[center]-=-=The Core=-=-[/center]

Over the flailing, confused form of Snider Panoptos floated, listening to his nonsensical utterances with intense fascination.  Though the Watcher could not have attested to ever seeing a cartoon for children, this human absolutely nailed what he would have thought to be the stereotypical old man in a cartoon: senseless, senile, sporadic, and spasmodic.  After a few amusing moments he sighed and turned back to face his progeny.  [color=50C878]”Which one of you,”[/color] he asked, [color=50C878]”Brought this one here to waste our time?  Can’t you see he’s broken?  Eugh…”[/color]  Panoptos descended just close enough to flick Snider on the nose, lazily drawing an off-kilter mark that glowed dimly, like a dying ember.  Then Snider disappeared, returned to the ruined city from which he came.  When Panoptos looked up, he spotted one of the Watchers raising its hand.  [color=slategray]”Uh, that were me mate, sorry fer dat.”[/color]

[color=50C878]”Rhetorical question, imbecile.  Didn’t you bring the fanatic, anyway?”[/color] Panoptos sneered dismissively, and refocused his attention on the remaining members of the group.  Of them, funnily enough, the least humanoid seemed the most interesting.  He picked up an odd assortment of signals from Fenn, not scornfully dismissive but definitely not accepting.  Intrigued, and suddenly wary, Panoptos observed.  Behind fur and fangs, the thoughts of a hellhound were difficult to discern.  Surely a beast of Inferno did not doubt the power of the council?  Perhaps he considered matters more existential.  The Watcher would have frowned pensively had it a mouth with which to do so.  Did the creature, of all beings, suspect…?

He counted himself unsurprised that Fenn saw fit to refuse service to the Council, but remarkably the demon exhibited enough intelligence to spare himself a terrible fate by choosing a third option.  Panoptos drew a talon across his chin in thought.  Only when the hellhound snapped at him did he break his silence.  [color=50C878]”As if you could touch me.  I’m protected, poochie.  Still, you needn’t worry about a branding.  Emblazoning you would be like…giving a sheep an education.”[/color]

Unfortunately, Panoptos did not get the chance to offer more profound insight, for a mere man saw fit to not only refuse but threaten the venerable Charred Council.  The quiet that followed his declaration was brief and deadly.  Then, the center head fumed,

[h3]”Your delusions and threats are pittance to the Council!  We are a more merciful by far than the immaterial God you claim to serve, to not cast you down to your rightful place in Hell this instant.  As such, we will allow you to live just long enough to see that the angels you idolize are monsters as eldritch than the vilest demon.   But before that, it is time you learned that there are consequences in this universe for your actions.  [i]I[/i] will brand you myself!”[/h3]

From beneath Antonio’s feet, the white rune protecting him from the ungodly heat abruptly faded.

The Paladin should have died that instant, roasted into ashes inside his own armor as it melted off of him, but the power of the Council sustained his life.  Only after a minute of this torment was the man transported in darkness, whose tender oblivion seemed an incredible relief, back to the surface.  Rather than a simple scar, Antonio’s traitor brand was the entirety of his skin, charred by the unquenchable fires of the Core to a festering meld of black and red.  His armor lay on him still, but warped and damaged to such an extent that he might not ever be able to take some of it off on his own.  Nevertheless, his movement and ability to fight were unimpaired, and his consciousness remained fully with him.

The Core did not lapse into silence following the Templar’s departure.  Few, certainly, expected him to survive such an unabashed slander of the Charred Council—what, after all, did he think would happen?  That some divine providence would step in and annul the consequences of brazen and unchecked malice?  Yet the meeting quickly returned to order.  

Panoptos decided to hold Mary in particularly low esteem.  His advanced cognition beheld the conflict within her mind, her body, and her soul, and the fact that she seemed beholden to the two demons did not help his estimation of her.  [color=50C878]”Perhaps your pale blood clotted in your ears, dollface.  Either you’re branded an agent of the Council, you’re branded an enemy, or you’re such a base creature that we can be assured of your servitude without a mark.”[/color]  To make sure that nobody missed his meaning, the viridian Watcher cast a nine-eyed glance at Fenn.  Then he continued, [color=50C878]”Besides, you can’t use our portals without it.  Fancy walking from here to Paradiso and back?”[/color]  The voice of the level-headed Councilor rumbled through the fiery realm after its servant’s question.

[h3]”This audience is drawing to a close.  Those who have pledged may journey to the citadel.  In only a few hours your first task as agents of the Charred Council will commence; until then, satiate your mortal needs of food and rest.  To those who remain undecided: conquer your indecision.  Choose now whether you are for Creation or against it.  If you do not forget your place, you may survive even if you betray us.”[/h3]