The weak sun dips below the horizon, plunging Mechitar into darkness. Although the city never sleeps, it is more active at night than during the day - as the undead upper class is not restricted by sunlight. Weak lights play amongst the city streets and pyramids, lengthening the visible shadows into stretched monstrous shapes. Undead of wide variety ply the streets with steady unchanging gait, and the dirges of Evil worship ring out from the cities many churches.
It is on this night that a small yet powerful messenger sets forth from a pyramid in the city's inner circle.
Gathroc, fully armored and mounted, rides through the surrounding nearby countryside. He currently is hunting a young vampire aristocrat who has repeatedly violated the feeding laws of Geb and whose destruction has been ordered by the Blood Lords.
Murmur plays his newest drum, the one he'd acquired just a few days ago, and sings along. Every verse is spoken by a different friend.
Come my friend, let us play
On such a dark dismal day
We'll sing and we'll dance
And leave nothing to chance.
I'll hide and you'll seek
Away, away, away I'll sneak
They'll never find me there
We make a wonderful pair.
You'll never leave me again
You have no need of your kin
Play with me, you'll never stop
We can skip, jump and hop.
What's that? You're tired?
Too bad you are required
I'll just strip you of your flesh
And you will join me, enmesh.
Forever and a day we're together
We can play no matter the weather
We're joined now don't you see
And we'll keep playing for eternity.
The song echoes through the ash-filled room. The rest of the house is little more than a skeletal frame, burned down several days ago. Murmur, entranced by the ruined building, had stayed in the room the past few nights. It was in a run-down, dismal neighborhood of Mechitar, just the way he likes it.
Gathroc, fully armored and mounted, rides through the surrounding nearby countryside. He currently is hunting a young vampire aristocrat who has repeatedly violated the feeding laws of Geb and whose destruction has been ordered by the Blood Lords.
With a rustle of feathers, a large raven lands on a tree near where Gathroc has temporarily dismounted to once again check the trail that he is following.
"Kraawk. My master would have words with you..."
At that, a voice like the rustle of dry pages announces itself inside Gathroc's mind.
Greetings. You will be pleased and honored to know that your skills have come to the attention of the Blood Lord known as The Shadow Claw, and he has need of you. As for your current quarry, you will find him in a shepherd's hut in the next valley over; he played with the residents for a full night before he drank his fill.
In turn, his neck was snapped whilst he rested, but I dare say that you would still be interested in staking him to make his death... permanent... When you have satisfied yourself, come back to Mechitar. This is not a request.
Ranged Touch:
At that, a small piece of card flicks out of the darkness, and lands in Gathroc's open palm.
The note will guide you to the meeting. Farewell.
At that, the Raven flies off with a squawk, and Gathroc is once again left alone in the wilderness...
...the only reminder of his strange encounter is the card which rests in his hand.
Murmur plays his newest drum, the one he'd acquired just a few days ago, and sings along. Every verse is spoken by a different friend.
The song echoes through the ash-filled room. The rest of the house is little more than a skeletal frame, burned down several days ago. Murmur, entranced by the ruined building, had stayed in the room the past few nights. It was in a run-down, dismal neighborhood of Mechitar, just the way he likes it.
As Murmur sings along, another voice, unbidden, joins the chorus, but this one echoes through his mind.
When I am alone, and quite alone/
I play a game, and it is all my own/
I hide myself, behind myself/
And then I try to find myself...
...and you have indeed been found, Murmur. Do not bother trying to find me.
The Blood Lord known as The Shadow Claw is aware of your special talents, and he has found a use for them. Your attendance is required at a little gathering that has been arranged for later tonight.
If you care to look at the underside of that precious drum of yours, you will find a note taped to it. That note will guide you to your destination. Don't bother trying to resist this summons. Failing to attend would be... terminal.
Farewell.
With that, Murmur is once again left alone with his voices...
With another day fallen to the darkness of evening, Euridicea awoke from her diurnal slumber, freeing herself from the haunting non-dreams that plagued her while the distant stranger made his carefree way across the heavens. His warm gaze, once a welcome friend, was now a constant burning dagger piercing her flesh through the black shroud she wore now. Euridicea moved past her momentary regret and began to piece together her outfit for the night.
Half an hour later, she exited the establishment she made her home when in Mechitar and started strolling in a random direction down the street. Euridicea opened the silk parasol she had brought, resting its shaft against one shoulder and under her forearm while her fingers became busy weaving a circlet from withered flowers. Her feet clicked against the cobblestones in an almost skipping rhythm as her lips parted to sing a soft melody to herself.
It was a feast that called them down,
Two ravens landed to pick at the crown,
Two vultures came next to filch a bite,
Two crows followed and started a fight.
Then a lone whippoorwill came along,
He sung a masterfully grave song,
All the birds took to their wing,
As the killer returned for the lost ring.
Euridicea continues to sing to herself as she walks, lost in thought.
With another day fallen to the darkness of evening, Euridicea awoke from her diurnal slumber, freeing herself from the haunting non-dreams that plagued her while the distant stranger made his carefree way across the heavens. His warm gaze, once a welcome friend, was now a constant burning dagger piercing her flesh through the black shroud she wore now. Euridicea moved past her momentary regret and began to piece together her outfit for the night.
Half an hour later, she exited the establishment she made her home when in Mechitar and started strolling in a random direction down the street. Euridicea opened the silk parasol she had brought, resting its shaft against one shoulder and under her forearm while her fingers became busy weaving a circlet from withered flowers. Her feet clicked against the cobblestones in an almost skipping rhythm as her lips parted to sing a soft melody to herself.
As Euridicea skips along, lost in her own world, her calm is spoiled when a Raven screeches out of the darkness, and dive-bombs her silk parasol!
Just as suddenly as it appeared, the bird disappears, and a quick check ascertains that the parasol has sustained no damage.
Sleight of Hand: .
In addition...
Whilst she ponders the strangeness of what has just happened, a sibilant whisper invades her mind.
Apologies for the grand-standing, but I needed you to stay still for a moment. The Blood Lord known as The Shadow Claw was owed a favor by your Master, and he elected to collect on that debt through the use of your services.
Worry not, Mademoiselle, that it will involve anything too... unsavory. Although he has heard of your bewitching beauty, The Shadow Claw has no personal interest in it... He is much more interested in how that beauty can be used on others.
If you look down to the hem of your gown, you will find a note pinned there. Take it, and it will guide you to your destination. Speed... would be preferable.
Until we meet again, Mademoiselle. Farewell.
With that, the presence leaves Euridicea, and the only evidence of the encounter that remains is the small rectangle of paper attached to her gown...
I make my way through the musty tomes in the bowels of one of the many churches of Urgathoa scattered around the city, grumbling to myself as I go about my work.
Twice Damned, waiting for number 3 to drop, these things do come in threes you know? Ah, what I wouldn't do to be my own again, I hate running at others beck and call. To be a... but no, that kind of talk will have me stuck in these cellars for another century at least and I am so close to getting out, it did take some time to earn their trust. I do believe that if I am stuck here studying for another century I will go mad."
I continue Rambling as I move up and down the book cases, not even looking up as I grab books and put them onto carts, almost as if I know where every single one is...
Having just followed yet another dead lead Vesta returns to her current home. She managed to find a hidden room behind a secret door in a deep crypt. She has since permantly disabled the door as she has no need for such devices. Presently she sits in the dark reading over her notes she keeps on her murder and a ledger containing the many names of those in her former city. Was her killer on this list? She did not know, but she was determined to find out. Though thankfully she doesn't have to worry about her own mortality she does have to worry about her killer dying of old age before she can extract her revenge. Of course if he is a professional assassin he may be gutted in the street for what is surely a list of other sins. Vesta reads the ledger then makes furious notes in her journal. She then angrly scratches through part of what she just wrote and screams to what she presumes is an empty room.
"D@mmit! Who are you?"
The intrusion of the discordant chorus stops Murmur in his tracks. He searches for the source, but can't seem to find anything. At the mention of The Shadow Claw, he hisses in recognition. He's had contact with a few of The Shadow Claw's minions before, but nothing more than in passing. He carefully turns his drum over and pulls the white card off the bottom.
With nothing on the card but the emblem of The Shadow Claw, Murmur shrugs and decides to ignore the summons. Yet as he goes to throw the card away, something tugs at him, and he stops. Maybe he shouldn't act too swiftly. Perhaps The Shadow Claw would find him a new friend, or some new toys to play with.
"Should I go? It could be fun." A squeaky girl's voice
"It could be a trap. Throw it away." A tired, gasping voice, weathered by age.
"But I'm bored. I want something new to do. A new game!" Another child's voice, a boy this time.
"Yes, a new game!"
"A new game!"
"Let's play!"
"Time to have fun!"
Convinced by his friends, Murmur gathers his favorite toys and departs, letting the tugging of the card direct his path.
As the avian aggressor swoops at her parasol, Euridicea spins the device in her hand in a shoo-ing motion at the raven, "Tsk, tsk. Within a storm of Corvus, doeth the thunder then sound of murder? In anticipation of such peculiar precipitation, the application of a little foresight protects against much aggravation." She twirls in place for a moment, parasol held stationary above her head while her gown hem flows in perfect circulation before coming to a stop as she feels a bump against her leg and a buzzing voice inside her head. Without modesty, Euridicea lifts her gown up to look upon the card pinned to its hem, rubbing the material it consists of betwixt two fingers. Another tune finds its way from beyond her lips as she lets the card lead the way.
Worry not little cheeky whippoorwill,
Come so bold to catch a feel,
Your secrets safe bound by law,
I'll make my way to meet your claw.
In the dark at the foot of the tomb,
A song of sorrow shall fill the gloom,
When dead men speak the living weep,
And all falls to ash in the chilling deep.
Ignác can be found on the southeast side of the city, rounding up unintelligent undead.
Gathroc scans the area looking for whatever threw the card. Unable to see what that may have been, he nonetheless says "It shall be done, Blood for the Blood Lords!!" He then rides off to find and finish off his quarry.
I make my way through the musty tomes in the bowels of one of the many churches of Urgathoa scattered around the city, grumbling to myself as I go about my work.
Twice Damned, waiting for number 3 to drop, these things do come in threes you know? Ah, what I wouldn't do to be my own again, I hate running at others beck and call. To be a... but no, that kind of talk will have me stuck in these cellars for another century at least and I am so close to getting out, it did take some time to earn their trust. I do believe that if I am stuck here studying for another century I will go mad."
I continue Rambling as I move up and down the book cases, not even looking up as I grab books and put them onto carts, almost as if I know where every single one is...
A faintly amused voice, not unlike the rustling of dry parchment, announces itself in Daemon's mind.
Well then, today might just be your lucky day, Daemon. I have no interest in reporting seditious thoughts to your superiors, but I do have a proposition for you: You desire field-work, and the Church has seen fit to grant it; the catch is, of course, that you need to perform a service for The Shadow Claw. I won't bother you with the specifics, but if you are really that desperate to get out, they should not matter...
If you take the third book from the end of the left hand side of the top shelf in front of you, you will find a most... unusual... bookmark; it will guide you to your destination.
Prompt attendance would be preferable; this offer is unlikely to be repeated. Farewell.
With that, the voice leaves Daemon to his own thoughts once again, although his eyes are drawn inexorably towards the indicated book...
Having just followed yet another dead lead Vesta returns to her current home. She managed to find a hidden room behind a secret door in a deep crypt. She has since permantly disabled the door as she has no need for such devices. Presently she sits in the dark reading over her notes she keeps on her murder and a ledger containing the many names of those in her former city. Was her killer on this list? She did not know, but she was determined to find out. Though thankfully she doesn't have to worry about her own mortality she does have to worry about her killer dying of old age before she can extract her revenge. Of course if he is a professional assassin he may be gutted in the street for what is surely a list of other sins. Vesta reads the ledger then makes furious notes in her journal. She then angrly scratches through part of what she just wrote and screams to what she presumes is an empty room.
"D@mmit! Who are you?"
A dry laugh echoes through Vesta's mind.
Who I am is of no import, although I am fairly certain that you were not actually addressing me... but enough of that. Suffice to say, your skills have come to the attention of the Blood Lord known as The Shadow Claw, and he has decided that they would be perfect to round out a little expedition that he has planned. Your... unique... abilities should be quite useful.
I apologise for my temerity, but whilst you were out, I took the liberty of placing your... invitation... to this little affair inside the back cover of your journal. You have my word that I did not read the contents; I was simply interested in leaving it somewhere that I knew you would find it.
Attendance should be considered mandatory, but do not think of it as an imposition; those who serve The Shadow Claw well, are rewarded well. He might even be able to help you with your own pressing problem...
Farewell.
Ignác can be found on the southeast side of the city, rounding up unintelligent undead.
As you round up another batch of zombies, you spot a rather incongruous sight: A zombie missing its right hand, with a sheet of white card neatly pinned to the flesh of its chest, staggers towards you, at the same time as which, a dry voice announces its presence in your mind.
Ah, finally. I was wondering when you would run across him. Let it be known, Ignác Takács, that your deeds and skills are of great renown, and have come to the attention of the Blood Lord known as The Shadow Claw. He has found a use for those skills, one which, fortunately, you will also probably find quite intriguing.
Take the card. Once you have disposed of these mindless undead, it will guide you to where you need to go.
Whatever you do, please do not dawdle. The consequences... could be unfortunate...
Farewell.
With that, the voice is silent, leaving you to your own thoughts.
Driven by the supernatural urgings of the card, your steps take you through the streets of Mechitar. The grip it has on your essence grows tighter and tighter and your steps become increasingly hurried. The path followed is direct, as though a flighted arrow toward the inner sanctum of the city. Ancient Osirion mausoleums and pyramids pass by as a guarded wall looms before you. Beyond it lies the noble houses of the blood lords and others of similar power. The gates are drawn aside wordlessly by undead servitors prior to your arrival as though they expected you; and are soon closed in your wake.
Your path ends at the entrance to a recently built pyramid (at least by the standards of Mechitar) that as yet shows no weathering. The structure is capped by an obsidian statue in the shape of a bestial claw, though that is the only external decoration. The entrance is flanked by two massive skeletal warriors, humanoids 10 feet tall and garbed in dulled copper armor caked in green verdigris. Their arms wield obsidian mauls, and their helmets are full faced but without eye slits.
You are inexorably drawn to enter the pyramid through it’s open doorway. Following the internal corridors as though you had lived there all your unlife, you are delivered into a waiting room inside. Once you enter the room, the pressure upon your essence relinquishes suddenly and you feel able to move under your own free will. The room is furnished with six simple wooden chairs, and lit by cold burning torches that hang in wall sconces. A number of tapestries in red and brown adorn the walls, each showing scenes of the war betwixt Nex and Geb.
"Interesting."
To a nearby Necromancer, "Carlos, could you finish up this batch for me? I've been called. It's important."
With that, Ignác will follow the card.
A dry laugh echoes through Vesta's mind.Who I am is of no import, although I am fairly certain that you were not actually addressing me... but enough of that. Suffice to say, your skills have come to the attention of the Blood Lord known as The Shadow Claw, and he has decided that they would be perfect to round out a little expedition that he has planned. Your... unique... abilities should be quite useful.
I apologise for my temerity, but whilst you were out, I took the liberty of placing your... invitation... to this little affair inside the back cover of your journal. You have my word that I did not read the contents; I was simply interested in leaving it somewhere that I knew you would find it.
Attendance should be considered mandatory, but do not think of it as an imposition; those who serve The Shadow Claw well, are rewarded well. He might even be able to help you with your own pressing problem...
Farewell.
** spoiler omitted **...
Having thought she was alone the voice startles Vesta. Her "hair" flies wide and spreads out as if in water as she instinctively pulls the shadows around herself and activates her ring.
Stealth+Invis+HIPS
Then she looks around her privy for intruders
Realizing there is no danger she allows the shadow to flow off of her and resume their normal "behavior." Still wary, but curiosity getting the better of her Vesta investigates the card with her silk gloved hand. Sure enough there is a card...then a compulsion. Having nothing better to do at the moment she gathers her ledger and diary tucking them securely into her vest. Finding her present predicament a bit amusing Vesta allows herself to crack a smile. She then flows silently straight up towards street level not looking where she's going or moving her body. Then follows the compulsion she finds in her mind.
Murmur's friends urge him on, faster and faster on the path. New games are coming, new playmates, new fun! Hurry, must get there right away. He rushes through the pyramid, paying scant attention to his surroundings.
When he arrives in the room, he looks around. His friends are silent, the urge to rush gone, and he's...disappointed. Where's the new toys, the new playmates? Where's the fun? There's nothing new here. He turns around to leave, but a cacophany of voices arise, all of his friends speaking at once.
"Stay, must have fun!"
"Can't leave, not yet, we haven't played yet."
"Fun's coming, it is, I can feel it."
"Wait and see, it'll be the best game ever!"
Murmur staggers at the riot of noise escaping from him and collapses to the floor. He crawls away from the door and into one of the six waiting chairs, where we not-so-patiently awaits the promised fun.
Not long later, the door opens, and in comes what he hopes is a new playmate.
Gathroc rides on to his target, whom he quickly dispatches and takes the amulet he needed as proof of the deed. He then wheels his mount around and allows the compulsion to lead him. As he enters his home city, he feels the pull grow and continues to follow, not much caring which Blood Lord has hired him now, for as long as he is loyal to Geb and Arazni, he enjoys the benefits of his station and abilities.
When he reaches his destination, and then makes his way into the room, he stands silently judging and sizing up the others who have joined him. Of those gathered, he only knows Euridicea well, as the two have met several times in the past, though he recognizes some of the others as well.
Vesta followed the compulsion and now "sits" in the chair silently.
Her hair and dress float as if she were underwater, shifting in calm unseen currents. Her garb is all dark colors, but somehow luminescent in a strange way. Below the waist her dress trails into wisps of fabric, but with no visible legs. Although when she moves her dress moves as if she has legs. Finally, the shadows in her vicinity seem to move with her. She herself cast no shadow, but for example the shadow of the chair will seem to be momentarily pulled along by the slow undulation of one of the wisps of her dress.
A faintly amused voice, not unlike the rustling of dry parchment, announces itself in Daemon's mind.
Well then, today might just be your lucky day, Daemon. I have no interest in reporting seditious thoughts to your superiors, but I do have a proposition for you: You desire field-work, and the Church has seen fit to grant it; the catch is, of course, that you need to perform a service for The Shadow Claw. I won't bother you with the specifics, but if you are really that desperate to get out, they should not matter...
If you take the third book from the end of the left hand side of the top shelf in front of you, you will find a most... unusual... bookmark; it will guide you to your destination.
Prompt attendance would be preferable; this offer is unlikely to be repeated. Farewell.
** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **
With that, the voice leaves Daemon to his own thoughts once again, although his eyes are drawn inexorably towards the indicated book...
** spoiler omitted **...
Perception
I watch the hand scuttle around the corner, and pause for a second. "Voices in my head and a bodiless hand, Hum, perhaps I have already gone mad? Would that really be so bad? I wonder..."
I make my way over to the indicated book and pull out the card leaving my cart of other books behind, muttering to myself the entire time. As soon as I pull out the card and feel the pull I turn and follow it, my prior duties forgotten. "Prompt attendance? From one stuck in the church for centuries? Does he really think I would say no? Expeditious Retreat!"
I dash out of the basement, through the church and out the front doors following the sirens call of the card.
I come dashing into the waiting room of the blood lord far faster then any (what appears to be) 55 year old man ought to be able to move, robes flying about me. As soon as I pass the threshold I come to a immediate stop as if suddenly aware that others are watching, and then make my way slowly and methodically to a seat my eyes passing over the others in the room.
Prior to sitting I face the assembled persons and introduce myself, "I am Necro-Lord Daemon, Cleric of Urgathoa you were all summoned here as well I hope?"
Daemon is wearing a loose, gray, floor-length tunic with a dark gray shoulder-cape clasped at the front. The lower half of the tunic is shredded but there are multiple layers so it is hard to make out his spindly legs through the tunic (though they where quite clear when he came dashing in earlier)
Prior to sitting I face the assembled persons and introduce myself, "I am Necro-Lord Daemon, Cleric of Urgathoa you were all summoned here as well I hope.
Vesta responds in a voice that is quite clear, but sounds simultaneously like several voices speaking in unision off in the distant. You imagine that to a mortal it's quite disocncerting.
"I am Vesta Shadowbane. My appearance should tell you much of what you need to know about me. However what you may not be able to inferr is that I am also an accomplished Shadow caster. Presumably we've all been called here for the same reason." She then pulls the white card out of her vest with a lace covered glove and flicks it to the center of the circle of chairs. The card lands in the pefect center and comes to rest with precision. (telekenesis)
Euridicea strolled between the looming giants, their dark stones silent monuments to Geb's ancient history, as she allowed the card to draw her forward toward her destination. She had walked these streets for centuries under her maker's yoke, so it was no surprise when she felt the magical compulsion tug in the direction of the claw-capped structure. She seems to talk to herself as she passes between the twin skeleton guardians, "Curiouser and curiouser is such a strange-shaped egg, what your mother endured to birth you from betwixt her legs? The chirping birds within struggle to be free, but which amongst them possesses the true key?"
The nymph made her leasurely way down the cold-lit hallways, trailing delicate fingertips across the smooth cut stone of its walls. Finally at the threshold of the waiting room, Euridicea snaps her parasol closed as she skips across the door frame, landing with a light step inside. Her large, almond-shaped eyes quickly drink in the room and all its current inhabitants. A familiar face, or lack there of, amongst the crowd sparks a memory within Euridicea. "Brave Sir Gathroc, a rare pleasure to see you here, though you have misplaced something again I fear. Worry not for this one has a spare, something slightly different with a bit more flair," Euridicea said in greetings to the dullahan as she fished in her bodice for something hidden there. After a moment's search, she pulled forth a small feline skull bleached white as snow. She placed her prize upon the table as close to Gathroc as possible.
Euridicea took a lap around the room once, to see all that could be seen before stopping before the short form of Murmur, "Little raven, little raven as black and mysterious as the night, what one would give to see with your sight. The lost lead the damned around and around, all to claim the fallen crown upon the ground." The nymph holds forth the circlet of woven withered flowers to place them like a crown upon his dog skull head.
Murmur watches the others arrive, silent and small in his over-sized chair. None but the last seem particularly interesting or do much more than spare him a glance. That one, however, speaks a delightful rhyme and places a circlet of flowers upon his skull.
"Ooh, I like her! Maybe she can be our new friend?" Nefi's voice speaks up for the first time in several years.
"She's a vampire. What kind of fun is there in that?" The grumpy voice of a town guard, dead some four hundred years.
"And she's a grown-up. They don't like to play games. Always so serious and boring." The boy's voice suggests a frown.
"But she's pretty and funny and a nymph - they like to play."
"I like her."
"So do I."
"Me too."
Murmur nods and looks to the vampire. "Thanks, pretty lady vampire nymph. Want to play a game? I know just the one."
At this point, Ignác arrives.
"I'm not late, am I?"
Ignác will take a seat, and introduce himself.
"My name is Ignác Takács. That's all you really need to know. Hopefully we can get this meeting over with, and I can get back to my work."
He looks at the others, one by one, appraising each of them. That much is evident without even seeing his face.
At the arrival of Ignac, a deep gravelly voice is heard though the speaker remains hidden ”All have been bidden to come and all have arrived. I am known by many names, though the only one I entrust to you is ‘The Shadow Claw’. I have need of capable servants to assist me.”
”In service to me, success is rewarded, failure is not. Through your actions alone will be determined if you are granted weal or woe.”
As the words weal and woe are spoken, you each get a flash of visions imprinted in your mind.
Woe: The child stands and walks away from you silently. The other voices in your mind wink out and you are left in dark oblivion
Woe: The image of Vemiar stands and begins to laugh as the forest is overcome by rot and dies
Woe: Your hand reaches out and removes the sack, but the assassin’s face is covered by shadow
Woe: As you reach for your phylactery, you are sucked away and locked in a dark closet. The impression of a century of darkness and inactivity is left
Woe: Your arms and armor melt away, leaving you naked and defenceless.
Woe: Your armor rusts and degrades, falling apart around you and you feel your essence fading.
”Decide now if you are to be my agents and swear to serve me by the blood and by the mouth, or leave. I have the ability to sever any links that currently bind you, but I am not a patient creature – so decide swiftly…” and the voice fades, leaving a palpable tang of menace on the air.
In a voice that sounds distant, yet clear
"For this weal I will serve."
Untrained Knowledge check
"I see. I will serve you, by the blood, and by the mouth, until my soul departs this Vessel. I swear it upon my armor, your task shall be completed."
Ignác will then rise to his feet, and stand at attention until further addressed.
Murmur's eyesocket's grow brighter, shifting from dark yellow to green into a deep blue as he considers the offer. It seems to be good to be true, and yet, the fun that could be his if the voice told the truth. And if not...this Shadow Claw held promise, to be sure. His foolish devotion to a goddess was a weakness, and perhaps eventually Murmur could use it to add a new voice to his collection. A Blood Lord would certainly be an interesting friend.
"I swear by the blood and by the mouth to serve." Murmur himself is shocked to hear his own voice speak the words. Yet that doesn't stop him from thinking, "But we didn't swear to serve him, did we, my friends?"
Gathroc pockets the skull, and nods his thanks to Euridicea. When the voice that apparently belongs to the Shadow Claw speaks, he listens quietly, letting the words sink in. The vision is enticing, power he knows would be his, unable to be taken away.
And then the voice tells him he must swear to it, and potentially sever his oaths of fealty to Arazni and Geb. In a voice that seems to issue from somewhere just behind him and sounds like a roaring fire issuing forth from an ancient grave "I will serve you, for the time being. But know that my ultimate loyalty lies with those who rule this nation"
At the thought of finally getting his phylactery Daemon's wandering mind focuses. His eyes narrow as he states. "If the vision you have shown me is true then I swear by the blood and by the mouth to serve you."
"I will serve you, for the time being. But know that my ultimate loyalty lies with those who rule this nation"
"As does my own. By serving me, you will be acting in accordance with their desires."
Euridicea scrunched her mouth in thought at Murmur's offer of a game as she hooked her closed parasol to the back of a vacant chair and took a seat, "A game or a puzzle or a fun time for all, spin fate on its side to make chance take the fall, and when little ravens come pecking at the chamber door, best to let them in before you regret the choice more." She rested both hands on the sides of her seat as they waited for the last guest to arrive. When their number became six plus more, the voice that crept forth from the shadows only elicited a small yawn from the nymph until the visions hit her mind. At once her back grew taunt as her nails dug furrows into the upper legs of her chair.
When the visions pasted, Euridicea folded her hands in her lap as she relaxed ever so slightly. When the Shadow Claw asked for a binding oath, Euridicea thought only a moment before tendering her answer, "Speak his name and the crownless king doth come, garbed in his finest raiment of power so fearsome, with words to bind the soul stronger than mere death, and promises of a retribution that steals the breath." Euridicea ran one of her sharp nails down her right palm, drawing forth a small stream of clotting blood which she laps up with one long lick of her tongue, "By the blood and by the mouth a oath is sworn, a new pledge to serve the clawed one is born, a time of faithful service is then owed, then the ending of it all a reward is bestowed."
One of the walls to the room you are in shimmers and gradually fades from existence. At the fading of the wall, a wave of negative energy floods through the room and you can feel a powerful presence despite the fact that the energy does not threaten to your undead essence. In it’s wake a larger room is opened up, though much of your view is blocked by the room’s inhabitant.
A gargantuan skeletal dragon is curled up as though a housecat, tail to jaw, with its impressive head laying directly before you. The bones are yellowed and weathered, and strung together not by sinew – but by sickly green arcs of necromantic energy. The bones also seem to be traced with obsidian tendrils, covering the bones as though a spider’s web. The edges of its frame are hazy and indistinct as though it were shrouded in shadow, though your dead eyes can view its full glory. At the creatures core, an insubstantial violet heart beats still, though it has no blood to pump, nor flesh to hold it in place. Its claws are tipped with copper points that are caked with verdigris.
The voice returns, issuing forth from the ravener’s mouth though louder now that it echoes around the room ”By the blood and by the mouth, your words will be your bond.” with those statements you feel as though an iron maiden closes around your undead soul. It is not so close as to cause you pain, though you sense its presence.
”I am your master now. You were gathered to me by another of my endebted. We will await his attendance before I lay forth your instruction” wispy tendrils of shadow flit from it's mouth as it speaks.
"Then I accept" Comes the simple reply.
An all-too familiar voice seeps into your consciousnesses, purring like the sound of fine silk drawn across itself.
I am here, my Master. Six were summoned, and six have arrived; as always, I do my best to serve The Shadow Claw.
As the voice echoes through your minds, a relatively insignificant-looking severed hand scuttles through the door on its finger-tips, each of its fingers bearing a plain silver band, and much of its back taken-up by a tattoo of the sigil of Geb.
To the six that were summoned, I apologise for the precipitous manner of your calling, but your presence was required, and discretion was considered necessary. It is a pleasure to finally meet you all, face to face.
The voice chuckles dryly, and then falls silent.
"All are aware of the ancient war between Nex and Geb, where the coward fled rather than meet his destruction. For age upon age our sovereign has sought his bolthole, death and undeath being no barrier to his yearning. From that date to this there has been no sign, and no hope that his righteous desire for vengeance would be sated.... until now"
"I know of the location of a mortal mage who holds the written history of his order. The lineage of his group goes back to before the seige of Quantium. Within this tome are words and maps. That information will prove the key to unlocking the seals that bar Nex's isolation."
"You will retrieve for me this book."
Gabriel then crouches down on his fingers, and listens to what The Shadow Claw has to say...
"If it takes six to retrieve a book than so be it. When do we leave?"
The ravener chuckles, a sound not unlike two stone blocks scraping past one another "Do not make light of your task, the mage who holds the book is accomplished and you will need all of your parties unique abilities to wrest it from him"
I immediately perk up when I hear that we are going to be getting the book from a mage, "A mage eh? Are we allowed to keep the spoils other then the book that we find there? I could use more spells..."
A wistful look enters my eyes and I look as though I am about to start muttering to myself, but I manage to pull myself together and look to our new master for an answer.
"I care only for the book."
"Foolish, cowardly Nex, it will be good to do battle agaisnt you once more" Whether he is talking about the mage or te country or both, none of you can say.
When do we leave?
A mage! Mages were so much fun to hunt, with their over-reliance on speech. Eager to be away, Murmur jumps out of his chair and dances briefly. "When do we leave and how do we get there?" The calm voice speaks in Elven, an odd contrast to Murmur's capering. "What details can you give us about this mage's habits, favored spells, hirelings? What are his strengths, weaknesses?"
"You will leave as soon as your questions are answered, and I will pave the way for your passage."