Hall Of Fame!

Survival - 8 Wins!


Alignment: Villain

Team: Freelance Villain


Strength: Weak

Agility: Supreme

Mind: Standard

Body: Weak


Personal Wins: 8

Personal Losses: 3


Now properly intertwined, Skual twisted the ley lines so that they formed a 'solid' rope. She inserted the end of the rope into the spell matrix. Energy surged through the ley lines from deep within the Nexus, from below her glimmer of the Guild Hall. Some of it spilled over into the physical word and washed the dark Guild room with bright, piercing light. A figure began to form at the center of the matrix, feeding itself on the energy, birthing itself again. The spell faded, and a familiar, cold voice spoke: "It is good to see that you do not forget your employees." Skual smiled. She was certainly getting on in years, and she couldn't connect well with the novices who had opted to remain behind in Khazan. It would be nice to have a familiar Power around. Jiratlan looked around the room. "Things have...changed in my absence, I see." Most of the Guild House had been shifted back to its home earth, and what remained was simply a shadow. Luckily, the Guild knew how to make use of shadows. The Guild Building itself seemed to have taken on a permanent transient feeling (different from its normal transient aspect); the walls and furnishings seemed as though they would slip away in a moment if one took an eye off them for too long. Sneaky thing, that Guild House; it didn't like being away from itself. In the lower levels near Skual's workshop, which acted as the anchor, the impending transience of the Guild House dissipated, and this room was far better than most. It seemed almost ironic; the Guild was now a shadow in Khazan, and the Guild House reflected that. Skual would have to explain all that had happened recently to Jiratlan, but first she had questions of her own. Her Voice took on a firm tone. "You're looking a bit different after this embodiment, demon. Oh, and Chakos and Samas are dead. Care to explain where the hell you've been? No pun intended, of course."

Calm and collected, business has always come first for Jiratlan; there isn't a second. Now that he's back in the employ, and under the protection of, the Shallow Guild of Bleak Sunrise, their business comes first. Woe be to those who think differently.

The Stirge and the Nizah

     Disintegration: Ultimate

  • Ranged Attack Only
  • Armor Piercing
  • Target Seeker
  • Multi-Attacks
  • Ranged and Melee Attack


"Jiratlan's spirit was forced to feed on its immediate memories and experiences to rematerialize itself. He had no idea how he had been discorperated, but at least his new surroundings were familiar. He was back in the Pit. Needless to say, his former employers were a bit angry with him. Keep in mind that in terms of eternity, a 'bit' is more than most could imagine. They tried to pull him back into their Thrall, but the Pull of the Pit no longer had absolute power over Jiratlan. His spirit pulled away from them, but alone it was not strong enough to free him. Luckily, the Shallow Guild could still help him. They didn't directly bind Jiratlan to the Guild, but instead formulated spells to keep him free of the Pit; Jiratlan's word was enough to bind him until his contract was up. Wards snapped and crackled; astral energy hacked at the tendrils of the Pit. Jiratlan took the opportunity to Rise towards the exit of the Pit; unlike other realms of existence, in a place like the Pit a spirit was forced to use predetermined exits and entrances. After all, Hell couldn't just have spirits up and leave the Pit at will; it'd defeat the whole purpose of the place. Jiratlan made for the Gate while the tendrils of the Pit were entwined with the Wards of the Guild. There it was, just where Jiratlan remembered: a single shining portal. And there was the Guardian, directly in front of it as he had been for millennia. It didn't look like much even here in its home plane; it was seven feet tall, cut but not hulking, and naked and neuter, all enclosed in shiny red skin. However, as with most things in Hell, there was deception afoot. The Guardian held a scepter and sickle; it needed only these two things and none could pass it. Jiratlan knew what the Stirge and the Nizah could do; they did not strike physically, but instead wounded the sentience of the opponent. The weapons held within them the power to destroy the mind of a corporeal being utterly, and having no soul, they were twice as dangerous to a spirit like himself: all that made Jiratlan was sentience and energy. Without his sentience, he would be nothing more than mindless energy swirling about the astral planes. As Jiratlan approached the Gate, the Guardian impassively and gracefully moved to strike him down with a boomerang-like toss of the Nizah. The Wards of the Guild moved to protect him and shuddered beneath the impact of the Infernal weapon. No shield could survive repeated blows from the Stirge or the Nizah. He did not have many chances. Jiratlan grasped the retreating weapon by the handle, and drove onward. Still impassive, the Guardian strode to meet him. Jiratlan knew the Stirge was better suited to close combat than the Nizah; he would stand no chance against it. He sidestepped the demon, and the Wards of the Guild intercepted the incoming blow from the scepter. They shattered, but protected him one last time. Jiratlan took that chance to strike with the sickle. The Guardian howled in pain as its mind was disintegrated. Jiratlan grasped the scepter from its hand and leapt through the Gate of the Pit..."


The Hold fo the Pit

     Web Creation: Supreme

  • Ranged Attack Only
  • Area Affect


"Through the planes of existence Jiratlan traveled, avoiding those planes from which he could not easily escape. The Pit was doubly enraged with him now; he had not only stolen his freedom, but had taken from them the Stirge and the Nizah as well. Jiratlan, however, could not find the Guild's signature anywhere in the planes. Their presence was always shielded, but he should have been able to contact one of the Brothers by now. Something had obviously happened to the Shallow Guild. He kept searching though, intent on finding them for two reasons: he would see them uphold their end of the Bargain they had made, for they were the only organization he knew of willing to hide and help a rogue demon of his stature. Secondly, and perhaps more pressing at the moment, he lacked the strength to embody himself in the physical world without them, and here in the astral planes he was under constant pursuit. Jiratlan would embody and escape the planes, or eventually he would be caught. Suddenly, while passing through the 9th circle of Nodahaz, he heard a clear, ringing voice in his head, but it wasn't one of the Voices he had been searching for. "Halt, Spawn of the Pit." It was an angel. A seraph, to be exact; evidently out patrolling the Planes to stop any mischief that Satan might be up to. Jiratlan replied calmly. "Soldier, I am no longer in the employ of the Pit. I am a Free Entity and as such have every right to pass through this Plane according to your very Lord's word." "Nay foul creature, for I know thou name: Jiratlan, whom I saw at the beaches of Quix'al'alk, Atlantis. I call feud with you, who helped to slay my comrades." Jiratlan did not curse, but simply hefted his new found weapons. The angel was making this personal; he could call feud upon such an old debt if he so desired and then could battle Jiratlan. Once the greatest Hadic Contractual Enforcer ever known, Jiratlan knew all such Rules. "Then I must accept," he replied. With that, Jiratlan struck with the Pull of the Pit, but it was a Pull no longer. The dark fluid energy did not pull the spear and shield from the angel, but instead simply bound the angel. Entities had been known to change and evolve after a discorporation, and Jiratlan was no exception..."


Wings of Paradise

     Flight: Superior


"Jiratlan strode toward the struggling angel. The creature had been foolish; Paradise should not even miss such a poor employee. "If you choose to call feud, you must pay the price." With that, the demon reached out and ripped the wings from the back of the angel. Then, a most unusual thing happened. Skual would later explain to Jiratlan that the Pit had previously defined his existence and no longer did. The demon, however, did not have a non-demonic form to revert to like many entities captured by the Pit did; Hell itself had made him. His form then was pliable, and took on the aspects of the first non-demonic entity it found. The angel's wings vanished, and Jiratlan himself grew the Wings of Paradise. He plunged the Nizah into the Seraphim's chest..."


Robes of the Most High

     Body Armor: Ultimate


The moon traversed the sky and the sun rose as Jiratlan recounted every detail of his disembodiment to Skual. She listened impassively, memorizing everything. The demon finished the tale by telling what Skual already knew: that he had finally heard her call and grasped at the thread she offered him, pulling him through the Veil and into the physical plane. "Very good demon, very good. Seems Creation is having quite a laugh on you with that new form and all, but there are few left here that would recall the old. Let your contract with the Guild continue, for there is still much work to be done and now fewer to do it. However, I must study your stolen weapons; such things have not been seen in the physical plane since the beginning of time." Jiratlan calmly replied, "Nay Brother, for they are in no way a part of our contract. I procured them on my own, and have no reason to lend them out." Skual laughed. Yes, Jiratlan always kept a bargain, but certainly not in spirit. The letter of the law was what mattered. "Then I shall give you something in exchange for the right to borrow your trophies when I desire. It was left behind in the agile stair by an angel much like the one which acted as the mold for your form. Seems he got a little too curious about the doings of the Guild, then he got a little too righteous about the doings of the Guild, and finally he got a little surprise from the doings of the Guild. I think, however, that it will serve your new form better than it did him."