A mounted Grecht dragoon yells, "City of the Volcano! The Talon of the Nel Arget has arrived at your western gate with an open hand and the great strength of his glorious lineage. Please, send your esteemed leaders forward to treat with the right hand of the hallowed Exarch."

(Bloodloch): You say, "The what?"

Yorvhaset enters from the west, riding an armoured silver taerilan.
He is followed by a mounted Grecht dragoon and a mounted Grecht dragoon.

Bloodloch West Gate. (Bloodloch.) (28024)
The tenebrous cavern ceiling looms ominously high overhead. The tunnel ends in a large round cave that is eerily lit by an intense, dark red glow coming through an enormous arched opening that leads in to a vast cavern. On either side of the opening are huge, rough-hewn, stone gates that can be swung closed and barred to cut off access to the cavern. The gate swings so easily that it only takes two guards to close it, though no mechanism for their operation can be seen. Several wagons wait for their turn to be searched by the guards before being allowed to enter, the teamsters shuffling nervously, and not making eye contact with anyone. Sulfurous fumes and suffocating heat billow in through the opening, and a powerful sense of foreboding permeates the area. The huge cavern can be entered through the eastern opening, or a tunnel leads away from this hellish place. The Western Gate of Bloodloch towers massively here. A glorious banner stands tall here as token of the strength and victory of the city. There are 2 wickedly sharp stalagmites here. A polished black plaque hangs here, its blood red letters emanating a dweomer of power. Looming above is a sculpture of five larger than life figures, carved from smooth, light-grey granite. A furious sandstorm rages here, the sand whirling around at a rapid pace. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Inviting closer inspection, a monument of bone displays an informative plaque. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Father Jamasco, a Nazetu priest stands here, deformed yet serene. Suspended from a twisted iron pole, a flag of Bloodloch flies proudly here. A mahogany chest is here. Gleaming dully in the available light, a lovely, three-tiered fountain is located here, spewing forth darkened blood. There are 2 clay golems here. A stout donkey stands patiently by, waiting for a burden. An imperious hemic savant is here, leaning upon her scythe. Her posture hunched uncomfortably, a shawl-draped scion of despair resides here. There are 2 mounted Grecht dragoons here. Duchess Cara D'baen is here. She wields a molten, churning buckler in her left hand and a golden sun pinwheel in her right. Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget is here. He is riding on an armoured silver taerilan. He wields a sweeping talon ranseur in his hands. The monstrous form of Neron is here, his stony body towering over you. He wields a tower shield in his left hand and a menacing flail in his right.
You see exits leading east and west.

Yorvhaset:
He is a muscular Grecht, tall for his kind and covered in scars. His skin is weathered and creased with age where it is not covered in black fur, and his countenance is proud and haughty. His yellow eyes are narrow, hard and angular, set in a broad, flat-nosed face that seems set in a perpetual stony glare. A pair of batlike ears sweep back from his skull, bracketing a tide of intricately knotted and braided belts of black-grey hair, and the claws on his hands and feet are meticulously trimmed.

                (resplendent and burnished) : silvered dragoon field plate
              (cast back over one shoulder) : a sweeping, hooded cloak of white feathers
                       (guarding his hands) : armoured, taloned gauntlets
                 (securely tied with sinew) : fur-lined leather sandals
                   (slung across his torso) : a white bandolier of worked tlingor hide
                  (beneath his field plate) : a uniform of tlingor hide and tundral fur
        (strung on a chain around his neck) : 4 obsidian rings

Sear enters from the east following Alice.

You tell Arch Duke Ezalor D'baen, "You may wish to be here for this...ambassador of sorts."

A mounted Grecht dragoon mutters to his compatriot, "I never said I could read flatlander runes. You shouldn't have given me the map."

Neron inclines his head politely to Yorvhaset.

Alice performs a graceful curtsey.

Sear bows respectfully.

Ignoring his followers, Yorvhaset casts a scrutinizing glance over the congregation, acknowledging Neron with a nod. "Who among you rules?" He queries, quietly.

Deepest Stygian night steals over the land as the symbolic hourglass empties and turns, ready to begin a new day.
It is now the 20th of Severin, year 404 of the Midnight Age.

Alice tells you, "Khalifa, who is this and is everythinng okay?"

A mounted Grecht dragoon gives a grimace, muttering to his companion, "And I am hardly enjoying this heat."

You tell Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon, "I am not entirely certain. We are about to find out."

Alice tells you, "Unnderstood. May I stay distant to observe?"

You tell Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon, "Aye, you may."

Yorvhaset flicks his gaze to you, bowing stiffly from the saddle. "I am Talon Yorvhaset of the Nel Arget, appointed emissary of Exarch Rholva the Youthful of the Second Imperium of the Dehkay Plateau." He pauses to take a breath, casting a slitted, irritated glance at the complaining dragoon. "I am honoured to hold a charge to visit each of your four flatlander cities, and now I am come to your mountain stronghold."

Alice curtsies to you, stepping back quietly with her hand grasping a gruesome crescent scythe a little tighter. She sweeps her empty eyes over Yorvhaset and his companions cautiously.

A mounted Grecht dragoon surreptitiously begins loosening his gorget, huffing out a damp, sweaty breath.

You have emoted: "I am Princess Sarita, Khalifa of the Noble House Bahir'an, and Weaver of Constructs in the city Bloodloch," Sarita says formally to Yorvhaset, her face tilting upwards to meet his eyes. "I do fear I am unfamiliar with this Dehkay Plateau, however."

A mounted Grecht dragoon daubs a sullied bit of cloth at his brow before turning his attention once more on you, nose twitching.

With a brief, polite inclination of his head, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "That is not unexpected, Princess. My people are not known to range far outside of the Plateau, barring the renegades in your Siroccians. The Plateau is far to the north of the tundra, behind a wall of ice. My Queen bids that I meet with your flatland leaders to learn more of your cultures, for she is a young and excitable ruler."

Yorvhaset snorts quietly. "Far be it for a loyal Talon to criticize his Exarch, of course."

Yorvhaset steps down off of an armoured silver taerilan.

Alice stares at an armoured silver taerilan as Yorvhaset steps off the beast, her left eye blinking after the right and tinged with confusion. At Yorvhaset's explanation only a resemblance of a smile

You have emoted: Sarita folds her hands together, still studying Yorvhaset's face carefully as she says, "We shall both learn from each other, I would hope."

Alice tells you, "You must be the best for this thenn, of course, Khalifa."

An armoured silver taerilan slits her eyes, returning Alice's stare with watchful intensity.

You tell Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon, "This is a mere matter of city precedence. As an aide to Security, I stand higher ranked than anyone here."

A mounted Grecht dragoon says, "Do you hope to challenge the Talon's taerilan, flatlander? She seems to think you do."

Bowing at the waist in a rustle of feathers, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "That is the intent of this visit, Princess. I will be happy to answer your questions or to discuss the topics of your choosing for the duration of my visit." He straightens up, wincing. "Your fellow flatlanders were quite quick to offer tours of their abodes. I confess, I find your fine caverns far more to my liking than their draughty boxes."

Alice doesn't reply sans a shake of her head, shifting her empty gaze downwards to avoid the confrontation.

An armoured silver taerilan struts for a moment, puffing out her feathered chest pridefully and raking a claw across the stony ground.

(Bloodloch): Ivoln says, "What is this that I smell? Something dusty, something deathly."

A mounted Grecht dragoon says, "Careful, now, flatlander. She's going to bite that little.. face of yours."

With a quick glance around, you say, "I imagine there are indeed questions, and I would be honoured to offer a tour of sorts, in whichever order is preferable."

Ison arrives from the up.

Shifting his ranseur until it is held beneath his arm, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says to you, "It is customary on the Plateau to offer an exchange of weapons between leaders when a diplomatic visit is underway."

Ison pulls a Delosian bastard sword from his weaponbelt fluidly.
Ison starts to wield a Delosian bastard sword in his hands.

(Bloodloch): You say, "We have emissaries at the West Gate, my Lord. They have come from a place known as the Dehkay Plateau."

Ison Nebre'seir says, "An exchanging of weaponry?"

A mounted Grecht dragoon grimaces, turning his taerilan away as he rakes the cloth over his sweat-beaded brow again.

Yorvhaset flick a glance to Ison, his aged face unreadable. "Between leaders." He stresses. "You are not yet known to me, nel."

Emerging from the dark, heralded by thunderous footfalls, Ivoln stomps into the room, wearing a skull's scowl.

With a quick flick of the wrist, Ison deftly twirls the bastard sword in his hands, presenting the fine crafted handle towards Yorvhaset. "Ison Nebre'seir, Head of Security for the City, and Champion for lord Ivoln".

Ison nods his head at Ivoln.

Alice performs a graceful curtsey towards Ivoln.

An armoured silver taerilan skitters uncertainly a few steps to the side, blinking rapidly, then slits her eyes and hisses at Ivoln.

Sear bows respectfully to Ivoln.

You have emoted: Sarita turns briefly towards Ison, acknowledging him as she says, "Lord Ison of the Noble House Nebre'seir is the Taskmaster of the city. If he wishes, he would best serve -"

You have emoted: Sarita falls silent, clears her throat, and then dips into a quick, graceful curtsey to Ivoln.

Ivoln extends his arms broadly, addressing His kinship with a bellowing, "MY CHILDREN." Catching sight of Ison with a proffered blade, He asks, "What amusing devilry is this? I thought I smelled something deathly."

Ison winks knowingly at Ivoln.

Yorvhaset pauses for a handful of breaths, hand resting on the extended hilt of his ranseur, then in a fluid movement presents the leather-wrapped wooden handle to Ison.

Yorvhaset ceases to wield a sweeping talon ranseur.

Yorvhaset gives a sweeping talon ranseur to Ison.

Ison gives a Delosian bastard sword to Yorvhaset.

Formally, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "Your blade is my honour - to break one is the other. Greetings, also, to you, Deity."

Ison starts to wield a sweeping talon ranseur in his hands.

A mounted Grecht dragoon murmurs something about 'ill-made weaponry' under his breath, all the while mopping at his brow and neck.

Ison peers at a mounted Grecht dragoon suspiciously.

"Do you wish for My blade as well?" Ivoln asks.

Ivoln lowers the Earthen Blade, its jagged rockscape flowing loose from His arm and leaving it bare.

With a fluid thrust, Ivoln embeds the Earthen Blade into the ground.

Alice clings a little tighter to a gruesome crescent scythe, edging back a few errant steps besides Sear as she watches the exchange.

Ison twirls and jabs with the ranseur, testing the balance and length of the wepaon.

Yorvhaset rests Ison's blade at his hip, his face carefully neutral as he inclines his head to Ivoln. "I would not overstep my place in the order so far, Deity." He replies. He flicks his eyes briefly to Ison, a flicker of unknown emotion creasing his brow.

Ison Nebre'seir says, "A fair enough weapon, not quite for my liking, but I see the merit. No that the formalities are out of the way however..What brings you to Bloodloch?"

Ivoln grunts and nods, crossing His burly arms. He seems satisfied.

Yorvhaset draws himself up, securing the bastard sword at his hip, and interlaces his taloned, armoured fingers at this back. "I represent my Exarch, Rholva the Youthful, in her assigned mission to treat with the people of the south in an effort to better understand your culture." He repeats. Nodding to you, he adds, "I have given formal greetings to the Princess."

Comprehension flashes across Ison's face.

(Bloodloch): You say, "He is tasked with visiting all four cities, and thus far he seems to feel most comfortable in the caverns, though I am uncertain his companions feel the same."

(Bloodloch): Ison says, "Do him the favor of explaining Bloodloch will you?"

Ison Nebre'seir says, "Perhaps we could start with what you would like to know about The City of Undeath?"

Neron takes a moment to let the formalities and exchanges pass, before his mind begins to wander. "A young and excitable ruler, wishing to learn of it's southern neighbors..." the Azudim thinking aloud as his voice is near a murmur. "I have centuries of age to translate that to tread carefully." he adds, turning to Cara.

You have emoted: Sarita glances momentarily at Ison before turning her attention back to Yorvhaset.

Yorvhaset glances back to you, waiting in polite and expectant silence. He flicks a slitted glance to Neron, but does not find it fit to interject. "I know something of your ways and your people." He informs Ison. "Exarch Rholva bids me discover what you would freely share. She is enamoured with your strange flatlander culture."

Canting his head to the side, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "I have heard you are given to leadership by the undying of Ivoln, but that you hold no true neicel. Such things are interesting to me, though perhaps not to my Queen."


You say, "The city Bloodloch as we know it today was founded by Abhorash, then known as the Emperor of the Consanguine. Under his direction, the Consanguine culture flourished here. In later years, we were joined by the undead children of Lord Ivoln."

A mounted Grecht dragoon gives a slight yawn, not bothering to cover his agape fanged mouth with a hand.

Not much functionally different from a megalithic statue, Ivoln continues to watch, seemingly woolgathering, grinning faintly at the notion of being spoken about as if He weren't there.

Turning to face you, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "Consanguine - these are your undying of Chakrasul, yes?"

Alice flickers her empty gaze to her Khalifa with intent listening, dark, feeble tendrils surrounding the darker of her eyes for only a brief second before stifling her own yawn. "Pardonn me." She feebly murmurs while edging towards the west to slip away in a silent departure.

Politely, you say, "Our Blood flows to us from Abhorash, who now bears the title of the Primus."

A tinge of grudging respect colours Yorvhaset's tone as he acknowledges your words with a nod, saying, "It is right to know the blood of your descent. There is much to admire in your caverns, I suspect."

You say, "The goddess Chakrasul was a part of the creation of the Blood, aye, but we do not associate ourselves with her in the same manner that our undead brethren associate themselves with the Earthen Lord." She pauses, looking at Ivoln momentarily before adding, "The story is a lengthy one, but I could share it in detail at a later time if it interests you."\

Alice barely enters, keeping closer to those of the Congregation and nearly out of sight. Her eyes sweep across each who speaks curiously, keeping her scythe across her in hopes of more distance.

Politely, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "I would not presume to demand your time for a retelling of history, Princess. I am sure I may find such things in history books, and preserve your time for more important things."

An armoured silver taerilan turns, slitting her eyes, and butts her head insistently against the nearest dragoon's armoured leg, earning a brief, annoyed snap from his mount.

You have emoted: Sarita gives Yorvhaset a quiet nod before glancing upwards, motioning with her hand as she says, "The caverns were ideally suited for the Consanguine. You may or may not have learned that the rays of the sun are painful for us to endure, so we can take shelter here during the day."

Alice's lips break into a resemblance of a smile, her hand moving to her lips as she glances briefly to an armoured silver taerilan.

"I imagine that they should know these things, though I comment you for your historical memory, My princess," Ivoln says dotingly, a sort of aside to you. "After all, the aura of death is upon them - much the same way the chef carries the smell of his food."

Yorvhaset offers Ivoln a brief, polite nod. "Your deity speaks the truth." He murmurs. "We have scholars of our own."

A mounted Grecht dragoon mutters, rubbing his cloak over his face, "All this standing around.. I will die from this blasted heat."

Ison chuckles long and heartily.

You have emoted: "Of course," Sarita says, eyes lingering on Ivoln for a moment before she turns back to Yorvhaset. "I must ask, as you mentioned that your Exarch may have interests that differ from your own, what sort of knowledge would she wish to have of us?"

Helpfully, Father Ivoln says, "Perhaps you might show your guests some hospitality."

Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon asks, "A drinnk then, for you all?"

Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says to you, "She is curious about your way of life - your crafts, your rituals. I find myself more curious about your armies, though our previous visits have shown that you are a suspicious and wary people in the flatlands."

(Bloodloch): You say, "With all due respect, my Lord, with all the changes and so forth in the city, I have entirely lost track of the location of our Embassy."

(Bloodloch): Ivoln says, "I was rough with it. You will have to do without."

Ison Nebre'seir says, "We currently do not house any troops within our walls."

Duke Neron D'baen says to you, "Your Imperial Highness, should you wish, we have a commons room within our Castle, as well as a stable for our guests . . steeds."

You have emoted: Sarita manages a wry smile at the mention of 'life', but otherwise shows little hint of an emotional reaction.

"Were they our military, that might be a concern," Ivoln says, not without a hint of impatience.

Nodding, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "Ah. You would of course put them to work rather than keeping them within your caverns. Efficient."

Ison Nebre'seir says, "Our militia is well armed, well trained, and very deadly, but the talk of fighting is quite boring to some, and the heat seems to be taking a toll..."

A mounted Grecht dragoon nods fervently to Ison.

Alice gives a small black ceramic cup to Yorvhaset.

Alice gives a battered iron cup to Yorvhaset.

Yorvhaset offers Alice a slight nod, examining the contents of the cup warily.

Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "My men will survive the duration of our visit, for all that they complain. They have been a thorn in my side for the duration of our visit to the flatlands."

Yorvhaset drinks from a battered iron cup full of a toxically pink "Bleeder" cocktail.

(Bloodloch): Ison says, "What was in those cups?"

Alice curtsies after passing the emissary, Yorvhaset, "I had hannded you the wrong.. yes, Talon.." she utters twitchingly.

(Bloodloch): Alice says, "Just the drink which looked like it had most ice, I thinnk."

Ivoln's head rocks back with a snort of a laugh. "Excellent, poison them why don't you!"

You say, "Where our rituals and so forth are concerned, I would say the majority are conducted by Houses and guilds rather than by the city as a whole. A visit to the castles and estates of a few different ones may indeed help you to see what sorts of activities take place there. In my own House, we have been known to hold balls, for instance."

Yorvhaset stares at the cup for several long seconds, cheek twitching, then wordlessly returns it to Alice.

Ison Nebre'seir says, "You will excuse me if I do not join you for a drink, I do not partake in this particular activity."

Hastily curtseying, Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon says, "Apologies, it just looked coldest."

Gravely, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "It seems a common pursuit in the south, the holding of balls. My people rarely have the time for such frivolities, though our gardens are host to many celebrations. I would be glad to tour your estates."

Yorvhaset begins to follow you.

With a brief, slitted glance over his shoulder, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "My men will remain here."

A mounted Grecht dragoon says, "There is a breeze here, of sorts, Talon. We shall be fine."

Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says something in an uninterpretable shrill chatter.

You have emoted: Sarita nods at that, then turns slightly to address the group as she asks, "Will anyone else care to join us?"

Yorvhaset eyes an armoured silver taerilan, giving her the once over.

(Bloodloch): Ison says, "I will remain behind with the dragoons, tread carefully, they are still unknown to us."

Ivoln yanks His sword from the ground, leaving behind a thin crevasse of sorts.

Ivoln takes up the Earthen Blade, which contorts and flows around His fist, the stone joining seamlessly with His arm.

Duke Neron D'baen says to Ison Nebre'seir, "I can keep our armoured guests company, if you wish to escort Her Imperial Highness."

(Bloodloch): You say, "They'll not see anything they should not between here and the Bahir'an Estate."

An armoured silver taerilan chirps endearingly at Yorvhaset, scuffing a claw against the ground.

Ivoln mightily stamps the ground, forming a huge gash in the earth, through which He drops. The tear closes itself, leaving no trace of the God's departure.

Ivoln erupts destructively from the ground, His body shedding sand and clay. The hole left behind seals itself up, leaving no evidence of damage.

Alice's lips break into a resemblance of a smile to the taerilan, nodding to you thereafter.

Yorvhaset offers Ivoln a politely baffled look.

You say to Neron, "Or you may join us instead if you wish to show what other Houses do in the city. Mine is but one."

Duke Neron D'baen says to you, "So be it, Your Imperial Highness."

"I extend to you My welcome and blessing, Talon," Ivoln says, extending a fist to Yorvhaset in the very most primitive form of a salute. "Do keep out of any funny business? I'm sure you'll behave. I am sure."

Emphasizing His meaning, Ivoln pivots on one blunt heel, and casts His leering gaze over the city's environs.

Flatly, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "I have no intent to cause disruption in the south, Deity."

Ison Nebre'seir says, "I urge everyone to follow the group on the tour of the Estates."

You have emoted: Sarita inclines her head towards the gathering before saying to Yorvhaset, "The Bahir'an Estate is on the eastern side of the city. This way..."

Walkwalkwalk

An elegant antechamber.
An almost complete lack of furnishings gives this antechamber the feeling of being quite large. Wide arches lead to other parts of the Estate, with a few potted plants and decorative couches set against the walls in between each one. The walls and floor alike are made of polished marble, the latter with a geometric design incorporating white, black, and purple-blue stones. Perhaps the most impressive feature, however, is the ceiling, upon which a vast fresco depicting in great detail the faces of the city's pantheon both in its current form and the ones of the past. The painted eyes gaze down as if the gods Themselves are watching from the heavens. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A glowing red flame-shaped sigil has been left here. A massive golem made of clay stands here. Duchess Cara D'baen is here. She wields a molten, churning buckler in her left hand and a golden sun pinwheel in her right. Jawan Sear Ve'kahi is here, hidden. He wields a tower shield in his left hand. Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon is here. She wields a gruesome crescent scythe in her hands. Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget is here. Neron is here, grinning with cynical amusement.
You see exits leading north, east, southwest, west, and northwest.

Alice tells you, "Shall I be assisting at all Khalifa?"

You say, "When the House Bahir'an holds formal gatherings, this chamber and the ones beyond it are where we gather. There is a ballroom, a formal garden, my own throne room, and a chapel. There are a few different rituals performed by the Consanguine, by which we bind others to our Bloodlines, and the rituals in which we Embrace them."

Yorvhaset sweeps his gaze across the chamber, nodding slightly. "There are many of your Houses?" He asks curiously.

You tell Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon, "I am not quite certain. This is all rather new to me."

Neron wields a cynical grin, remembering the times of the Great Houses and even the Minor Houses during the age of the Imperium. However, he awaits his time to speak and allows the Princess to do her bidding.

Quietly, you say, "There were once eight, though at the will of the Primus, our number has been reduced to four. We gather together in the Dominion, but each House remains independent otherwise."

Alice's empty gaze follows the directions which you speaks, glancing about before returning to their curious gaze to Yorvhaset.

Glancing to you, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "This Dominion - it rules your city, yes? You hold to the holy order?"

You have emoted: Sarita shakes her head in response to the question. "Many of our citizens are indeed members, but the Dominion is represented formally by a single Overlord on the Council of five. Politically, we are striving to work together, as our goals so often overlap, but the city is not ruled by the Dominion, nor is the Dominion ruled by the city."

Duke Neron D'baen says, "Think of it as a collective of ideals with traditions, legacies and edicts entailed in many, many years of history."

Yorvhaset's impassive expression is splintered by a brief frown, and he shifts in a rustle of feathers, adjusting his weight. "I see." He says dubiously. "I confess, it is strange to me that not a single city in the south adheres to the rightful order. Your people are undying, but you have no neicel, and the undying do not rule you by edict."

You have emoted: "Neicel," Sarita repeats slowly. "You have mentioned this once before, but I confess myself unfamiliar with the term."

With a brief nod, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "The neicel are the undying of the Plateau - our priesthood. They rule above the Exarch, though the Exarch does not concern them with the petty minutiae of governing the teac and nel."

Slowly, you say, "The teac and nel are...ah...different sorts of citizens, I imagine?"

With another stiff nod, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "That is correct. The teac serve, and the nel defend. It is our order, though apparently not yours."

Yorvhaset removes his helm, tucking it under his arm, and asks of you, "How is your ruling council chosen, then?"

Yorvhaset removes a winged silver helm.

You have emoted: "Indeed not," Sarita says. "You will find our political structure similar to those of other cities in the sense that we elect for ourselves a council to rule, though like yourselves, all of our elected Overlords will not die. They are not chosen for religious reasons, but rather for their dedication to the city and the abilities they can offer it."

You say, "Our citizens serve different gods, including the Lord Ivoln Who you have met. Those Who are followed by many citizens earn a place on our pantheon, but even that group does not rule us."

Yorvhaset notes, glancing across the throng, "It is strange to consider, this splitting of worship. Doubtless you have your reasons, as a people."

Duke Neron D'baen says, "I must confess, I have never found the desire to 'serve' a deity. And have not done so for over three centuries."

You say, "I do wonder if I could help make the matter more clear in the chapel."


Alice frowns and nods to Neron cautiously, chiming gently, "It is more in Honor thann in Service, I had thought."

Yorvhaset gives Neron what might be a slight, thin smile, but offers no comment.

Neron looks to Alice, a cynical grin dancing across his face. "An honor is to serve the very Blood you seek to acquire. It will not fade into a mere history book, as we keep existence upon Sapience, rather than fading out like a star in the nights sky as some Deity's have done."

Yorvhaset's stony visage tightens, and he taps a thumb against the handle of his belted hammer. He turns his attention to the conglomeration of statues.

You have emoted: Sarita walks over to a few of the statues in the chapel, pointing out one in the likeness of Ivoln as she says, "Many of the citizens of the city Bloodloch do follow the Earthen Lord, owing to Him their eternal existence." She pauses, moving on to a statue of a human man. "Yet our Consanguine citizens owe their Blood to our Primus. Still others remember and honour the work done by the goddess Chakrasul in the past, and choose to follow Her for it." She pauses again by a statue of a woman.

Inclining her head, Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon says to Duke Neron D'baen, "Most wise, Your Grace."

You say, "There is not a single god or person represented in this place who can lay claim to all the citizens of the city Bloodloch. What binds us is undeath, and the potential power it grants us."

Yorvhaset inclines his head formally as you speaks, pauses a moment before murmuring, "One suspects that our cultures once shared more than a nodding acquaintance. I have heard sermons much like the sentiment you offer."

You have emoted: Sarita tilts her head curiously at Yorvhaset, her tone becoming almost more curious than polite as she asks, "Would you tell us more about these undying who rule above your Exarch?"

With a slight, thin smile, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "The neicel speak at length of the strength in the bonds forged with our God. It is much the same as that bond offered by your Deity Ivoln - though their bodies decay with time, their will and spirits persist."

Alice looks up curiously, "Your God, Talon?" she asks Yorvhaset.

You have emoted: Sarita glances back towards a few of the older statues, the ones with worn features and missing parts. "I don't suppose the One you worship is one that has been known to us before?"

Yorvhaset makes a curious twisting gesture over his breastplate, murmuring, "They sleep below the Plateau. The neicel speak for Them, and once Lord Galleus journeyed to commune with Them, but They are not of the flatlands."

You ask, "What is it They teach to guide you and yours?"

Turning to incline his head to you, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "I am not of the neicel, Princess, nor am I a scholar. We are only asked to serve, not to learn."

Alice blinks her left eye after her right, "You are here to learn in service but absorbing nothinng?" she asks the Grecht with confusion, lips tightening to silence again after a small apology.

Yorvhaset glances at Alice, his scarred face twisting in a faint frown. "My queen directs me to report to her." He informs Alice. "But I am an old warhorse. It is not my place to speak for the neicel or Halfat Naru."

"Ah!" Alice says to Yorvhaset, comprehension flashing across her face.

Alice tells you, "Apologies, Khalifa. I had thought I sennsed a flaw in their visit and became overly worried for a momennt."

Alice nods to Yorvhaset, "I see thenn, thannk you Talon. I spoke out of place." she cautiously replies in her hollow tone, edging back slightly.

Yorvhaset shifts, rolling his armoured shoulders. He watches Alice a moment longer before nodding, returning his attention to you.

Alice gives Yorvhaset the once over.

Yorvhaset gives Alice the once over.

Her tone returning to its previous, perfectly polite state, you say, "I think you may find that another difference in our cultures is that several of the city Bloodloch believe that learning is essential to achieve our fullest potential. The highest among us do not reach such positions by being content with a given place in the world. Our first step is overcoming the mortality that afflicts the others of Sapience, but that is merely the first."


You say, "Of course, there are others who disagree. As a city, we do not hold all views in common."
Politely, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "The holy order has been the foundation of the Second Imperium, and its lack the fall of the First. Our ways differ."

Alice takes a makeshift note book from a plain grey pack.

Interlacing his fingers, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "Perhaps it would be appropriate to move to the next destination, Princess?"

You have emoted: "Differences are to be expected, naturally," Sarita says, offering a small smile. After a momentary pause, she turns to Neron and says, "I imagine His Grace would be honoured to share some of his own views and those of his House."

Neron listens intently, with his hand resting on his flail's handle. Gaze dancing between the citizens and guests. "I can escort each of us to the Castle of House D'baen, should you wish." he adds, his tone resounding with pride. "As I have not introduced myself to you, I am Duke Neron D'baen, an Elder of my House and amongst one of the Eldest Consanguine to not reside within their coffin or the earth."

Inclining his head and speaking formally, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "Well met, Duke Neron D'baen. It is my honour to speak with you."

Walkwalkwalk

Neron kneels before a statue of Empress Faith D'baen, swearing his allegiance to a statue of Empress Faith D'baen.
As Neron kneels before the statue of Empress Faith D'baen, her emerald eyes illuminate. The figure's smile appears to deepen slightly as a thick mist rises from the ground all around Neron, obscuring him from sight. When the mist clears, Neron is nowhere to be found.

You follow Neron to the ether. (lost)

Outer courtyard.
The high ebony walls viewed from the bridge can clearly be seen here to extend the full circumference of the castle, its imposing shadow cast across the courtyard in the early morning and late afternoon. The smooth, black, pentagonal stones of the path run to the north where hay can be seen spilling from a stable, and east toward the center of the courtyard, a simple hedge borders the path and discourages walking on the well tended foliage and delicate red flowers beyond. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A massive golem made of clay stands here. Duchess Cara D'baen is here. She wields a molten, churning buckler in her left hand and a golden sun pinwheel in her right. Jawan Sear Ve'kahi is here. He wields a tower shield in his left hand. Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon is here. She wields a gruesome crescent scythe in her hands. Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget is here. The monstrous form of Neron is here, kneeling on the ground.
You see exits leading north, east, and west.
Unmapped: north east

Yorvhaset adjusts the sit of his armour, frowning faintly.

Duke Neron D'baen says, "As we have passed the gates, the statue you found before us is of Her Imperial Majesty Faith D'baen. She is the creator of what is now House D'baen."

Neron stands up and stretches his arms out wide.

Movemovemove

An inspirational chamber of revelation.
A somber silence fills this soaring pentagonal chamber. Completely tiled in black marble and mostly obscured in darkness, the only light comes from bright lanterns that rest in small square recessions in each of the five walls. Set behind large, highly detailed tapestries, the lanterns illuminate their scenes and infuse the space with a dusky glow. The tapestries are the highlight of the room and provide inspiration for individuals aspiring to find their niche, from warriors and adventurers, to scholars, merchants and politicians. In the center of the floor is a slightly raised, circular dais of black marble inlaid with colored stone to form the crest of House D'baen: a white crescent moon with four silver six-pointed stars encircling a red ankh. There are 2 monolith sigils here. A tapestry depicting a Consanguine politician takes up most of the wall here. A tapestry depicting a Consanguine researcher takes up most of the wall here. A tapestry depicting a Consanguine merchant takes up most of the wall here. A tapestry depicting a Consanguine explorer takes up most of the wall here. A massive golem made of clay stands here. Duchess Cara D'baen is here. She wields a molten, churning buckler in her left hand and a golden sun pinwheel in her right. Jawan Sear Ve'kahi is here. He wields a tower shield in his left hand. Fledgling Alice Bahir'an, Childe of Ilyon is here. She wields a gruesome crescent scythe in her hands. Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget is here. The monstrous form of Neron is here, his stony body towering over you.
You see a single exit leading down.
Unmapped: down

Duke Neron D'baen says, "Here, you shall find the chambers our Servants and Thralls can be found obtaining lectures of our traditions and history."

Yorvhaset dutifully observes the black marble chamber, his yellow eyes slitted against the lantern-light. "The education of your young is a priority?" He queries.

Alice follows the group, her expression lacking any emotion save the calculating gaze which passes on between the Grecht and a makeshift note book. As they arrive to the decorated chamber, she lifts her gaze to Neron as he speaks.

Cara nods her head emphatically.

You have emoted: So smoothly, the motion could almost go unnoticed, Sarita edges away from Neron a small bit, separating herself very slightly from the conversation.

Neron brings his hands to entwine within one another behind his back, as he stands within the center of the chamber, facing his congregation of guests. "As I stated before, I am not a being of religion, but of the Blood. My focus that I teach our young and Childer of my own is history of the Consanguine, the proper etiquette displayed by our kind, Traditions passed from Sire to Childe. There are many things, one must learn, as well as adjusting to the new strength found within the Blood they obtain."

Yorvhaset focuses intently on Neron, his white-armoured form gleaming in the dim chamber. "A long process?"

Cara murmurs something softly to Neron.

Neron takes a moment to chew on the question, "That depends on the servant or thrall, their on capabilities and ability to perform just as much as it is their Sire's to instill knowledge." his gaze looking to you then to Cara, "Her Imperial Highness and Her Grace could offer further insight upon timeline, if you seek such."

Yorvhaset pauses a moment, then admits, "Perhaps another time. My visit is becoming overlong, I think, and I am concerned that my men may become restless."

Cara tells you, "Thank you very much for allowing us to tour your lovely dwelling, Your Imperial Highness. It is most appreciated."

Duchess Cara D'baen says, "If you will excuse me, I find myself having to depart for the time being."

Alice nods to Sear, closing a makeshift note book and tucking it away, lacing her fingers together at her lap.

Duke Neron D'baen says, "Ah, the beauty of unlife, we have nothing but time. Shall I guide us back to your brethren?"

An armoured Grecht dragoon yells, "'WARE, TALON! The flatlanders attack!"

Alice looks at Yorvhaset hopefully.

Alice blinks.

A frown wrinkles Neron's brow as he articulates a "Hrm...."

Runrunrun

Bloodloch West Gate. (Bloodloch.) (28024)
The tenebrous cavern ceiling looms ominously high overhead. The Western Gate of Bloodloch towers massively here. A glorious banner stands tall here as token of the strength and victory of the city. There are 2 wickedly sharp stalagmites here. A polished black plaque hangs here, its blood red letters emanating a dweomer of power. Looming above is a sculpture of five larger than life figures, carved from smooth, light-grey granite. A furious sandstorm rages here, the sand whirling around at a rapid pace. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. Inviting closer inspection, a monument of bone displays an informative plaque. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. Father Jamasco, a Nazetu priest stands here, deformed yet serene. Suspended from a twisted iron pole, a flag of Bloodloch flies proudly here. A mahogany chest is here. Gleaming dully in the available light, a lovely, three-tiered fountain is located here, spewing forth darkened blood. A massive golem made of clay stands here. There are 2 donkeys here. An imperious hemic savant is here, leaning upon her scythe. Her posture hunched uncomfortably, a shawl-draped scion of despair resides here. There are 2 mounted Grecht dragoons here. Outfitted in burnished white armour, an arrogant silver taerilan surveils her immediate surroundings. Ankyrean Warlord Mazzion Cardinalis is here, hidden. He is riding on a donkey. He wields a blackened runic staff in his left hand and a runed shield in his right. Ison Nebre'seir is here. He wields a sweeping talon ranseur in his hands.
You see exits leading east and west.

Alice stares at a mounted Grecht dragoon and blinks.

A hand going to his hammer, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "Blasted..."

A mounted Grecht dragoon struggles with his own mount, trying to keep it under control as it rears and cries out.

Mazzion urges calm, as he motions to the crowd.

Yorvhaset stares coolly at the bucking taerilans, his face stony and hard. "Explain." He rasps.

Ison Nebre'seir says, "I still carry your weapon Yorvhaset, no dishonor has been had."

You have emoted: Sarita looks wordlessly between Ison and Mazzion.

Gesturing with his ranseur, an armoured Grecht dragoon says, "The Azudim cast magic against us! Look, your silver's feathers stil smoulder!"

Alice gazes at the taerilans worriedly as the heft around, frowning then.

Ison Nebre'seir says, "We were having a discussion with your guards."

Ison Nebre'seir says, "Apparently Mazzion forgets the strength he holds."

Ankyrean Warlord Mazzion Cardinalis says to Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget, "Merely a "trick" if you will.  I am blessed with the Ankyrean visage, I forget how these skills affect others."

Yorvhaset shifts his stony gaze to Ison, eyes hardening. "My men are doubtless simply flighty and restless." He states dispassionately, one eyelid twitching. "No harm was meant, I am sure."

Ison Nebre'seir says, "We were discussing a trading of skills in fact."

A mounted Grecht dragoon runs a hand over his pate, giving a grimace as little more than ash comes away in his grasp.

Hissing, an armoured Grecht dragoon says, "This was brand-new armour. Look at it, the patina's gone all to dust!"

Alice frowns and looks on at the Taerilan wistfully, feigning a sigh with a nod.

Ankyrean Warlord Mazzion Cardinalis says, "You must have ventured into the bowels of our city then."

With a sigh, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says something in an uninterpretable shrill chatter.

Ankyrean Warlord Mazzion Cardinalis says, "My skills bring upon the cold of death."

(Bloodloch): You say, "I don't suppose any of you speak their tongue?"

Lifting the bastard sword from his belt and presenting it across his arm, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says to Ison Nebre'seir, "Your blade, nel Ison."

Yorvhaset gives a Delosian bastard sword to Ison.

Ison gives a sweeping talon ranseur to Yorvhaset.

Yorvhaset nods his head at Ison.

Ison Nebre'seir says, "You weapon as well, I will have to see about getting one forged for myself."

Ison Nebre'seir says, "I enjoyed the weapon's feel."

Politely, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "The smiths of Arget Efri would doubtless assist. They have a fondness for southerners."

Yorvhaset leans the long-handled weapon against the stony floor, exhaling a quiet breath. "Thank you for your hospitality." He states formally to Ison, bowing stiffly. "I have enjoyed this visit. Please convey my gratitude to Princess Solaria."

You have emoted: Sarita lifts her brows, but otherwise doesn't react visibly to the comment.

Ankyrean Warlord Mazzion Cardinalis says to you, "The accent."

(House Bahir'an): Alice says, "I have compiled a few nnotes on what the Talon has spokenn of his own kind and lannds if you would like a report or the like, Khalifa."

Ison Nebre'seir says, "You are welcome anytime."

Yorvhaset coughs, a faint flush colouring his furred cheeks. "Your southerner names." He grunts, mopping at his brow and clearly embarrassed. "We are freshly come from Duiran. I apologise, Princess."

Ankyrean Warlord Mazzion Cardinalis says, "That trip could confuse anyone."

Duke Neron D'baen says to Ankyrean Warlord Mazzion Cardinalis, "That's putting it lightly."

Yorvhaset directs a deep, formal bow to you. "I will convey a favourable report to my queen." He states, stepping up to his taerilan. "Perhaps she will see fit to send another delegation."

Yorvhaset swiftly swings up onto an armoured silver taerilan.

Mazzion gives Yorvhaset a respectful salute.

Inclining his head, Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget says, "Until next time."


You have emoted: Sarita nods quietly to Yorvhaset, folding her hands together once more as she says, "I wish you a safe journey home."

Duke Neron D'baen says to Talon Yorvhaset, of the Nel Arget, "Walk Shadowed, Emissary."

Yorvhaset leaves to the west, riding an armoured silver taerilan.
He is followed by a mounted Grecht dragoon and an armoured Grecht dragoon.