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

*A winged dark robed figure can be seen in the library everyday with a tome opened before him on desk. Standing next to him with a watchful eye is a large Aoskian Hound with jet black hair, seeming to guard over the man. He spends most of the day studying away, jotting down notes in a weathered journal.

Those who approach him would notice his eyes, glowing in an eerie red flame from underneath the shadow of his hood. As well as his hooves protruding from the bottom of his long flowing robe. If he should be approached the man snaps the journal shut to regard onlooker. The hound would simply watch the person intently until they leave.*

Enforcer Gerald Edmund is so very easy to recognize in his well maintained plate mail armor, and he is often found on sentry duty somewhere within the Living City, now frequently posted in the Court of the Living.

But recently... His habits during the off hours where he isn't on patrol, searching for artifacts, or standing guard are decidedly different. Normally taken by copious amount of alcohol, the enforcer was often far more surly and reserved. But recently, he spends long periods of time in his quarters alone, doing who knows what. But there are no obvious sounds coming from his door.

In fact, there is a distinct lack of sound. But whatever the occurrence, it seems to have put Gerald into a better mood than usual. One might consider him sociable, for lack of a better word.

The regal figure of an ebony skinned Drow nods to the Greater Shadow whom stands near the portal binding point in Tarkuul. There is a moment of quiet as she stands perfectly still as if allowing her presence to permeate the area. She draws up her arms and the power of her Goddess spills from her in a blessing as she chants the divine spell.

Then she speaks, her tone pleasant her voice carrying the power due to one of her rank.

"Voice of The Living City..." Her tone is respectful and there is a short pause allowing the sound to dissipate before she continues. "...I am Honored High Arch Priestess, The Voice of Lolth visiting your domain."

"I was impressed with the former Speaker and the former Headmistress Irae'arra. Their courtesy and respect put you in high regard with my Queens own. We had an alliance that began in Ultrinnan that I considered still in effect. We traded goods and knowledge and we prospered."

Another pause and her expression turns grim. "That is why is saddens me greatly that your representative calling himself Speaker has been so discourteous and blatantly disrespectful of not only myself - but my Glorious Queen Herself - that I have no other choice than to stop all negotiations for any trade with your wondrous Living City."

"As a courtesy to you, The Voice of The Living City, I came to see about a matter whereby this Speaker was caught in a lie to us and to allow him to rectify his former lack of courtesy toward myself. Due to his prideful and selfish nature your new Speaker failed to explain to my satisfaction or rectify his lack of courtesy towards myself...and at which point he deemed it necessary to tell me that my Mighty Lolth was...nothing."

"Thereby making it impossible for me to entertain continued negotiations. I will honor my agreement to meet with the former Headmistress Irae'arra. Yet it will be up to those that patrol the caverns as to whether or not they give Tarkuulens a free pass to wander in the Underdark. As it stands I can not guarantee their safety."

She pauses again thoughtfully and there is a hint of true disappointment her tone. "And I am disappointed that my gift to The Voice of The Living City remains...ungiven."

She gives a polite nod to the area as if it should be for The Voice of The Living City. Then takes out a portal wand and vanishes in the portal effect.

A man standing in plate armor, wearing a black and gray tabard, and a cloak of rank marking him as an Enforcer of the Living Guard watches the event... And frowns for a moment beneath his well maintained steel visage.

At the end of his shift, makes his way to the Speaker's office and leaves a note recounting the event.

A common sight these days in Tarkuul is a figure in dark, hooded robe, tending the idol of Velsharoon or kneeling in silence in front of it. The very same person is also noted by locals in the library, searching for tomes and books to study. He seems very reserved, and does not speak, unless spoken to first. And even then the conversation is brief and factual.

Emilie can now be seen around Tarkuul with a newfound air of confidence around her. The bard goes about the City, now placing her painting and lyrical canvases on display in the Castle proudly. She watches the now busy halls with a sense of esteem, once more seen creating her art, and playing her songs.

Marigath could be seen roaming the halls of the castle and undercroft, muttering to himself bitterly. Snippets of words heard could be pieced together, giving the listener the impression that he's none too pleased about being "told how to cook" by someone who "thinks cooking is alchemy."

He does however seem to go about his work, in his usual dour manner.

Gerald can be seen in the library pouring studiously through a variety of books. He seems to be researching something, and he's determined to find it.

Ah, back in Tarkuul at last, the challenge, the opportunity, the lack of restriction. Truly a merchant's dream. Derium could be seen chatting about, casually bringing the conversations toward trade. What did they want? What was hot, what was not? What's in demand? How much could he foreseeably charge for such a thing?, Could they craft? Could they use a company and access to potential buyers?

Shadows would follow to and fro, delivering word and fading, as a dance, a parade, one of working trade in action.

A sight to be hold, one of the friendliest necromancers around.

He swirls a magical potion bottle, forged liquids weaved by the works of his own hand, and he drinks declaring the phrase;

"Ah, perception."

The dulcet sounds of the Drow language traveled around the portal entry room. There was a lovely large woven rug, a table, a wooden chair, a lovely spider chair with a large candle nearby and an ornate wooden throne placed for conversation or maybe comfort near the portal binding point.

A male drow in gold and black was seated in the throne, the evidence of his recent adventure into the Ilithids still apparent upon his armor. To his left upon the lovely spider chair lounged another drow male in what might have been knightly armor although it might be hard to tell under the bits of umberhulk and splashes of drow blood. He had his legs outstretched, a helm had kept his silky locks of white hair clean. His features were masculine and handsome in a scoundrel kind of way.

It had been awhile since these particular drow males had visited Tarkuul. Before making themselves at home they had visited Havoc with a few items to sell.

After a conversation with a female who sported an interesting tail and an lovely ebony skinned drowess they went on their way.

After a fruitless and irritating talk with Lucius Blackwater, Holo walks around restlessly in his chamber, not able to focus on the work in front of him. Was Lucius right? Is all his training meaningless? Was Palemastery the path he should take? But he'd lose half his customers at least if he plugged his eye out and cut his arm off!

Feeling frustrated, he closes the books on grafting, carefully stores his alchemical supplies in a chest and leaves Tarkuul ... Only to return a day later, mentioning an exciting project in Ostland.

A slight female human figure may occasionally be seen around Tarkuul. She is dressed in somewhat archaic-styled and distinctly monochromatic robes - all greys and some blacks in the design, with no actual colour save for a ribbon of subdued purple worked into the design at the front. She might be known to a few by virtue of her style of dress, but she keeps her face veiled with a hood. She spends long hours in the library poring over texts and making notes in her own books, keeping almost entirely to herself... she doesn't go out of her way to avoid others, but she seems never to initiate social contact and should it be thrust upon her, she usually appears either distracted or uncomfortable.

The woman is greeted by Irae, with the same gently polite tone she uses with everyone. While Irae doesn't pry, she makes it known that she welcomes any questions or problems, and is eager to assist any of the City.

On occasion a figure moves through the city, armored in Scale Mail and always helmed, here colors and symbolism clearly mark her as a follower of Tiamat. She occasionally makes polite conversation with locals, her voice distorted by her helm and with a Draconic or perhaps Untheric accent, visit's the shops or reads books in the library. Over several different conversations she readily mentions she is the Daughter of Drak'law Emberblaze the infamous once king of Wyrmhold. The only name she gives to call herself is Ember. For any questioning her bloodline she is equaly quick to produce a Signet ring baring Drak'law's Personal Arcane Mark and the Emberblaze heraldry symbol; A Red Dragon lunging skyward from a pool of flames.

More so than normal, the weather has seemed a bit dismal over the past week in Tarkuul. While no one really seemed to be bothered at first, accustomed to the light squalls now and then, a hazard of living in a city floating in the middle of the ocean... the near constant drizzle starts to take its toll on peoples' nerves here and there.

Even some of the most dour arcanists begin to mutter unappreciative at a rain-soaked parchment here, or the extra slickness of a femur there, disrupting their usually rote experiments.

The undead, of course, don't seem to mind. They never do, do they?

The tiefling known as Terry Naygyrn can often be seen frequenting the library during his off-duty time. After selecting numerous books, each time he would retreat to the library's least occupied corner and spend hours there reading. Mainly, it seems that books concerning the Nine Hells and its inhabitants have caught the tief's curiosity.

What were moderately thick and puffy rainclouds have gradually begun shaping themselves into thicker, angrier looking stormclouds. The drizzle has been replaced by near-constant rain and even the wind begins to pick up now and then, gusting and churning the seas just a bit more than normal.

After a lengthy and unexplained absence, it appears Lieutenant Vosst has returned; his slender and darkly-dressed figure would have been seen in the company of some guardsmen and one of the denizens in the Castle, looking rather worse for wear; the nature of his injuries are well-concealed, though clearly quite severe. He departs briefly, only to return a short time later to rest in the Living Quarters. After meeting with some other denizens he departs once again, and does not return for a number of hours.

The woman who called herself Ember took careful note of the gather clouds and rain, she had been told as a child to wary of many things. While the logical reasonable part of her mind told her it was just rain, another part couldn't help but tell her that her visits here might soon be cut short by some manner of disaster or another.

More often than not Captain Sicarius can be either seen working at the Court of the Living or secluded in the Guard office, evidently occupied by administrative work. When he is not doing either, the half-elf often drifts around the City in an aimless fashion.

Two lone skeletons begin slowly but surely putting together a small holding pen made of simple wood planks. It’s only a few feet high, three or four at the most, and doesn’t seem like it would withstand a solid blow from something, more just a container of sorts. It rests next to the building right across from the Tower of the Damned and for the moment at least, it remains empty.

Those accustomed to Luca's usual predilections might be surprised to find him scouring the library between his chores, staking out an armchair and skimming through hearty piles of tomes that he's gathered. A glass of scotch and a small leather-bound journal are his companions as he takes his notes.

Although still seen on sentry duty every now and again, it seems Vosst has been rather busy in Tarkuul - too much to indulge in that particular duty for long, at least. Hours are spent meeting with various Guardsmen and other denizens, as well as working on a truly terrifying amount of paperwork, as well as several hurried trips out of the city. But sometimes, during the quieter hours, he might be observed in the lounge of the Living Quarters... just sitting, watching the fire, for hours at a time.

The storm over Tarkuul has intensified to the point of causing even more of a preternatural darkness than usual, blocking out nearly all traces of sunlight. Lightning splits the sky on a steady basis, casting the rough-hewn angles of the city in an eerie light. The wind tosses the seas enough to see some of the waves rolling up over the edge of the city here and there, pools of water beginning to form around some of the outer edges in particularly low points along the city.

Whatever the source of the storm, and whatever its purpose... it seems to be nearing its crescendo.

At the beginning of her day, the woman called "Phrixus" can be seen sitting a chair beside the Trading Hall sign in the castle of Tarkuul. She'd lounge back in her chair after putting her valuable wares in the locked case upstairs for display. She'd motion to anyone who walks past to tell them of the wares that are on sale, and perhaps cutting a few deals. In truth, however, she spends most the time looking over a worn prayer book with a large "P" on the binding.

At the end of her day, Phrixus can be seen moving a bunch of packages from the trading hall to a room in the Living Quarters. If one was to knock on the door to perhaps inquire what she was doing, it would be answered by dead silence. If one was to open the door to the room, there is not a trace of the woman around. The remains from a portal might lay open for one to follow, however, if you're lucky.

It's definitely obvious she's not been staying in the Rising City, and the wares are with her wherever she might be.

The small armoured pest, going by the name of Evermourn would be seen within the library of late when not on her bizzare interpretation of guard duty or watching others at the dig site. The subject of her interest would lie solely within the matter of fey and some of the more common books within the library, which she would rather fervently search though.

Finally (rather quickly, in actual fact) getting bored of this arduous task, she then goes to seek out members of the magesterium for some matter.

The man in the dark grey suit, now becoming a more regular presence in Tarkuul arrives via portal. He twists his neck, and with two solid cracks he sighs relieved and looks behind to see eight paintings, lined in a row. He takes time to observe them, at least the hour before he gets a rather bored expression.

"How melodramatic" He remarks dryly. "This makes the blackguard and necromancer look happier in comparison.." He cracks a smile as he speaks to no one in particular. He then makes his way upstairs and sits in front of the fire place, with a book in hand.

After what could be described as a titanic clash between the City's defenders and a creature out of myth, the return of the ship husk to the depths of the sea, and no small amount of sacrifice of personal wealth, the storm about the City finally seems to dissipate.

Which of the day's events however were ultimately responsible for this reprieve from the wrath of the storm, is perhaps a matter up for debate.

A newcomer is seen walking the city, stopping often in the library and the Temple of Velsharoon. He is human, but his face is usually hooded in black robes bearing Velsharoon's symbol. While happy to give his name in person, on any documentation he signs as 'Edmund of Thesk'.

A short-ish, thin man in dark leathers can be seen moving about the city time and then. He tends to keep to himself however, and shows little interest in the magical going ons. He does occasionally walk around Court of the Living as well.

Lieutenant Vosst has remained his usual busy self - in fact, perhaps moreso than earlier. Though inscrutable as always, he does seem to show some faint (and occasionally rather overt) signs of stress; he moves about as if in quite a hurry even when he is not, he speaks tersely to guests, and spends more time than usual attempting to relax into some manner of meditative state, in the spare moments that he can find.

In recent days some might notice that Sicarius has been quite busy with a variety of things. One time the half-elf could be spotted in the library, spending hours looking through various books. A few other days, one could see the half-elf going over every part of the city, making notes and scrawlings on various sheets of paper. The Captain spends hours in the Guard office, leaving occasionally to roam the City or to take excursions out of it.

On a whole, it seems there were quite a few things on the Captain's mind.

After having a word with a pirate ferryman outside the Temple of the Vaunted, both the
Headmaster and the pirate were not seen in Tarkuul for more than a day. Where they
might have vanished remains a mystery..

'Edmund' is seen in the library at all hours, scribbling notes from a collection of journals.
Today his robe is bloodied and he winces when he moves his arm, but seems to be ignoring it in his efforts to find the next book.

Last edited by Dead on Fri, Sep 07 2012, 3:43 AM, edited 1 time in total.

Upon his arrival, the Headmaster returned to his usual routine,
spending countless hours in the library.

Along with the return of the Headmaster, the Necromaster, Mathan Wayne, returned.
Shortly after, he headed into the temple of Velsharoon, and rarely is seen out of it.

Zacharion has not visited Tarkuul for over a year. While waiting for the boat to arrive at shoar he wonders if the library will be in such good shape as it was and if the books he studied all those nights would still be there. A soft grin appears as he realises there is only one way to determine that. He needs to visist the library as soon as he arrives.

An odd sight has appeared within Tarkuul. A raven with reddish wing-tips can often be found perched on a wall or building within the City, watching passersby with a keen gaze. It seems to care little if approached, moving only if meddled with but otherwise content simply to watch. On a (seemingly) unrelated note, an elven looking woman can be seen moving through the City regularly, though never while the bird is around. To long-term residents, she might be recognizable as Kaye Elesia. Evidently, she has finally returned.

Deep in the vast library, in a shadow of the bookshelf, one of the students woke up. An alchemical tome on the chest, pipe - long since empty; he cursed himself and awfully cooled hippocras, and headed outside.

It had been a strange few days for Lieutenant Vosst; after a flurry of activity, his appearances became slightly more sporadic. On one of these strange days, certain denizens might have (assuming that they were bored enough to care) taken note of his raised voice emanating from the Guard office, for several hours of what one might assume to be a heated argument. Others may have heard, only scant hours later, that same voice raised behind a different set of closed doors.

The following day apparently resulted in a small amount of confusion when it seemed the Lieutenant had difficulty speaking, although a quick trip out of the city seemed to rectify that. And so the rather odd crisis was averted.

Any regular visitor to the Living City would probably note the young resident artist has been quite busy flitting around the City lately. More paintings are showing up in the Castle hall, she is seen going about with her note book making sketches, and occasionally going up to the various mages and undead with a tape measure in hand.

Though, more and more, she seems to vanish from the City without warning, disappearing for hours on end.

Quite out of the blue, the Ferryman in Tarkuul seems to have packed his belongings (mostly just his parrot), hopped in his boat and sailed away.

Pinned to one of the crates next to his customary place is a short note.

I wanna thank ye fine folk fer finally coughing up enough gold fer me retirement!
That last gig navigatin' for those necromancer types earned me a kings ransom and I'm off te the
mainland and them fine noble-like ladies. Or maybe jus' as far as Mintarn, who knows?!

I've packed up me prized parrot Poly-morph and I bid ye lot a due... or whatever that silly noble
sayin' be. I'm off te get me some "booty" with me booty! Har har!

X

*-*-*-*-*

Elsewhere in the City, in Jerto's shop, a notice is posted by the mage, tacked to one of the pillars just inside the Tower.

Thanks to the efforts of all of those who have turned in the relics they've
recovered from the Court of the Living so far, I've managed to duplicate a few of the more in-tact
items on the City's behalf.

These relics of the Netheril Empire do not have the power they once had a millennium or two ago,
but may prove useful to some of you. Please inquire at my shop. Given the "odds and ends" nature
of these artifacts, I've placed them in the display box reserved for Miscellaneous items.

In service to the City,
Jerto Fryar

The Sergeant can be seen reading an incantation off of a scroll and transforming into an Umberhulk! He's interrupted briefly for a rather one sided conversation with someone calling himself "Dai" before he gets to work tossing rubble and other trash over the side of the city and into the ocean!

It would seem that the Sergeant is busy today with his duties in the courtyard. And after that, he's seen making his way toward the Court of the Living with a shovel!

//Screen shoots below for viewing pleasure!

It beings!
The first boulder tossed!
The filth corner!
Dirt dumping!
The big one!
The big one II: Revenge of the not so big ones!
And even the creepy obscure filth corner no one ever uses!

Mathus is seen more often doing the rounds and guarding, moving quickly from place to place. In between circuits, he put the rest of his attention into assisting efforts to clear the main city streets of rock and debris.

Prophet is often found wandering around, reading a few books here and there, and sometimes he is seen having one way conversations with a skeleton he often refers to as "Father". His behavior is otherwise deemed normal.

Meanwhile in the Temple of Velsharoon..

Grim has been spending more time in the city. When arriving he can often be seen brushing off snow from his clothing. If not found by a fireplace with his hands on a book the temple seems to interest him to spend more time in it.

The lady most commonly known as Phrixus isn't seen much around these days.

If those do see her, or bother to greet her, it's apparent her body is becoming much more sculpted and built. One might think she's been spending a great deal out in the field, but if to examine her waistline carefully, two whips would be wound around her waist in a braided belt. If those who know of her privileged faith, they might understand the change of the constant scowl that's turned into a twisted smile. For those who don't, she might look a bit more morbid then usual.

~~~Meanwhile~~~

The Onyx's wares seem rather light in the display cases in Tarkuul. The cases still stay locked, and a list of the current inventory is available if one was to stop by. However, a small note is added that the current seller of the Onyx will be out for awhile, and if they've any questions to send a sending or leave missive in the box dedicating to the Onyx.

*an addition to above, quite some time later*

All the wares of the Onyx have been removed, as well as postings and ledgers that were of the trading companies. The woman know of Phrixus can be seen carrying a large bag over her shoulder as she ports out of the city, not to return.

PhantomDream wrote:

*an addition to above, quite some time later*

All the wares of the Onyx have been removed, as well as postings and ledgers that were of the trading companies. The woman know of Phrixus can be seen carrying a large bag over her shoulder as she ports out of the city, not to return.

"How, unfortunate such could not be salvaged, i had thought her assistance in trade would be invaluable, perhaps i was wrong"

A Breath in the Silence: "Life" in Tarkuul

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