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Dark Immolation
 
PostPosted: Sun, Nov 26 2017, 23:12 PM 

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Tester

Joined: 20 Apr 2008
Location: The downeaster "Alexa"





"Who else but a h̬͔͢e͏͔̟̗̱̝̟̱r͖͖͜e̛͈͉̬̪̩̺͓t͔͙͓̩i̗c͔̤͇̫̀ c͉o̘͍ͅu̮̟͕l̪̖̙͖͖̳͖͇d̖̫̱̰̹̠̰ͅ d̠̗͍͙͉e̞l̫̯̖̘̥͈̗̝i͙͙̳͈ṿ̼̯e̗͎͉̖͈̞̭͖r̜͉ t̹̻̥̱̰͕͚̓͑h̀̒̇͐è̥̠͙̋̍͋̈ͨ d̉ͤ̔̂̾a̼͖̮͍̘͆̆̽̌ͅm̟͎̹ͨͧ͂ͪn̤̺e̹̫̭̯ͨͣ̐d̺̞̥͆̐̉̇ t̻̩̙͚͉̭̗ͮ̃ͣͥ̌́̌ͫ̚o̘̯̮͎̪̱̞̥͈͙̘ͥͣ̄ͭ̊̑̉̒ ḡ̫͓̙̹̪͕̮̟͌ͤͫ̌̓̽ͯ̓ͬ͂̃͌l͓̰̫̜̯̝̮̪̄͐ͩ̈̽o̠͇͈̹͕̰͔͌ͥ̓̿͆̈͒ͧ̽ͤ͗̂̈͑́ȑ͓̻͍̥̟͉̐̂͒̂̌y̻̺̗̬̣̠̼̟̺̞͙̣̒͌̌͒̒ͬ̉͌́?͇̹̦̲̜̣͖̜̳͔̝ͤ͛̃͋ͭ͋̓̑ͪ̌̂̇̚"

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Let the word go out:

In a derelict temple
On a forgotten enclave
In the middle of a placid sea,

A fire has begun.

Scoured stone. Burning dust.
The Weave has reclaimed Its house.

_________________
Image
You think Magic is your ally... but you merely adopted the Art. He was born in it. Molded by it.
Sometimes, an angel is simply a devil with better intentions.


 
      
Dark Immolation
 
PostPosted: Thu, Dec 07 2017, 5:38 AM 

User avatar

Tester

Joined: 20 Apr 2008
Location: The downeaster "Alexa"

Image

In darkness dreaming, a man lies waiting.

_________________
Image
You think Magic is your ally... but you merely adopted the Art. He was born in it. Molded by it.
Sometimes, an angel is simply a devil with better intentions.


 
      
Dunecat
 
PostPosted: Thu, Dec 07 2017, 21:45 PM 

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Player

Joined: 18 Aug 2012
Location: +3 GMT

He is not alone; grey silhouette looms around the building. Where he lingers, echoes of light remain.

_________________
Image

Mistakes were made.


 
      
Lutra
 
PostPosted: Thu, Jan 11 2018, 19:28 PM 



DM

Joined: 13 Feb 2008

It appears that the dead and the undead servants of Tarkuul do not seem to bother with the presence of the drow and his friends in the empty building. However, after a while a few shadow mage, begin to observe the process...if they are actually observing anything. The slim and shady shape of their cloaks are rather appearing as the echo of the doings of the drow, nothing more for now. Regardless, their dealings have attracted some attention.

_________________
Lord Hector Sylgerand Image
Glendil Fettian, the black bard Image


 
      
Dunecat
 
PostPosted: Sat, Jan 13 2018, 21:01 PM 

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Player

Joined: 18 Aug 2012
Location: +3 GMT

For over a month by now, on a semi-weekly basis, the lights were lit in the once-darkened temple.

_________________
Image

Mistakes were made.


 
      
Dark Immolation
 
PostPosted: Mon, Jan 15 2018, 10:21 AM 

User avatar

Tester

Joined: 20 Apr 2008
Location: The downeaster "Alexa"


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A CRY WITHIN THE SHADOWS: THERE ARE NONE TO HEAR IT.
THE BLOODY HAND RAISED, A VAINGLORIOUS MOTION FOLLOWS.
SWIFT—A PROFANE KISS!—THE ICHOR PRESSED TO TREMBLING LIPS.
HEART LEAPS WITHIN ITS CHEST, DRUM AND MARCHER TO MADDENING CADENCE.
BEGORED DIGITS OUTSTRETCHED AND DRIPPING RED, A MAN SPEAKS.


Come. Look.


NONE COME. NONE SEE.


E̯̘̒̂ͬ̀v̭͙͊͐e̞̫͎̙̖͖͇n̦͇̹̻͖͋ͭͦ̋͑͐ ̜̝͍s͓̬̈́̈́́̑̑o̜̣͇̲͔̦͖ͫ̏̊̈́,̩ͥ ͖͛W̥̘̳̯̟̄e̠̲̰̞̥̔ͅ ̝͎̬̪̜͗̍̑ͩ͑̚ä̘̩͎͖́ͮͅͅb̤ͤ͛͆̓̿͂id̫͔͇̱̜̅ͪ̉ͅͅȇ͈̲̬̗̦ͮ.̩̗͎̼͋́.͕̠̟̃̐



STRENGTH FADING, A BLACKENED WORLD BLACKENS STILL.
THE ARM FALLS. THE CRY FADES. BUT THERE, OVERHEAD—


LO! WHAT SPARK NOW BURNS ABOVE?


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For a day, the doors of the temple would be barred. Thereafter, they are opened again.

"Maintenance."

No further explanation is given.

_________________
Image
You think Magic is your ally... but you merely adopted the Art. He was born in it. Molded by it.
Sometimes, an angel is simply a devil with better intentions.


 
      
Dark Immolation
 
PostPosted: Thu, Jan 18 2018, 5:34 AM 

User avatar

Tester

Joined: 20 Apr 2008
Location: The downeaster "Alexa"

By word of mouth, it is spread that a gathering at the newly reclaimed temple is to take place in a few days. For what and for whom, it is not yet known.

//~7PM EST, Friday the 19th

_________________
Image
You think Magic is your ally... but you merely adopted the Art. He was born in it. Molded by it.
Sometimes, an angel is simply a devil with better intentions.


 
      
Dark Immolation
 
PostPosted: Sat, Jan 20 2018, 4:30 AM 

User avatar

Tester

Joined: 20 Apr 2008
Location: The downeaster "Alexa"



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FROM THE DARKNESS, THREE STEP FORWARD.

FROM THE DARKNESS, THREE ARE BLESSED.

VERINA, THE FIRST
ARTO, THE SECOND
PAURIS, THE THIRD

A MESSAGE DECREED, A PATH CHARTED.

FROM THE DEPTHS, AN ENCLAVE STIRS
AND CASTS ITS GAZE SKYWARD.

_________________
Image
You think Magic is your ally... but you merely adopted the Art. He was born in it. Molded by it.
Sometimes, an angel is simply a devil with better intentions.


 
      
Dark Immolation
 
PostPosted: Tue, May 22 2018, 5:10 AM 

User avatar

Tester

Joined: 20 Apr 2008
Location: The downeaster "Alexa"

Image


In the dead of night, as oft he did, a man sat in a quiet and darkened sanctum. Counting the moments between one fevered vision and the next, he gazed into an orb of scrying.

The crescent moon above, freshly born from the blackened new moon, hung overhead in a silence that mirrored the calm below.

Until, like a bolt thrown from the heavens, something caught the eye of the watcher. Real or imagined, it fixated him. Staring warily into the aether, he rose and inched closer til at last he came face to face with his own distorted visage on the sphere's surface. What he saw there none might say, for there was no one to tell and no one to listen. In an instant, Elohim, the ardent blade bound to his own body, flew up to his chest, primed to pierce his heart as it did so many years ago. He stayed so, standing and unblinking into the wee hours of the morning.

The next day passes as any other would. The sun rises, though its rays barely pierce the enclave's shroud of shadows. Workers set about their routes. Priests enter into their respective houses of worship and calls to prayer ride on the salt-laden sea winds. Those that might patronize the newly established sanctum would find the seat at its head empty. Though this is nothing out of the normal. Surely, he who sat there could not always be there and had other matters to attend to. The hours pass, and so too the businesses of all as usual into a new night.

A second day follows the suite of the first.

Then a third.

Then, eventually, a tenday and more.

Messages go unanswered. As do efforts of Sending. Scrying, if not outright rebuffed, seems to miss its target or fail completely. Though there are many ways to explain such things, it might seem strange that one would go to such lengths so quickly and so thoroughly when they departed seemingly under no duress and without clear destination. But departed he has. The enclave, the Isle, maybe even these Realms, for what time and what purpose none are told. Perhaps he has met with grim death or some worse end somewhere along his sudden fugue. That scenario could create as many questions as it would answer, however. Eventually, a handful of messages make their way to but a few individuals, whenever and if ever they use the storage facilities. And even then, the words are as cryptic and brief as the disappearance itself.

Ultimately, it appears that he has left Tarkuul as he had found it: belonging to the dead, owing much to the living, and in mystery, now, as ever it had been.




Image

_________________
Image
You think Magic is your ally... but you merely adopted the Art. He was born in it. Molded by it.
Sometimes, an angel is simply a devil with better intentions.


 
      
Dunecat
 
PostPosted: Sat, May 26 2018, 19:55 PM 

User avatar

Player

Joined: 18 Aug 2012
Location: +3 GMT

And once again, the lights were lit; the traveller resumed his vigil.

_________________
Image

Mistakes were made.


 
      
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