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[hr][h3][i]Beneath The Black Spire
Deep Deserts
2 weeks ago...[/i][/h3]​[hr]
For months, the slaves in the catacombs beneath the spire had been whispering of a voice that called to them in their dreams. The voice of a woman that beckoned them to dig into the stone and to dig deep, that she was waiting for them to free her and would reward them graciously. At first, it seemed like nothing more than an urban legend. Lord Ferenczy had responded by throwing the mortals into the Reaver pens where they were killed and they themselves became Reavers. However, the whispers persisted still. Shai'this wasn't an idiot. The whispers were happening for a reason and he couldn't ignore them forever, let alone keep throwing slaves to the Reavers. So, Ferenczy responded by telling the overseers to allow the slaves to dig and to report to him if they found anything of significance.

At first, he heard nothing. Months passed and Shai'this had nearly given up when one of the overseers came running into his chambers. The slaves had discovered an anti-chamber deep beneath the spire. What's more, there was a sarcophagus that appeared to be sealed tight. Ferenczy walked with purpose with the underling through the catacombs towards the dig site, his blood red eyes glowing in the dark. When he spoke, he had a voice that sounded like rolling thunder. Like the voice of a god (or a devil). It demanded you listen and held power in it's baritone.

[i][b]"Have the slaves disturbed the sarcophagus?"[/b][/i] the Lord asked as he moved ahead, the underling doing his best to keep in toe with his master.

"No, my lord. The slaves are eager to open it however. As we grew closer and closer to breaking ground into the antechamber, their dreams became more frequent to the point they were having waking dreams" the underling said. Interesting. Whatever was in the sarcophagus had a great deal of power, there was no doubt of that.

[i][b]"Do we know how old the sarcophagus is?"[/b][/i] he asked. The underling shook his head before speaking.

"Not exactly, my lord. Our mages theorize however that both the sarcophagus and the antechamber are nearly as old as the Spire itself" he said. Shai'this' mouth twitched into a slight smirk. Perhaps whatever was in the sarcophagus could give him the secrets of the spire and explain why it was built in the first place. A wamphyri warrior passed by them, dragging a dead slave behind him. The corpse looked broken, bones jutting out of the skin and the head lulling back at an unnatural angle. The elder lord looked to his underling for an explanation. "The antechamber is several stories beneath our feet. When we broke through, the slave fell to the ground below" he explained. The wamphyri chuckled. Such weak and fragile creatures. So easily broken. As Lord Ferenczy approached the hole, he stepped onto the open air. He fell 4 stories down and landed without even a sound, his underling following as well and landing just as silently. Flickering light lit the chamber as 6 slaves formed a perimeter around the sarcophagus. It was black like obsidian but didn't seem to be made of stone but instead metal. Curious indeed. What was more curious was that the metal appeared to be radiating magical energy that made the wamphyri's hair stand on end.

The slaves twitched and shifted with their torches and tools in hand, eager to open the sarcophagus and combating the primal parts of their minds telling them to run from the immortal predators in the room. Shai'this glanced at the slaves who looked to him for confirmation. The lord raised his clawed hand and signaled for the slaves to go ahead. The slaves lunged all at once in a frenzy, quickly trying to move the lid of the metal coffin. The slaves strained and seemed prepared to destroy their own muscles in the process but it appeared too heavy for six healthy slaves to move. It had to weigh more than 700 pounds. The slaves looked to their master, fearing punishment. Lord Ferenczy scowled slightly, causing the slaves to flinch before he sighed in annoyance.

[i][b]"Pathetic creatures"[/b][/i] he growled quietly as he calmly approached the sarcophagus. He slipped his clawed fingers beneath the lid and lifted, straining only slightly as he flipped the lid onto the floor with a loud thud that cracked the stone it hit. Shai'this looked inside and frowned. Inside was merely the remains of some mummified corpse that held a small green crystal, it's parchment like skin tight and showing the skeleton beneath. It had been a woman at one point from what the immortal could tell, but there was no detectable life in the corpse. The lord growled in frustration, squeezing his knuckles enough that audible pops could be heard.

[i][b]"How incredibly disappointing. Take these useless excuses of flesh to my lab. Perhaps I can make something useful out of their parts"[/b][/i] he growled in annoyance, turning his back and walking towards where he'd fallen. The slaves began panicking and pleading for mercy immediately. 2 readied their tools to defend themselves as though it could protect them. One went running towards the sarcophagus, screaming in his savage tongue. As Shai'this prepared to leap, an unnatural shriek rang out. The immortal lord turned to see that the corpse had sprung to life and had pinned the screaming slave. A green mist left the slaves mouth as his skin began to dry out and mummify. Miraculously, the mummies own skin began to become healthier again as she stood and set her sights on the other slaves, attacking them with a similar savage hunger. The elder watched in fascination as this once dead creature drained the life out of these slaves. Incredible. With the slaves dead and her body [url=https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/017/756/388/large/jason-horley-mummy-stage05a-v001-010-jh.jpg?1557234669]restored[/url], she looked to Lord Ferenczy who motioned for his soldiers to back down. He was curious to see what she did...​

[hr][h3][i]Frey, the Shining City
Present Day...[/i][/h3]​[hr]
Frey, the Shining City. A massive, cacophonous creature teeming with life and chaotic energy. A place where you were just as likely to be robbed for the contents of your letters as you would your purse. Tharos loved the chaos, the freedom, even if his nose was currently bloody and a bit crooked. That's what he got for having a bit too many and thinking he could fight every drunk at 'The Loyal Servant'. He couldn't say it wasn't an unproductive night. He'd insisted to his dear sister and their Zitan companion to simply trust that he'd be home by morning and that he could perhaps have some sort of job lined up for them. 

He had been largely successful all things considered. If getting his nose broken and a few bruises was the price he paid for the opportunity to get out of the city and potentially study some newly discovered Masari artifacts, it was worth it. Tharos groaned in annoyance, trying to breath but only getting blockage and annoyance. He sighed. He knew how to fix it, just wasn't looking forward to how it would feel. Tharos slipped into the shadows of two nearby buildings and sighed, one part preparing for the pain, the other focusing will. 

He envisioned what he wanted to do, focused that will into the image, and with a flash of purple light a telekinetic blast reset his nose with a wet pop. Tharos leaned forward, hands on his thighs as he groaned in pain. Gods that hurt. With a quick blowing of the nose and the removal of a bothersome clot, Tharos made his way for the home he and his sister were renting out. He still had a ways to go and no doubt his sister was going to try and break his nose again for being so late but her attitude would likely change when she heard about the job he'd managed to land them[/center]