Tal was 60 years old at the time of this encounter, and by virtue of dark powers and shady dealings, sought to prolong his life. All things are possible in the Void, I'm told, if for a price...
I regret that I was unable to complete the subsequent phases of this ritual, but the first part was kinda cool on its own merits.
With the passing of midnight, it is now Endenday, 4th day of Converumir.
A low dais of reflective black stone extends from the center of the
western wall of this great hall. Looming above, arches of stone rise to
support a massive dome of translucent tiles, through which shines a strange,
thin light. Carvings in pale stone adorn the arches, architraves and dome
with images both splendid and grotesque, and on the western wall a
bas-relief of alabaster and jade depicts a scene of carnal and esoteric
magnificence. In the center of the dais stands a great brazier, cast of
gold and set upon an obsidian pedestal. A wispy darkness swirls like fire
within this bowl, in whose depths the blackness is absolute.
[Exits: north east south]
A great brazier of gold is filled with a burning blackness.
Lilisa, the Archmage of the Nexus, stands silently by the brazier.
Sydonus, High Defender of the Black Vanguard, stands at the rear of the dais.
Tal intones, in arcane, 'Good midnight, Lady Priestess. Master Sydonus.'
Lilisa regards you calmly.
Lilisa answers 'And a good midnight to you, in the ancient and hallowed body of
Lilisa makes an intricate, fluid gesture with interlaced fingers as she speaks.
Tal responds, formally, in arcane, 'Ashkari m'adesti, raphet adal. One life to
serve, Lady Priestess.'
As Tal draws the folds of his cloak about his form, a chorus of dissonant
screams lurches forward and falls silent.
Lilisa notes with a serene contralto 'I have been holding something in careful
abeyance for you, my Lord Dragon.'
Something stirs in the deeper darkness of the Nexus.
Tal mutely turns his gaze to the nexus, peering into the darkness-with-shape.
The flicker of candlelight illuminates threads of silver, binding the patchwork
of his cloak.
Lilisa mirrors your turn, opening her arms.
From within the Darkness, form coalesces, swirling together into a coherent
A tenebrous limb sprouts forth, slender and lithe.
Slowly, haltingly, a young woman, heavy with child, stumbles forth.
Tal observes the gathering darkness, tracing his gaze over the sinewy, shadow-wrought form as it emerges from nothingness.
Lilisa regards the nude figure with obscene delight, dead eyes almost seeming to sparkle.
The young woman turns, looking about herself with dreamy slowness. Her flesh is corpse-pale, a tracery of blue veins clear beneath the skin.
Her belly is distended, the skin dark and angry with inflammation.
Tal lowers an impassive gaze to the nude, ghost-white form, letting his eyes drift to Lilisa, and the Dais. He curls his fingers about the haft of his staff, anticipation writ on his features.
Lilisa whispers with measured intensity 'A gift for you, my Lord..! To be sealed to your own soul, cloven to your flesh. A rite lost to faulty memories.'
Lilisa urges with casual authority 'We will require the Sign of the One Who Hungers. Rend a scar in this world, that another scar may be the tissue-that-binds.'
A peal of deadened anguish rises from the folds of his cloak, as Tal raises a slender hand to touch his chin.
The woman stands motionless, arms slack at her sides, head bowed.
Tal fluidly lowers himself to the chamber floor, kneeling. An unembellished pouch of leather appears in his palm, and a versed hand traces a figure, obscene and arcane, upon the smooth stonework.
You carefully begin to inscribe the Scar of Gagaroth.
With wide, heavy strokes of silver dust, you begin the drawing of a symbol of power.
The symbol takes shape as a you inscribe a dark scar across the ground, radiating tapering arcs like creeping wounds.
With a last, emphatic smear, you finish inscribing the Scar of Gagaroth.
The womanthing drifts forward, seeming to slow and founder as she steps lightly onto the lines of the Scar.
Tal examines the bloody wound, writ in powdered silver. He murmurs, in arcane, 'Gagaroth thakkad, malefor a'yyad.'
Lilisa hisses 'Pronounce the words of Binding. Trammel the unborn Gift's lot with your own. Tie it to yourself, imbued with your touch.'
Lilisa says 'In this way, the sacrifice's hold will be lasting and ...wholesome.'
An ironic chuckle, drier than bone, escapes the timeless lips.
Tal rises to his feet, as fluidly as he knelt, approaching the ghost-pale form with an almost benign expression upon his countenance.
Tal takes a vial of gold-chased silver from the folds of his robe, a sickening rapture of pain emitting from the motley patches. Removing the stopper, he daubs his fingertips with sticky, crimson blood.
[OOC] Mandabar: How did you get that title?
[SHUNNED] the Outer Sentinel: Ralactiv has descended the outer stairway.
OOC, in arcane, to Ralactiv: Not now, please.
[OOC (arcane)] Ralactiv: *sniffle* Just needed five mins
[OOC (arcane)] Ralactiv: It's all good, just a short visit to the mud for ya?
Tal chants as he draws fell runes, long forgotten, upon the obsequious form, his hand moving deftly as it inscribes the Cross of Khaj Maphet, in arcane, 'Yaddash mithras, eophith, ay'arad iadesh.'
OOC, in arcane, to Ralactiv: I'll stick around if you want to RP, but I'm knee-deep in something.
[OOC (arcane)] Ralactiv: All good.
Ralactiv tells you, in arcane, 'When the Coven shall receive a guest, inform me, I wish only a short span of your time.'
Tal continues the gruesome inscriptions, a tableau of images hideous and graven forming across the flesh of the ghostly form. With a careful hand, the Claws of the Ienarri take shape upon her swollen belly.
With a deft stroke of his fingertips, Tal inscribes an inverted star with seven points upon the ageless woman's forehead. At its center, with sinuous streaks of blood, an unblinking eye takes shape.
With the passing of midnight, it is now Nimensday, 5th day of Converumir.
Tal lifts an open palm to the milk-white, translucent form, chanting in monotone in a forgotten tongue, in arcane, 'Kidari Ashath Cha'adeth, Logor Yajath Bashaar Ideth Ta'ashar.'
[OOC] Lilisa: sorry
Tal continues, his voice amplified by the Void, the abominable words of his chant echoing in the cavernous chamber, in arcane, 'Araphet Idash-Izuth Druzha, Madeshara, Jakketh Teshaar Kora!'
The woman shudders, her turgid belly seeming to pulse beneath the touch.
Tal lowers his hand, the power of the Void swelling within his ancient but ageless form. The fell runes writ upon the woman's form pulse and bend, as though of their own accord.
Lilisa intones 'May you be as flesh of one flesh, blood of one blood. Be bound inextricably; may whatever is bound by the Hunger be untouched by none but the Hunger.'
A dark conduit surges forth from the woman's belly, wrapping itself lovingly around your body for the briefest of lightning-snaps!
With a reek of sulphur and burning metal, the woman is gone.
Tal seizes for an instant, relaxing almost as quickly as the familiar embrace of the Void cradles his form.
Lilisa says stolidly 'The gift has been duly branded. It needs time yet to gestate and fester.'
Tal examines the space where the woman stood, the cloying stench of brimstone thick in the cavern air.
Lilisa glances appraisingly into the Nexus, saying 'It shall take several years, then, for the Gift to mature with any sort of value.'
Lilisa says 'Accrual, if you will.'
Lilisa says 'When the time comes to reap it, there will be dealings with the Scholar.'
Tal draws the edges of his cloak together, wrapping the folds about his slender form.
Lilisa warns quietly 'Do be ready with a proper price of fitting value, for such a pact, such a Sacrifice, does not occur without loss.'
Tal gives a single, shallow nod, responding, in arcane, 'The Scholar's bargains are known well to Ki'yadi.'
Lilisa adds, almost an afterthought 'For while your grasp of the World is whole, this rite is more complex and...broad-reaching than you are perhaps accustomed.'
Lilisa makes a second intricate gesture, noting 'I believe we are finished with this for the nonce, my Lord.'
Tal raises his hand, gesturing vaguely as he murmurs, in arcane, 'You favour me, Oathkeeper.'
Lilisa replies formally 'Favour unto the favoured; unbeing unto the unworthy.'
Lilisa makes an archaic bow, and is silent.
Tal lowers his head in a small bow, the folds of his cloak unleashing a cacophonous wailing at the words.
OOC, in arcane, to Ralactiv: Sorry - my time is shorter than I had anticipated. I'll try to hop on again in a few hours.
You tell Ralactiv, in arcane, 'It shall be as you wish, my child. In the Halls of the Knowing, there is ever welcome for those who would delve.'
For posting cool fight and RP logs, and about your dead characters!
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