RP:A Thorn Between a Dragon's Plates

Summary: Larewen seeks out Gheneroc in hopes of forging an alliance with her former master, but clearly there is still bad blood in the air between the pair.

OOC Note: Posts beginning with the name 'Ohan' are written by Gheneroc.

Path to Xalious

Larewen approached from the east, undead drowic pre-teen at her side. Her lips were pressed into a contemplative frown beneath the veil of her hat, dark eyes focused elsewhere entirely. She saw the road ahead of her, but at the same time, her sight was turned inward, toward her own mind. A blink or two later, and she slowed to a halt to look down at Latulepi, this time her gaze hardening somewhat. "You've got to be more careful, Latu," she chastised, her voice holding as much warmth as the elf could manage - which wasn't really much at all. She was fairly certain her own creation didn't even understand those words, and though the necromancer could magically entice her into following her every whim, it seemed for the moment that she chose not to. The elf was clad as usual, though the lingering stain of the Chain of Domination was cleared from her flesh. There was also no bump of a ring beneath the tight sleeve of her glove.

Latulepi follows closely in step as much as one with poor coordination could. Larewen's presence perhaps further encouraged the girl to keep up as steadily as possible, though this may not be a conscious thought. As the vampiress' words address the other, Latu lifts her gaze to those dark eyes. "Caref..ul." She repeats to an extent. Indeed it is another matter entirely to determine whether those words had meaning to the girl or if she merely repeated them on occasion. After lifting a hand, Latulepi pats Larewen on the arm once or twice and continues to stare up at her with that unreadable emptiness.

Gheneroc was not within the small confines of Kelay, however Ohan was. The half elf tread carefully to keep out of sight, but Larewen caught his eye - the half elf might seem familiar but otherwise made no move to be noticed by the necromancer. The roguish man was on a mission of his own

Larewen did notice him though, if only by his smell. She'd met Ohan, before he'd become a slave to Gheneroc's whim and having spent that time talking with him of dark magics beneath the necropolis, she'd committed that scent to memory. Not to mention, he'd tried to stand in her way when she broke away from her own master. Letu's rasping repetition of the elf's words were on deaf ears as her gaze lifted, gloved hand patting the scalped skull of the stitched corpse as dark eyes fixed upon the mercenary. "Ohan," she called out, her voice crisp. "On an errand for Gheneroc, are you?" There was venom in the manner in which she'd spoken the dragon's name, one that had not been there before.

Ohan stopped when Larewen addressed him. No longer was he the winery owner that had dwelled within this now shell of a man. He had not used his words in so long, it seemed to take him by surprise and there was a perceptible delay between Larewen's question and the half elf's reply. "That is no business of yours." Ohan returned curtly. Gheneroc had not yet taken Ohan's awareness, the man's mind, however, was now dictated by more magic than whatever personality he previously had.

Latulepi lets her hand fall back to her side as Larewen pats her head. Unlike the necromancer, Latulepi does not recognize the scent outright, if at all, for her those lifeless brown eyes slide in the direction that pulls her master's attention. She watches the movements that have not yet become a visible being, but remains otherwise quiet.

Larewen curled her lips upward into a sneer in the half-elf's direction, her head tilting at an angle. "No, I suppose it's not. Is he still snivelling in the deep? Or better yet, is he still chasing the Silver?" Bitterness wrought the last bit of her words, having learned things she'd much rather not know from her conversation with Hildegarde. A moment passed, a breath for the living. "Or perhaps even a new favorite?" She hmmed thoughtfully, patting the rotting fingers curled around her arm.

Ohan was less than voluntary with the information. Instead, he turned, more confrontational to the elven vampire, former follower. "Why? Your tone is far from friendly." Ohan placed his hand on one of his swords. "Are we to now consider you an enemy, Larewen?" Gheneroc's mind now caught wind of the sight, and slowly, the elf's Chain began to thrum softly with magic energy.

Larewen felt the magic within Ohan's Chain flare to life as she remained where she was, hand upon the stitched corpse's own still. "And what reason would I have to be friendly?" she asked, her gaze narrowing slightly. With the magic thrumming to life, Larewen's words turned directly toward the saurian that she knew was watching the exchange. "Would you like to consider me an enemy, Gheneroc? You certainly are not my friend."

Gheneroc watched a few moments longer and despite Ohan's clear distaste for Larewen's company he remained. "That will be a decision you must make. You have your own path to follow." The half elf's gaze was as stern as when the conversation started. "What do you want of Gheneroc?" He asked pointedly.

Larewen tilted her head to the side, amused by the disdain that crawled across the half-elf's features. A glint of fang belied this. "To speak with him, of course. Though given how angry he was when I decided to follow my own path..." she trailed off. Then, perhaps as a jab at the dragon, she added, "Though I've certainly learned far more on my own than I did while I was under his control."

Ohan shrugged. "I'm not sure he would be interested unless you have something to offer." With that, Ohan moved to leave Larewen's company. Gheneroc hadn't assumed full control, rather just passively watching from wherever in the world the dragon hid.

Larewen sneered coolly at Ohan as he made for his departure. "I have plenty to offer, but wasting it on that one would be pointless," she said, fingers curling around Latu's. "I was but a toy to him, and he failed to see the potentials that others did. My prowess is paying off, as it should be. I would still be a valuable ally, even more so than before."

Latulepi continues to trace the man's movements closely with an absent, lifeless orbs, but even in this focus. She opens her mouth again. "Aall..lly."

Ohan stopped only to say one last statement. "If you wish to be an ally, your audience will be granted." With that, Ohan sought to make his final exit - there was still more to be done.

Larewen craned her chin upward in lieu of the half-elf's words. "And if that is a discussion I'm willing to have, where can I find him? These are matters best handled directly."

Ohan was already vanished by the time Larewen finished her question. While the half elf left, Gheneroc's eyes were still upon Larewen. A man, one she had not met before slowly approached. "He has taken residence in Craughmoyle. Ask the dwarves when you arrive." The begger then turned to walk away. He too wore Gheneroc's Chain.

Larewen watched as Ohan disappeared from sight, nostrils flaring as the old man garnered her attention. Her head lifted in lieu of his words. "As I thought," she remarked, not failing to take notice of the Chain that also marred his flesh. Her gloved fingers rose to her own throat, where her own had once been, her sneer faltering. To Latulepi, she commanded softly, "Return to our home in the Dark Forest, and be wary of the things that might eat you. I must travel to Craughmoyle."

Craughmoyle

Gheneroc had carved out a space large enough to dwarf his previous cavern. Gold and jewels adorned Gheneroc's cave as tributes from many of the dwarves that lived under his care. The space was very heavily guarded and there wasn't a single person that did not bear Gheneroc's mark. Some of them were young, others were old, but most of them were dwarves. Gheneroc had started his plan, one that had brought Craughmoyle closer to his favor. The dragon rest at the far edge of the cave, listening to the plights of his followers, and to recruit new members into the fold. From soldiers to beggars, Gheneroc turned none away. The dragon had built up quite a reputation, especially after he recovered Brohmir's Hammer - one of the original dwarves to walk the land of Hollow.

Larewen was not so welcome a presence, this deep beneath ground. Having wrested herself away from Gheneroc's reach, the elf was not much different from a traitor. She had turned on him; she had cut her loyalties, just as he had foreseen. Her presence made itself known in the click of heeled boots and the taste of dark, necromantic magic upon the air as she turned into the cavern that now housed the stone dragon. There was also the smell of death, heavy perhaps given her recent nearness to a stitched corpse that doubled as a child to the necromancer. Dark eyes roamed over the dwarves that were present, taking note of their marks. His reach was spreading indeed. It seemed that for this meeting, the elf had forgone her hat and veil, for those bistre colored tresses were let down, with the wavy lengths pulled over her left shoulder. She waited with a bored patience for the dragon to acknowledge her.

Gheneroc finally spotted Larewen. Or maybe he pretended to. After all, with the dragon's awareness spread so far, he could have tracked her the moment she entered Craughmoyle. The mighty stone dragon's eyes locked on the elven vampire. None held a particularly ill will for Larewen, but they weren't exactly the most welcoming bunch. "You wish to discuss an alliance?" The dragon asked carefully.

Larewen responded with a raise of her shoulders, fully aware that Gheneroc knew she was there long before he chose to acknowledge her. "Perhaps, if that is what comes of it," she replied, the words rolling off her tongue hauntingly. "I suppose it would be too much to ask for your ears alone? I don't feel that our discussion needs to be part of the hive mind." The necromancer stared coldly at the dragon, and there was no affection at all to mar her expression.

Gheneroc grumbled. "No, Larewen. Our discussion will not be exclusive. Bear in mind you are within my court. I expect you to speak as such." The dwarven guards looked a little more on guard with Gheneroc's warning - as it usually spelled trouble. Like Larewen, Gheneroc's own tones and expressions were void of most emotion. Perhaps he had moved on from their days in the stolen cave.

Larewen responded with an upward turn of her lips and a glint of fang, her chin lifting faintly. "Is that so?" she replied, the notes of her voice revealing a faint vexation. One foot turned, prepared to swing her around and announce her departure. "Then it seems there is no discussion to be had, Gheneroc." Upon speaking the syllables of his name, her tone shifted faintly. There was a hint of anger, and even more strangely, the hurt of betrayal. An ironic emotion for the necromancer indeed, given their history.

Gheneroc picked up on the tones, but made nothing of it. The dragon watched, partly wondering what was so important that she could not speak publicly. "Perhaps another time." The dragon stated. There would be no isolation within the expansive cavern and the amount of people that inhabited Gheneroc's ever growing ward.

Larewen chuckled dryly. "Or perhaps not. There are no matters to discuss, when you cannot afford the simple respect of privacy, Gheneroc," she said, her voice careful. "I will simply assume that you are uncomfortable speaking with me alone, for whatever reason that is." She extended a hand forward, arm sweeping over the present dwarves. "Your drones seem to suffice, well enough."

Gheneroc grumbled back with indifference. "You are not special, Larewen. All are seen by all eyes of the court." He knew she was trying to goad him into submitting - to take her into private space for whatever reasons she had.

Larewen spoke with confidence when she retorted, and it could be seen in the flash of her eyes. "I doubt that, but all is well, Gheneroc. It appears that breaking my ties to you served us both well, for I simply would not be able to suffer the presence of your court upon every meeting." Yes, the elf was trying to goad the stone dragon. She knew quite well that, had she remained under his influence and bound to him, a private audience would come easily enough upon request. "There are personal matters I wished to discuss as well, so when you decide it is not necessary for your court to know everything that I have learned since parting way with you, then perhaps we might chance a little chat."

Gheneroc narrowed his eyes. "I was under the impression you wished to discuss the terms of alliance. Speak plainly, Larewen what is your intent?"

Larewen turned back toward him, mostly to ease the discomfort of that awkward twist of her head to peer over her shoulder. "And that I do, but there are other things, too. Things more private than an alliance. Things that," she paused, perhaps for emphasis, "clearly still bother you. It seems I have become a thorn between your plates, Gheneroc." Her lips curled upward again. "My intent is to clear some rather stale air, and I'm not of the mindset to do that in front of others."

Gheneroc shifted slightly. He stated now with finality. "Another time, Larewen."