The World of Layonara

Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: Rowana on October 20, 2013, 02:56:36 am

Title: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Rowana on October 20, 2013, 02:56:36 am
Life has been rough, and the road bringing me to where I am today has been twisted and dark. It seems like ages ago when goblins attacked the caravan I was tagging along with. The murderous little creatures killed most of the merchants and their families, and I still wonder to this day, why they chose to keep me alive and sell me into slavery to Acron Grinille. *shudders* The leering face of that evil little man is burned into my brain. His torture and abuse have left scars on my body and soul. He thought his little bracelets would bind me to the house for as long as he wanted to keep me alive, but how wrong he was. How very wrong. He did not comprehend the depth of my will, the power of my focused mind. *chuckles*Acron laughed at me because he thought I was trying to starve myself to death, and he threatened to raise me with his necromantic magic as another of his undead minions if I died, but he was so stupid for not seeing the bracelets getting looser and looser every day.I wonder what went through his mind when he woke up to the sensation of the blade of his own knife slipping between his ribs, seeking his black little heart? Only the Gods would know, and I wish I could be privy to that knowledge so I could savor it like a fine wine aged in an oak barrel....(Stares blankly at the large black book in his lap) Now there is this. Acron's book. I watched and learned from a master of death. This book holds power I am too weak to understand. Some day though this knowledge will be mine. I will never be the slave of another.
Title: RE: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on September 04, 2006, 10:35:49 pm
I hear the calls of the book constantly in my mind...The hissing promises of power are a seduction I can no longer forebear. I opened the book and immersed myself in dark secrets and cryptic arcane formula. Over the course of about a week, I have mastered several dark magics. I can cause a burst of life draining energy, direct a ray of the same substance, and cause my touch to replicate that of the horrid undead ghoul. I entered the goblin badlands and tested my newfound proficiencies to terrible affect. I felt nothing. The pit of my stomach was hollow and cold, even after slaying some of those who represented the cause of my past enslavement… I shudder to think where this road will lead me. My feet are on a path that leads into shadows and darkness.
Title: RE: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on September 05, 2006, 09:32:12 pm
I am beginning to see that the undead run rampant around Hlint. It is turning out to be a good location for the studies I have begun, at least in regards to some of the lesser of the restless ones. I am documenting the types of the risen, and attempting to decipher the enchantments that hold them in thrall. It is slow going though without a laboratory and a specimen…

The book is disclosing clues to hidden secrets that intrigues my mind and motivates me to focus more intensely. Secrets that may bestow the power to conquer death itself. If I stay the path…

Today I assisted the small one, Gilli, with a mission into the crypts. A Cleric or Paladin assisted us. I will have to exercise caution, as there are Orders and Secret Societies that would not look kindly upon my academic endeavors. Gilli is a breath of fresh air, and actually makes me smile and laugh. Both of which have been in meager supply lately. Sometimes I feel like I am hanging from the precipice by my fingernails, the abyss waiting below to swallow me whole. I do not feel that way when Gilli is around.

I hear rumors that the war is going badly. Perhaps my art can be of use in defeating undead elements of the enemy force, when I am stronger. We will see…

The book beckons me…
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on October 23, 2006, 09:39:48 pm
The power contained within the pages of the book is a narcotic....and a poison. I feel it eating me up. I have stared into the abyss, and it has entered into my soul. If I still have one. I can escape it for days at a time, but the incessant whispering overcomes me and I must obey. I fall into the weave of dark magic’s and do not eat, do not sleep, and feel the transfer of power with every symbol and word that is memorized. The other day I awoke from a stupor on the edge of the swamps, a crossbow in my hands pointed in the direction of friends, reason returning was like a splash of cold water on my psyche. If Gimli and Gilli had not arrived, it is hard to say how long the book would have held me in thrall.....
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on November 22, 2006, 09:03:25 pm
I slipped into the brambles and briars infesting the under story of the forest surrounding the fetid swamps of the high moors. I easily made my way several hundred yards into the trees and crouched in the shadow of an old, gnarled weeping willow. A slight breeze made its way through the foliage bringing the acrid smells of rotting vegetation and mud, and ever so slightly moved the draping blankets of moss hanging from blackened branches. I watched and listened for any sign of followers, my dagger unsheathed and ready to find a mark. The silence was tangible. Even the insipid whispering of the book in my mind had ceased. I waited until my knees began to throb and I could feel the familiar sensation caused by restricted circulation. There was no sign of potential interruption, so I began the task I had gone there to perform.

I cleared a nine-foot patch of forest floor of leaves, weeds, and other debris, sweeping it to the sides with a handful of sticks. After baring the earth, I scratched a small circle containing a triangle into the earth with the point of my dagger, about three feet in diameter. A thaumaturic symbol used in the binding of spirits and outsiders. I pulled the book out of my knapsack and laid it next to the circle, the hissing whispers once again flooding into my head. I stood up, raised my arms high into the air and summoned my familiar Glothnid. After the brief flash of light, the conjured raven hopped close to me and cocked its head regarding me curiously. I winked at him and said, “Watch this little friend…” I kneeled next to the inscribed circle and pulled a small pouch from my pack. I poured powdered silver into my palm and began sprinkling it into the lines etched in the earth. Following directions from the book, I then drew letters from a long dead arcane language around the perimeter and began reciting the accompanying incantation. The sounds were repetitive and vibrated with power. They were intoxicating, and resonated with memories from hellish places no mortal man has treaded, realms of shadow and flame…
The interior space of the circle began to shimmer like the horizon of a desert on a hot summer day and the vague figure of a small humanoid form began to materialize and coalesce. In a few very short seconds the hunched shape of a small demonic being was leering at me, slick crimson skin pulled taught over a bony frame, razor sharp teeth protruding from a gaping maw, and a flexible scorpion-like tail poised over its shoulder, the tip glistening with a shiny black ichor. It hissed in common “and to whom do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” as it motioned to the smoldering powdered silver in the conjuring circle. I replied with a grin, clucking my tongue, “Tsk tsk infernal one…. You know the danger as well as I in the trading of names.” The little devil chuckled, “It appears this will not be as easy as I hoped. Do you know why the book instructed you to bring me to this world of weak creatures?” I replied casually, “Pray do tell?”
It hissed, “To test you, to see if you are worthy of the power the book can teach you. Many before you have failed, and the consequences of that failure are…….serious. Do you wish me to test you?”
I replied in the same casual voice, “I do..”
Quicker then the human eye could follow the creature lunged for me, its tail whipping around in an arch, seeking to inject its venom into my heart. I did not move. I did not flinch. The inscriptions around the circle flared white, and the lines of the circle itself flashed violet and the creature fell to the ground twitching as if electric current had entered its body. It gasped for breath. A perplexed look on its angular face.
Still without moving I said, “Now, let me explain what has happened to you. The test the book had in mind was passed even before you arrived. I easily discovered there was a small portion of the symbology of the containment circle intentionally left out of the instructions. I insured it was added.”
The creature screeched in rage, circling in a feral manner, “And what do you want of me?”
I put my finger to my lower lip, tapping it in apparent thought, “Now that is a question I think I can answer. Really, the only thing I wanted was to see the look on your face when you nearly electrocuted yourself. The book is already giving me its secrets.”
The creature hissed, “You lie! The book does not give the power that easy.”
With a blank look bereft of emotion, I began to chant and the glowing lines of a gate flashed nearby and disappeared. The devil began laughing. “I see….”
What he was going to say was cut short though when the ground where the gate had disappeared began to push up and a skeletal hand erupted from the damp sod. Its eyes widened as the skeletal warrior pulled itself out of the earth. The undead creature shambled towards the devil and stopped within an arms length from the circle and me. Glothnid cackled in the branches above us. I snapped my fingers and the skeletal warrior thrust its rusty blade into the body of the little devil and it screamed as it died in agony…
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on November 27, 2006, 06:12:32 pm
Acron’s Book has begun whispering barely discernable words woven into its constant chatter that I think I have made out to be “Black Wizards.” I have heard incomplete rumors and shadowy stories that are probably mostly fiction. I have decided to begin a serious investigation into who they are. Perhaps they are another path to power…… I have written a letter to someone who may know more.

Ozymandias Llewellyn,

I have heard you are a very knowledgeable historian and Bard. My reason for writing you is an inquiry into the commission of a historical document outlining the record of the Black Wizards. This piece is for my private collection and confidentiality in any type of transaction involving this subject matter is imperative. It must be complete and detail names, places, dates, etc. If this type of work is within your ability, please leave a sealed note with Erag in Hlint with a date and time where we can meet to discuss the work. If there is no reply, either I will assume this is a subject you do not wish to delve into, or you have no interest.

Sincerely,
Stygian Achnuman
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on November 28, 2006, 03:47:20 pm
I walked into the stifling warmth of the Wild Surge and strode across the hall towards the kitchen, looking to the shadows and scanning the faces of all present. As I approached Erag the Undertaker I said ‘ I am Stygian Achnuman, has anyone left a message with you for me?” Without saying anything he reached into his black robes and withdrew a folded parchment closed with a wax seal. I took it in one hand and replaced it with several gold coins from the other. He turned around and walked away.

I found a table in a darkened corner and snapped the seal in half, tipping the parchment to catch the light from a nearby lantern.

Stygian Achnuman

One of the most important parts of gaining knowledge of any value off my person is to seek me out, the hard way. I am often in Hlint. I wish you luck in finding me as I spend most of my time lurking invisible.

O. L. L.

I put my finger to my lower lip, tapping it in apparent thought, gazing into the candle flickering on my table. “Invisible….”
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on December 05, 2006, 11:51:56 am
I made myself a more frequent visitor in Hlint, hoping to catch sight of the illusive Ozymandias Llewellyn. He has lived up to his words in his last letter to me and has proved to be a hard person to find. I spent several fruitless days searching, teeth grinding in frustration, when I walked out of the bank and saw him talking with a small group of people. I casually made my way across the street and stood next to the tree in front of the gates to the graveyard, and watched. He immediately picked up on my surveillance and walked the short distance to my spot and said “Well lad?”
I responded, “ I am Stygian, I recently wrote to you.”
Ozymandias said, “ahhhh….Of course. I’d ask you what you wanted to do with that lot, but by your garb I can guess. Find and speak with Rufus Coldfinger.”
I said “Thank you.” as he turned on his heel and returned to his group.

 I opened the door to the Wildsurge and made my way to a corner table. I took a seat, tipped back my chair on two legs and tapped my finger on my lower lip in apparent thought. - I have never heard of this Rufus Coldfinger. I would have to deduce he is a mage though. Where to start? I’ll probably have to expend some gold and hire someone to find him. I plopped the legs of the chair back on the ground and extracted a quill, ink vial, and parchment from one of my bags. I scratched out a quick note:

I am seeking to employ someone skilled in locating a person who may not necessarily want to be found. Delivery of a parcel will be part of this job. There may be a high level of danger involved, and confidentiality is expected. Respond on this notice with your name and I will set up a time for an interview….

Stygian Achnuman

I posted it on the public board and left the Inn to complete other business.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on December 12, 2006, 11:40:57 am
I sat on the ground next to the old weeping willow again. The buzzing of the crickets and croaking of frogs was blending well with the hissing whispering in my head. This place has become comforting, secluded from the prying eyes of the residents of Hlint. A place where I can contemplate arcane lore, and experiment… The townsfolk would not take kindly to my craft, and there is no need to upset them or make my life uncomfortable with animosity or undue attention. Too many potential tools in that “tool shed.”

I gazed at the new book I had recently acquired from the dwarf Gimli. I paid him well for it, and he is proving to be a valuable asset, both for his fighting prowess, and his uncanny knack for recognizing items that may be of interest to me. A fascinating item containing several enchantment spells for charming. Not my forte, but not unfamiliar either. It may prove useful in the future.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on December 16, 2006, 01:59:43 pm
There have been several inquiries into my post for a skilled seeker of persons. The results have been either silence or refusal after it was conveyed that the person I am looking for is Rufus Coldfinger. Gilli accepted the job though. It is dangerous, but he should be more then capable. If he is killed for his effort, I will have to find another. Hope not, but fate is fate….. He has also proven to be a valuable asset. He is good at heart though, so care will have to be taken to not ostracize him. His projected innocence belies a sharp intelligence.

Ozymandias has once again imparted some valuable advice, this time in regards to my post seeking an instructor for the language of the devilkin. He seems to be in the right place at the right time all too often. Almost as if he is watching all that transpires and through divination or machination makes an entry at the opportune moment to steer the situation in a certain direction. Might be envy on my part, I’m not sure. *chuckles* He wrote: “The very nature of the language of the infernal pits of the Baator is a cruel callous thing. Not easily spoken by a mortal tongue, I would suggest preparing to spend one or two years learning even the basics. I would advise in studying the infernal beings deeply to understand their mentality before embarking on a quest to understand their language. I give you full warning that those that deal with devils fair far worse then those that deal with demons.” His advice is well grounded, and I have made the decision to begin study in the local libraries. Demons are machines of destruction, weapons, but the Baator are power…
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on December 24, 2006, 03:45:52 pm
Gilli has been partially successful with his undertaking. He has located where Rufus Coldfinger resides and has slipped a note under the door requesting a meeting. It turned out to be on the Barbarian Isles. If the audience is granted, he will deliver my parcel. It is now a waiting game. I am patient though…
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 02, 2007, 02:36:40 pm
The night was a rough one. The whispering from the book was incessant, wrapping its tendrils into my very dreams. Sleep was tumultuous and bestowed very little by way of recuperation. My eyes were blood shot and swollen from lack of sleep. I wish my head had been clearer for the conversation with Ozymandias the next day because the amount of knowledge that was being fed to me was staggering. He initially asked me how my progress with the infernal language was going. I found it a little humorous to regurgitate a phrase that I had heard him utter days earlier near his house on Dregar. Having heard most native languages spoken in the past, I hazarded a guess that it was infernal: “Cmak or J Cmyyji `Ryz Dra Ramm yk…” His response was a laugh and an inquiry as to who my teacher was, or if I was only keen on repeating his cursing. We then got into an in depth conversation, which I will record here. It will do a great deal in assisting with me in learning the language of the Baator.

Ozymandias: “Ever notice how when you go to speak a different language you change how you think? This in itself is what makes the outer planes languages so difficult, as they are a far greater leap of perceptive change. This goes to the extent that in fact using them will gradually change you.”

I replied: “A change in ones thinking?”

Ozymandias: “Indeed, they are manipulative languages by their very nature. Converting one to join their very ethos.”

I replied: “Conversion via speech….interesting. Are there arcane energies weaved into the speech?”

Ozymandias: “Of a more subtle sort then what most are used to. As you learn things, doors in your mind are unlocked, and as you are taught your perceptions change. This is universal, all things do this. With the outer planes though, thought defines life more strongly then here. So the languages born of it focus on parts of the mind. To speak the tongue of devils properly, one must adopt a stance akin to them. Unlike the tongue of say elves, which can be spoken or sung without any particular change in emotions.”

I replied: “So…Since speech is a vehicle of thought, and thought has a strong influence on reality, it is sort of like weaving a spell?

Ozymandias: “Very much so. The outer planes ones however twist the mind much rougher, as they are further from the norm then others.”

I replied: “So…Strong will and directed purpose must be used when speaking them?”

Ozymandias: “Indeed, strong will to keep oneself, and directed purpose to speak them at all. Anyone at anytime can speak the words themselves, they are just syllables. However, they will convey no meaning and sound bloody odd.”

I replied: “And to convey meaning one must be able to understand the way of thinking of the race originating the language...”

Ozymandias: Indeed, with the outer planes that is mandatory Stygian. Elves and humans think very much alike, so the changes in thought are minor. However, the difference between mortal and outsider is significant.

I replied: “And there lies the difficulty, that is if one wants to convey more then syllables with no meaning, gleaned from books and conversation.”

Ozymandias: “Mmmm…and why it takes so long to learn a language like that. Elven can be garnered in months with practice and aptitude.

A feral and dangerous elven-looking woman approached Ozymandias soon after our conversation, and the rough sound of what I guessed to be the infernal dialect of the devil-kind was soon being exchanged. I began copying much of what I was hearing, heedless to grammar, relying on phonetics. Tapping my finger on my lower lip, deep in thought, I make a mental note to use this information when I hit the library again.

(OCC// Keille‘Leugh was the one speaking to Ozymandias)
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 02, 2007, 10:34:02 pm
I am sitting in the Wild Surge Inn, a darkened corner lit by feeble candle flame and with a small smile on my lips. Today a newcomer to Hlint approached me with a request for enchantments, offering to pay for them. I charged him a paltry 30 True for a variety of spells. He gave his name as Rotaris. The third time he approached me I had a delightful thought. I offered to return his coin and provide as many enchantments as he desired for the rest of the day in return for a favor to be announced at a future date, and a lock of his hair. Foolishly, and without thought he sawed off some his hair and gave it to me. I think the favor and the price he will pay at a future date will far exceed the true he saved…. *Chuckles and leans back in the chair*
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 09, 2007, 06:47:17 pm
I sat on the damp ground with my back to the old, gnarled weeping willow. The wind had died and the branches and leaves of the surrounding trees hung limp, like condemned criminals hanging from the gallows. I had been sitting there for hours, the buzzing of the book hissing and instructing. I wondered aloud if there were others who could hear the book’s dark directives. The sound of my rasping voice, parched from lack of water, brought me back to the surface, and I clung to that realization like a drowning sailor grasping at passing jetsam and flotsam.

The book has been telling me for weeks that my familiar Glothnid must be abandoned. The very idea wrenched at my heart. He had been with me for so long. A faithful and self-sacrificing servant, but I know it must be so. Not only because the book has been prodding, but because Glothnid himself has been manifesting discomfort. I am sure he can sense the black tendrils of the book swirling about me, feeding me, making me strong. Of late, the old raven has taken to sitting in the trees at a distance, cocking its head and eyeing me with concern and…. Fear. The thought angered me. I clamored to my knees and extended my left hand, baring the palm to the foul air. With my right hand, I unsheathed my dagger and cut a shallow wound across the left. As the blood began to swell out of the nick, I began intoning the incantation I had been learning. The bright white light of a gate opened and the hideous floating form of a small beholder-kin floated out. Eyestalks waved and the large central eye gazed at me balefully. It lunged forward and opened a mouth bristling with multitudes of sharp pointed teeth. My response was a swift slap to the side of its body. It immediately withdrew a foot or so. “Hear me beholder-kin. I am Stygian Achnuman, and I am your master! Serve me well and without question and you will be rewarded greatly. Disappoint me… and you will know great pain. Do you understand me? A soft-spoken voice entered my mind, “Yes my master. I shall serve.” The round form of the eyeball rocked back in forth in what seemed an affirmative gesture.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 13, 2007, 01:10:11 pm
It has been roughly 5 months since the beginning of my quest to learn the infernal language. It is very difficult. I have spent many weeks in the libraries of Spellgard and Port Hampshire, digging into dusty tomes and ancient manuscripts. The wisdom conveyed by Ozymandias on Augra 24, 1410 has been invaluable and has opened up my mind’s eye to numerous meanings and grammatical anomalies in the language of the Baator. The language on face value is rough and barbaric, but when you look into the deeper levels, there are complex double meaning and hidden discourse promising power, pain, and destruction. In comparing the notes I took from my eavesdropping on the conversation between Ozymandias and the elven-looking woman and my current research, I am finding familiar words and phrases from which I am grasping wisps of meaning. The majority is still elusive though…..
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 20, 2007, 09:23:56 am
Gilli approached me today. He looked obviously uncomfortable, glancing furtively into the shadows for hidden watchers. He said, “Can we go somewhere less populated to talk?” I said, “Certainly, we can find a quiet table at the Wildsurge.” Still looking wary he nodded affirmatively. After finding a secluded table he said, “The message has been delivered.” I chuckled and said “ And your limbs are all intact, it was obviously a successful mission on more then one account.” He laughed and said, “Yes, and I’m here to collect the balance of my payment.” I reached into a pouch at my side and pulled out a leather bag fat with gold coin. “This is the remainder of what I owe you. 3,000 True. I may have more work for you in the near future.” Gilli accepted the offered bag, balancing it lightly in his right hand as if calculating the weight, and said, “Sure, let me know.” He then stood up and departed. I leaned back in my chair deep in thought, thinking of the possible outcomes of my actions…


*** The Package***

*A sealed parchment envelope bearing the black wax seal of a small human skull*

Master Coldfinger,

Power is a seductive and often illusive lover. She tempts and teases, and often appears to be just out of reach. I have been chasing her for some time, and she has whispered the name “Black Wizards” in my ear often. My search to find answers to this little puzzle has led me to you with both great expense and effort. I write to you with a request for apprenticeship. I do not seek membership in the afore mentioned order…yet.

I have attained the 10th circle as a solitary mage. My specialty is necromancy. My value and potential can be great. I am well received in the settlements of Mistone and can easily serve as your eyes, ears, and hands. I am discreet and have a keen mind for intrigue. In the quest for power, a true practitioner of the Art must be prepared to walk into the abyss. It is my sincere desire that you consider my request and judge me worthy of your instruction.

I can be contacted most often in Hlint.

In Darkness and Shadow, I await your summons,

-Stygian Achnuman
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 23, 2007, 12:36:02 pm
My studies concerning the language of the devil-kin is progressing well. I am able to read and write many phrases now. The pronunciation is the most difficult part, and I will need more practical application to refine it. Many of the words are hard for my tongue to wrap around, but I stumble much less now.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 24, 2007, 11:28:36 am
*Deep in study at the Arcane Tower, intent on the faded ink of a great dusty tome* Muttering to himself and taking the following notes: The nuances of denotation and connotation that are a part of everyday language are a serious problem in the language of the devil-kin. To be faithful to the dialect, it must capture the feeling and emotion as well as the meaning, whether it is friendly, threatening, formal, informal, or even deliberately obscure. See notes from conversation with Ozymandias, this evidence seems to offer support for his statements.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 28, 2007, 10:01:26 pm
Today I made a trip to Raven’s Watch again, with Gilli as my guide. Master Coldfinger has requested my presence in regards to the missive I recently sent to him. I had many hours to think on the voyage, and leaned on the railing of the boat, staring at the passing ice flows as the prow cut through the cold gray whitecaps. Gulls screeched from the sky as they wheeled around the vessel in tight fast circles. It also gave me time to dissect several occurrences in Hlint that happened before I departed on my journey. The one I have begun to refer to as “The angry mage”, Rhynn, walked up while I waited upon my guide, and struck up a conversation. After discovering that I was waiting for Gilli, and that I was leaving, she smiled and said, “Bring a heavier cloak because it is cold up there.” I raised an eyebrow, to which she replied, “Now who you do you think told Gilli?” Testing the waters, I replied, “It is cold in many places.” She quickly smirked and quipped, “Don’t play dumb, I know what you're up to and want to wish you luck; and caution.” This gave me pause, and room for concern. I was aware Gilli had been asking around in his preliminary investigation into Master Coldfinger, but not that he had mentioned my name. Has she put two and two together? Does she have any idea of what I plan? Why does she even have an interest? Is the Halfling more careless then I have assumed? Definitely, some avenues I will have to look into. Too many avenues…
Soon after, Ozymandias approached and greeted the two of us. He immediately cast two spells I easily recognized as See Invisibility, and Legend Lore. I covertly looked to the shadows and at those that were passing by or loitering. Were we being watched? I am usually a keen observer and did not see, or feel anything awry. I also wondered what he was trying to divine. Was he trying to discern my intentions or actions? At the time, I chalked the whole affair up to my nerves and apprehensions in regards to my summons, but now, as the salty spray of the sea reached up to caress the skin of my face, I am not as sure…

The biting cold of the Isle was crawling through my very veins. The two of us approached the house of Rufus Coldfinger. I paid the Halfling for his services and offered to let him depart, but he insisted on making the introduction, as that is what he was tasked to do. I chuckled inwardly because I was sure he was only afraid of appearing to fail to any degree in his task. Almost on cue, the door swung outward without either of us touching the locking mechanism…

As I walked into the interior of the necromancer’s abode I was greeted by warm air, the smell of burning incense, and the grey-clad figure of Master Coldfinger standing in the entryway. I could literally feel his gaze brushing across my body, the hackles standing on the back of my neck. I smiled in the shadowed confines of my hood. He motioned to some couches near a fireplace and said, “Come, take a seat, but the Halfling should stay further away, as he has nothing to do with this at the moment.” Gilli replied in a quiet voice, “I was actually going to take my leave, unless I'm needed later?” Rufus Coldfinger nodded slightly and said, “I see no need for you to stay.” The words were barely finished before he was out the door, “Very good, I'll leave the two of you to your business then…” The door shut softly behind me. We sat on expensive velvet and leather couches opposite each other. I laid my staff aside and waited patiently for Rufus to speak. After what seemed an eternity, but in reality was probably only a few heartbeats, he leaned back and asked, “Who is this Halfling to you?”
I replied, “A tool…”
He said, “And I assume he knows nothing of your visit's goal?”
I replied, “Unless he opened the letter...no. You would have known if it was opened though...correct?”
He said, “Yes, but don't you think he was able to add two and two together when he heard what other people were saying when they heard my name from him?”
I said, “He was only interested in the gold... Gold can buy many things, including silence. It would also be unhealthy for him to add two and two… And unprofitable.”
He smiled, his eyes never leaving mine, and said, “In such instances even more coin usually opens the tight lips once again...but let's leave it that.” After a pause, he shifted his weight slightly, arranged the edge of his cloak, and spoke again, “Tell me, why I would require your assistance in any way? You said it yourself, gold can buy many things.
I replied, “And as you said, even more gold can buy the exact opposite. I seek power, and for power, you would have my unwavering allegiance... You are feared. I am not. That in itself has value.”
Rufus spread his hands, lifting his arms a bit and said, “But by sharing what I have and not receiving anything in return I loose. You speak of your allegiance, but what good is it for?”
I replied, “I have no illusions harbored concerning a relationship between you and I. I would be a tool, and by being used as a tool, I would gain knowledge, experience, and...Power. As a tool, I would better enable you to perform your own work.”
Rufus looked at me for a few moments, weighing what he was about to say, “So I will have to always keep you on a short leash, since our relationship will be strictly business. That would mean you would be willing to stab me in the back when somebody offered more…”
I raised an eyebrow, “It could mean that... but it does not. I would have the same reaction if I were in your stead. The leash will get longer in time. That is a given.
Rufus smiled as he replied, “I have ways to accomplish that, perhaps a spiked collar to control you?
I chuckled, “Perhaps. That is, if the leash is offered…”
Rufus replied, “Very well, I see what you wish, and what you are able to offer, but do you know what you are getting yourself into? Besides potential endless power?” He smiled as he said that last part.
I replied, “As I said in my letter...To obtain true power, one must be willing to step into the abyss... The endless power is a fringe benefit.”
He leaned forward, “So you are willing to accept all hmm?”
I replied without hesitation, “If I were not, I would not be here, but the answer to the question is "yes, I am willing."
He grinned at me and without looking away said, “You remind me of myself many years ago, because of that I am able to guess and imagine what other thoughts are in your head at this moment. Tell me of your past.”

I gave him an abridged version of my past at this point, not divulging too many details. I thought it would not further my goals by letting him know I had killed the man who had owned me as a slave. I simply told him that many years ago I was captured by goblin raiders and sold into slavery to a necromancer named Achron. A foul unwashed little man who specialized in creating undead, and that I had escaped. He did not question me on this any further.

Rufus then asked a very odd question, one I was not totally prepared to consider, “And you have become like him?”
After thinking for a few moments I replied, “I suppose in some ways. I do bathe more though....”
Rufus then said, “So a slave who wants to become a master, or simply a person without another example in front of his eyes?
I replied with a smile, “To obtain power, one must be master of something...”
Rufus replied, “Your answers are rather intelligent, I enjoy that. But here is the fact.” He leaned forward on the couch, looking into my eyes, “Once the "leash" is offered you shall have gold, knowledge, and in time, power, but there will be no way back and the result of betrayal or failure shall and always will be worse than death.”
I replied without hesitation, “I would expect nothing less from one of my own tools....”

At this point, Rufus tested my knowledge on various subjects, primarily history. After awhile he said, “Very well, I enjoy what I hear... But I still need to test you...The Halfling knows too much, you need to get rid of him.”
I replied, “Very well, I will neutralize the threat.”
He said, “Neutralize or eliminate?”
I replied, “They are one and the same....”
He said, “That was the answer I wanted to hear.” He smiled “The death itself is not a necessity at this time. However, you show willingness and that is what matters. Who are we to kill a useful tool hmm?” These were my exact thoughts. My first inclination was some type of mind-wiping spell, but failing that, death may have been a necessity.
I replied, “Aye...They are difficult to find, and a good tool box full to the rim is worth more than gold...”

At this point, it became evident that my request for apprenticeship had been accepted. I was elated and the possibilities going through my mind were endless. We spent several hours after that discussing tasks, and I could barely concentrate on my surroundings as I headed back to the docks at Raven’s Watch. I could not even feel the bitter cold as it sapped the warmth from my body. The return trip was much the same, a blur…
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on February 04, 2007, 10:57:41 pm
I am sitting in the Wild Surge Inn, a plate of half finished food pushed aside to make room for my writing utensils. The parchment is quickly filled with my rapid, fluid writing. I fold the parchment into a makeshift envelope and look around me, seeking those who may be paying more attention to my presence then needed. After I am sure no one is watching, I take out a small stick of black wax and melt a blob onto the flap of the parchment with the candle from the center of the table. I take out a small signet in the shape of a human skull, and press it into the wax, which quickly takes the shape of the metal, and cools after removing the instrument. I then stand up and push the chair closer to the table. Looking around to ensure I am not being followed, I head to the Postmaster to send the missive to my Master…
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on February 07, 2007, 01:52:20 pm
Leaning against my old, gnarled weeping willow, I gazed at the rock. It sat about fifteen feet from me and looked to be some sort of sand stone or other sedimentary rock. The edges were worn smooth, and a good portion of it projected into the damp earth, being reclaimed by the putrid swamp that gave it birth. Atop its red-streaked surface sat the book. Sweat was beading upon my brow, and I was unsure I would be able to accomplish that which I had resolved myself to doing. I walked slowly to the natural pedestal holding the book, and dropped to my knees at its edge. Was I strong enough? Would I survive this act? I slowly caressed the cover with my bare hand, the whispering in my head rising delicately in response. Before I could change my mind, I struck. My arm was a blur of movement and force. The blade of the dagger clutched in my hand struck deep into the pages, and I pushed with all of my might. The reaction was instantaneous. A glass-shattering scream issued from the book, not only in my head, but audible. I was flung onto my back by an unseen force or energy and watched in horror, and glee at what I observed. A face was trying to push itself through the cover, a face I loathed beyond words…the face of Acron. It was in pain, mouth wide, a high-pitched wail still issuing forth. Fear and hatred again welled up inside of me and I quickly scrambled to my feet and began uttering an incantation. The book erupted into an inferno of flame as the pillar of fire from my combust spell erupted from the black cover. As the fire died away and left a pile of ash, there was silence. Utter silence. The voices in my head were gone, and as I had promised myself before, I would never be the slave of another. Not even to a book.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on February 18, 2007, 07:00:36 pm
I have been holed up in this library for three days. My legs are cramped and my eyes are bloodshot from squinting. One of my contacts in Prantz was able to provide me with a very old scroll with some important information relating to the language of the Devil-kin. Not very cheap either. I have made stunning progress through, cross-referencing the material with some of the old tomes here. I am very happy with the progress I am making.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on February 24, 2007, 10:39:26 am
I had a brilliant idea today. I created a whole stack of cards made from parchment with infernal words and phrases written on one side and the common translation on the other. I have been quizzing myself since dawn this morning and feel comfortable with my retention. The pronunciation is getting better and I feel like I am on the right track.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on March 07, 2007, 02:07:28 pm
My head was aching from my recent bout of studying. I was walking by the fountains in Port Hempstead and spied Ozymandias sitting next to the water, deep in thought. I sat across from him and leaned against one of the stone benches.
"I have hit a brick wall in my language studies." I uttered what was probably a badly mangled string of curses in the infernal tongue of the baatzu.

Ozymandias replied: "You need to work on your sentence structure. Jaoj' yrj dyza jaoj myva ky ca yd rrymj orj vyym ky cayd..."
I furrowed my brow, "Jaoj, I remember that word but cannot place it."
Ozymandias replied: "The simple first greeting in infernal is the first words you should know. There are nine all-important phrases. Without them you know nothing. Jaoj is dead or death."
I replied: "Ahhh, of course. I remember now."
Ozymandias said: "However, what you said is not that greeting. The first simple greeting is Knaadyrkk."
I spat the word back: "Knaadyrkk."
Ozymandias said: "As you can imagine, it is informal, inconclusive, and leaves everything open for the imagination. How infernal is structured is not like elven or common. It is mechanically formed. Greeting in a sentence is usually followed by another sentence or phrase in any even remotely official event.
The next greeting is one of the supplicants. One in which you would address a person far superior to yourself...what am I looking for? Ah yes...your master. Even someone who is your master's master, or to the extent that you serve them not directly, but several places removed. Jakyna"
I rolled the word over my lips: "Jakyna."
Ozymandias said: "It is a single word instead of a phrase because you are addressing someone that is much more important than you. You do not want to annoy them with unnecessary words."
I said: "It is rigid, like their society."
Ozymandias said: "The basics of the language are rigid. It is when you converse between equals when it becomes fluid. Also, insulting in infernal is easy. You use as few words as possible to express something. As a master will convey his orders to a peon in as few words as possible because his peons are of no worthy intellect to note."
I said: "So, the word is like a wave of the hand?"
Ozymandias said "Exactly. The less words you use, the less respect you accord those you speak with."

Soon after I excused myself and wandered off to practice these principles.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 09, 2007, 02:18:55 pm
This is a notation of worth. I was sifting through piles of dusty tomes and stacks of scroll tubes in a small bookshop in Leringard when I came across this information. It sparked my imagination and opened up new doors to potential possibilities. I have never been one to rely on gods, have been irreverent, and have always counted on my own faculties to obtain whatever I desired. The small book I discovered was bound in shriveled and dry skin, the type I am very familiar with. *Chuckles* I wonder if the shop keeper knows he carries wares bound in human skin?

I cracked open the pages of the little book and began to read. I am sure my face paled consideraby as realization of what I had in my possession crept across my face. The following is a small excerpt:

In service to the Black Lord, wreak havoc and let death follow in your footsteps. None that live shall hold sway over the harbringers of death. Let the cold embrace of darkness and night hold and protect you during your unholy rites. Offer the living unto death as sacrafice to your Black Lord, and adhere to the seven tenants of the faith, for these cornerstones will be the foundation for everlasting existence.

* Do not fail, for failure is weakness and not tolerated by the Dark One.
* Fear nothing; fear is weakness and a weapon of your enemey.
* You are the instrument of Corath, seek always his will and to spread his influence.
* Obey with utmost diligence.
* Let hatred and malice feed your fury.
* Master oneself that you may master others.
* Mercy is weakness; exact your punishment with the cold malice of death.


I tapped my lower lip in apparent thought, pondering the phrase "the foundation for everlasting existence." Hmmmm... To stave off or defeat death. Interesting. I meandered to the counter and passed a handful of true to the shopkeeper for the book and quietly left. The thought briefly flashed through my mind that my purchase had probably saved his life.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 27, 2007, 12:44:22 am
Someone, or something, is trying to tell me something. I am sure of it. Coincidence is merely webs in intricate plans, some ours and some others. Odds are two are more than chance...
Today I was raiding an area infested with giants near Prantz, and after mortally wounding one of the pathetic brutes made an astounding discovery. The nasty creature was staring into the sky, his eyes already filming over with that familiar white coloring that accompanies death when he spoke my name in a rasping death rattle. "Stygian..." I was shocked at first, for few know my name. And how could such a brute know of me? As the creature died its left hand opened revealing a small leather pouch. I picked it up, loosening the drawstrings to peer inside. Sparkling dust greeted my eyes, black as night, and it seemed to move with a life of its own. It looked similar to other dusts I had found, yet this type I had never seen before. They say the Gods drop magic from their constellations in the night sky, and I have in fact found and used many types in the past. Pursing my lips, I wondered which god had dropped this into the realms of mortal man...
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on May 29, 2007, 08:40:03 pm
I finally have a little time to transcribe another lesson received from Ozymandias on the infernal language.

He was humming a tune when I walked by him near the memorial in Port Hempstead, and he said to me in infernal as I passed by: Knaadyrkk, iy'rk okknyrdyra. M'ngyrk Y kaa?
I replied: Knaadyrkk.
He said: Shall we continue our lessons?
I replied: Yes.. If you have the time.
Still humming he spun his staff a couple of times and said: I do have some, at least for awhile. Questions then?
I said: Yes, we left off with greetings.
Ozymandias said: Ahhh, yes.
I said: The last being that of the supplicant.
Ozymandias said: Yes, the equal, and that of the supplicant and the master.
I said: Jakyna.
Ozymandias chuckled and said: The master and the supplicant varies. However, hmmm I suppose. *coughed softly*
I said: Varies? By inflection, or structure?
Ozymandias shrugged and said: That is what the last five truly are. Five different inflections or structures one uses to address a subordinate.
I said: ahhh.
Ozymandias said: In truth, only the first two are utterly important, the last are instinctual. Once you grow more accustomed to the tongue they will come to you naturally using the other rules of the language.
I said: like the peon analogy you used before?
Ozymandias nodded and said: A simple yet elegant tongue once you are past its bite. If one can use logic before speaking then it is merely application of logic. Which is why I call it the tongue of dark logic. *he laughed softly* There is little to be misiterpreted. Where do your questions truly lay, I can spend decades teaching you various words but I have taught you most of the root words anyway. The language is simply an assembly of syllables afterall. There are not a particularly large number.
I said: My true questions lay in aligning my mind with the energies and intents behind the words, to feel the language as if it were a hand or finger... I wish to be a master.
Ozymandias said: That is the true challenge then. He leaned on his staff and closed his eyes. Order in everything, order is absolute, the better a person is the greater their achievements and the more power they will wield in maintaining and controlling that order. Focus on those things, the very essence of the society that lives the language. Of order and of using that order to benefit oneself and using it to end ones enemies. Not a hard concept really, you do it day in and day out within your society. But it takes a conscious step to recognize, acknowledge, and accept it.
It dawned on me and I said: Yes, I see...
Ozymandias said: Power is gained by the strong, smart, and otherwise worthy with the fiends, and then held only by those strong, smart, and otherwise worthy enough to hold it. A single simple concept that is truly dark, that people should benefit from being better.
I said: To gain power one must indeed be better.
Ozymandias said: Mmmmm, to maintain power one must either do so by beastly brute strength, or by methodically arranging all around them. That is how their society came to be, and their language reflects it. Focus on those things while speaking it and try not to lose yourself to it * he hummed a short tune* The language is more darkness then order. The language of dark order now infects those who speak it, but the weak succumb to it. They become the devils you see now in majority.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on March 07, 2009, 02:22:19 am
I strolled through the main gates of Port Hempstead and drew in a deep breath, savoring the familiar clamor of the vendors and taking in the sights I had abandoned so many years ago. The murmuring of Acron's book in my mind had quieted as the walls of the city crept into sight. This is what it wanted, what it had been pushing me to do for several months, a return to the lands of the weak and corruptible. The little book I purchased from the shop turned out to be very valuable and led me to the war-torn city of Arnax. That is where I have spent close to the last decade learning all I could of the Mad God. It has given me direction and reason. Ironic. Every day seems to be leading me closer to becoming what I once despised so much. *chuckles*
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on March 08, 2009, 03:45:24 am
Within days of arriving in Port Hempstead, opportunity seemed to fall at my feet like long amber stalks of wheat in the field to the scythe of a farmer. Being an opportunist by nature, I grasp at all opportunity, like a drowning sailor to the flotsam and jetsam of a shipwreck. After walking through the main city gate under the watchful gaze of two City Watchmen, I encountered an old man loading a pack animal near one of the vendors with items I recognized from my time with Acron. He was stowing the paraphernalia of the embalmer and mortician; Canopic jars, natron salts, linen rags, alchemists fire, and small iron tools unique to the trade. These things were for use in treating and preserving a corpse. I casually walked up to the old man and introduced myself, asking where he purchased his "trocar", a nasty little device used for draining a body of vital fluids. He looked rather surprised at my casual reference to something rarely seen by anyone without formal mortuary training. I knew it would raise suspicions. He would view me as a potential competitor in the trade, and I would coerce him into taking me in without raising so much as an eyebrow. Over ale at the nearby tavern we discussed the science and techniques of the profession, and I discerned he had no arcane inclinations or knowledge. He soon offered me a job as his apprentice, provided I could obtain a permit from the Gravediggers and Embalmers Guild. As I followed him out of the tavern, I grinned evilly. If he saw the look on my face, I am sure his offer would have been withdrawn in fear. He didn't... Poor him.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on March 26, 2009, 01:12:04 am
The old mortician's name was Greace Stellon. He was very prosperous and rented a spacious flat not too far from the Port Hempstead docks. He had few friends and acquaintances, which was perfect for what I had in mind. I was pleasantly surprised. His business would become an integral part of future schemes. I was unsure though if this was the path I was going to commit myself to. There would be no turning back. The whispers of the book prodded me though, urged me to put my feet onto the road.

The first three months were routine. I assisted Greace with embalming, mummifications, cremations, and burials. He had an annoying habit of constantly muttering and pointing out reasons why he was the superior mortician, and how lucky I was to have a master such as himself to take me in. I had to be very careful to conceal my necromantic tools, and I often caught him snooping about, asking pointed and probing questions.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on March 30, 2009, 12:00:03 am
*I sat down at my large wooden desk in my suite at the "Arms", leaned back in my chair, and tapped my lower lip with a forefinger, deep in thought. A strange occurrence took place a few days earlier in the craft hall at Port Hempstead. For some reason I could not get it out of my mind, returning to it and reflecting. A robed and hooded stranger had approached me. He asked me in a low voice what I thought of another crafter at a nearby station, and if it inspired me. The other crafter was a rich merchant, the adornments of wealth draped around his body in the form of rare gems, gold, silver, and expensive clothing. The closest to a peacock a man could come. "My initial response was that what he had should be mine." The stranger had asked "but should a man not be able to enjoy the fruits of his labors?" I of course agreed. Yet it pulled at the edges of my mind, and I knew not why. Why would it inspire me? Why? Perhaps it was because the foolish merchant was treading a pointless path. He was mastering his craft and gathering wealth to impress others. Flaunting what he had and his accomplishments to his peers as a testimony to his prowess. I on the other hand endeavor to master my crafts in order to master others, for by mastering others lay a road to power. *I chuckled coolly* Men like that would think they were enjoying their fruits, but they would in fact be puppets on my invisible strings, dancing to my song, and walking to the beat of my drums...unknowingly of course. I pursed my lips and mouthed the words... "Master oneself that you may master others." I walked to my bed, reached under my pillow, and confirmed that the small black book was still there. I laid down and tried to go to sleep, the encounter still vivid in my mind.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 12, 2009, 08:11:43 pm
The stranger appeared again in the parks surrounding the craft halls in Port Hempstead and asked an intriguing question while I was contemplating a family standing next to a fountain, a small child frolicking around the cool water. I wonder why his presence and questions do not bother me or make me suspicious. The whispering of the book has also quieted since my return. I do not understand why. He asked me what I felt when I watched the family...

A child obeys as it is directed, diligent in pleasing a greater force in its life, and reaps rewards or punishment according to its actions. Parents look pleased when directions are followed, and become forces of pain when they are not. One lesson so few learn. By obeying with utmost diligence, one can often obtain a position of great power and thereby command that same subservience of others.

How did it make me feel though? It made me feel very little. It was as if I were a scholar looking at a test subject, objective and sterile...
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 26, 2009, 02:40:25 am
The stranger appeared again at the bank in Port Hempstead and slipped into the alleyway behind the building. I thought he was watching me again. Strange. Why is he following me and asking these questions? I meant to find out. He led me deep into the slums, an area infested with cutpurses and thugs. It did not concern me though. After a few twists and turns we came to a narrow side street that culminated in a small cul-de-sac. There was a man and a woman bound and gagged sitting next to a wall. Their eyes were frantic and full of fear. He asked me in a low voice, "Choose one to die." I asked if there was a reason and if I was to be privy to it. He simply said "If one were to die, which would you choose." I thought about it for a minute. It seemed the man would have more tangible value, so I said the woman. It was a surreal moment. The whole incident left me numb. The stranger pulled out a sickle, walked up to the man, and casually slit his throat. He then laughed, no... giggled and walked away leaving me in the alley with the twitching and bleeding corpse of the man and the bound and gagged woman. She looked at me intensely, her fear tangible like a thick coastal fog. She saw my face. I was sure of it. I thought about my predicament for what seemed like an eternity and could come up with only one option that would preserve my freedom, and perhaps life. I knelt by her and smoothed the hair back from her forehead and whispered a string of arcane words. Her skin immediately began to blacken, wither, and fall away from the bone as the magic I called forth sucked the vitality and life from her body, transferring it to me. In moments she was dead. I could not afford a witness placing me at the scene of a murder. It made me feel a little sadness and remorse... but it was necessary.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on June 12, 2009, 01:52:25 am
The hooded figure with no name appeared at my home near Prantz. Why was I not surprised? He walked into my home as if he owned it, and I felt anger begin to burn in the pit of my stomach, an incantation on the tip of my tongue readied to turn him into a pillar of flame and pain if I so chose. I indulged him though, in order to learn more of who he was and why I was being watched and followed.

We sat in front of the warm fire in my comfortable chairs and I listened to his words. The sounds and syllables he uttered were quiet, almost reptilian in their quality, but the meaning behind them was profound. He asked me what The Mad God valued. And the crux of the matter was laid bare... He was a servant of the God I had been worshipping in silence and darkness for years. Corath was opening a door for me. I knew this with a certainty as solid as the stone foundations of dwarven halls. The Black Sun had visited his favor on me three times over the years, dropping the dust from his star at my feet. Those ebony sands containing the essence of death's hands were stowed safely away in my bags, but they paled when compared to this new revelation. The words that were whispered in my ear burned my soul and coalesced into divine truth in my mind's eye. Hatred. My god valued hatred. And I was full of it. Hatred had made me into who I was. Hatred for my previous master whom I had killed with his own knife. Hatred of myself for being weak enough to be made a slave. Hatred of Toranites. Hatred of those with more than I. Hatred for this fool whom I needed to tell me what was so obvious because I was too blinded to see.

He departed and said I would be watched. After he was gone, I leapt from my chair and flung a small ball of fire at the table in my dining room accompanied by a shriek of rage. It blew into shattered pieces. A small rivulet of spittle ran down my chin as my hatred diminished into a low smoldering slag. A small hoarse whisper emanated from behind a room divider, "Master, shall I follow him and report to you?" Long fingers capped by razor sharp talons and a small red fiendish face showed around the edge. I regained my composure and said "No, he will return. He is not deemed a threat...yet."
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on July 29, 2009, 01:56:06 am
Several months ago a traveler in the outskirts of Port Hempstead approached me and offered me three tasks. He was gifted in the Al'Noth because he could see through my invisibility spell as if it were a cantrip. This was rather disturbing, and I was immediately on my guard.

The first task was to find an individual by the name of "The Slavemaster and give him a message that his master wishes him to return to the tower in the land covered in shadow. The second task was to acquire a heart-feather of The Bird Lord and deliver it to Milara's tower. I was awed, and also keen on surviving this encounter because at that point I believed I was actually speaking to the ruler from the Mountains of Madness. The third task was to find the Blood of the Statue of the Islands.

I immediately dispatched agents to begin seeking information. One of my better ones may have found the lead I have been looking for on the "Slavemaster." He uncovered a connection to a man named Revone Star. I penned a message as "Adder" in the hopes of sending him to the shadowed land, if it is indeed him.

**This message may be intended for you, and then again, it may not. At great expense I have obtained your name from one of my agents. If the words that follow ring true, then hasten to do your Master's bidding. If not, burn this note and forget that you ever laid eyes on the runes contained within.

This letter was to be laid in the hands of the "Slave Master", and I dearly hope that you are he. Your Master tasked me with delivering you a message. Return to the tower in the lands that where wrapped in shadow, for he waits for you there. When he asks who set your feet back on the path, respond " A humble traveler in the outskirts of Port Hempstead named Adder."**

I can now only wait and see what muddy water swirls to the surface.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on August 20, 2009, 02:29:56 am
Interesting how fate can throw you a bone once in a while. I had made my way into a small revine looking for a cave that might produce some copper ore when I was ambushed by goblins. Vile little creatures. Their arrows snapped as they hit my wards and I quickly dispatched the archers on the cliffs with a volley of energy. They died writhing in pain, and I grinned. I turned and cut down the next group following me into the small canyon with a stroke of lighting. They crackled and burned. The smell of roasting flesh laced the breeze. There were only two left, and the most curious thing occured. The smaller of the two lifted his hand and pointed at the other goblin. A single magic missle materialized and hit the other goblin, killing him.

A goblin with a talent for the Al'Noth had just betrayed his fellow and was now simply looking at me. I chuckled to myself and watched him for about a minute. He was simply waiting for his death. I motioned for him and said "Follow." Corath has provided me with a tool it seems.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on November 28, 2009, 02:04:14 am
I instructed Eyebite, my goblin servant to sit in one of the wingback chairs in my living room. "I require you to begin instructing me in your native language, do you understand me? Eyebite replied "Yesss.. Mastersss."

I nodded my head, "Very good. We will start this by you translating these words from common to goblin." I gave him a long list of place and person names. We spent several hours perfecting pronunciation and practicing translation back in forth for both languages. After we were finished I gave him a large piece of meat and told him to go to his quarters for the night. We had business to attend to in the morning.

//OOC This was approximately 30 minutes of in-game RP.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on December 12, 2009, 09:33:15 pm
The message is left inside a canister sealed with wax, the seal is stamped with an ornate insignia which is almost abstract. Upon closer inspection, you may notice that it may either be a Dragon or a Demon devouring a withered head.

I am in need of your enchanting services, and I will patronize your services should you be able to enchant emeralds and diamonds without failure. Name your price and conditions, leave your message at the One Eyed Harpy, and I shall respond in a timely fashion.

Naster
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on December 12, 2009, 09:39:56 pm
*Stygian receives the message, and after some time examining the insignia in more detail, he carefully removes and preserves it for further research. He pens a quick response and glances up as the small devil crawls into the chair next to him, wrapping its double-ended tail around it's body.*

Naster, I can perform those services for you. If you provide the materials, diamonds will cost you 50 true each, and emeralds will cost you 1,000 true. Any risk in enchanting the emeralds will be borne by you and will not obligate me for replacement or compensation.

-Adder

*Stygian hands the letter to the small devil. "Deliver this to the One Eyed Harpy, and insure that you are not seen by anyone."
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on December 13, 2009, 12:08:13 am
I met with this "Naster" in Vehl today to discuss his enchanting and alchemy needs. The same insignia on his initial message, a Dragon or a Demon devouring a withered head, was seen through the folds of his cloak on his armor. He was hooded, so I could not discern any facial details. I made a decision to test the waters and see what he is capable of, and what he would be willing to do. I had been planning a ritual for the Mad God and offered to exchange my services for him providing a young elven male freshly killed during the "witching hours." He agreed to look into the matter and inform me if he would be able to complete the task. I provided for his needs and told him to send word when my "order" had been filled.

I head out from Vehl to the libraries in Spelgard on the morrow to research the symbol he uses. I want to know who he is, after all, knowledge is power.

//In game role play with Gelooo's character Ni'haer Helvivirr.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on December 13, 2009, 04:54:48 pm
The agent I hired to find the Slave Master has returned some very disappointing news. After great expense in coin and time the identity of the Slave Master has been discovered, but it appears he has been killed. *Grimaces*

I finish scratching a message onto the parchment, fold it in half, and seal it with a blob of hot wax. I take out a silver skull signet ring and press it into the pliable material. I snap my fingers and a small red devil materializes from invisibility next to me, it's long forked tail whipping back and forth slowly. There is a long silence as I stare at the folded parchment and contemplate the ramifications of sending the message. I would be placing myself in league with one of the most powerful and evil beings in this world, a destroyer, and a creature capable of ascending to god-hood if he chose to focus on that path. After what seems an eternity I hold it toward the red devil and say in a low voice, "Take this to Milara's Throne."

The red devil immediately freezes, no movement is discernible. After several heartbeats it moves forward to take the parchment, and disappears into invisibility again.

//PM was sent to "L". I believe he originally was the one playing Milara when the three tasks were given to me.

Agent hired that provided the information was Xaltotun's  character Eleandilethessa Quil'lyn.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 02, 2010, 01:19:44 pm
Two large cargo vessels, escorted by three military vessels anchored just outside of Port Hempstead's harbor. They bore the overly familiar banners of Rael. A smaller vessel was lowered into the water and a representative accompanied by several human guards made their way into the city to talk to the authorities. A few hours later, food supplies were ferried ashore, enough to feed many a mouth. I heard some of the hungry mutter thanks to Lord Rael the Benevolent, and this sickened me. When the weak turn to one more powerful in their time of need opportunities can be created, but in this case nothing but trouble would be the result, for me anyway... My business operations in Prantz are difficult. Rael rules with an iron hand, and his troops are nearly incorruptible fanatics. He also imposed restrictions on use of the Al Noth. A pain in the arse.

A few days later, the ships departed, yet nobody saw the emissary return to the ships... Rumors about an ambassadorship soon surfaced. I have decided to nip this problem in the bud, for lack of better words. I contacted my best agent, Ma Baker and have taken out a contract for the assassination of the want-to-be ambassador. I have requested it to be very public and messy.

Roughly a week later Ma Baker set up a meeting. Interesting enough she was seeking information on my Corathite ritual. She must have connections to Naster, and I made a quick mental note. I gave her a little tidbit, stating it was religious in nature and refused to answer more.

She informed me that the assassination is preceding and they are in the intelligence gathering stage. This indicates she has access to resources that may prove valuable in the future. She asked about other agents and I merely told her to consider them as competitors. If they fall they were not worthy to be employed by me. She seemed to enjoy that response.

She informed me that she goes by another name for this type of work... "Duchess." I reciprocated and gave her my business name. This may prove to be fruitful if I can begin opening up a market with some of her underworld contacts for goods and services.

As of now, I eagerly await the results of these actions. The sense of power one gains from ordering the death of another is proving to be somewhat... intoxicating. *chuckles*
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 02, 2010, 01:28:28 pm
I heard a voice in the air. It was unmistakably arcane in nature, if it was real. A barmaid at the Harpy was standing no less than two feet from me and gave no indication of hearing anything. It raised the hair on the back of my neck.

"You suppose much, nothing is impossible. Send this agent."

I knew it was Milara. With these words I thought I detected the faint odor of decaying flesh, but then it was gone. I contacted Ma Baker soon afterward and informed her that her presences was required at the Throne of Milara. If she survives this she will prove to be a most capable agent indeed. If she survives...

//PM received from "L." PM sent to Xaltotun.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 19, 2010, 01:04:54 am
I leaned on my crystal skull-topped staff in the shadows of Vehl, watching and listening. The crippled and limping figure that was the focus of my scrutiny had just scarred a band of young thugs away with a small warping of the Al'Noth... a cantrip. The young man seemed to show some amusement at their fear and hasty retreat. Without looking down to my left side, where I knew the invisible red devil also watched, I whispered "Follow him and watch. Report back to me in two days."

The young man looked angry, and if he harbored the small spark of hatred I knew must smolder within his heart, I might be able to fan it into a consuming flame that could mold him into a valuable tool.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on January 19, 2010, 01:11:30 am
After two days I located the young man in Fort Vehl and approached him. After some cursory questioning and conversation I determined I was correct. He did indeed have that small spark of hatred. I sowed the seed and now wait to see if the sprout unfurls... If he shows up in Haftlake with his possessions, his feet will be directed onto the path of the Dark Lord.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on February 03, 2010, 08:49:49 pm
Stygian lounged in the chair in front of the fireplace in his Haft Lake residence deep in thought. The nubile and curvy body of his consort was stretched out on a rug close to the fire, thin bat-like wings wrapped around her body to hide her nakedness. She pulled a small red hot cinder out of the coals with her bare fingers and flicked it at the small red devil perched on the edge of the wood pile. She laughed softly as the devil hissed at her and jumped away.

Stygian says in a quiet voice, almost as if it were for his own benefit only "It appears our cripple who exhibited so much promise does not have the courage to tread the left hand path. A shame."
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on February 17, 2010, 10:38:00 pm
Stygian pursed his lips in thought. He was somewhat at a loss. Any indication of who Naster was had eluded him thus far. It appeared there was no reference to his insignia in any known library he had access to. Vacha, his most recent servant and consort had walked into the room. She was dressed in a flimsy night dress that barely concealed her form and she chuckled as she put her arms around Stygian's shoulders.

Stygian ran his finger a long the side of Vacha's face, moving a strand of ebony hair around one of the small horns jutting from her forehead. Her body was voluptuous and curvy, in all of the right proportions. In darkness she could easily be mistaken for a beautiful human woman, if one were able to overlook the small bat-like wings sprouting from her back and the obvious cloven hooves.

"Vacha, There is one who goes by the name of Naster He can often be found in Vehl. He has accepted a contract of sorts from me and I wish to collect. He knows me only as "Adder." The subject of this contract is an elven prisoner. I wish you to find him and take possession. Also, while you are there and interacting with him, use your wiles to get as much information as possible about who he is." *Stygian looked her up and down meaningfully* "He wears the insignia of a Dragon or a Demon devouring a withered head." She smiled and purred like a great cat and responded in a throaty voice. "The task will be a pleasure." Stygian turned and began to walk away, but stopped, and said without turning around. "And Vacha... Do not fail me. Failure will have dire consequences. We wouldn't want your heart ripped out of your chest for sacrifice to the Dark Lord... would we? She chuckled as she opened the door to leave. "Of course not my master... of course not."
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 01, 2010, 12:56:00 am
Vacha opened the front door to the Haft Lake location and walked into the entryway, a slight frown on her voluptuous lips and a long bundle resting on her right shoulder, wrapped in a dark blue wool blanket. The boots hanging out the lower end were a good indication of what was hidden from view. She thought to herself that normally her best course of action would be to flatter and tempt a mortal and buy herself some time, but Stygian was not a normal mortal. His intellect was sharp, bordering on genious. She would have to play it by ear and see where it would go. Stygian was not one to brook failure lightly. She would figure out what to do later... all she needed was some time.

Stygian heard the door open and the tell-tale sound of cloven hooves. He knew Vacha had finally arrived. When he walked around the corner he caught sight of her curvy form and smiled to himself. She dropped her package unceremoniously onto the wood floor and smiled broadly as she nodded her head and said "My master." Stygian nearly purred as he kneeled to examine the corpse, "Very nice. Naster is proving to be very competent. And how did you fare in your assignment?" She paused, Stygian could sense her fear. He savored it and nearly smiled. She said softly, "Naster's men delivered the package. They said he was away on business. I did not have an opportunity to ply my talents" Stygian stood and looked at her for a long moment. For Vacha the seconds seemed like very long minutes. "Then you did not fail." He waved his hand dismissively. "Go." She pulled her hood over her head and quickly left the building, letting out a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 01, 2010, 01:36:06 am
Stygian grabbed a heel of the elven corpse laying in the entryway of his house and commenced to drag it to the kitchen. He hummed softly to himself as he picked it up and laid it on the long wooden table. Rigor had already come and gone, and there was some slight bloat beginning in the body cavity. Still humming he retrieved a rolled leather satchel from a nearby shelf and unrolled it on the table holding the corpse. It contained a large number of wicked looking knives and cutting instruments. He pulled out one with a short thick blade and commenced to removing the front part of the skull from the body. After a few minutes the face was removed.

In mid hum he stopped and began to chuckle. It was humorous how events transpired to bring him to this point. It would have been fairly simple for him to murder an elf and obtain the front portion of the skull to make a ceremonial mask for his Corathite rites... but this made it even richer, more perverse. He had brought others into the act, weaving a web that connected many different beings into the murder and intrigue. Their acts were unknowingly for the glory of the Dark One. Soon he would have more materials provided in the same way. The masks would be needed for the Maligare he was planning to form, and over which he would preside as Stipacio.

Without looking up from the half skull he was now shaving flesh, skin, and brain matter off of he said "Gimp, take care of the mess." A small red devil with a long forked tail materialized on the table and began chewing chunks of flesh off of the corpse. It would be consumed within the hour.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 17, 2010, 06:59:48 pm
I have woven a tangled web, intricate and beautiful. Many others have been drawn into it. I have contracted for the creation of a masterpiece. The skull of a Toranite priest will be taken to create a lacquered mask for use in my greater rituals to the Dark Lord. I have put Naster's group to use for this, particularly Solena his spiritual adviser. She has been bound to the task with an advance of enchanted jewlery. I noted she was cautions and she checked the pieces for any black magics at the exchange. I sense they are a dangerous lot. At a previous meeting I caught a glimpse of hand signs from her to Naster. Although I did not know the meaning, my knowledge was great enough to suspect a sign language frequently used by Dark Elves. Deciphering anything from it is beyond my ability. All research has come to dead ends as it appears to be a well guarded secret knowledge. In hind sight it is an interesting observation that Naster, Solena, and Ma Baker are all well covered and hooded. They also do not meet in hours of sunlight. Perhaps my curiosity into the insignia on Naster's armor should be directed into the Deep...
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on May 23, 2010, 12:57:09 am
Opportunities must be seized.

I dropped a few coins onto the countertop of a small roadside inn near Northpoint and asked for a room, pulling my hood low to my brow. I had heard of a recent massacre from agents of The Ram. I knew I had to work quickly and make my way out of the area with all due haste, for rumors of the imminent arrival of Toranite paladins was passing from peasant to peasant wherever I was in a position to overhear conversations. The place was ripe for the work of the Dark Lord. That was why I was there...

The old wooden stairs creaked as I made my way to the rented room upstairs. I closed the door behind me and waved my free hand over a candle on a small table, muttering a few soft words. The candle ignited and gave off a feeble light. I sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the burlap cloth from around the box I was carrying in my free hand to reveal a small cage with three fat rats in it. I looked at them and smiled, my fingers weaving an intricate pattern over them while dark and forbidden magic issued from my lips. Disease entered their bodies. I then whispered a few more arcane words and they dropped to the floor of the cage, dead. The final syllables I uttered raised the animals into a state of undeath. The cage door was opened and I told them: "Go... perform the work of Corath." The diseased undead scurried out of the cage, and disappeared into a hole in the wall. The candlelight failed to glint off of eyes already turning milky white.

I cast an invisibility spell on myself and quietly left the inn, not to be seen again...
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on May 23, 2010, 01:17:31 am
I stumbled as I was spat from the bindstone in Arnax and struggled to keep my feet. I nearly wretched with the effort, wiped a line of spittle from my chin, and began laughing softly. I muttered "fools." I grabbed a nearby acolyte and instructed him to have someone send a wraith to find Dr. Vensk and give him the following message.

"The deed is done at great cost and effort. Watch for your opportunity. It will come soon."

The chaos was beautiful, but it had purpose. My only regret was I could not have continued to other villages and hamlets to bring the touch of my Dark Lord. Gimli also fell, and even now does not know he played a part in furthering the will of Corath. It is ironic that the necromancer I enlisted him to help us hunt was no other than myself. *chuckles* I was pleasantly surprised to see that the death and pain stemming from this operation continues even now. Gimli was enraged that the Rofies and their lackeys allowed him to be murdered. It was so easy to goad him and enflame his sense of honor. Whispering advice into his ear has prompted him to hire assassins to track down and kill those that interfered in our plans. I am acting as his "go-between" and have contacted Naster to facilitate Gimli's wishes. Gimli is walking a fine road, and it seems it takes very little nudging to steer him down "the left-hand path." I will have to continue with this. He would prove to be a valuable ally, and servant...

//Wanted in the Boyer Kingdom for murders in village of Dasbar.
http://forums.layonara.com/rumour-has/273762-plans-within-plans.html
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on June 26, 2010, 12:31:26 pm
Adder had been watching the boy for most of the morning from a shadowed alcove near the Vehl docks. The young man was practicing arcane cantrips, and it was quite evident he was someone's apprentice. Adder was a little perplexed why he was so preoccupied with the boy, but he knew the Dark Lord often presented opportunities to the vigilant... so he watched, and he waited.

Soon a cruel little smile tugged at Adder's lips. Two larger boys showed up and began bullying the young man. A few blows were landed and some insults shouted before the two hooligans left and disappeared into a nearby alley, leaving the young man on his knees with a bloodied lip. Adder quickly walked to the young man and offered him a hand. "Here, let me help you up. It seems those not gifted with the will to harness the Al'Noth often resort to this foolishness to prop up their own machismo, no?" The young man took his offered hand and grinned as he was pulled to his feet. Adder reached into a pouch and withdrew a thin bone cylinder, uncapped it, and pulled out a rolled scroll parchment. "Take this and use it on one of those louts, it will teach them a lesson." He chuckled lightly as the young man took the scroll from him. "It creates fear. They will think twice before accosting a soon-to-be master such as you."

The young man headed towards the alley and Adder blended into the late morning crowd as he headed towards the city gates. The phantasmal killer spell scribed onto the parchment he gave the boy was sure to kill, if he was able to trigger it. It was important that the touch of Corath be felt by the Indignus, that hatred and anger be fanned into flames of abhorrent deeds for the greater glory of the Bone Lord.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on June 28, 2010, 12:47:24 am
The thaumaturic triangles of the containment diagram were perfectly inscribed within the circle on the floor. Stygian had made some minor experimental changes to some of the symbology though. The lines comprising the geometric form flashed brightly and diminished to a very faint glow as Stygian's chanting came to a conclusion. He was pleased thus far.

In the center of the innermost triangle lay a Halfling sized thing composed of sewn together body parts. Stygian began chanting again as he began the casting of a modified animate dead spell. Black tendrils of mist began to coalesce in the containment diagram and work their way into the lump of sewn together flesh.

As he concluded, he watched and waited. After many long minutes the dead thing moved, barely a twitch. The movement became more pronounced after several more minutes. The creature raised its head and looked at Stygian with eyes that had become red pinpricks of light. Stygian issued a command to the creature to stand. After a few moments there was no response. It was obviously not under control.

Stygian outstretched his hands and enveloped the circle with several jets of dense and super-hot flame. When he was done the creature was nothing more than a pile of ash. This would require a considerable amount of contemplation to determine what had happened. It could lead to significant discoveries in the future.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on September 25, 2010, 01:16:14 pm
Stygian was looking for a foothold in Fort Vehl to use as a launching point for operations in service to the Dark Lord. It seemed a logical step to ply a trade that would give him access to raw materials and victims who would never be missed or mourned. He headed to one of the local mortuaries, 'Goude & Partner, Morticians and Burial Services, intent on submitting an application for employment.
Upon entering the front office and asking for an application a bored and sullen attendant placed a parchment in front of him, with a number of questions on it. "I assume you can read?" He looked at Stygian blankly. "Fill this out and bring it back when you're done."
Stygian took the offered form, laid it on the counter, and pulled out a writing instrument and began filling out the form.

1/ What is your full name and what city, nation were you born in?
Stygian Achnuman. Born in the city of Arnax, Kingdom of Nesar.

2/ How deep must a body be buried to prevent the earth sinking in during the putrefaction and bone stripping phase of decomposition?
This question can have several answers. If the body is contained inside a stone casket or coffin the burial depth is sufficient at 36 inches, as the rigid surface of the container will keep any earth sinking event from occurring.

Most jurisdictions require a depth of 6 feet for burial of linen clad bodies and wooden caskets, which is sufficient to both prevent earth sinking during the putrefaction and bone stripping phase of decomposition... and to provide sufficient weight on top of the body or container to prevent movement in the case of undeath taking hold.

Also, earth composition should be considered. Loose loamy soils and aggregate materials are more susceptible to settling, thus may require greater depth then heavy clays.

3/ Have you worked with dead bodies before? If so where and why?
Yes. I worked for five years as an apprentice mortician to a Nester Bondalavalin in Arnax. I also worked as an assistant to a Reedlin Stirelin in Arnax for another 6 years.

4/ Do you have any references? If so, please provide at least two.
Nester Bondalavalin -- Deceased. Plague was cause of death.

Needlin Stirelin -- Deceased. Taken by the Temple of Corath.

I am also proficient in standard burial, embalming, mummification, and cremation. In short, I can probably answer any question you have or demonstrate any procedure required. And yes, I can read very well.

5/ Do you have a particular faith you ascribe to?
None.

6/ Do you have a fetish about the dead?
No fetish. Necrophilia is disgusting, if that is what you're getting at...

When complete, he pushed it across the counter and stared at the clerk with the same blank look he had received from him earlier and waited....

The attendant looked at Stygian several times after reading the form, then excused himself and hurriedly headed into the back of the office through a single door. Moments later he returned with a tall, lanky man in a dark embroidered suit. He approached the desk with Stygian's application in hand and looked at him for several minutes. When he spoke, it is with a slow drawl and soft demeanor.

"You have some experience then, you are fortunate. My last mortician tried to rob a corpse he was supposed to bury two weeks ago. The father of the woman who died caught him and killed him with his own spade. I too knew Needlin in Arnax, he was very skilled." Without letting you speak further he continued.

"I will give you a three month trial. You start tomorrow. I am Vilhelm Goude, your new master."

Stygian worked diligently in his new position, ever conscious that he was under the scrutiny of a master of the craft. Many months passed, and those months turned to years. From time to time the occasional street urchin, addict, or beggar would disappear, never to be heard from or seen again. Although he had to often leave on "personal business" for short periods, he always returned to provide services for his employer and delve deeper into the knowledge and practices of the mortician. He was hoping that soon he would be in a position to be declared a Journeyman mortician and licensed to practice in some of the smaller outlying towns and villages....
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on October 29, 2010, 11:30:24 am
Recent activities in Arnax and Nith

News reaches Adder via a messenger wraith from an ally in the Arnax temple. He immediately journeys to the city through a portal and heads into the dock districts to investigate, using various scrying techniques. He sends his imp into the alleys to search out evidence and questions any who may have seen something of importance.

******

When you arrive in Arnax, debris from the wrecked ship and docks is still being removed.
You are not surprised to find various other mages and Clerics of various faiths, also attempting to discern the nature of the attacks and their origins.

All you are able to sense is a lingering taint of Conjuration magic... as though a portal had been opened here... or something of immense power was summoned, strong enough so that its taint still lingered after such a long time had passed since it had left.

Your imp finds little news, mainly due to the fact most are unwilling to talk to the little critter, but what it does learn is this...

.. A ship had recently docked, infact, it was the very ship which burnt and sank on the dock. Not moments of it docking, the mist rolled in across the docks area... and splitting screams of pain and terror filled the air.

The creatures, which seemed to crawl on all fours, attacked any in their path, but it was noted they were restricted to the mist... they did not venture out of it.

Eventually the mist cleared, leaving bodies dead on the docks and in the water.. and a burning ship in its wake.

******

Adder makes his way to the Harbor Master's office in Arnax and inquires into the name of the destroyed ship in the harbor, where it hails from, and what it's manifest lists as cargo. He is interested in who holds ownership interests and where they are from. He is willing to offer a substantial bribe, or resort to threats and intimidation, whichever is most appropriate. He will also conveniently make a Corathite holy symbol visible briefly if the harbormaster balks... with the threats behind that action left unspoken, but abundantly clear.*

Adder makes further discreet inquiries in the Arnax dock areas as to anyone who may have seen a group of people removing a body from the wreckage, if any of the individuals doing the removing were known or recognized, and if their destination after leaving the docks was known. He also inquires into anyone being asked questions by officials claiming to be representatives of the Arnax Council.

After all of this he tasks his imp familiar with diving and exploring the underwater wreckage in the Red Rabbit's docking slip. He then secures passage for Lor intent on further investigation.

******
The ships name was the Red Rabbit, a small passenger and cargo ship from Arnax, that frequently makes deliveries from Lor to Arnax and Nith and then back again.
The owner of the ship was a Captain March, who it seems died during the attack, and aside from the Captain, no one else has stepped forward to make a claim.

The Dock Master does mention however, that one of the passengers was missing. He claims that during the confusion, a group of people claiming to be from the Arnax council removed a body from the wreckage.
Where they went to and why is uncertain, as to who's the body was, as several of the victims were so badly burnt and mutilated, it makes it impossible to deem who was who.

It's at this point, where you come across a ships captain who states he took the individual's who removed the body on board his ship. Although he didn't know at the time, after returning to dock and learning the story, and considering his own encounter he had with them, he puts two and two together.

He claims the group sought passage to Nith, but half way through the voyage, some kind of powerful creature made of metal appeared on their ship, told the group to move closer, and then pooof! Like that... they were gone.

One of the sailors briefly recalls them discussing a Contract and a Grey Beard, but they kept to themselves away from the crew.

******

When Adder arrives in Nith he steps off the ship and glances into the skies briefly, well aware of rumors circulating concerning dragons and other troubles around the borders to the North. He mulls over a couple of ideas unrelated to his current endeavor and smiles. There could be many opportunities to further the will of the Dark Lord here...

He soon finds a small seedy tavern and inn near the docks, rents a room, and plans out his next course of action.

******

Later in the afternoon he instructs his imp to roam the dock areas and local inns under magical invisibility and seek out rumors or word concerning a "greybeard." He is to listen only and not show himself. An immediate report is ordered to be delivered if he finds any promising leads. At the same time Adder makes his way to the Harbormaster's office to inquire into obtaining a copy of the passenger manifest for the Red Rabbit. He is prepared to offer a generous bribe if required. He is also interested in any information concerning groups booking passage to Arnax in the last month or so, and their stated identities if any are recorded. He also wanders around town discreetly scrying and looking for indications of residual conjuration magics. He will also stop by any shops carrying spell components and inquire into any large purchases of items related to conjuration.

******

Adder had a fairly short conversation with a dark figure in the dock areas of Nith and was handed a folded parchment. He shook his head in the affirmative once and the dark figure turned and walked into a nearby alleyway and disappeared into the shadows. He smiled and chuckled lightly, whispering to himself, "The Dark Lord works in mysterious ways at times, but he always leads his faithful to the most opportune places to plant their seeds of death and destruction. I suspect this is a grand scheme Oraculum..."

Adder continued his investigation for the purpose of finding out who knows what. He planned on "tying up some loose ends."

Adder had been waiting in Nith for several days. The ship Captain he had obtained initial information from in Arnax was due to pull into port any time. He did not have to wait long. Late afternoon the ship had docked and he found Captain Hroth on the pier directing his crew in the unloading of cargo.

Adder approached him smiling and greeted him as if he were a business associate in good standing. The Captain did not buy the facade remembering immediately the dark cloaked person from Arnax, a city where the weak and gullible often ended up on the altar, or missing. The Captain was unsuccessful in hiding the grimace that appeared on his face.

"Captain Hroth! Good to see you again! I'm Adder, the gentleman you spoke to in Arnax concerning the strange occurrences on your ship..."

"Er, right. I remember. What ye doing here?"

Adder smiled again. "Can I have a few moments?"

"A few and no more. I've got work to do, if you can see."

Adder replied without hesitation, "I'm employed by an insurance company with a contract on the destroyed ship... The Red Rabbit. My investigations have brought me here to Nith and raised some more questions. I was hoping to get some clarifications on what you saw and record some additional information." He smiled again. "I can pay for the time...." Adder jingled a pouch heavy with coin.

"Insura-wha- oh, alright, ifn' there's coin in it, why not."

"Perhaps your first mate can handle the unloading and we can go somewhere more private. Your time might be worth what? A thousand true??" Adder smiled again broadly.

The Captain balked at Adder's's offer, glancing around a little warily. Sensing some apprehension Adder said: "There is no harm intended, I assure you." He jingled the purse again seductively.

"A thousand?" *his voice was hushed* "Aye, that could be worth it. Just not so loud, alright?"

Adder held out the purse. "I can even pay you in advance." *He smiled again* "And if your information is good, there may be more..." He then motioned the Captain to follow, handed him the purse, and headed away from the docks. The Captain followed warily, looking over his shoulder long enough to yell at his men, "Alright! Get this ship unloaded and quick! I'll be back in a short few, and when I return, this boat better be ready for the next haul!" He looked back to Adder. "Where we going?"

"I have a quiet place prepared over here... I will be doing some art renderings of the strange passengers based on your memorized descriptions..."

"Um, yeah, okay."

Adder led him to a secluded place behind some houses. He pulled out some parchments and ink. Set up a quill stand on a rock and said, "Ok. How good is your memory?"

"Good enough." He squinted at Adder, obviously uncomfortable.

"Can you remember the details of what personal affects the passengers had on them, smells, eye colors, skin tones, clothing types, styles, etc?" He readied his quill and paper, watching the Captain intensely. "If not, I can prepare a small enchantment to aid your memory."

"Eh? You said nothing about no magics. Look, I just tell you what I know, you give me the money, and we call it a day, yeah?" He took a step back and said, "No magic, and I'll settle for the thousand."

Adder knew he was getting ready to lose his prey. He quickly began chanting an incantation, dropped his quill and parchment, and reached for the Captain. The man jumped back and attempted to flee, but not before Adder's fingers brushed against the frightened man's arm. The Captain crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap and a muffled cry as his life force was ripped from his body by foul necromantic magic.

Adder looked about, listening intently. The dying man's cry did not draw the attention of anyone. That was good. It would have complicated things greatly. Adder bent down, retrieved his coin purse, and grabbed the Captain's head, tilted it up, and looked into his dead eyes. He smiled and said, "Loose lips sink ships my dear Captain." He left the body where it fell, unconcerned over who would find it, and packed his equipment.

Satisfied that a loose end was tied up he headed to the Dock Master to make further inquiries. A hefty bribe gained him visual access to the passenger manifest for the Red Rabbit. Seeing that nothing out of the ordinary was contained therein he assumed the passengers were traveling under false names. A short while later he was in a secluded area that allowed him to cast an invisibility spell and teleport out of the area.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on November 13, 2010, 09:49:17 pm
PM sent to Geloooo's Ni'haer Helvivirr
-----------------

*While tightening the barding and saddle on your horse outside The Harpy, a voluptuous female figure walks from the shadows, her alluring hips swinging seductively. You raise an eyebrow in amusement until you see a reptilian barbed tail swish under the edge of her cloak, and small ebony horns high on her forehead nearly covered with long black hair. Your disgust for pit creatures and those relying on them immediately becomes apparent. She speaks in a silky and soft voice...*

"My master Adder sends me to deliver a message. He asks that you remind your "Spiritual Advisor" that she is still indebted to him for providing a set of enchanted jewelry. He asks only that she remember the bargain, and he demands no timetable. He is in no hurry, but he does not forget. He sincerely hopes she is capable of performing the task, and that he did not overestimate her abilities."

She turns to walk away, and then looks over her shoulder. She smiles while displaying her mind-blowing curves. "And he again offers me as company if you so choose. I'm sure I would offer better entertainment than your own kind." After a couple of seconds she continues walking away and disappears into the shadows.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 03, 2011, 03:03:07 am
Stygian dipped his quill into the ink well and again began scribing in the small black journal. Candle light threw odd shaped shadows on the walls. He smiled lightly. Plans were on track, and his personal power was increasing by leaps and bounds. Stipatio of a Magilare of the stature of Mesgard was quite an accomplishment, even if it was secured through guile and deception. Victory in the bloodstand was ensured. The old woman offering aid turned out to be a creature of the pits, and obviously had a vested interest in both the Magilare and the church. The price was souls, imprinted on soulstones. She may prove to be a valuable ally, or deadly advessary. Only time would tell. If she planned on using him as a puppet, she had her work cut out for her. He would have to do some research to see if he could find out more about her.

This could all lead to more, much more. His fascination with the legends surrounding the Black Wizards had never diminished, and burned just as hot and bright as it did those many years ago when he was under the thumb of Acron.

He placed the quill back into the ink well, leaned back in his chair and contemplated further what could be.... what would be.
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 03, 2011, 08:16:19 pm
A new employee, always a pleasant occurrence. The opportunities to corrupt a good soul should never go unexplored. The lad's name is Castor Goodshot, and he has been retained as a deliveryman in exchange for room and board. If he only knew where his predecessor was, he probably would not have taken the job. The poor soul was caught in my downstairs area and has found himself pickling in a 50 gallon barrel of vinegar. He might be rather tasty in a few months....
Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on April 23, 2011, 01:15:51 pm
// A general summary of his CDQ, posted in the journal for ease of reference.

Our story begins on Mistone, in Fort Vehl. Stygian, hungry for power and to climb the ranks of a Maligare but uncertain how to attempt it, is approached by an old woman, Dianne, looking to make a deal. She seems to have been watching him and knows both his identities, but offers information on the Gloom Woods Maligare as a show of good faith.

Unfortunately, the Gloom Woods/Mesgard Maligare is currently headed by a very strong practitioner known as The Leper. The next two strongest mages in the Maligare, Hemlock and Vileslash, respectively, would love to take his position from him, but cannot beat him in the Blood Stand, the Cruor Sto. And of course the Cruor Sto allows no magical cheating, and as yet no one has been able to figure out how to beat him.

Stygian tentatively accepts the old woman's help, knowing that it will come with a price later. She gives him a stone known as a Blood Ruby, which apparently is from one of the Pits and very rare on Layonara. Stygian tracks down the place where The Leper hides his secret ring, then manages to disguise the Blood Ruby with magic and swap it out for the more mundane ruby in The Leper's ring. He waits for the Leper to weaken, knowing that Hemlock will challenge him. He also manages to switch out the ruby again before anyone notices, and returns it to Dianne.

When Hemlock is head of the Maligare and The Leper has disappeared, Stygian meets with Dianne again. This time, she demands a dozen soul stones containing various essences as her price. He accepts, and she gives him knowledge of a parasitic creature that lives in a certain part of the swamp, known as a blood worm and how to harvest the juveniles from the mother. She also tells him where Hemlock spends some of his ... recreational time.

Stygian tracks down the bloodworm and harvests the young ones by slitting open one of the mothers he kills. He collects them, then heads for Hemlock's remote cottage in the Gloom Woods, where Hemlock does many of his own private experiments. He finds that Hemlock also has unusual appetites, judging from the dead bodies with flesh removed and gnaw marks on the bones, and the "stew" that is simmering at body temperature for dinner. Before Hemlock comes back, Stygian dumps the vial of larva in the stewpot.

Another Cruor Sto is called some weeks later, and Vileslash makes a grab for Stipatio. He succeeds in beating Hemlock, as the bloodworm parasites have weakened Hemlock considerably. A few bloodworms are seen squirming on the altar and there is a discussion about whether cheating has occurred, but it is eventually concluded that if Hemlock wants to go about indulging his unusual appetites, perhaps blood parasites are just one of the risks, and the victory should be allowed. Hemlock is treated by Professor Celiac, but he warns that the damage to his internal systems was probably somewhat permanent.

Stygian makes a final deal with the devil, and learns her true form. He meets Dianne in the woods instead of in the city, as they had been doing. She reveals herself to be a Pit creature, and makes him swear a blood oath that in gratitude and exchange for her aid, he will provide her with a steady stream of victims as "food" to satisfy her hungers. He agrees, and she gains access to Vileslash and feeds on him the night before Stygian is due to challenge him. As such, when Stygian challenges him, Vileslash is greatly weakened and Stygian manages to squeak out a victory. Duincharith (Dianne's real name) promises to help keep him Stipatio by feeding on any challengers, in return for additional favors she might request of him at any time.

As a side note, this particular Maligare is part of the sect known as Quas Discessum, dedicated to breaking the Astral Locks. They dedicate themselves to twisting forms, corrupting things, and trying to break the locks. Stygian feels right at home.
Title: Stygian sat in the flickering
Post by: Ravemore on October 20, 2013, 02:07:26 pm

Stygian sat in the flickering firelight of his Dalanthar abode scribbling in his black leather-bound journal. The human skin comprising the binding was beginning to crack from excessive use and exposure to the elements. Soon it would be time to replace it.

The work of the Mesgard Maligare is never-ending, but satisfying on many levels. Important projects have kept him away from his home and shop for many years, but now things were on track and he could devote more time to personal pet ventures.  Duincharith has been true to her word, but her hunger for souls is vast.

Stygian pursed his lips in annoyance. He was somewhat disturbed though by recent events. Nearing home he was whisked away by a powerful magic and deposited in another dimension by some unknown being, had to cope with a group of “do-gooders”, and barely made it out alive. He reached for his glass of wine and inadvertently knocked it over, spilling the expensive vintage on a priceless set of cushions. Irritated he stood up abruptly and tripped on the carpet, nearly falling into the fireplace, and singeing his favorite silk shirt. He pulled himself to his knees and cradled his head, having a terrible feeling that there was “something” still inside him.

Title: Stygian scrawls one simple
Post by: Ravemore on November 02, 2013, 12:59:38 pm

Stygian scrawls one simple sentence into his journal... "It is again time to muddy the waters."

Title: Adder makes his way through
Post by: Ravemore on November 30, 2013, 05:55:19 pm

Adder makes his way through the dark entry of the Mistone Temple in the Ire Mountains, listening with relish to the screams he can hear reverberating in further stone chambers within the huge complex. Several Noceo watch him guardedly as he passes by them, hands on sheathed blades. Acolytes adeptly move to the walls to stay out of his way, as he is a frequent visitor of this unholy place and is known for his lack of empathy and predisposition for inflicting pain. He makes his way directly to the altar chamber, prostrating himself before the blood-stained slab of stone and whispers dark and terrible prayers to the Mortis Mentis. Afterward, he re-directs his attention to the secondary reason for his stopover.

Cora Blake is facing him, standing behind her wooden desk as he enters her chamber, after giving him leave to enter. He reaches into his ruck sack and removes a short sword in a black leather scabbard, draws the blade, and lays it on her desk. The pommel is stamped with his personal mark, and the blade length is acid etched with vile psalms praising the Dark Lord. “Sancti Blake… I seek your instruction.”

//PM Sent to Pinkpowerbait

Title: Stygian handed the small
Post by: Ravemore on December 15, 2013, 12:46:18 pm

Stygian handed the small folded and sealed parchment given to him by Cora Blake to the hooded and masked man in the doorway of the run down hovel located in the center of the Fort Vehl slums. The stink of trash and sewage hung over the street like a fog. After opening and reading the parchment the man stepped inside and closed the door leaving Stygian in the night time drizzle. After a few minutes he returned and motioned Stygian inside.

The building was a single small room. Kneeling on small rugs were four hooded and masked acolytes lit eerily by the light from a single large charcoal fed brazier. Even though windows were cracked open, the fumes were thick. An old, bent, and misshapen priest of Corath sat in a small wooden chair in front of the acolytes. In a gravelly and cracked voice he addressed Stygian... "All of my vacancies for this course of instruction appear to be filled stranger. Are you worthy?" Stygian simply replied, "I am."

In an instant one of the four acolytes sprang from his carpet and whipped out a short cruel-looking iron sword and swung it at Stygian. Barely making it out of the way, Stygian jabbed two fingers into his attacker's sternum chanting a foul incantation. Dark magic coursed into the man's body, convulsing his muscles as his soul was ripped free of his mortal shell. The lifeless body dropped to the ground like a bag of rocks. Stygian bent over and grabbed the dead man's ankle and dragged him to a corner of a room where he deposited him like every day refuse and then returned to the vacant carpet where he knelt like the other students.

The old priest continued his theological discourse as if nothing had happened, and Stygian drank and absorbed his words like a starving vampire drains a victim of blood.

 

Title: The two assassins near
Post by: Ravemore on February 10, 2014, 03:40:44 pm

The two assassins near Dalanthar were easily dispatched, and my intent was to find their employer and make him suffer immensely before I took his life in the name of Mortis Mentis. The trail lead to an underground cavern system where I either fought my way or slipped past numerous powerful and unique undead creations. Creatures of beauty, given birth with the blessings of my Dark Lord. When I reached the bottom I beheld the master holding the strings of the puppets in the other various chambers. I could sense the Al’Noth surrounding him, waves of power, invisible to the naked eye… but there nevertheless. I tossed the scroll that I found on one of my would-be assassins on the floor before him and told him I sought his instruction.

It never ceases to amaze me… It seems the Dark Lord guides me and prepares me as a vessel for some great purpose, for the robed and hooded humanoid told me that I was being tested, either for greatness or destruction. His robes writhed as if some creature rolled beneath the fabrics and the skull bone mask he wore hid his countenance. It was then that he presented the test. I had to cut out one of my own rib bones and lay it at his feet. Without question I removed my skinning knife and began the cutting. The pain was incomprehensible… the task daunting. Several times I came close to death, but in the end I snapped my own rib bone in half and laid it at his feet. It was then that he revealed who he was… The Oraculum Mortis. Before me stood the most powerful Darkweaver in the Corathite Church… and my life was forfeit if he so chose to take it. He then told me I was now Veneficus and answered to him… that I had passed his test. He bade me to travel to the temple in Arnax and present my rib bone as sacrifice to the Dark Lord.

I travelled to Arnax in the company of One Eye, a fortuitous encounter. The presence of the Raven was somewhat of a relief in my weakened state. I took no healing, reveling in the pain of my wounds… in the badge they represented to me. He watched without words as I knelt before the altar to offer my sacrifice. The on duty High Priestess happened to stroll by and saw my prayers. She laughed at the paltry offering of one rib bone, commanding me to go forth and come back only when I had enough to fill a coffin. One Eye said nothing as he followed me out of the temple and watched as I deposited the rib into one of the temple’s braziers. Fire leapt forth as if a barrel of oil had been poured into it and it licked the stones of the ceiling for several moments before dying back down. I said “It appears my sacrifice has been accepted.” His response was a knowing nod and something muttered under his breath. He seemed to know something that was escaping me… or that he dared not explain further.

I then headed off to find a wagon and a team of oxen. I had no intent in bringing back only a coffin full of rib bones to the temple. Blood would soon flow from the hands of one of the church’s most powerful Ravens... and a newly branded Oraculis of the Veneficus in service directly to the Oraculum Mortis. My position as Stipatio of the Mesgard Magilare is now much stronger.

Title: Re: Journal of Stygian Achnuman
Post by: Ravemore on November 05, 2022, 08:32:02 pm
*Stygian is riding his black horse along the old worn road, deep in the Gloomwood. Mesgard is nearby. Perhaps another hour of travel*

For the third time in the last hour I have caught a glimpse of an undead creature in the brush watching me. Assessing me. I ignore them because I have no fear. I am sure they can sense who I am. It is possible I may have even created some of them. *dry chuckle and wry grin* They can recognize the taint of the Mortis Mentis marking me as an Oraculis of the Veneficus. The Oraculum Mortis took my measure and did not find me lacking, and now I am bound to him and growing in power. The font of his knowledge and resources has no end or depth. It is truly endless in all sense of the word… and I drink from it like a man stranded in the desert with no water walking into an oasis. *Stygian unconsciously rubs his side where he cut his own rib from his body. The lingering pain that will likely never leave is a constant reminder of his allegiance*

*Stygian has been in Arnax for several months training with the Priests and Priestesses. Learning the formal dogmas and rites of the clergy. They are suspicious of him because he is Veneficus, but they recognize that he has been blessed by the Dark Lord and chosen to walk this path. They will never accept him, but they will tolerate him for the time being. He reports regularly to the Oraculum Mortis on the inner working of the temple and the rumors and whispers uttered in the shadowy depths of its halls.

As Stygian approaches the first outbuildings of Mesgard he can see the cloaked figure of the Mayor waiting. He bows to Stygian in deep respect, “Stipatio, welcome back. As always, your presence is delightful.” *There is no joy or excitement in his voice* *Stygian nods, nudges his heels into the side of his horse, and continues in the direction of the Maligare’s headquarters.