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-----------------------------
An imposing foyer.
Mammoth in size, this foyer boasts a spectacularly domed, daemon-emblazed ceiling some fifteen feet
above. A series of macabre candelabras, wrought from harsh silver and twisted into a painfully
sculptured mass, hosts fat candles which ooze with dripping wax and cast bright shards of light out
into the room. Heavy marble tiles line the floor of the entrance way. Inky black and gleaming with a
highly polished finish, they chill the room with cold foreboding, and the foyer is empty save for
four huge columns which stand toward the edge of each far corner. Comprised of sheet white marble,
the surface of each has been scarred a bloody red with a series of grossly mutated caricatures that
twist upwards in suffering splendour. A trio of large archways is sheared into the walls, revealing
the entrances to other sections within the museum. The contents of the facility are hidden by
beautifully brocaded scarlet drapes, a pair slashing diagonally across each opening, creating the
impression of opulence. There are 5 monolith sigils in 4 groups here. A runic totem is planted
solidly in the ground. An obsidian eye sigil is here. Carved from dark obsidian and pale ivory, a
statue of an implacable Ebon Fist monk dominates the foyer, her taut muscles locked in a pose of
eternal readiness. A shimmering orb lies here, illuminating the surrounding area with a slight glow.
Lying flat on the ground is a key-shaped sigil. A powerful black stallion stands here, ethereal blue
flames rising from his body. Shrouded in a voluminous, hooded sable robe, the imposing figure of
Aldebaran, the Devourer, looms menacingly here. Standing still as a statue, a blood steed has fixed
its fiery red eyes on some movement in the distance. Lord-Tyrannus Xenomorph, Knight of Hatred is
here. He wields a Logosian Battleaxe in each hand. Exemplar Aepas Xa'sai, Disciple of Strength is
here. He wields an Yggdrasian splinter in both hands. Abbess Harmonia Nasemnova is riding on a black
daemonic stallion. She wields a blackened cavalry shield with ivory accents in her left hand.
Daemonic Hand Sherazad Tasath is here. Domina Orzaansyn, Novice Scholar is here.
You see exits leading north, northeast, south, and northwest.
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "Citizens of Mhaldor, we take a moment to recognize one of our own."
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "Since long before Bal'met was a name that would forever change
history here, Mhaldor had served the Twin Lords. For many long years, the Twin Lords employed some
of the greatest minds the Ebon Fist has seen. Go back even further still, and you have the time of
Lord Sartan, and some of the earliest leaders of the Guild of Tanjinn Monks, a name that I still
privately think of the Fist as, as I always honour the past."
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "Honour tradition, and honour great leaders, so that I can
participate in making things in Mhaldor that are important to me, important to all. It is during
these long years that go by, we often forget many of these people simply due to a constantly
shifting battle tempo. Some of them, however, are never forgotten. In all of my years in Mhaldor,
certain names are so closely associated with each Guild, they are the Guild. The Ebon Fist is Ruth,
and Ruth, is the Ebon Fist. This is an association that only she can muster, the moment I think of
the institution."
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "This is because Ruth has caused a paradigm in the way the Ebon
Fist will forever be run. This is a fact that you, and future generations of members of the Ebon
Fist will always enjoy, because of her work. I do not stop to recognize Guild ceremonies unless they
really need me to attend one. This is one, and the first one, that I've not even given someone time
to ask for. The world will know Lady Ruth's contributions into forever changing the Fist. From now
on, the Tanjinn, and the Ebon Fist, will now mean even more when Lady Ruth's name immortalizes it."
You have emoted: Ruth dips her head slightly, acknowledging the words of the Tyrannus.
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "This is but one of many tentures Lady Ruth will serve as leader of
the Ebon Fist. This is only a break, among many that we are as leaders take as others go in and out.
At a seconds notice, she's back in the mix, having to cover down for another."
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "Something all leaders must be prepared for. The difference with
Ruth is, you can count on her stepping up to do the job at the last second, every single time. This
will always set her apart from her peers, and ensure you have the best leaders in Mhaldor, something
you should have a right to. Without any further hold up, I give you her successor, Viceroy Sherazad."
Sherazad thanks Xenomorph profusely.
Xenomorph lowers his head respectfully.
Sherazad gives a small nod before saying proudly in a loud voice, "For forty-four years, I had
served the previous Daemonic Hand, Lady Ruth Yuridja-Keyte."
Sherazad glances around and says with emphasis, "Forty-four years."
Sherazad says in a husky, drawling voice, "I barely remember the years before that, only that it has
been a bit chaotic having three Daemonic Hands for a shorter period than Lady Ruth's rule. I tell
you now, before her, I did not foresee myself serving the Ebon Fist to the capacity that I do today
or even when I was the Priora."
Sherazad says in a husky, drawling voice, "If I were to be asked what a good leader is, I only have
to look at Lady Ruth and enumerate her values. We all know that a leader in Mhaldor need only to
order his subordinates and plans are realised. We do not coddle our own but when a leader steps
forward to protect our interests, we are inspired to do our best."
Sherazad says proudly in a husky, drawling voice, "She has continued to be a rolemodel for us all
with her tireless work on striving for excellence in the Triadic beliefs of the Mind, Body and Soul."
Sherazad nods approvingly as she says, "Those who have served her can attest the numerous times her
claws or her knuckles bathed in heathen blood."
Sherazad says in a husky, drawling voice, "We have observed and learned much about her knowledge of
Evil through sermons that can still be read on the city newsboards."
With pride, the Daemonic Hand looks at the statue and then towards the Sartai Navarch. Sherazad
fondly says "And everyone knows, these are not just empty boasts. In her reign, brothers and sisters
worked hand in hand in making the monastery better. All of this culminates to the Ebon Fist's
achievements we observe these days. Most prominently of course, the Fist winning the Trial of the
Five Spires!"
A broad, pentagonal plinth stands four feet in height. Skull-shaped braziers gaze out sightlessly
from the five points of the column, each holding captive an amethyst flame that casts light and
shadow in equal proportion. Rising from fires at the pedestal's peak, inky obsidian and palest ivory
join in a sculpted union to produce the likeness of a stalwart Ebon Fist monk. The lithe body of the
monk contorts perfectly into the Scorpion stance. Nearly translucent, pallid flesh stretches taut
over the perfection of her alabaster musculature. Staring directly ahead at an unknown adversary,
her chiselled expression is calm, save for the tightness about her eyes. The flesh around those
lidless obsidian orbs pulls to the point of tearing, hinting at a deeper, seething rage within.
It weighs about 1165 pounds.
You reach out and touch an obsidian and ivory statue.
Sherazad says to you in a husky, drawling voice, "It is with great gratitude that we thank you for
all the work you have done to bring the Ebon Fist to where it is today: A brotherhood in every sense
of the word, in Evil. Worry not of the future, for the foundations that you have build will serve
the Fist for many years to come!"
Xenomorph slowly steps forward.
Xenomorph's blackened hand leaves a faint trail of ash as he acknowledges you with a formal salute.
Xenomorph proudly shows off a tricorne captain's hat:
Dyed to a rich ebon, the resilient, cool animal felt of this tricorne hat combines utility and
aesthetics to complete a dread pirate captain's ensemble. Its three upturned brims combine to direct
rain water away from the head, pinned up on either side of the head to produce a triangular shape.
The ebony hues emphasise the intense red of the cockade attached to its right side. A distinct
hatpin of blackened metal shaped into a clenched fist sits securely within a scarlet and gules
rosette that attaches to the cockade. Gold metallic rope shines on the edge of the brim, and a large
white plume affixed to the left side lends a touch of flair to this sombre headpiece.
Xenomorph gives a tricorne captain's hat to you.
Xenomorph lowers his head respectfully before you.
Dyed to a rich ebon, the resilient, cool animal felt of this tricorne hat combines utility and
aesthetics to complete a dread pirate captain's ensemble. Its three upturned brims combine to direct
rain water away from the head, pinned up on either side of the head to produce a triangular shape.
The ebony hues emphasise the intense red of the cockade attached to its right side. A distinct
hatpin of blackened metal shaped into a clenched fist sits securely within a scarlet and gules
rosette that attaches to the cockade. Gold metallic rope shines on the edge of the brim, and a large
white plume affixed to the left side lends a touch of flair to this sombre headpiece.
It weighs 8 ounce(s).
This piece of clothing is for looks and style (but not for staying warm).
Xenomorph nods his head at Sherazad.
Sherazad says to you in a husky, drawling voice, "As part of our thanks to your years of service, we
give you this token of appreciation. A pirate captain's hat with the symbol of our monastery. Feel
free to drive out heathens from the seas without worries. For we aim to continue on what you taught
us and hopefully improve on your wishes for the Fist as part of our drive to excel."
Sherazad says to you in a husky, drawling voice, "We got your back in all your endeavours in Evil,
Daemonic Emeritus."
Sherazad locks her right thumb in her left fist, deftly sliding her right hand into an open palm
beneath the clenched fist before bowing respectfully to you.
You have emoted: Ruth slowly turns the hat around in her hands, appreciating the item before holding
it against the side of her body.
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "This is the unity of the Ebon Fist. This Guild is to the standards
Lord Sartan is proud to have."
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "Lets hear it for Lady Ruth."
Xenomorph gives up a round of applause.
Aepas gives you a respectful salute.
Sherazad claps softly.
Orzaansyn claps her hands together merrily.
Harmonia applauds you heartily.
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, contemplative voice, "Thank you for the hat. I've been looking for
one of these for a while now."
Uzhur lowers his head respectfully before you.
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "I would like to add its extra value, as the Garden had a lot of
trouble letting it go, they must have wanted it for themselves."
Comprehension flashes across your face.
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, contemplative voice, "Even better."
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "What was your favorite part of the House?"
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, contemplative voice, "The Mhaldorian sense of camaraderie, really."
Xenomorph nods his head emphatically.
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, contemplative voice, "In a Monastery setting, it is interesting to
see that the Fist is able to pull that off with the ideals we serve."
Sherazad says to you in a husky, drawling voice, "I have mostly learned it from you, Daemonic
Emeritus."
Orzaansyn nods her head emphatically.
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "Well, it truly has to be said again. There are those that serve,
and there are those that get into a status whether they like it or not as a legend, and thats simply
where you belong. The people have spoken."
Xenomorph says in a gruff voice, "Thank you for attending, Mhaldor."
You say in Mhaldorian in a quiet, contemplative voice, "Thank you for the short ceremony. I am proud
and honored to serve."
Edit: Oh, and this.
A guttural voice whispers in your ear, "Your service to My Ebon Fist is honoured in My eyes as is
your service to Me now. You are esteemed by your peers. Continue your excellence."
Sartan, the Malevolent has bestowed His divine truefavour upon you. ....
Family RP is fun. Whether it's mocking the heathens, or toying with them. Or dying in the process. :P
Honourable, knight eternal,
Darkly evil, cruel infernal.
Necromanctic to the core,Dance with death forever more.
I love illusions.
-------------
You look sceptical and say in a rich, contralto voice, "Anything of interest in the temple? I've only stumbled upon it once."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "The patterns carved upon the walls were interesting."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "I would have liked to linger there longer, if it were not such an obviously bad idea."
You look thoughtful and say in a rich, contralto voice, "Perhaps at a quieter time..."
Jiraishin nods.
You cautiously ask in a rich, contralto voice, "What was Suffering temple's like?"
Jiraishin pauses, searching for words.
Jiraishin Vastel says, "I have never seen a place with more depth."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "I have, perhaps, seen places of equal beauty, though none greater."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "But only perhaps."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "And never of a similar beauty."
You quietly ask in a rich, contralto voice, "Do you miss it?"
Jiraishin Vastel says, "Absolutely."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "I used to live there more than I did in Mhaldor."
Sybilla gives a curt nod of understanding.
You ask in a rich, contralto voice, "What was within?"
Jiraishin Vastel says, "So much."
The image of a dark hall expands before you. As it grows, the cobalt colour of its tiles and the grand height of its ceiling become apparent.
The last note of a requiem sounds in your ear, not noticed until it is gone.
Jiraishin lowers his hands.
Jiraishin Vastel says, "I could conjure illusions all day. I could barely begin."
Sybilla passes her malachite gaze over Jiraishin quietly, and returns it to the vision, studying it impassively.
Your eyes are drawn to a section of shadow which resolves itself into a young woman, her dark hair falling past her waist and her mouth open in ceaseless song.
Jiraishin Vastel says, "Umbriel, the Muse of Suffering."
You ask in a rich, contralto voice, "A priestess?"
Jiraishin Vastel says, "Only seen by those who look for her within the shadows, but heard by all."
Sybilla nods absently, pacing closer to the woman.
You ask in a rich, contralto voice, "What was her song?"
Jiraishin Vastel says, "A requiem, a lure, a breath of cold air on the back of one's neck."
A feminine voice whispers in your head, "I could offer you gifts beyond imagining... for a price."
Thoughts of wealth, enlightenment, and power flicker through your mind, and you know they could be yours.
With a flick of his hand, Jiraishin banishes the illusion. The song ceases.
Sybilla's expression clouds over, she drops her gaze and draws her cloak closer about herself.
The soul of Ashmond says, "Always with the sniping."
(Clan): Ictinus says, "Stop it Jiraishin, you're making me like you."
You feel the ivory beneath your hand, feel a spark travel up your arm. "Let Suffering be your guide and your witness," something whispers.
Images flicker before you and then die in a confusion of pain and grief, mercifully distant.
Jiraishin Vastel says, "The maze..."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "It's hard to call up a single part of it."
Jiraishin raises his hand, frowning in concentration. The fragments of illusion gather to show a hallway tiled with cobalt glass and lined with ivory reliefs, then a gallery of twisted, mocking, statues, then a ledge over darkness.
Retracting her hand as if scalded, Sybilla glances towards Jiraishin again, in shock this time. She regains a neutral expression and gives him a simple nod.
You say in a rich, contralto voice, "This is the ledge you spoke of?"
You stand upon an unlit precipice over a deeper, consuming darkness that draws you ever closer.
Jiraishin nods.
For a moment the cold void consumes you, and you feel a pressure clutch at your heart as if it will tear your soul to shreds.
Jiraishin lowers his hand. The sensation vanishes.
A sense of isolation overtakes you and you feel the need to find someone, anyone, to cling to.
A sudden surge of fury leaves you with the desire to stab the next person you see until they are nothing but a bloody husk.
You can feel the very walls watching you, judging your every action.
Geometric shapes form in prismatic colour in the air, revealing the secrets of the universe, but the answers to each equation are far beyond your grasp.
Without warning, the colours vanish.
Jiraishin Vastel says, "A taste."
Pale now, Sybilla responds with another brief nod, pawing idly at a small iron sheath.
Jiraishin Vastel says, "Ah... apologies."
You say in a rich, contralto voice, "It... hmn. Thank you."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "I was not trying to upset you."
A weak smile tugs at Sybilla's lips, and she shakes her head in dismissal.
You say in a rich, contralto voice, "Twas I who asked."
You say carefully in a rich, contralto voice, "In truth, it's not the first I've been shown Suffering..."
Jiraishin waves his hand, and another vision forms of the temple's cobalt depths. The air around you cools, and you feel purpose and pride with every breath, for a moment at peace with yourself.
Jiraishin closes his hand. The image vanishes.
You ask in a rich, contralto voice, "Why cobalt?"
Jiraishin Vastel says, "It was His colour."
You look thoughtful and say in a rich, contralto voice, "I never thought of blue to tie with Suffering..."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "I do not know if it has some significance. Colour seems to matter less than substance."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "But He wore robes of cobalt, and much of his Temple was built of lazurite or tiled with cobalt glass."
You say in a rich, contralto voice, "It sounds as something I'd have found interesting to witness."
You say in a rich, contralto voice, "If only cautiously."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "It was beautiful. There was much more to it than the maze."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "One of His eyes was always peaceful and intense, always assured."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "One of them..."
For a moment, a glowing ruby flashes malevolently in Jiraishin's palm.
Jiraishin dismisses the image.
Jiraishin Vastel says, "The temple was a bit like that. Both sides."
Jiraishin Vastel says, "And endless, endless, secrets."
You ask in a rich, contralto voice, "Did you learn them all?"
Jiraishin Vastel says, "Never."
The soul of Ashmond says, "Always with the sniping."
(Clan): Ictinus says, "Stop it Jiraishin, you're making me like you."
link below
"Slowly disappear. Never really here."
"Slowly disappear. Never really here."
.. the moment you realize that you're probably Mhaldorian IRL >.>
EDIT: And I had already killed Alcaro shortly before that >.>
"Slowly disappear. Never really here."
Stories by Jurixe and Stories by Jurixe 2
Interested in joining a Discord about Achaean RP? Want to comment on RP topics or have RP questions? Check the Achaean RP Resource out here: https://discord.gg/Vbb9Zfs
I tried to get him to kill her
"Slowly disappear. Never really here."
SCIENCE!
"Zii climbs over the top of the dead daemon, scalpel in hand as he literally dives into the beast's jowels, grabbing its massive tongue and slicing it away from the meat."
How big are Baalzedeens supposed to be, anyway?
NOT SCIENCE!
Arditi tells you, "Now what, may I ask, was that all about?"
Arditi tells you, "Hm. My Hashani is better than I thought, that was almost coherent."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Slandering myself, my family, and my city behind a poorly veiled guise."
Arditi tells you, "Prove it."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "You sent the letter to my grand daughter not me, snake."
Arditi tells you, "I have never seen this letter, nor the contents."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "I am not intending to argue with you about it, snake. Lie as you see fit, I may just choose to spill more of your blood."
Arditi tells you, "As amusing as it is that a completely fictitious letter that nobody has seen fit to verify to the accused has finally stirred Hashan into some sort of action, I care not for your threats."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "You are trying my patience, snake."
Arditi tells you, "My sincerest apologies, Seneschal, I am certain that I am undoubtedly keeping you from your duties."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Hardly, I always have time to eliminate a Naga, a service for all of Sapience."
Arditi tells you, "Now now, I'm sure Hashan's busy schedule of...well...maybe there's a court hearing or something that you could be attending. I'm not entirely sure what passes for business within it, to be quite honest."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "What I do not have time for is skipping along to the Bastion and doing arts and crafts with an old edition of the Bugle then quite obviously reiterating a conversation had right in front of me in attempts of using it as a poor attempt at proselytisation."
Arditi tells you, "Well then, I believe we can narrow the number of suspects then, if you're too busy of a man to do so."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "However clever you think you are being right now is just an attempt to cover for your unfortunate but not unexpected lack of subtlety. It is really quite embarrassing for you and your house, especially compounded with other recent events."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Do quit while you have some self respect left, but it seems Tvistor's supreme ego still lingers despite his migration east."
Arditi tells you, "I would think a Darkwalker such as yourself would be attempting to recruit me at this point."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Oh my...that is so very rich."
Arditi tells you, "And why not? If the charges against me are true, with an old copy of the Bugle and some paste, I have singlehandedly motivated the Seneschal of Hashan to take action, perhaps even starting a war. I challenge you to tell me that more was done with less."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Started a war? Hardly. I am want to tell you anything, nor am I a Darkwalker. It really seems the Naga have taught you nothing."
Arditi tells you, "And one would think that someone who rose through the political ladder would be immune to slander, yet here you are."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Does that mean I should tolerate it?"
Arditi tells you, "Apparently it hit a sore spot if the insinuation of 'nepotism' drives you into a rage."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "I have little concern for myself, snake. No leader is universally loved, you made the mistake of involving my family. As for rage, that is an unfounded claim as well."
Arditi tells you, "Of course an insinuation of nepotism would involve your family, that's the whole point."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Yes, it was ill advised and cost you your life."
Arditi tells you, "Besides, a claim of nepotism in your granddaughter's promotion implies that -you- are the problem because your bias influenced her position. So, explain how I would have involved your family if I claimed that her position was out of your machinations?"
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Well, I am glad you matured enough to admit your failure, you however were the one to make the contradiction in the first place. If you knew anything you would know my vote counts for one among many, no more, no less."
Arditi tells you, "I am certain you remained completely neutral and did not endorse your granddaughter's candidacy in any way, thus completely nullifying any suggestion of impropriety. After all, you're most certainly an honorable man and not a serpent."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Child, you act as if you know me. What little you know, you gleaned from the conversation had in front of you. You insinuations are baseless and empty."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "Let me teach you a final lesson the Naga seem to have glossed over."
Arditi tells you, "I'm listening, Seneschal."
You tell Dreadborn Arditi, Silvereye, "The soul of wit is brevity. You run your mouth far too much and expend what meager wit you have far too quickly. Banish that ego to the east with the rest of the dross."
Message #1056 Sent by Arditi
3/25/16:54 Your advice is noted. Allow me to close by saying this: You are a man who is undoubtedly close to his family, and such devotion is unusual in these times. Good day to you, Seneschal.
You nod your head at Reinan.
You say to Reinan in Mhaldorian in a low, growling voice, "Now hand me those.. rags."
You have emoted: Turoi stretches his arm out toward Reinan, the palm of his hand face up.
You say to Reinan in Mhaldorian in a low, growling voice, "The robes, Wretch. The robes."
Reinan raises a brow, and says "I would prefer to have something to change into.... in private... Benedominatus.
You say to Reinan in Mhaldorian in a low, growling voice, "I do not care."
You say to Reinan in Mhaldorian in a low, growling voice, "Hand them over."
Reinan frowns, and makes no motion to remove his robes.
You say to Reinan in Mhaldorian in a low, growling voice, "You are a Slave. You get no privacy."
You tap your foot with mild impatience.
You ask Reinan in Mhaldorian in a low, growling voice, "Or do I have to give you some.. motivation?"
You draw Roaring Abomination and slash the air in front of you in a single movement.
Reinan leaves to the southwest.
You have emoted: Turoi closes his eyes and lets out a pained sigh.
[I chase him down, icewall his room, he strips off robes and finally gives them to me, then I sternum strike him
"Slowly disappear. Never really here."
"Slowly disappear. Never really here."