barely avoiding falling with every other staggering step.

Clutching its tome tightly to it with chipped skeletal hands, it made it maybe twenty steps into town before collapsing face-first onto the road.

It said nothing. It did not even cry for help, if it could. Yet it still continued to claw its way forward, dragging its heavily injured body with its one free hand.

Its chain whip, undone from its coil in the fall, added light metallic chimes to the blowing wind as it too was dragged against the stone.

Seemingly to push itself on, a soft mutter finally came from it.

"If I can just make it...just a little more...I can rest...and then...surely...I will be..."

Yet that seemed to be the last it could muster. It finally collapsed completely, apparently unconscious, on the way to the fountain square.

In the wake of recent events, Jules had only been saddled with more questions than answers (which is only to assume he'd been given any answers, lately), and his inability to return to the Holyland meant that he would have to find temporary accommodations elsewhere while he figure out a resolution to that problem. Rabite Forest was probably off limits because of his spat with Alyss, so it seemed as though Truce was the mainstay option at this time. It just so happened, then, that this young man would find his way into the city of Truce on this particular morning, and stumble upon this passed-out Pumpkinhead within the city streets. Not typically being one to ignore bodies lying in the road or dirt, Jules' concern peaked as he hurried over to the fallen one, calling out some kind of command word as he knelt down.

As if being called, a burst of tiny white lights scattered about the air as a small white flame-shaped creature appeared in the air nearby. This creature glanced at Jules with tiny blue eyes embedded within the flame-shape's center, then at the body on the ground, and gave a whole-body nod as if it understood. Flickering flames of white light parted from and dissolved from its body as it floated in the air, waiting for further instruction.

The pumpkinhead, on closer inspection, is the same one Jules had met a few days before - Merciviant. It looked as if it had been in either a nasty fight or several in a row, with its skeletal hands damaged and its cloak and robes torn in places to reveal gashes on its small frame.

A black substance could be seen glistening in them, saplike in texture, with an oddly ominous shine to it.

Its head looked unusually dry as well...almost as if it was withering.

Even in unconsciousness, it clutches its tome very tightly. Notably, said book is completely undamaged despite the wear and tear on its other equipment, despite it not having any sort of protection.

Jules blinks in surprise, and while he hasn't exactly seen a lot of people up close, he was at least keen enough to have recognized this particular Pumpkinhead from one of his earlier encounters. It was the same one Alyss had been smitten with, in her oddly-endearing sort of way. What the heck had happened to it?

Rather than fuss about the details, Jules stood up and stepped back, holding his hand outward toward the injured being. A soft white light began to manifest in his hand, glowing in intensity over a span of several seconds. Strands of mana coalesced and drew forth from the interior power that made him one of the Mana Tribe, empowering his magic as he sought to bring about a healing spell in the hopes that it would at least provide closure of the most literal sense to the wounds upon Merciviant's body.

Taking its cue, the white flamelet floats on over near Jules' outstretched hand, and sparkles of white light begin to dance in the air around it, bolstering Jules' spell with its own light-based power that made it the mana elemental that it was.

Merciviant's body shfits slightly as its wounds slowly begin to heal, to an extent. At the very least, the wounds visible through the tears begin to close, and the eerie black substance is no longer visible. Its hands remain damaged and may need more specific care, but that can likely wait.

For a moment, it seems to try to get up, but falls back down. It of course doesn't breathe, but its movements are still labored.

It's not entirely clear if it's actually conscious yet, either.

Jules allows the magic to process for longer than is probably needed, if only because he wasn't exactly sure if what he was doing made any impact or not and, if it was, wanted to err on the side of more versus less. Eventually, though, the glow recedes from his hand, which lowers back to his side. He frowns a little bit upon witnessing the slight bit of movement, rubbing three of his fingers together not unlike some kind of post-casting tic or twitch. He glances down at the floating ball of white fire nearby, and exhales through his nose. "My thanks," he said. "You might have theirs, too, if we're lucky."

The light elemental gradually stops emitting sparkles along the same lines that Jules' spell concludes, and it seems to hover in a small circle for a moment at Jules' words, right before disappearing in a burst of those same white sparkles.

Jules kneels down one more, putting a hand on what he would assume is one of the Pumpkinhead's shoulders. "Can you speak?" he asks, quietly but clearly. "What happened?"

Merciviant slightly shifts about, murmuring quietly. It seems to be in a haze as it struggles to stay awake, but does manage an answer.

"C-contract...mistake...please, water..."

It falls silent again. It is not 'bleeding' anymore, but seems to be stabilized at the moment.

It takes a second to register, probably because he's focusing too much on the wrong words in that otherwise-brief request, but when he does realize what's being asked, Jules quickly retrieves a waterskin from the satchel at his side, uncapping it and then... hesitating. Its head was a giant pumpkin... how did 'drinking' actually even work? There's just a little bit of panic behind his eyes as he tries to determine what he's supposed to do about this, like a medic put out in the field with only a barely-required amount of training beforehand. Throwing caution aside, he decides to do what he would've considered the next best thing: he carefully empties some of the water over the surface of the pumpkin's gourd, having at least the observation that it seemed a little more shriveled than it probably ought to be. He had absolutely no idea how effective this would or wouldn't be, but he would also fight anyone who called him out for at least trying.

A sigh-like sound emerges from Merciviant, and its body gradually seems to loosen up. Its head slowly seems to be absorbing the water directly into it, instead of the roots a typical gourd would use. Some slides down around to its face and into its carved, jagged mouth, and an unmistakable swallowing sound can be heard.

The candlelight returns to Merciviant's one eye, and it darts around swiftly before seeming to focus on Jules' face.

Very softly, Merciviant thanks him before the light goes out again. It seems to be in some state of rest.

From the looks of the damage to its outfit and whip, whatever it was fighting was made of something fierce. The edge of the whip's links are dulled, and the patterns of the tears on its cloak suggest either blades or large claws...

Closing up his waterskin after seeing that it seemed to have some semblance of a positive effect, Jules was still not really in any better of a position now than he was just a few minutes ago. He wasn't trying to play the hero and he didn't actually know what he was doing, and he also didn't really want to just leave Merciviant there in the street. But what was he supposed to do? He barely knew anything about this place outside of a few key locations, as most of his time had been spent in Rabite Forest with Alyss and her herd. An Inn would be a good idea, but did they even have one of those here?

He sighed, looking back down at the silent figure of the Pumpkinhead. He was going to need a freaking vacation once he finally got back to the Holyland.

Without really knowing what else he could actually do, he opted to simply stay with the Pumpkinhead for the time being, hoping maybe someone else might come along and offer assistance on a know knowledgeable level than he possessed. He wasn't happy about any of this, but he wasn't an asshole, either. Not usually.

"...So. Here's where you went off to, fool."

A voice with an oddly metallic echo to it could suddenly be heard, yet it seemed to come from nowhere.

"You have the gall to steal one of my servants, and then the nerve to attempt the same contract on me? The arrogance. You may not be 'mortal', as such, but you are still beneath me."

A shape emerges from the ground a short distance away from the fallen summoner. It is humanoid in structure, though lean and with what appears to be a blood-red chitinous exoskeleton. Four bony arms are crossed at its chest, and on its shoulders was an almost human head, save for the red scales covering it and the tips of long fangs poking out from its lips. A golden crown was set atop its head, standing out conspicuously among its otherwise unadorned form.

With taloned feet it steps forward, swishing a long and rigid tail behind it in apparent annoyance.

"And at the end of it, you flee and seek refuge in a city of other such worms. Pathetic."

It breaks its gaze on the pumpkinhead's fallen yet now stirring form, looking to its benefactor instead, but with just as much contempt.

"I shall give you just one warning, mortal: leave this one to its fate and save yourself. It has transgressed in a realm it was not prepared for, and you should count yourself lucky that I restrict the consequences solely to it...for the time being."

Taken aback, Jules does, admittedly, back up a pace or so when this new... thing, appears. It was already pretty apparent that it wasn't friendly without the need for that harsh tone that came with it, and it really, honestly, and truthfully was not what he wanted to deal with right now. What in the actual hell was wrong with the Middle Realm? Why couldn't these people just enjoy... trees? Nature? Talking to neighbors on the way to the Sanctuary in the morning? They seemed like simple concepts to him, why did shit have to be so much more visceral, down here?

He got to his feet after a moment, the frown already on his face deepening just a bit. "I'm not sure what you're on about, but he's under my care, at the moment," Jules said, not hiding the fact that he's pretty frustrated at all of this. He wasn't even sure why he cared, honestly, because he kinda actually didn't. Not entirely. But also, he didn't like being talked down to, either, so that was a problem. "I'm going to have to suggest that you leave, because if he's going anywhere at all, it will be on his own two feet, once he recovers." At the same time, Jules made no move to defend himself, leaving the generic-looking longsword strapped into the holster at his side.

The creature gives a disdainful frown at Jules' response and uncrosses all four arms.

"Hopeless imbecile. This is exactly why you lot will never ascend beyond worms, blindly sifting through dirt. Your desires are muted. Think you I do not see it? You care not for this one. It is a waste of your time and effort to see to others...especially those that have nothing to offer.

And I can assure you, lesser one, that this fool deserves more than what I have in store for it. So, as a suggestion.
As your kind are wont to say..."

It leans very close to Jules, its breath odorless yet carrying a numbing feeling to it.

"Piss off."

He had, actually, spent a lot of time playing in the dirt when he was little. Most of his friends had. It was kind of expected, playing outside when the whole forest was your playground.

Jules exhaled again through his nose. He didn't have even a rough idea what his chances were, if he engaged in this. He wasn't a fighter. He wasn't a mage. Hell, he was barely a scout, at best. Being one of the Mana Tribe didn't bestow unto him any godlike or divine powers like so many people probably believed it did. He was a regular person, just a mortal man like anyone else. He could talk to spirits and ask them for help, and that was really the biggest thing that set him apart from anyone else below the Holyland.

He allowed himself a glance toward the northwest, for the briefest of moments, then back at this thing that was probably going to break him in half, before they were done. At that moment, his only real regret was that he hadn't gotten a chance to apologize to Alyss.

But maybe it was better this way.

And so, in what would probably end up being one of the dumbest things he's done to date, he did not actually 'piss off,' and instead pivoted, bringing his foot around in something that was not quite a reverse roundhouse, but also not quite a side kick, either, aiming to simply try and put some distance between him and the weird little shit that decided it was going to make his life worse than it already had been, these last few days. Because, hell, why not? He puts a good deal of power into that kick, regardless, bracing himself on one leg as he does so.

Amazingly, the creature made no effort to dodge, and it seemed that it either could not...or would not.

The raucus laughter implied the latter as it was kicked back.

"Ahahaha...excellent. THAT is what I like to see. If you can't be true to your desires and ambitions, you can at least struggle for the hopeless life you lot cling to."

Opening its clawed hands on all four arms and taking a relaxed stance, its disdainful frown changed to a cruel smirk.

"How fitting that my arrival on this plane is met with a willing blood sacrifice, besides."

It charges at Jules, launching itself through the air simply by springing forward on one foot, aiming to grab him with all four hands at once. One of them very clearly going for his face, the others less carefully aimed.

Jules stood back upon his own two feet, poising himself for whatever follow-up attack was to be expected, but not at all looking like he was ready for it. He seemed to have already forgotten about the fact that this thing had four arms and probably should have expected that it would use them, and when it launches itself at him, he's kind of at a loss as far as how to react. The best he can do is to try and leap aside, but his lack of quick-thinking wouldn't normally give him the distance needed to clear the impending attack...

...except for the fact that a series of green lights suddenly showers down upon Jules just as the creature closes in, and a honeycomb-style barrier swiftly forms into place over Jules' front half, which has the effect of physically deflecting all four arms as they try to grasp at Jules and allowing him to leap back to safety. In the midst of this, a spray of separate green lights announces the arrival of a very small, tree-shaped maiden that floats in the air, hands on her tiny hips as she stares down this menacing beast that would dare assault her charge so brazenly.

He glances aside, allowing himself a faint smirk. "Couldn't have timed that any better, could you?" he snarked.

Repelled by the barrier and pushed back, the creature snarls.

"A mana spirit? I'd heard you lot were prevalent in this realm.
Far be it from me to intrude on the domain from another higher being...normally. But I see no 'high' here. Merely a lowly weed that should be culled with the rest!"

At this should, its fanged mouth opens wide as a grey mist surges forth at the spirit. As it moves, the air around it seems to distort and discolor...something is very clearly foul about the creature's breathing.

At the same time, one of its arms points at the barrier and shines before launching a barrage of bullet-shaped lights. The barrier seems to be resisting them, but it looks like the repeated strikes are having a weakening effect.

As if she were the leader of this defense and not Jules, Sylvan takes one hand off her hip and raises it upward, giving a tiny little gesture as her big green eyes (relative to her small stature, of course) narrow slightly.

The bullets of light hammer down on the barrier around Jules as he just kind of... cringes, under it, not really knowing what he's supposed to do or how to react. This is way beyond anything he was ever trained to handle, and the assault actually pushes him backward a bit, his boots scraping across the cobbles as he tries to stand against it.

With a burst of scintillating yellow sparkles, a chubby little creature with pale green skin suddenly appears next to Sylvan, and with little fanfare following it's arrival, spins in a short little circle in the air, the effect of which kicks up a localized gale that pushes backwards against the creature and the smog-like breath it is exhaling, attempting to keep it clear of their own vicinity.

And as if that wasn't enough, yet another burst of white sparkles beckons the arrival of the little white flamelet from earlier, floating right alongside Jules. It's body seems to expand somewhat, puffing up and outward as a dazzling ray of light suddenly forms in front of itself, concentrating into a focused beam of light-centric magic that careens toward the creature and its open maw.

Jules, unfortunately, can't bear visual witness all of these things going on around him in the rapid timespan in which they occur, as he's simply just hoping that the shield protecting him doesn't give out anytime soon, but the increasingly-smug look on his face tells anyone that he knows the cavalry has arrived, and that maybe being a member of the Mana Tribe has its perks, after all.

For the first time in the battle, the creature expresses pain as the wisp's beam of light blasts into its open mouth, letting out an anguished roar as it recoils and ceases its attack. Staggering backwards as one hand covers its now smoking mouth, it glares at the trio that repelled it.

"You...insolent lessers..."

It straightens its posture in a clear attempt to regain composure, yet the trembling anger in its metallic voice is clear.

"Were we in my domain, you would be erased in an instant. I enjoy a good brawl just as much as these fleshy barbarians do, but there is a limit...one you have crossed, the lot of you!"

In a strange tone, it begins rapidly chanting what sounds like a spell. A crimson aura begins to emanate from its body, flowing out into the air and around its feet, and it becomes clear a terrible power is being gathered...until it stops abruptly.

A very real gasp of pain finishes what may have been a disastrous intonation, and the tip of a spear can be seen just barely breaking through its skeletal chestplate, emerging all the way from the other side. The creature looks at the speartip and its cold eyes show a trace of shock.

"F...Furcas...you insubordinate ingrate...!"

The skeletal demon in question gave no verbal response, instead pushing the spear deeper and slightly twisting it.

Behind it stood the one who had collapsed to begin with, swaying slightly as if coming out of a daze.

"Have you had enough, Lord Asmodeus? Or shall we see how much this avatar of yours can truly endure against this realm's spirits?"

There was a clear coldness to its voice. Merciviant stared at the back of the creature now caught in a pincer attack that could full well be too much for it.

"If so, please allow us to oblige you. I dare say the stress relief tearing you to shreds would grant would be a fitting thanks and apology alike for those who aided me."

Yet again, surprise registers on Jules' face as the unexpected (but not at all unwelcome) occurs, and he stands up straight as the remaining strength of his barrier shorts out and disperses in a shorthand display of colorful lights. He seems wary, though, as despite being relieved that the Pumpkinhead he'd tended to seemed to be up and about again, he still wasn't completely sure who was friend and who was foe, yet. For all he knew, they could have been trading one adversary for another. It wouldn't have surprised him even a little bit. He doesn't know if he should say anything or not, so he chooses not to, simply bracing for whatever happens next.

Sylvan's eyes grow big, and she makes a frantic gesture in the air, throwing one of her arms to one side in a soundless display.

The white flamelet seems to understand something unheard, a command, perhaps, and promptly bursts into the nothingness from which it spawned, leaving behind a colorful shower of white lights in its wake.

Likewise, the chubby little character does a forward flip in the air upon which it floats, disappearing, too, in a brief shower of brilliant yellow sparkles.

The little tree spirit hovers in place within the air, taking on a much calmer demeanor than she had before, as if sensing that the danger was, if not gone, at least on its way out. Despite this, the expression on her face heavily implies that there's a lot more where that came from, if it came down to it.

The speared creature, apparently known as Asmodeus, sneers as its eyes dart around. Clearly gauging its odds and situation, the indignation at its apparent disrespect clearly got to it.

It focused on Sylvan, a stare of utter contempt flashing on its scaled face. Raising its lip in a snarl, it seemed ready to issue another threat...

...Only to slump its shoulders and sigh.

"...Well, what point is there in doing anything else, I suppose. I concede. As infuriating as this is, the sheer amount of time and effort to make another incarnation is...vexing. I yield to all of you."

Merciviant snapped its bony fingers. On this, Furcas unceremoniously and forcefully ripped his spear back out, resulting in a cry of pain from Asmodeus as it fell to one knee, gasping.

Merciviant stepped around and in front of the fallen creature, its tome open as it held a shimmering golden stone.

"Very good. Then am I to understand that my terms are accepted?"

"Yes, witch. But with an addendum. It is this avatar specifically that I submit to these terms. I will honor the agreement, but only in this form."

Merciviant nods.

"This is acceptable. I therefore seal our pact."

In clear annoyed resignation, Asmodeus closes its eyes and tilts its head downwards just the bare minimum to qualify as a bow.

"Demon King of Desire, Asmodeus of Lust...I bind you to my key, my Lemegeton. In gold I seal you, in Goetia I call upon you. Thy sigil I take upon my soul."

The demon seems frozen in place and begins to...melt. It seeps into a strange grey liquid and forms into a shape somewhat resembling a magic circle before seemingly evaporating. Merciviant closes its book and turns to look at Jules.

"My thanks, sincerely. Nevermind the success of this pact, I would not have survived if not for you and those spirits."

It takes a moment or three, but he does eventually easy up on his stance, giving a cautious sidelong glance back to Sylvan, then at Merciviant. "Is that... a common thing, for you?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head lightly. "Or for here, in general? I'm not going to pretend to understand what just happened, but that seemed really dangerous. I don't think I've ever seen anything like it."

The tree spirit floats on over to Jules, gesturing something to him with both hands and then indicating Merciviant, specifically, all the while being completely devoid of any sound.

His expression is unreadable for a second, and he gives a slight huff in Sylvan's direction. "I also wasn't the one hugging him, either," he said.
March 30, 2024

Merciviant takes a moment to answer, clearly mulling over how to word it.

"I cannot speak for the rest of this place, but in the case of my craft, yes, this is a regular risk. I had sought advice from Lord Asmodeus, the demon lord we just faced, but he took offense at my pact with Furcas, who is ordinarily at his beck and call. It was a mistake...but one I have learned a number of critical things from."

Merciviant looks at its damaged hands and just for a moment, the light in its eye has a shape that resembles a glare.

"Very critical. And among that, his power...I am a step closer. That is another thing I thank you for."

"Ah, well then," Jules said, looking at least a bit more at ease. "I guess I'm glad we could help. Was kind of a scare you gave us, there; finding bodies in the streets isn't exactly something I'm used to, where I come from." He pauses, knowing he's seen this particular Pumpkinhead before, but unable to remember any other details than appearance. "I know we've met before, but you'll have to forgive me for asking your name, again. It's been a rough few days."

Sylvan seems a bit pleased with the fact that Jules is specifically using 'us' instead of 'me', and floats on up a little further to quasi-perch on his head, her big green eyes shifting slightly toward the northwest.

Merciviant nods, its now rejuvenated head looking as if it had never gone without water in its entire existence.

"That is fine. So, once again - good evening and good day, my name is Merciviant."

It takes obvious note of the perching spirit and nods to her as well.

"Thank you again, as well. It is a pleasure to meet you, and I apologize for the trouble.

...Your party seems to be missing one, however?"

He winces noticeably, a pretty obvious look of guilt crossing over his features. "Yeah, Alyss is back home with the rest of her herd," he said. "I might have said some things while being emotional about other things, and she didn't take it too well." He glances northwest, the same direction Sylvan appeared to be looking (though he couldn't tell that, since she was on his noodle at the moment). "But yes, I'm glad you don't seem too worse for wear, Merciviant." He remembers something, then. "Oh, and you'll be happy to know that I have a few leads on whom I was looking for, that first time we met. Still in the dark on quite a few things, but there's at least a bit of light."

Sylvan, actually, turns back toward Merciviant and offers a tiny-armed wave as she is addressed. When Jules mentions his fight with Alyss, though, she glances down at the top of his head and folds her little arms, not unlike a mom who was annoyed with her kid doing dumb things for equally-dumb reasons.

"...I see. I am sorry to hear things went so poorly, but it is indeed good that you have a lead in your search. Ideally, the two of you could make up, but...I do know how difficult that can be. I have not had many of what I would call friends, myself, though that may change as I continue to make more contracts.

Truth be told, she had been on my mind, lately. I have not met many that react with such innocent wonder at my appearance alone. I am more used to it being unnerving for them."

As Merciviant continued to speak of the centaur mare in such a positive light, the little tree maiden seemed to grow more and more amused, eventually even bringing a tiny wooden hand to where her mouth would be (if she had one) as if to hide a grin that wasn't actually there. It was pretty obvious she knew what kind of impact this was having elsewhere.

The more Merciviant spoke of and commented on Alyss' perceived traits and previous interactions, the further Jules' face fell, and he wondered for a moment if the Pumpkinhead was doing it on purpose to drill home a point. "Yeah," he eventually said. "She has that going for her. She's a little... oblivious, I think, at times, but her heart's in the right place." He paused, briefly glancing aside at nothing. "Some people could probably stand to learn a few things from her, with me being one of them. But, anyway..." He straightens. "I'm sure we'll probably bump into each other again at some point, if you're going to be in town for awhile. I..." he starts to say something else, but catches himself and decides against it. "...nevermind," he said instead. "Will you be okay, from here?"

Merciviant watches the pair carefully, its unchanging expression continuing to be an odd fit for the situation.

"I shall be fine, yes. Weakened or no, I have a demon lord at my aid now. My studies and experiments shall continue, as will my contracts. I have many more to forge.

I will likely be around for a while yet, as a result. Next time...I shall be prepared.

As for you, are you sure there is nothing I can do to repay you? Even if it is just hearing out your troubles."

He shakes his head. "My troubles just kind of stem from the fact that I probably don't belong here," he said, possibly a little more than he intended. "Kind of feeling like a fish out of water, lately, with the problem that I know where the pond is, but it's gone and dried up on me. So I'm kind of stuck here for a little awhile longer, whether I wanted to leave or not." He shifts his posture slightly, putting the weight of one foot on the toe of that boot instead of flat. "Probably preaching to the choir after that close call you just had, but it gets to be pretty dangerous here, and it's not something I'm used to. My home is pretty... quiet."

He glances aside again. "Not exactly helping my case when I'm turning out the few friends I did make along the way, either," he said.

She leans forward a bit, making a sweeping motion with her arm over the top of Jules' head, as if she were trying to muss up his hair, but her limb just kind of phases through it in an intangible way; she doesn't seem annoyed, almost like she knew that was going to happen, but it doesn't stop her from trying anyway.

Merciviant quietly takes in Jules' own melancholic words, thinking on them. When it speaks, its voice is very slightly less echoing and a bit higher pitched, almost sounding like a different being.

"My home was caught in war, myself. I was created partially to be used in that conflict. That origin, combined with my appearance and nature as a witch, drove many away from me and I from them. To be completely direct - I am struggling to adapt to the less chaotic times in this realm. And even then I am driven to make the pacts I do, to gain more.
I do not fully understand why.
As such...I often feel very lost. I understand this out of place feeling and the lack of belonging intimately."

He seems to think on Merciviant's words for a moment, letting some of the pieces fall into place where he can understand them more effectively. "The 'pacts' you describe don't sound a lot different than my kind and the spirits," he surmises, rolling his eyes upward. "Such as this little brat up here."

Sylvan proceeds to 'hang' over the edge of Jules' forehead from the top of his skull, peering down at him with her big green eyes just within the upper range of his vision. If she could grin, she'd be doing so.

His attention returns to Merciviant. "That thing I encountered, you used the name 'Asmodeus' a couple of times now. Was that creature one of them?" Of course, if he'd been paying attention he'd probably know that the Pumpkinhead had already explained this to him, but he's not the sharpest tack on the bulletin board, at times.

Merciviant nods and opens its grimoire with clear enthusiasm in its body language. It flips to a specific page where a large, multiheaded entity is depicted with a curious sigil and a mention of a gold seal, pointing to the illustration of the creature.

"Yes, indeed. That was an avatar of Lord Asmodeus, the demon king of desire - also known as lust. There are but a handful where he comes from where the title of "king" is granted.
Ordinarily, a witch of my leaning contacts them via a ritual and offers gifts in return for the demon granting them its power - in my case, the right to summon them as an ally.
Though that was a mere avatar, it will prove an invaluable one indeed."

Jules helps himself to lean forward a little bit so he can see better, studying the illustration with a cross between concern and intrigue.

She leans a little further over Jules' head so she can see, too; even mana spirits like picture books!

"Considering how afraid for my life I was during that brief encounter we had," he said, stepping back after a moment, "it definitely sounds like a worthwhile investment. Though, he didn't sound too terribly happy to be part of your.. uh.. 'collection'."

"Perhaps." The pumkinhead says in the higher voice once again as it softly closes the tome, though only after seeing Sylvan got her fill.

"But while I would enjoy his friendship, he does not need to be more than an associate, should it please him."

It turns its gaze up to the sky. Its voice is lower and echoing again.

"This hunger I am overcome with for more...likely will not be sated until the end. I must not give up. I may only proceed."

"Nothing wrong with that," he said, shifting again so that he was flat on both feet once more. "The drive is what most people need to go about most things, otherwise we'd just be zombies." He smirks, as if it were actually supposed to be humorous. "I suspect that the more allies you gain, the less risk you'll be taken for situations like what occurred just a short while ago, too, at least." There's a pause, before something else comes to mind. "These pacts you make, is there any fear of a rebellion or suchlike?"

Merciviant returns its gaze to Jules and nods. "Yes, should I myself violate the terms of the contract. Our working relationship is void on that, and so they have no obligation to follow me. In the case of Buer and Furcas, we have a strong enough bond at this point that they would not be my enemies...but Lord Asmodeus would likely take advantage of that in full.
They themselves are physically unable to break the contract under most circumstances.
...I cannot help but feel it is a bit unfair. I would rather they work with me of their own volition, naturally."

Merciviant seems a bit regretful, clearly frustrated at Amsodeus's reaction to its original offer.

"...I loathe persuasion by force."

"Were the first two of your allies that resistance, at first?" Jules asked, glancing at the tome briefly before his eyes go back to the gourd on Merciviant's shoulders. "Maybe it's a matter of personal association over time." He didn't actually think that was how it worked, especially not after seeing how vehement Asmodeus was, but he also wasn't going to pretend like he actually knew even the basics of how it worked beyond what he'd just been told. "In either case, you seem like you have a pretty good... head... on your shoulders." His tone is slurred a little bit, as if there was a visible wince in his terminology at that moment. "I'm sure you're not too worried about inadvertently breaking your oath and having to worry about it, for better or for worse."

"Fortunately not. Buer was quite receptive and Furcas simply wanted a change of pace. The two of them wanted nothing more than the basic price.
At the end of it, even if our contract were to be broken I imagine they would linger with me for a time."

It doesn't seem to have taken note or otherwise be bothered by the head comment. It could be that it didn't mind...or that it is too engrossed in the demonolatry talk to notice.

Sylvan is busy just kind of... amusing herself over the top of Jules' head, trying to do things that she knows she can't and doesn't actually affect him at all, but since she's a mana spirit with nothing better to do, it gives off oddly-endearing vibes all on its own.

That is, untill something suddenly catches her attention, and she abruptly stands up straight, floating about an inch or so higher than the highest bit of Jules' hair. Her attention is jerked back to the northwest, and a wary expression begins to dawn in those big green eyes of hers.

"So then you'll likely at least have some lingering aid, in the event that things turn south," Jules remarked, "but, again, it sounds like you know what you're doing." He doesn't seem to notice what's caught Sylvan's attention, himself, simply idling in the conversation at the moment.

"Ideally. With more practice, I will eventually have less to worry about, as such. That being said..."

Its eye light focuses on Sylvan, at first distracted by her antics but now seeing the look she was giving.

"Your companion looks to be worried about something. Is there anything of note in that direction?" Merciviant asks this as it points to the northwest with one boney hand.

Jules looks confused for a second at the sudden change in topic, needing to take a second to focus on what Merciviant is saying before noting which direction it was pointing.

At this same moment in time, Sylvan speeds down from the top of Jules' head and gets right in his face, waving her arms frantically about something and also pointing in the same northwest direction that the Pumpkinhead was indicating.

One could see the color visibly drain from Jules' face as it dawns on him what, between the two of them, is happening elsewhere in that direction. "Shit!" he curses, suddenly up in arms. He jerks his head back toward Merciviant for just a moment. "It sounds like something's wrong over by where Alyss' herd is staying. Sorry about this, but I need to go, like, right now."

He doesn't even pretend to wait for an answer, immediately turning on his heel and making a bolt westward down an adjoining road, in the direction of Rabite Forest. He's pretty quick, too, considering he doesn't look too terribly athletic, build-wise.

She casts a backwards glance at Merciviant as she follows directly behind Jules, her expression concerned but regretful, and waves a little arm as she departs.

Merciviant gives a wave back to Sylvan, watching the two of them vanish over the horizon. Leaning against a nearby wall, it opens its book back to the page depicting Asmodeus again.

It speaks aloud, in a voice lower than the two tones before.

"Working relationship...with one who berated me like that? Your station has made you arrogant, 'king'. Eventually I will be able to crush you easily. And I say this to your true form, not this avatar."

The golden stone Merciviant used in the contract rumbles.

"Calm yourself. That is only if you bare your fangs at me again. It is in both of our best interests to at least be amicable. Do you disagree?"

The vibrations stopped.

The higher voice returned.

"And so, let us make an effort to understand one another. Your advice would be of great value to me, Lord Asmodeus, let alone your power."

The stone was completely still now. If there was indeed a conversation happening, it would seem an agreement had been reached.

Merciviant's normal voice was once again speaking.

"I wish I had thought to offer him one of the gems we dug up during the search for your seal. Perhaps one would have helped him patch things up with her.

Ah, well. So it goes."