The World of Layonara
Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: Polak76 on May 08, 2007, 11:23:14 PM
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// New Journal for Alandric Vensk.
His existing journal is here: http://www.layonara.com/development-journals-discussion/109609-echo.html#post479293
His original character submission is here: http://www.layonara.com/character-approvals/109409-alandric-vensk.html//
My perspective on life is changing.
I was once a troubled teenager, angry with life for being so unkind and unyielding. I would cry with self pity some nights and lash out with hatred on others. I was temperamental, emotional and irrational but most of all I was weak!
Not any more!
Through the years under the guidance of the church I feel that all my feelings and emotions have dissipated. My father paved a road for me to follow, a legacy to carry his tribulations. I am, however, my own man and I will carve my own destiny.
All I aspire to these days is my work, my studies and my obedience to the dark one himself. I have proved myself as Mage of many talents. All in the halls now bow at my passing. Whether it’s from fear from my power or fear of my scientific ambitions they all cower with obedience.
The races in this world are such pathetic creatures. I even include my own race...humans. We are all so weak, so compassionate, loving and tender. How did we ever become entrepreneurs of this volatile world?
Many times I journey with adventures performing so called deeds of greatness. I journey to watch and observe these creatures interact. It takes a disciplined mind not to lose patience. For such short life spans we tend to waste time with mundane deeds and idle chit chat. Many go to lengths to aid worthless individuals who will never contribute anything of value in their lifetime, even to a point of risking their own life and the lives of many to do so. When did we grow so irrational? When did the evolution of man weaken? I am glad to be above all that. The mere thought of being a sheep of this doomed flock makes me nauseous.
Through my studies I have learnt much about the anatomy, strengths and weaknesses of many races. Through knowledge I’ve tapped in their psychology and mannerisms. Through many tomes of history I’ve also learnt of their beliefs morals and etiquette. But my interest lies in the corruption of these natural facets. I want to test the boundaries, test the mind and bend it till it beaks, push the body to its physical limits until it finally succumbs. How can one learn if one does not push the boundaries of nature? We must charter the unchartered waters of science and explore the mysteries of magic especially the forbidden realms of black magic. Black magic indeed! Only the weak and frightened create such names for areas of the unknown.
I will test all these aspects through a combination of Science and Magic
Science and Magic are two things that are argued separately but are yet one and the same thing. I truly believe magic to be the manifestation of science to perform actions through a disciplined mindset. Only astute individuals can bend their minds to perform feats of magic. I do not include Priests as their gods grant them their powers. They are merely a conduit to their divine rulers. Sorcerers are interesting individuals. They are born with the ability and learn to harness the wild and raw magic over time. I doubt they ever truly understand the intricate aspects of magic itself. Mages, however, are the true rulers of the weave. I aspire to become one of the greatest and unlike the others I will utilise the school of necromancy where so many forbid to venture. That alone will be my key to greatness.
With regards to magic and science however, I’m intrigued with what actually happens when I cast necromantic spells? Am I indeed tapping into the negative material plane? Furthermore what actually happens when the spells target living creatures? Does the life essence ebb into the plane itself? Energy is neither created nor destroyed. Our bodies thrive on electric impulses which power the heart and brain, communicate with our nerves which course through our bodies. How does necromancy affect this on a cellular level?
Can Necromancy twist and mutate cells rather than destroy or heal?
These are questions that plague my mind endlessly. I need a laboratory. I need a place to study these fundamental aspects. I require the tools to test my theories and implement them in the real world.
Imagine if I could create a race or creature that wasn’t undead like most of the servants of the Mad One, but additionally wasn’t alive. These creatures were somewhere in between but not quite Vampires. They could survive through sunlight yet require no food or water, feel no pain and mindlessly perform tasks that I command. Could it be possible?
What if I could create a disease that could destroy towns and villages and only I hold the key to surviving it. That would be a weapon worthy for the High Priestess and one that would be worthy of many accolades.
Imagine a poison that only a mere drop could cause excruciating pains far worse than any scourge or rack could warrant. It would be far more efficient than the current tools used in the torture chambers.
What constructs could be manufactured from the freshly deceased? I have heard rumours of golems made from the flesh of once living creatures, some from even demons being manufactured. How is this possible?
There are so many exciting endeavours with such limited resources. My first objective requires a laboratory. I will seek audience with High Priestess Chanda and beg for her permission to incorporate one here in the temple, preferably beside the torture chambers.
She has already granted permissions to utilise the remains from fallen victims. I have already dissected many humans, elves and dwarves. I’ve also collected many specimens from my adventures and have now begun collecting the blood of the fallen. My first vial taken by Chanda herself was the blood from Jack Honeydale, a halfling male. I will archive these specimens for possible future uses.
When the time comes I will seek permission to test my theories on the living prisoners within the temple. Chanda is so fond of the brutal old-fashion torture techniques it might be difficult to convince her to try something new. I’ll have to give her a reason to do so.
Funding will be the main issue. I will need to accumulate much wealth. Knowledge will need to be gained. Already I have gathered many tomes and scribed many books from the great Library and the temple of Aragen as per Siphers instructions. But what else lies out there. What knowledge lies buried beneath the sands from civilizations long forgotten. What secret alchemic theories lie hidden in some remote village or arcane conceptions locked away in hidden crypts?
These aspects must be addressed if I am to succeed where so many others failed. Hence I begin this journal to document my progress and measure my success.
Thus I title this journal 'Necrology – The Union of Science and Necromancy.
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One aspect of science that intrigues me greatly is evolution.
I was traversing across the desert sands to Audira and noticed some decayed corpses of Oasis Giants more than a day old rotting in the harsh sunlight. The air was rank with carrion and the corpses baked with newly laid maggots feasting on the entrails. What captured my attention most however, was that they were twitching slightly, too much to be caused by the maggots. I cautiously approached and noticed that deep within the bodies was another critter that also shared this gargantuan meal..
My curiosity was insatiable so I proceeded to dissect one of the corpses with my rapier. Inside I found a unique insect that seemed to get aggravated by my sudden intrusion spoiling its supper. The insect was no more than six inches with a segmented body, each overlapping segment contrasted from the other, red and black. It had a hard chitinous exoskeleton with large black mandibles. Using some gloves I quickly poked my hand in and plucked it from the corpse, capturing it within an empty glass flask. Whilst doing so it let out a high pitched squeal that almost dazed me. How intriguing.
Never had I seen such a bizarre creature like this. I do not know the scientific name for it, however, when I exhibited it to some of the citizens in Audira they were quickly repulsed and more than eager to destroy it. It is colloquially known by the locals as a Carrion Worm and inhabits the dark recesses of the desert sands, only breaching the surface to feast on freshly fallen animals.
Since then I keep it in my room within a tightly sealed glass cube. Ive noticed that it only feeds on fresh meat. It has an acute sense of smell, even to a point of following my movements in the room. I find this extremely interesting since the creature is devoid of any sight. I have come to the conclusion that it must scent the iron in our blood as long dead or cooked flesh has no appeal. Additionally it is sensitive to minute vibrations.
In the last month it has become an interesting pet. I am uncertain how large they grow but some of the locals claimed that this one is merely a baby. I have noticed that its mandibles are sharp and serrated and when it feasts it thrashes its head side to side carving the flesh to allow the inner cylindrical mouth to feed. The mouth is bordered with hundreds if tiny, curved and retracted teeth which force the flesh down into its gullet. It has a high metabolic rate as not long after consuming the food it produces trail of black viscous waste.
I have been feeding it with rats mainly and it consumes them with great ferocity. The opportunity came about in the temple to test another theory I have been contemplating
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One aspect of science that intrigues me greatly is evolution.
I was traversing across the desert sands to Audira and noticed some decayed corpses of Oasis Giants more than a day old rotting in the harsh sunlight. The air was rank with carrion and the corpses baked with newly laid maggots feasting on the entrails. What captured my attention most however, was that they were twitching slightly, too much to be caused by the maggots. I cautiously approached and noticed that deep within the bodies was another critter that also shared this gargantuan meal..
My curiosity was insatiable so I proceeded to dissect one of the corpses with my rapier. Inside I found a unique insect that seemed to get aggravated by my sudden intrusion spoiling its supper. The insect was no more than six inches with a segmented body, each overlapping segment contrasted from the other, red and black. It had a hard chitinous exoskeleton with large black mandibles. Using some gloves I quickly poked my hand in and plucked it from the corpse, capturing it within an empty glass flask. Whilst doing so it let out a high pitched squeal that almost dazed me. How intriguing.
Never had I seen such a bizarre creature like this. I do not know the scientific name for it, however, when I exhibited it to some of the citizens in Audira they were quickly repulsed and more than eager to destroy it. It is colloquially known by the locals as a Carrion Worm and inhabits the dark recesses of the desert sands, only breaching the surface to feast on freshly fallen animals.
Since then I keep it in my room within a tightly sealed glass cube. Ive noticed that it only feeds on fresh meat. It has an acute sense of smell, even to a point of following my movements in the room. I find this extremely interesting since the creature is devoid of any sight. I have come to the conclusion that it must scent the iron in our blood as long dead or cooked flesh has no appeal. Additionally it is sensitive to minute vibrations.
In the last month it has become an interesting pet. I am uncertain how large they grow but some of the locals claimed that this one is merely a baby. I have noticed that its mandibles are sharp and serrated and when it feasts it thrashes its head side to side carving the flesh to allow the inner cylindrical mouth to feed. The mouth is bordered with hundreds if tiny, curved and retracted teeth which force the flesh down into its gullet. It has a high metabolic rate as not long after consuming the food it produces trail of black viscous waste.
I have been feeding it with rats mainly and it consumes them with great ferocity. The opportunity came about in the temple to test another theory I have been contemplating. Torture.
Last night I was fortunate to notice a dwarf in his early adulthood who had been tortured over the last two days without breaking. His crimes were of no relevance, only that I found the perfect subject to witness how my pet would perform.
The dwarf was male, extremely fit and staunch. He was strapped on a large table, his hands and feet bound tightly, stretching his body close to breaking point. He had fresh lacerations from being scourged, was bruised from hours of bludgeoning and portrayed countless fresh burns from branding irons. The guards proclaimed he had withstood the whole ordeal without a single whimper. I asked if I could try something and they allowed me so long as I did not kill him.
I eagerly stepped close to the dwarf and he regarded me with menacing, resolute eyes. His lower jaw was locked hard, the muscles rippling as he glared defiantly. No doubt if he had any opportunity he could snap me in two within seconds
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One aspect of science that intrigues me greatly is evolution.
I was traversing across the desert sands to Audira and noticed some decayed corpses of Oasis Giants more than a day old rotting in the harsh sunlight. The air was rank with carrion and the corpses baked with newly laid maggots feasting on the entrails. What captured my attention most however, was that they were twitching slightly, too much to be caused by the maggots. I cautiously approached and noticed that deep within the bodies was another critter that also shared this gargantuan meal..
My curiosity was insatiable so I proceeded to dissect one of the corpses with my rapier. Inside I found a unique insect that seemed to get aggravated by my sudden intrusion spoiling its supper. The insect was no more than six inches with a segmented body, each overlapping segment contrasted from the other, red and black. It had a hard chitinous exoskeleton with large black mandibles. Using some gloves I quickly poked my hand in and plucked it from the corpse, capturing it within an empty glass flask. Whilst doing so it let out a high pitched squeal that almost dazed me. How intriguing.
Never had I seen such a bizarre creature like this. I do not know the scientific name for it, however, when I exhibited it to some of the citizens in Audira they were quickly repulsed and more than eager to destroy it. It is colloquially known by the locals as a Carrion Worm and inhabits the dark recesses of the desert sands, only breaching the surface to feast on freshly fallen animals.
Since then I keep it in my room within a tightly sealed glass cube. Ive noticed that it only feeds on fresh meat. It has an acute sense of smell, even to a point of following my movements in the room. I find this extremely interesting since the creature is devoid of any sight. I have come to the conclusion that it must scent the iron in our blood as long dead or cooked flesh has no appeal. Additionally it is sensitive to minute vibrations.
In the last month it has become an interesting pet. I am uncertain how large they grow but some of the locals claimed that this one is merely a baby. I have noticed that its mandibles are sharp and serrated and when it feasts it thrashes its head side to side carving the flesh to allow the inner cylindrical mouth to feed. The mouth is bordered with hundreds if tiny, curved and retracted teeth which force the flesh down into its gullet. It has a high metabolic rate as not long after consuming the food it produces trail of black viscous waste.
I have been feeding it with rats mainly and it consumes them with great ferocity. The opportunity came about in the temple to test another theory I have been contemplating. Torture.
Last night I was fortunate to notice a dwarf in his early adulthood who had been tortured over the last two days without breaking. His crimes were of no relevance, only that I found the perfect subject to witness how my pet would perform.
The dwarf was male, extremely fit and staunch. He was strapped on a large table, his hands and feet bound tightly, stretching his body close to breaking point. He had fresh lacerations from being scourged, was bruised from hours of bludgeoning and portrayed countless fresh burns from branding irons. The guards proclaimed he had withstood the whole ordeal without a single whimper. I asked if I could try something and they allowed me so long as I did not kill him.
I eagerly stepped close to the dwarf and he regarded me with menacing, resolute eyes. His lower jaw was locked hard, the muscles rippling as he glared defiantly. No doubt if he had any opportunity he could snap me in two within seconds. Not tonight.
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One aspect of science that intrigues me greatly is evolution.
I was traversing across the desert sands to Audira and noticed some decayed corpses of Oasis Giants more than a day old rotting in the harsh sunlight. The air was rank with carrion and the corpses baked with newly laid maggots feasting on the entrails. What captured my attention most however, was that they were twitching slightly, to much to be caused by the maggots. I cautiously approached and noticed that deep within the bodies was another critter that also shared this gargantuan meal..
My curiosity was insatiable so I proceeded to dissect one of the corpses with my rapier. Inside I found a unique insect that seemed to get aggravated by my sudden intrusion spoiling its supper. The insect was no more than six inches with a segmented body, each overlapping segment contrasted from the other, red and black. It had a hard chitinous exoskeleton with large black mandibles. Using some gloves I quickly poked my hand in and plucked on from the corpse, capturing it within an empty glass flask. Whilst doing so it let out a high pitched squeal that almost dazed me. How intriguing.
Never had I seen such a bizarre creature like this. I do not know the scientific name for it, however, when I exhibited it to some of the citizens in Audira they were quickly repulsed and more than eager to destroy it. It is colloquially known by the locals as a Carrion Worm and inhabits the dark recesses of the desert sands, only breaching the surface to feast on freshly fallen animals.
Since then I keep it in my room within a tightly sealed glass cube. Ive noticed that it only feeds on fresh meat. It has an acute sense of smell, even to a point of following my movements in the room. I find this extremely interesting since the creature is devoid of any sight. I have come to the conclusion that it must scent the iron in our blood as long dead or cooked flesh has no appeal. Additionally it is sensitive to minute vibrations.
In the last month it has become an interesting pet. I am uncertain how large they grow but some of the locals claimed that this one is merely a baby. I have noticed that its mandibles are sharp and serrated and when it feasts it thrashes its head side to side carving the flesh to allow the inner cylindrical mouth to feed. The mouth is bordered with hundreds if tiny, curved, retracted teeth which force the flesh down into its gullet. It has a high metabolic rate as not long after consuming the food it produces trail of black viscous waste.
I have been feeding it with rats mainly and it consumes them with great ferocity. The opportunity came about in the temple to test another theory I have been contemplating…torture.
Last night I was fortunate to notice a dwarf in his early adulthood who had been tortured over the last two days without breaking. His crimes were of no relevance, only that I found the perfect subject to witness how my pet would perform.
The dwarf was male, extremely fit and staunch. He was strapped on a large table, his hands and feet bound tightly, stretching his body close to breaking point. He had fresh lacerations from being scourged, was bruised from hours of bludgeoning and portrayed countless fresh burns from branding irons. The guards proclaimed he had withstood the whole ordeal without a single whimper. I asked if I could try something and they allowed me so long as I did not kill him.
I eagerly stepped close to the dwarf and he regarded me with menacing, resolute eyes. His lower jaw was locked hard, the muscles rippling as he glared defiantly. No doubt if he had any opportunity he could snap me in two within seconds…not tonight.
“So you are a strong one are you?” I teased. “The guards tell me you will not crack. Then surely my little friend here will do no more than tickle you.” I withdrew a large glass flask that contained my little pet and held it close to his face so that he observe it closely. For the briefest of moments the dwarf hesitated. So he should I thought. This was not going to be pleasant.
“You know what this is?” I continued. “This is known by the locals in Audira as a carrion worm. It lives deep within the desert sands, only to come up to feed on fresh flesh.” I paused long enough so that my words were understood. “Since Ive had it for a pet Ive fed it all manner of prey but not a live one. You will be first.”
Whilst the dwarf did not reply his muscles rippled as he flexed and the leather binds creaked under his strength, but they did not falter.
“Come now, this is science. You and I are exploring unchartered territories. Surely you should be proud?”
At that moment he spat in my face. I almost dropped the flask but managed to contain my anger long enough to taunt him one last time. My animosities for dwarves must run in the blood as my fathers shared the same trait. Only Gard is worthy of appeal.
“Know this.” I continued, “I am going to use a scalpel to make a small incision under your armpit. Then I will allow my pet to crawl within your body where it will start writhing with its sharp black mandibles, tearing your flesh and consuming your organs. I cannot say how painful it will be as I have never experienced such a thing nor do I intend to. You will be my test.”
Without going into detail it is safe to say my little pet worked a treat. Even the guards seemed horrified at my little experiment.
I will commend the dwarf however. He remained steadfast until I was about to leave where he finally broke and let out a shrill scream.
Unfortunately I returned the next day to find that the prisoner had perished and his corpse, together with my pet were torched by the guards. Apparently they were worried the worm would escape and decided to destroy it for safety measures. Weak minded fools.
I will need to speak with the priestess regarding those two.
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I am riled with mixed feelings over yesterdays happenings.
When I am around High Priestess Chanda I feel the need to please her. Why do I feel this way? I have never needed to please anyone other than myself. She is the Dark Lords Chosen and for that reason I guess I am compelled. Yet why do I find myself lured and used like a puppet on her strings? Is it the need to seek her approval, to impress upon her that I am greater than my father? Or is is simply her charm and her eloquence that becons me like a moth to an unholy flame?
Anyway I have met new people and placed names to many faces. In particular Eldarwen, or rather Serenity as Chanda commented as did my father in his journals. She shares an interesting relationship with Priestess Chanda. I almost get the feeling they've been playing cat and mouse for many years now. As usual Chanda plays the cat to perfection and in essence stamped her dominence over the lucinite.
I guess we all have interesting relationships. Chanda and Eldarwen, My father and Venus, now Sasha and I. I doubt we'll be friends after yesterday. She is a devout warrior, strong minded and challenging. I find it amusing that no one went to her aid when she fell. What was more interesting is that some even fled as she ran to their aid thus causing her imminent death.
When the priestess went to draw blood from her I felt a slight tug to thwart her actions. Why did I fell that? Perhaps spending so many months together has made me weak. I must remind myself of what is a stake, of what I will become. I cannot have any weaknesses where my road leads.
Hence when she approached later and questioned my alegience I gave it to her plainly. I could tell by her face that it was the end of our companionship. Farewell Sasha, perhaps our paths may cross yet again, perhaps in dire circumstances. Then again perhaps it's best not to meet ever again.
Anyway with regards to more important matters a stubborn and witless mage in the craft halls had constructed a unique machine. It happened cause the chaos that errupted in the Sewers of Hempstead. I took the time and liberty to draft the equipment (imagine diagrams provided below) and note down everything he stated. I also noted the method to reverse the effects of the poisonous acidic mist. Additionally I collected samples of the slime within the sewers for closer examination. I would like to see if I can reconstruct this machine. The priestess jested about using it to suffocate a Toran Temple. I intent to put it into practice. She would be most pleased.
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It was after days of discussion with Virtue that I finally made the decision to meet with Sasha once again.
I however did so after hours of preparation. With rumours circulating about the capture and questioning of Chanda and her cohorts I’ve managed to create some concoctions developed from my long studies of science and alchemy.
I’ve since bleached my hair blonde. It’s amazing how a simple hair change can make a difference.
To be absolutely sure of my new appearance I’ve additionally combined some reagents that tanned my skin hue as if I’ve spent a lifetime by the sea. Coupling my physical changes I’ve garbed myself in simple robes and gone under the pretence of an Aragenite wizard. I have learn’t their mannerisms from Sipher and my own personal experiences studying within their libraries.
The saying goes…’It’s better the devil you know.’ ‘To avoid the enemy you must be in bed with the enemy.’ Rightly so!
Virtue re-introduced me to Sasha the other day within Scamps Mug. He introduced me as Lucas and I must say I was most impressed when my guise fooled her blatantly. It was impressive to see the success of my labour.
Sasha is a useful tool. Through her I can keep consume knowledge freely about the Rofirenites and their movements. No one will suspect me as the enemy being so close to her.
Sasha will be able to open many doors for me and I’ll be able to pass through town without being singled out. On top of all that she is an asset to travel through volatile areas. I’ve seen her skill with the blade develop and honed to near perfection. She is both brave and dangerous, an invaluable combination for those whom know how to use it…namely me!
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*Alandric surveyed the floor before him. He had spent near four hours scrutinising his pentagram and candle array. There was no room for error here. Tonight he was going to test his powers. He was embarking on a journey he long dreamed of attempting. Tonight he would summon the mighty Gelugon.
After he was satisfied all was perfect he circled back to his writing desk where a large tome rested open on a small wooden stand. Opening one of the drawers he withdrew a large key and strode over to his door, locking it. He hesitantly placed the key back within the drawer and resumed his place over the tome, his fingers twitching nervously.
Focusing on his breathing, he took long deep breaths to clam himself. Cracking his knuckles he swallowed hard and turned to the pentagram, arms outstretched and weaving at the air in front of him. Every now and then Alandric would glance back to his tome, ensuring the arcane words were pronounced correct to every last syllable. These words were archaic and alien, forbidden from most parts of Layonara. The taint of magic was thick in the air, the candles flickered and Alandric almost faltered when one almost snuffed out. He continued laboriously, his words increasing in tempo and ending in a crescendo. With his last word he gestured abruptly to the centre of the pentagram.
In that instance a void opened within the Pentagram. It began sucking in air around him like an unholy vacuum. Scrolls and parchments went flying about the room. His robes flailed wildly about him. He maintained his focus, not allowing himself to be distracted by his surroundings. This is the discipline of a mage, concentration and focus.
Suddenly the vacuum ceased and all was quiet. Then a blast of cold wind containing tiny fragments of ice and snow burst up through the hole. Through the magical process the candles did not extinguish from the torrents of air, only they dimmed and remained motionless.
Two gargantuan claws protruded suddenly from the void, clasping the rim of the hole, the claws averted so the talons dug deep within the timber floor. It then proceeded to pull itself from the depths. The creature was fearsome, approximately eight to ten feet tall with tough leathery blue skin. It was bipedal and hunched, its joints muscled and sinewy.
Once its full body emerged from the depths, the void shut with a loud boom which reverberated through the house. The candles resumed their brightness the lines of the pentagram emanated a feint red glow.
The demon regarded Alandric with vilified contempt. Its huge body arched over and gazing down poised to rend his flesh.
Alandric was locked by the creatures stare. He was both fearful and exhilarated. He had done it! But what now? Had he secured his own doom? This creature should be bound by its master, yet the one standing before him was on the brink of attacking him.
The creature broke the silence by penetrating his mind. It spoke words foreign and undecipherable by Alandric. The words sounded aggressive, heavily accented with vowels and pronounced raucously.
The demon noticing Alandric’s stupor pitched another sentence in his mind. This was unlike the other language. It was flowing and almost magical, in many ways reminding Alandric of Elven. Alandric shook his head and shrugged.
Now irritated the Ice Devil tried something else. His words were now in common, tainted by its beastly accent. 'Are thou the one whom summed me?’
Alandric nodded.
The creature loomed closer and Alandric stepped back slightly. It lowered its head so that it was almost at eye level. 'Thou had best have cause lest I rend thee asunder!’ The words rang loud in Alandric’s mind.
'I summed thee to test my abilities. You are my first!’
The creature bellowed, this time in earnest. The walls shook, the floor vibrated as books began to falls from shelves and all manner or small object resounded in response.
The Gelugon, seething with hatred suddenly paced around the pentagram exploring the design. It was scrupulous in its search, desperately trying to find a flaw.
Suddenly it reverted its attention back to Alandric. 'I have been summoned by powerful wizards in the past. You are not one yet you complete the ritual precisely. Do you think you have the mind to command me? I will break you then consume you till your blood sates my thirst.’
At that point Alandric felt a great weight on his mind. The creature was attempting bend Alandric to its will. Fear clutched at his consciousness. What if it beats me? Is this how I die? How do I flee from this? Why, why WHY!? Alandric suddenly felt the need to flee. Spells came to his mind, namely Invisibility and Haste.
The creature sensing Alandric’s fear snarled mockingly. Drool rained to the floor as it drew backs its lips, revealing rows or deadly canines. 'I have feasted on countless weak mages. How I enjoy man-flesh’
Alandric was about to begin chanting a spell to escape when the heard the devil claim him to be a 'weak mage’. He scorned the word. It reminded him of his father’s failings, the way the Priestess would taunt him with it. It reminded him of all the aspects he hated about his mother and his life as a child. He had risen above all that. It would not cease now. Suddenly a wave of clarity dawned on him. Why should I succumb to this creature? I am its master. I summoned it! My pentagram is flawless thus it has relied on mind games. It is the one whom is fearful. I have succeeded!
All of a sudden the weight cleared from his mind and the creature bellowed in anger.
Alandric took a step closer and regarded the creature angrily. “Do not test me! I am more powerful than you can imagine. I am you master. You will obey me as my servant!”
The creature began tearing at its own flesh in frustration and anger.
“I have summoned you to this world. Here you will have prey to feast on. Here you will have many enemies to vent your anger. Here your opportunities are countless while you serve me....So long as you serve me.”
The creature halted and breathed heavily. It stepped closer, now pacified and resigned. It then spoke clearly in his mind once again. 'What is thy bidding master?’
Alandric smiled. “For now I want information. Tell me about the planes. Tell me about Hell.”
The Gelugon was visibly irritated that it had been summoned for information, however it complied to Alandric’s request. It answered all the questions Alandric asked before the spell dissipated where it disappeared back to its realm.
Alandric summoned it again and to his delight it was the same devil. Once the link and agreement was made between the Devil and its master, the same creature is summoned without the need of the pentagram. If the creature is killed on Layonara it simply disappears back to its realm. It can only be truly destroyed on its own world.
For the next few days Alandric summoned the demon many times over. He asked it to teach him about his kind, the realm and the many languages of the planes.
-
*Alandric sits at a writing desk idly noting inventory into his medical journal. In front of him are many vials of blood, all labelled and neatly organised in their wooden racks. In his left hand he rotates a vial between his fingers while his right hand notes the labels of those in front of him.*
Vials of blood taken from adventures:
Werewolf
Vampire
Hill Giant
Ogre
....many more names follow of all the fallen creatures he has slain in his travels...
...Minotaurs..
..Jack Honeydale - Halfling Male
Rose - Halfling Female
*He then looked at the vial in his left hand. As it turned slowly between his fingers he caught sight of the label over and over again. Chanda had taken this one. 'If only she knew' he thought to himself. He then ceased spinning the vial and placed it in a vacant hole in the rack upon the desk. He turned it so the label was facing out as all the others were and added her name to his journal.
...Sasha Tomyris - Human Female...
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Alandric sits at his writing desk leaning over a specimen which lies disected and pinned. He probes with various utensils mumbling to himself and stopping sporatically to jot notes in his tattered Medical Journal that rests beside him.
So engrossed is he that only the chill from an enity looming behind him breaks his concentration forcing him to turn nervously fast.*
"Priestess.....ah...y-you're back!", as he stands he knocks the chair backwards which collides against another small desk sending the vials and flasks off-balance that come crashing down.
His nervousness almost amuses the Priestess with only the slightest of smirks denotd by the tensing of her left eye. "You surprised to see me back?" She steps closer to him.
"Erh..not at all. I knew you'd escape....somewhow." He backed away from her slightly.
She stalked closer to him so that when she looked up at him her nose barely missed his chin. With one finger the pressed her sharp nail into his chest. The nail was more like a black dragons talon. It pierced his flesh slightly and small trickle of blood began to soak in his garment. He knew better than react. The cold fingernail felt like a dagger being driven into his heart, "Yet you made no effort to free me from our enemies!" Her eyes flared dangerously and he braced himself for death.
"I apologise priestess. I felt they were no match against a chosen of the Dark One. I knew you'd find an escape."
She twisted her fingernail once and Alandric grimaced. Suddenly she backed away and resumed a more casual pose. "You're correct. They were no match for me." She turned and began exiting the room pausing breifly at the doorway to add, "If there is ever a next time however, I'll take your absence as indication you'd rather me dead." She glanced over her shoulder briefly and cast a baleful glare forcing Alandric to swallow hard. "Then I'll have to start making some changes around here." She then disappeared from sight leaving Alandric clutching his chest trying to steady his heart beat.
-
To say the room was untidy would be a compliment. There were stacked tomes, loose parchments, animals and insect specimens, beakers and flasks foaming and dribbling, bones and decayed flesh in all manner and all forms residing in an assortment of cages and jars, vials of blood, magical scrolls and all manner of medical texts strewn about the room.
The odour heralded the condition of the room to any whom roamed past the door outside. The stench of carrion was predominant and only those accustomed to such odours found it tolerable.
Within this hive of mayhem sat Alandric Vensk, hunched over his writing desk busily reviewing a tome to his right. Pinned at his forefront was a fresh specimen of a human liver, infected by a bizarre concoction of bacterial and necromantic contagions. This liver was one of the many specimens granted from the temple from those freshly deceased or near enough to it.
He viewed the specimen through a unique gnomish microscope which magnified the specimen one hundred fold. In his gloved hands he held a metallic syringe which he carefully impaled the kidney, drawing twenty millilitres of dull red viscous fluid.
Alandric had spent years honing his medical skills. His hands were steady and his meticulous nature and passions for knowledge shaped him into a worthy scientist.
Whilst he was on par with most doctors and scientists he met through his endeavours to the great library and halls of knowledge within the temple of Aragen, his tastes were far removed from the norm.
Where most doctors sort to preserve and enhance life, Alandric found fascination in ending or mutating it in the most abhorrent and intriguing fashions.
Over the last year he had been gathering poisons and diseases from all over Layonara. He would use his necromancy abilities to twist and mutate these diseases to create weird and wonderful outcomes and test these diseases on his pets; followed by prisoners from the temple should High Priestess allow it. The one he was currently experimenting with was a breakthrough in his endeavour. One microscopic droplet of this contagion would send a healthy human male into a long and painful trip to the halls of the dead. It would slowly erode all living tissue on the inside and out until all that was left was a clean skeleton. The contagion was extremely potent and resilient to all most of the forms of healing Alandric was aware of. “A perfect weapon” he often thought to himself. “The Priestess will be pleased”.
The kidney before him was taken prior to the victim’s death. Alandric wanted to witness the extent of damage after two weeks of infection. After drawing some of the blood he was amazed at the rapid progression. The blood was already heavily tainted. He was about to inject the blood into a nearby lab-rat when the hairs on the back of his neck rose eerily. It broke his concentration and he turned rapidly to the door behind him, half expecting the Priestess to be standing there. “Nothing”. That was odd.
He turned back to the specimen and noticed a drop of blood on the table. It was out of place and seemed like normal human blood. His mind probed the writing desk, analysing the source of the blood. He checked off every intricate detail and suddenly a wave of clarity came to him. His eyes nervously flinched to his left hand and there it was, a small dollop of crimson on the tip of his index finger accented by the white gloves. His syringe had pricked his finger while he was momentarily distracted. He had just pricked his finger with the same contagion that he had manufactured.
“What have I done…?”
-
Time is running out.
I must decipher his notes.
The symptoms are prevalent now. The bleeding nose. The black mucus from the lungs. Fevers, weakness and now the most predominant....the degradation of skin tissue.
Yesterday I killed Dr Ludwig Venderwen and his guards. I have no tolerance for people with ethical and moral values. Science is science.
I stole his notes and am finding them harder to comprehend than I first anticipated. There are so many details. This will take some time and resources. I need a proficient laboratory and some subjects to test his theories.
I anticipate that with the contagions current rate of progression subjected to my many herbal and arcanic suppressants, I may have a few months before i'll be incapable of movement and thus imminent death. I must work around the clock and not be thwarted by anyone in this endeavour.
-
With the absence of the High Priestess I have taken the liberty to conduct my experiments on the prisoners of the church. Few have challenged my authority and only some threats that my actions will be passed to Priestess Chanda have been issued. "So what!" I don't have the time worry about the consequences of my actions. My immenent demise is far worse. I require hosts to test some of the theories dervied from the late Dr Venderwens notes. They are complex and incoherent. This is going to take far longer than I anticipated.
There is one major problem with the hosts from the temple. By the time I conduct my experiments on them, their bodies are already weak and emaciated from their torture and treatment. I need strong subjects, preferably healthy human males.
I have sent a request through the channels to purchase slaves from the underground factions and slave traders.
Additionally I'm planning on conducting experients on the poorer quarters of Port Hempstead under the ruse of a travelling charitable practitioner. I'll have Leisa sneak through the neighbourhood infecting them with my contagion so I can begin testing some of my manufactured antiserums. They'll think I'm a God servant. Little do they know which God I do serve.
To date I have been able to segregate some useful ingredients that seem to have slowed the debilitation process of the disease. I have yet to treat the skin tissue errosion without consuming obscene amounts of healing potions per day. Even so I am losing this battle.
Time is running out.
-
All Hallows Eve
The night breeze that careened through the Ire Mountains was cooler then usual. It was rank with the essence of necromancy, a phenomenon well known by most civilians across Layonara that remains unexplainable yet sets most people on edge during this unnatural night. For others, wise and adept whom worship such days and practice such crafts, this day was no mere phenomena. It was a night of heightened activity, empowered and invigorated by the essence of the Dark Lord, the Black Sun and Mad One, Lord Corath.
Only the few creatures that braved the plains below the mountains from the rabid wolf to the timid hare and are gifted with the acute sense of hearing can depict something else intermeshed within the night breeze. These creatures would depict chanting of the most foul and unholy of nature. The words whilst incomprehensible by wild animals still set them on edge. Barely a creature roams this night, opting for the furthest and darkest niches of their burrows and cavern lairs, for they all know this night belongs to another creature or rather swarm of creatures. These cold blooded unholy manifestations feel no pain, fear no enemy and roam seeking the warm blood of all things living. This night belongs to the dreaded and most unholy children of the Black Sun, spawned by his devout servants and empowered by his dark essence. This night the Temple of Corath, nestled deep within the most remote crevasse of the Ire Mountains is a beacon of necromancy. Its halls are filled with his servants from humans to humanoids, demons, undead and the ethereal.
The Main Community hall is filled with the chorus of the countless beings reciting foul incantations, echoing the composer, a female hooded figure in black standing amidst a ring of flame behind a black alter.
High Priestess Chanda revels in her glory. She basks in the darkness of his most unholy. Alandric grins as she motions for her dark acolytes to summon another victim, a prisoner and servant for some other lesser god.
The Acolytes lift the whimpering middle aged man onto the alter and enchant various divine incantations to cease his wild and desperate flailing.
Chanda lifts her arms into the air and recites verses from the black tome of Corath. Alandric joins the communion and echoes her words to perfection.
She then lifts a silver, cruel looking curved dagger and incants a few silent prayers. Suddenly she draws the blade across the neck of the prisoner in an unholy sacrifice.
Blood drains from his body from which one acolyte catches in a golden urn beneath the alter.
Before the man perishes, she drives the blade a second time into his chest severing his breastplate. Driving her hand deep into his torso she plucks his heart, tearing the arteries and veins as it still beats.
She lifts the heart above her head and recites another verse from the black tome. Her words are loud and unnatural, carried by the mystical powers of her being throughout the hall.
The gathering cheers in commemoration.
When the crowd finally ceases its cheering and the heart ceases to beat in her hand she places it on a silver tray that another acolyte holds out next to her. Both the acolyte holding heart on silver tray and the acolyte holding the blood in the golden urn pace around the alter towards a bubbling dark cauldron which resides a few paces behind the alter. They carefully place the heart and blood of the latest sacrifice into the cauldron and return to the priestess just as the other two acolytes toss the body aside onto a pile of other recently sacrificed individuals. They then disappear down the halls to retrieve another sacrifice.
Alandric wonders how many she will sacrifice before the sun rises. He wonders what abhorrent vile creatures will roam the land triggered by this ritual.
He closes his eyes calmly and draws deep the rank necromantic cool air of the temple and grins in anticipation when he hears the acolytes dragging in the next sacrifice, a kicking and screaming beautiful woman.
This night has been quite intriguing.
-
I had a most interesting meeting with Sasha earlier today.
I could see before she spoke that she was both reluctant and apprehensive about doing so. Our relationship has been heading in this direction. Time has not healed the wounds of my original deception, veiling my allegience between Chanda and the Corathites. It was only a weak bandage but a useful ruse to gain her companionship and thus personal objectives.
Now however, she breaks some interesting news. Her and a number of people are on a journey to Arnax for some reason that she would not unveil. Her speech was most cryptic and I feel she was testing the waters and indirectly asking for my attendance. I naturally declined, stating I had present more important matters. She left in somewhat dismay yet possibly my reluctance offered some clarity to her thoughts. I must act at once.
I feel it's time I sever the arragement her an I share. It has been painful at times, my fortitude pushed to the limits having to journey with her vile companions, listening to their jovial comments and tortured by their gloating happiness. I have had enough and it is time I serve the Dark One as a loyal servant that I am. I will compile a message and send it to the current High Priest or Priestess of Arnax, making them aware of Sasha and her companions. I am certain that they will be less than thrilled having a mortal enemy knocking on their doorstep.
-
**A black note with elegant flowing script is sent to the Corath temple in Arnax**
For the attention of High Priest(ess), //The heirarchy is always changing due to conflict and chaos among the orders//
I Alandric Vensk, sevant of the Mad One whom hails from the dominion of High Priestess Chanda wish to address thee with important news.
A party of explorers, gathered and lead by a Rofierenite warrior woman named Sasha Tomyris, are planning an adventure to the great city Arnax for reasons that I was not able to pry.
Be advised that this woman has many powerful friends, all of which are in league with her aligned lesser god. Since this party are the mortal enemies of the Black Sun I would suggest you take this information with high consideration
I am in no position to dictate your course of action, only to warn you of the possible threat and more so, the possible opportunity to deliver death onto our mortal foes.
Should you wish to meet in person simply send word and I will journey at once.
A disciple of the Dark Lord,
Dr Alandric Vensk
-
I have failed.
This contagion, manufactured by my own hand is leading to my own demise.
I have tried everything. All recorded herbal remedies, alchemic serums and magical solutions have been explored. I have studied for years, stolen and murdered to gain information. All of it *Pauses to wipe some blood that dripped from his nose onto the page, smearing it uncaracteristiclly* useless!!
I have come to the conclusion that science will not suffice. Magic is my last solution.
Hence I have decided after much deliberation that my only chance of survival is to follow in the footsteps of my father, Ramanon Vensk. It is ironic how his legacy lives on. Here, at the crossroads of my salvation I am forced to follow his footsteps to lichdom. It is the only solution left to me.
I have calculated that at the rate of my degredation, factoring the daily consumtion of potent remedies that suppress the disease, I'll have enough time to continue my fathers search for undeath.
Desperate times call for desperate measures and I am risking searching the chests throughout the house including Chanda's and Cassandra's personal chambers for all of my fathers belongings. No doubt Chanda and Cassandra have taken most of them, however fortune has certainly favoured the brave with some intersting items being found. I also now have all his books which I will study over to ensure i miss nothing.
Other than delving solely into the mysteries of necromancy at the expense of science I have thrown myself into complete and utter devotion to the Mad One. Perhaps through him I may also unlock some secrets to the mysteries of afterlife.
-
A long time has passed since I last set quill to paper.
I have traveled far and gained knowledge and experience in the dark arts. My powers grow and through this I have managed to ward the mysterious behaviour of my own creation that pollutes my blood.
I have a long way to go yet.
I have managed to locate some of my father legacies, most noteworthy his greatsword. This dark rune encrusted blade was alien to my initial touch. As my powers grew so did the attraction towards the blade. Now i wield it with precision. Unlike my scalpel which can deal death with a minor incision, this blade cleaves with tremendous ease. Death is usually more rapid to my prey, much to my disappointment, however it's effectiveness is unquestionable.
I have dusted off my toolbox and begun working once again on the prisoners of the church. Oh how I miss surgery. *He licks his licks feverishly*
My nights I spend in worship to the Mad One. I pray that he grants me the insight to lichdom. It is the only ultimate cure to my ailment. I will tread in my fathers shoes and walk the path of the palemaster. Unlike he I will not fail the Black Sun.
Over the next coming months I plan to research all the dark secrets of the palemaster. My fathers notes are incomplete. I will need to speak with necromancers abroad, the black wizards and the high priests. Hepefully they will complete my studies and I can dive into this new transition.
For the first time I feel invigorated. Let nothing stand in my way!
-
Blood pooled across the cave floor, remnants from the recently slain Giants. Their corpses and surrounding cavern were vaguely illuminated by the glow of arcane defences which buzzed and crackled in an unnatural aura around the black mage. The same lights cast eerie silhouettes along the stretch of corridor, enhancing the size of the mage and his companion, a grotesque six-armed snakelike woman, deformed and unnatural.
All was now deathly quiet, all but the continuous tapping of chisel upon rare deposits of precious stones.
Alandric
-
//Here are snippets from my recently completed CDQ.
I can only attach as word doc due to tech reasons//
-
//Converted word doc to normal format//
//Again a snippet from last CDQ//
Blood pooled across the cave floor, remnants from the recently slain Giants. Their corpses and surrounding cavern were vaguely illuminated by the glow of arcane defences which buzzed and crackled in an unnatural aura around the black mage. The same lights cast eerie silhouettes along the stretch of corridor, enhancing the size of the mage and his companion, a grotesque six-armed snakelike woman, deformed and unnatural.
All was now deathly quiet, all but the continuous tapping of chisel upon rare deposits of precious stones.
Alandric’s attention was focused on prizing fire opals from the cave walls. His maralith servant loomed close by, licking its wounds from the recent battle.
“You’re unusually quiet today. What are you up to?” Alandric commented to the Maralith which he regarded briefly through his peripheral vision.
“Massters,” it replied with an alien female dialect, “you presumes too muchs.”
Alandric chuckled. “You torment me daily. You ridicule and remind me of my imminent demise at every opportunity. What is different today?”
“Nothing master,” is almost spat the word master. The ignominy of being summoned and used by lesser mortals on distant planes wrought hatred through the beast. If it had a moment it would kill its master. Unfortunately Alandric was more powerful than some mages and the battle was often a stalemate. For now the creature forced itself to be submissive. “I live only to serve y-”
“And don’t you forget that!” Alandric interjected with a stern voice, his irritation evident. This time he prized the last of the stone and turned to confront the creature face to face.
“I may be dying, but I can still have my way with you before I go. Do not doubt my power worm.”
The creature’s muscles flexed and Alandric readied a precautionary spell. The stand-off lasted long seconds before the creature conceded defeat. This is how it was. The relationship was volatile and Alandric never allowed himself to be unprepared. He made that mistake once before when he cast Gate for the first time. It brought forth a Balor which immediately attacked him. He barely managed to slay the beast, yet the experience made him wiser.
Alandric was about to turn to a second deposit of fire opal when the Maralith broke the silence. “Master, about your sickness…”
‘Here we go’, Alandric thought.
“…wez might know of cure for yous”.
Alandric turned to regard the creature. “Well this is a new tactic. What are you planning? “
“Nothing masters. If you go wes have not mage to brings us here to fight. We wants to keep you here.”
“Who is we?” He questioned harshly.
“Us.” The creature’s six arms made a circling motion. “Yous well known in de abyss”
Alandric rubbed his chin. “Well that sounds comforting”. His sarcasm was lost on the creature. “I’ve travelled across the globe, studied ancient tomes, prayed and conducted vial experiments on myself to beat this affliction. How is it you think you have a cure?”
“Master, ish not me who haz cure. The great Lord of de Pits has powers to fix you up.”
“Lord of the Pits?” Alandric questioned. The creature nodded. “Are you telling me that you think some great Balor has the means to fix an ailment he knows nothing about?”
The creature nodded, “He is most powerful and lives for eons. He has powers greater than all on dis world. HE can fix yous master.”
“And you think I’d summon this creature on a whim that would likely end up getting me killed?”
“Masters, I feel silly for telling yous, as you already must know that all summoners can be protected when Gating by using the appropriate rituals.” The creature feigned humility.
Alandric contested the Maralith. “But each Gate requires a unique ritual to protect the summoner. I was almost killed when I Gated a Balor for my first time. Now you suggest I Gate a Balor LORD? I don’t suppose you know the appropriate preparations?”
Remarkably the creature nodded and began scribing on the ground with one of its scimitars, the pentagram design and summoning commands, written in a language Alandric recognised through his years of study.
Alandric frowned as he watched the creature complete the last of the incantation rites. It regarded him with a meekness that made him angry. It was testing him and he did not want to show cowardice in front of the abomination.
“Very well. I’ve memorized the ritual. I’ll summon him when I’m ready”.
The creature bowed almost mockingly, “Naturally masters.”
Days passed and Alandric could not shake the idea of summoning the Balor Lord. He was certain it was a trap. The sudden niceties from an abyssal servant were disconcerting. More importantly however was that the pentagram design was flawed. It almost evaded Alandric’s scrutiny yet was written with such alacrity he was sure it was purposeful. The detail was exceptionally small and would not have been identified with an untrained eye. Years of study both medically and mystically have taught Alandric to pay attention to all detail. If the Gate was performed with the flawed design he was certain that the summoned creature would break free from its prison. Alandric knew he should not be surprised by this tactic. The out-worlds viewed all other creatures as lesser beings and probably imagined Alandric to be none the wiser. It was a trap that much was sure yet his curiosity was immense. Alandric decided that he would spring the trap, only this time he would be prepared.
For summoning a named Lord Alandric require certain preparations. Firstly he needed a place to conduct the ritual. He also needed an offering and an escape.
Due to some late irritations with certain Toranites he decided to break into a home within Fort Llast and conduct the summoning there. Additionally he captured some locals from the area, which included a paladin just for good measure.
Alandric’s comrade and apprentice Revone Starr aided with the captures. He had proven his uses through the years and his skills were developing to a point to be dependable. Regardless he was about the only person Alandric would trust to aid him if the situation became desperate.
The house they chose had been vacant for some time. They had been preparing the basement for days, coming and going as they pleased under the cloak of invisibility. The prisoners were unconscious, sedated from mild toxins that Alandric formulated. He shackled them to the floor within a pentagram design which he modified from the Maralith’s instructions. It was drawn with human blood, no more than an hour old.
Revone followed his instructions precisely without question which also impressed Alandric. The young Spellsword was placing the black candles in their designated positions and began lighting them in order. Alandric stepped back and waited for Revone to complete the final preparations. He stood shortly after and turned to acknowledge Alandric that he was complete with a curt nod.
Alandric circled the pentagram one last time and studied its every line. He scanned the arcane runes also written in blood to ensure their authenticity. When he was happy he began casting protective magic on himself and Revone. ‘I’m not taking any chances with this one’ he thought to himself.
When he was complete he walked and front of the Pentagram and took one last look at Revone to ensure he was also ready. Revone was positioned two steps behind Alandric. His sword was held ready, flaming and crackling with electrical energy, whilst emanating a chill from the various combined elements that surrounded the blade. In his left hand his shield was held poised. His face was totally obscured from the surrounding darkness, however, his eyes reflected the magical energies from his blade like two glowing coals in the night. He was ready.
Alandric took a long breath and began the incantation that would summon the Balor Lord.
The incantation only lasted seconds yet the concentration and delivery felt like hours to Alandric. It began much the same way as most Gate spells yet the repetition of calling his name seemed endless. Each time he called his name he felt a familiar pull against the weave. The pull was only feint yet it was there. He would do it over and over, each time using his will to push against the blackness and grab hold of the sensation with his mind. Each time he repeated his name the pull was stronger and Alandric would push against it stronger in return. It was like breaking a tree branch. It takes small movements to and fro, up and down, little by little. With each repetition the branch bends a little further and you push back a little harder. Eventually with perseverance the branch would break. Just like the branch the weave suddenly gave way and opened the portal. The floor within the pentagram opened wide and two gargantuan claws protruded immediately though. They inverted and the claws drove down, digging into the flagstones as they pulled the immense creature through. The candles flickered violently and suddenly two went out. Alandric desperately glanced at Revone and he was already at the scene re-igniting them with a small gesture of his hand.
Before long the room went still and the gargantuan creature loomed well above them both, hunched to avoid hitting the ceiling.
It looked much the same as other Balors yet it seemed older and more deadly. Its eyes burned with seething hatred and its claws flexed like an array of black short swords.
In a voice that rumbled the very foundations of the house, the creature regarded the two Corathites, “So you must be Alandric Vensk?”
If it were not for years of conditioning through the service of Corath, Alandric was certain any lesser man would flee from the creature. Additionally his mind immunities added some comfort, possibly making him over confident.
“I see that those from your realm know how to communicate.” It was a statement rather than a question. His assertion was abrupt and the creatures eyes flared and its lips peeled back to reveal razor sharp canines. “And yes,” Alandric held his gaze, “I am he.”
“I am the Great One, Lord of Lords, Master of Slaves, and Warlord of the Pits.” You would do well to learn your place”.
Alandric bowed slightly in response.
The creature seemed a little pleased at that and broke his attention to the slaves shackled at his feet. “An offering?”
Alandric smiled and gestured to them.
The creature immediately reached down snatching two from the floor, busting the chains that shackled them as if they were no more than thin cobwebs. Its maw engulfed their torsos and drained their blood with a satisfied smile. “It has been so long since I’ve gorged on man-flesh. Oh how I miss the sweetness.”
Suddenly the creature averted its attention to the pentagram and tossed the bodies as if they were rag-dolls. It followed the design in a full circle and seemed to hesitate momentarily. “Where is it?”
Alandric braced himself. This was when the fun would begin. “Are you looking for the flaw in the design?”
The creature snapped its head in his direction and glared at him.
“I corrected it. Your slave was not very convincing and I’m much more intelligent to miss such a pathetic ruse. You should learn to be more subtle”.
The creature bellowed in rage. Alandric was sure that it would have woken the whole town.
“You pathetic human! You dare test me?” It growled. “Do you think this pentagram is enough to protect you?”
Alandric tried to shout over the volume of the beast. “I want something first and then I’ll let you go. What do you know of a cure for my disease?”
“You do not question me mortal! Thou conviction irritates me. You will die for you impudence and I will be the one to deliver it now!”
Immediately the creature forced its will on Alandric. He could feel it squeezing his mind and body and he floundered to release a spell. “Revo-“ he tried to call his comrade yet the might of the beast overwhelmed him and his legs buckled. He managed a glance to Revone and the man was held fast, transfixed with something else. Alandric realized he too was under a spell.
Suddenly the pain took a new toll. His mind blasted in agony and his body ached within. Through the whirlwind of noise in his head Alandric could barely make out the voice of the Balor over its tempo.
“You may have avoided releasing me to your world but I will take your soul with me and add it to my collection.”
Before he lost consciousness Alandric could only remember the two burning eyes of the Balor before all became veiled in darkness.
…then there was no pain….only darkness. He knew he was dead, it had happened before when he was killed in battle. It was the void yet usually the void was devoid of any sound. This time he could still hear the creature, faintly in the distance. It was communicating with another entity. Alandric tried to listen harder and eventually began to hear the other voice, or was it voices?
“I own it! It is mine to take!” he heard the familiar voice of the Balor.
“You cannot. You will not. This one belongs to us.” The voices were three fold. They were male and spoke in unison. The voices were calm yet carried much power.
“You have not right to take him from me. I am cheated!” The creature contested.
“This Gate was unsanctioned. He has unfinished business. This conversation is over,” the voices replied.
Alandric felt the hairs on his neck perk in reaction to powerful magics being used.
Suddenly he heard the Demon scream in protest which gradually diminished until it vanished.
“We should take him to the tower before he passes.” He heard one voice command.
“We agree came the other two voiced in unison.”
Suddenly all went silent once again and he drifted in the darkness…
... feeling of cold stone was against his back. His awareness returns and he tries to open his eyes yet they seemed forced shut. His arms hang limply beside his body. As he tries to concentrate a cold needle penetrates his breastplate. The pain is excruciating and he tries to scream.
He drifts out again…
…he feels the same cold slab of stone on his back. Is it stone or metal? He can’t decide. He can smell formaldehyde solution. He can hear the bubbling of liquid against glass. It reminds him of his lab at home. A cold hand lifts his limp arm. It is his left arm. He tries to move it but it will not yield. All he can feel is the coldness of the fingers that hold it. It is numbing. Through the coldness he suddenly feels warmth at his wrist. It now burns and he clenches his teeth. The burning subsides and he can feel warmth trickle down his arm. ‘Is that blood?’ he thinks to himself.
Two voices break the silence in unison. “Ensure you drain his body completely.”
‘Are they opening my wrist?’ he tries to think then suddenly everything seems disorientated within the darkness and everything subsides as he drifts once again….
…he can open his eyes for the first time. He can’t lift his head yet he manages to turn it just enough to glance on either die of his body.
His right arm is strapped to a metal table. Tubes protrude from veins, connected to some apparatus he cannot identify. Suspended above the apparatus are three humans, recently deceased from what Alandric can tell. They are crudely held via hooks through the shoulder blades. Their faces are blank, white with eyes locked in a deathly stare. They are naked except from a gown which covers their torso. Blood trickles down from incisions made beneath the gowns. It drips down to their toes and into a metal trough which feeds the bizaare apparatus. He looks to his left and can his arm which is strapped in the same manner. A crude incision opens his wrist to the bone. He feels suddenly nauseous. With a deep breath he closes his eyes and controls his breathing. After long moments he opens them and suddenly a gloved hand appears right before his sight which pushes his head down shutting his vision. A small blade cuts deep into his neck and he screams. Everything drifts off again into darkness.…
…he is in a vertical position strapped to a cold metal surface. He looks around the room and his thoughts were correct. It is a laboratory. Beakers, flasks and all manner of jars line the shelved walls.
He looks at his wrists and it is crudely sewn shut. He looks down at his torso and can see scars across his abdomen and chest. They have also been crudely shut. He gulps his saliva and it is cold and tasteless. ‘What have they done to me?’ Suddenly he yawns. He closes his eyes and falls to sleep.
…when he wakes this time he is in his own bed. He leaps up and gazes around the room to ensure it is his own. He reaches down to touch his stomach. He can feel the scars. ‘It wasn’t a dream’. Alandric shivers and looks down at his left arm. The wound is still very raw. ‘Odd that this has not healed when the others have.’
His body feels cold and he covers himself with a blanket. It does not seem to help. He grabs another and again nothing changes. In defiance he tosses them both and falls back to the bed, head in hands. ‘What was it they said?’ he questions himself. ‘This one is ours? This one has unfinished business?’ He rubs his face and feels a lengthy beard. ‘How long has it been? Must be at least a month or two by this beard.’
Days pass and the reality of ordeal finally hit home. Alandric feels changed. He no longer feels the arcane powers he once knew, however, his body seems transformed. Food has lost its taste and he feels constantly cold among other things. Above all these hindrances Alandric feels a sudden eagerness to get back to work with vigour he had never experienced before.
“What has happened to me?” he whispers to himself and falls back to the bed contemplating his next moves.
-
I've just made a purchase with Revone on Central. A house in Prantz will be our new base for operations. This is the first step of many before I challenge the High Priest and take control of the temple. I'm slowly building an army of followers.
First and foremost I have Revone, an able swordsman who has complimented his skills from my arcane teachings. I foresee he will be a force to be rekoned with.
Secondly Hal has proved a worthy ally. Of all the Priests within the clergy I place my faith in him. Through his seeming impairment I believe there is an intelligent person, one who can be persuasive and intimidating simultaneously. I feel more comfortable having a priest up my sleeve. He is easily lead, or perhaps he is simply allowing me to lead for now.
Lastly a new recruit is displaying the makings of a great warrior. His name is Dog and he is both fearless and respectful. He does what he is told regardless of the consequences. He will be an asset.
Our endeavours in Fort Llast have also surfaced. Rumours are spreading of the family we sacrificed within the basement of one of the houses. They know not what they are dealing with yet, however, I had better change my attire before someone recognises me from my frequent visits. Best to eliminate suspicion, especially when it involves Toranites.
-
//this is to all players whom may be able to make Alandric's CDQ//
***From the darkness a hideous and vile zombie appears bearing a rolled up scroll. Normally a site such as this would frighten ten strong men, however you are a Corathite and thus conditioned to much worse. You take the scroll and the creature immediately returns into the darkness from whence it came. The scroll is made from what seems to be dried human flesh (appraise DC 5). The scroll is sealed with red wax bearing the insignia of a rams skull. Breaking the wax you unroll it and are confronted the elegant flowing writing in black ink signed at the bottom by Dr Vensk. It reads: ***
[to whom it reads it],
I have taken the liberty to offer you a choice. Few know my true name, however many will recognise and address me as Dr Vensk. Yes I am the man who enjoys tinkering with the anatomy of all living things, most of which cease to exist once I complete my work. I am the man who dabbles in the dark arts and have been blessed by it's unholy power. I am also the man who carries a legacy of immense magnitude that burdens my existence and brings me to the essential point. I am angry. I am disgusted and restless with the current condition of the church and seek to bring those in charge to their knees.
The church on mistone is growing weak. Those whom hold positions of power grow fat from their idleness as they wallow in the decadance created from the blood of the true followers from many years ago. Their mere existence disgusts me and my tollerance is at an end.
I seek to assume a position of power within the church. I can not describe to you what this position will be, only that when I succeed I will break the idleness and bring the church to it's intended glory. Those weak leaders will learn to fear my wrath should they live long enough, and should they not, I'll animate their corpses to serve in their afterlife.
The decision I give to you is to join me on this journey, show some allegience to the rightful cause and share with me the spoils of victory. As a Corathite you no doubt have seen many battles within the church as members fight for positions of power. I ask you not to sit on the fence this time. Join with me and earn the respect from the most Unholy. If you choose to not aid my cause then stand aside unless you seek to become my enemy.
The time is nigh and I act soon. My summons will contact you when I plan to strike. Be ready at the Chruch and do not spread word of this.
You have been warned.
Dr Vensk
//I know many of you can not make the CDQ. Feel free to comment IC if you so wish.//
-
//Following Alandric's successful CDQ//
**the following is written in large print with a heavy hand denoting both exuberance and elation.**
Alas I am triumphant!
I have stepped away from the shadow of my father and taken fate by my own grasp. I have proven to all within the temple that I am truly the rightful leader of the Veneficus. Surely the Mad One deems me worthy.
By curies minio I have eliminated a long standing Stipatio and taken his place. No longer will the church sit idle while our enemies grow stronger. As the new oraculum Stipatio I'll see to the carrying out of the dark ones will. First however I need to solidify my allies within the church. No doubt the remnants of the previous Stipatio plot and scheme revenge against me. I must eliminate all competition swiftly to strengthen my resolve. Then I will set myself up for the highest position, the Oraculum Mortis.
There are few who are worthy of noting due to their aid and thie loyalties.
**Alandric lists them in tabular order*
Brandin Fleetfoot - whilst not a member of the faith he is a truly resourceful servant
Revone Starr - My apprentice has the courage that few can match. His skill with both sword and spell have solidified his position under me.
Jehoram - This one heeded my call when I sent out my challenge. His sword arm is strong and swift. The casualties in his wake announce his abilities. He is a truly worthy ally.
Dog - This one like Jehoram also has the skills surely fit for his unholy glory. He loyalty to me, obedience and fearlessness are a useful and reliable tool.
Hal - This priest has ability to lead the church but seems content to ally with me. To have his favor is another string to my bow.
There are many others I have in mind to join me. First I will need to test their abilities and evaluate their loyalties.
Now, once I clean all hint of my predecessors stench, I'll set to work immediately spreading the will of the dark one.
I will not fail like my father had!
-
Tonight I write of Victory against one of my most hated foes, the Toranites. As circumstance would have it a Dark Elf female crossed our path, offering a bargain to slay the Toranites for a fee. 5000GP per person to lay waste to their fort west of Fort Miritrix. The gold was of no consequence as I would have completed the task for free. The interesting aspect was having a cohesive unit to take down these advesaries. My comrades are well chosen and whilst some linger and twist their moral over right from wrong, in the end they will bend to my will.
In the end the blood of over a dozen Toran warriors drained into the soil. I only hope it reaches far enough to appease the Dark Lord.
-
Surely the Mad One is pleased.
We spent yet another night bathed in bloodshed, this time near Haven. Through Jehoram we were fortunate to end the miserable lives of many paladins of Vorax. During the foray however, we did fell some of our own who sort to betray and profit from our actions. Their lives are of no consequence and their corpses will line the halls of the dark lord in row.
*lifts his quill from the paper while a memory makes him chuckle, careful not to smudge the ink. When the moment passes he continues writing.*
Jehoram came out of it less fortunate. Hal took his eye prior to ressurecting him as a lesson in the service of the dark one. He had fallen to a demilich, a nobel advesary to fall against, however his actions earlier had irritated Hal and myself. His mind was clouded and confused, too much indecision and second thinking. If he seeks to become a feared leader of the Ravens then he must learn to strike first and contemplate later. Regardless Hal's purefication will be a long lesson learnt.
One other aspect that is niggling at me is the Dark Elf language. I feel it is time to learn it while I have time. To many around me speak the underground language and I cannot allow them to conspire behind my back. I have had many comrads over time speaking the language and have picked up various words and phrases. People such as Yvale, Leisa, Nih, Daralith and more.
I require one who is willing to teach, or perhaps I will capture one as my slave. My superior is a Dark Elf and my many recent confrontations with them has cemented my decision. I will begin at once.
//This leads into Alandric sourcing Hoodlums recent submission for Dark Elf Cleric/Fighter from within the temple at Arnax.//
-
He sits by the fireplace in deep contemplation. The night is cold and all nightlife seemed to have abandoned the vicinity, creating a deathly quiet ambience with only the crackle of the fire to break its solace. His team, once tallying a dozen is now down to three...three plus a child. The child. Always the child. A beacon of chaos incarnate. He gazes at the child who unnaturally seems to look back coincidentally bearing a visage of anguish and hatred towards him. Behind those black portals of the child's eyes are immense powers that are twisted and unified to god-like proportions. It seems almost unfair that Alandric is burdened with a legacy passed down from his father's failures and compounded with interest into a human form.
Suddenly the scrape from a wet-stone over a well-used blade brings his attention back. Jehoram idly sharpens his great sword rhythmically as he contemplates his own ambitions. He is a good servant, destined to be a high ranking member of the Raven Guard one day. For now he is one of the few Corathites that Alandric can trust....but only at arm's length.
Hal on the other hand is one that Alandric watches least. They have grown over time to accept one another, each with his own unique interests that would upset the balance of a normal persons we'll being. Their appreciation revolves around the 'end' overpowering the 'means'. This cohesion was built on actions, not thoughts and in doing so they're alliance could almost be called a friendship.
These two are all he has to rely on other than himself. He sent the others away. He had to. Mercanaries they were. At least that was how they started. Perhaps it was the child's powers of corruption or the manner of the work that got the better of them. In the end they were worse than mercanaries. They were worse than...s. Men and women who accepted payment for dirty work, only to question the manner of their work once they were paid. Pathetic! Good riddance! The poisons would get them in the end. They would succumb to Alandric's trickery. He had no intention of saving their pathetic lives. At least that would save him looking over his shoulder in the months to come.
Then he had to dwell on his own kind. All factions from the church tracking him down. Fools! They think the child a boon from the Mad One. A prize to claim and for the victor the unholy eye of Corath to bestow his favour and infinite wisdom. How wrong they are. Unable to enter his own temple without preparing for battle before-hand. Unable to confide in leaders from the two churches for guidance. Unable to gain their support for the well-being of the church. No...he doesn't expect them to understand. Why should they? They are all feeble minded and undisciplined. None lack the supreme intelligence as his. None ever had. Correction. Some do...
...the Black Wizards...a group who saved his life once, replaced it with another which leads to un-life. One would think this a curse yet Alandric has a sense of indebtedness to them. They make arrangements which are the most amicable that Alandric has experienced since the onset of his quest. Strange that he now confides in their strength and for the first time trusts someone. ..
...But...during the course of adventure and desperation, Alandric also places his trust in another...Storan. The man..correction...lich, tells his story and Alandric is both captivated and willing to assist. Alandric sets in stone a new contract with Storan. He now has contracts with many factions and individuals. Some Alandric knows he must break, others he knows he will fail, but in the end his self preservation will remain, his powers will grow and over time the means in doing so will become a distance memory...