Flashback The Cup of Unlife: Stage 1

[Ialari Pythone]

Late-Spring/Early Summer, 510 AV (Grandfathered/Flashback/Approved by Tarot)

Ialari had recently returned to Sahova from Nyka. The experiences in that city had changed her beyond measure and provided her with the ultimate knowledge; Dominion. Though she yearned to return to the Ukalas and to her Dominion, she was not ready. In fact, the thought of returning to that place was sometimes more than she could bare. In those moments she would pull out one of the ancient scrolls given to her by Izurdin, himself. She would pour over the words; words meant only for her eyes. It was enough to take the edge off but unfortunately the relief was fleeting at best. The problem was that if she returned, what would she do? How would she proceed? Having not spent enough time in her Domain, she could not shape it to suit her needs. Food, water, structure, everything had to be brought with her but then what? What would she do then? That was a question best answered later. For now, the basics. She needed Sahova in order to learn and experiment. She had begun the path of the mage and Sahova was the best place for her for now. She already had some small amount of respect if not the trust of individuals such as Mashaen and Qiao for saving Sahova from the renegade uprising and betrayal of Drainira and with that came knowledge of Sahova's layout and access not offered to most pulsers. The benefits of which would further her research and training as to better prepare her for a return to the Ukalas.

First however there was the issue of survival. Sahova was not a friendly place to the living. The few examples of the living in Sahova were to Ialari not far from becoming nuit; half-starved and in failing health at best. Even in her short time in the Citadel before leaving for Nyka she noticed a significant change in her own health. Since that time she had endured too much to continue living on scraps. She needed something reliable, nourishing and perhaps a little more.

On an otherwise insignificant day as Spring slowly gave up to Summer, Ialari found herself in her laboratory. She had returned to her work on behalf of Lector Qiao of interrogation and experimentation on the renegade nuit who had participated in the uprising. Qiao had kept a large number of them "alive" during Ialari's absence. When Ialari returned, it was expected of her to uphold her end of the bargain and continue trying to pull information from the prisoners in hopes of discovering the intricacies of Drainira's plan and figuring out just how far it went and how much was affected. If Qiao was to maintain his stranglehold on Sahova, he would need to ensure that there was nothing left of Drainira that could threaten him.

[Ialari Pythone]

So on this particular day, Ialari stood before her latest "victim". It was one of the numerous nuit who had been shaped by Drainira into little more than a drone. It was one of the nuit responsible for setting up one of the magical explosions that would have helped wipe out the Citadel itself. The wretched creature was little more than a skeleton barely encased in a bag rotting flesh. Soul vector seeped from numerous splits in his skin and he could only manage a few moans and dry, hoarse whispers of "freedom".

Ialari found such specimens to boring at best although she did use the opportunity to learn more about the nuit. She did this through a number of small experiments. She knew already from Shalla, her ghostly companion and former nuit, that the nuit did not require food or water. No wonder they look so unhealthy and are so weak she remembered thinking. If there is no need for sustenance, then it's obvious why they are so physically weak. They can't build muscle or even maintain whatever muscle remain after death. Something occurred to her as she stood in front of the near mindless unliving body chained before her. Retrieving a strip of cloth from a nearby table, Ialari soaked it in a bowl of water and proceeded to wrap it around the nuit's mouth and nose. The nuit, baring the name of Huros, struggled a bit as she secured the cloth yet soon returned to its routine droning. Ialari noted how the Huros seemed not to be affected by the inability to breathe.

So now Ialari understood that nuit did not need to eat or drink or even breathe. From her time with Shalla she also knew they didn't need to sleep. As an accomplished crafter of poisons, she considered another possibility that she had yet to explore. Turning to the table holding her poisoncrafting equipment, she retrieved a small thimble of a semi-thick, black fluid. Turning back to Huros, she poured the contents of the thimble on the naked nuit's shoulder and watched for a sign. Contact with the simple poison should have caused immediate irritation followed by blisters and slight spasms in the affect area. She waited for longer than needed yet there was no reaction. "So you aren't harmed by poisons either. I would presume that most diseases have no affect on you either." Ialari commented as she studied the nuit. Huros did not respond. She couldn't help but despise the nuit for all that they were. Yet, despite her revulsion for them, if not for the nuit, Ialari wouldn't have experienced such personal growth. She had found a higher purpose in her life thanks to the nuit and for that, even to the most lowly of them, she allowed herself to feel some small amount of gratitude.

She knew now that the nuit did not require food, water, sleep or even need to breathe. They were unaffected by poisons and likely unharmed by diseases, at least those not designed for the unliving. It was then that another thought dawned on her. Was it possible that such qualities could be recreated, even if but temporarily, through magic? Certainly the nuit, before they were nuit, had thought of such things yet they likely abandoned such attempts once they discovered how to become nuit. Ialari wanted to live. She would rather destroy herself completely then resort to becoming a soul trapped in a rotting shell forever destined to jump from shell to shell. However, what if she could harness, even in the smallest way, some of those unliving qualities? What if she could create something that would provide her sustenance while at the same time reducing the need for food, water or sleep if but for a short while.

Suddenly reaching up and caressing the balding, in places bare skulled head of Huros, Ialari smiled and said cheerfully, "Huros, you weak-minded, rotting bastard, you just gave me an idea. If you weren't so, well, human and undead, I would kiss you. Well, no, probably not even then but know that you have my thanks and I'll be sure to end your unlife a little quicker than the others...later." Turning from Huros, who still hung limply while moaning the word "freedom" over and over, Ialari went out in search of a handful of items that were somewhat easy to procure in order to begin her new project.

[Ialari Pythone]

The materials Ialari would need were not unusual nor were they hard to find. Sahova was if anything, well stocked with raw materials for use in all manner of procedures and experiments. She found a few scraps of metal leftover in one of the communal workshops that, by themselves, were little more than junk yet for what Ialari had planned, they would work just fine. During her short hunt for supplies, Ialari couldn’t help but think of her current situation. Sahova was not her first choice of habitations yet it offered an endless wealth of knowledge, materials and facilities that would best accommodate her. Her primary goals in life had changed drastically since her first arrival at the Citadel so much that her time there would be limited. Even so, in order to get the most of her time in Sahova, she had to find a way to maintain herself. The meager scraps of questionable food that she could gather were not enough to preserve her health much less give her the energy needed for her research. There was also the matter of Dominion. Her skill and connection with her Dominion had yet to reach a point where she could will it to sustain her. The only food and water available while in the Ukalas was made up of only what she could take with her. Her studies of the nuit provided her with an answer if only she could give it form.

Returning to her lab with little trouble; the native Sahovans paid little attention to pulsers, she found Huros still restrained by his bindings. The nuit barely noticed her return and made no indication that he cared one way or another. Laying out the armful of materials she had gathered, Ialari took stock of what there was. There was a small, solid copper cylinder; a discarded end of a larger piece just slightly larger than Ialari’s fist. In addition, Ialari found a torn sheet of silver screen material sometimes used on the faces of some of the citadel golems along with a broken end of a sewing needle and pair of well-worn, barely functioning smithing tongs. It wasn’t much yet it was enough.

Ialari took the copper cylinder in hand. Turning it around, she looked it over and inspected it for any major imperfections. It wasn’t perfect as there were a few dents and numerous scratches yet to Ialari’s isurian eye, it looked to be adequate. She stepped over to the small hearth in one corner of the room. Taking a moment to light a fire under the kettle, she set the cylinder in the burning coals and waited for it heat up. Though copper and already somewhat malleable, she would need it more so in order to do with it what she wanted.

[Ialari Pythone]

While the fire took, the kettle of coals heated and with it the copper cylinder, Ialari returned to her workbench and examined the silver screen material. It was a fine mesh more decorative than anything else. It looked to be a small piece torn from a larger one and was just enough for what she wanted. Holding the sheet in her off hand, Ialari used her metallic hand to pinch the ends of the mesh. The crushing power of her fingers severed the mesh and removed the uneven edges. Though not perfect, Ialari managed to even out a strip roughly eight inches long and five inches tall. The copper cylinder not quite hot enough yet, Ialari returned to Huros. From the looks of the nuit’s rapidly decaying body, he did not have much longer until the cold embrace of Dira came for him. “Huros, you’ve provided me with so much without having to do really anything at all. If you hadn’t tried to kill me along with everything else here, not to mention having lost your mind to Drainira and Sagallius, I may have offered you a chance to redeem yourself. When Dira comes for you, take my advice, don’t fight it.”

Ialari turned from Huros and stepped back over to the hearth. The copper cylinder had conducted the heat of the fire quite well and though not glowing when she picked it up in her metallic hand, she could feel that it was ready. Back to the workbench, she used the smithing tongs to take hold of the cylinder. With her metallic hand she set to molding the cylinder into the desired form. Cupping her fingers underneath one end, Ialari pressed her thumb down in the center of the other creating an indentation. She followed by pressing a bit more while scooping a bit of copper out of the center. She continued this, turning the cylinder around with the tongs to provide a better position and grip as she manipulated the copper as if it were clay. It had been too long since Ialari engaged in the divine art of isurian crafting. Now that she was fully engaged in it, she felt as though time itself had stopped and that the only thing that existed was her and her work. As she worked to hollow out the cylinder, Ialari periodically placed it in the fire to maintain its pliability. At one point, Ialari dug a little too deep into the side of the cylinder. Cursing aloud, she worked to restore the integrity of the edge by pushing excess copper into the mistake and restoring thickness. Ialari smoothed out the hollow of the cylinder with a combination of pinching and sliding her fingers uniformly around the inside diameter.

Impossible for anyone other than an isur, Ialari’s mystical arm effectively formed the simple shape of a cup.

[Ialari Pythone]

When the inside of the cup was hollowed out, smoothed and ultimately complete, Ialari returned it to the fire. She looked into the flames and imagined the final shape of the cup itself. It would be simple in form; her vision for it matched her skill level. She did not need a cup forged for a king, she only needed one for herself. When the cup was again heated, she grasped it again with the tongs and began smoothing out the cup’s lip. It had been roughed a bit by her hollowing efforts so she set to running the bottom tip of her forefinger around it while giving a slight amount of pressure. Then, with her thumb and forefinger, she rounded the lip downward to eliminate any square or sharp edges. When the lip was finished, Ialari held the cup in front of her face and turned it so that she could view every part of it. Again she concluded that while far from perfect, the inside of the cup as well as the lip were functional.

The whole process had taken up the majority of a few hours and Ialari was feeling a bit fatigued. She retrieved a tea-leaf from a small pouch on her nightstand and placed it in a small wooden mug of water heated from a kettle hung in the hearth after taking a break from crafting the cup. The water eventually absorbed the flavor and nutrients from the tea leaf. Ialari sat on her bed and sipped the tea. It was one of the few delicacies available to her in Sahova. Herbs were plenty and the particular leaf was a decent substitute for the bland, oftentimes foul food she sometimes ate. It wasn’t enough though.

After her short break, Ialari returned to her work. The cup had cooled and looked to Ialari to be ready for the next step. She restored the fire with a bit of wood and stoked it to a steady flame. She put the cup back in the fire and turned back to her workbench. There she retrieved the silver mesh screen material. While the cup was heating, Ialari took the silver screen in her metallic hand and then held it in the fire until it began to glow with the soft illumination of heat. With the tongs, she pulled the cup from the fire. Sitting down in front of the fire, she placed the cup on the stone in front of her. She then took the silver mesh and set to lightly pressing one end of it into the outside surface of the cup. From there she wrapped the mesh around the rest of the cup while lightly pressing it into the heated copper surface. Placing the tongs, closed, inside the cup, Ialari held it upside down so that the bottom of the cup faced upward. She then used her metallic hand to lightly press both heated metals together. She smoothed and blended the edges of the silver screen into the copper of the cup.

When she was finished, the silver screen was effectively embedded into the copper cup thus giving it a bit of patterning on its outside surface. While the metals were still heated, Ialari then pressed her thumb lightly into the joint where the two ends of the mesh met. Taking the broken sewing needle, she pressed it into the center of the thumbprint until it stuck out just short of a quarter of an inch. The needle was effectively embedded into the surface of the cup where the thumbprint was located. Ialari cooled the cup in a small bucket of water and set it on her workbench. When the cup was finally cooled and dried, Ialari began to polish and scrub it in order to bring out a shine. When she was finished, the cup did give off a bit of a dull shine though it was far from brilliant.

[Ialari Pythone]

In the end, the cup was nothing extraordinary. The craftsmanship, while adequate, was nothing of note. It was a blend of silver and copper roughly melded with a feminine thumbprint in the side and an odd needle point sticking from the center of the print. The design however was completely intentional as it would serve a specific function. Ialari had learned the power of sacrifice was strong and the purpose of the needle in the thumbprint would provide a vehicle for sacrifice in the final finished form of the cup. With the cup now ready for the next phase of its creation, Ialari needed sleep before continuing for the next part would be the most difficult. Before preparing for bed, Ialari noted how Huros was in the last stages of losing the cohesion between his soul and his borrowed body. Numerous gashes had opened up in his rotting flesh and soul vector had begun to seep out. Not wanting to waste the precious substance, Ialari placed a number of bowls on the ground around Huros to collect the vector. If he was “alive” when she woke, she would dispatch him.

As she prepared for bed, Ialari gave prayers to Izurdin, Dira and Vayt, in that order. To Izurdin she thanked him for the strength and patience required to succeed in her ventures. To Dira, she thanked Death for the knowledge provided by the dying nuit. To Vayt, she thanked sickness for allowing strength to stand above all others. Then, amidst the stench of rotting flesh; a smell she had grown accustom to and the whispered moans of “Freedom” from Huros, she allowed sleep to take her.

When Ialari awoke some time later, she found Huros to still remain animate although barely. Gathering herself, she walked over to the near extinct nuit. She took a short moment to look at his face with a slight crook of her neck, her head tilted to the side. “This moment has been long coming, Huros. I know you probably don’t know what I’m saying or even what’s happening now. No matter, Dira is near.” Ialari could feel a familiar presence drift into the room like a slow moving fog rising around a small lake early in the morning. Whether or not it was the presence of Dira herself or that of one of her jackal omens, Ialari was not quite sure. Regardless, she knew Death was near.

A feeling of expectation weighed itself into the room and Ialari retrieved a dagger from her robes. It was the isurian ceremonial dagger she had retrieved from a raided isurian trading post which she had encountered long ago during her travels from Sultros. “Huros, your time in this incarnation had ended. For what it’s worth, I hope your next life brings you more fortune than this one.” With that, Ialari thrust the dagger upward, driving it under Huros’ chin and into his brain. As she pulled the dagger free, soul vector poured out into a large bowl at Huros’ feet. The rapid loss of so much soul vector brought a quick end to the nuit. Ialari could feel his soul escaping the decayed form only to be snatched up by whatever being of death was present. The cold presence in the room quickly faded and Ialari was left alone staring at the now inanimate husk that was once Huros. She would soon harvest what she could from the nuit’s body in addition to the soul vector she had already collected.

[Ialari Pythone]

With Huros gone, Ialari set to cleaning up the remains. The various basins used to collect the leaking soul vector were emptied into a series of jars and vials which were then sealed and added to Ialari's growing collection. As for the body itself, much of it was little more than a rotting husk. "Now I wonder, is there anything more of use with this thing?" Ialari thought to herself as she waved her dagger about lazily while inspecting the corpse. What passed for flesh was useless and there would be no organs to speak of that could provide any materials for future experimentation. The bones however could prove valuable; the problem though was removing any of them while keeping them intact. Ialari was no surgeon with what little anatomical knowledge she possessed having been gained from torture sessions. Not wanting to spend too much time involved in the process, Ialari decided on simply removing the head.

Releasing the body from its bindings, it fell in a limp, crumbled heap. She knelt down a bit and stretched the body so that it was laying flat. She then turned a scimitar that hung on the nearby wall; a souvenir from a rather unsettling encounter of the past. Turning the head to the side to offer a clean shot, Ialari raised the sword in her metallic hand and brought it down in a slicing motion. The skin and tissue helping to keep the head connected to the rest of the body was already quite weak and rotted so that, combined with the strength of her arm and the edge of the blade, the bones of the neck were severed quite easily. Residual vector and filth slowly spilled forth as the head rolled slightly off to the side. Ialari cursed softly at the mess that formed yet still smiled over the small prize she had gained. She wiped off the scimitar and replaced it on the wall before picking up the head and placing it on her workbench. The rest of the body she gathered and placed outside her lab. As was part of the process, a golem tasked to help maintain some level of cleanliness in the Citadel would gather the body and dispose of it.

Back in her lab, Ialari began the task of cleaning up the mess that was created followed by washing herself a bit with a rag, bucket of water and a bit of soap. After taking a little bit of break, she prepared a small bucket of boiling water in the hearth. She then placed the head in the bucket as to begin the process of maceration. By maintaining a low fire with the bucket suspended above it; checking it often, she could remove the flesh from the skull within a few hours. In the meantime, she pondered the next steps involved in continuing the crafting of the cup.

[Ialari Pythone]

She had the design and form of the cup completed but how would she go about setting purpose to it. This was the beginning stage of imparting through the use of her divine gift, Izentor. Purpose, or rather intent, was the core of the process. Her initial idea was to craft an item capable of relieving the pangs of hunger and thirst while reducing the need for both. "In order to gain such qualities, I need to sacrifice something of myself. Nothing is given for free, there is always a contract involved, a deal struck. Now let me see here." Ialari sat in a chair she had pulled up next to the fire which slowly cooked the flesh from Huros' skull. She held the cup in her hand and pondered the questions she posed to herself. "You made the cup with an intential device built in. You have the needle and the thumbprint. Sacrificing a bit of blood and discomfort into the cup through the needle by means of your thumb, you could impart upon the cup the ability to accept a sacrifice. The sacrifice could then in turn allow the cup to activate other qualities magecrafted into it." Although she already had the intentions of such a thing, working it out in her mind and truly believing it, making it an integral part of her thoughts, was the key.

"I need to figure out exactly how I want to go about crafting other properties into it so as to impart upon the cup those intentions." She turned the cup in her hands and looked inside it. She then looked to the small pouch at her side where she kept the tea leaves she had been using to supplement her diet. Her eyes then slowly drifted to the jars of soul vector resting upon a nearby shelf then down to her off hand. "My blood for sacrifice also serving as reagent. The tea leaf for sustenance. The vector for the qualities of unlife. Last, a cup of water, an element of life..." It all began to come together, solidifying in her mind. She would impart upon the cup her value of self-sacrifice. The cup would accept the sacrifice of her blood and discomfort. The tea leaf and vector would mix to provide adequate sustenance while reducing the need for it. The water would be the final element to carry those properties into her as she drank from it.

She repeated her intent, the process and the final goal over and over to herself for the next hour or so while checking on the hot watered head. After a while longer, she took the bucket off the fire and checked the head. As she pulled it out, she noted that much of the flesh and hair had sloughed off the skull. Any damage to the skull from the heat appeared relatively minor and insignificant. With her dagger, she set to removing any last remains of tissue from the skull before holding it up with a smile on her face. Her killing blow that released Huros' soul into the beyond has passed just behind the lower jaw and up into the skull itself leaving a small break that matched the size of her dagger blade. The final result was a bare, intact skull ready for whatever uses she planned in the future. Now finished with it for the time being, Ialari placed the skull on a small shelf near her rather small, simple bed. It was now time to begin the imparting upon the cup.

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari had only imparted upon an item a very select few times in the past. Her primary experience with the use of her mark was during her final battle with Amir Berliotz, Master Morpher and one of the Seven Robes. It was a once in a life-time experience where she sacrificed her own terrible, unflinching hatred of humanity in exchange for imparting such hatred upon Berliotz himself. The result was a cataclysmic strike that blew a one foot hole into the grotesque, gigantic rotting mass that was Berliotz's corrupted, rotting, insane form. This time her imparting would not be so intense or life-changing but she knew from that experience that she had the potential to perform great things if only she was determined enough and willing to give of herself.

Ialari sat upon her bed with the cup in hand. She tried to sit in the most comfortable way possible as the imparting process would take quite a bit of time and concentration. Taking a deep breath then letting it out, she held the cup in her off hand. With her thumb resting lightly over the needle that extended from the thumb print indentation in the side of the cup, she nodded to herself and pressed her thumb down the needle. The tip pierced her thumb just short of the bone. Ialari bit her lip and a few uncontrollable tears formed in the corners of her eyes. She held the wrist of that hand with her other and closed her eyes.

She whispered a prayer of guidance and thanks to Izurdin as focused her thoughts first on her metallic arm. He envisioned the marks of Izurdin, both of them. Starting at her shoulder she mentally traced the lines and angles, curves and twists of the mark as it stretched down and around her tricep and bicep. She continued following it with her mind's eye down to her elbow. She could feel the ever so slight vibrations that began to tremble forth from her arm. A soft smile crossed her face as she felt her arm then grow warm. Through her closed eyelids she could see illumination as the chromatic mix of greens, reds and blues began to swirl about her and light up the room. She was one with her marks and thus felt very close to her Divine Father.

She shifted her thoughts from her marks to the cup. Her intentions for the imparting came to mind and slowly morphed into something that more personified what she was looking to accomplish. Ialari started to remember a time not all that long ago yet feeling as though it happened much further back, back when she first realized the value of a sacrifice.

[Ialari Pythone]

Ialari had left her instructor at the Silver Tower but a short time ago. Having passed all of her tests to become a Sentinel of the Silver Tower, she was told that her final test would come at any time. Her instructor told her that the test would not be what she thought it was and that she could prepare for it all she wanted yet it would push her and strain her in a way that she could never imagine. Even if she thought she knew what the test was looking for, it wasn't always so. That was all the information she was given before heading out that day. She spent the remainder of that day on edge. She found herself fidgeting and unable to sleep. Yet, as she remained away that night, nothing happened. The next day, the same thing, nothing. The same routine continued for many more days leaving Ialari nervous and uncertain. Would she know the test when it arrived? Would she make the right choices that were needed to pass? She heard countless stories of how those seeking to become Sentinels had fallen to their own weakness, lack of faith and inability to understand the nature of the test. Would she meet the same fate?

After nearly ten days of fussing, Ialari went to a familiar place to seek guidance. It was one of the many parks located in Pitrius City. Blackened stone pillars rose upward from the stone of the ground like skeletal fingers reaching up from the grave. In the center of the pillars stood a statue of Izurdin, his arms reaching forth, palms up as if holding something to look at. Countless times Ialari had climbed that statue and sat in the open hands of her Father and spoke with him. When everyone else hadn't the time for her or when she was feeling particularly worrisome, curious, angry or in any manner of emotional states, she would speak her mind to the statue and imagine that she was speaking to Izurdin himself.

"Father, I don't understand. I've done everything expected of me. I've passed every test thus far and have grasped everything they've taught me. What's left? As I'm sure you know, I have but one last test to pass in order to join the Sentinels. They told me I wouldn't know when I was being tested. Am I being tested now? Are they watching me even as I speak with you? It's been many days and nothing's happened. I know I should be patient as patience will open my eyes to the world around me but when does it go from patience to denial? Maybe I failed already and my punishment is not knowing?" Ialari looked to the stone face of the statue. She had memorized every curve, every angle of the statue's face. She had gazed into those stone eyes thousands of times before and in them she always found an answer to her questions. Yet this time, there were no answers. It was as if the eyes sought answers from her. Ialari leaned back a bit in shock. Never had she saw a look like that on the statue's face. Of course the look was just as it had always been, it was Ialari who was perceiving something different.

"I don't know, Father. I don't know why I feel this way. I would've thought to have been tested by now. My mentors would have told me one way or another. If I'd failed, would I still be here? Would I be dead? I've asked and they say nothing or they avoid my questions or redirect them. I don't know what's required of me; what I am meant to do. I've come so far and have been so certain of everything yet now...I don't know." Ialari knew that of all those she could talk to, Izurdin would never judge, never denounce. He would be there with the answers in one form or another. Yet this time, he was silent; he left her to her own thoughts.

It was those thoughts that were quickly interrupted by a sound. It was faint at first but as Ialari turned her attention to it, she could make it out more clearly. Someone was crying for help.