AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic - A Breath in the Silence: "Life" in Tarkuul

Dead wrote:

On the fifth day, the color darkened further, and it appeared as if the Shadows are coming from the focal
point of the portal. The High Arcanist was seemingly barely standing now, leaning on his staff as he was
humming, vibrating and repeating the same arcane phrase over and over again..

"Nif'fesi'sjach"

Initiate Shaji listens in, her ears pricked in nterest of the Draconic phrase. Past that, though,t he magic seems to hold no allure to her, and she continues about her merry way.

It was near the morning when Illuminatus Aurelius Constance joined the High Arcanist by the portal. After
a short conversation, the chant once more continued. The Headmaster rose his staff pointing it to the
very center of the portal, shaking violently and shouting the arcane formula for the last time, as a ray of
dark matter shot from the crystal of his staff into the portal, and with a loud thunder-like crack, ripped a
tear in the fabric of the plane. As Lucius stepped away, obviously exhausted after five cycles of chanting
the other man, stepped forward, conjuring several arcane images in the air as he channeled his energy
into the portal, speaking the arcane phrase.

The spell was finally done and as a result, a dark, shadowy vortex formed upon the ground. Those well
versed in Draconic would translate the "Nif'fesi'sjach" phrase as "Open the Shadow Gate".

From a distance Enforcer Fearian could be seen notably keeping a keen eye on the pair of magi, his hands folded lightly one over the other beneath his cloak.
If approached he would be rather short in his responses, seemingly seeking to insure the safety of the magi while they continued their work.
During those times of which he would have need to depart for short periods he would appoint one of the Sentinels to stand watch over them with very specific orders, simply..
"See to it their work is not interrupted with the exception of their own doing, under any circumstance."

All throughout the Living City, various building initiatives begin to see completion, the addition of the drow and small horde of simple skeletons and zombies from the City improving the pace wonderfully.

A sturdy wall begins to form around one side of the Court of the Undying, complete with proper ballista emplacements, on the side of the Court that leads to the portal platform. A few undead could even have been seen digging out the area directly in front of the new gate, before covering it back over again. The three of the new ballista being created by Lacern go up onto the platforms immediately, along with the sturdy supply boxes made by a particular Shadovar Arcanist.

Just west of that position, High Arcanist Blackwater's work on the new Gateway is completed, linking the present portal to the Lowlands Swamp with his new creation, along with a newly crafted connection to a shadowy destination.

And near the entrance to the crypts, two small towers, seemingly intended as residences for those who call the Living City home, appear to be constructed. While the smaller of the two seems to still need a few finishing touches, it is clear that the City is beginning to use whatever space it has available, trending towards building "up" rather than "out".

The most startling changes however are found in the Court of the Living. The work that has been steadily progressing over the last few months has begun to take shape, as several of the buildings have their exteriors (if not their interiors) completed. More housing is completed for the mortal residents of the City, as well as a much anticipated arena in one corner.

A barracks for the Living Guard and apartments for the members of the Living Guard and Magisterium Mortis alike, have the buildings themselves completed, though the interiors yet need to be furnished before they are usable. The artistic touch of the drow is evident in some much of the new construction, and what greenery can be found seems to be testament to the Loremaster's burgeoning green thumb.

On the north-eastern edge of the Court, a raised plateau of worked stone rises above the adjacent buildings, its flat top readying to serve some purpose or another. Conversely the south-eastern edge of the Court sees a much more readily identifiable building crop up, a much-bejeweled structure in the likeness of a kraken, an elaborate shrine to the Bitch Queen.

Those who are keen observers might note that, despite all of the new construction, one section of the Court of the Living yet remains clear of any foundation work or even so much as a chalk line, where the rest has already been built or at least parceled off.

All in all, it would seem that the Living City is indeed beginning to "live" up to its name.

Gerald can be seen and heard in the forge, hard at work on... something.

A trio of adventurers stumble into the city and spend some time looking around. The oldest and baldest of them leaves a copy of a note at the Magisterium Mortis before they depart.

Near the portal gate that leads to the Swamps and the Shadowscape, a dark robed womanly figure appears. She bears no overt (or at least no direct) symbolism of faith, though her priestly robe does little to conceal the sound of the full plate she wears beneath it.

Obviously not being her first entry into the city, she wastes little time with sight seeing and explores the various facilities of the Living City. From the temple of The Vaunted, the Library, Tower of the Damned and then she a visit to the Court of the Living.

After a rather eventful day, she returns to the temple of The Vaunted during the middle of the night. During the earlier hours in the morning, she leaves the temple and moves back to the portal gate, leaving for an unknown amount of time..

Many can notice figure with skull mask (it is similar to head of Orcus), wanders in crypts and library. Who knows, what is he doing at this time, but spells around him says is directly. He is trying to find something.

Mictian wrote:

Many can notice figure with skull mask (it is similar to head of Orcus), wanders in crypts and library. Who knows, what is he doing at this time, but spells around him says is directly. He is trying to find something.

The figure would quickly note he is not alone in the crypts. Ever present the Keeper would watch him.

Not even a day passes before the aforementioned woman returns. Her anger appears to be barely contained as she smoothed out her tarnished and blood-smeared robe. She mutters to herself that she will have vengeance upon a non-specific group of Winyan elves. It isn't long before her robe is pristine once again, she departs her temporary quarters to return to the Vaunted temple to pray.

The next day, she is seen walking about like a lost child, curiously gazing at the recruitment signs placarded around the city. Deciding to remain neutral with the city for the time being, she goes to the library and spends the day reading by herself.

Any who strike up conversation, be it idle or business, she introduces herself as Laura Jershall, priestess.

The thrum and wham of a heavy ballista firing can be heard a couple of times as it shatters the relative silence of the Court of the Living. In the lulls between firing can be heard a mans voice berating, shouting, and yelling both advice and insults at someone in a hard voice full of the authority of someone who expects to be obeyed. After the third firing of the ballista, the shouts and the firing cease.

A female drow is seen trotting hastily around Tarkuul, she seems to be looking for someone. Several times, she visits the temple of the Vaunted, or waits for something outside, showing all signs of impatience and urgency. If one were to inquire any of the persons she spoke to, they'd tell them that she is looking for a priest of Velsharoon, and that her need appears to be dire.

Aeqvinox wrote:

A female drow is seen trotting hastily around Tarkuul, she seems to be looking for someone. Several times, she visits the temple of the Vaunted, or waits for something outside, showing all signs of impatience and urgency. If one were to inquire any of the persons she spoke to, they'd tell them that she is looking for a priest of Velsharoon, and that her need appears to be dire.

At the last hour of the night and the first hour of the morning she may spot a woman wearing a dark priests robe entering or departing the Vaunted temple. The woman is without any overt symbols of faith, though closer inspection reveals her shield bears the design of a laughing skull on it's front. She silently regards anyone who she passes with only the slightest incline of her hood in their direction as she continued on her way.

Of course she can be found in the temple throughout any time of the day. It is the midnight hours however, that her presence is absolutely certain.

An elf would be seen sitting at the Court of the Living, on the outskirts of the plaza right near the waterfront. The odd thing about it is he wouldn't move for approximately two days. If anyone approaches him, he'd simply give off a brilliant smile, and would only ask if they'd want to "Watch the sun fall with me."

Otherwise, this elf seems peaceful enough.

.. Until the sun fades..

In the wee hours of the night an odd sight could be seen by the recently established training grounds.
The Legate could be overheard shouting very specific commands to the Sentinel he had removed from a posting within the Living Court.

"Defend yourself as best you are able. This is only a training exercise, lethal force is not to be used."

A few moments would pass as the Legate whispered a few prayers of protections for both himself and the Sentinel before drawing his blade and giving the Sentinel a final glance.

"Ready yourself."

Holding the blade off to one side he then charged the Sentinel, both hands wrapping securely around the hilt of the blade as he drew it up and slashed down toward the Sentinel.
Hours would pass and still the Legate could be seen charging and engaging the Sentinel over and over again, sweat dripping to the stoney grounds to mix with the blood from the various wounds suffered by the Legate.

Deimos can be seen wondering about the library, collecting two or three books then returning to a chair. He spends most his day there searching through stories and reference books about Dragons, Plants and Magical beasts. There are a few times he also collects a book or two on the Underdark if available.

Under the evening sky, a female figure walks through the 'Living' City. Her steps are light but she moves with purpose, a calm smile upon her face. A box and a bag are exchanged. Words are given - of purpose, and ending. In the fading light, a gate opens and is closed again. A token of allegiance - peacefully broken to fall beneath the waves of surrounding waters. As the night begins, so too does the final change.

~ The final change. But change is not a bad thing.

The Legate's features would remain rather neutral as he observed the departing figure, his gaze straying to study the dwindling light upon the horizon.
Upon the figure's final steps before entering the portaling area a few simple words were whispered as the Legate turned away from the scene.

"You've served us well.. Shadows protect.."

Making his way back into the Tower of the Damned the Legate's demeanor would have notably changed in the passing moments, perhaps anger, or merely unquestioned determination.

"We need those signs, now."

Living up to his philosophy, the High Arcanist refused to honor the one who
succumbed to death and left the temple of the Nightsinger, where the vigil
for the late Kaye was held, commenting out loud..

"Useless waste of existence. I will be in the Temple of the Vaunted."

Anyone venturing down into the foreboding depths of the Crypts may begin to note the subtle formation of frost and ice around the central dais in the eastern section of the crypts.

Glim wrote:

Anyone venturing down into the foreboding depths of the Crypts may begin to note the subtle formation of frost and ice around the central dais in the eastern section of the crypts.

Keeping his distance Grim still makes note of it then returns to his office, perhaps the books there will shed some light on this for him.

Over the course of the past week the Legate could be seen often coming and going through the portal carrying a vast amount of parchment and wooden signs designating the current openings within the Living Guard.
Upon his return each evening he would spend the remainder of his waking hours working along side both his own golem and as well the undead that had been tasked with seeing to what eventually would be the guard barracks and arena grounds. Just before sleep would claim him be it for the evening or in the wee hours of the morning the Legate could be seen kneeling in the midst of the structure, hushed prayers being whispered to Tempus. To those near enough to catch a brief word it would seem as though he was bestowing his own blessing upon the grounds, but also requesting Tempus' favor and blessing upon them as well.

A pink-skinned tiefling female can be seen often coming through Tarkkul and meeting with dark-robed figures. She seems to stay somewhat distant, even though she nods to everyone she passes.

Deimos could be seen returning to the Library with books in hand, placing each one where they belong and continued to search the shelves. Looking about for some of the older tomes, historical books, maps and notes. His main topic would fall but not be limited to The Imaskar Empire. He would look for any reference to trade or taken knowledge between the Imaskar and Netheril empires along with any maps of the living city before it fell.
He would mutter questions to himself from time to time. And make notes in his journal when finding something of interest. Scratching out previous notes and even sketching pictures, whether out of boredom or perhaps imagination of what might be described.

The black doctor returns to the city. A man dressed in the garb of a dark plague doctor would be seen running about the city moving boxes and strange equipment into an apartment. Soon flyers are put up and a sign outside his apartment listing it as the office of Caduceus Medical Services. After which he can be seen studying in the library for hours on end.

Though Luca still spends most of his days toiling dutifully in the Court of the Living, he retires to a quiet corner of the library during the early hours of each morning. He settles into a well-worn research desk, and seems to be poring over a set of strange diagrams with obscure symbols. He keep s a stack of tomes handy, consulting them regularly. Those passing by would note that the texts seem to focus on the nature of light and shadow, planar fabric and boundaries, and perhaps strangely, the nature of life energy and the soul. The heavy reading is interrupted only occasionally, by the shadow dancer manipulating a bit of shadow here and there, perhaps to idly test his theories. Among the research materials, he always seems to have a candle, a few gemstones, and a bit of string handy.

After quite some time, Lucius can be seen in his old chair in the library, writing something..

About an hour past, the City of Tarkuul gave a single lurch as it began to move once again across the open sea.

A few minutes after that, a confrontation of some kind could be seen to take place between three living individuals and two Phantoms, one of which was dressed in highlights of bronze rather than the simple tones of black and gray worn by those customarily seen about the City.

The two Phantoms seemed to, for lack of better description, have a staring contest before the three figures disappeared in the cyan light of ley transportation.

Immediately thereafter the two Phantoms simple faded from view with no fanfare.

Now, nearly an hour later, the magical lights across the entirety of the City begin to flicker and gutter, seeming to alternate between red and green, as though something couldn't make up its mind which to use.

A harried and disheveled Speaker returns only briefly to the City after his previous departure, disappearing into the tent in the Court of the Living for a few moments, before emerging again. He goes to his chambers and offices to gather a few papers and personal effects, then vanishes through the leylines. Oddly, the lights stayed green around him during this quick work, seeming to keep at bay the malevolent red glow and the baleful glares of threatening Sentinels.

Glim wrote:

About an hour past, the City of Tarkuul gave a single lurch as it began to move once again across the open sea.

A few minutes after that, a confrontation of some kind could be seen to take place between three living individuals and two Phantoms, one of which was dressed in highlights of bronze rather than the simple tones of black and gray worn by those customarily seen about the City.

The two Phantoms seemed to, for lack of better description, have a staring contest before the three figures disappeared in the cyan light of ley transportation.

Immediately thereafter the two Phantoms simple faded from view with no fanfare.

Now, nearly an hour later, the magical lights across the entirety of the City begin to flicker and gutter, seeming to alternate between red and green, as though something couldn't make up its mind which to use.

It was only a short time before this that a very pregnant woman in bronze and red had been wandering the city, accompanied by a figure in dark clothing. Adorned in colors and symbolism of Torm, she seemed to garner a great deal of ill attention in each place that she went. That seemed to be the whispers anyways. She vanished into the ley with the other two, and had not been seen since.

The movement of the City across the open waters finally begins to slow, before coming to a stop, just as three sea vessels come into view on the horizon. The vessels immediately tack towards the City and as they grow closer it becomes apparent that two are ships outfitted for battle, while the third appears to be a much slower cargo or mercantile ship. All three ships bear a flag of beige and red with an overlay of a regal, burly hound.

A few mindless undead laborers commanded by three armor-clad Shadovar, two of which seem to take their orders from the third, put the finishing touches on what could be coined as "arming the City for bear." With the help of cranes and pulleys borrowed from the construction sites in the Court of the Living, heavy ballista are hoisted into place atop various pillars and buildings throughout the City, and attached to rotating rails and shock-absorbing apparatus. Bolts are fastened, clamps are tightened and locks are set, with a few more of the customized heavy ballista placed at strategic points on the City streets themselves.

Observing the ships from the Tower, the High Arcanist slowly descended to the Court and headed
towards the edge of the city, at his usual, lurching pace, apparently not being overly worried about
the war ships approaching the Living City.

A messenger arrives trough the portal, delivering a sealed letter addressed to "Luca Severin" to whoever takes such. The package holds the symbol of the Vanguard.

The three ships soon weigh anchor just "off shore" from the Living City, while a half-dozen rowboats designed for ferrying cargo are put out from the mercantile vessel, all laden with varied crates and barrels and packages. A single rowboat launches from one of the warships, seeming to bear some sort of retinue, and all seven ships soon make landfall on the northwestern tip of the Court of the Living.

A handful of undead "quickly" (as quick as zombies can be) move one of the construction cranes into place nearby, which the more skilled mortals from the boats begin putting to use to haul their cargo onto the City. A very professional and orderly group of privateers, mercantile associates and hired swords can be seen to start milling about and practically begin taking over the northwestern corner of the Court, of which the undead of the City seem little concerned by. Each of the mortals, mostly human by all appearances, are dressed in varying shades of beige and brown, with the ones giving the orders seeming to favor a sash, bracer or other clothing article of a brilliantly deep crimson.

As the single rowboat from the warship pulls up alongside the City and ties off, a retinue of three more "marines" and one gruff looking yet sophisticatedly dressed man climbs up to the City streets. He would look around for the nearest official of the City before introducing himself.

Captain Jariah Taldorn of the Moorhound Company. Where's that tavern we heard tell of? We have a bit of business to discuss.

Emilie approaches the newly arrived visitors with a small smile on her lips, her voice is polite and respectful as she speaks.

"My name is Emilie Everguard, Lorekeeper and acting Speaker while Luca Severin is away from the city on business. I would like to welcome to the Living City, I'm afraid our tavern is still under construction at this time. However, if there is business that needs to be discussed, I'm certain I can get a worker to bring you and your men some refreshments from our lounge as we speak in my office." She gestures behind her toward the Court of the Undead.

After making sure that this matter is being handled by Emilie,
the High Arcanist heads for the Temple of Velsharoon.

A few days later several covered carts laden with goods of an unknown variety are wheeled through the portal by two common looking men in drab clothing of blacks and grays. They cart the faintly rattling and clinking contents directly into the Tower of the Damned and seem to relinquish their goods to Jerto.

*-*-*-*-*

Soon after, a new sign appears on the notice boards around Tarkuul...

Valued Patrons,

It is my pleasure to announce that I can now offer you my loyal customers a wide selection
of potions and scrolls for all of your adventuring needs. Whether you need a sword to bounce
from your skin as though it struck stone or something to fortify the mind, I have what you need!

Jerto Fryar,
Tower of the Damned

*-*-*-*-*

And in a few locations across the City, the looming Bone Golems seem to retreat into the Crypts... only to return as "something else."

Since the opening of the new inn in the Living City, Eddie is seen in there on daily basis, playing dice with marines and gulping bottle after bottle of which clearly is the Midnight Nectar. The smoke from his cigarettes is floating whole over the place.

Perhaps an odd and even rarer sight midst the common folk of the city, a woman who looks and carries herself like a perfectly normal human walks around. She makes her way to the Temple of the Vaunted; as she entered, she fell silent while she walked up and knelt before the idol for a time. She then left the city as quietly as she had entered. Not seen again for any possible amount of time...

Within the Temple of the Vaunted she would find the ever burning candle in front of the idol, and there
is quite a chance that she would meet a watchful gaze of the Seeker of the Seven Truths, who is taking
care of the temple in the absence of the Necromaster. If such conditions are aligned, she would be most
certainly approached by Lucius Blackwater, who'd politely welcome her to the city and the temple and
inquire if there is anything he could do for a fellow seeker..

Weather or not she actually noticed who it was that was present, his presence was met with nothing more than the slightest of nods from the hooded figure, who the proceeded to walk with purpose and leave the city, summoning a Wraith as protection prior to her actual departure from the city via portal.

In case that his inquiry was regarded with silence,
silence is what followed from Lucius as well.

A bent, crippled form walks through the Living City early this morning, though where he walks from is not readily apparent. Hunched nearly to the point of being doubled over, the man leans heavily upon the gnarled wooden staff in his hand, crafted of a richly dark wood. His robes seem in nearly as bad repair as the man himself, tattered here and there, once rich colors faded to dull blacks and greens. A heavy tome is protectively bound and secured by a heavy chain around the man’s waist, the metal producing subtle rattling sounds as the man walks.

Despite this run-down exterior, the man exudes a measure of latent authority and power, walking the seemingly unfamiliar streets with a level of cool confidence that seems at odds with all observable details. At the completion of his “rounds”, he would disappear into the upper halls of the Tower of the Damned and would not be seen again this day.

Would the man make his rounds down into the crypts he would find Grim resting. Having fallen asleep in the bone chair as usual.

One of the new small houses on the shore was rented by an elf. He is begin stockpiling building materials and alchemy ingredients. Some golems and undead were assisting him in transporting and processing tasks. All questions ware answered with "ask the sentinels.".
Along with of that, he negotiating long-term house rent (as well with the adjoining part of shore) with city officials.

A "New" resident roams tarkuul as of late. Burning hair waving like summer heat and eyes equally hot, armoured with dark grey platemail adorned with draconian runes, no doubt protective enchantments. A burning sabre hangs by his waist.
It is a genasi and he seems to have just appeared in tarkuul one morning.

His daily routine is to eat breakfast by the forge, watching the dark blacksmith produce unholy vestments and corrupted weapons. Around midday he orders a vegetarian meat at the ghostly kraken, always asking the 'Waiter' for charcoal which he grinds atop whatever he eats like a spice.
When the night start rolling over tarkuul, reinforcing the blackness of the permanent darkness over tarkuul, he sets off to the castle and sometimes the library. He does not read anything.
The genasi seems bored and very impatient, but anybody can see that he is putting restraints on himself to leave. Once in a while he wanders close to the entrance portal to watch people come and go.

He would be very approaching when he sees visitors and members of the magisterum mortis; Spending as much time talking as he can (Catch me in game!) , but otherwise avoiding newcomers. He seems suspicious about them.

Dinner is always enjoyed in the library, while reading a book about calimshan.

It was a dark night throughout the city, only the illuminating light of the moon was brightening his way. A few casual steps, and a pause to consolidate his thoughts.
"If she's amazing, she won't be easy. If she's easy, she won't be amazing. If she's worth it, you won't give up. If you give up, you're not worthy..."

His gaze drifted towards a temple in the distance, the black marble marble and hallowed etchings setting him at unease.
"Why do I feel like this? I've done nothing wrong. If anything I've made a point, our existence is merely strands of fate, waiting to be cut by the knife.

A crow cawed in a distance, a shiver down his spine.
"I'm out of my element, revealing too much weakness."

He turned his gaze towards the ground.
"Is emotion a weakness? It's done nothing but caused me grief in the end, but in the moment of the pursuit of happiness it all seems worth it."

He stood, pushing himself off the wall, dawdling over near the nearest endside of the city, his attention drifting towards the water.
"Since Raine, it's just ... Futile. Opportunity ruined. Destroyed, demolished, crushed, maimed..." He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes.

"But you haven't felt like this since Raine.."
A very good point also.

He eased himself down on the ground, crossing his legs.
"Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you; you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for."

The new Genasi visitor spends another week in the whereabouts of the ghostly kraken and in close proximity to Havoc, the blacksmith of tarkuul. A mild interest seems to have spiraled out of control to a small obsession for the heat of the forge.

Dinner is still served in the library, now without the book about calimshan. No doubt it is already finished. Instead he plows through books about dwarven runecrafting, the art of enchanting weapons and armour with magical runes and giving them permanent magical properties. A few lexicons on draconian, the common language spellcasters use and which most runes are scribed with alongside some methodical books on metal alloy, metallurgy and various forms of Metal.

Soon a posting is put up despite the recent urge from his 'Savior' to keep a low profile.

Quote:

Looking for experienced arcanist for consulting appointment in metalworks. Good pay promised.
Contact the Fire Genasi In the Kraken, if not there leave a message

The fireblooded roams tarkuul more intensely as of late. It seems bored and the various routines it preforms, which all seem to be more for the sake of sanity, are soon abandoned.

Havoc is no longer visited nor is the ghostly kraken unless the genasi checks in to sleep or when hunger beckons. More time is now given exploration and small visits to the antechambers, fungus farm and the jail itself.
Increased presence in the library was perhaps the most logical conclusion of the firebrood. Anything to keep itself preoccupied and with something at hand was a welcoming relief, least boredom would push him towards 'radical actions'. Not to mention that in a city, a city incredibly famous for the massive library and the hundreds of thousands of books, the most logical step is to spend time in the library and make use of it.
And amidst the ancient shelves filled with knowledge of a thousand lifetimes the genasi got his hands on another lexicon of draconic runes, and promptly stripped his armour down afterwards.

The fireblooded prince stood the entire afternoon trying to decipher the runes on his own magical breastplate. The middle aged firespawn takes to jotting down a few of the runes, using calligraphy to Try and mirror the inscription on his platemail, before strapping the suit of armour back on and getting his dinner at the ghostly kraken. The few notes he made are left carelessly in the library for somebody else to find.

//Send me a PM for a translation if you know Draconian

A Breath in the Silence: "Life" in Tarkuul

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