SRQ: Upon the Shores of the Undead Isle (Verillian, Ravok)

by **Mirage** on October 7th, 2012, 11:04 pm

Five days of travel from the ports of Sunberth could leave a man utterly exhausted and weary of life, especially when one was expecting to land upon an island where time stood still and the dead walked free as the living. Five days... Five restless days racked by harsh storms and turbulent seas that never seemed to settle. Perhaps it was foreshadowing of the outcome of this venture, for if the trip to Sahova was as unforgiving as this then what could possibly await then upon the island itself?

Storms grew stronger and more frequent the closer the ships sailed to the Island. Waves as large as the boat itself lashed out as streaks of lightning brightened the sky both day and night, but even so the crew acted as if this were all too normal occurrence.

"The island is cursed," some said, "None who get off at the docks ever returns. It would be best if we never came here at all, but the nuits pay good for the 'cargo' we bring..."

In the holds of the ships were piles of bodies, soulless sacks of flesh that would soon house the unnatural spirits of Sahova's undead rulers. None ventured to this part of the ship unless it was necessary, for even the hardened ship hands of Sunberth felt uneasy about handing over the bodies of once living people like themselves to the nuits. It seemed that there were somethings that felt taboo even to the hardened citizens of that lawless city.

33rd of Fall, 512 AV:
On this day the storms reached their pique, the Ocean Gallows creaking in protest to the beating they received. The ocean itself seemed to be turning against them, but worse still... there was something else hidden beneath the churning waves.

A sound echoed from beneath the waters, long and low that overshadowed even the booming sound of thunder. It shook the very ship, and caused the crew to pause in their work, rushing to grasp upon anything that was nailed down. Suddenly the ship surged, rocking back and forth violently as if being shaken by... something. The sound came again, but then the rocking ceased. For those brave enough to look over the bow of the boat they would see a darkness beneath the water, a great mass nearly twice the length of the boat itself and 3 times as wide. Ripples in the waves would reveal strange appendages, and one large round eye that stared up at the boat for a moment before sinking below the range of sight once more...

Silently the ships crew returned to their work, and would answer no questions on what had just occurred. It seemed like the deckhands would rather pretend that what had happened had not been real at all.

35th of Fall, 512 AV
The Harbor came into view in the late afternoon, and the heavy clouds that had followed them since leaving Sunberth thinned every so slightly. The waters had calmed somewhat as the ships docked upon the shores of Sahova. Silence filled the space, unbroken and all consuming. Even the deckhands spoke as little as possible, the atmosphere of the great undead city filling them with unease. Those who lived might fill it as well. It was as if some great weight were pressing down upon them, as if something large and powerful was watching. They were little more than insects, too small to even see the vastness of the tree that they had settled upon. Sahova... The city that stood apart from the flow of time. It had a fearsome presence indeed.

As the ships finished their preparations for docking a golem would appear from one of the warehouses near the harbor. It was humanoid in appearance, its red eyes shining with a cold light. It waited for those who would disembark to approach before speaking in a cold, metallic voice, "Welcome to Sahova. We were not expecting the next shipment of bodies to come so soon, and the number of hands has increased since the last shipment. State your buisness for coming to Sahova."

OOC :

by **Verilian** on October 10th, 2012, 5:26 pm

"Aye, them extra hands be here to see the Nuits. They're from Ravok," responded the captain who had come out to greet the golem. It wasn't long before others joined him on the dock, a woman with a mad look in her eyes, a young man carrying a large weapon, and a massive figure dressed in black armor bearing the emblem of the Ebonstryfe on his chest. It was the young man who stepped forward first, to address the golem.

"My name is Ansel Lazarin, of the Lazarin family of Ravok. This is Sylindra Ru'vin, of the Institute of Higher Learning," he said, motioning to the woman as he spoke. "And may I also present Gru'tral, Ebonlord of the Ebonstryfe. We have come to Sahova with a warning, and and offer to help, as well as to negotiate the exchange of certain resources that our lord, Rhysol, wishes to obtain from this island."

During the conversation the Ebonlord remained quiet, letting his lackey do the talking for him, but only because that was customary. When it came to the actual negotiating, Gru'tral would not hesitate to speak. The Druvin's eyes wandered over the landscape, looking over the citadel and everything in between. Gru'tral was as ancient as many of the Nuit who called the island home, though in his long life he had never visited the place, so much as anyone knew of that is to say. But he certainly knew of it, and knew to be wary of the Nuit's who ruled the place.

Of course, the Nuit's would also know to be wary of him. While they might know little of the Ebonlord himself, they would certainly know the reputation of the Ebonstryfe and the Black Sun. They served only the interests of their god, Rhysol, and beyond that the interests of themselves. Outside of Ravok, the Ebonstryfe was not to be trusted, and Gru'tral knew this. He also doubted that fear tactics would work against the Nuit. The negotiations were certainly going to be interesting to see.

For those who would be joining them, most had been randomly selected from the forces at hand by Sylindra. Whatever reasons she had, if there were any, for picking those she did were known only to her, but Gru'tral did not question it. In his mind, they were only there for appearances. If they actually said something of use, he would be surprised.

The Ebonlord's focus returned to the conversation at hand just as it was wrapping up. Ansel was saying, "...so if you could escort us to the citadel and arrange a meeting with your leaders, we would be most appreciative."

OOC :

by **Mirage** on October 28th, 2012, 11:35 pm

The Golem seemed to take a moment to process the information, searching for an appropriate response. After a short time it spoke, "The Council shall see you. Come this way, but do not stray from the path." Without another word the contraption turned and began walking up the path, heading in the direction of the citadel.

The Overseer would make its way across the docks, heading out between the warehouses to the open space beyond. Once past the wooden structures the citadel could be seen looming over the rest of the island far in the distance. It rested in the center of an extinct volcano, surrounded on three sides by the walls of the volcano's mouth leaving the only way inside facing the docks. The treck would be long, and the party would be forced to walk several miles before, finally, they would reach the entrance to the Citedale. As they walked the observant might notice strange sounds echoing from the ridges and patches of forest that they passed along the way. Golems patrolled the entire length of the path, all of which seemed to be armed for some form of conflict, though it could not be certain wether they were prepared for an invasion or simply protecting the path from whatever beasts or abominations might be hiding somewhere in the landscape.

The party would be stopped at the entrance by a large portcullis embedded in the main wall. The gates were more than 3 men tall and large enough for two large wagons to be pulled in side by side. The Overseer would issue a command, and the iron gates would rise, and the party would continue on. Now they seemed to be passing through a rather out of place garden path. Flowers of the strangest nature bloomed everywhere, but still there was something sinister about the sharp curves of their stems and the off coloring of the petals. Statues filled the area, depicting some of the most prominent and well known people of the Alahean empire. The Garden path soon led to another portcullis, this one slightly smaller that would only allow one wagon to proceed at a time. Several holes could be seen over the iron gates, seeming to lead up into darkness. If it came to it boiling water or tar could be pored from within the citadel down the holes to fall upon would be attackers, but it appeared that this had never been done for vines and spiders now made these openings their home.

Once more the iron gates would open, and the Overseer would lead the party passed its threshold and into the Vestibule, leading them down a long blue lit cavern toward the cylindrical TAR golem that spanned their path. With a wave of its hand the Overseer bipassed the TAR's questions, leading the group around and out the back entrance into the courtyard.

Upon their entrance a strange wailing would begin. An echoing cry that began as just a whisper, and then began to escalate, rising and growing until the very hair almost shook with its intensity. The Golem took no notice of this, and continued to walk down the singular path enclosed with iron rods pounded into the ground. Those who walked too close to this barrier might feel a tugging at their clothing, or hear whispered threats and gruesome words next to their ear, and those who set foot or put any part of themselves passed the iron bars would be instantly grabbed and tugged by an invisible force until they could break free. From time to time ghosts could be seen blinking around the space, many a grotesque mask of what they once were. All were a picture of some gruesome death or another, blood dripping from eyes or throats, whole body parts that looked as if they had been gnawed off by some creature. Some would blink as close to the barrier as they could, reaching out hands as if to grasp those walking along the path but then would suddenly be forced back by another, stronger force.

As they made their way into the middle of the Courtyard a figure would come into view kneeling over a broken grave marker. Her hair was a tangled mess filled with decayed moss and bits of earth. She looked as if she had just crawled from a grave herself, but even more odd was the look she would give those as they walked along the path not far from where she kneeled. Her eyes were filled with a darkness akin to a tomb that had not been opened for centuries, and from her came an aura of... Something almost indescribable. Narrowing her eyes she would raise one claw like hand, and in an instance the voices and wailing would cease and complete silence would fall.

From further down the path a voice could suddenly be heard, seeming all the louder as it echoed in the now silent space, "Welcome my dear guests. Welcome to Sahova." In the middle of the path stood three people, all nuits. The one in the middle, who had spoken, held obvious signs of decay on his face and neck, and upon his grayed hands. His hair hung down in loose locks of a greenish tent, and his eyes held cunning and authority, "I am Lector Qiao. The man on my left is known simply as Farke, and the gentleman on my left is Aelobius. We are of the Council of Five, and we humbly offer you our warmest hospitality during your stay here." Qiao's words dripped with an unrestrained amount of sarcasm, and the way his eyes looked over those before him it was clear how little he thought of the pulsers before him. Yet... He had been told that among those who dared venture upon the grounds of Sahova were also the esteemed Ebonstryfe and the Black Sun. And so his words reflected his suspicion in their motives, "I have been told that you come offering a warning and aid to us... Please, do tell us what it has brought you so far to where few living ever survived." A veiled threat, though a measured one as Qiao inspected each of the one's in charged, his gaze finally coming to rest upon Gru'tral. This was a man to be wary of, and Qiao could not help but hold a sense of respect for the fearful aura with which Gru'tral carried about him.

OOC :

by **Bojovnik Vybutit** on November 8th, 2012, 2:28 am

When Bojovnik first got on the ship he couldn't wait to explore it. Bojovnik had all his belongings in his rucksack that he had taken from a bounty last summer. The captain of the ship led him and the other adventurers from Ravok into their bunk room. A large room crammed with bed hanging from the ceiling to allow more people to stay in the room. Their we’re going to hot some nights. Bojovnik moved fast to find a cot on the bottom so he could throw his rucksack under it. He couldn't see if anyone he knew was around as getting on the ships had been trouble enough it seemed. Sitting on the bed for the first time he could already tell how uncomfortable it was going to be, hopping to limit his exposure to it for as long as he could he explored the ship.

On the third day he heard some of the deckhands talking about a special cargo in the hold. Curious as he was Bojovnik went to investigate. He found the door and just by the smell he knew what this mysterious cargo was. How stupid he must have been to think going to Sahova with a large group of men and not give the nuits gifts. Black Sun and Ebonstryfe may make a presence in Ravok but outside they don't have the same kind of power, just the fear that comes with them. Much of his trip was uneventfull and just plain boreing at times. Exploring the ship was great until about a week when he knew it inside and out. All it did was make him want his own even more.

Some days he spent talking with the deckhands learning about the ways of sailing. Sailing into the wind is faster than sailing against it. Stuff he had never known. One day he even tried working as a deckhand until the captain yelled for not getting half sails when he ordered them, after that he stayed under the ship for most the time.

When the port finally came into view him, like most others, rushed to the sides of the ship to look at the land of the nuits. Never being their himself and only hearing stories the place gave eerie feel. When at last the boat pulled into the harbor Bojovnik went down to his supplies and got his clothes on and started to strap on his weapons. First the belt that he strapped his axe onto. Then his long sword that he put on his back in a comfortable position. Wrapping the red scarf he had around him for looks he went back up to the top deck.

When the mercenary got back he noticed that a group of people were being picked by Sylindra Ru'vin to go with the Ebonlord. Bojovnik was surprised when she pointed to him and called Bojovnik into the group. It certainly was a shock and assumed it was because he was one of the few with any weapons on him, or it was completely random. Nodding he walked off the ship and got with the rest of the group. A golem escorted them to a group called the council.

The path to this council was strange enough accompanied with strange noises and exquisite architecture. When passing a walkway with rods Bojovniks gut told him not to go anywhere near they and he knew he was right when one fellow began to feel his shirt tugged and fell to the ground trying to get free. Bojovnik made a mental note never to come back to this place if he could. After some time three nuits came to view. The council of five they called themselves. "Why are their only three then?" Bojovnik said in a whisper mainly to himself. He figured this was the part where he was to be quiet and let the Ebonlord do all the talking. Catching hint to the vague threat that the Nuit council member made Bojovnik was sure to keep his left hand rested on his axe handle at all times now.

by **Verilian** on November 14th, 2012, 7:46 pm

The journey to meet the council was disconcerting, to say the least. Many of the party let out frightened yelps at one point or another, and Ansel even had to restrain Sylindra from lashing out magically at one of the more annoying ghosts along their path. Through it all the Ebonlord seemed to be un-phased. He was an interesting man, though few knew him well, and none knew who exactly he had been before coming into Rhysol's favor. Gru'tral had little to fear from mages and their tricks. As a master of leeching he could sap the strength from almost anything, with enough concentration, and unlike many leechers his Druvin state made him far more resistant to the negative effects of the magic than most. Gru'tral was an unpredictable man, a being infused of pure chaos, and it was only by sheer luck that they Nuits were seeing his calmer side that day.

When the three council members stepped forward, Gru'tral met them with an expressionless gaze. He didn't seem to react to the veiled threat Qiao issued, either, though many in his force did include Ansel and the mad mage behind him. No, Gru'tral just waited until Qiao was done, letting the Nuit ask his questions and speak his peace. Truly, Qiao was not the man he wanted to see, and Gru'tral was actually a bit offended that Mashaen had not come out to greet him personally, but it seemed he had no choice but to speak to the underlings first. When he did speak, his voice was incredibly deep, and boomed out into the silent space echoing around them.

"I am Gru'tral," the Ebonlord responded, though he did not other to introduce Ansel or Sylindra or anyone else with him, "Ebonlord of the Ebonstryfe, second only to the Voice in service of Rhysol."

The Ebonlord paused, taking a moment to consider his words. He knew very little about the members of the council, other than Zarik Mashaen who was supposed to be their leader. He knew Qiao was once Headmaster of the royal Academy of Magic in Alahea, which meant he was likely a formidable mage, but overall the Ebonstryfe's intelligence on the island was relatively weak. It was something Gru'tral intended to mend soon enough.

"You have something that belongs to Rhysol," the Ebonlord stated, skipping straight to the point. "But I believe that is something best discussed with your Archmage. As to the aid, and the warning. The Sylirans also want what belongs to Rhysol, and are coming here in force. They have a full army which they intend to march upon this island. We are willing to aid you in defending against them, if need be. In exchange, we hope to trade for what we came for, and then we will be on our way."

OOCHope this works. I just don't see the Ebonlord as being someone who dances around the subject of something.

by **Mirage** on November 16th, 2012, 5:36 am

Qiao remained quiet as the Ebonlord spoke, his full attention upon the creature who commanded the force before them all. Clearing his throat, a very "human" gesture that was done on purpose, Qiao spoke slowly, "The Archmage is a... Very busy man, and he has decided to leave matters such as this to our discretion." Looking to the voice that had spoken out before, Qiao narrowed his eyes at Bojovnik, a smirk touching his undead lips, "We three are here to represent Sahova as a whole. The others of the Council are busy with other matters, and so as not to disturb them, or the Archmage, I have come to negotiate."

The man known as Aelobius stepped forward now, clapping Qiao upon the shoulder and leaning forward with a wry grin upon his face. His features seem off, and there was a mad tint to his eyes as he spoke, "Well now well now, what is this? We have something that belongs to Rhysol?" It was clear he was talking to Gru'tral, and with a cackle he continued, "By chance it wouldn't be the Fragment would it?"

Then suddenly Aelobius was pulled back by some unforeseen force, his lips sealed so he was unable to speak. The mad Voider shot a glare at Farke, who simply stood silently where he had been, his arms folded over his chest. Qiao sighed and looked back at the Ebonlord, "As my college has said, we know what it is you seek. In fact we are certain we have almost found its location." This was a lie, but a well concealed one. Qiao knew that the shard was somewhere within the Catacombs, but even he did not know where in all of those twisting maze like caverns it could be. Though of course he did not say that, and instead offered a cunning smile, "As for the army, we are well aware, but they are of no concern to us. Let them come and smash themselves upon the walls of the Citadel, that is if they can even make it to the shores." There was a note of foreshadowing there. Qiao spoke with confidence, but it certainly was not unfounded. After all Sahova was a place for magical research, specifically for the aspect of war.

Turning slightly Qiao looked to some of the ghosts that moved about the space, seeming in thought over some difficult decision. Finally he did speak in a solemn tone, "We do not require aid against the infants that storm our gates, however," He looked at Gru'tral once again, a light of greed in his eyes, "What is this I hear of a trade? What is it you could offer us in exchange for this precious shard of yours?"

OOC :

by **Verilian** on November 19th, 2012, 9:14 pm

The nuits seemed more than confident that they could handle any Syliran force that came at them, something Gru'tral did not fail to notice, and from what he knew of Sahova it was to be expected. The place was designed to research magic to win a war between two forces greater than anything existing in post valterrian times. Sahova would make a deadly enemy, but it would be an even greater ally if they could be used against Rhysol's enemies. Gru'tral considered all of these possibilities as he listened to Qiao and the other nuit. Finally, it all came down to what the Ebonlord always knew it would. What could the nuits get out of giving Ravok what it wanted?

He was caught off guard by the fact that they were already aware of the fragment, but he did little to show it. Even so, it meant the Nuits had the upper hand. They knew why the Ebonstryfe was there, they knew that the Sylirans were coming, and they weren't concerned about any of it.

"We have mizas, but I imagine you have more than enough of those here to purchase a thousand fragments if you wanted to. But you might be interested in something more.. unique, a bid that the knights cannot hope to match. As I am sure you know, Rhysol gifts his followers with power from his own blood. You may have heard of the Dravlak. Rhysol's own children, infused with pure chaos. Powerful, deadly, and impossible to control without the proper knowledge. I would trade you a Dravlak for the fragment, and handlers to teach you to control them, if you like. And also, if things go well here, I offer the promise of future relations with your citadel. I am sure we have much to offer each other."

The Druvin waited for the council's response. He hated having to deal with the undead creatures. They were frail and weak, and he could have crushed any one of them like a bug if he wanted to. But even with all his power, Gru'tral knew he could not survive long if they all turned against him. He could only leech so much, and his strength was only so great. He was certain that his force could deal a heavy blow to the citadel with their chaon alone, but if they did, none of them would survive and Gru'tral had not lived five hundred years just to throw it all away because he was annoyed. He had no choice but to bride the nuit with whatever he wanted. Gru'tral only hoped that the dravlak would be tempting enough.

by **Mirage** on November 22nd, 2012, 1:04 am

Qiao raised an eyebrow at the offer. Certainly he had heard of these creatures of the Ebonstryfe, but he just as many considered them only rumors. Few came to the island to report of their existence, and if what Gru'tral spoke was true Sahova could gain quite a bit from studying one...

Turning his head Qiao addressed his companions, "A Dravlak... An interesting trade indeed wouldn't you say?"

The force that held Alobeius suddenly lifted, and he was able to speak, "We trade them a fragment of divine energy for an uncontrollable creature? We have plenty of those already Lector."

Qiao looked at Farke, "And what say you Farke?"

Farke simply looked at Qiao, "What you wish I shall follow."

Clapping his hands together Qiao turned, a cunning smile on his face, "Very well then Ebonlord. We accept your offer." Alobeius groaned loudly at this, but was ignored, "In exchange for one of your excellent creatures, and its handlers, we shall aid you in finding the Fragment." He raised a finger, his eyes glinting suspiciously, "However, while within the Citadel you are to only wander where you are welcome, and always with a guide. We would not want you... running into anything too nasty during your stay."

Chuckling Qiao extended his arms at his side, "Shall we make a deal Ebonlord?"

by **Bojovnik Vybutit** on December 12th, 2012, 9:46 pm

A shiver went up his spine as the Nuit seemed to make his statement straight towards him. "How the hell did he hear me?" Bojovnik thought to himself as he realized part of his arm was shaking. Once he noticed it Bojovnik forced himself to stay quiet and calm down. The nuits had this strange look about them and it was clear this didn't only frighten him. Other soldiers and mercenaries had pale white faces just by looking at them. Only because Bojovnik knew the Ebonlord and the other high ranking members of the group were powerful and strong helped to give him that much needed comfort in this strange city.

Bojovnik couldnt tell if the negotiations were going in their favor or not. It seemed like the nuits held the upper hand as the seemed to know everything even before Gru'tral spoke. Even if it looked like the negotiations were going the wrong way, the Ebonlord seemed cool and concentrated. Not only did this help make Bojovnik feel better but give him a sense of pride that he might just have picked the winning side for the battle sure to come. For the first time Bojovnik felt a small ounce of pride for being with the Eponstryfe. Maybe he liked that they had weapons, maybe he liked the looks who knows, but he sure felt safe in the group.

Gru'tral then told the Nuits of the Dravlak. A name Bojovnik had never heard of and was glad that he didn't. With the promise of further trade Bojovnik wasn't shocked that the Nuits agreed to the terms. The final statement from the council member was also just as synical as it sounded. Bojovnik would prefer to stay on the boat instead of this strange island. "Whats next?" Bojovnik wondered to himself.

Quest SRQ: Upon the Shores of the Undead Isle (Verillian, Ravok)