RP:Look Who Decided To Show Up
Part of the Surface Tension Arc
Synopsis: Vakko's back! Looking for work, and Gevurah has a job for him up in Frostmaw as a thorn in the giants' sides.
House D'Artes
Gevurah hasn’t left her room in days. She is weak and it’s best if Trist’oth doesn’t know it. Slowly she is recovering, as is the guest of the house, Matron Laezila, squirreled away somewhere else, healing. Gevurah paces around her private chambers, lifts her knees above her hips, stretchers her arms. Everything is therapy. She is so weak that to stand is exercise, and so she stands as much as her body permits. Her guard have been instructed to refuse all visitors, except those absolutely necessary in the management of the war with the elves. Those she will receive in the family’s common room, reserved for close-knit guests and allies.
A female drow, Regal in appearance dogging the finest of silken robes, those jet black robes are covered ever inch in arcane runes, she seemed to be a made of great accomplishment, a house D’Artes insignia hangs from an adamant chain about her neck, bouncing slightly with ever determined step towards the high priestesses private chamber. But those steps come at an odd timber as that powerful stride is hampered by a limp that affects her left leg, though the seeming injury does little to hamper the power she seems to exude. Following her closely is a soldier of house D’Artes, his armor and piwifi is scuffed and tattered slightly, clutched in one hand was the famous drow death lance, and in the other a elven sword, elegant and beautiful in its polished wooden scabbard adorned with gold vine and leaf patters. The mage comes to a sudden stop right before the door, her eyes narrowing slightly at the assassins on the guard. “I am Xel’Amedra D’Artes, I need to see the high priestess with news from the front.” She did not even look to the assassins guarding the door as she spoke. And her calm could not be diminished out of hand as she may very well come from a branch of the main blood line, she has the look enough. The soldier following moves to stand respectfully behind his apparent charge. “My escort will be giving his report to the mistress as well.”
The family isn’t very big, and no one has heard of a Xel’Amedra, but guards have a fast turn-over rate during a war and these two goons are new. They don’t want to get this wrong. So they knock on the door. One slips in. Silence. A couple minutes pass. The guard exits back to the hallway then leads Xel’Amedra and her escort to the family room. They are offered wine. A few minutes later Gevurah appears in a sumptuous black fur throw over a long black dress, form-fitting and simple. “Who the hell are you?” Her snap lacks its usual bite, and she’s too tired to glare properly. She rubs her temple as she realizes the new guards are fools. But the guests aren’t attacking her, presumably, and they made themselves known, so perhaps they are allies. “Speak fast before I throw you in the dungeon.” She addresses Xel’Amedra and hasn’t given Vakko a second glance.
Xel’Amedra passed between the guards without a word, thought she did give a slightly angered huff as she passed them, noting that it took too long for them to admit her. The guard passed through with a slight nod of his head, those who guard the noble family are ranked higher than common soldiers so he had to show his respect. As the chamber was closed the guard would take his place behind the pacing Xel’Amedra who seemed rather frustrated and seemed to be growing more agitated with every passing second. When Gevurah entered and leveled her demand a look of pure rage passed over the beautiful ebony features of the young drow mage and she moved as if to lash out at the high priestess. She made a single limping step before the blade of the death lance came to rest lightly on that exquisitely robed shoulder. “Now now, we talked about that.” The voice was slightly muffled by the mask he wore but if the high priestess could think hard she would be able to recognize it. “I guess we will have to talk about it again.” With the encouragement of the lance the mage would step to the side allowing the apparent guard to step forward. The hand holding the lance would pull it from the mages shoulder and give it a deft spin before resting it across his shoulders as his head tilts to the side ever so slightly as if apprizing the woman before him. “My dear Gevurah … you look terrible.” He makes no move to remove his mask, rather interesting to see how she would react to it all.
Gevurah jerks her head back at the mage’s advance and immediately a translucent, pale blue sphere surrounded Gevurah protectively. Already Gevurah’s left hand crackles with black energy, but Vakko intervenes just as quickly and calms his pet. That voice is instantly recognized. Gevurah straightens her spine and neck and glares down at Xel’Amedra. “Even tired I could obliterate you.” Then to Vakko, “Where the [drow f bomb] have you been?” She walks over to the credenza and pull out from the cabinet a bottle of wine. She pours herself a glass and sips it, offering her guest none because this is the good stuff and neither of them are deserving.
Vakko could not help but laugh as the high priestess uses such language. “Now, what would the poor acolytes think if they heard their mistresses speaking so.. common.” He knew the remark would anger her, but he could easily tell that she was currently a shell of her former glory, though she was healing. He taps the butt of the lance on the ground and the weapon simply vanished, he then pulls back the coif of his mail and pulls the mask off looking at it with a look of slight disgust before throwing it over his shoulder. “I have been about my mistress, collecting things and listening to people.” When he spoke of collecting he looked to Xel’Amedra and smiled. “You know she had a little right to be upset. She did used to be of your house. A budding young mage that was left to die by her fellow D’Arthes soldiers after having her hip shattered in combat.” The mage glared at him and that only made him smile all the more. “I have a few more, you know wars leave a lot of half dead baggage that just needs a little tender care.” He then slowly holds out the curved elven sword to the high priestess. “A gift, belonged to a powerful elf, don’t ask me his name. did not catch it through the blood filled mouth.” He would wait quite still for her to move, not wanting to seem dangerous at all to the wounded priestess, wounded animals are the most dangerous after all.
“Well, maybe she shouldn’t have been so weak,” says Gevurah without looking at the mage. Standing tires her easily and she slips onto the chaise, leaning against its raised and cushioned end. Her body curls in on itself. Rarely would she allow anyone to see her so weak, but she’s been on a winning streak as of late. A little rest and relaxation does little to mar her image. Indeed, even her current state comes on the heel of yet another win. As Vakko hands her the sword slowly, she extends a cautious hand, then pulls it onto her lap. “And what do you want in exchange for this ‘gift.’”
The mage bristles again but quiets down instantly at the raised hand of Vakko, she again narrows her eyes at the male but remains in her place. “Then as she for all intensive purposes is dead to your house you don’t mind my keeping her. She will be good in fleshing out my little band of merry drow. And I only and finding common trash or cast offs from the houses. Nothing that can impede the grand designs of any of the ruling houses.” He gives a slight incline of his head bowing to his betters like a good commoner should. “and as for the gift, it is just that. A gift, I do not look for anything from house D’Arthes, nor its powerful high priestess. I am simply showing a gesture that I have not forgotten the mandate that you had put before me.” Clicking his heels together he dips into an ever lower bow, this one more flourished and slightly mocking, he must after all get his jabs in where he can.
Gevurah shuts her eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. Vakko’s skill in battle has always been impressive, but impressive warriors aren’t as rare as impressive political minds and strategists. She says nothing, letting him simmer in her silence. Normally she would dismiss him, but perhaps her exhaustion has eroded her facade and engages in more genuine, raw dialogue. “You don’t like me. You don’t like my House. That’s fine. I don’t have to be liked to get all this.” Her finger lifts and whirls around to indicate the compound. “So what’s your angle? Why the gift, why the request for audience, why the theatrics. Cut the bull and tell me what you are after.Or are you after nothing? Are you dull, bored, and boring?”
Vakko stood in his own silence for a long moment, simply eyeing the broken high priestess that smile staying on his face, he then takes a small step forward. And in that step the common soldier armor that he wore was simply gone. Replaced by his fine black coat engraved with all those helpful runes and the enchanted sabers strapped to his hips. His hand slowly slip behind his back, clasping together lightly as he looked now like a some noble from another house with his fine weapons and armors. “I have been around for some time mistress Gevurah,” His voice showing no sign of fear or intimidations that would come from some normal common drow in the presence of one of the most powerful drow alive. “I have no issues with house D’Arthes.” He slowly looks around taking in the chamber and picturing the vast complex outside the walls. His two tone eyes then fall back to the priestess. “And I can speak honestly when I say I rather like your company. For as much as a drow can honestly like anything.” That thought brought a slightly chuckle, “You asked for my angle, well I do have one. I have always had one. All drow have an angle lest they not be drow.” He looks to Xel and smiles slightly. “I am collecting the castoffs from the houses and the ones who have skills from the common streets to work for me. I am a mercenary and I work for those who pay me, thus my group works for those people who pay me.” A hand comes to rest lightly over his heart and he bows in a purely genuine manner. “A house of nobles could use a shadow army to handle their work that would be politically damaging to be named alongside, or is this simple common drow wrong?” those two tone eyes fall to the lounging high priestess, that slight playful smile still shadowing his visage.
Gevurah lifts a brow as Vakko changes attire through some magic. She glances at Xel to see if it’s coming from her. Vakko has picked up some new tricks in his absence. “Yes, of course, though the great houses all have their shadow armies fairly well hidden. Sort of the whole point of it.” She sips her wine then clicks her tongue. “But I could find use for you, if it’s mercenary work you’re after. I need a group of skilled drow to infiltrate Frostmaw. The giants have allied themselves with the elves. Weaken them from the inside. If you can kill their military leader, Hildegarde, then all the better, but anything that would cripple their army would earn you coin. Report back any intelligence you come across.”
Vakko could not help but laugh as she issued the order. “You wish to pit my against the silver dragon knight of Frostmaw, I do rather enjoy your style.” Dragons are hard enough to deal with on their own, it will help that Hildegarde was seldom in her dragon form, and that makes them a little easier to remove from the game. He would much rather face an army of giants by himself thought, though the fact that his smile was growing was proof that he was interested in the idea of the job. “She is rather young in the ways of the world, I will work on her and send a few of my agents to harass the giants, it should be rather fun.” He looks to Xel and gave a slight nod. The mage growled at him but did as was bade of her. tracing a circle in the air before her she mutters a few arcane words before pressing the palm of her hair to the center of the circle. The center fell away leaving only a pit of darkness, a wave of her hand caused the portal to grow large enough to admit herself. She gave one last look back, Vakko smile. “She will not eat me.” He made a hand gesture as if dismissing a stray cat. The mage huffed and stepped through and vanished. “Do you know the forces I will anger if I do kill Hildegarde? You could always kill me yourself. Unless you like your little pet.”
Gevurah has had enough of this visit. As she walks towards the only exit in the room she waves a hand dismissively at Vakko. “Be creative. Take out supplies. Burn their wares. Slit an icey throat. I don’t care. If you want me to like my pet, bring me a dead tundra.” She sets the now empty glass on a table near the door. “The guards will see you out.”