//IC Responses Welcomed//

“Stop poking that skeleton, Eithne,” a strong male voice rings out in the library, a warning.

A small, pale woman with smooth white skin and a crazy mop of red curls on her head stops instantly what she is doing (or about to do) to a skeleton guard in the library. “I wasthn’t poking him,” she lisps, defensively, but she sets her arms deliberately down at her sides, as if holding them steady and still. It seemed to require some effort on her part to keep her hands at her sides, but she manages.

The man stands at approximately 5’8”, is wearing dark clothing-- a norm for the city, it seems-- and when seen without his hood, two dark horns protrude noticeably from his forehead. There is no doubt he is a tiefling. He is currently surrounded by a pile of books, and although he seems absorbed in some research, he keeps an eye on the woman, protectively, but also warily, as one might keep an eye on a wayward two-year old. His bright green eyes alternate between amusement and annoyance as he keeps tabs on her.

She, for her part, alternates between sitting near Ian, though notably usually on the ground, at his feet, and drawing or painting quietly, laying out and staring at a very old set of tarot cards, and wandering about, touching things, tracing them with her fingers, looking-- staring-- sniffing even. To be fair, they are not bad guests; he seems to keep her well in line, having a near preternatural ability to tell when she is being a bit TOO quiet, and about to do something disruptive. She responds immediately to his correction.

At the moment, though, she has found the large mirror--again, as if brand new-- and is staring at herself in it; she blinks her eyes, staring, and her second set of lids flicker; she sticks out her tongue, amusing herself, and it is forked. Quite possibly also a tiefling, though more subtle in appearance. She sits at the base of the mirror and touches, tracing her fingers along the cold glass.

He, for his part, continues to alternate between his research, sighing frustratedly from time to time, and keeping an eye on his red-headed bard.

She sings quietly to herself, an odd language, which those schooled in such things might recognize as the native tongue of Calimshan, Alzhedo.

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*A man garbed in black velvet robes with red embroidery moves about the library he sees books laying about and moves the move to place them back in the correct positions, as he notices the two he almost hobbles over to them clutching his obsidian staff with a deep red crystal atop as if its the only thing keeping him up, he nods to the two in a polite fashion and speaks in a raspy elderly voice*

"How might i be of assistance to you two" * he coughs lightly* " during your stay in the living city, if you required aid i am often in the library or my office in the tower of the dammed"

*with that he await an reply, and places a few books onto another shelf*

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If i am not about when you are, but you would like to RP with Valkin, chose a time in red (GMT+8) / add character name PM me ICLY/OCC :http://teamup.com/ks662ccbfedda01eb0/

Ian would nod to man and thank him for the offer. From the looks of things, he was reading an anicent tome on summoning rituals. More spesifically, fiendish summoning rituals. There he sat quietly in the library of Tarkuul for quite some time. Paying little attention to anything going on around him, with the exception of the girl kneeled down by his chair. Occationally he would pat her on the head, or stroke her hair after turning a page.

When she got too loud or started poking at the skeletons in the library again, he commanded her movements and actions with a single but harshly spoken word. only moments after, she would hurry back to his feet again. After hours of reading trough the tome, he rose slowly from the chair and placed it back where he had plucked it from. This time fetching another dusty old tome. He moved back to the chair with determined and confident steps, his stride perhaps betraying more than a hint of arrogance.

And there he sat back down, with the woman at his feet, with his new tome. He patted her on the head slightly again and murmured something to her in Alzhedo. "Now for your heritage" he spoke, and opened the tome that contained information on fiendish traits and lineage. A quiet and focused figure in the chair, hungry for the anicent knowledge that the books here could offer him. The only noise being made by the pair, came from the girl at his feet as she continued her quiet song.

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Adair - Druid and part time treant cosplayer

" valkin would direct him towards a shelf of books detailing many fiendish summoning rituals, and would also advise that he before his focus on necromancy was a demonoligist for many a year, he would summon forth balmortis his bound demon lord and offer any aid he can regarding binding and summoning rituals"

// meet icly if you want specifics

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If i am not about when you are, but you would like to RP with Valkin, chose a time in red (GMT+8) / add character name PM me ICLY/OCC :http://teamup.com/ks662ccbfedda01eb0/

//We'll send PM to set up time for the 3 of us then//

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The tiefling can be seen sitting down in the library, when he's not out training or on his duties as a guard.

In a slightly darkened corner, Ian flips slowly trough a large and thick tome. His dark green eyes seems to almost shimmer against the darkness around him as they hungrily drink in the information that the tome has to offer up to him.

Another page is turned. The tiefling shifts slightly in his chair and briefly scans the library for potential distractions. As he finds none, a content sigh flows out from his lips and his eyes drift back down to the tome.

As he takes in the information hidden within the tome, a single finger runs along the length of his left horn. First up.. then down, a habit born from deep concentration perhaps. For now however, the tiefling seems almost enthralled with the tome.

Codex: Summoning & Binding

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Adair - Druid and part time treant cosplayer

Ian sat quietly in a corner of the library browsing two smaller tomes that he had retrieved earlier. Quietly the tiefling turned the pages, one by one as he drank in the information they contained. Searching for ....something. Something to help him bind and subjugate a more powerful fiend as the Erinyes currently bound to him had started to bore him now. The irony of binding a fallen angel had grown old, and watching her dig in the sand for his amusement was getting old too quickly for his own tastes. And there was ofcourse the main reason, she was less than useless in any fight. Not use for anything other than a delaying tactic while he made his escape. He desired something more powerful, something stronger. Something .... more similar to the ancestor down his line that had blessed him with the features and traits he now possessed.

As the hours flew by something started to stir in him. At first it was but a whisper. But hiding from it would soon prove to be as impossible as hiding from your own shadow. An undenieable part of him that slowly clawed at his patience, at his concentration. The words in the books became harder to read or even focus on, finally they seemed to be nothing more than blurs. The tiefling slammed the tome shut and placed it on the arm rest of his chair, clutching his chest. It burned now, it was undenieable. And despite the bad timing this time, the tiefling was all too happy to scratch his itch now. He needed flesh.. blood. To taste the horror that lingered within the pink flesh from a kill, to taste the anquish that tainted the blood. He needed the taste of death, dispair.. but most of all the taste of a sentient creature.

With a determined stride the tiefling hurried out of the library, summoning the Erinyes to place his books back where they were found. He did not have time to stop for such menial matters. He almost leaped over the gate leading out of Tarkuul, feeling more and more agitated, irritable.. As he entered the portal he had eyes for nothing but his next target.. his next kill. The hunger for it was as always, too powerful and seductive to resist.

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Adair - Druid and part time treant cosplayer

Eithne, sitting quietly at Ian's feet through most of his studying, while she draws or flips through her worn tarot deck one at a time, winces as his occasional hair stroking turns into an inadvertant grasp and tug-- his motions betraying his emotion and the draw to violence. When he rises to leave, she follows, silently, wisely knowing when to shut up, though she does stop to stick out her tongue at herself in the large mirror as she passes by it, forked tongue to forked tongue.

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Ian sits down in the library again with one of his books, musing. This book however was not filled with information, but blank pages.. He quietly wrote in it, lining up his intended steps for a future ritual.. preparing for what was to come, for what he had done, and cataloging what he had learnt on the matter. Word for word, his intentions became clear for the book.

"Soon" he thought, "Soon it shall take place. And I will take the power it has to offer.."

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Adair - Druid and part time treant cosplayer

Entering a small room within the library in Tarkuul, Ian and three other figures seemed quite busy.. Left behind after they left, a few droplets of blood on the ground and perhaps the lingering sensation that something of a rather sinister nature took place here not long ago.

As Ian left the room, a dark laughter could be heard hanging over the area, though it did not come from him. A book was pressed up against his chest, dark and crusted blood spattered covers neatly concealing whatever information lies within. His eyes seemed determined, as if nothing else mattered.. and for several hours after the encounter, he sat down in Tarkuul's library with his eyes drawn to the book's contents.

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Adair - Druid and part time treant cosplayer

A very small, pale woman-- 5'1" but with a wild mane of red curls, familiar to some in Tarkuul, but missing her "better" half, stomps her foot angrily while she nears the gate. She looks behind her a few times, cursing and nearly growling --in Alzhedo? as if at something or someone behind her.

And then she walks into the city, moving about it as if extremely familiar with its buildings and layout, casting her gaze around as if making sure she's in the right places.

She finds an empty bedchamber, and seems to move in. Or, in her case, back in.

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