Sshamath Arcanist's RP Thread

[TheKai]

A mohawk'd male, becoming more familiar in Sshamath, makes frequent inquiries at the Gloura's Wing and at the Magthere of Mages, looking for the Faernil Irraena.

[TheKai]

Nymrath Urlbrak, wearing the robes identifying his station as a Wizard within the Magthere of Illusion and Phantasm, is seen leaving the grounds of the school. Behind him floats a satchel suspended in air and following closely.

"Do not bother me unless it is by the desire of the Masters" He says calmly and coldly to the Magthere Guards. "I must remain undisturbed for this casting". With that, he casts a glamer and easily blends in with the busy crowd of citizens in Sshamath's streets.

[TheKai]

The male sat there, beads of sweat on his forehead, but smiling at the parchment sitting on the stone slab before him. Echoes of power could still be heard and felt vaguely in the secluded cavern he found himself in. The casting had gone well, exceptionally well, and now, he had his Mage Rune.

The Faern they called Nymrath Urlbrak rolled the parchment finely and walked back to Sshamath with a larger than normal smile on his face. A smile of confidence.

[TheKai]

The Faern of Phantasm, Nymrath Urlbrak could be seen entering the City gates once more. He walked quickly and hastily towards the Magthere of Illusion, a proud smile on his face as he went. Behind him, servitors struggled to carry armloads of regents of various glowing colors and sizes under their arms and in sacks over their shoulders. Easily a train of three followed him.

[TheKai]

A Faern can be seen wandering the streets of Sshamath. He makes his way to various established locales seeking one particular individual.

"Where is the damn Seer when you ACTUALLY need her" He growls frustrated, clutching a remarkable tome tighter.

[Nachti]

Belar makes his way back to the school of necromany. It seems like he couldnt find Zakn'Atar and Shynt'Riina. An observer might notice that hes not happy about it.

Should they get back to the school, the administrator will tell them to take an escort with them next time they leave the city. Then he shows them a list with available guards:

・ Ildan Daevion'lyr, Blackguard (Blackguard), specialized in spreading fear among his enemies, Rank: Feldin Trisil
・ Elerra Olonrae, Necromantic Knight (Cleric of Valsheroon), mistress of the crypt, Rank: Arisa
・ Aergar Bloodfist, Necromantic Assassin (Duergar, Monk), favors hand to hand combat, Rank: Feldin Trisil
・ Belar Arabt'tar, Necromantic Knight (Fighter/Wizard), specialized in animating his enemies, Rank: Barra Trisil
・ Vorn Seerear, Necromantic Knight (Archer), Jabbuk of the eyeless zombies, Rank: Feldin Trisil
・ Dinin Tanor'Thal, Blackguard (Fighter), specialized in kneeling, Rank: Arisa

Ranks:

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Arisa - Lance Corporal - Level 5+
Feldin Trisil - Corporal - Level 9+
Barra Trisil - Sergeant Level 13+
Neccasalmar'urn Trisil - First Sergeant - Level 17+

He also makes clear that these are property of the school and are not killed unless they prove to be more useful unliving. Even then, its not their decision to make.

[Nachti]

The jaluk Belar walks slowly into the school of necromancy. What he didnt notice was a small white rat watching him behind.

Afterwards, the rat ran towards a school's pillar, hiding behind and awaiting the next Faern.



There also appeared a similiar rat near the school of illusion and phantasm that inspects the incoming and outgoing flow.

If someone notices the rat and gets closer he would catch a glimpse of the actual beeing before it runs away towars the next stalagmite.

Hidden: show

[TheKai]

As Nymrath makes his way from the market towards the Magthere, hushed whispers and rumors can be heard excitedly from passerby and local stalls of the new Black Claws Merchantile Company looking to establish themselves within the City of Dark Weavings.

A small smile forms on the Faern's face as he walks on through.

[Empoweredfan]

Nawiel, whom had been busying herself with one handed juggling as she browsed the bazaar, observes Nymrayh entering the establishmebt, and she stops to watch what would happen after the Illusionist comes back out. The mage in question being one of interesting potential. She doesn't strike a very subtle figure, as she continues to practice juggling.

[illithid]

A dark clad jaluk meanders his way through the stalls in the bazaar. Some say he seems more interested in the customers than the goods on sale; others openly greet him, trying to haggle their wares with opportunistic humour; and others still speak in hushed tones as he approaches, turning to their neighbours as he walks past "I said they hadn't gone from here".

The figure pauses for a moment, watching the jalil in the aisle over through the gaps in the stalls, as she spins her hand around juggling something he cannot make out. The corners of his mouth slowly crease into the hint of a smile. "Much change comes with the passing of cycles, and, just as much stays the same" he softly echoes to himself. He offers a vendor a generous amount of plakla for a piece of fruit found only in the sunlight realms. Closing his eyes as he takes a bite, and breathing deep through his nose, savouring the taste and smell. Then kneeling he dexterously rolls it, to gently, but noticeably, strike the jalil on the foot, before swiftly turning away before the impact and heading to the Sshamath billboard.

He lifts a pre-penned note and tacks it to the board:

"WANTED - perfection and potential"

The note is signed in flowing script - Bregan D'aerthe

[TheKai]

A dark clad jaluk meanders his way through the stalls in the bazaar. Some say he seems more interested in the customers than the goods on sale; others openly greet him, trying to haggle their wares with opportunistic humour; and others still speak in hushed tones as he approaches, turning to their neighbours as he walks past "I said they hadn't gone from here".

The figure pauses for a moment, watching the jalil in the aisle over through the gaps in the stalls, as she spins her hand around juggling something he cannot make out. The corners of his mouth slowly crease into the hint of a smile. "Much change comes with the passing of cycles, and, just as much stays the same" he softly echoes to himself. He offers a vendor a generous amount of plakla for a piece of fruit found only in the sunlight realms. Closing his eyes as he takes a bite, and breathing deep through his nose, savouring the taste and smell. Then kneeling he dexterously rolls it, to gently, but noticeably, strike the jalil on the foot, before swiftly turning away before the impact and heading to the Sshamath billboard.

He lifts a pre-penned note and tacks it to the board:

"WANTED - perfection and potential"

The note is signed in flowing script - Bregan D'aerthe

In the streets of Sshamath, three drow could be seen conversing near the posted bulletin. The lone male could be seen speaking to the two female Faernil, inquiring into Bregan D'aerthe and what they knew of this organization. After a while, the Faern could be seen wandering off and disappearing into the busy merchant market place.

[TheKai]

Two drow could be seen conversing near the stalls outside of the Gloura's Wings. The trappings of the male easily identified him as a Faern of the Magthere of Illusion, Nymrath. The female, though somewhat new to the City of Dark Weavings, can be recognized as Schezalle of the Black Claws.

After a long while conversing, gold passes from the Faern to the merchant, with him walking away looking extremely satisfied...and surprisingly excited.

[TheKai]

Curious passerby notice a Faern bearing the marks of the Magthere of Illusion conversing with the well known public figure, Nawiel, of the prestigious Seventh Circle.

They converse for a good while, with those nearby straining to hear what is being said and leaving disappointed. They are left to speculate on what a powerful Jalil would possibly be speaking to the "fresh" Faern about.

[mrm3ntalist]

Zakn'Atar and Shynt'Riina enter the School of Necromancy after being away from Sshamath for a couple of days. They hold a book and many reagents as the walk towards the dark corner where the WeaveMaster Valshar resides. With their head lowered they approach the intimidating masked figure.

Zakn'Atar with a confident and respectful voice addresses the Weave Master

"Weave Master Valshar"

"We brought you the book and the reagents you asked for. I hope you will be satisfied with them, since we chose only the purest ones for you" Glances at Shynt'Riina briefly before looking back to Valshar

"We would also like to ask you to accept us as your apprentices. We traveled from far away to Sshamath and we want to be taught only by the best. The rest of Necromancers pale in comparison to you... and I dont mean just the color of their skin" Says playfully then takes a step back, hoping Valshar will accept their request

[Aelcar]

The shadows twitch like a cloak of darkness around the figure giving the newcomers his back. When he answers, his voice is like the sound of broken glass dragged on a marble floor, his short laugh unlike anything a humanoid throat would produce:

"Well, well...remarkably gifted, if undeveloped yet, properly respectful and you seem to have your uses...I am intrigued...I think I will let you live..."

After a long pause, several mixtures prepared and vials shuffled over his alchemical table, the Weavemaster turns around with almost supernatural grace, even more fluidly than would be expected from an Ilythiir. From the depths of his cowl, his crimson-eyed gaze scans them, as if piercing the flesh in search for their black souls: cruel... cold... calculating... centuries-old:

"Do you realize who you are addressing? You want to learn from Valshar the Black, the Necromancer, the One Who Lived, The Phantom Wizard, former Eye of the 7th Circle and Steward of the School of Necromancy... Are you aware that my apprentices tend to waste my time for a short while, and then invariably meet a painful and untimely death?!"

He inclines his hooded head sideways, pondering for a moment as his gloved hands rub in a calculating manner, then speaks once more in a sinister whisper, the shadows around him reshaping constantly like a living, breathing mantle:

"Why would I want you?"