Murk Altov
Member
- Messages
- 23
A steady march of stone feet animated by gleaming gem locomotion did make steady parade, a quadruped statue that did lumber with assurance about the precious creation that was clutched in numerous small firm hands. Draped by thick velvet, affixed by cords of silver that shimmered in warding tension, the flat wide circle of whatever was being hefted was clutched and carted with all safety; stone hands clasped firmly about the frame of what had been brought to such a place as this dwarven city of architectural triumphs without fear of human error. Four stone feet placed themselves in militaristic march to the steady strike of obsidian stone cane that did offer low tattoo as it strike the dwarven carved stone. The animated golem itself six feet by six feet, the circle clutched atop it.
To the heel of the master illusionist did this golem keep close. One Murk Alov, draped in iridescent luxuries and trappings of arcane powers far beyond his academic kin, had come to place under the protections of the only one he knew was worthy of his Art's bounty.
To be contained and protected until the moment the realm did need of it. Murk had deliberated muchly upon who should steward such a potent creation. Yet all except Zharzohved Vaultkeeper were deemed capable, worthy and integral enough for the task ahead. The humans of magic would fade before the moment demanded of them, the halls of wizened academics would pry and argue and debate as Murk did loathe them for, the gnomes would disassemble and chatter endlessly to which Murk was patient most times, and the rest lacked the pedigree, wit, prestige or seriousness of the one he sought to the matter of containment.
On his journey, Murk had sent waves of hallucinatory terrain made manifest and terrifying in flaring tempers to those who might tamper with his creation's sojourn. He kept his nerve by lashing out with every passion he had to protect his own erstaz emulation of the sun's fierceness, his own reachings of the seer pools of ancient races who did feel fate's vision in such waters. The device was multifaceted and could doom a minor mage to arcane blindness by their attempts to command his device, and more precious dooms besides that awaited those who might seek to ride the titantic waves that it could create upon the shores of reality.
Murk Altov knew he himself was a man of ambition, such set him apart and forward beyond his kin into the lonely peaks of power's ziggeraut by sacrifice and dedication. Isolation. His one indulgence, his ward, Bubkiss Widewallow, now left in favour to create and bring his such cargo to this point in his own career. His own obligation. He had foregone his foster child to deliver this device to the world, to be protected, caged and cloistered in the only reliquary that might hope to hold it.
What Murk needed now in service of what years had been spent in the construction and enchantment of this artefact was a steward of ambitious responsibility, one who could seal his creation under bolt and ward, against the good, against the evil, and most of all, against those who were not worthy to know of it's existence until the fateful moment it was required of the world. Only one dwarf deserved the respect of Murk in this matter.
To The Lord of the Deepvaults did the master illusionist and golem march with protective purpose and fate's eyes fixed upon them.
And beneath the velvet cover and clutched with stone hand, did quicksilver smothered and guarded surface did stare back at fate's eyes wantingly.
It was to the Lord of Deepvaults that Murk walked, proud and eyes sharp to danger that might snatch, knowing full well the statue that did march could thrust palm out against the fool who might fumble into the cherished device. But he knew that his glare and glamour was more than enough to promote discretion in those that might pry, if not forceful reminder that there were mages would should not be troubled, delayed or distracted by foolery. His cloak did shimmer with shades beyond the physical realm, promising all hells and heavens to those who merely gazed with wanton mischief.
The cane did place upon the ground as the city of Belgrath was host to him and his creation, Murk's journey to reach the Vaultkeeper was soon to reach it's culmination.
And from the Dark did the scrying eyes of those who sought to render that device a thousand futile pieces did bid their powers wait, abide, and plotted to render follies of masterplans nearing complete execution of the device's rehoming.
Zharzohved Vaultkeeper
To the heel of the master illusionist did this golem keep close. One Murk Alov, draped in iridescent luxuries and trappings of arcane powers far beyond his academic kin, had come to place under the protections of the only one he knew was worthy of his Art's bounty.
To be contained and protected until the moment the realm did need of it. Murk had deliberated muchly upon who should steward such a potent creation. Yet all except Zharzohved Vaultkeeper were deemed capable, worthy and integral enough for the task ahead. The humans of magic would fade before the moment demanded of them, the halls of wizened academics would pry and argue and debate as Murk did loathe them for, the gnomes would disassemble and chatter endlessly to which Murk was patient most times, and the rest lacked the pedigree, wit, prestige or seriousness of the one he sought to the matter of containment.
On his journey, Murk had sent waves of hallucinatory terrain made manifest and terrifying in flaring tempers to those who might tamper with his creation's sojourn. He kept his nerve by lashing out with every passion he had to protect his own erstaz emulation of the sun's fierceness, his own reachings of the seer pools of ancient races who did feel fate's vision in such waters. The device was multifaceted and could doom a minor mage to arcane blindness by their attempts to command his device, and more precious dooms besides that awaited those who might seek to ride the titantic waves that it could create upon the shores of reality.
Murk Altov knew he himself was a man of ambition, such set him apart and forward beyond his kin into the lonely peaks of power's ziggeraut by sacrifice and dedication. Isolation. His one indulgence, his ward, Bubkiss Widewallow, now left in favour to create and bring his such cargo to this point in his own career. His own obligation. He had foregone his foster child to deliver this device to the world, to be protected, caged and cloistered in the only reliquary that might hope to hold it.
What Murk needed now in service of what years had been spent in the construction and enchantment of this artefact was a steward of ambitious responsibility, one who could seal his creation under bolt and ward, against the good, against the evil, and most of all, against those who were not worthy to know of it's existence until the fateful moment it was required of the world. Only one dwarf deserved the respect of Murk in this matter.
To The Lord of the Deepvaults did the master illusionist and golem march with protective purpose and fate's eyes fixed upon them.
And beneath the velvet cover and clutched with stone hand, did quicksilver smothered and guarded surface did stare back at fate's eyes wantingly.
It was to the Lord of Deepvaults that Murk walked, proud and eyes sharp to danger that might snatch, knowing full well the statue that did march could thrust palm out against the fool who might fumble into the cherished device. But he knew that his glare and glamour was more than enough to promote discretion in those that might pry, if not forceful reminder that there were mages would should not be troubled, delayed or distracted by foolery. His cloak did shimmer with shades beyond the physical realm, promising all hells and heavens to those who merely gazed with wanton mischief.
The cane did place upon the ground as the city of Belgrath was host to him and his creation, Murk's journey to reach the Vaultkeeper was soon to reach it's culmination.
And from the Dark did the scrying eyes of those who sought to render that device a thousand futile pieces did bid their powers wait, abide, and plotted to render follies of masterplans nearing complete execution of the device's rehoming.
Zharzohved Vaultkeeper
