RP:Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice

From HollowWiki

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc


This is a Mage's Guild RP.


Summary: Quintessa, examining the strange amulet she retrieved from Brenwyn's corpse after his execution, is visited by one of her colleagues. Yet, it seems there is more to this non-descript steward than first believed. Quintessa poses her demands to Haladavar, and upon being refused, loses her temper, severing her ties with the Ossian Order.

(NPCing by Odhranos)


Mage Tower

Quintessa sits in her office alone, a strange object known as a soul-cage perched in the cradle of a tripod upon the surface of her desk. Feverishly, the necromancer scribbles down notes about it, copying down the cryptic language etched into the round bands surrounding the chunk of amber before her. She is on the precipice of a breakthrough, of cracking open the secrets of this enigma just like the amber egg they cracked long ago. Suddenly it dawns on her why this amber looked so familiar. Did this have something to do with the ancient elven magic that kept the small group of tribals preserved in that fossilized sap? Quintessa’s brow furrows as she lifts her goggles onto her head, standing up swiftly to retrieve a book on runeology from the shelf in her room. Delicate digits flip through the pages frantically, searching for the most ancient of runes copied down by the elves as she returns to her seat. “Yes, of course…” The hexblade was close, she could feel it. This had something to do with the anomaly in the Sage Forest, but the runic alphabet in this book implied that there was also a connection to Rynvale and the Fog Forest. Quintessa curses herself. Why had she been so short-sighted in her time as an apprentice? Whatever happened to the elven prisoners that Lanlan and Odhranos had taken when they were freed from their amber prison? There is one thing that sticks out in this book that causal study had never illuminated before, but something once seen as arbitrary now appears to be the linchpin in this whole mystery. “Robelous Scribes?”


A quiet knock at Quintessa’s door cuts over the hexblade’s musings, and an equally soft voice peeps out through the wood-panelling. “Steward Quintessa, are you there?” Whether a response is returned or not, the door handle is turned and a round face dominated by large curious eyes looks around the frame. “Oh! You are here! That’s great!” Opening the door fully and stepping inside, Steward Sophione bows deeply towards Quintessa. Tucking the loose strands that have escaped her neat bob behind one small, yet pointed ear, Sophione folds her arms neatly behind her back and states her purpose. “In light of recent events, the Faculty of Illusion were wondering, is Veneficus Kasyr going to be returning to the Tower in the near future?” The small half-elf coughs and her rigid posture softens a little. “We’ve not heard from him in a little bit, and given that yourself and Steward Karasu work with him we thought…maybe...Oh!” Dispensing with her official facade when she notices that Quintessa appears to be neck-deep in some hefty literature, the sprightly half-elf stands on the balls of her feet, trying to peep across the desk at her research. “Ooh, are you working on something? Anything interesting? Something revolutionary?” Steward Sophione Morley, known more often by “Soph” amongst her colleagues, is also famous for being a fiend for cutting edge research. If it’s never been heard of before, then Steward Morley will make sure that it won’t remain so for long.


Quintessa || When there is a knock on Quintessa’s door, the young mage jumps in shock, the book in her hands abandoned on her desk as she quickly drapes a cloth over the chunk of amber contained within the tripod. “I- Uh…” The changeling stands again, moving around her desk to block her research with her body as Sophione enters. “Yes, I’m in today.” Quintessa’s heart is pounding in her chest at this point, even when it is simply a fellow stewardess that greets her at her door. “Oh, Sophione, it’s just you…” A pale hand wipes the sweat from her brow, her mismatched eyes narrowing slightly when the elven mage tries to spy at her work. It was unlike Quintessa to be so secretive about her studies, but she is clearly hesitant about sharing what she’s working on, still, she allows the woman to gaze at her desk without doing anything to stop her. “Sort of…” The changeling circles back around to her seat, motioning for Soph to join her if she wants to in the chair opposite to her. “Wait, you’re a high elf, right? Perhaps you might be able to help me.” Quintessa reopens her book back to the page on elven alphabets and finds the place she was before, a hand waving to close the door behind her. “Are you familiar with these runes? I’m having difficulty translating them.” The changeling holds the tome out for her to see, flipping it around for her so she wouldn’t be tempted to read the words upside down.


Sophione nods eagerly, if it will buy her a way into something even “sort of” new and interesting, then she’s the highest, most elven elf to ever set foot in the Mage Tower. “Sure! Runes are fun, sort of like handwriting, but more explosive.” Snorting at her own joke as she takes the book from Quintessa, the half-elf seems rather confused by what she finds on the page. “I’m not sure what I’m looking at? Well, no, I mean, I know what I’m looking at, but I’m not sure what you’re looking for in it? These are way old Sylvan runes. Like, Post-Saurian Wars old. I wouldn’t have thought there was much new to find in them? Are you writing a history book?” Soph turns quizzical eyes to the hexblade, though the slight incredulity in her eyes belays that she’s questioning Quintessa’s definition of “revolutionary”. Even if it is only “sort of.” She shrugs and hands the book back. “But I can read them, no problem. Kinda musty topic though. New Sylvan runes are much better at...like, everything.” The half-elf wrinkles her nose, evidently she’s no history buff.


Quintessa allows a slow exhale to escape through her nose as she takes the book back. It wasn’t much information but it meant she was at least on the right track. The changeling snaps the book closed before returning it to the wooden surface of her desk and the odd girl lifts her quill to add this relation to her notes. Whatever soul was contained within this object was very ancient indeed, but why had it been trapped to begin with? Who trapped it? Was this entity dangerous or had they been unjustly imprisoned? Sapphire and topaz eyes flicker back up to Soph and she raises her hand to the cloth draped over Haladavar’s soul cage. She knew the arcane steward was a blabber-mouth but Quintessa was certain she could give her just enough information to be compelling without giving away what was truly going on. After all, nobody else in this tower was educated in soul-binding. “So,” the hexblade begins, slowly lifting the vale that keeps the amber chunk hidden from view, “Can you read this?”


Sophione nods sagely when Quintessa sighs, folding her arms as a forlorn look crosses her face. “I know exactly how you feel. It’s just so depressing looking at old runes and artefacts and thinking about how much better they could have been with today’s knowledge. So much time lost.” Shaking her head with dismay, Soph doesn’t notice Quintessa unveiling the amber amulet until she poses her question. Raising her eyebrows in curiosity, Sophione breaks into smiles at the sight of the amulet. “Oh wow. Look at you, you stunning piece of work.” The Steward leans in to inspect the amulet, peering deeply into the amber with her nose almost pressed up against the glassy surface, until the amber is well-fogged up from the condensation of her breath. “Yeah, you were on the right track with that book. Might have been a bit of a pain to back-translate though. Robelous runes are even older than what you had there. Best bet would be to raid Lanlan’s office for his notes, or Odhranos’. Though he took most of his notes with him. I checked. Real disappointment.” Sophione looks up at Quintessa, breaking her intense scrutiny of the amulet and she fixes the hexblade with a raised eyebrow and a wide grin. “Though, I dunno why you’d bother with books. You’ve got the original scribe right here, just ask him. Waaay quicker that way. Here, I’ll help!” Without any further warning, Sophione points out her index finger and prods the amulet, which causes a shudder to blitz down her arm, kocking her back a step, as her eyes roll back into hear head. A moment later, Steward Sophione comes to her senses, and stands up straight, her posture suddenly more rigid and regal. She lifts her right hand, and clenches it, flexing her fingers as she stares at it sternly. “First time in a female body. Curious. Thank you for your willingness, Sophione, the amulet was getting stuffy.” The half-elf’s voice is suddenly deeper, almost chocolatey in its smoothness, as she returns her attention to Quintessa. “Steward Dragana.” Sophione’s bubbly cheery features are drawn into a subdued smile, one that belays a degree of command and confidence. “Your assistance has been instrumental in the progress of our efforts. For that, I thank you.”


Quintessa was about to stop her, about to snatch Sophione’s wrist to keep her from touching the amulet, but she doesn’t bother, curious enough to see what would happen to her if she did. As suspected, the soul contained within the cage attaches itself to the Stewardess’ body and overrides control of her mind. With cool indifference, Quintessa leans back in her seat and fixes the gloves on her hands. “I’ve been in a male body before, when I possessed an orc- It’s not so different. Her gloved hand reaches out to take the chunk of amber from the tripod and she turns it around in her hand slowly. “And then I caused his death much like you did to your last host.” Quintessa smirks in spite of herself. “So I suppose the two of us aren’t all that different either.” Her mismatched gaze flickers away from the object in her hand to gaze up at the female, half-elf body before her. “But I don’t want your thanks, whoever you are- I want what was promised to me when Odhranos and I kidnapped that Larketian brat. I want that Provost Esoterica position. With Ordranos in Frostmaw and Brenwyn dead, you need to fill the power vacuum with someone loyal to the Ossian Order. Who better than myself? I have more than proven my capabilities.”


Sophione sniffs, then shrugs, turning down the corners of her mouth in a “well, fair enough” sort of expression. “Well, your terms are simple, I suppose. I can’t fault you for that.” Sophione waves a hand towards Quintessa, a plaintive slant to her lips as she does so. “But you’re missing the big picture. Strings could be pulled, and the position granted. But, to what gain?” The half-elf pivots on her heel, pacing the length of the office as she continues. “The Mages Guild as you know it is breathing its final breaths. Brenwyn’s death was the catalyst that pushed them down the final stretch and even now, it plummets headlong towards the dissolution of its own making. Very soon, the term Provost Esoterica won’t mean anything.” A sidelong glance is tossed at the hexblade as she continues. “I can offer you more, if you have the patience to help me, but you have done everything that has been asked of you so far. I find no fault if you wish to step away now.” Another shrug, and the half-elf comes to a halt, extending a hand towards Quintessa, palm upright, stopping short for Quintessa to make the final move. “If it is your wish, then I won’t refuse you. You have proven your capabilities, so I will grant your request. Please give Sophione the amulet.”


Quintessa looks at the outstretched hand before her, hesitation in her eyes of mixed colors as the request to hand the amulet over reaches her ear. A thought crosses her mind, a devious one. What if she refused? What if instead of simply walking away she threw the chunk of amber to the ground and crushed it under her heel? Quintessa feels powerful in this moment, she had something they needed. She was the one in control. “If I’m missing the big picture,” she begins, her lips pulled in a straight, serious line as she speaks, “It is because I am being kept in the dark. Remember what caused me to threaten to kill you before? It was not being trusted that led me to betray the man I thought Brenwyn was. Don’t make the same mistake by keeping me out of the loop.” Quintessa dangles the amulet out for her to take, the hunk of amber swinging to and fro as she locks eyes with the half-elf. “I am taking an apprentice, that is why I want this rank, and after the ‘guild as I know it’ crumbles I will be reserved a spot in the new world. Do this for me and I will continue to work with you- to further your goals, but if you cross me…” Quintessa doesn’t need to finish that sentence, her history spoke for her.


Sophione furrows her brows as Quintessa’s tone takes an aggressive lilt. “Quintessa, do you know how many years have been spent leading us to these present days? How many have had to work in the darkness, so that we lucky few might see the light?” She withdraws her hand, leaving the amulet in Quintessa’s grip. “If we had exposed ourselves to every individual that walked through these doors, our purpose would have been unveiled centuries ago. Can you understand why you would be kept in the dark? We know nothing of you, nothing of your allegiances.” Sophione’s eyes harden, and her lip curls slightly. “I will not risk ten thousand years of progress because a child demands to know more than she has the right to. I toil to bring this land, this world, to see the light, and you speak of crossing you?” Sophione takes a step closer towards Quintessa, and meets her eyes with a fierce stare that belays centuries of repressed emotion, stemmed only by an iron-will that has weathered aeons. “Stand against me and you stand against the world. Speak out against me, and you speak out against the world. I have suffered an age so that you and your descendants might live in a world free of hardship, and you speak to me of crossing you?” Sophione leans in closer, til her nose is mere inches from Quintessa’s and her voice is soft, gentle even. “I will make this world perfect, and I will grant everything you could ever want. For that, I only ask your obedience.” A moment later, and she has turned away, holding her hand out aside her for the amulet. “The Enlightenment is earned by those who prove themselves worthy of salvation. The choice then falls to you.”


Quintessa doesn’t give her a chance to loom over her, instead rising to her feet when the phrase ‘stand against me’ is uttered to her. The changeling feels the curse of her bloodlust bubble up, boiling her mind in hot wrath. For a second Quintessa wants to make this person suffer, and her gaze betrays this emotion clearly in her mismatched eyes. There are a dozen different ways she wants to mouth off, to threaten, to falsely claim that she wanted to see the world burn, or at least didn’t care if it did… but Quintessa holds her tongue, showing that she was not the hotheaded appearance that freed this being from the amber along with her Karasu, Odhranos, and Lanlan. Things had drastically changed since that day, especially in regards to her relationships with these three. “Read my dossier,” she says, failing to contain the venom that drips from her sharp tongue, “Countess Quintessa Dragana, fledgling vampire leader of the Dark Forest. But you know that isn’t true- you know that I have been pulling the strings of scheming vampires all the while keeping the wool over their eyes to my true nature. I revealed this to you the night you recruited me. You know more than most do about me. I even warned you when Magister Kerrigan and Provost Grace, my -friends-, conspired to kill you, so do not question my loyalty to this cause.” Quintessa slowly walks around her desk to place the amulet gingerly in the palm of their hand, the waves of rage dying down like a fire that has been robbed of its oxygen. “I’ve earned my Enlightenment,” she claims, “But if I must do more to prove it to you, so be it. The Ossian Order shall have my obedience because I share in your vision of a perfect world.”


Sophione closes her fingers around the amulet slowly when it is placed in her palm. “I remain unconvinced. Words mean little. Actions speak louder. You swore an oath to this Guild, and yet, at the mere promise of power, you helped drive the slow stake into the Guilds back. A mere denial of a title and you are willing to kill a man in cold blood. You have proven yourself capable, how should I believe it won’t happen again?” Walking to the door, Sophione rests her hand on the handle and pauses. “You will have to prove that these actions do not define who you are. I will not make you a Provost. Instead, you will prove your loyalty to this vision and in return, you will be rewarded with eternity.” A smile can be seen creeping across Sophione’s face, as adulation fills her face, looking beyond the door to the glorious future. “See this vision whole, and you will be made immortal. Eternal. More power than your mortal mind can comprehend. I will make you a god. Something more fitting of your ambition.” And with that, the door is opened and shut, leaving Quintessa behind with her thoughts.


Quintessa || The dam that had been holding back Quintessa’s fury breaks when the admission that she would not be given her promised title is made. “More lies?!” The voice that comes from the Countessa is warped and terrifying, sounding like it was pulled from the very depths of hell itself. Before Sophion can open the door to Quintessa’s office, it is encased in shadowfire, locking the female elf in the room with the changeling as she draws her katana and spins the stewardess around to face her, the tip of her blade pointed upward at her throat. “Did I not just warn you, you frakking idiot! Already you betray me?!” Pointed teeth are bared as she screams, her maleficent aura dimming the room and shutting out all the light coming through her small window as it engulfs the pair. “I wasn’t asking- I was demanding! I don’t give a damn about your empty promises you megalomaniac. Larewen promised me the same thing, and now I’m going to make you a promise myself; Pull your little strings to give me my promotion or I pour all on my ambitions into killing each and every last member of your little group. I will expose you to everyone! I will make sure that any time you make a move there will already be a roadblock to stop you. Do you understand me?”


Sophione turns calmly, facing the drawn blade with a sad frown. "Then you have made your choice. I had higher hopes." Sophione begins wavering, first her hair, then the edges of her body begin to waver, the colour bleeding out as she begins fading, slowly becoming more and more indistinct. "You can look. But others have looked. And who will believe you?" Sophione shrugs, as she dissolves into motes of light. "And besides. It's too late now. You served your purpose well, Quintessa. Ossia thanks you for your service." With that, the illusion of the Steward melds out of sight, leaving not so much as a hair behind to suggest she were ever there.


Quintessa lets out another blood-curdling scream as the Jubaku no Kijo swings into nothingness, swiping away the illusion of Sophione before the changeling realizes that she is intangible. “You COWARD!!” This second scream shakes the walls of her room, a wave of force toppling bookshelves and shattering her specimen jars and window pane, sending a shower of glass onto the floor of her office. Turning around, Quintessa swings her sword downward to smash her desk into pieces, letting it rest in the crumbled heap as she puts her finger up to her earring. “We need to have a meeting- Kasyr, Khitti, Magik, Karasu, everyone who can make it. I’ve found the cancer corrupting the Mage’s Guild.”