[RP] Immortal Terror

[Taya]

[Please note that everything below the line was written by and is posted on behalf of Eremon Erkturus. He is unable to create a thread here, and since everything he has told me about his plans so far sounds interesting, I offered to start this for him. Please get in touch with him in game if you want to join in with the RP.]

----

        "...agreed to speed the research but cautions that our work must remain hidden if it is to succeed. Do not engage in reckless action."

The man's smile as he lowered the letter and looked across the great city might almost seem pleasant but for the coldness of his eyes.  As with all things the Seeker urged caution, always caution, but the pace must be quickened or they would all die. The warm glow of success filled his chest and he felt as if he had been unchained...he had finally triumphed in their years-long debate.

Here below him were plenty of test subjects - Refuges, rogues and street urchins by the dozens. Who would miss one or two? And even in the lands outside the city there were countless little homesteads and cottages whose occupants would never be missed.

He penned a quick response to the letter and tied it to the leg of the groffel still awaiting his reply. Shooing the little creature away, he smiled affably at the young couple enjoying their romantic moment together and began the long climb back down the windowless tower.


[ This marks the beginning of a long term storyline open to everyone. If you encounter something that you believe is related to this effort, please do post your own narrative here. ]

[Eremon]

The quill scratches quietly against the parchment, azure light throwing faint shadows across the artfully penned letters.

"...as I said, it took weeks for anyone to stumble upon the homesteads and then they merely assumed them abandoned. Your fears are groundless. I did lose one soldier in taking the third shipment - perhaps that subject can be returned as it would prove most useful in securing more raw materials."

The man nods with satisfaction, scribbles his signature then seals the scroll in its tube. He attaches it to the collar around his groffel's neck and sends the creature fluttering away with a wave of his hand.

[SpidaManz111]

"Undead" Seria mutters as she finishes reading an old, quite dusty (the kind of dusty that creeps asthma sick people out when they see it), tome in the Imperial Library. "I hate undead".

Picturing the recent attack on her, Sarren and Sulaika on the road to Hydlaa, she is certain that is was not the last. Undead rarely come without a truly evil necromancer hiding in some dark alley, after all, she thinks. Perhaps Evirea was involved after all, she had been suspecting that for some time. She has yet to meet the necromancer that was not after the Klyros in some weird fashion.

She feels a little frustrated that she did not get to capture the undead alive, but the Steel Force and its captain will soon rectify that, she hopes. Writing a few letters and orders to her fellow Imperials, she finishes her work for the day.

The path in front of her is clear to her, just as clear as the bottle of alcohol in front of her.

[SpidaManz111]

Lace, yes, he would be a fine gift for the necromancer. Sure. People would soon notice Lance missing. But the necromancer's work was art to him. Art. And that is just what Lace would become.

The figure leaves a note in the tavern of every town.

"Master, I have noticed your piece of art. The way you turn the unworthy into your servants even in death. I am marveled. The unworthy shall be yours. Let me know where you want me to bring them and they shall serve you. Forever."

[SpidaManz111]

[Sooooooooo Eremon. Is the RP dead yet? Nothing has happened for quite some time....And please make sure Evirea doesn't hijack this plot via Taya in order to turn this into a love triangle.]

[Eremon]

[This RP is not dead. I've continued with zombie attacks trying to build a little momentum. Thank you for joining in actively!!]

[Eremon]

A groffel pecks lightly at Lace's ankle. The note it carries says "There is much more at stake than art here. You will meet me at the rock next to the Howling Well where you will prove yourself a willing agent or you will become one of my soldiers"

[SpidaManz111]

[Since Lace is supposed to be the gift (i.e. hostage), you rather mean the figure's ankle, no? ]

[Eremon]

[oh! sorry, didn't get that. my bad...replace the above with:]

A groffel pecks lightly at the figure's ankle. It bears a scroll tube containing a note and a small gold medallion etched simply with a square divided horizontally into two parts. The note reads "You are wise to assist us and shall be rewarded; There is far more than art at stake here. Bring your gift to the rock next to the Howling Well. Wear my amulet at all times to protect you from my soldiers and their contagion."

[SpidaManz111]

[Are you ever on to arrange the transfer? As whom?]

[Eremon]

[ I will be on this evening GMT+8 as Haanzz. Please forgive the rough spots - it's my first attempt to run such a thing]

[SpidaManz111]

[You know. I feel like you probably should announce some time and date you are there It really feels annoying if we wait for you to show up and you don't ]

[Eremon]

[Sorry, I forget about all the timezone differences. I am typically on from 7pm to 09:30pm pst. I can be on Saturdays from 10am until whenever with occasional breaks. wish we could do this by Private Message but it won't let me send one]

[SpidaManz111]

[Right. Perhaps we can arrange something at noon on Saturday? 1200 PST, 1900 GMT+1]

[Eremon]

"...rather than providing more shipments I have refocused my efforts on gathering
more information.

I have recently made the acquaintance of a woman who represents another organization. She
supplied two subjects who may be useful in our current efforts. Furthermore she
seeks to learn how our aims may run in parallel."

Eremon paused in his writing, pen poised over the parchment as he pondered  the
recent encounter. The woman had been very cordial and the two subjects had come more or
less willingly, but the ynnwn subject had proven to be a walking trap. Although her
mind was laced with an amazing amount of magic which had to be very carefully
countered, there was no indication that it had been put there to trap him; no
indication that the ynnwn was other than she appeared - a prisoner.

He placed his quill pen back into its well and sat back, then began drumming the
fingers of his left hand on the table. The real question, and the one he must move
very carefully to answer, was whether the mysterious woman's real purpose - or
more to the point, her intent regarding himself - was as she had said.

He leaned forward and reread what he'd written. Finally he waved a light breeze
across it to dry the ink, sealed it in the scroll tube and sent his groffel on its
way.