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

Kylex notices this doctor settling in in Tarkuul. She would close her book and ask the doctor if he may need an assistant, indicating that she would be interested in such a position.

In the eternal silence of the library, the High Arcanist was on the knowledge hunt yet
again. It would appear, that this time he is running his skeletal fingers across the dusty
arcane scrolls and ancient grimoires, apparently seeking some rather particular spells.

One of the Centurions seems to have taken over a portion of the small arena. Around the same time each day, she may be seen hauling buckets of sand and covering the floor of the arena, upon which she stands dead center wearing a blindfold. Using a large brush the Centurion practices the drawing of a magical glyph in the sand. Always standing dead still, always blindfolded. Each time she fails in drawing it she smooths over the sand and starts again. Over and over.

Several times she would quit in sheer frustration, snapping the brush or blasting the sand away with a gust of wind spell. But as days go by the glyph comes out smoother and smoother. An unseen symbol of death.

From atop the height of the Tower of the Forsaken, a bent figure would - from time to time - watch the Centurion's progress...

In the late hours of the night when Gerald isn't busy either studying or leading his patrols in Cordor, he can be seen at the forge smelting a strange metal.

The peace of the Tower of the Forsaken was briefly interrupted today by the sounds
of chanting, coming from the Divination chamber.

Deep in the library of Tarkuul, the Necromaster paced past the dusty old rows, her fingers running gently across the ancient and withered spines. Eyes darting book to book examining them closely.

In her mind, she was set upon finding something of use. Continuing her search well into the night.

The stench of one thousand nightmares plagues
the nostrils of the citizens of Tarkuul yet again..

A darkly cloaked and cowled (yet easily recognizable) chaos mage wanders through the Living City in the dead of night. He slips past the milling residents and disappears into the bowels to peruse the library.

Ever-awaken eyes of the Librarian would meet him within..

"May I help you?"

In the Court of the Dead, the High Arcanist and the High Captain were performing some kind of
a strange ceremony. It would seem that while the High Captain is crafting a certain object in a
make-shift forge, the High Arcanist is chanting, unleashing a cloud of flies from his mouth. The
swarm would be streaming towards the anvil and dispersing into thin air, as if it was immaterial
upon reaching the long shaft of the crafted object. In exchange, the object would be unleashing
a layer of thin, blue mist which is being sucked into the High Arcanist's mouth. Even an untrained
eye would understand that they are exchanging the very essences of their existence. Strong
stench of the brimstone is felt in the air around them. The ceremony continues for at least one
full cycle..

The High Arcanist is seen walking the city, taking strange, equal steps, as if he was counting
and measuring something. Most of the attention he pays to the Court of the Dead.. until he
finally reaches a certain point and with a piece of charcoal he draws a large X on the ground.
Then, he adds a few notes in his grimoire and draws, what appears to be a map of some sort.

One day, it may be notable that one of the Centurions has not returned from patrol in Cordor...

Theadric Shortwick is seen sat in Tarkuul against a fence surrounded by logs. He seemed to be carving away at the ends of each of them, then binding them with rope to form a basic wooden barricade. He'd take his time, not rushing, but he'd get around four made from the supply logs he bought.

Once done, he'd dissapear for a few moments to inform Gerald that he had some crafted, then would store them where ever he'd be told to. Once done, he and a Blue hin dissapear through the library into the mythal forge room.

He hands over a few items and spends a good hour or so on crafting components to a kukri, then hands it over.

Finally, he retired for the night.

Every time Theadrick would pass by Lucius, he would be feel the
heat of the High Arcanist's gaze as he would stare in silence. His
onyx eye, hovering suspended in an empty eye socket is clearly
burning with malicious, crimson glitter.

The High Captain can be seen returning to the city with a goblin, a thin robed figure, and Asya. Asya appeared to be leaning on the robed figure for support, covered in dried blood until they made their way to one of the temples for healing.

*Valkin Mulgin would be seen about the city once more, in discussion with the speaker of the house, the Captain of the Guard and the High Arcanist. Two days pass with him exploring the city, paying respects to the city and its denizens. On the third day, Valkin begins his work. Firstly he would be seen going over some old notes of his pertaining to the library of Tarkuuls warding*

"Mineself must seekith a method of transference, as such wards will suite well the city's new additions" *he mutters to Rattan, his undead counterpart*

In the Tower of the Forsaken, the silence of the study was disturbed by the sound of stone cracking and
loud chanting. It seems that the two skeletal arcanists were both working on some kind of abjuration.
Some time later.. several stone tablets and two obelisks were risen within the library.

Over a few hours, Tarkuuls arena is in use by two initiates of the Living Guard. The sit and laugh, sharing conversation as they build ten barricades made of sharpened wooden logs and hemp rope. They'd be left there by order of Gerald. Theadric and Maliana, then leave the area.

// I'd supply all the Screenies I took, but that's not needed.

The high captain orders these barricades as well as several large crates to be moved to west cordor by the living guard.

*The sunken red orbs of a deathlock fix upon texts of ward and guard, while beside the pale bone figures turn page after page in endless search for answers, for truths. Seven, in total in balance of life, of death and beyond*

The Living City would feel a presence mainly within its hallowed library, Frequently A tall figure dressed in flowing black and bone white robes accompanied with parchments also wearing a unique mask with Tusks to accommodate the helm would be seen traversing the courts and often frequenting towards the library.

Each sighting seen would see the figure walking with intent, Arcane power seems to be swirling around the figure as the parchments with flowing black ink seem to whistle and blow lightly as he moves.

He is often polite and a man of words that matter, Any who approach the figure would ascertain that he is proficient in the ways of conversation and directing the subject onto important matters unto themselves or a topic of knowledge.

If one visits the tower of the forsaken, One could hear coming from the school of necromancy the screams of the tortured, The cries of the damned and the pleading of souls. It is there that the activity that the tusked figure focus's on.

"I will not rest, I will not tire. Knowledge is power."

*A familiar figure could be seen roaming the city streets once more. Draco kept much to himself since his return, offering little more than pleasantries to those that might approach him. Primarily seen in the library, immersed in his studies, otherwise he could be seen entering a warded gate into the lower chambers of the city and emerging some hours later.*

An early morning for Theadric, he's seen stood outside the castle reading Tarkuuls law over, copying them into a book. The time he spent standing there would suggest that either he's the slowest writer on Amia, or he was repeating the text over and over. After which, he'd walk to the arena and spend a few hours slicing at a target dummy, finally taking a patrol of the city.

In the Living city presently there seems to be significant presence at the temple of velsharoon. Figures coming in and outside of the temple,

A certain masked figure now headed to the Tower of the forsaken with an ambitious stride in its step.

If any who enter the libraries of the Tower, They could see the figure looking through the books, Ever searching for knowledge, What seems like echoes coming from the figure...

"The Vaunted.. Progression... Ambition.."

*Valkin would be seen tending to the new wards in the tower of the Forsaken ensuring his engravings and imbuing were as close to the originals as possible including rounding off any imperfections. Furthermore he would test the wards with Flare and flame arrow cast upon a lump of marbel near each ward to ascertain if the process had worked *

http://www.amiaworld.net/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=109&t=78545

With the extent of his past research and restoration efforts, he would find that his work in the Tower of the Forsaken seems just as effective.

// Will be updating the module when I can to reflect it.

The chuck and whirr of a printing press can be heard in Hurst's office, and in the early hours, a publication goes out. It seems to be an instant hit to the former Cordorians, but it's soon published around the city. There are several articles more, mostly about more minor events, bar fights, someone's pet undead bunny, and more, but these ones take the headlines...:

Quote:

The clarion of the Commonwealth presents:
LIFE IN TARKUUL:
Dear reader of the Clarion, if you've been wondering how life in Tarkuul has been, then wonder no more! First, let me tell you of the lovely cuisine available in the Ghostly Kraken! Why, Marigath the chef can create such lovely dishes with mushrooms and shark meat that you would never dream of to be so wonderful! Why, have you ever tried a lovely shark sandwich with sauted mushroom bread with onions, cabbage, and mushroom sauce? It provides such a lovely explosion of flavor that makes my tongue sing with delight at the wonderful taste! Such wonderful nights our people have with the ghastly ambiance and decoration, and oh despite it it makes for such a lovely environment! It may look scary, dear reader, as does the fearsome looking bartender, who I must admit makes a lovely swirl of fine Songue Sombra! Or if one has a taste for sweeter fare, a lovely Midnight Nectar, both having a lovely taste which goes quite nicely with Blue Cap Flatbread topped with Spice Trumpet Humus!

OUR SECRETARY STANDS WITH FOREIGN INVADERS!

This is a heavy thing for me to tell you, dear reader, for Jay Edgar Mover was an esteemed colleague and hero of the people for many years, but the truth is revealed for you tonight. It is a shock, I know, but I urge you to continue reading, dear reader, for many things Mover had withheld from me when we worked together and dined together in service to the Commonwealth! He was a man who had many secrets, indeed!
Dear reader, I reveal to you that Secretary Jay Edgar Mover stands with a foreign entity, Amn, who now seeks to destroy Cordor and all we know and love! He stands with the Arcanum, a group of magi that hold themselves above the COMMON MAN! And I have come to know Amn, as a man of my station should know about foreign powers, and let me tell you that while the markets of Athkatla are a lovely sight to see, know that they are ruled by a Council of Six! Not only that, but this council is made up of NOBLES! That' right dear reader! Amn seeks to subjugate Cordor and spell a return of the NOBLES to rule over the COMMON MAN once more! And Jay Edgar Mover, oh, how it hurts to say this to one I once considered a most dear friend, but he now serves them! Jay Edgar Mover serves NOBLES, and the mages who would use their powers to lord over the common man instead of using them to be part of the commons!
Here in Tarkuul, I have seen many a mage, many of the very ghastly and scary disposition indeed! But they all serve the COMMON MAN! They are beloved even as they are so spooky and darkly mysterious!
If you are reading this, Dear Jay Edgar Mover, then don't work with Amn! Stand with your people in the commonwealth, as a defender of the COMMON MAN! It hurts to write this, oh old friend, but I am simply aghast by the betrayal to NOBLES that I have had to see before me! Come back and side with us! Stand against the tyrrany of the NOBLES and their magic wielding goons as you once had! Follow the dreams of Joseph Maximillian and see the commonwealth prosper! But I must weep on deep nights now, for I know that you have chosen to shun those you once protected. Oh, how it hurts to see such a defender of the COMMON MAN fall to such depths. It makes me want to cry when no one can see or hear me in misery to know what had happened to an old friend I knew and loved.

And people of Cordor, even in these dark times, you need a leader, a leader chosen by the PEOPLE! Demand elections! They have been put off for far too long! You need a leader that YOU, the CITIZENS OF THE COMMONWEALTH believe in and love!

Our hearts go out to you, citizens of Cordor, but rest assured that you are not forgotten by those here, and we will continue to support you in your fight for freedom against the Tyranny of NOBLES!

Copies of this document are ordered to be distributed around West Cordor by the High Captain.

The1Kobra wrote:

The chuck and whirr of a printing press can be heard in Hurst's office, and in the early hours, a publication goes out. It seems to be an instant hit to the former Cordorians, but it's soon published around the city. There are several articles more, mostly about more minor events, bar fights, someone's pet undead bunny, and more, but these ones take the headlines...:

Quote:

The clarion of the Commonwealth presents:
LIFE IN TARKUUL:
Dear reader of the Clarion, if you've been wondering how life in Tarkuul has been, then wonder no more! First, let me tell you of the lovely cuisine available in the Ghostly Kraken! Why, Marigath the chef can create such lovely dishes with mushrooms and shark meat that you would never dream of to be so wonderful! Why, have you ever tried a lovely shark sandwich with sauted mushroom bread with onions, cabbage, and mushroom sauce? It provides such a lovely explosion of flavor that makes my tongue sing with delight at the wonderful taste! Such wonderful nights our people have with the ghastly ambiance and decoration, and oh despite it it makes for such a lovely environment! It may look scary, dear reader, as does the fearsome looking bartender, who I must admit makes a lovely swirl of fine Songue Sombra! Or if one has a taste for sweeter fare, a lovely Midnight Nectar, both having a lovely taste which goes quite nicely with Blue Cap Flatbread topped with Spice Trumpet Humus!

OUR SECRETARY STANDS WITH FOREIGN INVADERS!

This is a heavy thing for me to tell you, dear reader, for Jay Edgar Mover was an esteemed colleague and hero of the people for many years, but the truth is revealed for you tonight. It is a shock, I know, but I urge you to continue reading, dear reader, for many things Mover had withheld from me when we worked together and dined together in service to the Commonwealth! He was a man who had many secrets, indeed!
Dear reader, I reveal to you that Secretary Jay Edgar Mover stands with a foreign entity, Amn, who now seeks to destroy Cordor and all we know and love! He stands with the Arcanum, a group of magi that hold themselves above the COMMON MAN! And I have come to know Amn, as a man of my station should know about foreign powers, and let me tell you that while the markets of Athkatla are a lovely sight to see, know that they are ruled by a Council of Six! Not only that, but this council is made up of NOBLES! That' right dear reader! Amn seeks to subjugate Cordor and spell a return of the NOBLES to rule over the COMMON MAN once more! And Jay Edgar Mover, oh, how it hurts to say this to one I once considered a most dear friend, but he now serves them! Jay Edgar Mover serves NOBLES, and the mages who would use their powers to lord over the common man instead of using them to be part of the commons!
Here in Tarkuul, I have seen many a mage, many of the very ghastly and scary disposition indeed! But they all serve the COMMON MAN! They are beloved even as they are so spooky and darkly mysterious!
If you are reading this, Dear Jay Edgar Mover, then don't work with Amn! Stand with your people in the commonwealth, as a defender of the COMMON MAN! It hurts to write this, oh old friend, but I am simply aghast by the betrayal to NOBLES that I have had to see before me! Come back and side with us! Stand against the tyrrany of the NOBLES and their magic wielding goons as you once had! Follow the dreams of Joseph Maximillian and see the commonwealth prosper! But I must weep on deep nights now, for I know that you have chosen to shun those you once protected. Oh, how it hurts to see such a defender of the COMMON MAN fall to such depths. It makes me want to cry when no one can see or hear me in misery to know what had happened to an old friend I knew and loved.

And people of Cordor, even in these dark times, you need a leader, a leader chosen by he PEOPLE! Demand elections! They have been put off for far too long! You need a leader that YOU, the CITIZENS OF THE COMMONWEALTH believe in and love!

Our hearts go out to you, citizens of Cordor, but rest assured that you are not forgotten by those here, and we will continue to support you in your fight for freedom against the Tyranny of NOBLES!

Theadric is seen for a good few hours cutting curved planks down to size which he'd taken from the Tarkuulian supply, rather rapidly crafting seal-able air tight wooden barrels, having forked some money toward Havoc to have him fit metal bands around the top and center to hold the planks in tighter, fitting a hinge and air tight, openable lid. It's clear Thea takes his work seriously, as he crafts away with his eyes on his work, fully focussed and determined as he pumps out barrel after barrel, leaving a good load in the Court of The Undying, by the ledge between the castle and temple of the Vaunted. At a quick count, he's crafted roughly 15 over the night he'd spent slaving away.

After a brief venture out into the swampland beyond the portal, the Necromaster returns to the enclave with a box of rattling vials filled with strange dark green to yellowish brown colours, the smell overwhelming anyone venturing too near. Taking these vials into the catacombs, they are corked and left in storage for the time being.

Over the past few recent events over the last few days, The figure previously wearing a tusked helm would now seem to not wear the helm anymore,

Instead what visitors and residents in the city would see is a cruel macabre of scarring on the right side of the mans face, Complimented with A black onyx eye, Its iris a darker purple as it focus's around its settings. The figures complexion would sport a bone white, Ever gazing with that of a serious demeanour, Nor a change of facial expression regardless of the surroundings.

In more recent days, He is often at the behest and accompanying the High Arcanist to the various locations situated in the Living City, An Arcane influx of power now starting to become evident in this figure as he accompanies his master.

The mans parchments should they be seen previously by other bystanders that are located on his robes seemed to have yellowed, The black ink now etched onto the parchments as if scarring the paper.

At certain interval's, He can be found alone within the Temple of the Vaunted, Ever making prayer to him.

A massive Death Slaad would be hauling corpses
by the dozens into the Crypts of Tarkuul..

In the Court of the Undying, the High Captain could be seen stationing two Sentinels outside of the crypts, instructing them to bar any but the Hands access unless given express permission by the Council. It would seem the crypts of Tarkuul were indeed becoming busy.

Broldi wrote:

Theadric is seen for a good few hours cutting curved planks down to size which he'd taken from the Tarkuulian supply, rather rapidly crafting seal-able air tight wooden barrels, having forked some money toward Havoc to have him fit metal bands around the top and center to hold the planks in tighter, fitting a hinge and air tight, openable lid. It's clear Thea takes his work seriously, as he crafts away with his eyes on his work, fully focussed and determined as he pumps out barrel after barrel, leaving a good load in the Court of The Undying, by the ledge between the castle and temple of the Vaunted. At a quick count, he's crafted roughly 15 over the night he'd spent slaving away.

First thing this morning, Theadric would be approached by around two-dozen men and women as he works, citizens of Tarkuul all. One would take the initiative to offer a hand to the halfling to shake, Haven't seen too many hin in this city, especially in a guard's uniform, so you must be Watcher Theadric. I'm Daniel Milson, call me Danny if ye like. The Magistrate asked us to help you with your work starting today, all of us were shipwrights or carpenters or the like back in Cordor.

The corrupted mythal forge is approached by a robed man with a distinct appearance. He slowly and respectfully walks a path around the forge for several minutes before making preparations for its use. He lays out several large chunks of mythal with care, followed by two large hammers. The man then removes his robe to reveal a strangely muscled torso. The hammers begin to pound into the night like a ticking metronome, halting just before sunrise.

Odd explosions might be seen and clearly heard in the lowland swamps, investigations reveal several small craters - quickly being filled in with the swamp waters - from the location of the strange flashes and sounds. The only tell-tale hint out-of-place among the swamps is the stench of undead, underwhelming when compared to the swamp, but notable none the less.

Many miles to the south, the Necromaster dusted off her robe and entered the city of Tarkuul once more making way straight towards the vaunted temple, disappearing into the study chamber not to be seen for hours...

The chaos mage makes another visit to the Living City early in the morning, his cantankerous pseudodragon trailing close behind. He does not head to the library or office, but instead walks up to one of the City's imposing spires and weaves a spell of Shapechanging. He adopts the form of a virile young adult dragon, with imposing horns and scales the color of shiny coal. A clawed forehand is rested against the stones of the tower, as though feeling for something. After a weighty pause, the mage-dragon hauls himself vertically, the reptile scaling the side of the tower as though it were a particularly large insect. He would occasionally pause to swat at the familiar buzzing about his head, the ancient pseudodragon seeming to take particular delight in harrying his companion.

Eventually the mage reaches the top of the spire, giving the drop over the edge a -very- dubious look, that might look horribly amusing on the otherwise ferocious form he had adopted. After enduring a round of vicious teasing from his familiar for cowardice, the mage-dragon swallowed once and leap from the tower. There was a very undignified half croak, half roar in the brief sickening moment before Enclave's Feather Fall took hold, and the man-dragon all but sighed in relief. Coaxed by more prodding from his familiar, the dragon tested its wings during the lazy descent, getting a feel for how the membranes filled with air, how the wind passed over his streamlined shape. When he reach the bottom, he climbed the spire and repeated the process all over again, gaining more confidence each time. Every half hour or so, the mage would revert back to a human in order to refresh the powerful spell, before resuming his practice. By early evening, the mage is flapping around the city clumsily, his obnoxious familiar all but leading him by the nose, but dutifully passing along invaluable help on staying in the air.

Glim wrote:

Broldi wrote:

Theadric is seen for a good few hours cutting curved planks down to size which he'd taken from the Tarkuulian supply, rather rapidly crafting seal-able air tight wooden barrels, having forked some money toward Havoc to have him fit metal bands around the top and center to hold the planks in tighter, fitting a hinge and air tight, openable lid. It's clear Thea takes his work seriously, as he crafts away with his eyes on his work, fully focussed and determined as he pumps out barrel after barrel, leaving a good load in the Court of The Undying, by the ledge between the castle and temple of the Vaunted. At a quick count, he's crafted roughly 15 over the night he'd spent slaving away.

First thing this morning, Theadric would be approached by around two-dozen men and women as he works, citizens of Tarkuul all. One would take the initiative to offer a hand to the halfling to shake, Haven't seen too many hin in this city, especially in a guard's uniform, so you must be Watcher Theadric. I'm Daniel Milson, call me Danny if ye like. The Magistrate asked us to help you with your work starting today, all of us were shipwrights or carpenters or the like back in Cordor.

The help would not be dismissed, but welcomed with a cheery smile and friendly exchange of pleasantries. The hin would continue the crafting and churning out of the containers for the next day, taking routine patrols of the city as to not shirk his duties as well as continuing his order of his crafting.

The High Captain can be seen pulling from shifts in West Cordor to have the Living Guard trained and certified in use of the Heavy Ballista. The time taken for the men to learn is so that they could do so without instruction if necessary, and those who are certified in its use are further tested for their ability to demonstrate to other guardsmen. Those who show some capacity are thus instructed to train their fellow guardsmen in use of the ballista, and a system of recommendation for instructors is instituted. One of the Living Guard may recommend a instructor to the High Captain, and he then has them demonstrate the use of the ballista in a mock lesson. Should they be capable enough, they are made to spread their knowledge among the ranks.
//Gerald also discreetly points and laughs at the draconic Valerius.
In the late hours of the night, the Gerald can be seen coming from the castle by way of portal with the Living Guard carrying the bodies of Amnish soldiers with them. They bring what could be near a hundred corpses down before their work is done.
//And after that he takes a moment to mock and laugh at Valerius some more, what a jerk!

A certain half-elf known to some as Sicarius can be seen again in Tarkuul, usually lurking in the Ghostly Kraken for no other reason it seems but to observe the patrons as he declines to purchase food or drink from the tavern.

*Rathan, valkins eternal companion would approach Sicarius*

My Master would seekith counsel with thee, when able.

//pm sent

A figure strides through the entrance of the living city with a definite purpose in its stride, The very air around this robed figure seems to be stilled and flow with a chill in the air,

The figure seems to be wearing robes identical to that of the one of the students of the Headmaster of the magisterium mortis, However, The robes seem to have a tiny, tiny layer of frost on them.

The colour of the robes seem to be a bone grey which seems to merge well with the frost, At that previous parchments that were yellowed and flowed with black ink now seem to be ripped, Instead the writing seems to conglomerate and form into runes that if a proficient in the arcane would appraise it, They would seem to be fully imbued with energy of sorts.

The air chill's as the figure walks towards the temple of the vaunted. The student seems to have returned after a profound endeavour...

A well-known green-garbed warrior makes her way to Tarkuul and through the City, accompanied by the perhaps more familiar face of one named "Kat." It seemed to be some sort of official business.

Another in the series of dark rituals has taken place
in the Tower of the Forsaken..

The Headmaster of the magisterium and a heavily scarred figure with a black onyx eye combined with a purple iris leaves the tower of the forsaken,

The scarred figures skin is marred and burned seemingly looking recent as he seems to regard the Living city in his bone white robes and glowering robes that pulsate on the ripped parchments that are attached on them.

His pale colouring combined with the recent burn's on his face denote that he has been through a trial,

He would have been seen accompanying the Headmaster of the Magisterium as they left, Both heading their separate ways in the living city as time progressed.

*Within the Magisterium Mortis classroom Draco could be seen collecting some of alchemic tools he needed and bringing them into the dungeons, claiming one of the empty cells as his workstation. With the door shut behind him it’s anyone’s guess what he was working on behind closed doors. Every-so-often one could hear an explosion coming from down below. After one particularly audible explosion Draco could be seen exiting the cell coughing and followed by a plume of smoke. After a Gust of Wind spell was used to clear the room of smoke, he closes the door and resumes his work.*

Ahriman would be frequently seen within the Living city attending to the Castle of Tarkuul, The Tower of the Forsaken and intermittently the Crypt over the last few days, Occasionally exiting the City for short intervals.

Recently, He would be seen in company with a few strangers to the Living City that would seem to keep close to him,
Few of note would be a Goblin with red robes,
A Drowess who seemed to command an aura of expectance and of course more recognisable to the citizens of the Living city,
The older man known as a Novitus of the Magisterium would also be seen accompanying Ahriman.

In addition, Conversation could be seen taking place between the Alumnus and Havoc the smithy, With that congregation finalizing, The Alumnus would be seen visiting the castle..

Further to the recent activity in the Living City,

Any visitors that walk past the classrooms can hear screams, groans and
unsettling noises of different manifestations of undeath, Students of the Magisterium come and go, Paying but a slight
glance to the activity inside the classroom.

Any who recognise the Alumnus who seems to have been seen around the Living city with various changes and transformations
of both attire and fluctuations in arcane proficiency would be within the classroom,

A few hours before midnight, The classroom provides a spine chilling enviroment which seems to spill out in the corridors
just situated outside. The screams and high pitched moans could be heard for a brief moment, If one had peered into the
classroom they would have seen a wight of some sorts, However as the students come and go as would visitors, They would
notice the Wight is encased in frost and the steam of cold artic air seeps from its essence. The alumnus would seem
to have compelled the Wight imbued with the essence of frost to its knees, Its audible noises calming as the Alumnus
seems to produce a knife, Six inches long and glowering with runes that would appear infernal.. The knife and the Frost
encased wight had an encounter...

Shortly afterwards, The chill would cease and the classroom itself would seem to quieten. After moments of the chill
invading the corridors whispers and a faint audible sound could be heard by those in the corridors nearby, In the classroom
or going between the stairs.

Again, should any visitors or students enter the Alumnus would seem to be concentrating, As if sucking in the very air
around him, His right hand fixated on what seems to be the source of the now taunting and fading whispers which could
make visitors think it is within the depths of their own mind..

At this point the Alumnus himself, With the white robes he is adorned with, Swirls with his ripped, Slightly frosted parchments
embroiled in black ink that would seem to now dance shapes as he concentrates on the manifestation of whispers and dread,
The air around the classroom thickens and swells but then seems to thin, As with the whispers and the sense of dread that
plague the area seem to fade.. The Alumnus would then be seen with an essence of sorts contained within a clear glass container..

As the small changes in the enviroment and the effects on the classroom subside, No doubt the students carry on with their lectures,
Discussions on paradoxes and theories between each other, The Alumnus puts the essence into a black holding bag and walks over
to a wooden table, Together with mortar and pestle located on it.

At this point he would produce several equisite quality diamonds and study them for a moment, At that he would place them
in his left palm. His right hand gesturing and his cold, unforgiving yet unjudging voice..

"Capere, lacerare pulverem.."

The diamonds seem to float a few inches above his left black gloved hand, A green essence flows from his right hand, Resembling
that of a fist. In a union which would appear seamless the fist would then crush the diamonds within the grip, reducing it to
much smaller variants of the original diamonds.

The Alumnus would nod slightly and allow the fist to set the glowering, beautiful remains of the hardy jewel's into the mortar..
What next could be seen is the Alumnus taking the pestle and reducing it to ash..

The classroom seems to be having much use by the Alumnus on that eve.

In the darkest of night, Vorax can be seen walking through the city at a slow pace. To anyone who would notice, he quietly walks the same path several times before ending at the Kraken. While making his presence known to some, he may be easily dismissed by others. Inside the Kraken, Vorax buys a drink and consorts with a local patron until early morning. The hand gestures performed during conversation would appear to mimic violent acts.

A Breath in the Silence: "Life" in Tarkuul

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