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Dev'ad Anan Tol

Page history last edited by Jamber 13 years, 1 month ago


Dev'ad Anan Tol



Name: Dev'ad Anan Tol

Pseudonyms: --

Age: Around 300 000 years (assuming a similar age to Onrack)

Race: T'lan Imass

Appearance: --

Further info: An Imass of the Irynthal Clan when they were enslaved by Raest.





Dev'ad Anan Tol was an ingenious Imass, an inventor who created the first mining tools and iron weapons. He plotted Raest's downfall and got close before Raest shattered his legs and left him to die. However Dev'ad was caught in the Ritual of Tellann and persisted until he was discovered by Harllo who brought him femur bones of an emlava intended to be used as splints. Using the power of the ritual Dev'ad was able to repair his legs using these bones at set out to Darujhistan where he found Raest in the Finnest House and promptly ended up trapped in the yard.





"In the yellow light he looked round and saw, sitting up against a wall of the crevasse not three paces away, a corpse.  Desiccated, the face collapsed and eye sockets shrunken holes.  Both legs were shattered, clearly from a fall, the shards ticking through the leathery skin.

Furs drawn up like a blanket, and close to within reach of one motionless, skeletal hand was a rotted bag now split open, revealing two antler picks, a bone punch and a groundstone mallet.  A miner, Harllo realized, just like him.  A miner of long, long ago." (TtH)


"I am Dev'ad Anan Tol, of the Irynthal Clan of the Imass, who once lived on the shores of the Jhagra Til until the Tyrant Raest came to enslave us.  Sent us down into the rock, where we all died.  Yet see, I did not die.  Alone of all my kin, I did not die." (TtH)


"Cub.  Take my tools.  The first ever made and by my own hand.  I was an inventor.  In my mind ideas bred with such frenzy that I lived in a fever.  At times, at night, I went half mad.  So many thoughts, so many notions – my clan feared me.  The bonecaster feared me.  Raest himself feared me, and so he had me thrown down here.  To die.  And so too the death of my ideas." (TtH)


"'We have metal picks now,' Harllo said. 'Iron.'

'Skystone. Yes, I saw much of it in the tunnels. The Jaghut used sorcery to bring it forth and shape it - we were not permitted to witness such things. But I thought, even then, how it might be drawn free, without magic. With heat. Drawn out, given shape, made into useful things. Does Raest still rule?.'" (TtH)


"Raest's unhuman face twisted indignant. Outraged. Slaves were ever slaves. None could rise to challenge the master. None could dare plot the master's downfall, none could get as close as Dev'ad had done. Yes, an outrage, a crime againts the laws of nature itself.

'I break you, T'lan. I leave you here, in this pit of eternal darkness. To die. To rot. None shall know a word of your mad ambition. All knowledge of you shall fade, shall vanish. Nothing of you shall remain. Know this, could I keep you alive down here for ever, I would - and even that torture would not suffice. In my enforced indifference, T'lan, lies mercy.'" (TtH)


Dev'ad's weapons


"He held up the sword he had made countless thousands of years ago. Yes, it had the form of flint, the ridges encircling ever flake struck from the edge, the undulating modulations of parallel flaking and the twin flutes running the length to either side of a wavy dorsal spine. The antler base that formed the grip was now mineralized, a most comforting and pleasing weight.

The form of flint indeed. And yet this sword was made of iron, tempered in the holy fires of Tellann. Impervious to rust, to decay, the huge weapon was the hue of first night, the deep blue sky once the final light of the drowned sun had faded. In the moment of the stars' birth, yes, that was the colour of this blade.

He leaned it point down against the wall and reached into the crack again, drawing out a matching knife - hefty as a short sword." (TtH)


Enslavement by the Azath


"'Although, come to think of it, I did have a visitor earlier this evening.'

'What? Oh well, I'm happy for you, but -' Raest lifted one desiccated hand and pointed. Antsy and Barathol turned. And there, in the yard, there was a fresh mound of raw earth, steaming. Vines were visibly snaking over it.

'Gods below,' the Falari whispered, making a warding gesture with one hand.

'A T'lan Imass with odd legs,' said Raest. 'It seemed to harbour some dislike towards me.' The Jaghut paused. 'I can't imagine why.'

Antsy grunted. 'It should've stayed on the path.'

'What do T'lan Imass know of footpaths?' Raest asked. 'In any case, it's still too angry for a conversation.' Another pause. 'But there's time.'" (TtH)


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