Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

*Shynt'Riina's gaze level's on the weavemaster as she revels in his darkness, the sound of his voice like music to her ears as she dips her head slowly to him then speaks in a sultry smooth tone dripping with the venom of her young age. They can tell she truly believes her own words.*

Usstan am Naut those useless thralls. I shall learn from their demise and through only the most powerful *dips her head once again to Valshar* shall I achieve the sweet taste of the deathless undeath for all eternity. You are the only one who can teach this properly.

Zakn'Atar chuckles briefly at the last question

"Why would you want me?" He thinks to himself, although his head still lowered, just catching a glimse of the WeaveMaster through the corner of his eye. Once Shynt'Rina finishes with her response he addresses Valshar again

"I am not here to waste my time or yours. Sshamath is the place for an ambitious wizard like me, to climb the ranks and make a name of himself. I can already see the path... my path." pauses for a moment to gather his thought

"I am here to manipulate, corrupt and of course kill, in order to get what I want... what i think is mine. I want to be the best at what I do and to do that i need to get taught by the best" he raises his head just a bit for Valshar to see in Zakn'Atar eyes

His blood-red eyes slowly become bright fissures in the arcane study's darkness as he stares, in turn, towards the jalil and the jaluk while they speak, as if trying to see something only he could. Suddenly, his hardly humanoid whisper breaks the endless moments of intolerable silence:

"I rarely ever accept apprentices. Even when I do, I never get two, since one is already too much of a drain on my valuable time. This would only complicate my agenda as well as test the unsteady grip I have on my dwindling patience... and for what? You will most likely end up dead or disappear entirely anyway..."

With a dark chuckle, he turns once more towards his alchemist's table, shades of red, fluorescent green and purple beginning to form inside the vials as the shadows twitch around him, shrouding him like a black, silent maelstrom. Before long though, he adds without turning:

"...However...You displayed initiative, and a determination I have rarely seen in the last years within these halls. I appreciate the fact you approached me with the endless respect I am due, and the right amount of motivation. Not to mention a certain potential...

As I said...I am intrigued. I will see you both in two cycles for the first lesson. Come prepared, so that it won't be your last...

Now, get out. This elixir is rather unstable, and it would be a pity if I were to be forced to teach my vast knowledge to your corpses..."

And then, the sound again. The sound no living humanoid's throat is supposed to produce, and that no one with any shred of sanity would ever associate with a laugh, or amusement of any kind. The sound that so many creatures heard in their last, agonizing moments before oblivion

The forge of the famed wizard artificer of Qu'ellar Oreb'le'i sees more activity than usual. Much of it is in the form of non-important, petty chatter from his new assistant, but though it is imposible to tell what is going on in there, there is no doubt that it is no simple blade that is being made.

The school of necromancy is "alive" with activity. Apprentice's Shynt'Riina and Zakn'atar can be seen walking briskly through the school following their new Master...

The Weavemaster,
The Necromancer,
The One Who Lived,
The Phantom Wizard,
The Former Eye of the 7th Circle,
The Steward of the School of Necromancy,
The Arcanist of Legend.

It has begun.....

Finally, the time to study under Weavemaster Valshar has come. Zakn and Shynt entered the School of Necromancy early, waiting with much anticipation for Valshar to arrive. Once he did, it took some time to get over the intimidating behavior of the Phantom Wizard - the way he walked, his unnatural voice and his features where something that the young apprentices havent seem before.

Valshar led them to a room on the upper floor of the School. In there they talked for hours. It goes without saying that during those two hours, they learned more about Sshamath, being a wizard and about spells, than they had all this time since the arrived at Sshamath.



------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next Circle, Zakn and Shynt met Faern Nymrath of the School of Illusion and the Necromantic Knight Belar at the Glouras Wing. They were joined there by Uela and a gnome. While enjoying a glass of wine, a drow warrior from the School of Necromancy informed them about a disturbance at Varallas passage that required their attention.

In the end, a handful of heads, belonging to drow outsiders that caused the disturbance, were put on pikes just outside Sshamath. A measure that will probably discourage any similar disturbances. Many corpses were transfered to the Crypt below the School of Necromancy as that is one of the responsibilities of the School. What will happen to the corpses is anyones guess, although the corpses belonging to drow outsiders' means that they will probably end in an anatomy class or even be sold for body parts.

// Thanks to DM Silverfox for the fun UD event

Word quickly spreads among the social circles of Sshamath about an earth shaking battle between hordes of undead, slime, drow and devil. Whispers say the Magthere's of Illusion and Necromancy working in tandem to destroy a common enemy. Many loose ends in the story leave many of the rumors left as fancy. Those more invested in the social gossip would realize the repeated names of the Magthere of Illusion and Necromancy.

A written message is delivered by an imp to the Magthere of Illusion, addressed to Faern Nymrath. It bears the wax seal bearing an image of three black claw slashes.

*Letters are delivered to the Magthere of Necromancy and to the personal guard of the Lady Felyndiira. The letters are sealed with a rune consisting of an eye pierced by a star.*

"Vendui,

Ussa write to inform dos on the progress of the vithing Ghaunador filth. It seems they are slowly and subtlety making their way through every crevice around Sshamath. Ussa was in the crypts outside of the city conducting research. Throughout each level ussa fought and disposed of three gigantic offspring of the foul "god". There was no trace of the cultist or the filth associated with them. If thought they were disposed of, they are not."

The letters are sealed with a rune consisting of an eye pierced by a star.



//Thank you DM Pancake

DM Silverfox wrote:An outpost has been built in the tunnels above Sshamath. It is rumored to have been commissioned by the Magthere of Illusion, yet several undead and city guards are working in unison in patrols nearby. Those observing closely would believe they were searching for something.

An arcanist wearing the emblem marking him as a M'elzar of the Magthere of Illusion and Phantasm can be seen wandering around the school itself, inquiring as to the purpose of this outpost.

DM Silverfox wrote:She looks around the classroom for a moment before replying. "You are young still, so I do not expect you to understand. If you wish to elevate our school, however, then help me find the cult's main base of operation. We have uncovered many cells among us, but they are not what we seek. One of their high priests has an artifact I need. Get this, and you may be rewarded." She then leads him out of the classroom and disappears among the other students. One nearby notices you leave the classroom and asks, "What does the Lady Felyndiira ask? Why is she working with the School of Necromancy?" You try and remember her features, but nothing really comes to mind.

Nymrath sinks against the wall at the mention of the Archmage's name. His knees go weak and his body beginning to tremble. SHE WAS THE MISTRESS OF MY SCHOOL! He thought, bent over, hands on his knees to support himself. By Azuth...

After a awhile he steadies and stands upright, the cold stoic look returning to his features as he stares at the stranger, almost as if studying his face. He looks on the questioner, not giving an answer or reply of any sort and eventually, turns and walks down the corridor.

Thoughts of the Archmage's task flowed through his mind and plans begin to form. Where to begin looking, whom he should enlist in this task and how to go about it away from prying eyes.

Oh...and a plan to kill that unfortunate drow who just witnessed a weak moment from the M'elzar.