RP:A Title Renounced, A Challenge Willingly Accepted

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

The Masters' Library

Svilfon is sitting in the library, lazily reading a book which was, hours before, covered in nearly an inch of dust; its faux-cover formed after many years resting unread upon various shelves. In truth, the wizard isn't really even taking in what is written in the ancient text, instead his mind wanders through the implications of various things he has going at the moment, various plans for which he knows soon must be complete. So with much on his mind, the wizard rests in this room, wearing his dark robes and hat, as always, and sporting a magnificent beard. He was content enough, for now, to wait for the others after receiving Rheven's note, unless something urgent recalled him to Frostmaw. Otherwise, he'll remain here until the meeting requested by the archmage.

Tiphareth paces down the long stairway, taking in the always wondrous sight. The presence of Svilfon is felt, so much as seen; offering the wizard a nod from behind the typical garb that graces Tiphareth's features. Gliding steps carry him further into the keep, coming to rest at a desk some ten feet from Svilfon. No words are yet exchanged as he begins removing his helm and veil, somewhat confident neither Rheven or the wizard had any intention of utilizing illusion or psionics on this occasion. Taking a seat, the Eldermage opens up a book that had already been out upon the table, scanning over its pages to pass the time until the meeting's commencement.

Rheven is the last to arrive, moving down the spiraling staircase at a measured pace. He's garbed in his usual red and silver robes, entirely silent until he sets foot upon the floor; unlike the others, he elects not to take a seat. Clearing his throat, the archmage crosses either of those robed arms against his chest. "Gentlemen. I shall be concise; my tenure at the head of the mage guild has been long, but my desire for station and power has dwindled. No longer do I consider myself the best candidate to lead the study of the arcane in this realm. I have called you here," His eyes flicker between the wizard and the lichdrow, "because you two are the most qualified candidates to succeed me. As you know, only one person may hold the position of archmage...so this is a matter to be resolved." A smirk slowly slides its way onto his lips, noticably less pallid now that he no longer harbos the vampiric curse. "The two of you will duel for the right to be the next archmage at a location of my choosing. This is my sole method for determing a succesor between the two of you; should one of you decline, the other will be named archmage immediately. Do either of you have objections?" He waits silently now, keeping both of them in his sights.

Svilfon had silently lifted his gaze to Tiphareth for just long enough to return the nod with one of his own, before his pale eyes return to his book. But such is not the case when Rheven enters the wondrous Masters' Library. The wizard looks at him intently for a long moment, taking in what changes he can see in the archmage, before listening to the words he speaks. The man does not waste much time, but Svilfon can understand this... it seems he has forsaken his immortality... the wizard would also probably be in a rush if once again the icy hand of time steered him ever closer to the eternal embrace of death. When the former archmage asks his final question, the wizard is first to speak. He tips his hat to Rheven, disguising in part the crooked smile which appears on his beard-hidden lips, before he answers. "You have and are giving up a great deal, former king of Venturil." There is an ambiguous tone to that particular title, though in general the wizard's demeanor does seem respectful. "But I have no objections." For the briefest moment the vampire's gaze shifts to Tiphareth, before returning to Rheven. "Had I not been victorious last time we battled, I would not contest the Sublime Master taking this title. But our last battle gave me this right, and so I accept."

Tiphareth did not attempt to hide the wry smile which creeps across his sharp features. He had awaited this time for some years, and it was finally within his grasp. Never having been one to turn down a challenge, the Lichdrow nods deeply, "Gladly I will duel the Magister Templi prior to taking the Archmage position." His words were cocky, though the demeanor was matter of fact, and not the least snide; rather implying he felt that after performing many of the leadership duties 'in loco parentis' as it were nearly since his introduction to the Guild, he was the rightful heir. "I do have a few questions; where will this battle take place, will there be any unique rules or regulations to the duel... and most importantly; what will be your role upon resolution of this matter. Will you take on another position within the Guild or leave our ranks entirely?"

Rheven waits until both are done speaking to do so himself, giving a firm nod. "Indeed, wizard, I have. I've good reasons for doing so, at least in my mind, but that is a conversation for another time..." His focus swivels to Tiphareth now, addressing his inquiries swiftly. "I've a venue in mind that I will reveal soon...though I know neither of you would fret, allow me to reassure that it allows no specific advantage to either of you. There will be no special rules and I expect you both to show the full extent of your abilities. Of course, I hope that the winner will not outright kill the loser in the process, but do not hold back on account of that." Not that he would expect such anyway. "As to my station after the duel is completed...I will leave the guild. My entire life will still be dedicated to exploring and testing the limits of the arcane, but my time within the guild will draw to a close. I will not accept any sort of 'honorary' role, such is useless...after I assign the winner to the head of the guild, I will surrender my magely possessions - outside of those unique to me as an individual - to the Tower."

Svilfon does not respond to Tiphareth's words, beyond a small smile once again twisting up the corners of his lips. He knew this path was set in stone the moment he awoke in Frostmaw after the last time; he was prepared to fight Tiphareth again, or as prepared as anyone can be against the powerful, venerable lichdrow. After listening to the pertinent questions and rather startling answers, the wizard speaks again. "I trust you have your reasons, Lord Rheven. I trust they are wise." That said, Svil tips his hat before speaking again. "As for where, I care not. As for assurance we will not hold back..." The wizard's eyes glint with a predatory light. "You need not worry on that regard, Rheven." Svil pauses for a moment, before finally saying, "Your rule of the Guild has been good, Rheven, at least during my time here it has been. Regardless of who takes the title you renounce this day, rest assured if ever you shall return to our ranks in any capacity, a Guild as strong as the one you left will be here." A final nod is given then, before again Svil falls silent.

Tiphareth merely nods as Rheven and Svilfon speak, before he finally responds, "I never hold back in battle as you both well know, and though I think it rather unlikely that I'll die in any meaninful capacity, it may be wise, however; for you Svilfon to get your affairs in order prior to our duel. Not that I have any intention of trying to ensure your demise, but it's certainly a possibility. I will await your decision for a venue Rheven, and prepare myself for the ensuing battle... Is that all you wished to discuss, or will any further issues be reserved for the victor of the battle?" The Eldermage suddenly stops to realize that his may be the first time these three powerful mages have been in the same room at once, and such a pity it was under these circumstances; they could accomplish nearly any goal to which they were united.

Svilfon responds first to Rheven. "Fare yourself well then, Lord Rheven. Until we meet again." The wizard offers half a bow to the departing former head of the Guild, before he snaps his gaze at last to regard Tiphareth fully. "Worry not about my affairs, Lord of Trist'Oth. But rest assured this time I'll try to be more careful; wouldn't want the tombs of your homeland losing another cold body from its stony embrace, would we?" The wizard grins, then, removing some of the malice from his words, though never quite does the smile touch his pale eyes. "When you are ready, so too shall I be. As with the last, there is no malice in this battle, Sublime Master. But our Guild must be strong, and in this way we ensure it remains such. If I do defeat you, it is my wish you remain in your current position. If I am defeated, I would wish to remain within the Guild." The wizard offers the same half bow to Tiphareth that he did Rheven. "But I suppose in time we shall see."

Tiphareth turns square toward Svilfon, not responding to the wizards last prod, but rather offering a deeper insight into their coming battle. "Regardless of who wins, I would like for us both to vow on this date that the winner will fervently seek out the Aeturnus Ipsissimus, the Archmage can not afford to become complacent... something we discussed at length upon your joining this Guild. Stagnant power is useless to our Guild, and can not be abided."

Svilfon offers Tiphareth a crooked grin, "Though, accepting I am that my ambitions are not always like other peoples' are, on my word, Tiphareth, I will not stop seeking the limits of arcane power. I remember well our early lessons, Sublime Master. Fondly, too. I will not allow this Guild to grow weak, just as I am sure you will not." The wizard's gaze remains on the lichdrow, his expression clearly showing he has no intention of shifting it until Tiphareth speaks words similar; not that he doubted the drow, of course.

Tiphareth is stoic in his response, ever serious about matters related to the Guild's power, "The Aeternus rank is what separates us from the rank and file mages that trod about, attempting to be "masters". It is not only my goal, but should be the goal of all those who join. On my word as a Drow, a Lich, and a worshipper of the God's Xalious and Vakmatharas, should I attain the Archmage title, I shall ever endeavor to stretch the very limits of arcane potential on this plane."

Svilfon nods his head and offers a final, respectful bow to the lichdrow before him. "I shall leave you to your preparations, then. When Rheven calls, I shall be ready." The wizard waves his hand at the book he was reading, and it lifts up and floats languidly upon the air back to the dust-free outline it left on its shelf. "Fare yourself well, Lord D'Artes. And prepare well. It would not be wise for either of us to disappoint the other." The wizard tips his hat with a wink, before heading towards the exit of the library. His final words were true, though redundantly spoken - both knew the stakes, and both understand the severity of this coming confrontation... in truth, the wizard cannot wait.

Tiphareth quietly gathers up his belongings, leaving the book upon the desk where it sat; it wasn't as if someone were going to disturb it. Without a warning, the Eldermage simply disappears from view.