RP:A Question of Binding
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
Summary: Larewen comes across Ayras struggling to find a spell of binding for her weapon. Rather than make it easy for the warrior, Larewen offers tutelage in the Necromancer's Guild instead.
Hanging Corpse Tavern
This once-timber tavern has been rebuilt in sturdily vitrified blackstone and imbued with powerful protective magics that prevent occult fire and several other potentially harmful spells being cast within its walls. No effort has been spared to make what might otherwise be a bleak interior comfortable. The bar is made of polished stone with an oaken inlay, the space behind filled with a bustle of attractive barmaids, sundry barrels and a dazzling array of coloured bottles that glint in the light cast by a large wrought-iron candelabrum suspended from the ceiling overhead. Here, the one-eyed Steadman stands, ready to take orders for food or drink. Beyond the bar, stout tables are firmly bolted to the floor, though the high-backed chairs are freestanding. The hearth is a true feature, seeming to be cast from black lava into the shape of a colossal, laughing goblin's head, its maw gaping wide and deep, usually containing a merrily crackling fire. A delicious scent of roasting meats drifts in from the kitchens and a winding staircase leads to rooms upstairs. To the south are set cellar doors, usually kept locked unless a special event is taking place. The walls are hung with thick, richly woven tapestries depicting persons and events in the history of Vailkrin and the Vampiric race. There's also a notice-board near the entrance, where one may leave messages. Unobtrusive but ever-present are the security staff, staunch fighters ever ready to toss troublemakers out.
Ayras slapped her book shut with the slightest of growls. "Gods be damned, the spells I know will be no help with this whatsoever." She set the tome on the arm of the chair she occupied, resisting every destructive urge in her to throw the thing into the fire before her. With a raised hand she looked as best she could towards the bar, waving instead of snapping - she wasn't -always- rude - to try to garner Steadmen's attention. Of course, her callout to follow likely helped. "Steadmen, a glass of the good wine, please?" Yes, the callout is likely what got the barkeep to notice the once-living elf.
Larewen enters the establishment, her presence heralded by a distinctly dark aura. This evening, the necromancer is garbed in a simple verdant gown and soft boots, her wavy, dark brown tresses framing a pale face. Mismatched eyes sweep over those present and a twitch of her lips upward is offered in Emilia's direction before the elf makes her way to her customary seat: and finds it occupied. Grinding her teeth, the elf's gaze settles on Ayras for a long moment as she decides how best to approach this new problem. Should she be petty and demand the chair? Or.... she goes with the latter, "Help with what, exactly?" Her candied voice intrudes upon the other's frustration.
Ayras swiveled back around as words were levied her way. The woman before her was...well, at least Ayras recognized the face, one seen here a handful of times prior. And in this seat. Perhaps she'd want it, to settle her rump - Ayras had to take a peek at it, because of course she did - in, but Ayras was a creature of comfort when she wasn't off murdering, and this was the most comfortable chair in the house. "A binding ritual," she said at length, finally giving reply to the query. "For adding a little...something to my weapon." She tilted her head towards the somewhat slender, two-handed weapon rested against Larewen's chair by way of indication.
Larewen arches a slender brow, arms crossing over her torso as she cants her head to the side. Mismatched eyes slide toward the weapon, studying it for a long moment before returning to the woman. "Soul-binding?" she asks, a lilt to her voice. Her lips quirk upward again at the edges. "I can teach you that, should you have interest in the Necromancer's Guild. I'd offer to do it for you, but... where's the fun in that? You seem to me like a woman who prefers to get things done on her own terms, after all." At least, this is what Larewen has garnered from their brief encounters prior to this moment. Her weight shifts to one foot, a single hand unfurling from where it settled around her torso to push a few errant waves behind a pointed ear. "Am I wrong?"
Ayras cocked her head at the mention of the Necromancer's Guild. Once, she would have declined in a heartbeat. But that was when she was sworn to another, a Knight of the frozen kingdom. Vailkrin, however, was a place that had awakened curiosities in her, that had given her cause to seek out new avenues. However, these avenues, while providing new spells to the vampire, locked away her former repertoire of lightning-based magics. "Soul-binding of a sort, yes, though I expect it will require some augmentation to bind the creature that I seek to bind." Those black veins that crawled up her flesh, how they surged, as though furious about the discussion at hand. "However, my current path is not exactly arcane, these days. Does the guild have access to spellwork that would be of use by one given to Vakmatharas?"
Larewen wrinkles her nose and lifts her chin slightly at Ayras's query, drawing up a chair alongside the woman and, for the moment at least, letting it rest that the other is in her preferred spot. "Most definitely so," she answers, her voice as sweet as before. "After all, for many of our ilk, Vakmatharas is our patron diety. House Mahara holds the keys to the Black Library, but therein, members of the Necromancer's Guild have access to many things. If you are willing, I'd be more than happy to bring you into our ranks and show you these things so that you can begin expanding your knowledge--not only to accomplish what you desire with your weapon, but to further your own goals as well. I am certain you have more than a desire to simply sit around the Corpse."
Ayras mulled over Larewen's words. Hm. Perhaps...just perhaps...but there was only one way to truly find out. And talk of her goals outside of her weapon brought a fanged grin to her lips, a wicked thing befitting one so intimate with death. "Madame," she said as she rose from the chair she had stolen, dipping into a bow, "we have an accord." Ah, her wine was finally arriving. She paid for the drink and took a sip as she turned back to Larewen. "You mentioned House Mahara. I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with any but House Azakhaer."
Larewen blinks at Emilia, taking note of the woman's state of inebriation. She offers an awkward turn of her lips before refocusing her attention on Ayras. The other's raising from her chair is noted, but Larewen does not move to steal it. That would be awfully childish of someone who wants to be queen, no? Instead, she simply smiles at the red-haired woman. "Yes, there are several Houses within Vailkrin. My own is House Dragana. There are few you need to worry about orienting yourself with if you intend to stay though, for as you can see, things are a bit... what's the word? Icky? No.... Unsteady right now." She's referring to the civil war she incited, the conflict between the Houses. The trouble she has single-handedly stirred.
Ayras chuckled, a wry grin on her lips. Unsteady. How did she always manage to get herself into situations that pulled her to cities in such a state? "I am not unaccustomed to civil unrest. Perhaps we can discuss which Houses I should avoid at another time." The warrior woman took up her weapon from the side of the plush seat and cradled it in her arms. She quickly drained off what remained of her wine before setting the empty glass aside. "For now, I've a need to hunt. Bloodwine always just makes me thirstier." Another bow was issued. "Until our next meeting, then?"
Larewen dips her head to Ayras. "Sounds like a splendid way to spend our next meeting, Ayras," the necromancer responds, waving down a passing server for her own order of bloodwine. "Until then, be well."