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A Messenger at the Sea
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Author:  Dark Immolation [ Sat, Nov 21 2015, 8:18 AM ]
Post subject:  A Messenger at the Sea

"What place is there, for you?"

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In the early morning, shadowy figures and assistants make their way through Tarkuul, spreading by word of mouth that Beldor, known to some as the Harbinger, would be speaking to any whom would care to listen. Rumors range from him having some declaration to share with the City to offering some sort of gift to those he deems worthy. In all cases, he is said to deliver this message at noon. At such time, he would speak to the amassed and address them so:

---


"By passion, we are born. By deeds, we are remembered. But by will, we are made eternal. Those words have I espoused for some time in the pursuit of all things. Knowledge. Wealth. Power. Renown. Love. But those ideals are not singular to me. No. No, there was a time when the very ground upon which you stand was dedicated to such things. At least in the earnest belief of those who labored under its protection and flourished through its message.

With the coming and departure of Xilphas--a dear colleague I say, still--and the aggression between Cordor and Kohlingen... and the dread Arcanum War which saw no small number of you stripped from your homes... that time is passed, I'm afraid. *He would slowly stretch one hand towards the Temple* "Between the dogma of old..." *and the other to the castle* "...and the be bureaucracy of the present... we are confined. That blazing spark which gave birth to scholar, arcanist, and intellectual has been smothered by these trying times. And try as it may... the City has failed us in some aspects... *he would glance northward, perhaps towards the emptied temple of Shar* ...as we, in turn, failed it.

But we cannot wallow in the past. Nor can we expect the future to deliver itself so neatly into our laps. No, we must wrest it from Fate ourselves, latch on with both hands and pull down from the heavens a paradise of our own. What place is there for you? You, the scholar who opens his eyes towards all knowledge, not just the dour and macabre teachings of but a few. You, the farmer, who so bravely chooses to sow LIFE in a place that would lead you to believe it is but an insignificant and undesirable rung upon a darker, longer ladder. Be ye even so humble as a housewife, certainly you would prefer a home where your children might grow up outside of the shadows cast by corpses, a place not of zealotry, but of understanding and cooperation and desires made manifest. If not here, then where? To Kohlingen, to be lynched for your open minds and open hearts and weighed upon by dusty tomes of law? To Cordor, where in one half you fall prey to cutpurses and in the other those who pick your pockets are elected to do so? To you--for you--that place must be made... That is the charge I deliver to you today, and if you so have the will, the burning indignation against ignorance that allows humanoid kind to rise forever skyward, then this is an opportunity offered to you by the Weave itself. And a path along which it shall aid and guide you.

There is a place... far from here--a sea away, in fact. There is a place where I and a brave many have decided to carve out a life anew for those sharing in this vision. A vision that so long ago even I believed might be fulfilled by our City... Perhaps one day it will... but for those of us whom do not live for centuries... but for decades instead... you cannot wait for the curving arc of history to lead Tarkuul to the glory it is deserving of, were it rings true to its message. I offer you an invitation. Not a hand-out, for such a thing would be an insult to everything you are by being here--innovators, fighters, hardy folk who know the worth of a long day's work. This, I offer you: a place to start anew. Beneath the snows, a warm home--a new home. A citadel wherein we shall create our own haven of prosperity, of knowledge... of desire. You will have food. You will have work. You will have a warm bed for you and your lovers and your children. This, I shall see to myself. You will not be alone. I will guide you and aid you in any way I can. *He would look to where one of the makeshift shrines would have stood in the main square* ... I am not sure what you would think of me. A shepherd. An idol. A... *he would clench his fist with a downcast gaze* All I can assure you of is that -I am your ally-, in knowledge, in the Weave, in this world and the next. And if you so choose to follow me this day, a place awaits for you that can be made glorious, if you so will it. If you have the motivation and the drive that I know roars within each and every soul gathered here to today. And to that place, I would welcome you. To Belenoth, I would see you made as spectacular as your hearts desired.


*he would pause a moment and allow the crowd to speak among itself, dropping his airs long enough to gauge their reaction before continuing*

At dusk, I shall depart from this place. *he motions a hand behind him and towards the sea* Those willing to come with me, make ready. Carry only what you think you might need. Keep livestock and furniture to a minimum. Our journey will continue from here briefly to the realm of Dweomerhart. There, for a day or so, we shall prepare our minds and souls for the task at hand--a shot at creating for ourselves our own realm, made holy and magical by the most sacred thing of all: our mortal will. If you would, be ready to state for me your name, your country of origin, and other personal particulars that I might keep a record. Parents, be ready to answer for your children as well. *he would pause again, becoming solemn* ... Let it be known that any agents of Thultanthar, users of the Shadow Weave, or followers of the Dark Twin herself will meet with quick and painful death if they choose to follow me... if not by my hand, by the agents of the Lady of Mysteries. I tell you this in fair warning... let not your loved ones enter, should you know them to be any of these. You shall have my pity... but never my mercy."

---


After these words, he would depart briefly from the stage before the ocean, pacing a course towards the Tower of the Damned. Retrieving a few pieces of stationary, he returns and waits where he spoke, greeting those who had again assembled to await the journey. With passing glances to the spots where his banners once hung, a look of resolve steels his gaze and he sets about making ready with a quiet and passionate fervor.

Author:  Dark Immolation [ Sat, Nov 21 2015, 9:06 AM ]
Post subject:  Re: A Messenger at the Sea

When those who had chosen to leave had assembled with their belongings, ready for travel, Beldor would speak as thus:

"Memento Mori... It is said Tark spoke these words. 'Remember: you die.' *He'd chuckle under his breath* I suppose that is true. And were you to judge me by my choice of dress, you might imagine I would be endeared to such a statement. But to me... for me... the skull has always been a symbol of... life. Of life and wonder. *He would palm his skull mask, slowly bringing it down from his face* Even at its barest state... stripped of flesh and muscle and all but that which gives it structure... even at its barest, the humanoid form is beautiful. Articulate. Wondrously designed in aesthetics and function. Ergo, each one of us is beautiful. And therefore, our lives are beautiful... at their base. The rest... the rest is just wrapping for the present. So while your founder may have declared his view upon the world, I prefer to live by mine: Memento Vivere."

*he would slice the air with Elohim and call open a Gate to Dweomerheart as large as his abilities might hold.*

"Remember: you live!"

Image


With a cosmic hum, he and those who followed after him embark upon their journey.


//Done with DM Permission

Author:  Dead [ Sun, Nov 22 2015, 14:08 PM ]
Post subject:  Re: A Messenger at the Sea

With a mere shake of his head, the High Arcanist followed Beldor into the gate, alas with
a gaze. Then he counted the number of departing citizens, if there were any, and headed
to the Tower of the Damned. A few words were uttered as Lucius departed the scene.


"Clueless, as ever."

Author:  Silkelock [ Sun, Nov 22 2015, 15:13 PM ]
Post subject:  Re: A Messenger at the Sea

It would seem the Spellsword's presence would not go unnoticed by the Councillors as even the Magistrate makes his way out into the court to listen to words of the flamboyant individual. As he makes note of Memonti Mori the Magistrate would add a few words of his own.

I see your ways have not changed Spellsword, your hubris shields you from true knowledge. You speak as if you understood what our founder meant by Memento Mori. It is pathetic how you stumble on the true purpose and try to sway those around you to follow you down into that hole in the ground you call home.

Grim would turn to whatever crowd had gathered to listen to the man, adressing them as well.
I want you all to know what home he is offering you. The place he speaks of is a tomb in all the meanings. An abandoned dwarven city cursed by its late inhabitants. Former scholars of our city who were unable to keep up with the High Arcanists simplest of tasks lead this hole in the ground. What the Spellsword cannot offer you is perhaps the most important one. Safety from an early end. As it is now those who oppose us already let their gaze fall to this dwarven graveyard and I am sure it is only a matter of time before they find themselves by the opression of the treaty pouring down on them.

The City nor the council will stop anyone from leaving nor will we stop anyone from returning once they understand that the words of the Spellsword are as shallow as his visage.


With that the Magistrate spends some time only to see if anyone follows all while he focuses to see if the Spellsword has any enchantsment in the works.

Author:  TormakSaber [ Sun, Dec 13 2015, 21:25 PM ]
Post subject:  Re: A Messenger at the Sea

Dead wrote:
With a mere shake of his head, the High Arcanist followed Beldor into the gate, alas with
a gaze. Then he counted the number of departing citizens, if there were any, and headed
to the Tower of the Damned. A few words were uttered as Lucius departed the scene.


"Clueless, as ever."


Precisely seven people, 3 women, and 4 men, mostly middle aged save for one older man that looks to be retired, depart with Beldor and his apprentice.

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