Anctarcarim

Anctarcarim
Status:	Alive
Guild:	Cleric
Race:	Elf
Gender:	Male
Location:	Muspar'i (Ranik Map 47)
Type:	Guild Leader
Relatives:	[[related to::Lhars]]

Anctarcarim is the leader of the Muspar'i Cleric guildhall, Ganen Eliza, located on the Street of Priests.

Description

The guildleader Anctarcarim is a heavy Sand Elf man with cropped light brown hair and emerald eyes, clothed in a sleeveless open tunic and suede trousers. Tendrils of ivylike, vinegar-hued tattoos span his tanned skin from his arms and mostly shaven face to his chest and ample belly. A thick goatee, braided long and clasped at the end with gold, suspends off his chin. He manages to appear both morose and cordial at the same time as he untiringly edifies the priesthood of Muspar'i and Velaka.

Appearance

You see Guildmaster Anctarcarim of Velaka, an Elven Cleric.
Anctarcarim has pointed ears and emerald eyes. His light brown hair is cropped and fine, and he has a fat build. Tendrils of ivylike, vinegar-hued tattoos span his tanned skin from his arms and mostly shaven face to his chest and ample belly. A thick goatee, braided long and clasped at the end with gold, suspends off his chin.
He is average height for an Elf.
He appears to be an adult.
He is in good shape.

He is holding a silvered tribal yataghan in his right hand.
He is wearing a ruddy tan targe, an aeneous bone cuirass painstakingly sunken-reliefed to depict a besieged temple, a sleeveless open tunic of darkly brocaded spidersilk, a pair of heavy black gold armlets, a sand-scarred belt with a spinel-hilted tribal yataghan hanging from it, a brown leather haversack, a jadeite gwethdesuan, a kyanite gwethdesuan, some maroon suede trousers and some calf-length desert boots.

Old appearance prior to becoming a guildleader:

You see Dervish Anctarcarim of Velaka, an Elven Cleric.
Anctarcarim has pointed ears and emerald eyes. His light brown hair is cropped and fine, and he has a fat build. Tendrils of ivylike, vinegar-hued tattoos span his tanned skin from his arms and mostly shaven face to his chest and ample belly. A thick goatee, braided long and clasped at the end with gold, suspends off his chin.
He is average height for an Elf.
He is mature for an Elf.
He is in good shape.

He is holding some frothy pink champagne served in a dewy silver long-stemmed goblet in his left hand.
He is wearing a sleeveless open tunic of darkly brocaded spidersilk, a pair of heavy black gold armlets, a sand-scarred belt with a silvered tribal yataghan and a spinel-hilted tribal yataghan hanging from it, a brown leather haversack, a jadeite gwethdesuan, a kyanite gwethdesuan, some maroon suede trousers and some calf-length desert boots.

Conversation Topics

• Altar: The cleric leader Anctarcarim tilts his head to look southeast. "Our chapel altar is humbler than those of the two temples, but it will serve most of your spiritual needs just as well."
• Temple: Anctarcarim pats his belly and nods with a knowing expression. "Our city is graced by two great sanctuaries. The World Dragon Temple is one of the very, very few places where Sh'kial's disciples can conduct their worship in peace." Shooting you a severe look, he continues, "The Temple of Hav'roth, of course, is where you should be observing your devotions."
• Cemetery: Anctarcarim replies, "At present our places for the dead are undisturbed by the undead who seek to claim the buried remains to their legion. However, the desert is less safe than it used to be."
• Devotion: Anctarcarim's face becomes alight with ardor for his vocation as he begins to explain, "The term Devotion as we call it among our order is a personal measure of how dedicated you are to your gods and, in kind, how favorably They regard you. It is essentially what allows us to be the primary conduit between the gods and the mortals. Learn the myriad sacred rituals and weave them into your very life, <Cleric>.
  

A Cleric who is pure of spirit has the ability to invoke the power and wisdom of the gods through Devotion, but as Clerics are mere mortals, all power must be absorbed and channeled through us. Being that we ourselves are imperfect, much of the divinity is repelled and lost before the Cleric can even use it. Never forget the simple fact that mortals are mortals, and gods are gods.

On the other hand, if you engage in practices which the gods themselves have forbidden -- such as graverobbing, necromancy or otherwise aiding the undead --, you will find the divine deaf to your pleas, and even your own magic will wilt without the lifeblood that is faith. To be rid of this profane state and become ritually Clean once again, a Cleric must employ the more dedicated rituals."

• Necromancy: Anctarcarim's face grows dour, eyes flickering with indignation. "All, all Immortals despise that foul magic, <Cleric>, even the darkest. Its products -- the undead -- are mockeries of the divine's creations and corrupt the cycle of Life and Death. Necromantic taint festers deep in the soul, which brings utter spiritual ruination sooner or later. As a holy servant of the gods, you must be especially careful to remain pure in the face of such evil, lest you become unclean and unworthy in Their eyes."
• Necropolis: Anctarcarim looks at you and says, "That is something best answered on Aesry Surlaenis'a, Cazvelu."
• Gods: The cleric leader Anctarcarim cracks a smile as he answers.
  

"Many are the gods of our land. There is Kertigen, patron of the crafter's trade. There is Hodierna, the great goddess of life, who smiles upon us all. There is Meraud, god of magic and foresight and the dark side of the arcane arts. There is Damaris, who is the quiet god of assassins, thieves, dreams, and the night. There is Everild, whose smile brings victory to many a warrior. Truffenyi, the god of forgiveness, blesses us with the power of resurrection. Hav'roth serves the earth, his soul, it is said, dwells within all rocks and stones. Eluned is the Lady of the seas and wisdom, and a master of arcane arts. Glythtide brings joy wherever he goes; his laughter brings spring. Tamsine is the lady of the hearth and brings peace to homes. Faenella brought song into the world of silence, and is a great patron of all arts, it is she who brought music to all peoples. Chadatru is the god of justice who also brings warmth with the sun every day. And...."

The priest's hand trembles briefly and he clasps his hands together, then continues, saying, "Last of them and the one who is the hardest to serve is Urrem'tier, who is, quite literally, Death."

"All of us must go to Urrem'tier someday, even the Elves Fade into that genderless god's embrace. Death by that spirit's hand is, as ever, final, and it is Urrem'tier who will someday guide us down our last steps on the Starry Path."

• Grace: The cleric leader Anctarcarim gazes into your eyes and then nods. Upraising one finger, he touches your forehead and whispers, "The gods have indeed smiled upon you, <Cleric>."
• Wren: Anctarcarim pauses, "The wren? That's a symbol of Faenella, the goddess of music. You should know that already."
• Favor: "I speak of the favors that a cleric gains to use in communing, <Cleric>," the leader says, "not the type you earn to preserve your soul from the ravages of death."
  

The cleric leader Anctarcarim gazes into your eyes and then nods. Upraising one finger, he touches your forehead and whispers, "The gods have indeed smiled upon you, <Cleric>."

Miscellaneous

• His patron deity is Be'ort.
• He was consulting with Tallis regarding the Necromancer Lhars and his associates who have caused significant problems in Sand Clan (Heru Taipa) and surrounding area.
• In a turn of events, Anctarcarim was revealed as the son of Lhars. He fought to kill Lhars alongside some adventurers, and it seems clear that he has no allegiance to the being that was once his father.
• He was tapped be the guild leader of the reopened Muspar'i Cleric guildhall per a proclamation posted in the existing guildhalls:

A temple proclamation reads:

Brethren,

King Arhhdan of Muspar'i has graciously assented to the reopening of the Cleric Guild in his fair city! We have word that the renovations are well underway. Anctarcarim of the Sand Clan has been chosen to oversee this guildhall. He is presently on a pilgrimage to seek counsel and blessing from each of our leaders. It shall soon conclude in Riverhaven, and from there he shall head back to Velaka and assume his duty.

Sister Mavinga Morvora Handmaiden to High Priestess Tallis Elarial

A Tale of Be'ort

Anctarcarim says, "In one of the villages of Heru Taipa, there lived a young woman named Vinegar. She was trained as a Barbarian, and she was happily married to another of her clan."
Anctarcarim says, "When she was pregnant with her first and only child, her bliss began to dwindle. Her husband, it turned out, had lost himself in the ashes of a long-smoldering resentment: that the noble Sand Elves must share their ancestral land with the S'Kra Mur. He would spit the name of the great city Muspar'i with rancor, and soon he and some hunter friends of his started engaging in desert trips from which they returned bloodied but bearing no game. The man never told much to Vinegar, and so their marriage gradually soured."
Anctarcarim says, "One of her many bleak mornings, when Vinegar went to check the chicken coop for eggs, she found nothing but gore and feathers. In the midst of it all lay two smug coyotes, fattened from their carnage. Coyotes are common in the desert, but this pair was curiously a pure white."
Anctarcarim says, "Now, Vinegar was a skillful warrior; no doubt she could have slain the beasts on the spot, unarmed even. For one reason or another, however, she didn't. Instead, she kept them both as pets. She named them Zin, "bad luck", and Min, "pain". Not surprising choices, given her arduous life."
Anctarcarim says, "In the next months, her husband grew more and more absent from their home. She knew he was out killing the S'Kra, paving the road to another war their clan could not win. It was then that she took to the habit of talking to her coyotes -- or, as the neighbors would have said, talking to her despondent self. The animals would never leave her side, often snarling at those who came near Vinegar."
Anctarcarim says, "Her two younger sisters frequently visited her. "Vinegar, Vinegar," they said one day, "why do you gloom so?" She answered nothing, instead sending them out to collect fresh oleanders for her. The children sprightly obliged, for they knew Vinegar had always been fond of the pink and white flowers. In another version of the story, it is the coyote pair who brought the oleanders."
Anctarcarim says, "The exact ending of the tale is shrouded in obscurity, but that night Vinegar poisoned her husband. The oleander sap had done its job: the man was a lifeless heap on the floor. Be'ort gave the pregnant woman a one-time respite from her woes, and she slept deep and undisturbed even as her wildlings howled keenly all night long."
Anctarcarim says, "The husband's body was gone in the morning. Some say the coyotes feasted on his unworthy flesh, while others say he survived and crawled away to other villages. Most say Vinegar still lives in that same village, albeit aged unnaturally because of her afflicted spirit."

The coyotes now reside in Anctarcarim's alcove in the Ganen Eliza:

The huge white coyotes are in almost constant motion, running about and snapping at each other's tail as well as any bystanders. Be they loved pets or feral watchdogs, neither chain nor collar binds these intelligent-looking animals. An evil eye stone has been braided onto each coyote's nape fur.

PET: You reach toward one of the pure white coyotes and pet its strangely fevered fur. It slaps the floor with its tail petulantly, but otherwise tolerates you.

KISS: You reach toward one of the pure white coyotes and kiss its strangely fevered fur. It slaps the floor with its tail petulantly, but otherwise tolerates you.

Something small steals across the entryway, causing the coyotes to turn their heads in that direction and stare with barely confined aggression. They remain alert and growly for a while longer.

One of the white coyotes stands menacingly in front of you, fixing its dark greenish yellow eyes on your face. Taking advantage of the distraction, the other coyote approaches from behind and nips at your elbow! Ow!

Be careful -- poking the coyotes will cause them to bite your hand off.