Tur An Tiel--Bones of the Dragon.
NarlethDrider
First Post
Heh....u may end up w/an assortment of scorpy beasties to choose from
THE CLOCKWORK ASSASSIN OF XARITHEA MERLE
Infamous Sleurithian wizardess, and self-proclaimed "mechanist", the Lady Xarithea Merle lives a precarious existence aboard her floating airship the Dreams of Future's Past, an occasional threat to virtually all nations on Tur An Tiel. Her former colleagues from the Tower of Secrets still seek her death, the Golden Branch, the Temple of Light, and similar do-gooders seek to defeat her for the safety of Tur An Tiel, and other groups seek to seize her mad inventions, so that they may use them to conquer and dominate. In a recent effort to gain her some badly needed allies, Xarithea (who usually loathes creating something so "practical") built the Clockwork Assassin.
Like many of her creations, the Assassin seems to mix magic with some strange form of technology that defies many of the generally assumed precepts of the world. It takes the form something like a golem, though shorter, and far less bulkier. It is usually wrapped in rags. The internal compartments appear to be gears and similar mechanisms, linked together in a dizzying array that no one has yet been able to fathom. Its hands are in fact a group of lethal blades. The Assassin is adept both at combat, and subtle sneaking, but its greatest power is to lock onto a target and seek it out until it is dead, no matter how far the target travels to avoid it. As usual the exact method that Xarithea uses to create this effect is a mystery, though in a recent conversation with Lady Chiren, Bloodstone's Hand, she stated the effect was caused by divination magics, and something she called a "De-An-Ay Scan"...
Unfortunately for Lady Xarithea, her Clockwork Assassin has gained her more enemies than friends. While the decadent Hecuba Illius of Talossa has shown an interest in it as means to kill her brother the Primus Priamus, and various Quaesteri Houses of Seired Masa have also given it a passing glance, the most significant effect of the Clockwork Assassin has been to earn her the enmity of both the Society of the Slaying Sword, and the Skeletal Hand. The Society considers the device a codeless abomination, incapable of percieving the purpose and art in its killings--the Skeletal Hand views it largely as competition. Both have issued contracts to their agents for Xarithea's death, though as of yet, there have been no successful attempts.
So, like so much of Xarithea's creations, the Clockwork Assassin waits, a horrible concept who's time has not yet come...
Infamous Sleurithian wizardess, and self-proclaimed "mechanist", the Lady Xarithea Merle lives a precarious existence aboard her floating airship the Dreams of Future's Past, an occasional threat to virtually all nations on Tur An Tiel. Her former colleagues from the Tower of Secrets still seek her death, the Golden Branch, the Temple of Light, and similar do-gooders seek to defeat her for the safety of Tur An Tiel, and other groups seek to seize her mad inventions, so that they may use them to conquer and dominate. In a recent effort to gain her some badly needed allies, Xarithea (who usually loathes creating something so "practical") built the Clockwork Assassin.
Like many of her creations, the Assassin seems to mix magic with some strange form of technology that defies many of the generally assumed precepts of the world. It takes the form something like a golem, though shorter, and far less bulkier. It is usually wrapped in rags. The internal compartments appear to be gears and similar mechanisms, linked together in a dizzying array that no one has yet been able to fathom. Its hands are in fact a group of lethal blades. The Assassin is adept both at combat, and subtle sneaking, but its greatest power is to lock onto a target and seek it out until it is dead, no matter how far the target travels to avoid it. As usual the exact method that Xarithea uses to create this effect is a mystery, though in a recent conversation with Lady Chiren, Bloodstone's Hand, she stated the effect was caused by divination magics, and something she called a "De-An-Ay Scan"...
Unfortunately for Lady Xarithea, her Clockwork Assassin has gained her more enemies than friends. While the decadent Hecuba Illius of Talossa has shown an interest in it as means to kill her brother the Primus Priamus, and various Quaesteri Houses of Seired Masa have also given it a passing glance, the most significant effect of the Clockwork Assassin has been to earn her the enmity of both the Society of the Slaying Sword, and the Skeletal Hand. The Society considers the device a codeless abomination, incapable of percieving the purpose and art in its killings--the Skeletal Hand views it largely as competition. Both have issued contracts to their agents for Xarithea's death, though as of yet, there have been no successful attempts.
So, like so much of Xarithea's creations, the Clockwork Assassin waits, a horrible concept who's time has not yet come...
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THE GREAT ROAD
It stretches over a thousand miles, from Syra Cae, to Seilen. The vast road, built by Syran hands. A symbol of the Empire which once covered most of Eldheim. Built of solid brick, with spells woven in it by the priests of Syr, of Shuan, and of Turhan, it is solid, and has lasted the fall of the Empire in its farther provinces. The great wayhouses lay empty now, and the statues that lined the edges are often defaced, but the Road endures, the lifeline for many towns and cities...
It stretches over a thousand miles, from Syra Cae, to Seilen. The vast road, built by Syran hands. A symbol of the Empire which once covered most of Eldheim. Built of solid brick, with spells woven in it by the priests of Syr, of Shuan, and of Turhan, it is solid, and has lasted the fall of the Empire in its farther provinces. The great wayhouses lay empty now, and the statues that lined the edges are often defaced, but the Road endures, the lifeline for many towns and cities...
Very soon...
PRIMUS PRIAMUS ILLIUS
To begin with, one must understand that the family of Illius is mad, and has been mad ever since Akherius Illius betrayed the Sleurithian Emperor Aleixain IV, and declared himself Primus. Mad but canny, the City-State of Talossa has shuddered under their rule for centuries now, as its streets (covered in flowers at their insistance) run red with blood. Each (or almost each) Illius is mad, in their own, unique way, and in each case, they are dangerous.
Primus Priamus Illius XIII is a lanky languid man, who reclines on his throne with all the energy of a man who is about to fall asleep. He seems to barely pay attention to those around him, and so hates violence that he will not touch a sword, and surrounds himself with clowns and tumblers instead of guards. His constitution too delicate for even the mildest alcohol, Priamus drinks rosewater while his courtiers drink wine, and eats only the blandest, most flavorless foods--bowls of grain and milk--while they eat fine meats. He is a weakling, a mooncalf, a poltroon--and he simply refuses to die.
There have been over a hundred attempts to kill Priamus, most of them by his sister Hecuba, and all have failed miserably. Every assassin hired to kill him vanishes. Every poison fails. Every plot is discovered by the Primus's Eyes except the ones they cook up themselves, and those still fail. Somehow, this man who should be as easy to kill as a blade of grass is proving resilient as an oak. Many nobles are quite worried, and have become convinced that the Primus has some magical protection.
As for Priamus, he continues to live his life of quiet langour seemingly oblivious to the stir his surprising invulnerability is causing...
PRIMUS PRIAMUS ILLIUS
To begin with, one must understand that the family of Illius is mad, and has been mad ever since Akherius Illius betrayed the Sleurithian Emperor Aleixain IV, and declared himself Primus. Mad but canny, the City-State of Talossa has shuddered under their rule for centuries now, as its streets (covered in flowers at their insistance) run red with blood. Each (or almost each) Illius is mad, in their own, unique way, and in each case, they are dangerous.
Primus Priamus Illius XIII is a lanky languid man, who reclines on his throne with all the energy of a man who is about to fall asleep. He seems to barely pay attention to those around him, and so hates violence that he will not touch a sword, and surrounds himself with clowns and tumblers instead of guards. His constitution too delicate for even the mildest alcohol, Priamus drinks rosewater while his courtiers drink wine, and eats only the blandest, most flavorless foods--bowls of grain and milk--while they eat fine meats. He is a weakling, a mooncalf, a poltroon--and he simply refuses to die.
There have been over a hundred attempts to kill Priamus, most of them by his sister Hecuba, and all have failed miserably. Every assassin hired to kill him vanishes. Every poison fails. Every plot is discovered by the Primus's Eyes except the ones they cook up themselves, and those still fail. Somehow, this man who should be as easy to kill as a blade of grass is proving resilient as an oak. Many nobles are quite worried, and have become convinced that the Primus has some magical protection.
As for Priamus, he continues to live his life of quiet langour seemingly oblivious to the stir his surprising invulnerability is causing...
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THE ALL-SEEING EYE
No one knows where they are centered. Some even doubt they exist. But the knowledgable few realize that the mysterious cabal called the All-Seeing Eye is far from a legend. Influencing history--toppling nations--and observing--always observing, the All-Seeing Eye has for centuries now played its part on Tur An Tiel, seeking unknowable, and probably unseemly ends. It is rumored that the Eye's masters are not even human--but that is the talk of a hundred adventures in a thousand taverns. What is known is that the Eye's acolytes master mysterious forces that even mages fear.
And only they have any inkling why...
No one knows where they are centered. Some even doubt they exist. But the knowledgable few realize that the mysterious cabal called the All-Seeing Eye is far from a legend. Influencing history--toppling nations--and observing--always observing, the All-Seeing Eye has for centuries now played its part on Tur An Tiel, seeking unknowable, and probably unseemly ends. It is rumored that the Eye's masters are not even human--but that is the talk of a hundred adventures in a thousand taverns. What is known is that the Eye's acolytes master mysterious forces that even mages fear.
And only they have any inkling why...
THE PALACE OF PEARL
At the center of the Sleurithian Empire, it lies--the Palace of Pearl, all massive and gleaming, its walls of made of glass and pearl. A thousand people died, getting those pearls, died drowning and miserable, died so the glory of the Emperors of Sleurith could be demonstrated...
At the center of the Sleurithian Empire, it lies--the Palace of Pearl, all massive and gleaming, its walls of made of glass and pearl. A thousand people died, getting those pearls, died drowning and miserable, died so the glory of the Emperors of Sleurith could be demonstrated...
THE AZERAI INVASION
They'd been here for forty years already, before we'd ever known they were here.
At least, that's what they told me, and I knew them as well as any non-Azerai could know them, with their arrogance, and their distance, and their cold disdain.
Forty years, of plotting, and planning, and most of all--waiting. The patience in that action--it'd be superhuman for an elf, or even a Nibelung--and for them it was almost most nothing.
There were rumors--things seen in the Dragonspine Islands. A story of a strange looking "man" found in Seilen, who ranted for hours in a fluting, indecipherable tongue, before vanishing. And the Syran Navy (which in those days still went abroad virtually everywhere, as hard as that might be to imagine) reported the loss of ships, and was beginning to have its own suspicions what was going on.
But none of it was preperation for them.
I still remember their arrival in Talossa--aboard those great beasts of theirs, swords held high, their masks glinting in the sun. The Rose Guard surrendered immediately--which is often about the only thing they're good for. Still in this case, it was probably the wisest. The Crimson Guard of Seilen and the Imperial Guard of Syra both defied them, and all that came of that was corpses.
It was an amazing time, that first week. It seemed in next to no time, they had conquered everything that the Syrans had won over nearly a hundred years of war. And more. They had put both the Fiskerne and Slave Isles under their rule, as well as made good inroads into conquering the Elder Kingdoms. It was hard to imagine that anyone could stand up to them.
Which should partially explain why I accepted their offer.
I know that this causes many to view my family as traitors to not just our supposed city-state (though I had not been born there--hadn't even seen it--couldn't even see it), but to our world as well. But when I ascended as head of the Midacci, I saw that my house was facing grim problems. The supposedly vast fortune our enemies claim we created by illegal taxes during the rule of the Empire had never been as great as they imagined, being created in fact by legal means, and had through the gougings of the Illius family, been reduced to a paltry sum. My family members were in despair--many had commited suicide, or died of illness, and others had perished at the hired knives of the Five Families.
The Azerai offered me the means to restore my house, to refresh our fortunes, to once again rule as the First Family of Seilen. In all truth, how could I refuse?
I never understood them fully--or perhaps at all. And over the sixty years I knew them, even as I came to respect them, I never came to love them. I am told the Braelites wish me dead for following their instructions regarding sorcerers--and yet I alone of their governers ruled with an easy hand, giving clemency when I could.
Such is justice.
I am an old man now, and surrounded by enemies. If asked if I regret my actions, I must say yes. But at the time they seemed the best path open to me.
Perhaps the only path open to me...
Deiren Midacci, 1258
They'd been here for forty years already, before we'd ever known they were here.
At least, that's what they told me, and I knew them as well as any non-Azerai could know them, with their arrogance, and their distance, and their cold disdain.
Forty years, of plotting, and planning, and most of all--waiting. The patience in that action--it'd be superhuman for an elf, or even a Nibelung--and for them it was almost most nothing.
There were rumors--things seen in the Dragonspine Islands. A story of a strange looking "man" found in Seilen, who ranted for hours in a fluting, indecipherable tongue, before vanishing. And the Syran Navy (which in those days still went abroad virtually everywhere, as hard as that might be to imagine) reported the loss of ships, and was beginning to have its own suspicions what was going on.
But none of it was preperation for them.
I still remember their arrival in Talossa--aboard those great beasts of theirs, swords held high, their masks glinting in the sun. The Rose Guard surrendered immediately--which is often about the only thing they're good for. Still in this case, it was probably the wisest. The Crimson Guard of Seilen and the Imperial Guard of Syra both defied them, and all that came of that was corpses.
It was an amazing time, that first week. It seemed in next to no time, they had conquered everything that the Syrans had won over nearly a hundred years of war. And more. They had put both the Fiskerne and Slave Isles under their rule, as well as made good inroads into conquering the Elder Kingdoms. It was hard to imagine that anyone could stand up to them.
Which should partially explain why I accepted their offer.
I know that this causes many to view my family as traitors to not just our supposed city-state (though I had not been born there--hadn't even seen it--couldn't even see it), but to our world as well. But when I ascended as head of the Midacci, I saw that my house was facing grim problems. The supposedly vast fortune our enemies claim we created by illegal taxes during the rule of the Empire had never been as great as they imagined, being created in fact by legal means, and had through the gougings of the Illius family, been reduced to a paltry sum. My family members were in despair--many had commited suicide, or died of illness, and others had perished at the hired knives of the Five Families.
The Azerai offered me the means to restore my house, to refresh our fortunes, to once again rule as the First Family of Seilen. In all truth, how could I refuse?
I never understood them fully--or perhaps at all. And over the sixty years I knew them, even as I came to respect them, I never came to love them. I am told the Braelites wish me dead for following their instructions regarding sorcerers--and yet I alone of their governers ruled with an easy hand, giving clemency when I could.
Such is justice.
I am an old man now, and surrounded by enemies. If asked if I regret my actions, I must say yes. But at the time they seemed the best path open to me.
Perhaps the only path open to me...
Deiren Midacci, 1258
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