The Architect [Archive] - Wizards Community

The Architect [Archive] - Wizards Community

Post/Author/DateTime Post
Franco Un-American
09-26-07, 02:07 AM If I remember correctly, this was one of the Demented. Is there much official or fan-created work to get some information on him? Thanks.
Thanael
09-26-07, 03:27 AM Google is your friend: http://www.google.de/search?q=shemeska+the+architect&hl=de&hs=8ql&filter=0
sciborg2
09-26-07, 10:27 AM It's purely Shemmy's creation off the Baernoloths introduced in Planescape.
Shemeska the Marauder
09-26-07, 04:41 PM What Sciborg2 said.

The Architect / Lazarius Ibn Shartalan was my creation vis a vis my first Storyhour and some other linked stories. He shows up in the story for the Proselytizer, and rather frequently in Storyhour 1 (especially in and around the plot arc with Ghyris Vast).

As far as baernaloths in general, in terms of canon sources, only Daru Ib Shamiq and Harishek ap Thulkesh have been named. Daru is never explicitly named as one of the Demented, but it does fit (and Colin McComb didn't seem averse to that label for him). Harishek isn't named as Demented, but trust me on this one since I made him, he is, I just didn't have enough words left in the article to state that overtly (and I didn't think it would survive the editing process, much to my eventual surprise). :)
Lobsopdoy
09-26-07, 09:04 PM What is the Architect's theme? How does he usually work?
Lobsopdoy
10-13-07, 09:04 PM Bump for possible answer
Shemeska the Marauder
10-14-07, 01:43 AM What is the Architect's theme? How does he usually work?

Nothing small scale, often doing things that don't appear to make sense initially, except for on a monstrous time scale when a pattern appears (even by comparison with some of the other baernaloths).

Among things he's known or suspected to have had a hand in: the creation of the Loadstones of Misery, the creation of the Oblivion Compass, the creation of the Shadow Sorcelled Key as an inanimate extension of his will, the formation of the Demented as a distinct group among the baern, having a portion of himself/itself existing like a latent virus within the General of Gehenna, having imparted the secrets of the Divinity Leach to Ghyris Vast, and potentially having some connection to Dandy Will the tiefling lord of Center.

[A lot of those things have appeared already or will appear in my first storyhour]

Among the baern of the Demented, he seems to be accorded some measure of respect by his fellows, either by virtue of being more powerful than them, -or depending on how you read their origin story- being their eldest member. He seems to work closest with his "sister" Tellura Ibn Shartalan the Dire Shepherd and to a marginally lesser extent with the Blind Clockmaker.

He usually works indirectly, disseminating knowledge to key mortals or placing objects into play in the multiverse and watching as events evolve and fall into place within a hideously complex framework like tiny indistinct portions of a larger fractal image. In appearance, his physical form when he manifests one, is usually marked by what seem to be living manifestations of sorcery: flowing equations formed within the turbulence of the spittle in the corners of his mouth, spontaneously changing symbols on his flesh, a telepathic intrusion of numbers and calculations into the thoughts of nearby persons that might manifest itself in those granted his wisdom (willing or not) as a sort of horrific aphasia as they struggle to understand the depth of something they've skimmed the surface of and come away tainted by.

In my 1st storyhour I have some interactions between the Architect and the General of Gehenna, between him and Tellura Ibn Shartalan, and between him and Ghyris Vast (and later when he kills Vast). I'd quote them here, but much of the later material might not fly on the WotC boards with the CoC.

Here's something I wrote a few years ago involving the Architect. It was part of a story centered around him, but I abandoned it to start over from scratch, and my ideas on Lazarius have changed since then. It also hasn't been proofed. But regardless, this might be of interest.

The possibility that we are living in a false vacuum has never been a cheering one to contemplate. Vacuum decay is the ultimate ecological catastrophe; in the new vacuum there are new constants of nature; after vacuum decay, not only is life as we know it impossible, so is chemistry as we know it. However, one could always draw stoic comfort from the possibility that perhaps in the course of time the new vacuum would sustain, if not life as we know it, at least some structures capable of knowing joy. - S. Coleman and F. De Luccia (read that in the most pessimistic light possible)

***

Ghyris Vast, a thin gray haired wretch of a man, haggard but with piercing eyes touched by the insanity of true genius, stood over the still cooling corpses of his two Rakshasa protectors and looked up into the pale milky orbs of his companion's eyes. "Was that really necessary?"

Towering some fifteen feet above him, the nearly skeletal fiend peered down and replied with a harsh, raspy voice nearly devoid of emotion, yet still conveying a sense of malign madness in the sick, wheezing rattle, "It was. To protect the knowledge of our work. After all, none are to know that I, the Architect, have placed a hand into all of this. Do you understand Ghyris?"

"Yes my lord... they'll know not that any but myself created the device."

"Good. For you know that death at their hands would be far more merciful than should I come for you if your word is broken." The Baern sneered and the room's pale light reflected dimly off of its pallid tongue and pale, wasted flesh.

Vast shuddered involuntarily and sighed with resignation. "I know. So give it to them? To all who come looking for it? To all who come to take the Leech? And why? For all of your aid, you've yet to answer me that."

"It is better for you by far to remain ignorant my mortal friend. Give it to them freely. Then for them, do as thou wilt, and my purposes are met." A seizure of coughing struck the fiend and splatters of mucus dripped to the floor from its open mouth before it wiped a forearm absently across its maw.

Vast nodded, questioning still, but fearful. "As you wish."

The Baern turned to gaze at the completed device, The Divinity Leech, the room lit by the periodic flashes and arcs of oddly colored energy leaping from metal coil to metal coil. The colors dancing across its soulless, featureless eyes, it responded with its final words before departing, "Pray that we never meet again my tool."

Vast watched it turn from him and press the flesh of one hand across the smooth surface of the device, the fingers unnaturally long and sallow. Like giving a blessing to a newborn child it seemed to whisper to the construct before simply vanishing into nothing and leaving him alone once more within his workshop to stare at the wonder he had created.

It was using him, but not that it mattered. Little did matter according to his Bleaker’s instincts. Without any real meaning in this world he had listened all those months to his teacher, fumbling with the knowledge it imparted to him, not understanding a fraction of it all. But he would be recognized for his greatness, his genius. That sacrifice of everything, including his own free will would bring him some solace for a time. Recognition and infamy would be his legacy, but an unseen, indelible mark of ownership would be forever burned into his soul. There was no longer a way nor time enough to remove the taint he had been left with.

A part of Vast, had he been fully sane, might have noticed that the cold was not from the room but from the blood slowly returning to his flesh and hands where fear had blanched it white from terror moments before.

The passing of the fiend back to whatever charnel depths of the planes that had birthed it seemed to restore a bit of his own shaken confidence as the warmth slowly returned to the chamber and his limbs. Yet he dimly felt watched, a feeling he had felt ever since the Baernoloth had first spoken with him. He was never alone now. The walls had ears and every shadow eyes to gaze at him. Each unexpected sound was now the sullen footfall of the fiend, lurking always, watching, and overseeing his every move. Somewhere it was out there, and he would never be rid of it till it drug his soul down into oblivion when he had outlived his usefulness. Vast crouched down upon the bare, unyielding iron floor and softly wept.

It was always the same when the fiend had entered, unbidden and unwanted, to aid him in his invention. Part of his mind happily accepted the aid and marveled in the wonders that The Architect whispered into his mind. But another part of the man recoiled from its words, terrified of the creeping foulness that laced itself with the words of the Baern. That part of his mind was always aware of his own damnation and it reminded him of this each time the fiend had departed. There was no escape but to prolong the meaningless suffering of this life in order to forestall what was waiting for him after death. Whatever was there behind the veil when he passed beyond it into death, it would wear the face of the Baern.

Cradling his head in his arms and slowly rocking himself, Ghyris Vast whimpered and wept for himself, always surrounded but always alone. In his mind, that part of him that would always remind and torment him with his sins and the horror into which he had sold himself, it smiled as Vast shuddered and gave a tortured cry of hopelessness. Inside his mind the Baern smiled. Lazarius Ibn Shartalan, the Architect, smiled and licked an ephemeral tongue across the shattered mind and tortured soul of his tool Ghyris Vast, savoring his self inflicted agony.

Soon they would come for the device, unknowing and ignorant of its power and its origins. They would take it and they would use it. From Vast to them, the litany of agony and damnation would leap from soul to soul across the Astral as his designs bore their bitter, rotten fruit. Looking at the device with a mixture of triumph and revulsion, for but a moment the eyes of Ghyris Vast flickered with something else, and within his skull his bloodshot human eyes were but windows to the burning, wasted orbs of the Baern.

***

“And in the end I always offered them weapons, and they always bought. And of course I was always gone before they realized what they’d purchased.” – Leland Gaunt, “Needful Things”- Steven King
Lobsopdoy
10-15-07, 12:39 PM Fantastic as always, Shemeska. It's a little like a Baernaloth I've made for my own Planescape campaign, but much more well-formed and solid. I've not yet filled in much of the blanks. You're still the king.

Post/Author/DateTime	Post
Franco Un-American 09-26-07, 02:07 AM	If I remember correctly, this was one of the Demented. Is there much official or fan-created work to get some information on him? Thanks.
Thanael 09-26-07, 03:27 AM	Google is your friend: http://www.google.de/search?q=shemeska+the+architect&hl=de&hs=8ql&filter=0
sciborg2 09-26-07, 10:27 AM	It's purely Shemmy's creation off the Baernoloths introduced in Planescape.
Shemeska the Marauder 09-26-07, 04:41 PM	What Sciborg2 said. The Architect / Lazarius Ibn Shartalan was my creation vis a vis my first Storyhour and some other linked stories. He shows up in the story for the Proselytizer, and rather frequently in Storyhour 1 (especially in and around the plot arc with Ghyris Vast). As far as baernaloths in general, in terms of canon sources, only Daru Ib Shamiq and Harishek ap Thulkesh have been named. Daru is never explicitly named as one of the Demented, but it does fit (and Colin McComb didn't seem averse to that label for him). Harishek isn't named as Demented, but trust me on this one since I made him, he is, I just didn't have enough words left in the article to state that overtly (and I didn't think it would survive the editing process, much to my eventual surprise). :)
Lobsopdoy 09-26-07, 09:04 PM	What is the Architect's theme? How does he usually work?
Lobsopdoy 10-13-07, 09:04 PM	Bump for possible answer
Shemeska the Marauder 10-14-07, 01:43 AM	What is the Architect's theme? How does he usually work? Nothing small scale, often doing things that don't appear to make sense initially, except for on a monstrous time scale when a pattern appears (even by comparison with some of the other baernaloths). Among things he's known or suspected to have had a hand in: the creation of the Loadstones of Misery, the creation of the Oblivion Compass, the creation of the Shadow Sorcelled Key as an inanimate extension of his will, the formation of the Demented as a distinct group among the baern, having a portion of himself/itself existing like a latent virus within the General of Gehenna, having imparted the secrets of the Divinity Leach to Ghyris Vast, and potentially having some connection to Dandy Will the tiefling lord of Center. [A lot of those things have appeared already or will appear in my first storyhour] Among the baern of the Demented, he seems to be accorded some measure of respect by his fellows, either by virtue of being more powerful than them, -or depending on how you read their origin story- being their eldest member. He seems to work closest with his "sister" Tellura Ibn Shartalan the Dire Shepherd and to a marginally lesser extent with the Blind Clockmaker. He usually works indirectly, disseminating knowledge to key mortals or placing objects into play in the multiverse and watching as events evolve and fall into place within a hideously complex framework like tiny indistinct portions of a larger fractal image. In appearance, his physical form when he manifests one, is usually marked by what seem to be living manifestations of sorcery: flowing equations formed within the turbulence of the spittle in the corners of his mouth, spontaneously changing symbols on his flesh, a telepathic intrusion of numbers and calculations into the thoughts of nearby persons that might manifest itself in those granted his wisdom (willing or not) as a sort of horrific aphasia as they struggle to understand the depth of something they've skimmed the surface of and come away tainted by. In my 1st storyhour I have some interactions between the Architect and the General of Gehenna, between him and Tellura Ibn Shartalan, and between him and Ghyris Vast (and later when he kills Vast). I'd quote them here, but much of the later material might not fly on the WotC boards with the CoC. Here's something I wrote a few years ago involving the Architect. It was part of a story centered around him, but I abandoned it to start over from scratch, and my ideas on Lazarius have changed since then. It also hasn't been proofed. But regardless, this might be of interest. The possibility that we are living in a false vacuum has never been a cheering one to contemplate. Vacuum decay is the ultimate ecological catastrophe; in the new vacuum there are new constants of nature; after vacuum decay, not only is life as we know it impossible, so is chemistry as we know it. However, one could always draw stoic comfort from the possibility that perhaps in the course of time the new vacuum would sustain, if not life as we know it, at least some structures capable of knowing joy. - S. Coleman and F. De Luccia (read that in the most pessimistic light possible) * Ghyris Vast, a thin gray haired wretch of a man, haggard but with piercing eyes touched by the insanity of true genius, stood over the still cooling corpses of his two Rakshasa protectors and looked up into the pale milky orbs of his companion's eyes. "Was that really necessary?" Towering some fifteen feet above him, the nearly skeletal fiend peered down and replied with a harsh, raspy voice nearly devoid of emotion, yet still conveying a sense of malign madness in the sick, wheezing rattle, "It was. To protect the knowledge of our work. After all, none are to know that I, the Architect, have placed a hand into all of this. Do you understand Ghyris?" "Yes my lord... they'll know not that any but myself created the device." "Good. For you know that death at their hands would be far more merciful than should I come for you if your word is broken." The Baern sneered and the room's pale light reflected dimly off of its pallid tongue and pale, wasted flesh. Vast shuddered involuntarily and sighed with resignation. "I know. So give it to them? To all who come looking for it? To all who come to take the Leech? And why? For all of your aid, you've yet to answer me that." "It is better for you by far to remain ignorant my mortal friend. Give it to them freely. Then for them, do as thou wilt, and my purposes are met." A seizure of coughing struck the fiend and splatters of mucus dripped to the floor from its open mouth before it wiped a forearm absently across its maw. Vast nodded, questioning still, but fearful. "As you wish." The Baern turned to gaze at the completed device, The Divinity Leech, the room lit by the periodic flashes and arcs of oddly colored energy leaping from metal coil to metal coil. The colors dancing across its soulless, featureless eyes, it responded with its final words before departing, "Pray that we never meet again my tool." Vast watched it turn from him and press the flesh of one hand across the smooth surface of the device, the fingers unnaturally long and sallow. Like giving a blessing to a newborn child it seemed to whisper to the construct before simply vanishing into nothing and leaving him alone once more within his workshop to stare at the wonder he had created. It was using him, but not that it mattered. Little did matter according to his Bleaker’s instincts. Without any real meaning in this world he had listened all those months to his teacher, fumbling with the knowledge it imparted to him, not understanding a fraction of it all. But he would be recognized for his greatness, his genius. That sacrifice of everything, including his own free will would bring him some solace for a time. Recognition and infamy would be his legacy, but an unseen, indelible mark of ownership would be forever burned into his soul. There was no longer a way nor time enough to remove the taint he had been left with. A part of Vast, had he been fully sane, might have noticed that the cold was not from the room but from the blood slowly returning to his flesh and hands where fear had blanched it white from terror moments before. The passing of the fiend back to whatever charnel depths of the planes that had birthed it seemed to restore a bit of his own shaken confidence as the warmth slowly returned to the chamber and his limbs. Yet he dimly felt watched, a feeling he had felt ever since the Baernoloth had first spoken with him. He was never alone now. The walls had ears and every shadow eyes to gaze at him. Each unexpected sound was now the sullen footfall of the fiend, lurking always, watching, and overseeing his every move. Somewhere it was out there, and he would never be rid of it till it drug his soul down into oblivion when he had outlived his usefulness. Vast crouched down upon the bare, unyielding iron floor and softly wept. It was always the same when the fiend had entered, unbidden and unwanted, to aid him in his invention. Part of his mind happily accepted the aid and marveled in the wonders that The Architect whispered into his mind. But another part of the man recoiled from its words, terrified of the creeping foulness that laced itself with the words of the Baern. That part of his mind was always aware of his own damnation and it reminded him of this each time the fiend had departed. There was no escape but to prolong the meaningless suffering of this life in order to forestall what was waiting for him after death. Whatever was there behind the veil when he passed beyond it into death, it would wear the face of the Baern. Cradling his head in his arms and slowly rocking himself, Ghyris Vast whimpered and wept for himself, always surrounded but always alone. In his mind, that part of him that would always remind and torment him with his sins and the horror into which he had sold himself, it smiled as Vast shuddered and gave a tortured cry of hopelessness. Inside his mind the Baern smiled. Lazarius Ibn Shartalan, the Architect, smiled and licked an ephemeral tongue across the shattered mind and tortured soul of his tool Ghyris Vast, savoring his self inflicted agony. Soon they would come for the device, unknowing and ignorant of its power and its origins. They would take it and they would use it. From Vast to them, the litany of agony and damnation would leap from soul to soul across the Astral as his designs bore their bitter, rotten fruit. Looking at the device with a mixture of triumph and revulsion, for but a moment the eyes of Ghyris Vast flickered with something else, and within his skull his bloodshot human eyes were but windows to the burning, wasted orbs of the Baern. * “And in the end I always offered them weapons, and they always bought. And of course I was always gone before they realized what they’d purchased.” – Leland Gaunt, “Needful Things”- Steven King
Lobsopdoy 10-15-07, 12:39 PM	Fantastic as always, Shemeska. It's a little like a Baernaloth I've made for my own Planescape campaign, but much more well-formed and solid. I've not yet filled in much of the blanks. You're still the king.