RP:Alibi

From HollowWiki

Part of the Surface Tension Arc


Synopsis: Daath invites Gevurah to meet with him at the Hanging Corpse Tavern in Vailkrin to discuss current events. During their meeting, Daath offers support for Gevurah's efforts on the surface, pledges soldiers to the cause, and offers her a gift forged by duergars and enchanted by the Master Necromancer himself: a seven snake-headed whip, venomous and perfect for the discerning drowess. During the exchange, Izzerin, the D'Artes Chamberlain interrupts the meeting and informs Gevurah and Daath that there has been an attack at Trist'oth Arena. The attack interrupts the meeting and both nobles depart to deal with the crisis surely taking hold of their respective houses.


Hanging Corpse Tavern

Letter from Daath to Gevurah: From the shadows an imp appears, in its hand a letter. Gevurah,

Our last meeting was interrupted. I'd like to discuss matters of current events in a different setting, so your presence is requested in Vailkrin, at my place of business, The Hanging Corpse Tavern.

Watch out for the imp, he likes to steal.

Daath


Gevurah hasn’t been to Vailkrin in at least a decade. The D’Artes daughter doesn’t have much dealings with the undead, and she doesn’t drink without the excuse of business. She arrives in the city of the dead with an entourage and the grandiose display of wealth and power emblematic to Trist’oth nobility — a display which Daath has perhaps grown a distaste for, but which suits Gevurah just fine. She rides astride her giant spider, Halbyrn, at the center of a pentacle formation completed by five rogues mounted of traditional deep lizards. She leaves Halbyrn and four of the soldiers outside the tavern. The lead rogue sweeps the tavern, and his silence is Gevurah’s signal to enter. No one follows her. She dresses surprisingly modestly by drow women’s standards. A full skirt with a small bustle echoes the silhouette of a spider. A tight corset suggests her figure without exposing much skin, aside from modest cleavage. She looks like she stepped out of a drow painting from a millennia ago, not from present day Trist’oth. In the dim light her eyes glow faintly in search of Daath.


Daath has indeed a distaste for the displays of power drow houses like to show off, but not because he dislikes the concept, but because Trist'Oth is lost in a blinding hubris. The decades spent upon the surface studying the arcane arts has taken him all across Lithrydel, and beyond. From the kingdom of War and Ice known as Frostmaw, where giants fight dragons and various other creatures of terrible power in hopes of pleasing Aramoth, God of War, to Cenril, home of two seperate powerful entities, The Church of Cenril, and the Crime Families, whose influence changes much across the area, to finally different realms of existence all together. From the depths of the Obsidian Pool, where your wildest dreams become a reality, at a terrible price, to the home planes of creatures of unimaginable power, where endless wars are raged between creatures both foul and divine in nature, this dark elf has seen what true power is. So as Gevurah enters this tavern, the one he now runs, in the city of the dead, in which he is a political powerhouse, and holds sway over many, he finds her display lacking. But, on that same thought, he doesn't care to measure their respective influence and standing, he has business with the woman. The magister can be found sitting at his usual table by the rather unique firepit. Dressed in a slender, and form fitting, suit made from the finest of materials, with black diamond cuffs, the drow looks nothing like what he usually does. He has two different lives you see. One, the Magister Templi, and current Headmaster of the Necromancer's Guild, has him in a robe with a staff, usually studying an ancient spellbook so he can further his own knowledge and reach levels higher than ever before. The second, is what you see. The businessman, and the political figure in the City of the Damned. The Hanging Corpse Tavern is a keystone business in this forsaken kingdom. The vampire families live in houses almost similar to that of the drow, and because of such like minded political quarrels, Daath was able to manipulate a few into furthering his own agenda, while his command over the undead, being a master necromancer, aided his cause in gaining powerful political allies in his bid to garner a different kind of power within the current standing government. Its been a slow process, but day by day he becomes a more powerful figure in Vailkrin society, and because of that, within the Hanging Corpse, Daath isn't afraid to host a drow female of an opposing house. Gevurah is seen as she enters, and she will find she was expected, when Sonya, garbed in a fine silken dress, with jewelry complimenting her slender form very well, welcomes her personally. " Welcome, Mistress Gevurah, if you will follow me." The woman moves with an otherwordly grace. Every step sending her hips moving in a way that causes more than a few heads to turn. Her dress has an exposed back, and it hugs the form well, allowing her to display enough, while still teasing that there is more to discover. Even her mere presence is enthralling, as the longer one looks upon the woman, the more they see what they desire. Long flowing locks of raven hair fall down to her shoulders to touch her smooth ivory flesh. Rose painted lips curl into a charming smile for a few as she passes, before her eyes, a brilliant shade of golden brown that seem to glow brightly in the tavern's lighting, catch a few patrons within their enthralling gaze, to only be released moments later as she passes by. Such a beauty is rare, and her race seems hard to define, which only adds mystery to her already overwhelming aura of seduction. Its why Daath keeps her close, and uses her as an assistant in many meetings. Tonight she plays hostess, for while this meeting unfolds between the two drow, a celebration is underway for one of Daath's political allies who has just won a key role in the city. Once by his table, Daath turns to Gevurah and says. "Please, sit."


Gevurah tries her best to avert her gaze from Sonya, but finds that it returns like a moth to flame again and again. She is glad to rest her attention on Daath, if only because his countenance is much more tolerable to behold. A sweeping gaze appraises his attire. The priestess does well to maintain a neutral expression. A traditionalist, she doesn’t have much taste for surface clothes, but to each their own. Before sitting she must gather her skirt and bustle and arrange it just so, the delay affording her an opportunity to silently recall a prepared spell to detect any magic or traps in the seat and surrounding area. The bustle proves both fashionable and functional. Finding nothing, as she had expected and hoped, she sits. “I am not too proud to admit surprise at your invitation. Tell me what mutual interest brings us here today.”


Daath holds a glass of imported Rynvallian wine in his left hand, and rolls the vintage drink around in the glass as he says. " I'd imagine so, given how very out of the ordinary things have become over the last few years. Matrons falling. Patrons rising. War with our cousins, taking the forest." A sip of his wine is taken, before he rests the glass on top of the table and leans back in his chair, looking at the female drow across from him, studying her. " Just look at you. I swear if I had to open a history book on our culture, I'd see your image there, yet you're relatively young for our race.." Its been decades since he has been a true part of his house. Life in Trist'Oth seems to be trapped in time,stuck, never to change. " Either way, you look wonderful, and I trust the trip up wasn't too bad?" Trying to keep idle chit chat going, Daath nods to Sonya, who ventures off at the command, while the magister says to Gevurah. " But, it seems you have a wood elf problem, or the beginnings of one. So, seeing as last we spoke on the matter, Matron Laezila wanted to bark her opinion all about and ruined my mood for company among kin. I'd like to inform you that I applaud your actions, and while I may have guild business with surface dwellers, I would like nothing more than to watch you bury our cousins in another crippling defeat, much like we did we I fought alongside your patron, Tiphareth, when we first took Sage." His wineglass is taken up once more, and another sip taken of the flavorful contents.


Gevurah grins briefly at Daath’s recognition of her time-warped fashion sense. Her father’s death during the early years of her childhood left a hole which was filled by the cold, reserved, and ancient Tiphareth. Gevurah represents in some ways a merger of the two patrons. She is a spitting image of her father, but her behavior has been clearly influenced by Tiphareth. “Yes, I made the trip in darkness, which is refreshing after spending weeks under the glare of that damn sun.” Daath’s dislike for Laezila causes Gevurah to blink away, assume a neutral mask, then regard him again. The Matron has been quite generous with Gevurah, and the First and Second houses have grown closer, but the bond is subtle and tenuous and not well known. “I am glad to hear you support our race’s rightful claim on the surface. I would be remiss not to mention that I had hope to hear that House D’Jiv’undus was prepared to lend some soldiers to the effort. The fort flies the colors of most houses, and the absence of the Third House is a notable one.”


Daath does indeed have a dislike for the second house, mainly due to the perversion of the drow under its banner. While undead warriors bolster the ranks of the D'Jiv'Undus army, the house still maintains a healthy number of living drow, and the family itself is of course of pure blood. Tainting the race by breeding with other races, like lycans, orcs and the like while allowing vampires to sire thralls is a disgusting disgrace to behold, even by Daath's relaxed standards. But such matters are for another time, for now the magus replies with. "It truth, my...beloved, mother has been neutral on the subject, viewing our involvement in the last war as a reason to allow another house to step up. " The thought of such a notion almost makes the necromancer laugh, but Daath is far too reserved for that. "But, in her hesitation I have taken action. You will find a number of soldiers, both undead and drow, alongside various creatures now waiting at the fort, and of course at the First House's command." Allowing that to sink in a moment, the magister continues with. "I myself, have duties that require my attention, but.." At this moment Sonya returns, a package in her hand, the likes of which are placed before Gevurah. "In light of recent events, I thought it fitting to offer a gift." Daath watches the female dark elf, as he says. " To aid you in your quest."


Gevurah would agree with Daath’s unspoken distaste for drow perversion. It’s disgusting, though given her own father’s romantic habits on the surface she refrains from such discussions. Besides, vampire soldiers are useful in a war. When Daath mentions his matron’s gracious withdrawal for the sake of another house’s gain, Gevurah snickers into the back of her hand. ‘Sure’ her gleaming eyes say, ‘I’ll pretend to believe this lie.’ She clears her throat to pretend she didn’t just laugh, stroking her neck as if to suggest it was just a tickle. When Daath reveals the soldiers, Gevurah nods her head in earnest gratitude. “I see your support is sincere and commend your wisdom.” As Sonya returns, Gevurah locks her stare with Daath’s to avoid looking at the eerily beautiful servant. It’s difficult when Sonya’s arm and hair sweeps through Gevurah’s periphery, but her focus proves true. “How thoughtful.” The earlier spell still in effect, her enchanted stare scans the package. Detecting no trap, she opens the gift.


Daath watches as she opens the box. Gevurah will find a weapon waiting for her that only female drow can truly appreciate. A whip. But hoping she isn't a fool, and knows that if he is giving it to her, it is not as simple as a common whip. " Forged by master duergar smiths out of dark mithril, and reinforced with adamantite, you will find that I was able to enchant it to respond as well as when the priestesses were in power, before the temple was sealed and the Spider Queen's power waned. " If Gevurah is to touch the weapon, she will find it comes alive. Seven heads are on the whip, whose handle is thirteen inches long, but ends in a spike whose point is more than lethal. Each of the heads slithers about, until the ends of each end show themselves. Snakes. Vipers to be exact, all slither about at her touch in a loving manner. "They obey only you. And their bite can either cause extreme pain, immobility or death, depending on the number of heads to bite at one time." Looking it over, Daath adds. " As well, if you press in this piece." Points to a small button on the side of the handle. "it will release a the spike at the end, which can prove useful in capable hands" Once more the glass of wine is brought up to his lips, as he waits for her reaction to the snake headed whip.


Gevurah‘s brows lift in pleased astonishment. “It’s exquisite.” Gingerly she lifts the whip and watches the seven snakes flick their tongues across her ebon skin, learning their master’s scent and taste. Each boasts its own unique coloring: deep green, black, silver, blood red, plum wine, bronze, and midnight blue. The mithril and adamantite handle is perfectly weighted in her hand. The button faithfully produces a spike. “The craftmanship, both physical and magical, is remarkable. It certainly speaks to your mastery of your craft, Daath. I will be sure to thank you for this by putting it to the best use.” She searches the nearby servants for a slave. “Do you mind loaning me a subject to test it on? I simply can’t wait until-” Suddenly a D’Artes servant barrels into the tavern and cuts off the priestess’s speech.

Enter Izzerin, a de facto commoner and chamberlain of House D’Artes, but his elevated status in the esteem of the house nobles and function as a political spy is an open secret among the Trist’oth elite. He interrupts Gevurah and Daath’s meeting with force, charging to within a meter of the High Priestess, a bold act which normally begets corporal punishment or worse, but Gevurah simply glares. “It better be important, Izzerin, or you should pray I stay my hand before it’s the last thing you ever see!” Her hand twitches above the newly gifted whip. Izzerin bows even lower and hesitates before answering in the presence of Daath. However, the D'Jiv'undus noble will surely discover the same news soon, likely within the next few minutes, and so Izzerin reports in drow, “There has been an attack in Trist’oth, mistress, at the arena during the rugby game. Every drow in the stands and in the court has perished.” Gevurah’s eyes widen in surprise. It’s been years since the last mass attack in Trist’oth; since, as a matter of fact, the civil war Gevurah’s own father began. “Who?” she demands. Izzerin’s tosses a cautionary glance towards Daath and says nothing. Impulsively Gevurah interprets Izzerin’s glance to mean that Daath’s house staged the attack. She rises to her feet and regards him with a steely, critical look. She doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the D’Artes are a paranoid, jumpy lot. If Izzerin does suggest the Third House staged the attack, could that mean that he invited her here as a diversion? But surely distracting just one house isn’t enough for such a bold attack. And to exclude the House Mage from a coup? That’s senseless. Unless the Third House isn’t acting alone, in which case it would be working in concert. But with who? The Second House is the only candidate, because the Fourth and Fifth are the ones currently engaged in the arena, but could he so expertly have faked his dislike for that Matron? Unless… and so on. All of this Gevurah’s political mind analyzes in seconds. Her natural gift is in politics. She may not be as well traveled as Daath, but she knows every hidden path in Trist’oth, every tenuous and covert relationship, every scandal, every gilted courtesan and illegitimately got son. A combination of their specialties would prove quite unstoppable, but such a merger seems unlikely in this fleeting moment in which Gevurah distrusts him fully, even as she holds his gift in her hands. She says nothing to let Daath’s first move reveal his truth.


Daath's eyes stayed locked upon the female as she looks over his gift, and truly its craftsmanship was impeccable. The Druegar, or dark dwarves as they are more commonly known, were just as talented as their kin, the dwarves of Craugmoyle. But while the druegar forged the whip from the ore provided by House D'Jiv'Undus, Daath was the one who placed the enchantments upon it personally. Two nights it took, carefully etching runes upon the smooth metal's surface, careful not to harm the spider designs engraved upon the handle, before he whispered words of power that give the weapon a sentient life. The snakes slither and move at Gevurah's touch, and her touch alone. And upon inspection of his work, the magus is pleased to see she likes the offering. But it would seem fate dislikes this pair ever meeting on any kind of common ground, for as Gevurah's man comes in and informs them of the attack, the flames within the goblin faced firepit roar with incredible ferocity, before emerging from the now pale greenish flames comes a rather unique looking drow male. With a buzz cut hairstyle in place of the long mane most males use, and several piercings upon his face, from his left eyebrow, his left nostril and the left side of his lip, it comes down to his garb that seems the most unusual, even to Daath. Tyre is a rogue, and unlike most houseless slaves that fall under the banners of more powerful houses, this rogue has stayed aloof, yet continues to show himself at decisive moments, if the coin is good enough. Wearing healed boots that click loudly against the tavern's floor, leggings that sport overly large pockets on each leg, a belt with a large buckle with an exotic symbol and an assortment of chains hanging down off of it, while sporting an open tan trench coat, revealing his toned and muscular body beneath, Tyre is indeed an oddity to most. Noise is made with every move he makes, be it the heels of his boots hitting the floor, the various chains hanging from his belt clanking and rattling or the rather aloof attitude he has at the moment, for a drow everything about him seems wrong. Gevurah may not recognize him, but Tyre has a history with House D'Artes, as in combat he killed Keter's son, Khamahl. Of course, the foolish young D'Artes wished to prove himself against the rogue, and even more so the pay was quite sizeable for one of Keter's ilk, due to the ranger's fight with the Matrons before their inevitable fall from power. Over time the houseless rogue has made his rounds, making a profit where he can. And this is how he has come to work for Daath, who employs Tyre's skills in the underdark while his own business upon the surface continues. And as such, the magister determines this is the reason for his visit at this particular time. Looking about, and smirking at Gevurah, the rogue says aloud. " Your mother wishes her sons presence. There has been-" Daath raises his hand, successfully cutting the rogue's report short as he takes a moment to himself. A look at Gevurah gives him a good idea about whats running through her mind, and truth be told the same was going through his own. He knows his house had no plans for an attack, and his matron would be foolish to try to do so without him present, as the bulk of his house's power is tied to him. And such a brazen move done in public! With numerous witnesses, it was basically suicide! This puzzling situation causes the brilliant mind of the magister to work in overtime. Tyre stands there, looking rather annoyed, but never the less casting winks at a few women nearby. It is here that the magister of necromancy weighs his options. Even though he is composed in most cases, the severity of this event has even him somewhat in shock. And if his matron decided to send Tyre here to fetch him, it means she will not take no for an answer this time. Usually left to his own devices, Daath enjoys his freedom away from the confines of his House. Yet, in light of these events, it seems wise to return to the underdark and investigate, as well as possibly defend, his holdings in the drow capital city. Catching the fact he may have let more than needed be conveyed in his expressions, the headmaster of the necromancer's guild collects himself once more, before turning to Gevurah, ignoring her messenger, and saying. "It seems we are destined to be interrupted at all times in our dealings, but as you can see we have a prudent matter to investigate, and we are both needed elsewhere." Rising from his seat, he looks to Sonya and says. "Finish up here, ensure our guests have the time of their lives, and ensure we get what we want out of the exchange." The woman nods, knowing well what he speaks of, and goes back to the group of high class guests to act as liaison in Daath's stead. Tyre, seeing that he won't have to bring the eldest D'Jiv'Undus son back by force, finishes talking to one of the barmaids and says. "Right, lets get going then." Shooting the rogue a foul look, Daath follows him into the firepit, to which the flames rises once more, and the very goblin shaped foundation opens wide to allow the pair to enter with enough room to stand comfortably. A brilliant flash of pale green light cast by the magical flames illuminates the area in such a manner that most have to shield their eyes, and once it dies down, the pair are gone and the firepit returns to normal, leaving only wisps of smoke in their wake.


Gevurah had never met Tyre before in person, but his unique fashion sense and personal expression quickly arouse her suspicions. Could this be the same who was rumored to have killed Khamal? The unique description certainly fits, but the Daughter stays her hand before jumping to conclusions. Knowing he is in the coin of House D’Jiv’undus is enough to make him slightly easier to find should her investigation land him on the extensive D’Artes enemy list. But that investigation comes second to the attack on hand. Gevurah’s studies Daath’s expression and is comforted by his evident shock. No, bringing her here was not to distract her from an attack in Trist’oth. He was just as clueless as she, and rarely are either of them ever taken by surprise. His reaction does not abdicate his Matron, but she knows the real power of House D’Jiv’undus lies with Daath and so any machinations of the Matron would be seen, ironically, as a rogue move within their house. Before Daath enters the firepit Gevurah calls out in drow, “Remember that I am as shocked as you. I’ll be in touch.” She turns to leave as quickly as Izzerin came. The Chamberlain is already updating her on the D’Artes’s machine’s instinctive move. The First Patron is being informed as they speak. The estate is on lock down. Rogues have been sent in pursuit of the attackers. And once they are alone the fina blow lands: the attacker was disguised convincingly as Gevurah herself.