by jadewik » May 13th, 2008, 9:52 pm
Curulan:
It had been quite a while since Curulan returned to his home. His duties in Titan take up most of his time, so he entrusts his duties as King of Dorias and High King of Arda to a regent.
As he walks through the halls of Castle Derest, named for Queen-General Cardia Derest -- the previous monarch in Dorias and the host to the Carisar during Arda's Second Darkness War -- he greets a few members of the House of Nobles. He doesn't stop to chat long, since he has more important business than idle conversation.
Curulan exits the Castle and ventures into the hustling metropolis of the Royal City of Dorias, capital city of the Kingdom of Dorias. To the newcomer, it would appear strange; high-technology and medieval buildings seem to coexist. It's not uncommon to find a thirty-story or taller hi-rise next to an old-style tavern or store. Dorias is clearly a city that values expansion and development while still staying true to its history.
Curulan walks down the main mall, passing one of the city's many parks, and turns down a side street to a building that looks like it's been standing there forever, which isn't that far from the truth. On the grounds of the old Royal Palace, which was removed when Castle Derest was erected, stands the Royal Library -- the largest repository of knowledge, lore, and legend on Arda, possibly Arda's whole galaxy.
Entering the Library, he nods to the librarian in attendance, then walks down to the Archives. At the desk, an older-looking man sits. A man Curulan knows well.
"Garric!" Curulan walks over to the old man, who turns around and smiles. What little hair is left on Garric's head is white and tufted. The two walk up to each other and embrace for a moment. "I thought you'd be on the Platform by now."
"What, you thought that you and my son were the only two of our ilk who stayed behind? You know I couldn't leave this old planet. Besides, I was never cut out for the Mediators anyway; I'd much rather study my books than battle plans and tactics." Garric says the last four words as though he were talking about a plate of rancid meat. "But you're not here to listen to an old Immortal's rambling. Now, I haven't seen you since your coronation. That's been... well, almost two years now. Keeping busy in Dragon Court I assume?"
"Yes. But I'm not here to catch up, I'm afraid. I'm here on business of a personal nature."
Curulan explains what has been going on with his wife Ebon-Ashe and the symptoms, finally showing the onyx to the old archivist. Garric examines it for a moment.
"Well, it's definitely onyx. Rather high-quality too, by the looks of it. Other than the edge where it was broken off, it's still in perfect condition. I think we'll need to go down to the Old Archives for this one. Follow me."
Garric leads Curulan down to one of the deep vaults of the library, into a room occupied by a machine and wooden pedestal. The Head Archivist places the onyx shard into a tray on the machine and presses a button. A light flashes above the tray, tracing the contours of the shard. On a display screen, words and numbers scroll down showing the various properties of the onyx. Garric reads this, and emits a single hmm.
Finally, the man turns to Curulan and looks at him levelly.
"If you had brought this to me under different pretenses, I'd be excited. This is a very rare and valuable find."
Curulan looks at Garric, then to the onyx shard. "What is it?"
Garric turns back to the machine and speaks to it. "Compile all known lore on the Shadow Mages of Ghalek, Planet Terix, Ardan Galaxy, Bet Universe."
On the pedestal next to the machine, a large book materializes. Garric walks over to it and Curulan follows. The older man open the tome and pages through to an illustration of a black dagger. Garric stands as if he was preparing to lecture a class.
"What you brought me was a shard from a Dagger of Semu, primarily ceremonial artifacts carved whole out of large onyx deposits and used primarily by the Shadow Mages of Ghalek who used to live on Terix, located near the center of our own galaxy. Your Mediators led an expedition to exterminate them about five thousand years ago and were mostly successful. My son led it, if you remember."
"I remember the campaign. I was afraid we lost Glofinje there. But what do you mean by mostly successful?"
Garric nods. "You weren't the only one worried about him. But when I say mostly successful, I mean that one of them escaped. A contingent was sent out to chase the High Mage G'hal'ret, but he eluded even the Mediators. He vanished entirely, taking the last of the Daggers of Semu with him. The others, the Mediators destroyed so that they could never be used again."
"So what does this mean?" Curulan seems to be nervous, an emotion he rarely shows.
"It means, my old friend, that either G'hal'ret or one of his apprentices has come out of hiding and is trying to rebuild the Empire of Ghalek."
"So you are saying that this dagger has something to do with Ebon." It was a statement, not a question.
"Exactly so. Judging from what you told me, I think she has been affected by the blood curse carried by this dagger. The dagger we couldn't account for was the one used to corrupt others so that they could be inducted into the Mages' clutch. It effectively changes them into Lesser Vampires, not like the noble Greater Vampires we have here on Arda... right."
Garric clears his throat and continues. "The wound itself is entirely physical; there's nothing magical about it, which makes it very hard to defend against. The curse doesn't take effect until it enters the bloodstream, where it causes several effects, two of which are most obvious. First, it causes the amnesia that you described. Of course, her memories aren't gone, just blocked.
"Secondly, since Lesser Vampires have a deadly allergic reaction to ultra-violet light, it causes the melanin of the skin to darken, much like the Drow mutation."
Curulan sighs. "Well, I can understand the skin, but why the amnesia?"
"Simple psychology, actually. If one has no memory of or strong connection to their friends and allies, they are much easier to indoctrinate, or reprogram if necessary."
Curulan nods, fully understanding the implications here. "So, what do we do about it?"
Garric sighs, seemingly distraught. "Well, if we had the whole dagger, breaking the curse would be simple. However, since it appears that the dagger has been damaged, it's very possible that it has been destroyed, as well... which leaves us to the only other method for stopping a continuous spell."
Curulan nods slowly, remembering many missions of that kind he performed for the Mediators in the many years before his coming to Titan. "Releasing the soul of the one who cast it."
"Exactly. I believe that if we can send the soul of the Shadow Mage, or acolyte as the case may be, to Judgment, the curse will be released from Ebon with few ill effects. However, you may want to bring her memories back before that..."
"And how do I go about that?" Curulan is very concerned for Ebon and he is eager to take any chance of bringing her back to him.
"Oh, that's the simple part. Any reasonably-skilled Mind Mage should be able to release the block. Even though your talents in that field focus mainly on communication and protection, your raw power should compensate. After all, releasing a memory block isn't much different from unraveling a spell weave... and that is something you specialize in."
"So if I bring back her memories, it's likely that she'll be able to tell us where the one who did this to her is, and we can work on stopping it." Curulan nods, his next course set. He turns to hurry out, but Garric stops him.
"One more thing... I hear that she is in possession of one of the Daggers of the Nine Hells?"
"Yes. The key, if I remember correctly, but she doesn't know its true identity."
"Well, that's not the important part. The important part is that it's anti-magic properties can help protect her, slow down the curse. It won't stop the curse from consuming her, but it will buy more time."
"How long do you think we have before she is turned?"
"Three, four weeks. Maybe a month, if she's lucky."
Curulan nods, knowing that time is indeed of the essence, and dashes back out of the library, shouting a "Thank you!" to his old friend.