A lot has happened since Hasclaan left his duties at the courts behind himself.
The days have been busy, his research in the matters of necromancy went well until the day he died.
He has no memory of what exactly happened but he was picked up by his wife after being reincarnated, the vampire and his love for her one of the few things that have not been changed by what happened.
The man looks at the mirror, the spells woven around it to make it useful for his wife as well causing some flickering but it is nothing he cannot just ignore.
A young man now looks back at him, raven hair intead of the old silvery white but the pale blue eyes still the same. Gone are his old scars but they have been replaced with a new one, a reminder of his carelessness.
Returning to their laboratory he looks at the bits of metal, bone and flesh on the table, his newest creation, ready to be assembled and animated.
He forgot a new but learn quickly again- thanks to the diligent notes he always took and Emila's help.
Using the skills aquired as a Fraternity researcher he swiftly finishes the small construct, giving a pleased smile as it twitches, then rises, a twisted homunculus.
It is a feeble, weak thing but it will serve its purpose- and it is also a symbol for his new life, for the new opportunities waiting for him.
Copies of his lab notes are already ready and he gives the construct its first order, to deliver the papers to the Bureau of Research together with his monthly report.
Donning wide grey robes and a hooded cloak he then heads out into the Hive, signalling to the devil who perched patiently on the building's roof to join him.
It is time to gather ressources for his next project.
A Wizard's Research Goes On...
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*Selebius
- Posts: 1073
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Hasclaan is tired, dark bags formed beneath his eyes showing the exertions of the last few days. Behind him his clockwork imp perches on one of the cages, the creature getting more advancedwith every upgrade. Hasclaan is sometimes surprised how fast it learns, how usefil it has been become.
The tiny creature flaps its devilflesh wings, cogs whirring and the lenses of its artificial eye gleam as they adjust themselves. It is relaxed, the tiny, poisonous claws retracted into their sheats but nevertheless the creature seems vigilant as if to mirror its creator's sometimes paranoid behavior.
The wizard wears simple cotton clothes under a leather apron today, his hands dirty with blood, mineral oil and embalming fluid. Upstairs he can hear Emila moving and he decides to end his work today early to spend more time with her. Quickly he returns his focus to the task before him, knowing he cannot allow himself to be distraced.
On the table in front of him rests his newest creation, a mix of clockwork parts and preserved Kalabon flesh. He allows himself a brief moment of satisfaction, examining the construct's armour and strong sinewy limbs. Its hands are not finished yet- there are fingers but he has yet to attack the tools and weapons he decided to use in this design.
It is his best work for now.
Making the clockwork parts was easy, gathering the Kalabon parts less so but the most difficult task was to get the permission to conduct this research.
Not from the Fraternity, the HQ on Mechanus gives him plenty of freedom and he still sends his reports both to them and the City Courts.
But navigating the devilish bureaucracy has not been easy. To gain what he wants without having to pay a price he cannot agree with- this has been a worthy challenge. He learned a lot though and of course the rules he discovers are included in his next report as well. In the end he gained the permission to enter Malbolge and to look into what happened there, a whole layer of Hell changed completely in just a few moments.
Of course he will do his best to avoid the plane's lord's... lady's.. attention, keeping what he does as subtle and out of the way as possible.
The door opens and an Erinyes descends the small flight of stairs, carrying a bundle under her arms. The mithral of her maille is dark, a bow and a long, two handed blade are carried on her back.
"Put the tools on the enchanting table Moira.. then you are free for today." He pays the devil no more attention as she follows his orders silently, the creature well aware of her status. Hasclaan goes back to work, finishes to adjust the gears in the construct's left hand, preparing them for the next step.
But not today.
Gathering the folders containing the last reports he has prepared he sends his clockwork imp to deliver them to the courts. After changing into fresh clothes and cleaning himself with a quick spell he heads up the stairs, looking forward to spend some time with 'his' vampire.
The tiny creature flaps its devilflesh wings, cogs whirring and the lenses of its artificial eye gleam as they adjust themselves. It is relaxed, the tiny, poisonous claws retracted into their sheats but nevertheless the creature seems vigilant as if to mirror its creator's sometimes paranoid behavior.
The wizard wears simple cotton clothes under a leather apron today, his hands dirty with blood, mineral oil and embalming fluid. Upstairs he can hear Emila moving and he decides to end his work today early to spend more time with her. Quickly he returns his focus to the task before him, knowing he cannot allow himself to be distraced.
On the table in front of him rests his newest creation, a mix of clockwork parts and preserved Kalabon flesh. He allows himself a brief moment of satisfaction, examining the construct's armour and strong sinewy limbs. Its hands are not finished yet- there are fingers but he has yet to attack the tools and weapons he decided to use in this design.
It is his best work for now.
Making the clockwork parts was easy, gathering the Kalabon parts less so but the most difficult task was to get the permission to conduct this research.
Not from the Fraternity, the HQ on Mechanus gives him plenty of freedom and he still sends his reports both to them and the City Courts.
But navigating the devilish bureaucracy has not been easy. To gain what he wants without having to pay a price he cannot agree with- this has been a worthy challenge. He learned a lot though and of course the rules he discovers are included in his next report as well. In the end he gained the permission to enter Malbolge and to look into what happened there, a whole layer of Hell changed completely in just a few moments.
Of course he will do his best to avoid the plane's lord's... lady's.. attention, keeping what he does as subtle and out of the way as possible.
The door opens and an Erinyes descends the small flight of stairs, carrying a bundle under her arms. The mithral of her maille is dark, a bow and a long, two handed blade are carried on her back.
"Put the tools on the enchanting table Moira.. then you are free for today." He pays the devil no more attention as she follows his orders silently, the creature well aware of her status. Hasclaan goes back to work, finishes to adjust the gears in the construct's left hand, preparing them for the next step.
But not today.
Gathering the folders containing the last reports he has prepared he sends his clockwork imp to deliver them to the courts. After changing into fresh clothes and cleaning himself with a quick spell he heads up the stairs, looking forward to spend some time with 'his' vampire.
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*Selebius
- Posts: 1073
- Joined: Thu Jan 01, 1970 12:00 am
Guunt returned from Mechanus, the wizard unusually nervous. He just forwarded his last reports to the Fraternity's HQ and while the wizard is at home in those halls of order he always feels to urge to flee them as well.
Books, records, old data collected centuries ago... this all has its worth but what he values more is new knowledge, is to walk a path noone else attempted (or dared) to walk before.
He hurries through the Lady's ward quickly, ignoring the people on the streets. Once again he adapts quickly- every society has its rules and by knowing them you become a part of it.
'This new face is an advantage', he thinks to himself.'Few here remember who I am.'
Pulling his hood up he passes past the Armoury and he ignores the Doomguards who gathered in the building's shadows. The politics in Sigil never really concerned him- and why should they? There is so much more to find out there, on the planes.
Ways to knowledge, ways to power. His steps get faster, his face determined and his eyes are hard now, hard and hungry. What he plans could be dangerous but if he suceeds he might learn one of Hell's greatest secrets. And more.
His movements changed with the surroundings, the Lower Ward a different place with different people and different rules. Yet he fits in again, finds his place, becomes just one easy to forget face in an neverending, busy crowd.
Suddenly he stops, his head moving to his right swiftly, the necromancer looking through the smog of the Lower Ward to the orange light that shines behind the houses to his right. Noticing his reactions Moira moves closer, the silent guardian landing on a rooftop nearby.
::The portal to the obsidian Flats:: She reports, using her race's telepathy to contact the human mage.
Hasclaan ignores her, he knows the portal well- perhaps better than anybody else in the Cage as it is one he monitored and studied for a long time and so he knows the signs of its activation.
But what startled him this time was a familiar feeling, a small part of himself returning to Sigil. There are only two creatures he every shared his blood and soul with and one link has faded- so it must be his clockwork imp returning to Sigil. Which of course means the vampire has returned as well.
He might not even aware of the smile but he hurries towards the building he rented, looking forward to meet Emila, to study what she caught.
It might be a key to understand the nature of the planes, the nature of the powers themselves.
To learn, to gain knowledge means to understand the rules. And once you know the rules you can find loopholes- to escape, to control, to guide, to destroy. To have power.
Books, records, old data collected centuries ago... this all has its worth but what he values more is new knowledge, is to walk a path noone else attempted (or dared) to walk before.
He hurries through the Lady's ward quickly, ignoring the people on the streets. Once again he adapts quickly- every society has its rules and by knowing them you become a part of it.
'This new face is an advantage', he thinks to himself.'Few here remember who I am.'
Pulling his hood up he passes past the Armoury and he ignores the Doomguards who gathered in the building's shadows. The politics in Sigil never really concerned him- and why should they? There is so much more to find out there, on the planes.
Ways to knowledge, ways to power. His steps get faster, his face determined and his eyes are hard now, hard and hungry. What he plans could be dangerous but if he suceeds he might learn one of Hell's greatest secrets. And more.
His movements changed with the surroundings, the Lower Ward a different place with different people and different rules. Yet he fits in again, finds his place, becomes just one easy to forget face in an neverending, busy crowd.
Suddenly he stops, his head moving to his right swiftly, the necromancer looking through the smog of the Lower Ward to the orange light that shines behind the houses to his right. Noticing his reactions Moira moves closer, the silent guardian landing on a rooftop nearby.
::The portal to the obsidian Flats:: She reports, using her race's telepathy to contact the human mage.
Hasclaan ignores her, he knows the portal well- perhaps better than anybody else in the Cage as it is one he monitored and studied for a long time and so he knows the signs of its activation.
But what startled him this time was a familiar feeling, a small part of himself returning to Sigil. There are only two creatures he every shared his blood and soul with and one link has faded- so it must be his clockwork imp returning to Sigil. Which of course means the vampire has returned as well.
He might not even aware of the smile but he hurries towards the building he rented, looking forward to meet Emila, to study what she caught.
It might be a key to understand the nature of the planes, the nature of the powers themselves.
To learn, to gain knowledge means to understand the rules. And once you know the rules you can find loopholes- to escape, to control, to guide, to destroy. To have power.