Old October 20, 2010, 08:53 PM   #1 (permalink)
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A Study in Shades [Necrotic Manipulation][Noe]

Timestamp: Kalendryas, Autumn Era XVII PF

Rumors flowed around in a city with only 30,000 regular inhabitants like water through a mill. It was something that just came with the territory. Like Tal's fabrication of being a detective, and then a run in with Hazudar T. Halforc because of it in only a few brightenings' time. These things just happened in a city where women were meant to only clean the home and gossip with one another. This time, however, the stories were going to be working in his favor.

It had started with drinks with a nobleman in the Traveler's Lodge. The man traveled to Secyclion often, for both business and pleasure, a sentiment Tal would have shared if not for the infernal half-orc. The man mentioned a toy shop in the city, Tinkerer's Fancy, the perfect place to buy a little toy to amuse the young children and the wife back home to hopefully solve any family relationship problems that occurred while he was away prancing about with other women on the Red Isle. Then, he just took it as a place of interest that he might visit if he felt the time and urge to spend a pretty penny to bring back Ruille or his cousin Allessa a toy.

That was the first mention of the place. Though, when he visited the darker sides of town, he heard more rumors about the place. There was whispered to be more going on in there asides from toy making. A child disappearing in the midst of the night nearby. Odd feelings that passed through people as they stood there. The slaughterhouse that was next door only helped to accentuate the unease of the place. Those who seemed to know the most seemed to talk the least. It was a coincidence he was not willing to ignore.

Then there was Lord Avington, a small time noble who had caught the katta one brightening. The conversation mostly ranged around the interests of both of them, the weather, and how the current 'case' Tal was working on was going. All was going well, until Tal mentioned Tinkerer's Fancy in his 'investigations.' The man grew quiet. It only took a few questions about Tal that were actually answered, and truthfully for that matter, and then the man told him that there were some things about the shop that only a few people truly cared to know. Fewer still even dared to use the services available. Then the man left, leaving more of a mystery about the toy store than before.

That was what caused him to be standing outside, staring at the marvel of gadgeteering that was displayed through the window. More superstitious people may have seen it as a call, more sensible people would called it an allure to danger, but Tal called it simple curiosity. There was more to the place than most people were willing to talk about or even knew, and let alone so very little about the man who owned the place. He had a feeling there would be more there if he was just able to talk his way in to the owner's circle of confidence. Perhaps the mystery of the entire thing would be revealed. As long as the old saying of 'curiosity killed the cat' did not come true in the process, of course.

Taking a breath, he knocked on the door. He had no appointment, but that did not stop him from doing some things before. When it opened, he would say simply, “Lord Avington said you might have something of interest for me to learn.” It was a lie, but one that should let him have at least a small chance to learn what it was this man was up to.
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Old November 6, 2010, 07:10 AM   #2 (permalink)
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“Did he?” An ancient voice whispered in Tal’s ears, words emanating from naught but shadows and the cold autumn wind. The voice evoked memories of forgotten libraries filled with dust-infused books, of crackling parchment read by the candlelight. “Did he now?”

The door to the Tinkerer’s Fancy was a thing of functional beauty. Thick slabs of oak were nailed together with spikes easily the length of Tal’s palm and as thick as his finger. Curls steelwork decorated the door with pictures of contraptions and gears and widgets—more than enough to entice customers to gaze through the paned glass and venture within. It served another purpose too, providing another layer of structural strength to a door worthy of Midpoint. A faint click reached Tal’s ears. Than another, and another, and another. Metal slid against metal, wheels turned and spun. The end result was a louder thunk as the restraining bolts on the door drew back into the door frame.

The whispered voice again. “Do come in, mister K’pazhawrl. And close the door behind you.

Inside the Tinkerer’s Fancy was a shop of wonders. Mine carts danced back and forth on intricately crafted rails, each carrying a dancing, waving fae. Dolls blinked and smiled at the white-furred omnicat while others sat around a table and served tea to one another. Overhead a constellation of animals danced through the air, spun like wheels on a metal spoke. In the back stood the proprietor of the Tinkerer’s Fancy. Demetrios—no surname known—was old. His body was thin, painfully thin, to the point where famine victim might be an appropriate description. He had a head of long white hair pulled back into a ponytail, his face all too forgettable save for its gauntness. But it was a hard time in the empire, and starvation and wasting diseases weren’t entirely unheard of.

Then he spoke. Tal could see the mouth and lips moving, but the dry voice seemed to form only inside his ears. There was no sense of movement, sense of position.

“I shall have to speak with Lord Avington then. I’d suggest you borrow money from him and fast. Now. I am a man of some means, and you are a complication. What do you want? And please don’t lie. It’s tiresome and tries my patience.”
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Old November 11, 2010, 09:33 PM   #3 (permalink)
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Soft ears twitched as a voice that conveyed a knowledge of secrets that many would prefer to have been forgotten seemed to emanate from all around him. He had stumbled onto something a bit more dangerous than he had hoped for, but the want to run was stifled by his want to know more, to know what it was that really was happening within this place. Even as lock after lock clunked aside, he did not feel the fear. Claws sheathed and unsheathed in nervous tension, that was true, but it was not from numbing terror. It was the cold of a calculated match of chess, the little worries that things may not have been going the way you were expecting.

His rough tongue wetted the back of his hand, and he then rubbed it against the soft fur of his face as the intricate door opened up. Fur rose as the voice spoke once again. Still, he did as was requested of him. The Omnicat walked through the doorway and the door, closed the door decorated with the pictures of gadgets and gizmos and stepped into room full of the real things. Despite his attempt to keep a business like presence, his posture broke in light of the little things that were all around him. They really were marvelous inventions. Did that doll just wink at him? He was also certain the mechanical fae in the mine carts were also following him. A wonderment of technology to be sure, but the fur on his neck still stood on end. What did a person who made things like this also have to do to have so many be scared from simply be asked about the shop?

Jade eyes fell upon the gaunt figure of the owner and proprietor of Tinkerer's Fancy™, but Tal was sure that gaunt was perhaps too large a word to describe the corpse of a man. It was odd that a man who could create all of these things found himself in such desperate times that he could not even eat. There was more to the old man, much more darkness lurking beyond the face serene. That was what made Tal want to know more. The disconnected nature of the voice and mouth was disconcerting in greater volume when he could see the mouth that it was spoken out of. Still, he had come this far, and he would not be able to call himself a katta if he did not try to find out more now that he was here.

"What do I want? I want to learn the secrets behind these contraptions of yours," Tal replied. "There must be a reason that those who know more just seem to want to say less. Fear is a powerful motivator, and whatever it is you do here, what you really do, has caused enough fear that I feel almost compelled to seek you out and inquire about it. Gadgeteering only takes one so far. I have a guess that there are more sinister forces at play here." He smiled, lips pressed closed for the time being. Curiosity killed the cat, he only hoped that it did not count for katta.
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Old November 20, 2010, 09:15 AM   #4 (permalink)
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Soft laughter filled the showroom of the Tinkerer’s Fancy; the dry, rasping sound weaving through the showpieces like a thousand echoes. Demetrios himself stood still and silent, regarding Tal with a look of utter distain. The omnicat could almost see his skeletal chest moving with each thin, rattling breath. A sweep of his hand drew back the thick leather curtain in the back of the room to reveal a workshop of size and scope undreamed of by many a university. A hundred tools—all lovingly, painstakingly designed by the old man’s hands—hung on pegboards above immaculate workbenches. Half-finished projects were spread across a half-dozen tables; each component and part carefully arrayed.

“Don’t cast me in your own image, mister K’pazhawri. What do you know of craftsmanship? You come here unprepared, believing in secrets and forces beyond the merely physical. You stumble around with your guesses like a drunken sailor. Did Lord Avington tell you who I am really? What I do? Or did you just guess—again?”

“I am a craftsman. I take pride in my work. I plan, and I make, and I forge. You won’t find a better gadgeteer in Eunesia, and for good reason. Everything you see here is powered by clockwork, driven by gear and crank and spring.”

“Though I shan’t deny that I dabble in—other things.” He smiled, pale lips pulled back to show bloodless gums. “And if I do—why would I teach you? You came here on a guess, floundering about your mysterious forces. I do not dabble, mister K’pazhawri. I work carefully, and slowly. I take months—eras—if my craft demands it. I demand the same of my students.”
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Old December 29, 2010, 08:47 PM   #5 (permalink)
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OOCSo sorry for the delays and the horrible post

Tal shuddered, ears twitching at the rattling sounds of the man laughing. Or was it breathing? He could not be sure. It was clear he had stumbled into more than he had been really bargaining for. He was hoping for a small piece of some criminal organization, some group that he could attempt to assimilate under his own banner. What he had found was much less so far, but quite a bit more disturbing in the end. Yet all he could want was to find out more. The black heart of the Omnicat only cried to know more about this tinkerer's secret secret.

"I flounder in guesses and mysterrry, but I struggle to find the shorrre. You seem to have offerrred a branch to me, and though darrrk the path may be, I will accept." Tal stood as still as he could, sniffing at the air for his breaths while speaking. "I worrrk with wines, Monsieurrr. It takes months at the minimum to have a vintage be fermented. I know patience when it comes to crafts."

Tal's fingers began to drum nervously on his back. "Therrre is little I can say, I fearrr, that could forrrce orrr coerrrce you into taking me on as a pupil in these unspoken trades. All I know is that therrre is something herrre that I feel drawn to, and only my death orrr my induction into it will soothe the curiosity that has been piqued." It was a stupid thing to mention death. There was nothing stopping this man from doing it. "Please, I beg of you," genuine pleading was in Tal's voice, "teach me of these darker crafts."
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Old January 28, 2011, 08:20 PM   #6 (permalink)
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“We shall see. My craft extracts a high price from idiots and careless folk. If you prove foolish and clumsy, your life is forfeit.” The old gadgeteers chuckled softly to himself; a dry, rasping sound like two pieces of sandpaper rubbed between hand. “As if your life wasn’t forfeit the moment you passed my threshold. I am old. I’ve seen much in my decades on this cold sphere, and I do not make threats. This will cost you much, and I shall know if you speak of me to another. Like your former friend Lord Avington.”

He produced a strange object from his pocket. Three snakes entwined in a writhing dance, their long bodies sectioned and joined by intricate clockwork. Each tail was a sharp point, easily able to break skin and draw blood. Which was precisely what Demetrios did. Three small drops hung on the end of the key as he twisted the snakes into a particular combination.

His strange work done, the ancient gadgeteers threw back the rug to reveal an heavy brass portal. The key—and without doubt it was a key—was inserted into a small socket in the middle of the door. It was only one part of the act of entrance. His fingers flew to and fro across the heavy door, pulling here and pushing there and tugging here. It was devilishly complicated in the best of time, and compounded by a spinning blacks, serrated hooks, and other traps which constantly threatened the master’s hands. Ingress to his inner sanctum was at Demetrios’ whim, and his whim only.

“Go.” He gestured at the stairs leading down into the darkness. Once the omnicat passed down the carved granite stairs, Demetrios would close the brass portal behind them. Small orbs hung on the walls of the stairway leading down into the darkness, illuminating the steps with a harsh white light. “So tell me mister K’Pazhawrl. What do you know of magic?”
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Old February 3, 2011, 05:26 PM   #7 (permalink)
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Tal fumbled with his clothing in an attempt to continue the routine cleaning that he always did in excess. The fear from the simple line of how his life was already forfeit was not helping the mental break down. He was curious. That was all. Curious. This was supposed to be a human trafficking operation that he could have coerced blackmail money out of. What scared him the most was not the possibility that he was going to die, but was that he wanted to learn this sinister secret. Death seemed an acceptable risk, as risks would often yield better rewards in the end. That was the theory at least.

His trembling slowed as he concentrated on the lock. It was a fiendish device, and it was clear that even if the trap door had been discovered, there would be no easy way to get in. This darkness was only drawing him in deeper, the cravings for power overwhelming his fear. Fear came from the possibility of death, but a calm came when one accepted that it was going to come. Whether in the secret sanctum of the ancient gadgeteer of infernal power, or eras to come when age grabbed him by the neck and forced his body to yield up its life, he knew he would die at some point. If it was going to be now, he could live with that.

Demetrios’ instruction, Tal passed beyond the brass portal and into the stairs that lead into the inky shadows below. The slamming of the door closed caused a shudder to roll through his body. He was now going down into the belly of the beast. Jade eyes, expanding to allow the Omnicat better vision in the darkness, focused on his captor. "Magic? I know little about it. Only one in a great many is said to even have the chance of using it. It can create storms of lightning with no sounds, or shields to protect against the storms." He was thinking of the attack on Jaedaxia that had occurred a season earlier, when the castle appeared in they sky and glass bugs attacked those on the streets. "I have heard that they must meditate to reach this power, and that it comes from another plane. Other than that, there is little I can say except personal opinions on the issue, but those are only formed from the side of one who does not wield these powers, so cannot truly be justified." There was a slight temptation to ask why Demetrios asked about magic, but Tal was in this man's world, and had to live by this man's rules. He would only answer questions when asked. For now.
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Old April 4, 2011, 07:33 PM   #8 (permalink)
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“You misunderstand the question.” The old wraith walked ahead of Tal into the surprisingly large laboratory carved into the bedrock of Secyclion. His voice seemed to grow stronger with each step taken into his inner sanctum. Some semblance of warmth seemed to infuse his wrinkled skin, or maybe that was just a trick of the light. Probably just a trick of the strangely, almost painfully bright orbs hanging from the ceiling at regular intervals. “There is arcana and then there is magic. We understand how to wield the eight Essenes through brute force. A mage harnesses only what he can bend to his will. He does not understand. He simply copies the work of his betters, like a toddler miming the speech of his parent. Then there is magic. The things that they cannot hope to understand, the thing which they dismiss as flights of fancy.”

He picked a pair of spectacles off a workbench and handed them to Tal. The lenses were tinted a dark green like cheap glass formed from unfiltered sea sand. After gesturing Tal to a seat on a bench, he walked over to the centerpiece of his workshop. It stood atop an iron stand, easily large enough to consume Tal’s entire body without too much pushing or shoving. It was made of adultered clay, the smooth surface of the vessel marred by a hundred white marks of uncertain material. If the katta looked closely enough, he could see small writing on every surface of the necrotic forge: worked into the clay and carved into the bone. And it was unquestionably bone, and very small bones at that. With a pair of iron tongs, he filled a beaker halfway with a black, viscous liquid that continued to bubble even after leaving the forge.

“What do people do when they die, Mr. K’Pazhawrl?” A mouse was suddenly in his hands, plucked from a small wicker basked on the bench near where he’d gently laid the beaker. “Put on the glasses and watch here.”

Through the glasses Tal could see the old toymaker lowering the mouse slowly into the beaker. Sensing its eminent doom, it flailed and twisted; more than one of its sharp claws and teeth rending small, bloodless furrows in the old man’s raw flesh. The world seemed filled with a strange cold wind, blowing but never quite touching the material world. The mouse glowed a brilliant white in his view, each desperate struggle producing a brilliant puff of energy. As it sank into the acidic, poisonous bile it flared a final time before growing dark.

“What do you think that was?”
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Old April 18, 2011, 09:28 PM   #9 (permalink)
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He listened as the old man walked before him, the Omnicat striding along behind. Arcana and magic, two word that mean that exact same to him, but to this instructor, there seemed to be a world of difference. While Tal tried to weigh things evenly until he was certain, Demetrios seemed to be sure in his estimation of this arcana versus the magic he seemed so willingly to now profess using. While the man and his views on arcana may seem judgemental, perhaps overly harsh, there was a reasoning there that Tal could follow. Of course, the inner sanctum of this dark man's work was near, and all hope to escape was last from the katta long before, so Demetrios could speak however he willed. The man could say what he wanted now, for he could kill Tal, or teach him more, and only have Tal implicate himself if he were to try and betray the old man and his secrets. While the man and his views on arcana may seem judgemental, perhaps overly harsh, there was a reasoning there that Tal could follow.

Perfectly clean claws outstretched, Tal pinched the proffered glasses. Quite a curious thing to be giving him. Were they meant to perhaps color his eyes to a viewer? Or maybe enrich the color of his eyes? That would be silly, as the Omnicat already had eyes of the deepest jade, a color more rich then these cheap bifocals of glasses could ever hope to bring out. Then again, here he was, in the center of dangerous man's infernal lair, a place that his curiosity had brought him and only drunken floundering in a pool of questions had allowed him to see. That was the ticket. He would have to see.

His gaze fell on the odd vessel that Demetrios stood over. The thing was large, perhaps a pot for brewing of evil elixirs. It was made of clay though, it seemed. Not metal, not the best of gather heat. The katta lithely leaned forward from the bench he had been instructed to sit at, looking at the surface. Odd, wonderful markings seemed to fill every inch of the surface. There were also these odd little white chunks that looked so much like... bone. More questions burned in him, but he bit them back. Curiosity was not going to kill this katta today. He was in the realm of this mad gadgeteer. Best not to tempt fate by speaking when not spoken to.

The man returned, a beaker filled with a black liquid that seemed quite willing to eat its way out of the container if it got the chance. Instead, it seemed it would be eating a mouse, offered by the old man. Even as he pondered the question that had just been posed to him, he quickly put the green glasses on, to gaze through at bile and mouse. The creature seemed to glow whiter and hotter each time it scrambled to get away. The further it was pained, the more it flashed through the peculiar vision offered through the glasses. Then, it was gone, consumed by the viscous liquid. It felt as if a cold wind had blown through. His fur was unruffled, and his skin was not touched, but the chill gripped his soul as a sick revelation seemed to dawn upon him.

"That, was its emotions at dying," he nervously answered the question. "Its pain at touching that liquid. The fearrr at what was happening to it. The angerrr, perrrhaps, that it felt at you for killing it. The sadness at knowing it was doomed. Perrrhaps regret, even, for all those possible moments he had passed by thinking he would have more time." He drummed his fingers against his side. His tail swished back and forth. He turned his bespectacled gaze onto the cruel toymaker of unspeakable power. "Is that part of what this is? Harnessing the last, most bitter, of all emotions as someone, or something, dies?"
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Old April 21, 2011, 05:23 PM   #10 (permalink)
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“You think far too highly of us thinking creatures, Mr. K’Pazhawrl.” The old toymaker’s chuckle no longer sounded so dry and raspy here at the heart of his sanctum. He picked up the glass beaker and swirled the contents absentmindedly, ensuring that the caustic bile fully dissolved the last scraps of the mouse. “We think, we dream, we create works of art and poetry. And yet the wolves still thinks of us as meat.”

“Death is more than a brew of emotions. The pain, fear, and anger are all symptoms of a more mysterious event. If I flay a man’s skin from his flesh, I could not capture even a fraction of the energy released when the mouse perished. And yet the mouse’s death was quick and his thoughts simple. There is more to us than the physical and the mental. There is a part of us—the mages call it vis, the priests call it the soul—which has no physical presence. When a creature dies, it’s soul passes into the Infernal or Heavenly Planes. And this transcendence leaves behind a residue of energy. We call it necrotic energy.”

“But, ah, what do we do with the energy? A thunderstorm is more powerful than a master elementalist and yet wreaks no good or ill.” He tipped the bile back into the bubbling forge and placed the beaker into a sluice channel full of running water. “Forgive my digression for a moment, Mr. K’Pazhawrl. The mages postlude that the world is comprised of ara and vis. The ara is the energy of the world at large. The vis is the energy internal to an object. Every object needs both ara and vis to exist. Ara without vis is only energy and vis without ara is only the ghost of an idea.”

“The forge allows us to focus energy. The bile allows us to strip away the physical form of an object until only the idea remains. Substance and idea form the world around us. Do you understand what I tell you, Mr. K’Pazhawrl?”
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Old August 18, 2011, 01:16 PM   #11 (permalink)
Wow. So mod. Much nice.
 
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This thread is closed by request of the relevant PCs. However for your efforts;

Tal K'Pazhawrl has earned some minor lore in arcanomechanics. This does not constitute to any real arcana gains other than Tal having received some exposure to no longer be considered an 'arcana-idiot' in character.

Noe has earned thankies, cookies and a big smiley face for your peer-mod volunteering services! ^____^

 
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