Khalmarnasa Nol'Akra Dis the Crafty Mistress of the Undead, Imperial Dread Lady

Role

Chapter 11

Long the Mummy pondered her weakening form. Battles and misadventures had
taken their toll, even know she heard the banshee's wail, but time was not her
enemy, for she had mastered that. She surmised her shell would survive perhaps five
more failings, then it would be too weak to retain her dark spirit. Now was the time
to find some remedy. The Lord Destuvius had granted her some greater vigor a great time past.
Perhaps, just perhaps there was another bargain to be made. He had mentioned the dark rituals
known to the Mistress of the Coven, and Khalmarnasa had attempted, and failed to reach her.
Was Davarrah no longer interested in her after she had chosen to take the path to the Conservator?
Perhaps she did not think her worthy of such dark knowledge?
Khalmarnasa bent her dead brow over a sheaf of parchments, measuring the coffers of the Black Sect
Celent, he had been promoted once more to serve as her Warlock, but where was he?
The Dread Lady had fought longer than she could remember. Many times at the head of a host, and
many times alone, facing a host. She had nurtured Celent and brought him to power. Now then,
now was the time for repayment, for him to show his true loyalty to his Dread Lady, the Empire
and the Grand Design. She would offer Lord Destuvius Celent's weapon, filled with the howling souls
of those she had provided him the chance to reap.
If her Liege could use the power in the weapon to restore her fully to vitality, then Celent
would have indeed earned his place.
Yes the lost of his powerful weapon would be a blow to the Empire, but he roamed the lands
rarely. What better way for those souls to serve the Grand Design than to reinvigorate the Dread Lady.
What was more terrifying to the forces of light and chaos, the occasional stirring of Celent with his
weapon of great power, or her, stalking the realm till time ground her form into dust.

Yes, this was the way. Now she must reach her Lord and obtain his blessing, then, only then, Celent
would face his test of loyalty, or know what disloyalty meant.

Role

Chapter 10

Chapters 1-9 we re-added due to a bug which ate them

Role

Chapter 9

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The extraction was a brief, intense pain, like none other she had felt in her
mortal life. The sensation of every fiber of her body and mind being
stretched to its breaking point, and then, silence, blackness, nothingness.
Then in the utter silence and blackness something flickered. The sensation of
being remained, suspended in a timeless void of pure shadow. This then, the
flicker that was Khalmarnasa thought, is the Plane of Shadows, the nether
realm of death, the source of power for the necromancer. Within the void she
floated and to eyes that were not eyes came visions: mighty creatures of
shadow, flights of dark beasts of pure shadow rising through the skies, and a
mighty necropolis, vast in its expanse, teeming with unlife. She viewed this
world as though it were encased in a globe of smoky glass, like a child's
curio, a scene of wonder. Yet at times the sense was it was just the
opposite, and it was she who was encased within the confines and this world
of wonder was external. Hours, days, months, years, she could not tell, her
mind formless, her thoughts without bounds. Then, just as she thought her
conscious thoughts might evaporate in the shadows, a chant came to her,
familiar words: the rites of resurrection!

Slowly the incantation began to tug at her essence and again the feeling of
being stretched to the point of breaking, pain, such pain, physical pain,
shocking to a mind that had forgotten what the sense of physical being was.
The words of the Conservator reach a crescendo overwhelming her ears, and
suddenly, her undead eyes flash open! Darkness, yet tangible darkness, not
the blackness of the shadow realm. Raising her undead hands up, she regards
them with no small wonder and rises from the slab on which her soulless body
has remained for so long. The Conservator is no where to be seen, his work
done, and she is alone in the dark. Tilting back her undead head, she cackles
in malevolent triumph, it echoes through the dark like death's pall.
Khalmarnasa Nol'Akra Dis had survived.
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Role

Chapter 8

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My suspicious grow surrounding the Empress, her obsession with the realm of
Dis grows by the day, and I have now overheard many conversations about her
intention to lead a party to Satan himself. To that end she builds her forces
around her,
not for the glory of the Empire, but for her own desires. To that end she has
cast down Xeneth from his seat on the council, his infraction of the Imperial
Law did merit it, no doubt, but to no great surprise she has put Vhelicia in
his place. The blade that has been like third arm for her whenever she roams.
Auudreyz whispers into the Empress' ear, I know she favors the Black Knight
Agatho, and has been encouraging his promotion, and now I too have been cast
down. A shadow I had manifested within the Sect Hall to deal with a paladin,
remained there and when the paladin had fled close to death, and I had
retrieved the codex and taken the fetish, the Empress found herself assailed
by it. Our mighty Empress, took her chance and now has the opportunity to place
the duergar on the council. So be it, my time is at hand. The duergar has
babbled incessantly about the same obsession as the Empress. The all appear to
have the same rabid desire to delve into the circles of Hell. Agatho as a Dread
Lord, I may well have to tolerate, but he is weak. I doubt he has Gathered a
single soul into his axe, the axe I bestowed on him. He will be weak as
the leader of the Sect, but will serve the Empress well with her journey into
Hell.

Reegun is a fool if she thinks I do not see through her plots, she is not the
strength the Empire needs. Yes she is strong in combat and fierce against
those who would see civilization destroyed, but she is no leader, there is
not plans or or tactics. Daphrdan, though less of a combatant, made up for it
in guile and leadership. To Reegun, everything is a nail and she is the
hammer, but she has played her hands well. There will be no overcoming her
through a council vote, for she has ensured its loyalty to her, placing those
with the avarice for Dis around her.

I must succeed in my work! Davarrah's words ring in my mind, yet the Priest
has not stirred. I cannot expect Reegun to assist me when the time comes, I
will not be beholden to her. I shall use my own guile to succeed while she
knows nothing of it. Then, if I am not destroyed in the process, rise to the
pinnacle of my powers. Oh we shall see!
Let Reegun face the Politics of Nol'Akra Dis!
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Role

Chapter 7

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The name had a familiarity to it 'Davarrah, Davarrah, where?' Khalmarnasa
pondered it for several moments after the your Shadow related his story about
being contacted by a strange dark mage. 'Of Course!' Quickly she moved the
the Hamsah guild, and there, just as she now remembered was the unstable
Elixir bearing the mage's name - Davarrah's Unstable Elixir. With a starting
point she began her search in ever library she could find, and into the
minds of every well traveled adventurer she came across. Slowly the picture
emerged. Davarrah was one of the few great mages of the Dark Arts who had
become something other than the paths many have taken. She was a true
vampire, true darkness filled her, and only blood sated her hunger....so
legend said. There were other whispers, a Coven which she controlled, and
links to the source of the darkest powers, the Shadow Plane. Khalmarnasa's
head spun with the possibilities, 'why would one with such power seek me?'
There must be a reason, but the thought of the dark and ancient knowledge
that suddenly could be available to her soon overwhelmed such questions.

It was several weeks after her early discoveries when the dark voice of the
Vampire Davarrah came to her and within the Hamsah guild Khalmarnasa came
face to face with the darkest of Theran legends, the Mistress of the Coven.
The power of her being was tangible in the air, and though her voice never
rose about the softest whisper, there was such command within it, such a
sense and ancient evil. Khalmarnasa felt once again that giddy sense of
ecstasy she had felt when she was first exposed to the necromantic arts, and
the first of her undead has risen to her command. Long they talked,
discussing the becoming and the reticence of the Eil Shaerian High Priest. It
was then Davarrah revealed that the Priest's mind was pulled beyond this
time, and there might well be a way to bring it, for a time into focus. This
was the knowledge Khalmarnasa sought. Plans were made, and there was a sense
that a true path lay before her. As she left the guild her mind reeled with
the possibilities and she set herself to the task the Mistress has bidden her
undertake.
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Role

Chapter 6

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First amongst the realm, a singular expression of the Grand Design, this is
what I seek. The path is fraught with the risk of the High Priest's fickle
nature, but nonetheless it shall be my goal. There shall be many who will
seek to impede what I strive for, and even more who will work to destroy me
should I succeed. I have petitioned the Lord Destuvius, to seek both his
guidance and his blessings, but as yet there has been no inkling that he has
noticed by desires, never less acceded to them. Time is on my side. The new
Empress is in place, largely in part to my vote which, as I assumed it would,
placed her on the Throne. It was a calculated risk, to serve the Grand Design
in the greatest way I first must become. To seize the Throne now would put me
at greater risk and impede my search, which the current Empress now feels an
obligation to facilitate. Should this come to pass, the Throne will be mine
eventually, for I shall out-live any who come before me. Daphrdan ages,
humans in their brief lives shine brightly and then are gone, but I, I shall
smolder. The cold fire of my soul will smolder long after all others have
turned to ash. I shall rise, reborn into undeath, and to the Throne of the
Empire, and Thera shall know the Grand Design. Chaos shall be brought to
heel, the light quelled, barbarians leashed, the Temple smashed, and Order
will rule supreme.
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Role

Chapter 5

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I have found my place in the Grand Design, once a mere oath, then a servant,
a magician and now and Elite witch. At each point I knew my place and my
tasks, but at all times knew the next step was mine for the taking. The
Dreadlord's seat remains unoccupied and, as Set Law dictates, it is my goal.
The Shadow Lady, Daphrdan, has assisted my work, I know full well what she
seeks, the Emperor will not live forever, though his will is mighty, the hand
of death will touch him eventually. She will seek the throne, and to that end
will see me in the Seat of the Council which will support her effort. So be
it, it will suit my purposes to let her have such glory, for my goals are
longer term, age also hangs heavily on her, and when she is gone.........I
will be poised, transformed and rise to the Throne at the peak of my powers.
Then the world shall know what Order truly is, the Grand Design will unfold
for all, the barbarians, the fortress, the rabble in the tree and those of
the Temple who try to enforce their will. All shall know Darkness and Order.

My visit to the Altar of Destuvius revealed much, works of glory and research
I found there, which has spurred me to continue my treatise on the paths of
Becoming. I will produce this work for my Lord's perusal and ask for it to be
bound and filed within the library. May both it and I be found worthy of his
blessings.
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Role

Chapter 4

Khalmarnasa has a severe distrust of those of the shaman's guild and will
seek to destroy them at every turn. She will of course continue in her
worship of Destuvius and embrace the order of the Empire. She understands the
power of the grand design and constantly seeks to climb the political ladder.
Her life will begin in Udgaard and eventually, once she has sworn the oath
move towards Hamsah. She will plot revenge against the the city of Teth
Azeleth, returning when she is approaching the peak of her powers to try to
grind it into dust. She respects power and will seek to leverage those who
possess it to her own ends. She is cold and aloof, but is not beyond the use
of her charms to manipulate others to her end. She recognizes the inherent
superiority of her gender. Her path into undead is not yet set, but to
devolve into the feral chaos that is the existence of a wight would never be
considered by her.

Role

Chapter 3

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Who can tell the reason's behind politics, beyond the desire for dominion and
power. Resentment had been building for some time against the rising power of
the necromancer's guild within the city of Teth Azeleth, spies for months had
been watching their comings and goings, and it turned out, they had been
infiltrated by a one. Hlandinis had suspected the bumbling student who had
been thrust into their ranks, but failed to realize they were also a skilled
thief. For in the dead of night the infiltrator had shadowed him one night as
he instructed Khalmarnasa in the ways of Destuvius. The power of necromancy
was one thing, heresy was another. None may pray to any God other than the
Spider God within the walls of Teth Azeleth. The backlash was swift and
violent. The battle was fierce as there were few within their halls who would
willingly go to the Spider Goddess' sacrificial altars. The air crackled with
words of power, dead minions and reanimated limbs clawed and rent the flesh
of the soldiers of the High Priestess. Their numbers, however, proved
superior when coupled with the power of her shaman, and eventually only a
small pocket of students, including Khalmarnasa, and Hlandinis remained. He
spat a curse, knowing that there would be no good end, and in an instant he
called on lore known to only a few of their race. With a word and the casting
of several components, a circle of dead flesh arose around them, wrenching
itself from the ground on which they stood. The blows of their adversaries
fell upon it with no effect, and fiercerly he glared at those who remained. A
void in the ground had opened up revealing a tunnel below. 'GO!' he
commanded, 'NOW!' The students stumbled down into the darkness, but as
Khalmarnara moved past him he seized her arm. 'Seek my cousin Chrysilin' he
hissed 'she is a master of our guild in the overworld. She will continue your
instruction.' Their eyes locked, and she knew she would not see him again.
And so began her life in the overworld.
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Role

Chapter 2

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The necromancer's guild of Teth Azeleth was small, yet it held growing power
within the city, second only to the High Priestess and her students.
Although, even she thought long and hard about crossing the Hlandinis, the
necromancer who was now Khalmarnasa's mentor. It was strange indeed that a
male should hold such influence in the dark-elf society, but it was whispered
that there was knowledge he possessed which even the fanatics of the Spider
Queen feared. His lessons to Khalmarnasa revealed the reasons for the black
fire of her elemental spells, were in fact due to her affinity with the
negative place, a talent few even in the necromancer's craft possessed. He
spoke to her of order and reason, the strict rigor of the necromancer's
craft, the need for perfection in all things to minimize the inherent failure
of reanimation. He was, in his own way, a harder taskmaster that any who had
schooled Khalmarnasa in her young life, exacting excellence from her at every
turn, and for this she grew to admire and respect him like she had no other
male. For his part, he had in all his years, never come across a young mage
with such a talent for the arts of the negative plane, and for this reason he
revealed to her things he had shown to no other student.

The candle between them flickered. Khalmarnasa's eyes began to droop,
exhausted by the day's lessons, she almost thought the words she heard were
imagined when they floated to her. 'Have you heard the name Destuvius, young
one?' Her mind snapped out of the laconic reverie which had been dragging her
towards sleep. 'Who? No, the name is not familiar.' she replied. 'He is one
of the younger Gods' her mentor replied. 'A God who upholds that which we
revere. One who understands the grand design.' And so began her tutelage in
the Destuvian Order.
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Role

Chapter 1

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'Again!' Both the voice and the whip carried a stinging crack. The searing
burn of a lash erupted across Khalmarnasa's back. For the fifth successive
time she had failed to perform the instructor's task, well not failed, but
more not performed it to his desires. She had indeed produced a jet of flame,
but rather than hot red fire, her's had appeared cold and black. Rather than
burn the flesh of the slave, whom the students were using for their studies,
it left a white ring of hoarfrost. She could not fathom where her error lay,
and the cold self-satisfied smirks of her classmates began to infuriate her
no end. She longed to plunge her hand into the chest of the tall female close
to her, Shuladira was the Archmage's favorite, favored due to her skill with
elemental spells, and also because she was the niece of the High Priestess,
so Khalmarnasa stayed her hand. Order dictated that students were only
allowed to turn their spells on each other when given leave to do so by the
Archmage.

She gathered her thoughts, everything was as she had been shown, although it
seemed that the energy which she called forth was not the element she
desired. Again she thrusts her hand forward, and for the sixth time black
flame erupts forth, accompanied by several derisive snorts. Khalmarnasa
braces for the inevitable lash, but instead the air is cut by a cold voice,
'Hold!' The tone of command resonates in the air and the instructor's arm
freezes in its backswing, the whip twitching. The congregation of students
swing their gaze to a shadowed corner, from which a elegant drow steps
forward, swathed in black robes, with silver runes of necromancy embroidered
along the edge and hem. The runes marking him as the Master of his guild.
'This is not a failing of talent my dear chap, but rather a failure on your
part to notice talent when you see it.' The instructor's jaw sets, chastised
by one he know is his superior in both talent and rank. A sardonic curl plays
on the Necromancer's mouth as he enjoys the discomfort of one he could end
with just a word. Taking a moment more to hold the instructor with the gaze
of his cold violet eyes, just long enough for the gaze to break any
possibility of contention for what he will say next. His eyes swing to
Khalmarnasa's form, 'come child, you are wasted here.' The tone of command so
distinctive that Khalmarnasa falls into step beside him without a moment's
thought as he walks out of the hall. And so her tutelage in the necromantic
arts began.
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