RP:Dragon-Marked

Synopsis: Larewen accepts Gheneroc's offer of power, becoming the first of his followers to bear the Chain of Domination.

A Cave near the Scenic View of Hollow, in the Xalious Mountains

Larewen approached the cave quietly, though this time she was not following another person. She was curious, once more, to find Gheneroc. For a woman who had yet to accept his offer, it was rather peculiar. She had, for the time-being at least, made up her mind, and she intended to divulge that much and, provided that Xersom was not still present, also convey her annoyance regarding Sevirow. There was also the interest in dragons in particular, especially from what she'd heard from the pair before she'd become lost in her own little world.

Gheneroc had sensed Larewen's approach, and rather than have the vampire enter the flesh-eating miasma that had filled the cavern, Gheneroc actually exited to the cave mouth to greet the vampire. The mighty stone dragon was once more full size, his foreleg alone slightly taller than Larewen's full height. The mighty beast shifted into the dimming daylight, his skin starting to reflect more of his surroundings. He bore wounds caused by the black dragon's acid. He had finished his work in securing this cave, and ousting the black dragon. Not that Gheneroc truly cared for the treasure, he was a master of earth after all. "Have you finally come to accept?" Gheneroc asked, his cadence as slow and purposeful as always. Every move he made was not without consideration, and often with purpose no matter how small.

Larewen lifted her chin, that customary smirk displayed across full lips. "I have," came her reply. For every bit as rough as the dragon was, the sorceress was soft - save in her manner and beliefs. She was fleshy, he was rock. Her voice was almost reminiscent of silver bells, and his shook the very earth beneath their feet. "But," she began with a lift of a gloved finger. "I cannot promise that I won't harm others who decide to follow you." Her chin lowered back to its normal position. "I was very much ready to dismember that awful, vile creature you were speaking with the other night at the mines."

Gheneroc was pleased. But his rough-hewn face couldn't really express emotions that well. The powerful beast stood still for the moment, deciding it best to rest as little as possible as his long slumber finally ebbed away. His full strength was returning, and it showed in the dragon's posture. "I can trust you have the proper judgement for those suitable to follow, and those unsuitable." Gheneroc also was referring to Sevirow.

Larewen once more craned her neck in what was likely a nod. "Yes, and those of his sort will be put best to use as fodder. For as long as he can be tolerated, that is. Feigning attention to his desires will be simple enough; if he believes we are working in his interest, he will work even harder. That is, however, a fine line, to dance across. If he at any point realizes that we're only using him, then I will simply dispose of him at that point in time."

Gheneroc knew he could trust Larewen's judgement. He grumbled a bit as he shifted his stance slightly. "That is why I have -you-." Gheneroc had his favorites, and Larewen was perhaps one of the better choices. "What would you seek as a reward?" After all, merely agreeing to be Gheneroc's scion didn't immediately entitle Larewen to a reward. Larewen lifted her shoulders in lieu of the query. "I haven't anything in mind that I won't come by of my own accord," came her reply. It was true, too. Gheneroc couldn't simply grant her immense power or knowledge; that would require as much effort on her part with him as it would without him. "And I've hardly anything better to do with my time."

Gheneroc seemed satisfied by this answer. "I should hope to keep you entertained, then." Gheneroc said, almost lightly. The dragon scanned over Larewen's small form with his deep red eyes. "You don't have a mate, do you?" Gheneroc asked, almost sagely.

Larewen wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow at that query, for it was one she certainly hadn't expected from the stone dragon. "I agreed to remarry my ex-husband, but it's been quite some time since he's last crossed my path," she answered after a moment, biting her tongue in the process. "So no, I don't believe I do. Why?"

Gheneroc settled into place once again, still standing tall. He stated the answer plainly: "Distractions." Gheneroc beathed in, deeply and exhaled slowly. "If you are to remain useful, I must take priority." Gheneroc rumbled again. "If need be, consider me your jealous lover." Gheneroc thought this might erect a smile on Larewen's face, given the relatively light tone.

Larewen quirked a brow upward, a bemused smirk curling the corner of her lips upward as her arms folded over her torso. "Is that so?" she queried, her head tilted so that dark eyes could find his. "A dragon that bears no human-like form is hardly fit for a lover. I happen to prefer being whole, if you don't mind." Her own tone mirrored his before taking on a more serious note. "My first priority is myself, Gheneroc. As long as it benefits me, I will act as one of your pawns. I happen to have faith that this will not be a short-lived service."

Gheneroc nodded. "Stay close, Larewen... And perhaps you will see my territory expand. If you continue to serve, perhaps there will be a station for you to occupy." Enticing Larewen with the promise of a great symbol of power: dominion. "Your service term will be for as long as you deem it necessary."

Larewen most definitely was enticed by that idea. That was why, for now, she'd chosen to lay her allegiance with the the stone dragon. "Regardless of whose service I am, that perhaps should be a -when-, no?" came her reply. Having been greeted outside the entrance of the cave, rather than having crossed into it, the dark sorceress instead sought to lean against a half-corroded tree in a way that was almost unladylike for such a well-dressed woman. "If it puts your mind at ease, prospective mates pose no threat as a distraction. I have nearly killed my ex-husband before, and if he crossed my path I wouldn't hesitate again."

Gheneroc bowed his head in a slow nod. "It is a matter of time, Larewen." Gheneroc trailed off just before resurrecting the chair that had previously been summoned. It scooted across the ground effortlessly, as though it didn't weigh nearly a ton, and it stopped near Larewen. "Take heed. The path to true power must be taken alone.

Larewen lowered her eyes to the stone chair that had been summoned once more and quite gratefully removed herself from the tree to sit upon it. It was quite lovely, after all. She leaned forward slightly, cupping her chin in her palm and resting her elbow upon her knee as she looked up at Gheneroc. "Then I expect to be as disposable to you as you are to me," came her words. They were words perhaps best not spoken to a dragon, but Larewen was without fear.

Gheneroc was a tough little dragon. He could handle Larewen's comment with stride. Without even so much as batting an eye, his reply came. "Of course. I may yet find a competent replacement for you, Larewen. I have lived long, and I do not expect to die any time soon." The wingless dragon rumbled again. He silently hoped for a more improved relationship with Larewen but only time may tell.

Larewen chuckled. "I should hope not. It would be a waste if you did," came her reply. "And if you should happen to find someone more competent than myself before I've grown tired, then I will kill them." Or die trying, though Larewen was a prideful creature and certainly liked to think she was quite strong. What she believed, and what she exercised, could very well be two different things, but having opened rifts to other, far darker places in her past, the woman was fairly confident in her own ability. "Sevirow is a creature of disrespect," she began, having noted his name when it was mentioned before. "Should he become too forward with me again, I will silence his tongue. He is, clearly, willing to aid your cause, but like myself, only for as long as it benefits him. Admirable, but his lecherous nature is not worth the hassle. He will be easy to distract and easy to lead astray."

Gheneroc narrowed his eyes at the mention of Sevirow's behavior. "Do as you see fit, Larewen. I want to see what sort of leader you may yet become." Gheneroc's tone was a little thoughtful. "But to lead, you must know how to follow." Gheneroc slowly raised his front leg and muttered a few arcane syllables before pushing his magic at Larewen. He would attempt to give her his brand, which would manifest as a braided chain over the vampire's skin. The brand itself bore the symbol of Gheneroc's long dead nation, now seen for the first time in over ten thousand years. If the mark was successfully placed, Larewen should feel a delightful rush of power. The dragon mark would increase her natural and magical abilities slightly. "You must wear proof of your loyalty." Gheneroc stated, after the influx of power died down.

Larewen felt the surge of power. How could a sorceress not? It led to a raising of her brow as her eyes watched his foot. Did he plan to bind her and kill her then? Something, perhaps instinct, told the elf that that was not, in fact, the case. As the magic first approached her, the dark sorceress's defenses manifested in the form of a nearly invisible shield around her body, pushing back against the magic and then a crackling, before finally she allowed it to pass through. The mark formed first just beneath her hairline behind her right ear, spiraling down across her her left breast. Though it was not entirely visible, it continued to snake across her left breast and then curl around to her back before coiling around her right leg and ending at her foot. With it came that delightful surge of power, accompanied by an even wider smirk.

Gheneroc could tell that Larewen liked what the mark had promised. Gheneroc had tapped in to only a fraction of the full potential of magic he could wield. The ancient mage had memorized a number of intricate, complicated spells and often never needed components to cast. "You are now my eyes, my ears, and my voice." Gheneroc was demonstrating his control of Larewen by having her recite exactly what he was saying at the moments, the moment he said it. "This is your bond of trust, and a symbol of power. Should you wish it, the mark may be removed, but as does its boon." Gheneroc released control, he hated micromanaging after all, but now he could see the world through Larewen's eyes. The magic cracked and sizzled as the external power faded, slowly blending with Larewen's dark aura.

Larewen was startled when her own voice greeted her ears without her desire to speak. It was certainly an interesting ordeal and even as Gheneroc relinquished control of her once more. When his magic blended into her own and her vocals were now manipulated by her own desire, she said to him, undoubtedly probing at the changes within her own magic, "I'm not so sure I'll be wishing that." She relished the feel far too much. You has to go in about fifteen

Gheneroc would have grinned, but as stated before, it would look as though he was baring his sharp teeth. Gheneroc spoke again. "And there is one last benefit..." Gheneroc inhaled deeply and actually unleashed his breath weapon at Larewen. The purple mist jetted forth, pouring out vaporously and it was headed straight for the vampire. While the mist literally decayed and ate the tree that grew behind Larewen, she would be relatively unscathed. But unless her clothes were magically protected against the acidic miasma, they might melt away as well. But the vampire was entirely immune, even as the caustic gas started to spread over the area. Just to make the encounter that much more interesting.

Larewen seemed unbothered as her clothes melted away from her. She'd have to make a trip to Larket for new ones, undoubtedly. She watched in awe as the miasma spread, another grin finding her lips. Yes, this was definitely something she could become used to - and she said as much with a gracious, "Thank you."