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Death Masque
 
PostPosted: Tue, Oct 09 2012, 19:24 PM 

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Joined: 05 Jul 2012

Today, Kemnon could be seen shuffling about with its usual animated-corpse-like countenance, patroling the Court of the Living, attending to offerings at the organic 'shrine' of the Bitch Queen, and investigating matters at the archaeological site overseen by Mathus. In the middle of the day, it maneuvers through the support beams of one of the scaffolding towers, and ascends the ladders.

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It remains there for some time, occasionally referring to some text.

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. . . beyond the veil of death . . .


 
      
CouncilofAutumn
 
PostPosted: Thu, Oct 11 2012, 14:39 PM 

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Joined: 11 Dec 2010

The archaeologist's pace did not slow, the sounds of his work ringing out clearly from all corners of the Court.

Outside of the dig site, however, his even sporadic appearances trickled down to nothing; the man either working on the dig site or leaving entirely, sparing no time to commune with other Living Guard or citizens/visitors of the Living City, or to do any guard work himself.

If pressed, the confesses that his interest in Tarkuul will likely die out as the need for his archaeological work does, since he has little to offer elsewhere.

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Mathus, Void Apostle of the New Moon


 
      
CouncilofAutumn
 
PostPosted: Tue, Oct 23 2012, 15:25 PM 

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Following a handful of disagreements with Vosst and the Speaker, Mathus returns to work on the Court of the Living, and now spends his time either sleeping in a tent nearby or focusing his attention on the front of the structure.

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Glim
 
PostPosted: Tue, Oct 23 2012, 18:42 PM 

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Joined: 13 Jul 2010
Location: British Columbia

And indeed the aesthetic would have made considerable progress so far. While there are still a few bits of stone around the "wings" of the building, the sediment and stone in-front of the entrance to the structure is nearly cleared away.

So very close now...


 
      
CouncilofAutumn
 
PostPosted: Wed, Nov 07 2012, 0:22 AM 

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Joined: 11 Dec 2010

Seating his adamantine kamas in his belt with raw and sore hands that shook gently against the leather, the archaeologist took a few moments to view the makeup and stature of the doors before him. A few moments later, he stepped inside, followed by Kemnon, Lucius and Sicarius. After an hour or so, the ascetic left alone, his cloak of rank unclasped and draped over one arm, his feet carrying him surely toward the city's exit.

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Mathus, Void Apostle of the New Moon


 
      
DolphinRacer
 
PostPosted: Wed, Nov 07 2012, 13:01 PM 

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Joined: 01 May 2009
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The Living Guardsman known as Lacern seems to have appropriated a small corner of the Court for his own purposes, spending a great deal of time with various drawings and papers laid out across a rickety old table, scribbling and measuring and muttering to himself.

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Glim
 
PostPosted: Tue, Jan 08 2013, 7:15 AM 

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Joined: 13 Jul 2010
Location: British Columbia

In the southern "crook" of the easternmost building in the Court of the Living, a few undead begin to mill about, constructing a sort of tent or pavilion from various furs in that corner between the main building and its southern wing.


 
      
Dead
 
PostPosted: Tue, Jan 08 2013, 23:15 PM 

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Joined: 26 Apr 2009
Location: Tarkuul

Though rarely seen outside his office in the past tenday, the Headmaster made a trip to the Court of the
Living and tilted his head, overseeing the new construction for a few minutes before returning to the
Tower of the Damned.

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Glim
 
PostPosted: Thu, Jan 10 2013, 21:51 PM 

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Joined: 13 Jul 2010
Location: British Columbia

Several rough outlines of buildings have begun to show in various spaces around the Court, nothing too solid yet but clearly some further building is planned and beginning to see some small progress.

The tent that was being constructed near the easternmost building is completed in short order, and the Bone Golem that had been standing near the entrance to the building, now moves to guard the tent instead.

For finally, the last of the solidified rock and sand around the easternmost building is chipped away, the undead laborers that had been doggedly chipping away at it bit-by-bit carrying their tools over to the next project without a moment's hesitation, ambling off to their next destination.

A strange looking device has been gradually constructed by one of the Guardsmen at the northern point of the Court, which seems to be some sort of customized siege weaponry. Metal crossbars are set to swivel on a circular metal stand, supporting the device and seeming to allow it to rotate quite well if needed. The design is complex and would likely require an engineer to understand fully.

And on the roof of the south-west building in the court, scaffolding can be seen rising from the upper level and through the roof, the formation of what might be a smaller, third story beginning to show in the stonework.


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Thu, Jan 24 2013, 20:49 PM 

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Location: British Columbia

Activity begins rather suddenly after the noon hour about the southern building in the Court, as the grim-faced contingent of Shadovar set to their task with militant efficiency; and their task seems to be restoration. With the aid of what must be some form of enchantment, they eschew the usual scaffolding that would be required and simply walk up the vertical surfaces as required, akin to spiders or worker-ants perhaps.

They begin by chipping off any jagged edges of stone or granite that is too damaged or brittle to reuse, clearing the way for new blocks and mortar to come into place in the coming days. Though the work is extensive, they seem to have an intimate familiarity with the design of the structure, and the seven Shadovar that are present have the exterior of the building polished and ready for new material before the dawn (such as it is in Tarkuul).


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Tue, Jan 29 2013, 20:25 PM 

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Joined: 13 Jul 2010
Location: British Columbia

A great deal of hammering, chiseling, sawing and other sounds of construction can be heard from within the souther building in the court, practically at all hours of the day. Construction materials are periodically brought in by the Shadovar residents.


 
      
Dead
 
PostPosted: Wed, Jan 30 2013, 7:36 AM 

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Joined: 26 Apr 2009
Location: Tarkuul

In spite of the horrible storm and maelstrom that raged around the city last night, stood the High
Arcanist, assisted by a small, yet devoted and brave group of guests, citizens and officials..


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Glim
 
PostPosted: Mon, Feb 04 2013, 9:18 AM 

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As what would seem to be the last of the materials needed, are brought into the southern building, the sounds of construction stretch well on through the night and into the following morning. It would seem whoever is building inside is intent on finishing, and soon.


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Fri, Feb 08 2013, 20:28 PM 

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With the completion of the renovations to the souther building in the Court, any passersby are met with a subtly imposing and dark building. From the outside it is unclear what this building might hold, but with the doors now open, anyone venturing within would find it's purpose quite clear.


 
      
Bini
 
PostPosted: Mon, Feb 11 2013, 23:45 PM 

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Joined: 26 Mar 2011

Within the southern building in the Court of the Living, a plumb line only recently taken down is put back up in a dark corner where it might be observed.

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feel the blood gushing from your anus
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feel the blood gushing from your anus


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Tue, Feb 19 2013, 20:44 PM 

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Joined: 13 Jul 2010
Location: British Columbia

Recent work by a rather large party of drow, accompanied by the usual undead work crews, has seen a significant amount of work done on a few of the new housing units in the Court, the first of which nears completion.


 
      
Bini
 
PostPosted: Tue, Feb 26 2013, 8:22 AM 

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Within the south-eastern corner of the Court of the Living, just beside the stonemason's workbench as any savvy individual might expect, blocks of quarried granite are arranged in five neat rows of three and two rows of four. The greyish stones are fairly large, being as broad as an average man's shoulders and standing to a height just above a man's knee; surely nothing to scoff at or trip over. To those that would pay them a closer mind, all one score and three are marked off in pale chalk to a roughly trapezoidal shape, but it appears that whoever has left these quiet blocks has not yet started to chip away at them.

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feel the blood gushing from your anus


 
      
PolarBear
 
PostPosted: Tue, Apr 23 2013, 17:01 PM 

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Joined: 06 Feb 2012
Location: Maryland

"We'll never be finished at his pace.."

Brushing a gloved hand against his brow the Legate straightened a moment to glance over the interior structure that would one day become the arena upon its completion. Sweat continued to trickle down along his face and chest as he turned back to retrieve another massive stone, a grunt could be heard as he maneuvered it in his arms before turning to take it over for proper placement.

"Bring a few more.. easy with them."

The golem which tended to accompany the Legate followed shortly after with its own collection of massive stones, notably seeming to take care not to crush those he carried or those littering the grounds.

---

Hours would come and go and still the Legate and his golem worked tirelessly in assisting the undead in their construction. Retiring for only a few short hours to garner the sleep necessary to once again return to his work the Legate and the golem continued their pace with few words spoken aside from the few curses now and then when something went against planning.

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Glim
 
PostPosted: Sun, May 12 2013, 22:25 PM 

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Location: British Columbia

The nailing of a sign marks the completion of the newest building in the Court of the Living, a simple wooden sign with bright new paint depicting a kraken seeming to come alive off the wood. Indeed as you look more closely at the sign, a minor illusion seems to have been enchanted into the sign as the kraken takes on a phantasmal appearance and seems to shift and writhe as though it doesn't belong on a sign at all. The simple words below mark this building, just to the east of the temple, as the Ghostly Kraken Tavern.

Though the doors are not yet open to the public, a certain amount of anticipation begins to build among the living inhabitants of the City as kegs and crates of liquor are brought in. Marigath seems to oversee much of the intake and setup himself though he is joined by a new arrival to the city, an ogre of all things. Even though he possesses the typical oily black hair and blue-tinted skin of his race, this particular ogre seems to be rather stunted in size. Anyone listening to him converse with Marigath however would come to quickly realize that what the ogre lacks in stature, he makes up for in intelligence.

When the new watering hole will be opened is anyone's guess, though one of those two individuals may know.


 
      
Glim
 
PostPosted: Thu, May 16 2013, 7:11 AM 

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Progress is made on the rebuilding of the ruined Tower in the court, the first few levels beginning to take shape as the undead work tirelessly upon it.


 
      
Dead
 
PostPosted: Thu, May 16 2013, 13:28 PM 

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Joined: 26 Apr 2009
Location: Tarkuul

The High Arcanist seems to be taking a great interest in the Tower, visiting the working
force every once in a while and casting Negative Energy Burst upon them in order to
enhance their working capability.

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Dead
 
PostPosted: Sun, May 19 2013, 13:45 PM 

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Joined: 26 Apr 2009
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The High Arcanist was seen bringing a large quantities of building materials to the Court of the Living,
unloading them from his own stash to the city's funds, leaving a short message that would read
'TOWER OF THE FORSAKEN SUPPLIES'

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Dead
 
PostPosted: Wed, Jun 19 2013, 22:55 PM 

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Joined: 26 Apr 2009
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Several diamonds were dropped into the
Tarkuul's funds by the High Arcanist.

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Lord-Hadeis
 
PostPosted: Fri, Aug 30 2013, 21:13 PM 

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Joined: 02 Feb 2009
Location: Netherlands, Schoonhoven

Walking down the streets of Tarkuul is a figure dressed in flamboyant clothing of snow whites and ice blues, his main devotion clear to all by sight of the lozenge encompassed ice crystal. A handsome face of grey complexion frames by ram horns and ice blue hair, to show without doubt to none, that Toag has arrived. Back since long years to the city living where the stones have not forgot.

He makes his way whistling his odd tunes towards the shrine of Umberlee. Haven gotten to the work capturing kraken and the Bitch of the seas in carved stone and gems cut with skill. He holds still a moment in front of the shrine before slowly entering between the arms and taking a knee to the mistress of seas. He then comes to stand erect once more, carefully placing a easel and taking out his tools. For a work is on his mind, one of art, one of paint and canvas of pigments and oils. Colours subtle and shocking bright made with patience, skill and care, from minerals near and far, common pigments and the exotic.

As he starts to paint he also starts to sing, working fast at first as he puts down a background of the darkest of his blues, his greens, browns and strokes of brighter colours more unexpected. He works with wide brushes and palette knifes applying the layer with swiftness yet care, thicker in some places to create underlying texture for the finer work to come as his song resounds over the waters and the local area of the city itself.

'Torrents coming from below, take the essence of his soul. Challengers circle him from all around, sharp tooth demons from the depths. The battle fought and nothing gained. Feel the shock and feel the pain. Waters swirling round and round, no feet left to touch the ground.'

'Red waters from bloody stumps, praying loudly till his tongue is numb! Darkness growing in his soul, true damnation no control. Shattered pieces of his past, broken dreams among the depths. When the waters calm, arise he shall no more. For to her his soul is sworn. Grinning laughing dancing with the sharks, his soul to the Bitch in waters dark!'

Having finished the background layer he starts to work with infinite care as he keeps singing the song on and on, his eyes madly intense upon the work, grinning and laughing between the lines. The song closely matched to the lapping waves that company him as they sing their simple strong song against the stones of Tarkuul.

On the canvas greens start to mingle with blues, shades of black and shades of brown appear and of yellow, whites like ivory. His fingers twist the brushes over the work as the chaotic looking swirling sea of colours starts to give shape to the body of a women, mighty, horrible and lovely to his eyes. Her hair of kelp and arms with fins presiding above and in the churning waves.

He works without pause or rest weaving his song together with the paints, a holy work of a mistress of fury though not his own. The figure becomes gradually clearer as her hair falls down to become the sea, that she holds encompassed between her fish fin arms. Her body clad with shells and eyes of ivory set above a grinning mouth, that grins at ships below struggling and failing in her beautiful storm.

After many hours of feverish work, as fast as his fingers and his skill allow. Without a single pause without a moment without song the final touches at last come. Shades are made deeper, highlights brighter, all the hues more subtly blended. Every last part worked over and over again till all becomes perfect and the final strokes are set. Then the song repeats no more and the brush makes its final strokes. The letters T and F in bright ice blue set in between swirls under the mad laughter of their owner.

Satisfied he looks at his work before carefully packing it in pure white linen, careful to pack it so that linen doesn't touch paint on canvas, so that the gift will find its home intact. And so with one more burst of laughter he takes the painting to hand and makes his way back through the streets of Tarkuul and out again.


 
      
Dead
 
PostPosted: Mon, Nov 25 2013, 17:11 PM 

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From a general direction of the Moorhound compound, a sound of hammer hitting the stone
could be heard. Those curious enough who would approach to inspect the source of this noise
would find the High Arcanist carving something out of black marble.


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Dead
 
PostPosted: Thu, Nov 28 2013, 18:42 PM 

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Dead
 
PostPosted: Wed, Dec 18 2013, 10:54 AM 

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That night a masterpiece was born. After almost two months of work, the towering figure of the Lord
of the Ninth was casting an intimidating shadow over the Court of the Living. The statue, standing
around twelve feet in height, carved out of a single black marble boulder, was quite a sight to
behold. Though it was generally featureless, those well versed in the ken of the Lower Planes
would immediately recognize the imposing qualities of the Supreme.

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AzureLuna
 
PostPosted: Wed, Dec 18 2013, 18:34 PM 

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Joined: 26 Jul 2010

In the middle of the night, a pink ribbon appears on the statue, wrapped around one of the horns and tied off with a pretty bow. There is no sign or inkling of who left it or why. No other vandalism or damage is done.

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bobofwestoregonusa
 
PostPosted: Wed, Dec 18 2013, 20:52 PM 

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Joined: 09 Jun 2012
Location: Eastern Washington

The bow is removed by an irritated High Captain and taken off to places unknown for whatever nefarious purpose one could have for a bow. One could only assume that the bow was interrogated and tortured.

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Discord: Metal Viking Guy #5433

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NinjaClarinet
 
PostPosted: Wed, Dec 18 2013, 21:00 PM 



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Joined: 12 Jul 2010

The Castellan had an epic poker face upon encountering the ribboned archdevil on his rounds.


 
      
Anderson
 
PostPosted: Wed, Dec 18 2013, 21:55 PM 



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Joined: 29 Oct 2013

A red haired woman, clad in red and black plate could be see eying the cleared statue, smirking slightly.

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bobofwestoregonusa
 
PostPosted: Thu, Dec 19 2013, 1:15 AM 

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Joined: 09 Jun 2012
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If ribbons could scream, one would be sure that somewhere in the depths of Tarkuul one was screaming now, at the hands of the High Captain.

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Gerald Edmund
Discord: Metal Viking Guy #5433

DC taxation is theft!


 
      
KinginYellow
 
PostPosted: Mon, Feb 01 2016, 18:55 PM 

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Joined: 31 Jul 2013

In a dimly lit corner of the Court of the Living, stood an imposing figure of stone. It was carved out of black marble, standing tall at twelve feet in height. It detailed the features of a particular fiend, it was long, opulent and with giant horns, yet refined and inspiring. Few were the fiends that would ever fit this description, and anyone with a hunk of knowledge would immediately make the distinction. Before them, was the likelihood of Asmodeus, the Lord of the Ninth, the Prince of Nessus, the King of the Nine Hells, the Supreme.

Footsteps could be heard, the soft padding of leather on stone, as the figure of a man approached the fiend of marble. And he approached with reverence. He was known as Khran Varrak'bu, a Watcher of the Living Guard. Yet, today he wore not the clothes of a Guardsman, for today was a joyous occasion that deserved to be celebrated. With him, he carried several utensils. Flint and steel, nine candles, a waterskin, a brush, a small plate, and a small, sealed, reddened bag.

First, he kneeled before the statue, for it bore the visage of one to whom he had sworn an oath of servitude and was deserving of reverence. Following this, a moment of silence, as the man remained, submissive, under the gaze of stone, as if to imply he was not worthy of witnessing the very image before him. The silence persisted, almost eerie in nature, as if sound itself was being stiffled, for this marked the beginning of the ritual that was about to ensue.

The man lay the many utensils at the feet of the fiend, upon the bedroll and between the candles that had been left there, as he began to work. First, he picked up the brush, and dipped it into the contents of the waterskin. As he pulled it out, the brush was tinted crimson, as did the trail of sticky liquid that cling to it. With it, he began to draw upon the stone, a pentagram strewn with the blood of a goat.

Next, he reached for the bag. He undid the knot, and lay the contents on the small plate. Ground remains of the innards of a goat, perhaps the same that had been drained of its blood, and some herbs commonly used in the making of incense. Reaching into his common supplies, Khran dipped a bit of lamp oil on the remains, and proceeded to light them with the flint and steel. It started to create the stench of a carcass along with a deep smoke which slowly spread around the area.

Most of the preparations were complete, the stage set, the actor in place. But before his petition could be heard, the court of the Nine had to be assembled. Khran reached for the nine candles he had previously prepared, and lined them up from the existing two on the place of worship. Four on one side, four on another, and a final candle, larger than the other eight, at the very center.

With the plate of burning oil, the plate that incinerated the remains of a goat, he began to carefully light the candles. He started at the edges of each line, and moved up from there, one by one, switching from one line of candles to the next. "I call upon the Lord of the First, Warlord Bel, Duke of Avernus and Lord of the Bronze Citadel." The first candle was lit, the silence was cut with the cracking of flame. "I call upon the Second, Dispater, The Iron Duke who rules over Dis." The second candle was lit, and a cold shiver ran through his spine. "I call upon the Third. Mammon the Viscount, ruler of Minauros." The air grew still, an unnerving feeling spread through Khran, the names influenced the very air around them as they were uttered. The third candle was now set ablaze. "I call upon the Rulers of the Fourth, Fierna and Belial, lords of Abriymoch." Four now burned, five cast their gaze upon the supplicant. The air was heavier than before. "I call upon the Fifth. Prince Levistus, He Who Rules From The Frozen Throne." The cold feeling of dread was intensified, as if the very flames drew in the heat around them. "I call upon the sixth. Glasya, Daughter to the Supreme." The cold substained, yet the feeling of dread remained as strong as ever, continuing to grow with each name uttered. Six were now lit, seven were present. "I call upon the Seventh. Baalzebul, the Slug Archduke of Malagard." The stench of the goat carcass intensified, as if the burning, nearly incinerated ground intestines had suddenly been struck by rot and disease. The kind of smell that would make one's stomach turn in an instant. But Khran continued, as if the smell had been with him always. "I call upon the Eight. Mephistopheles, Archduke of Cania, Lord of Hellfire." The flames grew in size, the cracking of fire as well, and Khran remained a subservient supplicant, nine gazed upon his form, eight of the candles were lit. Finally, he reached for the last candle, the largest out of all of them, and struggled to light it. The air weighed him down, his senses dulled by the overbearing feeling of dread. The eight flames that beheld him appearing to shackle him to the cold stone. But Khran welcomed it, he held no misconceptions of his place, he was nothing more but a servant, one who when punished would thank his master for the opportunity. "I call upon the Lord of the Ninth, and Supreme Ruler of the Nine, Asmodeus." And the last candle grew brighter. Either having grown to surpass the other eight, or it's very presence forcing them to submit.

Khran slowly backed away, dragging his feet backwards until he stood on his knees in the middle of the pentagram. His mind was on edge, his body crushed under an invisible weight, as the ritual was now, and only now, underway. "I prostrate myself before the Court of Baator. A mere mortal, unfit to even be given the role of servant, but seeking to prove my worth." The words left a mouth that was dry. "I, who bear the brand of the King of the Nine, come before you to fulfill an oath that has been sealed in blood." He was on his knees like a dog, gazing upon the stone floor that his gaze not catch the flames he had lit. "I, who seek the growth of Nessus and the growth of Baator." Now, and only now, did his gaze turn up from the ground, to look at the flame at the center. "I ask of the Court for a boon. I ask of the King of the Nine to grant this figure of cold marble his touch. I ask for the chance to give tribute, and the chance to gather more followers who would pledge their life to thine rule." With weak legs, Khran began to struggle to get back on his feet, that he gaze upon the figure of marble itself. "I beg of thee, that my body be used as a vessel of thine power."

As if overtaken by a mad frenzy, Khran began to utter prayers spoken in the tongue of Baator, hellish conjurations, fiendish, heretical incantations made not to be spoken by the feeble and fragile forms of man. He reached towards the back of his sash for his Kama, he opened a gash on his arm, and allowed the blood to gather at his fingertips, he left a trail of crimson on the statue's front. A final litany, spoken in Infernal. "My life is yours alone, to be used and thrown away. Other's lives I shall make yours, both the willing and the deceived." The Blackguard's ritual was completed, and the statue was bestowed with a dark blessing. The smoke appeared to gather on his touch, focusing upon the form of the statue before fading away, and with it, the flames of both the plate of innards, and the nine candles.

In a dimly lit corner of the Court of the Living, stood an imposing figure of stone. It was carved out of black marble, standing tall at twelve feet in height. It detailed the features of a particular fiend, it was long, opulent and with giant horns, yet refined and inspiring. Few were the fiends that would ever fit this description, and anyone with a hunk of knowledge would immediately make the distinction. Before them, was the likelihood of Asmodeus, the Lord of the Ninth, the Prince of Nessus, the King of the Nine Hells, the Supreme. It stood imposing, eerie, dreadful and opressive, as if to stand before it were to stand before the very Lord of the Hells.


 
      
NeoInsanity
 
PostPosted: Thu, Sep 15 2016, 16:29 PM 

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Joined: 19 Jun 2015

The Kraken was bustling more than usual this morning, the tables were occupied by more shady figures as of late including a feather hatted man the bouncer could identify as Flynn. He seemed over joyed as he conversed with one particular person at his table before regaining his devilish composition.

The crowd at his table dispersed just a bit before noon, Flynn looked slightly disgruntled as he slunk his way to the shrine of the Bitch Queen.

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