Octavia Tullius Nobilior

The plebians tended to think that the life of a patrician was one of ease and comfort. While in some respects that was very much true, it was not constant orgies and a life free of strife or want. No, it was a life of managed business that formed the lifeblood of the republic (the empire now) and provided its sons into the military that expanded Rome's power and safeguarded her interests. They were the families that had, over the years, carefully built their wealth through generations of investment, public works and service while charting the future of the city.

So much lost over the last century as strife and war gripped them... and yet, she could not say that she really knew the republic, not as her parents did, for all that she was born in its twilight. Old enough to have some small idea, given that the Princeps Augustus had closed the doors to the temple of Janus to mark the peace when she was six years old. She remembered the doll she had received, how it was supposed to resemble the Great Gaius Julius Caesar, Uncle to the new ruler of Rome. Made in his memory and given to free to all the girls of the city, with the best of them going to the patrician girls like herself.

But even the daughters of slaves got something. The memory made her lips twitch into the suggestion of a smile. Those early years seemed so grand, so wonderful. From triumph to triumph... and then, she had gotten married! She has her beautiful children and liked to think that she raised them as well as she was allowed. And then Quinctilius Varus got her husband and sons killed by german barbarians. Her daughters taken by disease. The rest of her family whittled away as casualties...

Until she was alone, with merely the slaves and servants in her estate. She still managed her business, the business of the family that she inherited from, some of which was in trust for distant cousins and nephews. Several of which were eying an old woman who could not have any more children and wondering when she would do their fortunes the favor of dying. She snorted into her wineglass. She was not contemplating ending it all, not yet. No, she would do her best for as long as she could. She would even... indulge in a few pursuits.

Truthfully, she had always been fascinated by magic, by the power that could be grasped within. But getting a magical education was not something that money or connections alone could buy, and in any case, was quite the scandal for a young and healthy woman to be exploring those arts. Easier were the temples, but even with long service, it was mainly the priests who saw the mystical side. And she did not qualify to be a Vestal Virgin and had not for decades. And Egypt, that ancient stronghold of the mystic arts, was unsettled at the moment.

No, as she considered the texts, she had a different potential source of learning at hand. The jews were a somewhat factious people at times, and as it turns out? A heretical member of a minor sect needed some assistance in getting as far away from his fellows as possible. Truth be told, she did not really pay overmuch attention to minor sects of unenlightened religions, but the man was able to demonstrate a command over spirits. But rather than engaging his services directly, as he did not wish to remain anywhere with an enclave of his fellows, he had sold her the scrolls containing the rites to call on a greater spirit to instruct her in the mysteries.

Oh, to be sure some of the materials for the rite were expensive, as it was not one, but two that she had to learn to invoke. The actual summoning... and the means by which they could be contained long enough to have a fruitful conversation and an understanding to be reached. Which is why she was naked, in the middle of the woods, with only the cooling bodies of the bound German slaves, their intestines making the symbols of summoning on the ground.

The air stilled, as the north wind howled, a crack opening... as the large horned figure stepped through. A magnificent specimen of a male, and passable as one save for the glowing tattoos and the horns growing from his brow. Still, she smiled. For this would be the start of her mystical journey!

Mattax

On the one hand, I had been thrown into the Infernum with three cheats. Firstly I was a gestalt character. Secondly I had access to a variant class for 'fiend,' based on the mysterial class. And lastly, I had free rituals as a theurge of my HD. All fairly good, with the one major downside of being hunted by natives of the infernum. You know, the standard desperate no rest, no allies and no real way out aside from getting good enough to overcome anything. Which of course is why my build is one of 'and I choose violence' of the quick and dirty kind rather than the sort of thing that I would usually go for. But, it was effective at making enemies go splat if nothing else.

But there was not much to say in my mad dash through the Infernum. I sort of lost track of time after a point, because there was nothing left BUT the fight, but killing and trying to survive. Between the constant battles, the stress and the heat? I quite likely had gone mad after a while. And it was then that I heard my name being called out, as I slammed my fists right through a succubus's chest, tearing out her heart and crushing it beneath my feet as I punted a goat headed demon away.

I stepped through, the cold winds howling around me as I shuddered in relief, the cold air such a welcome relief that I was getting a painful hard on. But my eyes opened, and I locked onto my summoner, who was looking up at me with... well, a whole lot of eagerness and lust. Which is when she started talking. I did not understand what she was saying, but it sounded like Latin. But, as I looked at her and what she represented? As I looked over the bindings, to see if I could break them and go free? I decided to reach out with telepathy. Never actually got to use it properly. "Repeat that woman."

She paused a moment, before she smiled, inclining her head. "I am Octavia Tullius Nobilior, and I have called you in accordance with the sign and the lore, and with the authority of Dis Pater and Hectate invoke that you instruct me in the arts of sorcery and ritual"

It was a demand, as I looked down at her. "Those names hold no power over me. And like as not, any other name you could invoke. Still, you desire me to teach you the mystic arts, to invoke the spirits and command power over the natural and hidden world?" My eyes narrowed, even as inwardly? I was free! And it was only going to cost me time and service. "My price is a simple one. For the next year, I shall be your guest and shall behave as a good guest should in addition to being your teacher in the mysteries. I tire of the underworld and would walk the world of men."

My grin may have been wider than what my flesh would allow, one hand reaching out to the confines of the circle. "Do you agree to this bargain?"

My hungry grin was matched with one of her own, as the terms were struck.