Dar Havark

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Wild winds swept through the desolate lands, earth carved up by unnatural means as they speckled the angry earth, jutting up like bloody knives. The land itself carried the faint scent of death, the occasional rusty weapon and human remains could be found if one simply scratched the earth’s surface. A battle had been fought here, dark forces had tainted the lands so deeply with death that nothing would ever grow, Jorel having ripped at the earth with his merciless hand, sprouting sharp talons chaotically throughout the landscape. Once fertile lands had transformed into rocky wasteland, impassable for most mounts… save for the dusty main road that led towards a fortress city of great significance from the north and the south.

A steel sign was skewered upon the main travelling route, pointing towards the silent city with Dar Havark engraved upon it by skilled hands.

Even from afar all eyes could see its stout walls, the hundreds of black flags, and the many spires that stood proudly under an immense black cloud. The black city of Dar Havark was like a malignant cancer that slowly consumed the Centripax. Growing silently from the depths of the earth, the intricacies of the Dark Lord’s abode mostly lay beneath, as tunnels and caverns linked to places deep and long undisturbed. What had once been hidden was now revealed, a city that would welcome all that was oppressed by the world with its grand spires and tall proud walls. In all, Dar Havark stretched out to almost 15 acres.

Shaped in as an octagon with seamless black stained walls sixty feet tall and ten feet wide, it possessed merlins eight feet in height with gaps two across and four in height as banners of the city fluttered. Located in the center of a moat forty feet across and ten feet deep, the water was unusually dark, hiding whatever secrets that sunk within. In truth flint earth spikes lay just beneath the surface, skewering any that would dare delve into its depths. Its impressive walls discontinued at only two openings, both twenty wide gaps where great gates stood, one to the north, the other, directly south. At each end of the octagon rose a tower, another ten feet high with vigilant guards and alarm bells, ready to alert dangers at a moment’s notice.

Along the great bridge of granite rose walls ten feet in height with spikes raising from the tops; and at these openings the main guardhouses defended. At the Gates themselves, a ten feet high addition as a pair of four roomed Guardhouses each with a stairwell to the merlins on the roof along with archery slots opened up. The bridge itself could not be raised or lowered, yet it mattered not. Any that chose to storm Dar Havark would need to run forty feet to the gates while trapped in a column where they would be ample targets for the archers upon the walls. Detailed depictions of elves garbed in robes of while marble set along the walls themselves; clasping to their chest a single rose as they looked out at the world like a ships figurehead

Within its very heart stood a bastion designed to be five acres and dug another 9 kilometres straight down, firmly secure into the earth as it rose to the impossible height of forty storeys. A large arching entrance greeted those of the greatest importance into its great halls. At each of the four corner points and two and a half acres across in the middle stood the seven great spires twenty storeys high, with the north being Dar Havark (main bastion faces north). Each were designed as a keep that could turn the ground within the walls into a veritable killing ground if its great walls were ever breached. Stout shielded walkways connected themselves to the great bastion, while other guarded paths linked from one spire to another, continuing with the pattern.

Arched windows speckle the uniform towers, strangely empty and silent, as balconies formed themselves in appropriate junctures, gifting its future occupants with a spectacular view of the countryside. Wells were put in place, drawing water from the deep underground streams that ran underneath, flowing to some endless place beneath the earth. Drains and other waste lines had been intricately built in to accommodate a future population of tens of thousands.

For those that entered into any of the empty spires, the first two storeys were mold into one, providing a large area for a variety of things such as barracks, a great dining hall, open areas, whilst the three storeys above it were larger rooms for future shops. Above were smaller rooms that would prove to be residences, each were named with both the room number and spire name. Four spiraling stairways were located at each corner, yet obviously there was still much to do in terms of moving from level to level. That would obviously come later.

Upon the ground, great gardens of ice and marble littered many areas as marble pathways provided safe passage over channels of water and glistening ponds, the lands within the city unusually fertile and flat. Though it was deathly quiet now, lifeless with its odd beauty, the gothic city would one day be a bustling metropolis, at least Avanthar and Kyoko hoped so. Still, the forces of Dar Havark would be sufficient, for the present, to maintain it until others summoned enough courage to set foot into the foreboding fortress.

Covering the skies above was a brooding mass of black and grey, issuing its icy breath upon the stone city. It was not to say the city was completely dark, yet light refracted down upon it very much like upon snow peaks. Like magic the many gardens glowed with in a mystical light as the occasional ray of light broke through, the city itself glistening with its soft glare.

The purpose for such a bastion at first was simply a defensive abode for the Shadow Lord, yet now its dark gates remained wide apart, inviting the curious and the brave to step foot while vigilant guards hung at the two main gates, ready to record all those that sought to set foot into the city. A haven for all manner of creatures, yet kept under strict, vigilant control by the organized Brotherhood, the city was constantly kept under watch by a powerful individual whom stood at the top of the greatest spire, looking down upon the world as if it was his. The Lord of Shadows had this domain firmly under his grip… the next step in his dark plans had now been taken… now all there was to do was but to wait.

OOC: DH open for NPCs and PCs alike!

[Desmodus]

[ooc: OK, I may be the mod here, but you have been Lord of Dar Havark for longer than I've been in Alleria, so if I post anything incongruous, feel free to request adjustments]

IC: Timestamp: 8th brightening of Aperitus, Summer, Era XI PF;
Paradigm: Church Troubles Darken Summer

The sergeant from the front gate guard detail would never have interrupted the Shadow Lord while he was at table unless something very important or interesting had occurred, and he anxiously and fervently hoped that his commander would share his assessment of the news-value of the strangers that his detatchment had in custody at the gate.

The half-orcish sergeant waited nervously at the door to be acknowledged by the fearsome Avanthar dra'Aran. As soon as he was bidden enter, the soldier would pull himself upright in the proud semblance of a confident professional NCO, stride into the room without stumbling or tripping somehow, and would greet his Lord with a salute.

"My Lord," he said in what he hoped would be a strong, clear voice that didn't crack or tremble, "Sergeant Vargauld reporting. My guards have in their custody two trespassers who walked up to our gate and asked to speak to the..." he paused to remember the phrase, and for a brief moment of panic thought he had forgotten it. It was a funny expression, one that a Conservator or diplomat would use. "asked to speak to the 'proprietor of this manor', they did". Even remembering did little to alleviate Vargauld's nervousness. He almost wished he had forgotten that phrase. It sounded stupid, and he felt stupid saying it, especially in front of his boss.

"If Milord will allow me to continue, Sir: The two trespassers are a human male armed with a bow and dressed like a woodsmean -but he ain't no Ranger, Sir, you can just tell- and a katta." Again, Vargauld seemed to struggle for words: "Not a Jagara or Tigron or nothin' either, Sir, but one of those slick tabby kattas. Don't know if it's a he or a she, though," he added lamely. I'm Shadow meat for sure, the poor sergeant thought to himself, even as he kept his body held proudly and confidently at attention.

"They say they are the leaders of a band of...adventurers who operate in the woods around here. They say they wanted to come to a" and now he had to wrack his brains for one of those stupid Conservator phrases again: "The tabby katta said something about a 'muchily superficial arraignment' or somethin' like that. I don't know what they're on about, Sir, but these are the oddest trespassers I've had come to the gates in a while. They didn't seem too upset being surrounded and taken into custody- at least the tabby katta didn't. Seemed quite calm."

Vargauld seemed to be quite flustered at this point, and fell silent. He scanned the face of his Shadow Lord carefully, as if trying to figure out how his boss was going to kill him.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Fear was not a weapon he used against his loyal followers, trust and loyalty were far more important for a band forced to rely upon each other and survive. The Necromancer’s hopes for a city where a mixture of races could abide together and work against Jorel’s minions was slowly coming into fruition. Even now, as the necromancer stalked the empty halls of the center spire he thought of many things. Avanthar was a changed man, yet much of himself remained to be the dracon, the youngster forced to survive in a hate filled world… and then a part of himself was the chaotic demon that even now sought to escape from mental confines.

Garbed in princely regalia, the shadow knight said nothing as the door to one of the many chambers was opened. His expressions hidden beneath the cool visage of a black mask, the fear however was evident upon the sergeant. Avanthar was not surprised, for certainly without him unleashing his powers he radiated an intense aura of dread that that could not be cloaked. As cold striking blue eyes regarded him like sharp daggers, Avanthar watched as he stood and saluted with efficiency. It was one of disapproval and surprise… an odd mix.

‘Remember what we strive to achieve here by opening our gates… they are not trespassers if we allow them entry… yet… we must remain wary of who passes are gate. Spies for the empire and the church… shall be dealt with…’

Ignoring the stuttering and his extra words, Dra’Aran was always one that preferred to be direct. Still the news that Vargauld brought was positive in that they had attracted the attention of possible candidates, useful additions to what Dar Havark would one day become. Turning towards the door, the powerful Nemesis at his side as it beamed evilly at the sergeant. Perhaps the mortal man would be even more terrified to know that four wraiths stood around him, the eternal guardians of the shadow knight, invisible to the eyes of mortal.

‘Bring them… and ensure that those of the gate remain vigilant… we are always hospitable… to our guests…’

Sending the Sergeant off, Dra’Aran glanced in the shadows to his left where two figure hid within the shadows. Nodding at the Lord, the leader of the Blades of Anguish, Sorrav, smirked revealing perfect white teeth. Another figure, garbed also in tight black armor more for stealth and speed was Rishk, a dangerous black katta whom absently sharpened his claws with a keen dagger… somewhat oblivious to the coming and goings of Dar Havark. Both however were extremely dangerous and experienced… exactly the way Avanthar liked his loyal brothers to be…

OOC: I’m very free with how things are done… lol… I work well with most things so don’t worry about it too much.

[Desmodus]

Fear may not have been a weapon Avanthar used consciously upon his subordinates; nonetheless, it would have been quite a remarkable thing were poor Sergeant Vargauld anything other than extremely intimidated by his legendary commander and lord. He had also picked up the disapproval and surprise in Avanthar's icy gaze. Consequently, he was greatly relieved when Avanthar spoke and sent him on his way to have the latest guests brought in. With another salute he turned around and left to do what his lord had requested. As he walked out the door, the sergeant recalled the bit about spies being "dealt with", and he hoped that the Persettie at the gate turned out to be one. That katta really rubbed Vargauld the wrong way.

A few minutes later, there was again a knock at the door, and then they opened to two hulking guards flanking two other considerably smaller forms, with the half-orc sergeant standing in front of them. Both forms carried no visible weapons, but the smaller one clutched some sort of valise as if its life depended upon it. Vargauld stepped forward and saluted again. "Milord, the two guests have arrived," he announced somewhat unnecessarily before stepping aside and indicating that they were to step forward so that Avanthar could get a look at them.

The human who stood to Avanthar's left was tall and lanky. He had a round, almost goofy-looking face topped by straight black hair that was cut too short, so that it stuck out in places. An untrained eye might have dismissed him as an awkward kid of no more than twenty patterns, but Avanthar could see in the roughness of his skin, the scars on his arms, the taut ropiness of his muscles, and the way he carried himself, that this man was neither young nor awkward. He stepped forward and greeted Avanthar with a grace, confidence and poise that belied his clumsy beanpole exterior: "Serale, Lord Avanthar, if I guess your name aright. My name is Rellik, and I lead a small band of adventurers that are active here in this neck of the Dolwoods. I doubt that you've heard of us, but I assure you that the authorities in Primus Gaudeo have, and they don't like us very much. We have a certain amount of experience in acquiring goods from both individual travellers and caravans who come this way, you see." He paused here to allow himself a big grin.

"Well, we came here to offer our services to your Lordship, ummm" Rellik trailed off here and for the first time his confidence wavered a bit. His boyish face wrinkled in a frown of somebody not quite sure how to put what he was about to say next. In his uncertainty he looked over at his companion as if for help.

That companion was a Persettie with resplendent, immaculate platinum blond fur and large bright eyes, one of which was blue and the other green. Those who knew their katta as Sergeant Vargauld apparently did not would have recognized him as male. He now came forward to address Avanthar for the first time. Giving a deep, courtly bow, he purred in a voice as silky as his fur: "Seraaa, Lord Avanthar of Dar Havar. My name is Mmawrrh-Hriss Arrin, but most of my non-katta associates simply call me 'Morris', and My Lordship is welcome to do the same."

Morris straightened himself up to look at Avanthar and those who were with him appraisingly, as if trying to figure out who here had real influence. "What my associate Rellik means is that we think we can help you acquire the goods you will need as your citadel expands. You see, Rellik's outfit knows this area extremely well, and excels in stalking and ambushing caravans.

"I myself am a clerk rather than a katta of action. I am in contact with certain interests in Primus Gaudeo whose goals are more compatible with our activities than are those of the authorities there. I am also something of an artist, at your pleasure, sir" Morris gave another bow as he said this. He obviously took some delight in referring to himself as an artist.

"Perhaps My Lordship is wondering what use he could have for an artist and a clerk, and also what one of my talents is doing associating with men who are, for want of a more polite term, highwaymen. Perhaps the best way to explain is for me to show your Lordship some of my work, if you will allow it." The katta raised and opened his valise, and produced a piece of high-quality paper. Even from across the room, Avanthar could see that it was not any sort of drawing, but that it actually looked like some sort of form or list. "I am somewhat proud of this one. I call it 'Still Life with Order from Medonia for Silver Ingots. If I may respectfully submit, sir, that the best way for you to appreciate the possible value my artwork could have for your Lordship is to look at it for yourself." The katta held up this 'artwork' which looked suspiciously like an order form from a merchant house and glanced about at the guards and at Avanthar's attendants expectantly, as if he thought they were going to jump up and pass his treasured masterpiece to the Lord of Dar Havark.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Avanthar was still an impressive figure, though he now lacked the size and bulk back in the days when he was still a Half-Cyraxian. With his hand casually placed on the black hilt of Nemesis, his sword of death dimmed its dread aura as it too was curious to meet these guests. As they entered he said nothing, though he had observed a slight irritation from Vargauld. The pair were an odd mix, a human and a katta. Rishk, the pantheri, glanced up, his murderous eyes sparked with a hint of malice…

Calmly regarding the pair, Avanthar dug his icy blue eyes into their very souls as the Necromancer measured them. Having endured through the darkest alleys and wildest battles, Dra’Aran was very much the veteran of the streets. What were mere ruffians when one had battled demons? Acknowledging the man as a man of the streets, he was mildly surprised that they knew his name. Having kept his identity secret, very few knew of his assault on Abestat, his invasion against Zerdagia, and the destruction of Diana… perhaps it was from other sources?

To all appearances Dra’Aran was a knight, others would see him as something else, yet few knew that Avanthar was adept in business, possessing well secured treasures, and mingled with the most powerful and influential nobles in the empire. Smirking behind his mask at this, Morris, his court speech and well groomed appearance was not all that special to the knight. Enduring it without a word, he listened, finding Morris slightly irritating, though he hid it far better than Vanguald. Retaining his stance like a noble, he contemplated what was said before formulating his reply.

‘First… I would like to welcome you to Dar Havark… ’

His speech was cold, carrying an educated edge that seemed directed more to Morris than Rellik. There was a hint of something dangerous in the way he regarded the two, the subtlety noticed by the pair at the walls. Continuing on in a lighter tone, Avanthar had pondered on how he would deal with those seeking residence in his domain. These adventurers were certainly not ready to join the fold of the Brotherhood. Avanthar demanded discipline, honor, and trust.

‘I am afraid however that I cannot accept your… service, until I am satisfied that you meet our requirements. I shall, however, explain more on how Dar Havark shall be run. Here, we offer residence, yet in return we desire some sort of payment and basic duties in the normal day to day running here.

‘How you choose to gain your goods however isn’t a concern, though we are happy to ‘trade’ with whatever goods you may have… and in doing so you may earn a source of revenue from us whilst also paying for your stay here. We shall remain as separate groups, not personally liable for any actions you take outside Dar Havark… yet we will ensure all who reside within our bounds are kept safe… the Brotherhood will maintain order here.’

Turning to Morris, with one hand the ‘artwork’ was lifted out of his hand, carried by one of the invisible wraiths. Glancing at it with a practiced eye, he indicated for the specter to return it. Again the masked Lord smirked, slightly surprised to find such an ‘artist’ to be within such rabble, yet not entirely excited over the whole deal.

‘Morris… we shall discuss more further, but you, like the others, will maintain resident status for the present in return for slight payment. Perhaps you have underestimated my own connections that not only expand to Primus Gaudeo, but the entire empire as a whole. I have powerful friends and allies, both within the army and nobility… yet from what I can see your ‘skill’ is not trivial…’

Possessing a wide range of holdings and goods, mere sums of money seemed trivial to the Lord. No, he found the skills and abilities of this band far more interesting and useful. A city diverse in power and talent would attract far more than the other cities, and it was the skills that others would bring that Avanthar needed. Here he possessed all the basic needs a settlement needed, trading with Herozzal and other cities had long been set in motion.

‘May I ask how many men you bring here? If you agree to our terms then I shall assign you all rooms within one of the spires for the moment… whilst we register you all. I may eventually pick those I find qualified to be in my service… but know this… any… who dare betray me or the interests of Dar Havark shall be punished… harshly…’

The last was spoken, yet it was felt by the pair as Avanthar let loose a small portion of his dark powers. An immense aura of chill struck them, an unshakable sense of dread filling their hearts as fear and terror began to register, their most primitive senses ringing alarms of danger. With eyes aglow with power, the room almost seemed to shake, the thought of running flashing in their minds… yet dismissed by the fact that they would be hunted. There was no way that the Shadow Lord would let them betray Dar Havark…

OOC:
At the moment I plan to let everyone pay a small rent for their stay and use of our resources as I don’t think its good to sell bits and pieces of Dar Havark yet. ^^ Do you mind if I get a list of NPC and numbers so I can plan on where I wish to put them?

[Desmodus]

The lanky, youthful-looking bandit leader and the platinum-blond-furred Persettie both listened to the imposing Lord of Dar Havark anxiously. As Avanthar outlined what he was and was not willing to offer, both Rellik and Morris seemed slightly surprised. They had not come to request residence or asylum; they had simply wanted to do business. Even without consulting a Mystic, it was apparent from Rellik’s expression, the way he nodded while watching Avanthar intently and scratching his chin, that he was actually weighing the Dark Lord’s offer. A base of operation that was relatively safe from Imperial or Provincial authorities had quite a bit of value for his little band, and could apparently be purchased for money, with no real requirement of fealty. Depending on how much money that turned out to be, this could be a useful arrangement for the brigand leader.

Morris, on the other hand, simply appeared to be waiting for Avanthar to finish talking. He gasped quietly in surprise when the paper was whisked out of his hand invisibly, but he recovered fairly quickly from the shock. Apparently, this was not the katta’s first brush with Arcana. The order form looked quite authentic when Avanthar inspected it, complete with proper-looking seals and stamps, and the signatures of two different officials in different hands and with different-colored inks. If he knew what to look for, Avanthar would even see that the form was written out on Jenapple-made paper. Quite a work of “art”, indeed.

As the specter returned the document to Morris, and Avanthar addressed him, the Persettie watched the still-impressive warlord impassively with his mismatched eyes. He bowed graciously and put the paper back into his valise as Avanthar continued to speak.

When the archmage unleashed his chill, uncanny wave of power, it was obvious that both visitors had felt it and were affected by it, though neither were overwhelmed. Morris’ katta eyes widened in a look that contained both recognition and respect on top of the obvious flash of fear that Lord Dar Havark’s little trick had instilled. Rellik continued to scratch his chin thoughtfully for a moment, and after a pause, he was the first to break the silence following the chill Avanthar had sent through the room.

”To answer your question, sir, I have fourteen counting myself, but not counting Morris here, who will give you his own answer. Your offer sounds alright in principle, but I’d like to agree on how much before I decide.”

After he had finished, the Persettie bowed and spoke in tones as silky as his fur: ”Forgive me, sir, but I myself must decline Your Lordship's generous offer for the moment, as I have other errands to run that require my presence elsewhere. I shall return in good time, however.” He paused here, but unfortunately, it was obvious that he had more to say.

”I am afraid I may have explained poorly when I spoke of my connections. I do not merely mean that we have connections in general, but that I am in contact with a particular set of influential people in Primus Gaudeo who have expressed some interest in associating with Your Lordship. I come to you as much on their behalf as I do my own and Rellik’s.” Here the katta made a slightly apologetic gesture.

”They did not, however, give me a letter or message for you, sir. They first wanted me to verify what they had heard about Dar Havark and its Lord. I am going to Acumin soon for a couple brightenings; then I shall send word back to Primus Gaudeo. I hope, Gentle Master, to have a message directly from my contacts for you by the end of the cycle.”

With that, the sleek-furred, slick-toned katta finally appeared to have finished.

[ooc: As soon as you tell Rellik the details of what it will cost, I will tell you more about his band, as well as how many other NPCs come knocking at your door.]

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Dra’Aran had offered such a deal as a means of attracting skilled men and women to Dar Havark, and from there eventually recruit them into the fold of the Brotherhood as elites. The income from the rent would help fund other ventures, while it would still fall upon others to pay for other living expenses. It was opportunistic for Avanthar as he had supply of wheat and other materials that he could re-sell to the men and women of Dar Havark, and thus he firmly held the economy of the town in check. Yes, it would work… and oddly enough he knew it was against some of the imperial laws… but then again Dar Havark was his sole property.

Rishk, the Cheetara, regarded Morris with his dark stare, the battle bred assassin never liked the Persettie. Every inch of the katta seemed to irritate him, and to Avanthar too, for both valued personal strength and valor over looks and manners. Morris was very much court bred and use to the intrigues of politics, the knight knew his type, ones that used others to see their means through. The knight frowned upon such things, yet his skills would be useful in the long run… but in order for that to happen Avanthar would need to place constant checks on him.

‘Fourteen… that is sufficient… for the moment I’ll charge 15 crowns for a single room… 30 crowns with a room large enough to fit three people… and of course larger rooms shall be more expensive, most like 50 crowns. I will however add an extra incentive… for every extra person you bring to reside here I shall offer 5 crowns for your efforts…’

‘If you so choose to move in now we will prepare the south spire for you, the one before the southern gate.’

The Persettie continued his speech, Dra’Aran fighting off mild irritation. Refusing to reveal more about his connections with Primus Gaudeo, suffice to say he owned one of the largest and more lavish establishments within the city that allowed him access to a wealth of information normally hidden from the common man. Nodding at his words, Avanthar would be patient to see just what Morris could bring to Dar Havark.

‘I shall await your return… Morris… know that I am always eager to seek more opportunities for a variety of things, whatever it takes to secure what I hope to build here, a unique city that will hold a myriad of races in peace. That, and the hope that the empire’s most skilled will eventually reside here…’

… rather than continuing, the hope that he would recruit the strongest and most cunning into his fold would remain hidden for now. Indicating to Vargauld that he was to lead them out and help Rellik with the accommodation and the registration. Eventually the registration would be a means for them to choose likely candidates…

[ooc: Koolies! I’m all for it... here’s a draft of the registration… its both for IC recording purposes and OOC for NPCs~ ^^]

Name:
Age:
Race:
Skills:
Resident Number:
Spire – Room:

[Cerius]

Dar Havark.


The city was a blight on the earth, a black mole rising up to greet the suns of Telath defiantly, as though it did not realise it was far outdone by the brilliance of light. From the elf's aerial vantage point, spotting the city was not difficult. Absent mindedly, he reinforced the defenses, adding to his Holy Armour with a swirling maelstrom of holy energy, designed to sweep any projectile off mark. It was perhaps not the most inconspicious way to enter Dar Havark, a being of Aetherial power descending in a whirlwind of Life. His wings slowed his descent well enough - that was one of the first things the elf had learnt. His armour was all but unrecognisable, and rightly so. It was modelled on the ancient styles of the Knights of the Eternal Flame, ancient warrior-mages dedicated to the glory of the Prince of Aetheria.

The elf's feet touched the ground lightly as he completed his descent, but he kept his armour up still as he walked towards the gates.

"AVANTHAR!"

Cerius voice boomed, enhanced by the powers of Life. Any of the dracon's lackeys who dared attack the thaumaturgist would receive Invoke Penitence in retaliation. The elf was here for one reason and one reason alone - to find out why Avanthar had attacked Diana for long enough to relieve the Prelates, when he could have levelled the city. If all went well, Cerius would be leaving the city with a new ally in his war against the Chaos.

[Desmodus]

Morris, for once, had the sense to keep his mouth shut, and the platinum-furred tabiri simply bowed and took his leave. A Persettie of breeding knew when he had been dismissed by his betters.

Rellik seemed to be quite pleased with Avanthar's offer and grinned his 'Thank you' at the dread warlord. "That's an excellent deal, Sir," he said. "I'll speak to my men. I could just tell them to come, and they would; for a change this big, though, I reckon it's better to make sure they understand and agree to the deal before they say yes. Can't imagine them turnin' something like that down, though.

"I just have one request, though, sir, and that's that I be allowed to inspect the actual quarters before I go back, so that I can tell my men with a straight face that they're suitable. Since they don't know you, I imagine they'll ask if I've seen the place myself."

After leaving the hall, Rellik took a moment with Vargauld to discuss registration. Assuming Avanthar had consented to let the brigand leader examine the barracks, he would do so then, simply to establish how much room there was, and how sound and well-tended the building was. Certainly, Rellik would walk away with a favorable impression of his new landlord's hospitality.

Rellik's registration form read as follows:

Name: Rellik
Age: 34 patterns
Race: Human
Skills: Advanced spear, Intermediate crossbow, longsword, and tactics. Basic Zinn'Ka (Laon) and Brawling. Advanced Wilderness Survival. Intermediate Stealth. Basic Tracking and Healing.
Feats include Leadership (B), Murder (C).
Lore includes knowledge of trade routes, economic relations between various regions around Centripax, and the Primus Gaudeo underworld.
Resident Number: {TBD}
Spire – Room: {TBD}

Counting Rellik, the band consisted of 9 humans, 2 relequis, 1 Cether, one half-elf, one Moraden dracon (who had taken the form of an 8' tall hobbit to annoy the Cether). The dracon and one of the humans were female, the rest male. Most members of the outfit had been together for a while, and they were surprisingly well-trained for a band of apparent ruffians. Generally speaking, their skill set consisted of:

Intermediate in at least one melee weapon,
Basic or Intermediate in at least one missile weapon (sling in the case of the relequis and the hobbit, longbow for the half-elf, crossbow for everybody else)
Basic or Intermediate Stealth
Basic Wilderness Survival (the relequis were Advanced)

The band included at least one experienced healer (the half-elf: Apprentice Druid, Intermediate Healing and Herbalism). The dracon was an Initiate Mystic, as well.

The two relequis, who were brothers, were the focal point of their stealth, wilderness survival, and tracking skills, comparing favorably to Rangers in that respect. Needless to say, they were also fantastic climers.

Their equipment was pretty basic and not very uniform, apparently being based largely on what they had harvested from earlier caravans. Only Rellik and the half-elf wore armor, leather in both cases. Rellik wore the only helmet in the bunch. However, their equipment was well-maintained, and apparently whoever had selected them out of the caravan wreckage had an eye for quality. A few of the men sported the odd gaudy bauble taken from the spoils. For the most part, though, the brigands appeared to have traded or sold most of their booty for basic supplies and such.

Rellik did not immediately bring anybody else in, but over the course of the next few cycles, at least one other Moraden, an orc, a half-orc, and two ratta with similar skill sets showed up at Dar Havark's gates, saying Rellik had referred them, although they were not part of his band.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

It was men in Rellik that Dra’Aran targeted, more so than sniveling Persettie. Obviously his proposition was well liked by the brigand, and for the present both were rewarded for the venture. Nodding at Rellik’s request, Vargauld showed Rellik the first spire, uniform spires save for the north Dar Havark tower and the main spire that reached well into the heavens. For the moment those underground remained hidden, though it was possible for Rellik to wonder how so many guards were stationed at the gates yet no clues of them residing in the spires could be found.

Moving through the marble and ice forests, the odd gothic beauty of Dar Havark was mesmerizing, an odd change from the many other cities situated within the empire. Wells could be found in key places, though means for larger water systems had yet been put into place. Entering into the South and yet unnamed spire, Rellik was led into the main halls, unusually empty and large, yet obviously well built. Large halls and eating areas were made, as well as possible shop areas and kitchens.

Climbing up to the first level of residence areas, the levels were a mix of smaller rooms able to comfortably fit one or two people, to larger rooms where three or more could reside relatively well. The basics were all there, and it would fall upon the individual to upgrade their living conditions like any other in the empire.

Signs would eventually be hammered at the entrance of each doorway, indicating the level and room number, but for the moment one level was enough to fit all of Rellik’s band. The southern spire would be the first to be occupied, though it would eventually spread as filtered into the gothic city.

OOC: I'll keep all the information in my CIR for men and room numbers~

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

Some time later…

Returning from a trip to Riparia, Terra and five other members of the Brotherhood returned with fourteen others. Poorly dressed, malnourished, they bore the very hallmarks of street beggars tired from a journey down south. Shock, even a tinge of fear ran through their minds at seeing Dar Havark from a distance, its mighty spires and gothic design emanating the darkness that lurked within. Walking along the great bridge and past the open gates were alert guards saluted at Terra and the others returns, they were met by the marvelous sights within as gardens of marble and ice glistened under the odd rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds.

Placing a hand on the mute beggar boy, the band was halted by Erlok, a massive orc that regarded the band with mild interest. Towering over many of them, what chatter that continued with the beggars were stopped short by the imposing figure. He was of course the captain of defense for Dar Havark as well as the leader of the heavy fighting Orcs. Turning from the priestess to the others, some wondering just what they had gotten into, the orc, intelligent than most, smiled oddly at them, speaking near perfectly with little hint of his orcish heritage.

‘I am glad of your return Terra… preparations shall be made for them…’

‘As Captain of Defense here I welcome you all to Dar Havark… and I am the one that ensures that every inhabitant is safe and comfortable here… our Lord is quite busy on other matters… yet I am sure he shall be pleased of your arrival…’

With a great many spires looming above them, the obvious silence of the place boring down on them, Terra indicated for all of them to follow as they were led through the city from the northern gate and through Dar Havark. An odd chill passed through them as they reached the southern spire were occupants would begin to inhabit, a band of twenty brigands of sorts already living within. As they entered the great stone building, marveling at its elvish designs and balconies, they were immediately taken to the bathing area where water drawn from the deep underground streams were heated for their use.

Offering soup and other necessities as they were given baths and fresh clothing, the beggars from Riparia transformed into respectable men and women, though they still bore the hallmarks of malnutrition and hunger. Even that was soon taken care of as they entered the gargantuous dining halls of the first spire, given hot soup, bread and even some chicken by the cooks of Dar Havark. A jug of cold water was passed around as they ate. Terra and the others joining them at the long tables near the end, watching them enjoy their meals… it was only when they finished did she continue…

‘As I said before… you are all now a part of Dar Havark. We will offer you all 25 crowns a cycle for your work, whether it be cleaning, cooking, or simple maintenance and preparation for more men and women to join our growing city. A part of your pay will go to the cost of living for your rooms… 15 crowns for a single room… 30 crowns with a room large enough to fit three. I’ll let you organize living arrangements…’

‘Understand that we do not yet have the luxuries of most cities… yet we have the basics to ensure a comfortable living… I shall lead you up to your rooms to prepare for rest…’

Leading them up to the first floor, they were designated rooms quite close to Rellik and his band that were giving them odd glances here and there at their arrival. Safe for Rufus whom bore the hallmarks of a leader, the rest were ordinary men and women carrying little and hoping for a new start in life. Dar Havark would be their salvation, whether or not their Lord was some tyrannical being was a matter they would deal with later. For now, fourteen new inhabitants joined the twenty of the Southern Spire… that, and the many hundreds that lurked deep within, the black host of Avanthar.

OOC:
Desmodus, beggars are from Riparia under approval or BlueBerryKitty in this thread.

http://www.alleria.com/forums/showth...threadid=50909

They carry basic and common skills and are to be used more for basic chores and improving numbers. There is now more than half the population of Acumin in Dar Havark! Yipee!

[Desmodus]

20th Aperitus, Era XI PF

Mmawr-Hriss Arrin had been greatly pleased when his horse showed up at the Sooty Cavern Tavern with its saddlebags full. Apart from his one (fortunately successful) experiment with his Ikos spell, the Domestikatta had depended upon his trusty mount to carry messages into and out of the barrier, shuttling them back and forth between himself and his associate, the Relequi brigand Skiryt, who usually waited nights in a camp just outside of Acumin, in case the Persettie should need to get word either to Rellik or to their paymasters back in Primus Gaudeo. This time the saddlebags contained not merely a delightful, duly appreciative letter from Lord Brian, but also some much-awaited money, along with the promise of more to come as reward for the katta agent’s fine execution of his job. But the letter contained more than just praises and raises; in it Brian outlined the next phase of their plans, plans that stood to make them a fortune, plans in which their new acquaintance, Lord Avanthar of Dar Havark, would doubtlessly be interested.

Within a candlemark, Morris had packed his things and settled his bill with Mila, and was now locked in his second, dreadful encounter with the accursed bubble that protected Acumin from unwanted visitors. Many of the villagers had turned out to see Morris off, not because they liked him or wanted to wish him a pleasant journey, (in fact, most were only too glad to see him leave their town) but because they found it amusing to watch the pompous Persettie suffer and struggle one more time. A few children actually threw garbage at him, staining his sleek, carefully groomed fur with smelly streaks of rotten tomato. It would be a gross hyperbole to say that the people of Acumin hated him; most had simply chosen to ignore and avoid him, finding the katta tiresome and not worth their time. The children pelting him with refuse had no real quarrel with him; however, something about his immaculate grooming and prissy manner made him an irresistible target of mischief for the isolated hamlet’s diversion-starved youth.

As he wrinkled his sensitive feline nose at the offending odor, Morris quietly vowed his revenge on the knuckle-dragging hayseeds that had the gall to mock him. The prospect of that revenge, of just how immanent the fruition of his schemes now was, transformed the katta’s rage into a smug, malicious joy. How sweet it would be to see those same illiterate, mud-nosed children put to work in Avanthar’s mills, their stupid, grinning faces caked with sweat and tears and sawdust.

Such thoughts sustained the Persettie and motivated him to continue pushing through the magical barrier, struggling with all his strength while his horse, which was able to walk through the barrier as though it were nothing more than a slight headwind, patiently watched its master with huge guileless black eyes. It was midmorning by the time Morris arrived, exhausted, at the far side of the barrier. He barely had the strength to crawl onto his horse’s back for the trip to Dar Havark. When he arrived, the forbidding citadel and its fearsome sentries looked downright hospitable compared to Acumin.

It was nearly mid-brightening when Avanthar learned that the Persettie Morris had returned to Dar Havark, and wished to have an audience with him. Somehow, in spite of his recent harrowing experiences, the katta had already managed to assume his immaculately groomed appearance by the time he came before Lord Avanthar. He gave the warrior and necromancer a courtly bow, and greeted him in purring, ingratiating tones: ”Serale, Lord Dar Havark. I hope the brightening finds Your Lordship well. I have heard back from my employer in Primus Gaudeo, and he is very interested in striking up a mutually beneficial business arrangement with you, sir, which arrangement I am now prepared to propose to you on his behalf.” He paused here, his mismatched blue and green cat eyes looking hopefully into the cold blue ones of Avanthar.

[Avanthar Dra'Aran]

As the days wore on signs of life gradually took form. Regarding signs of life with mild pleasure, the Arch-Knight of Jalat was seeing his desires come true, and certainly this was an easier way to raise an army for future goals. Those that he would grace with his mercy would ultimately see the shadow knight in a different light, and by using such means he could eventually forge them all into his own men and women. News had reached him of the arrival of a small band from Riparia, beggars that were given a second chance in life.

Sitting once more in his throne room in the center spire, Avanthar watched as the Persettie entered and graced the scene with his immaculate bow. Caring little of such things, he simply nodded in response as he absently fondled the hilt of his sword that was propped against one arm rest. A cold sensation ran through his arm at the recognition.

‘Serale… Morris…’

‘It is good news to here that your employer is interested in setting up a profitable arrangement where we both may mutually benefit from it. What does he wish to propose?’

With considerable wealth, more would be needed to ensure those of his city were well cared for and given the necessary resources to ensure a higher living standard. By doing things as best as he could, Dar Havark would prove to be an alternative to many of the more corrupt cities. Though he knew little on what fate had install for him, he was immortal in a sense, and would rule and control Dar Havark for many generations to come. Yes, he was interested… as he leant forward slightly, he awaited for the proposition to come.