The Keeper of Secrets

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Grand Marshal (GL)
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The Keeper of Secrets

Post by MalagAste » Sun Dec 09, 2012 9:58 am

Malag-aste awoke early and slipped silently from bed, not wanting to wake his wife. He quietly donned his armor and robes and strode silently down the hall and into his office where he began to review a few reports from both the Inn and the Craft Hall. He was approving some purchase requests when he started to feel the scar on his right bicep begin to burn. He clamped his left hand over the scar and set his quill back in its well.
A slight scowl crossed his face as his mind turned to the past and briefly recounted the removal of his house brand from his arm. He winced slightly remembering when Indra cut it from his flesh and placed her own house brand upon his arm below it. The scowled turned to a sneer as he recalled cutting her brand from his own flesh. He was now halfway across the woods between his Keep and the Crypts when he spat in distaste at the memory of Indra Tor’ahel. He shook his head and cleared his mind. He knew his scar only burned now when Setatabon called for him.
Entering the Crypt Malag recoiled slightly at the stench of death that always permeated the lower level where Setatabon often worked. He pushed open the heavy doors and called out, “Xunroos, Usstan tlun ghil ussta Dalninuk doer doeb lu' telanth xuil uns'aa.” (Xunroos, I am here my Brother come out and speak with me.)
“Ditronw gaer ussta Dalninuk uss klew'ar,” (Right there my Brother one moment.) Setatabon replied.
Malag paced the small entry keeping close to the exit where the air was fresher. Within a few moments the Incubus Setatabon entered the little room. They spoke to one another in their native Drowish language, not because they feared anyone listening but because it was what came natural to them.
“I am glad you came so quickly Brother. I am close to an answer for your Squire, the one who suffers from the curse.” Setatabon told him.
“Oh good I’m sure she will be very pleased to hear that. But why did you summon me?” Malag asked a bit apprehensive.
“Well I know now what I need only it won’t be easy to obtain.” Setatabon told him. “I have been studying the spells used upon the young one and I’m quite certain they are of the same origin as the ones your Mother used to use on the captured Goblins and Illithids to keep them from using magic. Though it is perverted and diluted. I am certain they were meant for her Mother though they have been passed to the child before birth. What I require is to know the spell of your mother if I am to counter it.”
“You know that is a forbidden request.” Malag said looking at his friend somewhat horrified.
“I know. It would have been part of the conditioning… one that she would have hidden from you. I ask only that you try. You know most dark magic has the same origins. I am sure this spell will not have been too different than those of your Mother.” The demon said, “But for the sake of the young female you should at least try. Is she not worth the price?”
Malag felt the dark side of his soul rise as he thought to himself, No. No human, female or other is worth that much pain. Let the female die from her curse. A sharp pain in his side brought the dark elf from his thoughts. “Yes. I owe this to Ren and Ailieve. They are now beyond my help but I will do this for their child. You will have your spell my Brother.” With that Malag strode from the crypts his thoughts now turning to his past again. Once again he would have to betray his house and draw out the secrets that lay locked away in the deep recesses of his mind. He slid up the stairs of the Craft Hall and into his hidden temple. Here he had built a room as close as he could to his Mothers study. A room he had spent more time in than he could remember. The house of Hla-ate was very well known across all of Ra’Dashan for its knowledge of Magic and its ability to keep that knowledge secret. They kept no spell scrolls, no books and no records. All history and records were painstakingly memorized and guarded by painful barriers only to be accessed by the Matron Mother. Few in the house were privileged to know where it was kept or how it was accessed. His mother had the knowledge and she placed it within him. Should she die it was necessary to keep record of it in another source to pass on to the next Matron. Malag knew he was not the only source but only his mother knew all of them.
Malag stood before the carving of the spider and slid his fingers along one of its legs. He stopped at a point and pressed hard against the stone. A small section of stone slid in and then down as he passed his hand into the new opening. He gently pulled on a small rope inside the opening and turned as a stone slide out from the wall. Inside the stone rested a very gruesome item. Malag reached in and pulled a dark skinned hand from the stone. The hand was perfectly preserved and almost nearly as supple and alive feeling as the day he had removed from its owner, his dead mother. A small bit of forearm remained with the hand about four to six inches in length. At the base of the severed forearm as a cap of gold with rubies, diamonds and emeralds set around it. A couple of rings in shapes of spiders were around the index finger and ring finger, the nails were long, pointed and painted black. Malag carried the hand to the center of the nearby Abbatoir. Setting the hand gently at his feet Malag slid out of his robe and laid it off to the side. Next he removed his tunic, sleeves, gorget and gloves. Now dressed only in his pants and boots he knelt upon the Abbatoir facing the wall with the spider carved into it.
Malag reached down and picked up the hand once again. He took a deep breath and looked down upon his chest. Grasping the hand by the severed arm he carefully placed the fingers of the hand on specific runes within the golden tattoos on his chest. He closed his eyes and spoke in the voice of his Mother. His words were in an ancient drow language and unlike those he typically spoke but he pronounced them fluently working the magic of the hand. Blue flame rose from the fingertips and made a path up along a couple of arcs of gold around the runes on his chest. The blue light of fire then penetrated his skin and rose up his neck where they vanished deep inside his head. His eyes rolled back into his skull as he began to chant softly using his Mother’s voice once again. The ancient words almost sounded like a song as he slipped into an unconscious state.
Malag felt himself back in the Study of his Mother. He shuddered slightly as she held her hand to his head. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the illithid she kept pacing nearby. His head felt as if she was stabbing thru his skull with a red hot poker, but he dare not move. For months she worked her spells and transferred all manner of knowledge into his mind, some he could sense most he could not. For over 40 years prior she had spent countless hours training him with all types of torment and abuse so he could seal and protect his mind and thoughts and keep anyone from accessing his mind. She tormented him with physical torture, sexual torture, spells, and even employed the illithids to try to pry into his mind before she would entrust him with what she now crammed into his mind. All the history and knowledge of his house was entrusted to him. Best put safely there as no other house would ever dream that they would entrust such to a mere male. But Malag had proved himself time and time again. Malag caught fleeting glimpses of everything she passed on to him. Hundreds of spells, potions, wards and such were transferred to him. Spells for healing, spells for killing, spells for torture, spells for pleasure, and potions to cure, potions to destroy, potions to drain, potions to control and wards to protect, to repel, to lure and ensnare. But with the finish of each session of transfer came the locks she placed, the burning of his flesh and his mind. She protected the knowledge with ancient spells and symbols which she and the illithid tattooed upon his chest with golden ink. The process was often filled with such pain that many who underwent it died before it was complete, but Malag endured it now dozens of times over. He sought the memory and the lock now scanning every recess of his mind until at last he knew he had it. Drained and exhausted from the pain he forced himself to remove the hand from his chest.
Now back in the present Malag brought forth the knowledge long buried. His mind burned until blood ran from his eyes and nose but he managed to extract what was required. The spell would befuddle all magic. Malag pulled himself from his thoughts and put pen to paper as quickly as possible writing the needed ingredients on a paper.
• 100 Sulfurish Ash from the Fire Steed
• 40 Scales of the Ancient Wyrm in the fiery Vulcanic Lair
• 60 Logs from the charred forests of Malas
• Animal Pheromone from the Fire Rabbit
• Pieces of Deamon Bone armor from the effrets near Fire Entrance in the Lost Lands
• 20 Vials of Green Goblin Blood
• 20 Crusts from the Lava Serpents in the Abyss
• Head of the Styngian Dragon
• Deamon Claws from the Fire Deamons of Lava Lake Ter Mur (as many as required for all who need access)

He then wrote the basics of the spell upon the paper.
Make a ring around the victim with the logs then surround the logs with the Scales and crusts, put the victim in the armor douse the armor with the goblin blood, place the head over the victim, each one who wishes to have control over the victim holds a claw as you set the logs on fire with fields of fire and all chant:
[tab=30]Zen An Ort Kal Zen Ort Jux
[tab=30]Usst a clor hwuen astu (Mine by rite until undone)

This spell will prevent the victim or others from using working spells of magic either on the victim or near the victim. However those bound to the victim and controlling the victim with the claw will retain the ability to perform magic upon them.
Malag returned and handed the paper to Setatabon and then with the last of his strength went home to rest.
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