Thoughts of a Devil (Coven)

[Zachariah Darmok]

The Temple Canon, Lower Levels of Coruscant, The Eve Of Creatures.

The Temple was a complex made from several different sections known as "Canons". Each Canon was a constructed building made from mostly the under works from the lower levels of the city. Built for a certain job, the Temple Canon was a large sqaure room built with a huge dome as a roof structure. On each side of the Temple Canon were two smaller structures constructed for priests, worshippers and magic apprentices to train in the dark arts of magic. The Subryn Coven were a cult, a satanic sort of cult at that. some Priests ad worshippers were those of which were thought to be of the higher class. Bankers, City Watch, or even highly respected business folk. Of course there dark secret was safe with the Coven.

2 more Canons were built one was a quarters area for the priests, and pilgrims of the Dark Arts to stay and sleep or study. The other Canon was for the 3 Arch-Mages, there studies and large quarters. It was in one of these large quarters areas that the Arch-Mage Darmok sat at a desk reading a very large old dusty book by candle light. It was called "Mefendle" It seemed to have been written by a past Arch-Mage of the Coven of great respect. The mage was like that for a few moments before slowly closing the book and standing to look at his book shelf. He placed the book upon the shelf and made his way for the temple canon.

He was to meet the new Leader of the Coven, Warlock who had one the latest vote of Magister. He would lead the Coven for another year before another vote would be announced, involving the whole Coven, numbering over 100 pilgrims and priests now. Darmok traveled the candle lit corridors before he hit the large double doors of the temple which opened at his command, a simple swift slide movement of his hand.

Enteringing the huge domed hall, Darmok found Warlock in front of the alter, no doubt practicing some kind of Alchemy

[Omri Ba' al]

Lurking, ever-watching, ever-learning, ever-seeking, secrets both dark and forbidden. He was damned, damned from the minute he entered the Temple, damned from the moment he sold his soul to join the Coven, to gain power both material and spiritual. But he was without a patron, someone to sponsor him to higher positions, to teach him secret lessons. It was why he had left the Practice Canon and entered the Temple Canon.

The fates smiled upon his forsaken soul, two of the three Arch-Mages of the Coven were standing before the great alter. He approached them, slowly and cautiously. He could be killed for speaking to an Arch-Mage without their summons, but luck favors the bold.

"Revered masters, I seek a word with you," He spoke in a low, but distinct tone. His head was bowed, as he knelt on the stone floor before them.

[Zachariah Darmok]

Before Zachariah could reach the alter to where Warlock was a poorly robed apprentice stepped from the priests Canon and intercepted Darmok in mid stride. The man looked no older than his mid twenties and seemed to he a priests apprentice due to the symbol on his robes. To approach one of the Arcane leaders was stritly forbiddon, punishible by death, but this man had some courage and so Darmok waved away the thought of killing him on the spot.

' You have my attention, speak your mind young one i have my own concerns.' Darmok said pulling back his hood to reveal a greasy haired face.

[Omri Ba' al]

"I seek a patron, m'lord." The young man replied with new-found confidence at the fact that he was still breathing.

"I wish to become a Mage, a Summoner to be precise," he continued. He pulled back his robe displaying his unkept blond hair and stormy green eyes. There were two braids in his hair one on each side of his face, his face was clean shaven though, it had to be for his professional life.

[Tyrn Sairvel]

Drip… drip… drip.

He couldn’t sleep. That galling sound, how was he to rest? It had been like this for nights, the rain depriving him of his repose. Finally, he bestirred from his quarters and stepped out into the dingy hallways of his particular Canon. His eyes were listless, and his skin as pale of a ghost. Stuffing his hands comfortably in the depths of his stained duster, he trailed the corridor in search of the study hall.

It had been only a month or so since his admittance into the Coven, and he hadn’t quite acquainted himself with the layout of the Temple. Sure, he wondered the halls day in and day out, but his mind was slipping; all surrounding him knew his grasp of sanity wasn’t as potent as he would have wished for.

Arriving at the study, the ashen-haired man stepped inside of the library which harbored its own ample sized collection of the more rare and infernal readings. Most of which shunned by the modern society, but treasured in the lower cavities of the city. If he couldn’t sleep he would weigh his mind with readings. At least the sound was gone.

[Zachariah Darmok]

' You wish to have a patron?...a teacher of our arts?...surely you jest?' Darmok spoke in a sarcastic tone. ' You are but of the religion are you not?...you serve the temple...why would you wish to join the higher cast and be one of the users of the art? Zachariah questioned looking over the human on the floor. The boy looked promising although young and rather unimportant. He was not even a priest, he was a priests apprentice, he had not even proved himself in the worship of the dark arts.

' You must prove your devolution to the Coven and the temple before we are willing to let you climb to the higher ranks of the Order....Magister Warlock is one of proving of ones self. Darmok said looking over to Warlock who was busy in his own affairs.

' However your bravery in crossing my stride i think personally is devotion enough....if i am correct i believe Arch-Mage Surpanakha is in need of a pet and something to toy with....i think if you show her your devotion sewll sponsor you for the higher cast...' Darmok said seeing a little of himself in the boy. ' you may enter the Arch-Mage Canon with my permission. You will find her there.'

[Omri Ba' al]

Omri nodded and rose, making his way towards the Canon of the Arch-Mages. As he approached the great doors that led to the Canon, he looked up and noticed a great white eye that seemed to glow independently of everything else. It was the symbol of the Coven and the mark that he wished to take as well.

The great gates groaned and opened as he grew closer, Arch-Mage Darmok had obviously marked him as one allowed to enter. The halls were dimly lit by candles, who's sticks never seemed to shorten. On the walls images of past Arch-Mages, the Great Magister Borolis, the infamous Arch-Mage Qay'tar, and an image of the dread demon Mnenoch bond in blood rune chains kept in a circle of binding.

As he closed in on the end of the hall he noticed that it broke in two directions, both halls were rounded with a horizon not too far off. Omri infered from this that the Canon was circular in nature. He chose the path to his left and continued on, now there were heavy wooden doors ever 50 or so feet, above them written in crimson were ancient words in some long dead tongue. Now the halls were lit from the floor up, creating an effect of shadows that became more eerie as he continued down the path.

Demons and Aeons danced in the darkness as they were painted in shadow across the walls. Whisper's of echos, carrying the screams of long ago slipped through the cool breeze that seemed to be perpetually moving about the Canon. In it was a hint of incense, musk and mildew creating a delicate aroma of time.

He continued to walk the halls seemingly led on by an unseen hand pushing him towards a final destination...

[Warlock]

The Warlock stood seemingly in silence as Darmok spoke with one of the younger students. The way in which Zachariah had shaped the Covenant was not so much to the Warlock’s liking – he did not approve of the manner in which the Arch-Mages were expected to tutor younglings whilst at the same time belittling them. As one of the oldest members of the Subryn, he favoured the oldest methods of instruction and such wanton abuse of power was not included in these – equality bonded together a brotherhood.

The Warlock remained silent, contemplative, watching.

[Zachariah Darmok]

' Good evening Magister Warlock ' Darmok introduced in a quiet tone of respect. ' Congratulations on becoming the new Magister it must have come as a bit of a shock to you my leige...' Dark said with a grim smile.

Darmok was of course angry that we had been made to step down, Warlock had won the vote and as tradition Darmok was to step down. Of course there was a battle between all three arch mages on who was Magister. Thought it seemed the witch had little interest in politics or leadership. Darmok nodded to Warlok in respect yet again and raise his head.

' You called for me Magister?

[Warlock]

“I am interested,” he began, “In a number of things.”

As per usual, the Warlock donned a deep cerulean robe. It bore no trappings of the order, save the gold trimmings at the cuffs, lapels and hood edge. Its purpose was simply to keep the man warm and cover whatever he should have beneath – namely pouches of miscellanea and the like. Against the alter he stood by the Epoch Staff lay at a slant, and as the Warlock turned to address Darmok it began to glow upon being taken into his grip.

“Our new members and the plans for the future of the Coven. Tell me what you have come to conclude on these things.”

[Surpanakha]

A hand wasn't the only thing urging on the aspiring disciple: within seconds of crossing the invisible threshold separating Surpanakha's chambers from the remaining subdivisions of the Temple Canon, a sudden rush of air blasted Omri squarely in the chest. He was violently thrown back against the wall, but had he been able to concentrate on its source, he would perhaps have noticed two pale yellow irises appear right in the center of the spiraling body of air, slowly taking shape and form.

Warlock had won the recent elections and, needless to say, Darmok was disappointed. For her part, Suri could not care less how the Coven's hierarchy functioned. The demon herself was not the Arch-mage Omri had been ordered to seek: the title rightfully belonged to the spirit which occupied her body. Surpanakha was a Servant, her allegiance sworn to her Queen; Livyatan, a Sorcerer from ages past, a Summoner and Priest of the dark arts. They had little time to spare on the intricacies of the cult's organization, and no patience for unannounced visitors.

The many heads of the hydra towered ominously above the devotee, each pair of eyes focused and glaring.

http://www.boomspeed.com/sylntknyte/hydrarise.jpg

[Omri Ba' al]

Omri knelt immediately, but did not speak. The beast was a guardian of the Arch-Mage. She would either order it to devour him or let him be depending on her judgment.

Slowly he pulled back the hood of his cloak and placed both hands on his knees. His eyes gleamed in the fire light. These were the arts that he desired to study, summoning and conjuring. This would be his teacher.