RP:Cold as the Gravewyrm
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
Background
Valentin introduces his old tutor Artritus Vox to Guildmistress Tenebrae in the cold comfort of his necromantic workspace.
While Tenebrae is comfortable with her own pets being creepy and weird, Valentin's pet gravewyrms receive no love.
Inscrutable are the ways of wizards and necromancers
Introductions
The shop front is surprisingly clean and cold - the chill seeming to emanate from the stones of the floor. Its counters are separated into two sections, and there is a sturdy metallic door at the back which appears to have no lock or handle of any kind.
The first set of counters are lined with meats of all kinds and cuts: the usual lamb, beef, veal, venison in chops, steaks, and racks of ribs. Offal and tripe may also be purchased.
The second set of counters holds cured products: Bacon, Hams, Pâtés, Galantines and Sausages of all varieties - some of the latter which are not recognisable even to a sausage connoisseur. 'Valentin's Mystery Sausage' has been a solid seller over the years for its rich flavour and subtle hint of pork.
Valentin had, for the first time in quite a while, popped into his shop only to find his window vandalised by some local scamps with a rather disturbing and improbable rendition of himself with an impressive bosom. It was, Valentin thought, Cenril's way of saying 'Please use my children to fuel your dark rituals and pad out the meat fillings for your sausages'. Which was, all in all, a mighty kind invitation that Valentin would undoubtedly avail himself of sometime soon. In the meanwhile, he was engaged in the comfortingly familiar chores of wiping down windows and benches. The shopsign still said 'Closed', but the bulky form of the butcher was impossible to miss.
Artritus folded the note and slid it into a breast pocket as he came to a stop outside the butcher shop with a unmistakable and large figure milling about inside. However, Vox didn't step in straight away but took a moment to study the exterior of the shop itself. Whatever conclusion he came to, it made the necromancer shake his head as he walked up to the door and knocked. A gesture some might not have thought of. And one Valentin may in fact disregard. But some habits. Until such a time where the door was opened, the thin man would stand leaning back, staring upwards, squinting his eyes at the sky with his hands firmly gripping his belt. Butcher shop. Of course it was. Maybe he should call him bill, too. The Vampire never quite liked Valentin, as he recalled.
Valentin turned his head at the knock, and tromps over to open the door "Wotcher guv. Come on in. Shadows whisper t'me that th'Mistress is on 'er way here, so y'timin's as impeccable as always. Once she's here we'll head on down t'me workspace. But for now, I'll jus' keep rattlin' round cleanin' things while we natter away. Read anythin' interestin' o'late? An' I don't mean th'naughty books, neither." To Valentin's knowledge, he'd never seen the old necromancer with erotica, only esoterica, but he invariably made some mention to the aforementioned effect anyway. "I've been brushin' up on some o'Halkoric's works on re-animation for th'Prentices." Halkoric, a fusty man in life, and worse in undeath, had believed quantity -was- quality where wordcounts counted. However, Halkoric's principles were sound, and his ritual circles more easily tinkered with than Artemesius' works. The story of his final death was certainly more fascinating to Valentin, though, by way of a moral lesson to the Novus Morior the butcher was teaching.
Artritus stepped in past the large man once he'd been given the chance, hands grasping at the edges of his jacket as to ensure he didn't get stuck in the door. He didn't have much chance to return the greeting. And hadn't expected it either. Bill, he'd decided to mentally call him bill. It fit him much better, had never been one for formality when it wasn't forced upon him. Instead, he padded around the store silently listening, a hand with thin spindly fingers gently squeezing the edge of his spectacles and rising them up along his sharp nose. He ran the same hand trough his lustrous red hair as he turned towards Bill with a slight smile. "Halkoric? Ah yes... Mass reanimation. Sadly rather blind to the prospect of balanced results. But it is suitable for apprentices, that much is fine judgment." he buzzed in a monotone, sliding his hands down the sleeves of their opposite arms as said arms crossed themselves over his midsection. "You make a better student of the dark arts when studying voluntarily, I see."
There was a knock on that recently un-grafitto'd glass window. The rap was insistent, and caused by a dark-woman of unimpressive stature, wearing only a pair of high heeled boots and a black man's shirt, her green eyes intent on those within the store's confines as she offered the occupants a little wave.
Valentin grumbles when, soon after letting Artritus Vox in, the previously hinted at Mistress arrives. As he heads to the door to open it, he comments. "It's easier t'learn things when y'don't have some twisted banker's sorcerous fingers wrapped around th'contents o'your mind t'keep you from rippin' his teeth out, innit." A comment which aptly summed up the psionic locks and commands Valentin's sire had inflicted upon him to ensure his 'experiment' didn't act inconveniently. The butcher opens the door "Evenin' Domina. Have y'met me old tutor, Vox?" Valentin jerks a thumb at Vox "Vox, meet Tenebrae, an' vice versa. She's the esteemed an' not at all harpyish Mistress o'the Necromancer's Guild. Jus' ignore all them rumours goin' round." As always, Valentin's face could have been carved out of granite "Domina, I take it you've come t'take a gander at m'workspace, aye?"
Tenebrae 's face wore a spiteful expression as she entered the store, narrow and green eyes on Valentin, but all that vanished when she beamed a sharp-toothed smile at Artritus. "Pleasure to meet you. Pardon this .. " she looked down at the shirt. "Had a little trouble with the locals. Oh.." here, she glanced to Valentin. "My armour'll be along any minute. New design. Not terribly efficient."
Artritus let his hands escape their confines within his sleeves as Bill shuffled over to open the door. Cold gray eyes fell on the new visitor trough the lenses of his spectacles as the door opened. "Artritus Phineas Vox. Charmed" he greeted, not sounding quite as charmed as he said he was. Though he did do something in between a nod and a barely-bothering-to-bow movement. It was a balance. Not disrespectful, but not all that charmed either, quite neutral in fact. His own garb wasn't all that illustrious either. Though it was, admittedly, a bit more than a shirt. "So I would imagine" he commented the admission of trouble with locals. "I got pick pocketed in fact. Not that the thief was all that pleased with what he ended up finding." he shrugged dismissively. The talk of armor flew past his ears without any response.
Valentin grunts "I'm sure it will. It can blimmin' wait in th'queue like all other bloody customers." Valentin tapped his foot, and his shadow cracked open a chiaroscuro eye. Valentin subtly waved a hand at the large steel door set in the back of the shop and continued speaking "Vox here, apart from bein' a crusty old bastard with a well-hidden sense o'humour, is also a font o'useful an' useless information in vast, vast abundance. An' also taught me a lot o'the basics I knew afore I joined th'guild." At least, those basics his sire had permitted the butcher to learn. It had been quite an unusual and bloody education. "I'm sure you an' him will get along like flint an' tinder." Valentin's shadow, with a sly smirk at the poor choice of analogy, had extended itself out to the metallic door and pulled from a 'pocket' on its silhouette a large and ornate keyshape, which it slips into the shadow under the metallic door with a slight pulse of umbral energy. Valentin addresses Vox and Tenebrae "An' when we're ready, y'can follow me on downstairs. Jus' let me know if y'armour is t'take priority here, an' I'll hold me horses."
Tenebrae had listened to all that politely - while cracking the door open and peering down the street, a frown perching on her brow when said war-garb did not appear immediately. Ducking her head back inside, she said to Vox, "They call me Tenebrae. I used to pick pockets when I was little." She smiled, as this was a fond memory. To Valentin, then: "Has Vox lots of stories about you, when you were ..." young? ".. new, At all this? I'd love to hear them. And I am sure we'll get along splendidly." Valentin's next question was answered by a scuttling, black thing that looked for all the world like a gigantic wood louse. It bumbled in and sat at Tenebrae's feet. She closed the door. "Right as rain, now, Thanadule." And she waited for his lead.
Artritus skillfully stayed out of it. Though it this case it didn't take much skill. Just to ability to shut up and listened. Something he was, in fact, quite good at. Contrary to popular belief. Should either of them have looked his way while they talked before the so called armor arrived, he'd stand silently chewing on a biscuit he'd produced from inside his jacket, a chill gaze bouncing between the two as the conversation went on. When the giant insect creature arrived, he lowered the half eaten pastry from his mouth and unfurled a disproportionate arm towards the metallic door which the quire familiar... familiar had opened for them. "After you then-" cutting himself off before he called the man Bill. After all, he'd yet to deduce weather the name Valentin had grown on the rough man or not. Instead, he silently raised his eyebrows and wiped the crumbs of his face.
Descent into the cold heart of butcherly ingenuity
The metallic door, opened by use of Valentin's necromantic power, leads down into a freezing darkness lit only by the glowing sigils, runes, and arcane patterns which line every inch of the large cold room. Those who still breathe will find their exhalations misting in the bitter, freezing cold of this ensorcelled place. Once eyes have adjusted to the reduced lighting, visitors will be confronted by row after row of meat hooks, sundry carcasses hanging from them, dissuading all but those with the stoutest of stomachs from pushing through to investigate further.
Those who press on through the meat-hooked forest of dead flesh, forced by the density of the collection to bump against those gory meals-to-be, will find Valentin's personal workspace. Large stone benches for the primary cuts, smaller benches for the secondary cuts, and a long rack containing knives of all shapes, purposes and sizes. The sorcerous sigils cluster more thickly in this section, and the pattern seems to spiral in around what appears to be a sealed well from which rustling, writhing sounds emerge. Deep inside that oubliette live Valentin's personal swarm of gravewyrms, relocated from the Vailkrin Cemetery for his own dark purposes. The usefulness of the wyrmpit was found in the fact that the blighters would eat any kind of meat, burrowing through it like termites in wood, leaving any bones and other materials largely untouched. Valentin's horrible little pets were the perfect waste disposal for the butcher. One can only shudder to think what would happen to a living creature thrown down into that hellish pit.
Behind other lockless, handle-less doors, are hidden Valentin's study, curing room, and a room specifically for his private necromantic studies.
Valentin looked at the 'armour' and narrowed his eyes. She jus' got stranger an' stranger, did Tenebrae. Mus' be all that 'subtlety' turnin' her brain into a nest o'riled scorpions, or somethin'. "Right. Tell it t'do its business afore it comes inside proper. If it messes up me floor, it is an ex suit of armour. End o'story." Valentin had strict rules vis-a-vis pets in his store - if they made a mess, they paid for the cleaning labour with the profits of their sale as stock. The butcher nodded to Vox "It's Valentin still. Habits, an' all that." With another dour look at the armour, Valentin locks the front door and wipes his hands on his apron "A'right, follow me." Valentin's shadow, with a theatrical bow, pulls on the metallic door's shadow, and the door itself swings wide, revealing a staircase downwards, lit by the glow from a dense and complex array of necromantic sigils covering every stone. Each stone seems to have its own minor ritual array, but a broader glance would see that there was a much larger pattern which each individual stone's sigils fed into. The temperature, even in the stairwell, is unnaturally cold, and the weight of the sorcerous energies would be oppressive to those who, unlike the present company, lacked necromantic or sorcerous ability. When the trio finish their descent, they would find the stone stairwell opens into what almost appears to be a forest of carcases on meathooks - mostly cattle and sheep, but as Valentin pushed through the dense cluster of necromantically preserved meats, there would be the hint of more bipedal figures on meathooks here and there. Valentin, out of habit, pushed through the beef quarter. "Don't mind the cow meat. Th'energies o'the room keep th'flesh pristine. I found that what causes meat t'rot is stuff which has life energy, right? Little things I can't even blimmin' see - but this room, well, little livin' things don't get t'live in this part o'the coldroom. They shrivel up an' die, an' the meat is sorcerously protected from th'entropy which would otherwise cause spoilage. Keeps me ahead o'the competition, as I can always stay proper supplied when other butcher's have to scrape by balancin' what they can sell with what's likely t'spoil." Eventually, the trio would reach the other end of the excessively large coldroom where several stone slabs were located, as well as tall frames with meathooks and racks of various knives and instruments for cutting, flaying, flensing and fileting. And then there was the pit, from which a sussuration of rasping little bodies could be heard. "Welcome to me workspace."
Tenebrae stared at Valentin for a time, after his flippant reaction to what was possibly the most advanced undead being to hit Lithrydel in centuries. She had to admit, it didn't look like much, but the concept.. Tene scratched the back of her neck, where her symbiote was already itching for the armour, but she wouldn't allow the carapace to cover her. Something wasn't right, and for both these reasons she was frowning as she followed the Butcher and his former tutor down the stairs, the slither of her creation sounding softly on the steps. Her brow uncreased, though, when she entered the coldroom. "Gosh...." green eyes stared about at the sigil arrays and meat hooks and.. oh my.
Artritus studied the area as the proceeded trough it. His cold gaze crossed and traced the sigils and their pattern at a quick pace, studying it much like an artist may study the intricate details of a painting. The meat didn't bother him much, he simply elbowed a few carcasses out of his path with the attitude of someone pushing branches aside. He had showed a brief interest in the creation Tenebrae had called armor, but simply filed it onto his list of priorities for later. At the moment, he lined up next to Valentin, pulling his jacket closer around himself as to protect from the cold. His face somewhat scrounged up from discomfort. "A complex pattern. Complex, perhaps needlessly so, but impressive none the less, truly." he turned on his heel and looked around the room. "You do good works." that grin on his face was unmistakable, Valentin would surely recognize it. It was what happened when the man was intrigued. And usually heralded... things.
Valentin suddenly remembered why he had been so distrustful of Tenebrae's glee even in the early days. It had reminded him too much of Vox when the old man had become... 'interested' in something. It always seemed to Valentin that Vox had played with knowledge like a cat played with mice. It was downright creepy. "Th'pit is where I clean th'meat from bones." Valentin would keep half his gaze on Tenebrae as he said "I 'ave grown quite fond o'Gravewyrms. They'll eat th'meat off of anythin', an' no mistake. I've disposed of a few bodies down in th'pit for local crimelords. As a result, I get a bit of a blind eye for me own projects." The butcher waves his hands in the direction of other doorways "There's other rooms too, for more specific studies, but this place here'll do for a private chat." Valentin responds to Vox then "I have t'agree. This was prob'ly m'first major project involvin' a permanent necromantic array, let alone for this kind o'thing. An', well, if it ain't broke, I don't need t'fix it. But m'meatcart got the benefit o'me learnin' curve here, I can tell you. Much less wasteful use o'sigils. Still, will be more than happy t'have a natter with you about th'finer details at your leisure. Y'always had a good eye for th'little details." Valentin then jerked a hand at the 'armour' "So what's the deal with this?"
Tenebrae backed up. Way, way up those stairs, and her armoured scuttled after her. "You.... have a pit.... full of..." the vampires in the room would smell something akin to vampiric fear mingled with the scent of human male coming off her shirt, one Valentin'd probably be familiar with. "That's just ... " she shuddered. "Sick. Really... not.. " her feet found the next step up. "I mean, the work with the sigils is... really.. that is spectacular and the.... a pit full, though?" Her hand was grappling for the door. "In this.. very confined space." More than her eyes were green, at this point.
Artritus was ignorant of the discomfort of the other two. Perhaps willfully so. He stepped around the open space surrounding the workbench and the pit, briefly stopping by the pit and leaning in over it, entirely unafraid but careful not to fall, with one hand holding his spectacles as he peered down and the other fiddling over the nose of the white mask hanging from his belt. "Come now" he airily chirped at Tenebrae "Nothing to fear should you avoid the fool notion of falling in." he straightened up and pulled his jacket back around him tightly, stepping about to complete the circle as he placed himself by Valentin once again. This time on the other side. "Improving the function would involve temporarily disabling it. I suppose I'll stick to a theoretical study, then." it would seem that Vox had become a tad more mellow since they last met. Valentin would have been hard pressed to keep the deathpreist from preforming a practical study of the permanent array in the old days. Now he simply accepted the terms and stood there shuddering. A twinge amused at the woman's distress at the pit.
Valentin got more than he had ever hoped was possible. In fact, this probably put the ever-shifting ledgers a little in his favour. The Thanatos Domina was still jittery about his little cleaners, it seemed. It was difficult, but Valentin managed to contain what would have been a broad grin behind his habitual stonefaced demeanour. "Aye mam'selle. They're breedin' like rabbits on the frequent diet o'flesh an' tendons they get t'chew on. I've already had t'hive 'em off once, an' have another room where th'second swarm is kept. At this rate, I might achieve three o'four swarms, though at tha' point feedin' 'em will start t'draw attention, so I might jus' keep it t'three swarms f'now. An' as ol' man Vox says, they're fine so long as y'don' fall down th'pit. It's deep enough that they can't get out without me own assistance." Valentin rubbed the stubble on his jaw, if only to help prevent himself from smirking. "Thankee for th'kind words on m'cold room. Feel free t'take creative inspiration from 'em when y'set up your own." Valentin nods to Vox "'Fraid it'll have t'be theoretical for th'spots already ensorcelled. But that ain't t'say y'can't offer your services t'Tenebrae - after all, she wants a cold room like this set up, an' she likes to have the best toys in th'playpen, as th'sayin' goes." Valentin was taking liberties, but he figured Tenebrae might just be disoriented enough by the notion of two or three swarms of Gravewyrms for him to slip in a subtle jab or two for the sake of practice in the art of 'subtlety'.
Tenebrae turned a special shade of pale, at mention of the 'fool notion of falling in' and nothing much after that was likely to encourage her back down those stairs. The armour at her feet was not reacting in the same way as would had she actually been wearing it - and Tene was quite glad she was not, at that point. The door swung to, allowing a dim bit of extra light to fall into the hellhole.. as she was mentally dubbing Valentin's fabulous cold storage space. "Well. Lovely to meet you, Artie," she said to Vox, with a hasty wave, "Please feel free to visit my vats, Valentin will show you the way. " And to the Butcher, she offered a brittle sort of smile, "Well done, Thanadule. I'll be at the Manse ... " and this last would be heard from the other side of that stout door, not long before the outer one was heard opening and closing again as the dark woman shuddered her way out into the blessedly wyrm-free night.
Valentin waves to his rapidly departing Mistress with a sense of profound and malevolent triumph. There would be a hint of smugness to the butcher in that moment. And then Valentin turns to his old tutor, and the two discuss the finer points of necromancy into the dark hours of the night.