Art by The Golgari Guildhall was an arched subterranean cathedral surrounded by an immense circular maze of fungal hedgerows and overgrown, moss-encrusted ruins. Known as Korozda, the Maze of Decay, the structure loomed, an imposing shadow in the semi-darkness of the Undercity. At its center stood the cathedral itself—Svogthos.

Denizens of Above would whisper of how the cathedral was beautiful, once. Its curved arches and stony towers glistened with obsidian and silver in days gone. But the wear of centuries left it cold and damp, heavy with the smell of staleness and soil. Denizens of Below knew it had never stopped being beautiful. Sobeslav, assistant to Guildmaster Jarad, sat cushioned in the comfort of the Guildhall. His desk attached to that of Jarad vod Savo, who could usually be found wandering the maze outside, avoiding the gaze of the public. Liches were not the social type.

Sobeslav understood this and usually found it best to leave his master be when dealing with matters of state. At that moment, he was working his way through a pile of letters atop a mushroom-lit desk. His elven eyes (hooded, tired, a bit too far apart) scanned the news of Above, and he tutted and tsked at the mishandling of affairs in the well-lit places of the city. Shuttering of communication between the Orzhov and the Azorius. It was for the best that the Golgari stayed below—unfortunate happenings were afoot now that the Guildpact could walk and talk and just up and leave.

As he finished reading them, the elf tossed the bulletins into the rot-pile at the end of his room. The worms had more use for this news than he did. A letter at the bottom of the pile caught Sobeslav's attention. It was written on well-pressed paper and smelled of delicate moss. A shining black seal was stamped on the front.

Tied to the ribbon on the front was a single mushroom. Sobeslav set the mushroom aside and opened the letter gently. The ink that was used to write was exquisite, but the handwriting was a mess of scratches and incomprehensible flecks.

After a moment, Sobeslav made out what it was. It was an invitation. From Mazirek of the kraul.

Sociality demands a shift of the theoretical framework from the public. In accordance with the principle of “a service for a service” (quid pro quo), for example. Brazhenija o prirode i dinamike sotsialnoj kontraktatsii v sovremennoj. He met with his colleague, the president of the NAS of Ukraine academician B.

Sobeslav laughed. He crumpled up the paper and threw it into the rot pit in the corner of his office. It landed with a soft squish. Sobeslav chuckled. Nobody outside of the kraul cared much for the kraul. Why would they? The kraul were a recent addition to the Golgari.

For centuries, they had been an unguilded mass of insectoid brutes. They lived on the peripheral of society and only recently had declared allegiance to the Golgari Swarm. Never one to turn down an opportunity for more members, the Golgari accepted the pledge, and the kraul now served as laborers. The Golgari weren't ones for hierarchy, but even they knew that the kraul weren't that impactful on the rest of the guild. Why in the world would the kraul think that their guildmaster would accept a call from a small-time death priest with so little influence? Sobeslav stared at the crumpled letter with brief consideration. The invitation was just outlandish enough to warrant investigation.. right?

And certainly, Jarad would commend his initiative were he to discover some outrageous news about the kraul of all people. Sobeslav narrowed his eyes and rang a bell on his desk. An attendant poked his head in, awaiting instruction. 'Assemble fifteen members of the guard,' Sobeslav said. Maybe the kraul will learn something of the true might of the Golgari. The mushroom attached to the letter was meant to inform location.

It was an old but accurate way of communicating a meeting place among the Golgari. Fungal systems spread throughout the guild, of course, and one strand of mycelium could stretch thousands of fathoms.

Simple magic could be used to interpret location across these ecosystems of fungus and slime, and nearly all Golgari recognized the intent when gifted an unfamiliar mushroom. Sobeslav performed the spell and heard the mushroom's grove sing to him from three days' travel down and away. Supplies were gathered and ropes were prepared. Their journey would take them far beyond and far below.

Language: Russian. Tschatelno podobrannye illjustratsii - raboty otechestvennykh i zapadnoevropejskikh khudozhnikov i ikonopistsev - podcherkivajut krasotu i velichie kazhdogo prazdnika. Pages: 160 EAN 323. Clipart denj nezavisimosti rossii. Seller Inventory # 10-980200| 6.

The Undercity was nearly endless, but the Golgari were wiser than to build their cities and homes in places that Below did not tolerate their presence. Where Mazirek wanted him to go rested far beyond that. Once assembled, Sobeslav and the small collection of Golgari guards began their trek and descent. Art by The path to the mushroom's grove led Sobeslav and his guards through cave and crevice, under a deep-well waterfall and over miles of empty rot fields. The path led him farther and farther, deeper than any of the party had ever been before.