RP:Lessons in How to Drow and Vakmatharas

Synopsis: Styx disguises herself as Priestess Obdulia, a noble from a lowly class. She seeks an audience with Gevurah at House D'Artes. Disguised as Priestess Obdulia, Styx requests private lessons by the First Daughter to improve her service to Vakmatharas. Along the way, Styx says a lot of things which drow culture would consider dumb. Amused by this idiot noble, Lady Obdulia, Gevurah agrees to meet twice a month in order to continue to entertain herself with the folly of a lower house under the pretense of genuine instruction. However, once Styx leaves, Gevurah looks into the real Obdulia's house and finds that things are not quite as the disguised Styx reported. When a disguised Styx and Gevurah next meet in the Temple of Vakmatharas, Gevurah confronts Styx about her true identity and Styx reveals herself. Gevurah leads Styx to the Pit of Despair and agrees to instruct her privately at that location. They begin their first lesson.

House D’Artes

Styx waited patiently within the chapel of the First House. Her guise had gone far within the city of the drow - and the kicker was it was as real as could be. Styx's skin was dark purple, almost black and her hair bleach white. Her eyes, however, remained as cold and yellow as always. She wore drow clothes, spoke in the drow tongue. Styx had prepared this separate of her charges given by Gevurah, and perhaps wanted to make a statement. The dark-skinned half elf looked the part of being a drow thoroughly. The assassin didn't wear armor, instead donning entirely cloth attire dyed with iridescent colors that would shine greatly under the drow's natural infravision. Styx had asked to see Gevurah this day, and was promptly escorted to the chapel where she could wait. Styx had previously sent an envoy on her behalf to ensure this visit was no surprise to the first daughter of the first house. Feigning to be the noble she killed was still no small feat, not to mention maintaining her drow disguise.

Gevurah rarely has visitors, even of the noble make, and thus was pleasantly surprised to here she has a guest in the chapel. Surely there has been a mix up and the visitor is here for Weapon's Master Veritas or Priestess Vestiala. Nonetheless, she arrives with her escort donning simpler clothing than that which Styx has seen before. Instead of priestly regalia, the drowess wearing a tight bodice and pin-straight skirt with a slit on either side. Her guard flank her entry, as is their habit. Styx may notice that the younger guard, who had thrown a mushroom at Vakko in the embassy, is now gone and temporarily replaced by a common D'Artes guard. "Priestess Obdulia. What a surprise to see you," she understates. It's been over a decade since she has last seen the real Obdulia. "I do hope you'll make it a pleasant one." Already D'Artes staff have prepared dark-elven wine on a floating disc. Gevurah summons it and gestures for 'Obdulia' to take a flute if she so desires.

'Priestess Obdulia' indeed. Styx looked directly into Gevurah's eyes, almost challenging the drow to link that look in her eye to her true identity. Styx normally wasn't given to imbibing alchohol, but she had to look the part. She lifted the flute, dipping her index finger into the wine to stir it around a little. "First Daughter, it is an honor to meet with you." Styx was careful, she didn't know if they had met before. "I am at a difficult place with my house, and I wish to discuss this matter with you in some form of privacy." Styx eyed the guards with distrust, but this was the drow society. "This is something I want only -your- judgement passed on." She said, in possibly the smoothest drow Styx had ever managed. She inspected her stirring finger, and then sipped the wine with the determination: Not poisoned.

Gevurah stops just short of scoffing at Priestess Obdulia's request. Obdulia's spoken drow is a bit odd, but then again the lower houses probably can't afford proper schooling. Priestess Obdulia is probably trying her best to sound like a dignified noble, but in Gevurah's opinion most of the lower houses are just commoners with a self-appointed importance. Styx is fortunate that Gevurah is so vain. "Priestess Obdulia, you are young and inexperienced in how the upper houses conduct themselves, so I will forgive your presumption that I care about what becomes of your house or your place in it. If you have something to offer the First House, and can convince me of an earnest will to follow through on that offer, then perhaps I will entertain your concern. Though I will give you a free piece of advice: If you want to survive long as a noble, you do not dismiss your guard when a stranger from a rival house appears unexpected and with a keen interest to find themselves alone with you. It doesn't matter if that rival house is ranked somewhere in the 30s, or 40s, or whatever your house may be. I confess I do not know." Her guard stay put.

Styx narrowed her eyes slightly. Timing it just right, Styx dumped the contents of a transformation potion into her own drink. She sipped on it casually and visibly portrayed being completely deflated. "You also know, coming from a house so low, I have absolutely nothing to gain by harming you, First Daughter. First House is too far up the ladder for such a small house as mine." Styx sighed languidly before deciding to getting to the point. It was so against the grain of her natrual, procedural, instinctive character it was nearly painful. "The idea of invading the surface isn't exactly popular." Styx rose. "In truth, I wanted to defect from my house, but I do not wish to be a houseless hooligan. No other house would even speak with me, Gevurah." Styx set down the empty cup, buying a few more hours with this face. "I expect you to decline. To deny a simple request from a humble priestess to tow the line. My house cannot afford a proper education, and I feel a bond reaching through Vakmarathas." Styx gave Gevurah something resembling a smile. "My entire life I am expected to give to Vakmarathas, and to advance my house in this dismal city." Styx sighed. "I feel that I should not owe my loyalty to my house of such lowly station it doesn't matter. That I should be able to follow the God of Death free from these... shackles. A prison without walls." Trying to convey a trapped feeling across to the first daughter.

If Gevurah agrees that the surface war is ridiculous, she doesn't reveal her opinion. It's a good policy for nobles to not publicly disagree with their House's current schemings. Furthermore, Styx does an excellent job of convincing Gevurah she is trapped, but where Styx may have expected sympathy from Gevurah, instead she receives a bit of schadenfreude and a grin. The high priestess loves watching this lowly, very stupid, whiny priestess suffer. It's hilarious and a lovely way to start another dark day in Trist'oth. Maybe she can keep this idiot Obdulia around for entertainment purposes. "Are you enrolled in Magthere whol onhir d'Aphyon?" The priest school for followers of Vakmatharas. Gevurah instructs a handful of senior-level students, and ignores the rest of the student body. "If so, when the light shines on Andon d'Chath's [3pm] on the [Friday] of every [two weeks], you may meet me in the Temple of Endless Death for some direct tutoring." Or, more likely, for a little tutoring and a lot of Gevurah milking Obdulia for the hilariously pitiful stories of the unimportant houses of Trist'oth. "If you are not enrolled, figure out a way to be enrolled. I will not be seen there entertaining the company of a non-student."

Styx was surprised she made it through the entire encounter without Gevurah suspecting a thing out of place, even with those familiar yellow eyes. The transformation potion was good enough, but she had to procure more. This was taking far longer than she had expected. Every two weeks? Styx planned it, in moments and she was silent, appearing as though she were pondering something. Maybe add another charactaristic to this priestess role, Gevurah seemed entertained by Styx's act, as much as it grated on the half orc's nerves. She wanted to show herself to the first daughter, to push it in her face that she would be teaching a surface-dweller, just for a few return laughs. These thoughts and more raced through Styx's analytical mind before she finally spoke. "It must be done at the school?" She said, almost pleadingly. Poor unimportant house is poor and unimportant. Styx adjusted herself, trying to pathetically use sex appeal against Gevurah. Styx knew it probably wouldn't work, but when you have an ass, try to shake it sometimes. She purred like a kitten with her next statement. "Will they be private lessons?"

Gevurah isn't looking for a trick behind Obdulia's identity, and thus she finds none. Styx is lucky Gevurah thinks so low of Priestess Obdulia. She hardly knows her, and therefore doesn't know what is or is not out of character for the priestess. In Gevurah's esteem, that house is glorified commoner scum. The First Daughter rolls her eyes and pulls a disgusted face. "Get out, my audience has ended." She gestures for a D'Artes wait staff to come and escort Priestess Obdulia off the premises.

Temple of Endless Death

Styx huffed a bit as she was escorted from the house. Meeting adjourned. The disguised half or revelled in her small victory as the weeks passed. The house she had infiltrated literally crumbled with Styx's presence. She hollowed the coffers, causing the already poor house to become weak just to afford the entry fee for the school as well as a class for Styx. The charges the priestess school mounted were, to say the least, bordering extortion. Styx didn't care. The house she was pretending to belong to was on the verge of exiling her, but the half orc only pretended that mattered. Weeks would pass, and Styx would be waiting for Gevurah in the appointed chamber. Almost ready to toss the charade aside, Styx's demeanor was cold this time. She thought of how she might approach Gevurah, or how this training session might go. Since the First Daughter was so fashionably late, Styx already prepared a burnt offering of incense circled by Vakmarathas' symbol drawn across the floor in iridescent paint. She was meditating quietly, eyes trained on the burning incense.

"I followed up on your house's affairs after our meeting." Gevurah interrupts 'Priestess Obdulia's' meditation. "You told me that you wanted to abandon your house. My sources tell me that your house is thinking of exiling you." Gevurah's research unearthed a few more interesting facts about the house, and have given Gevurah reason to treat Priestess Obdulia with greater suspicion. She mutters a spell that will enable her to detect lies and focuses the target on Styx. The spell doesn't reveal the truth, but simply alerts her to lies. For example, if the Styx were to say that she has one billion gold stuffed away in a mattress warehouse, Gevurah would be alerted to the lie, but would not learn of the truth about Styx's financial situation. With the lie detector in place, Gevurah begins with the most basic question of all lie detector tests: "State your name."

Styx felt the spell being enacted, feeling the scope of her careless actions. Sometimes, she was too proud to be careful and it might just cost her. She rose from her position before the incense, but which name? Styx gave the question perhaps a little too much consideration, but she also felt the magic tugging at what she would say next. It was an odd sensation knowing the next statement could lead to the end of her life. She didn't realize Gevurah would actually investigate the house of unimportance. She gave Gevurah a long, emotionless stare just before answering the question. "Solaria."

Of course Gevurah investigated the house whose alleged priestess showed up at her doorstep. The mouse that stay in the wall live longest. The one who runs across the kitchen risks penalty of death. Styx's response doesn't raise any flags on the lie detector, but it does surprise Gevurah. She was expecting an agent from a double house, not her hired assassin. "Tell my why you are doing this." Styx's story may have been carelessly constructed, but at no point did she overtly threaten Gevurah's life of House D'Artes livelihood. That buys her what little exists of Gevurah's patience.

Styx spoke truthfully. "I know you would not accept me as I was." Styx said, flatly. "You would not teach me what I wanted to know unless I could speak to you as a racial equal." She called Gevurah a flat out racist, but this was going somewhere. "I feel him, guiding me to you." She said, with a little more emotion than she wanted. "I have done all of this to learn more of His will." Styx paused a bit. "And I wanted to see if I could impress you." Styx fell into a tense silence. Though she still appeared a drow, she was every bit the half orc Gevurah met before.

Pit of Despair

Drow are generally alright with being called racists. She scoffs at the idea that a half-orc dressed as a drow is a racial equal. Please - as if. Still, she understands the motives. "I see." She scans Styxdulia (Styx + Odulia) from head to toe then turns towards the exit. "Follow me." She instructs. Gevurah and her guards lead Styx towards Trist'oth's south west entrance, to the tunnel which connects to the embassy. Before ascending the climb to the Craughmoyle, Gevurah turns west towards the Pit of Despair, where a deep dragon is known to rest. She chants another spell and waves her hand in an arc over Styx and her guard. The spell helps mask them from detection by the dragon. They can talk and walk normally, and the sound will die within a meter radius around them. "Stay more than a meter away from the dragon, don't shout, don't stomp, and you should be fine," she explains to Styx and the few in her guard who are new to this routine. "This is where we will meet for your training. You'll not be seen training under me in Trist'oth. Guard this secret well, and I will continue to instruct you. Do not tell Vakko either. I understand you are close. Never forget you work for me. He is no one of importance."

Styx noted Gevurah's lack of 'being impressed'. She followed the priestess as ordered, feeling as though a great weight had shifted into her favor. She followed Gevurah dutifully, obeying instruction without error until they were safe from the deep dragon. Styx was still in her drow guise the entire way. It was a mediocre quality transformation potion. Styx's overall build wasn't changed, but her face appeared distinctly drow, along with white hair and deep purplish black skin. The disbelief couldn't be measured when Gevurah mentioned training in the embassy. The death lord would be pleased, Styx imagined. "You are correct. Vakko is unimportant." Styx stated, but it didn't push the truth meter. She bowed to Gevurah briefly, tempted to hug the priestess - as much as that would anger her.

It’s hard to impress Gevurah, or perhaps she doesn’t know how to pay a compliment. She was never complimented by those training her in her youth, or by the authority above her in House D’Artes. Tiphareth isn’t a chummy leader; that’s probably why he is still the leader, uncontested. She grins at Styx’s repetition that Vakko is not important. “Good.” Gevurah signals to her guard to give her and Styx some space then turns to her new student. “Tell me what you know of Vakmatharas and what power, if any, you can channel. You have told me you can channel His death through your hands and weapons. Tell me more about that.”

Styx is mindful of the dragon as her disguise starts to fade. Blackish skin was giving way to Styx's natural taupe green hue, coupled with the inverse color of Styx's hair. It steadily changed black. Styx still wore the traditional drow garb, however. "I know that Vakmarathas is the lord of death. That his will compels my blade to find its target." Styx drew a knife for effect. "I am to empty myself to be filled with his power." Styx opens the channel, feeling Vakmarathas' guiding hand. "He gives me strength and speed..." She said, but at the last question, Styx gave Gevurah a rather cold look. "The daggers I lost were my only means to channel through my weapons." She held up the dagger she had in her hand. "Mundane metal will not conduct the power as effectively." She would do much more harm than the effect would allow. "Beyond that, I keep my ears open to hear his voice. I feel close to the god of death, but I know little else. My previous training was more focused on bladeskill, and generally becoming a better assassin. Scripture, if there is one, was foresaken for bladeplay, bow training, knot tying, and a number of other skills that I require."

Gevurah eyes the way Styx holds the knife carefully, and ultimately judges Styx to not be threatening her at the moment. “I see. It’s a shame about the daggers.” She feigns sympathy. “However, if you were able to use Vakmatharas’s gifts at will, then it wouldn’t matter which weapon you arm yourself with. Next time we meet, I will bring to you a small handbook we give all initiates in Magthere whol onhir d'Aphyon. It contains the basic teachings of Vakmatharas, as well as a small history primer that explains the avatars he has used historically, what has been done on a larger scale in his name. Outlined in the primer is also the proper way to sacrifice life to Vakmatharas - dumb beast or intelligent race does not matter, the death is sacrificed the same. Before you can use his divine gifts,” meaning spells, “you must first make your desire to use them known to him. Ritual and habit are the first steps in proving your devotion. You should also frequent his temples, though I do not recommend you frequent the drow temple to Vakmatharas in Trist’oth. His primary temple is located in Vailkrin. There is another in the Nameless Desert. A pilgrimage through that uninhabitable desert would be one way to prove to Vakmatharas that you are devoted to serving him. If you have not visited that temple, then I say your task between now and our next meeting is to undertake that perilous trek.” She pulls from her belt a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill. As she speaks, she scribbles down a basic chant. “At sunset, the death of the day, pray to him as you would normally, then chant this. At first, nothing may happen, but repeat the chant every day. When he accepts you as a priest, you will feel his dark sight. It feels like an enhancement of predatory senses. You’ll feel the life of those around you and be in tune with those nearing death. Powerful priests in His order eventually develop this ability innately.”

Styx paused in her play with the dagger blade. As Gevurah spoke, Styx rolled the handle over the back of her hand, twirling it about almost lazily but she stopped when the primer was mentioned. Styx spoke, in her slightly less broken form of drow (impersonating a poor priestess sharpened her skills). "I cannot read drow." She said, plainly, almost a little sullenly. She waited for the rest of the drow's exposition, however, taking heed to the words spoken. She had ventured into the nameless desert before, what was another trip? The half orc gazed upon Gevurah, somewhat determined. As she described the feeling, Styx had an inkling of the nature of Vakmarathas' presence, having experienced it once before. Styx ditched the dagger as she drew closer to Gevurah. She discarded the remainder of her weapons across the cave floor as she drew nearer to the priestess, standing somewhat close. "I also sense you do not trust me, sister." Sisters in death. "I need your trust." Styx said softly. She didn't want Gevurah holding back just because Styx -might- turn on her. God came before gold. She reached with her hand, as if she'd only approached to receive the parchment.

Gevurah‘s head cants to the side in disbelief of the fact that Styx can’t read drow. Useless. “Then find someone to translate it for you. That’s the tenacity that it takes to prove to Vakmatharas that you want to serve him. Obstacles do not exist. You understand that. I know you have tenacity in your body; you must to become an assassin. You must be just as dogged in this pursuit.” She taps her own temple indicatively, emphasizing that the brain is the new muscle the half-orc must now flex. Orcs aren’t know for having flexible brains. Good thing Styx is only half. Then Styx drops her weapons and asks for trust. Trust seems to be a fixation of the surface. The drow don’t understand its purpose. Why trust? Trust is just blinders to betrayal. “You don’t need my trust. You need my instruction. Earn it.” She relinquishes the parchment, which is also written in drow. Styx will have to get that translated too.

Styx stood there for far longer than she might have. "I only received a taste of what life in the city was like." Styx slid the parchment into a pocket, determined to convince Gevurah she could actually trust Styx. "I don't want you to hold back your instruction because you don't trust me." She said, bringing her thoughts forth. Albeit somewhat improperly, Styx had devoted her life thus far to the dealings of the death lord.

Gevurah tenses as Styx remains in her personal space. Laezila pulls this stunt too. There must be something magnetic about Gevurah. She’s learned to just grin through it, rather than give it power by paying too much attention to it. “If you serve me well, then I would instruct you well for the instruction would ultimately benefit me. And I suppose I am capable of some semblance of trust.” She gestures to her guard. “But it is easier to be at ease when I understand the ambitions and opportunities of those around me. If all you want is to learn of Vakmatharas, then I see no conflict here. If that will be all, then I shall return to Trist’oth center.”

Styx remained closer still, sensing Gevurah's tension. Styx used to be tense like that, jumping at anything that got too close. She remembered feeling incredibly alone, without an ally in the world. "You will never know the truth of alliances..." Styx said as she took a few steps back. "No good assassin works alone." she said.

Gevurah grins dismissively at that pearl of wisdom and sees herself out. “I await news on the winged creature and will see you here in one week.” Styx’s advice does follow Gevurah all the way home. It’s difficult to know what effect it will have on the High Priestess, if any.