RP:Gifts of Undeath and Death

Part of the Saurian Onslaught Arc

Summary: Gevurah’s favorite servant, Izzerin, was killed by Lanlan. Izzerin’s body was so badly mangled that Gevurah could not resurrect him. Daath, however, with his knowledge of the undead and proto-flesh was able to bring back Izzerin in a new, undead body. In return, Gevurah gave Daath a gift of her own: the opportunity to kill the magister or Arcania who failed to protect the city from the Razurath attack then fled Trist’oth like a coward.

Daath once again argues that Arcania should actually teach drow mages real magic. Gevurah agrees to a limit - so long as Arcania is never more powerful than D’Artes.

House D’Artes

Gevurah receives a note from Daath (the fantasy drow equivalent of sending your partner a text from the other room saying “can u come here 1 sec?”). His tone is formal but warm. The Razurath crisis accelerated the de-icing of their cold drow hearts. Calamity has forced them to trust each quickly, and in battle they proved their allegiance by risking their lives for their common cause and each other. Gevurah arrives at Daath’s door in a sheer black robe that hangs loosely over a body-hugging, long black dress. She knocks on the frame of his open door. “You wanted me?”

Daath sits in a long backed leather chair that has embellished designs of skeletal arms holding screaming skulls at the end of each arm rest. The room is lit by the faerie-fire that is so common in the underdark, and the Magister can be seen reading a book right before his wife makes herself known. Her words elicit a smirk to form, before he replies. "Always and forever." A joke, naturally, but one I'm sure they both enjoy given the nature of this marriage. Back to business he closes the tome he reads with a snap and places it on the nightstand near him, rising as to properly great the Matron of House D'Artes. A bow is offered, another showing of their ever evolving relationship as he now willingly offers her the respect her station demands. Wife or not she is still his matron as well. Either way, he says to the woman, a quick glance to admire her always stunning looks. "I know these days have been rough, but I hope you wouldn't mind a gift?" A wave of his hand causes an otherwise unseen door to open, leading to where is anyone's guess. But from it emerges a familiar figure to Gevurah. Her oldest and mystical servant, Izzerin. With perhaps a bit more spunk than previously had before, the matron's companion walks forward, bows and says. "Hello, my matron." Daath knows a moment will be needed for the surprise to set in, as well as the questions he is sure are to occur once she realizes the new nature of her beloved butler.

Gevurah grins at the joke. She returns his bow with a nod then looks at the magical door. When did he have that installed? Where does it connect? Ah well, this is what it’s like to live with a mage. Her jaw goes a bit slack as she blinks several times at Izzerin. Lanlan completely obliterated him, straight up mangled him. The corpse was unrecognizable. There was no way to resurrect him, and yet here he stands. “Izzerin?” She looks to Daath. “How? Is he undead?” She circles Izzerin to inspect him and discovers that this cannot possibly be his original body. Slowly she smiles and lets Izzerin see her pleasure that he is back. Daath doesn’t know it yet, but he too will benefit from the return of Izzerin. He makes this house run on rails - absolutely irreplaceable.

Daath allows those moments to pass as she sees Izzerin, gives her time to look over his work that took considerable resources and skill that lesser necromancers wouldn't possess. He doesn't boast though, it would cheapen the moment. He answers her questions with, "Unfortunately undeath was all I could offer with what remained. But I managed, taking care that as much of him could remain that was possible." He looks over Izzerin, noting the drow eyes him right back in the same manner he always has. Still wondering why he is here, in the house, and what rumors would spread that his beloved Lady Gevurah would have to deal with. Daath continues saying. "I know he means a lot to you, and I know such help is irreplaceable."

Gevurah sees Izzerin’s confusion and reminds him that she and Daath are married. It was one of the last things Izzerin witnessed before he was tortured to death by Lanlan. It makes sense if his mind is blocking out that entire day. First the Razurath raze the city, then Gevurah marries Daath, then Izzerin is killed by a jealous patron. Rough day for all drow, but perhaps Izzerin had the worst of it. “It gladdens me to see you back, Izzerin. The house is a disaster without you.” She lifts her rare smile to Daath, “Thank you.” Savor it, Daath, for she doesn’t offer many moments like these. His generosity inspires her to return the favor. She’d been sitting on a gift for Lanlan, but suddenly decides to give it to Daath instead. “Izzerin, rest in your quarters and I’ll speak with you soon.” Izzerin bows and sees himself out as Gevurah whispers to Daath, “Come. I have something you’ll like.” She slips out into the hall, glancing over her shoulder to ensure Daath is right behind her. “You never admired the magisters of Arcania, did you?” She leads him down a flight of steps, then another, and through a portal-tapestry, down a wall, through a false book-shelf, across a stately room, then out into an inner courtyard, into a bioluminescent mushroom garden, and into a pond that teleports them to a second, even more secret dungeon.

Daath watches as Izzerin takes his leave, knowing that rest would not be possible and hopes that the old soundings ways to spend his newfound unlife. Then, a small adventure awaits as he is lead through various channels and twists and turns, the dark elf wondering where he is being lead but honestly trusting Gevurah was not setting him up. He informs her on Izzerin, noting the fact he just pondered himself. "He can't rest. And it may take time to adjust to it all. It's why many undead go insane. But I stand by my work. As well." He reaches into his robe pocket and brings forth a bracket. Made from bone, engraved with runes and having a dark aura about it. He tosses it to Gevurah as he says. "Fashioned from his own bones. It'll ensure that as long as you wear this, not only can he ever be made to act against you, but that not even I can sway his loyalty to you. To complete the binding spell, you'll need to add your blood, sealing the pact and binding him to you for all his undead existence." He'd let that settle as he follows her to where ever they are going.

Gevurah holds the bracelet gingerly for a moment before slipping it on. No one has ever given her jewelry, especially not jewelry fashioned from a dead drow’s bones to force him into eternal servitude. Aw, bae. “You thought of everything,” she says by way of a compliment. In the dungeon, she explains, “I keep this dungeon for top secret and powerful prisoners. The main dungeon is sometimes compromised by spies. Here,” she open an iron door. Inside the top magister of Arcania is cowering in a corner. He wears anti-magic manacles and his mouth is gagged with a piece of leather inscribed with the rune for the silence spell. “He fled after the city was attacked. Incompetent and a coward. Too incompetent to see the attack coming, too much of a coward to face the consequences. But it’s no matter, my mercenaries found him in Darkiln.” The gnome city. “I thought I would give you the honor of teaching this coward a lesson.” Originally this was an honor she would gift to Lanlan, but Lanlan killed Izzerin and Daath brought the servant back. Sometimes her motivations are quite simple. And in a way this also presents an opportunity for Gevurah to appraise her new husband’s brutality.

Daath has followed the Matron to this secret location. He'd try to remember the way but the dizzying nature of the path she took him will not allow such. It's fine, he enjoys a good mystery. A new mystery rises as he comes before a cell, though it is quickly revealed to be a surprise for him. Just a day of exchanges between married drow. No biggie. It takes a moment, but Daath's gaze falls upon Aziruss as he is and a look forms up on his features that is not often seen. He stalks the fallen mage as Gevurah speaks, tho his gaze never leaves Arcania's soon to be former headmaster. Even if Daath chose to forgo his chance to claim his life, Aziruss would never see freedom. And so, seeing this as is her gift to him, Daath would not waste time. His right hand extends out as he closes the distance, his fingers spreading out as he grabs hold of his victims face. Here, he'd remove the gag in a swiping motion that causes some scratches upon his beaten and tired face. Daath says nothing, but from the many pockets that line his robe does he bring forth an object. This object looks like a palm sized scarab, perfectly cut and shaped. If one looked close they'd perhaps see a swirling within the gem, but before one gets a good look Daath drops it down in front of the bound Magister of Arcania. He then snaps out his right hand once more, Aziruss refusing to say a peep even as Daath yanks his hair back so the pair stare at one another. "You abandon your people. You show your weakness. And you disgrace your rank." Another tug of the fistfull of hair, and Daath tone sharpens. "And what's worse? You endanger my wife's life. You force her hand? You abandon her." Daath shoves the drow's face down, and after a moment the blood from his wounds falls and drips on the jade scarab. At first nothing happens, but soon the jade scarab starts to crack, small at first and then bigger and louder before fully bursting open to give life to a single magically created and horribly cursed scarab. To most they would not see much of a threat, but instantly Aziruss' eyes flare open wide with terror. This item, while thought a myth, was threatening ago by ancient mages of the lost Shattered Kingdom. A realm of magic users, this curse creates the scarab that has one purpose. One it goes about doing without hesitation. The creature crawls up to Aziruss and tears it's way into his flesh, digging, biting and clawing until it is fully within his body. Here, the creature starts to feed, slowly, and it makes its way towards every major organ the drow has. But, whats worse? The scarab feasts up on the mages magic. The stronger one is in magic the more excruciating, and slow, the scarab feeds. Taking its time as it moves through its meal, savoring the feast as it also drains the magic out of Aziruss. He will die, but given how strengthen Magister is, the scarab could feed for days, maybe even weeks. Aziruss would feel it all, the curse keeping him alive so that he feels it all until he has nothing left. No magic. No organs. Nothing will be left but a emptied out husk of what was once the Magister nd the Arcania.

Gevurah shudders with pleasure as she watches the scarab slowly consume the worthless Aziruss. She places a hand over her racing heart and resists the urge to jump in the blood bath. Instead, she stares at Daath in search of any signs that for him this is personal. She hopes it is. Once Daath has had his fill of revenge and is ready to leave, she leaves with him, slowly walking down the dungeon hall as the magister’s wailing fades behind them. “You may have had a point about Arcania being too weak.” She glances sidelong at Daath to gauge his reaction.

Daath looks more disappointed, or rather disgusted, as he leaves the cell. Aziruss starts to scream such a morbid chorus of pain as the curse starts it's purpose, but Daath pays it no mind. Gevurah's words reach him, and he replies to his wife. "It's lead by fools who care only for the title it bestows , they care little of producing quality mages. And because so, because they choose to allow themselves to focus on personal legacy, Trist'Oth suffers." Here, he'd stop and look at Gevurah, her beauty enhanced by the tortured screams of agony coming from the cell. "You desire a strong people, yet your kingdoms institutions are lacking." He dare not press further, simply because he dare not risk destroying their newly formed relationship. "Lady Gevurah. You are my Matron by choice. I play no games. I serve by your side and as part of your house. And I'd rather see your people thrive and grow than see myself or any other stifle that growth. And Aziruss, and many like him, have always done so." He shakes his head and he finishes with. "Your kingdom deserves that best. You deserve better from your mages."

Gevurah weighs Daath’s proposal and tilts her head slightly from side to side as she weighs the options. Yes. No. Maybe. “After what happened with the lizards, I cannot say you are wrong. But you’re a product of the Mage’s Guild and forget how things work down here. I cannot risk Arcania becoming more powerful than D’Artes, and neither can you. This is your house now and our survival depends on a careful control of who gains what power. No single institution in Trist’oth can ever surpass ours. If you can walk that fine line between a strong Arcania and a stronger D’Artes, then go forth and make better mages. Just don’t forget the risks. Control who reads what.” She eyes Daath warily as she considers that he may not yet fully understand how precariously power balances in Trist’oth. “When it comes to arcane power or political power, make no mistake that political power is greater.”