The Apostles of the Crypt

The black clouds slowly covered the sky as the sun set to the west of town, blanketing the sky in darkness, Maya Do'Urden recived a message, the same that Azarot and Burnx would be recieving this night. Bowing her head low Maya grins to herself, and draws the hood of her cloak low over her face and flits through the shadows as the suns rays vanish. Maya walks through the back alleys of town, darting here and there, and then stops near the deserted end of town, A few undead walk toward her, realising she is as them, Vanish back into the night. At this point two other men arrive into the shaddowed alley way, and approach Maya together the three of them step into the darkness and through a well hidden door. The three now stood in a cold and dark room, turning to each other they stand quiet a moment, observing each other soon Azarot breaks the silence "So we are to guide the Apostles now.... To restore to fix, to birth those who call the crypt home ?" He looks to the other two smiling slightly, Maya grins sickly to herself a moment "I guess that is to be so, Survival of the fittest from this point on.. " Maya snickers to herself caught up on her own private joke. The others look to Maya curiously a moment and shrug slightly, The three nod to themselves, and again look to each other, "Now I belive it is time to welcome our family home? Burnx asks before bowing low and Vanishing from sight. Maya turns to Azarot and curtseys lightly, as she watches Azarot depart, Maya walks to the doorway and whispers to herself "It begins... " and vanishes into the shadows. 

Altared Beginning 4

As Danthor walked back through the streets of Westbridge, he looked around, absorbing all the sights and smells of the bustling tradetown. His hand strayed down to his waist, where a gempouch was firmly tied to his belt. He turned east at Market Square and followed the all-too-familiar route back to the Isle of Mystra's Dance. Once there, he sought out Seline, thinking to share his finds with her, and ask her opinion on some aspects of their new finding. "Seline," Danthor greeted his friend and colleague. "I've got some things for you." Seline watched intently as Danthor disentangled the gempouch from his belt and poured its contents out before her. Seline swiped the gems up in one hand and dumped them back into the pouch, tucking them away somewhere on her person. Danthor smiled, shrugged, assumed that Seline had a use for them, or just liked treasure, and made his way off to his study. A short while later, Danthor returned to the infirmary to check on Seline. He found her dreaming, tossing furiously in her sleep, muttering strange words. Deciding to let her sleep her supposed fever off (she seemed to be suffering from no physical ailments), Danthor made his way back down to the altar, deep beneath their place of residence. As he rounded the final corner in the tunnel leading down to the lake, Danthor noticed a strange, soft, glowing light emanating from the area around the waterfall. Danthor increased his pace, hustling furiously toward the altar.. And what is THIS?!" A circle of white light{s flickered and beamed forth from the previously empty corner on the top of the altar, and where there were once pockmarks lay the nine most rare of the gems he had given to Seline. "It seems this thing has been activated by Seline.. at least in some manner. This must not be allowed to continue until its purpose is made clear. But, the mystery of this thing is killing me. I must know its purpose .. I must know how our Church can use it to our advantage, if there is one. I thirst for this knowledge more than any other. 'Tis a great mystery, this .. and I intend to solve it."

Altared Beginning 3

Danthor made a quick stop at the bank on his way to the Westbridge jeweller. He had an eye out for any stones, jewels, rocks.. any sort of gem that had a strange cut. Danthor turned north as he left the bank, making his way up Main Street. As he drew nearer to Market Square, the smells of Tom's Bakery wafted towards him. He turned his thoughts and his face back toward the jeweller's store, and stepped through the door. He approached the counter, and looked to the rather fragile man behind it. "I'd like to buy all the rare gems you have, good sir." The jeweller snorted in derision as he reached down below the counter. "Aye, and I'd like to be king. I've got some gems for ya, but how'm I to be sure you've got the coin, eh?" Danthor swiftly pulled a large coin pouch from his belt. It was bulging with the shapes of various coins from around the Realm. The jeweller's eyes grew as big as saucers as he reached eagerly for the pouch. "All.. every last gem you have, sir, and this pouch is yours." Danthor leaned in, blocking the dim light, making himself seem larger than normal.

Altared Beginning 2

As Seline's body fell back, what came into view was something like Danthor had never seen before; a three-sided altar, standing at about four feet high and two feet wide at the largest section. Its stone edges were rough from ages of weathering, with three large pockmarks on each side; various other, smaller, pockmarks, obviously causd by time covered its rough surface . Recessed in the top was a large bowl. Around the bowl were inscribed three daggers and three lightning bolts pointing toward it, with a small hole in the center of the bowl. Upon inspecting it closer, Danthor found a hole at the top of each cluster of pockmarks leading in towards the basin. Danthor slowly sat back in amazement at what he saw. "What in the name of Mystra IS it?" Danthor asked of no-one and everyone. Simbul was not so easily distracted from the matter at hand. She took one look down at the unconscious bleeding Seline, and lifted her in the air with a word and a motion and placed her body on a floating disc. Simbul's eyes grew large as she realized she had just cast a spell she had never recited before. Danthor turned his head and very slowly a little smile crawled across his face, and then, just as suddenly was gone. As Danthor and Simbul made their way quickly back to Mystra's priestess, Danthor had but a few moments to sort all of this out. 'This could be some rare artifact, something with which the Keepers could preserve their findings. Or it could also be the destruction that we seek so heartily to prevent. We must be cautious in our advances with this .. thing. Yet, I cannot just ignore it. Those pockmarks seemed to have many different shapes; Some almost looked like stones. I shall see what I can find in the Realms that come close to those shapes, and seek knowledge of this thing from my fellow Keepers. Nothing further must I do until more is known about this thing and its origin.'

Altared Beginning 1

The lights played off the shimmering waterfall as Danthor, Simbul and Seline made their way through the tunnel. As the three approached the edge of the lake, they turned and silently followed it toward the waterfall. The three walked in a single-file line, Danthor in the middle. As Seline stooped to duck under a few loose, crawling vines, she turned her head slightly towards Danthor, a trancelike look upon her face. This was not the serene half-elf that he had come to know so well. This was the face of someone in distress. As Seline rigidly approached the waterfall, Danthor and Simbul turned to exchange a silent glance. Once there, Danthor stood back from the other two, wondering what could possibly be found so deep in the recesses of Mystra's Isle. Danthor leaned in a bit closer, lowering his voice .. "Do you know why she has brought us here?" "I must admit, I am not sure. Though it seems she is about to reveal her purpose," replied Simbul. Danthor nodded, slowly, eyes squinched shut against the moist, almost saturated, air. "Aye, but she does not seem herself." As the two slowly turned their gazes back to Seline, they noticed that she had already made her way through the waterfall and out into a hidden cavern on the other side. The two colleagues strode forward intently, moving as one, curious as to this area previously unknown to Mystra's Chosen. As Danthor stepped quickly after Simbul through the rushing water, he was taken aback at what he saw there. Seline, on all fours, was digging frantically, almost mechanically, at the ground, clawing and ripping up chunks of earth and wood. Her hands had become bloody ribbons by this point, but the distraught half-elf seemed determined to unearth something in this dark, damp place. All the while, Seline continuously muttered "One for you, one for me, and one for Eternity. One for you, one for me, and one for eternity" in a deep feverish voice. Simbul stood passively aside, awaiting the completion of Seline's mysterious task. Shocked, Danthor knelt beside Seline, thinking to aid her in her efforts, until ..looking into her eyes, Danthor senses another's emotions, thoughts and, most of all, fear. Danthor leapt back to Simbul's side, frantically moving towards Seline, then away, towards, then away. Before Danthor could decide on what action to take, Seline sat back, obviously exhausted and bleeding profusely from her hands, and fainted.

Time of Ages

Journal Entry 507 With the passing of my wife, and the coming and going or people around me. I've lost my sense of time again while in stupor. Twenty years have now past since I've walked among the living. Long has it been since I've seen the rising and setting of the sun. The fresh air on my face, the gentle breeze, the city of Westbridge below the beautiful visage from my castle in the clouds. Hidden up above Westbridge I feel safe as I watch the day to day goings on of the citizens below. The hunger for blood a faint tickle in the back of my head. The emptiness and loneliness of my soul more tearing at my sanity. The loss of my wife and friends there after has left me barren inside. The only reason I exist now is to guard my great treasure hoard and fend of the attacks of minor liches try to upsurp my power. The power of my ancient blood attracks them like moths to the flame. My adopted children off in another world with their uncle, I contemplate going back ito stupor until they return. The calmness around almost frightning, no clan squabbling, hardly any murders or rival clan killings. The cleanliness and sereness of the city, the almost dead quietness of Market Square make the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Something is amiss, rising from my bench I cast an invisibility spell on myself taught to me by my old friend Kineada. Pulling the sacred Tchazzar sword from its hiding place that maoi gave me i strap it on my back and prepare for the flight down to the city. Casting a fly spell I descending quietly down to market square without the cityguards noticing. Quietly I walk down many familiar rodes looking at the changes that have overcome the city. The entrance to the Hall of Sune's temple before me, shivers run down my back. Many memories flash in my head, a sadness over comes me causing a tear of my precious blood to form a small tear. Many friends lie within the hall I can feel their presence. A great urge to rush in almost overwhelms me. Using all my will I turn away. Casting a dimesion spell I form a portal to Healing Wound Inn. I step through the portal the smell of blood rekindles the urge to feed. Quickly running down many alleys i make it to the guildhall of Vampires. I preform the secret rituals quickly and procure a bottle of blood to quench my thirst. With a great sigh I realize my earlier thoughts we correct. I must sleep again... this existence bores me until the children return I have no reason to be awake. Casting another dimesions spell I return to my sacred castle in the clouds. Opening my casket, a great sadnes washes over me as i bid this existence ado until I wake again. Slowly i climb in and close the casket enter the sweet stupor and loosing almost all awareness. A peacefull smile comes to my lips, I close my eyes and sleep.

Punishment

Bannor lifted his head, he saw the school, heard the voices of the new and the brave, realised where he was. Westbridge, his old haunt. He smiled, thoughts flashed "back, I'm back". Bannor tried to stand but the weight on his back held him down. And so began his doom. Divination had revealed the hand of some unknown god, some twisted uber-being with a warped sense of humour had had the last laugh. Bannor's once powerful body was now a wreck, his arms, once brawny and rippling with muscle were now capable of lifting nothing heavier than a dagger or a light staff, his back, once the bearer of great weights was now thin and almost bent double, the signs of a hunch-back evident.. His days as a sword-wielder were over. The only saving grace was a strengthening of mind, a closer affinity to the weave. The real curse was not the decrepitation of body but the undeniable irrefusable inability to commit the acts of his prior life, oh he'd tried, but the resulting pain was intense and so, his life was lived, no joy, no satisfaction, just pain or mediocrity, the only minor satisfaction gained was the improving of his ability to work magics, the only inspiration, reason, to live was the desire to learn the name of the one who had so cursed him.