RP:Tene, the Lich & Undead Philosophy

From HollowWiki

Part of the Venturil's Bane Arc


This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.


The Thorne Estate, Vailkrin

Tiphareth makes his way through the perpetually darkened pathway toward his intended destination, finally nearing the Lady Tenebrae's manor with sweeping footfalls more akin to gliding than mundane paces. The expansive gates to the south mark the obvious entrance to her abode, and he approaches carefully, fully expecting some form of defensive curiosity born from the twisted mind of the master Necromancer.


The Thorne Estate's front gates were frazzled, really out of sorts, what with all the magical explosions and half-elves escaping their clutches.. The iron edifices therefore stood firmly and crankily closed, and did nothing more than appear to rust quietly in a state of absolute locked-ness as the drow Lich stood before them. Even though he was a bit scary.


Tiphareth contemplates bypassing the gates through use of some masterful arcane means, as he did indeed abhor obstacles, but instead chooses a more cordial course of action. The Lich calls out, though his words echo not like the vocalizations of any mortal creature, rather radiating outward in a permeating pulse that reverberates through the air with haunting deathly groans. "Lady Thorne, you have a visitor." The dark visage of Tiphareth remains stoic outside the gates, waiting patiently for some response from within... after all, he had nothing but time.


The gates let out a metallic groan, both at the stubborn persistence of this bony interloper, and to shout a sentinel's warning to the rest of the home's defensive measures, which indeed came crawling, slithering, flying, stalking on spined limbs and fluttering loosely in the absent breeze toward that entry. It was an orphanageful of disturbed children's worst nightmares then, which first greeted Tiphareth, snouts snuffling and tentacley extrusions wending through the bars.. Tene herself had been picking some of those white lilies which flanked the western windows, and appeared - fortuitously, but for whom was probably uncertain - around the corner of the house, her arms laden with said flowers. A bright, sharp smile crossed her lips, and she whispered a word that shivered the lot to their core. The gates did not dare whine as they unwillingly swung to, opening the passage for the drow. Tene waited for him a little way along the path, calling, "Just in time for tea!" while her monsters and ghouls melted back into the unseen reaches of the garden.

Tene's horrible barrow-horse, however, remained nearby, its slushy red eyes fixed on the drow.


Tiphareth raised his eye brows in an unseen gesture behind the veil and helm about his face upon seeing the mish-mash of misfit creatures which called the Lady's estate home, though it seemed he paid them little mind as he begins making his way toward Tenebrae, following her lead upon the path as he returns comment in her direction. "Tea you say... I do sometimes miss the minor pleasures of smoke, spirit and drink... they are just not the same in my current... state. It's been too long Lady Tenebrae, I hope Vailkrin has welcomed you home well." Carefully he continues to match her direction, though always wary when within another's domain.


The muffled clip-clop of the barrow-wight's cloven hooves sounded behind the drow, its baleful gaze still set on Tiphareth. Tenebrae waited for the Lich to catch up to her, and paused to tuck a lily into the wight's mangy mane, patting its half-skeletal snout. "I think Tinker likes you," she said, her smile unabating. It was not the case, but the wight would not correct her, it merely glowered and stood still, as she led Tiphareth over the porch and into her tastefully decorated front parlour, chatting all the while, "It's been ages! And I think you'll enjoy this tea - I've been working on a means to bypass the whole.. lack of taste thing. Bit of an experiment, really..." and so on, ushering the Lich toward one of those faded scarlet chairs. He might have noticed the diadem on her brow, the way she brushed it with her hand now and then, as if it irritated her somehow. Shoving the lilies into a vase, Tene herself took a seat. The low table between them was set with a full high tea, tiny sandwiches and iced cakes, a large china pot steaming from its spout. The Necromancer set out an extra cup, "Sugar? And was there something in particular you wanted to see me about?" There usually was - Liches aren't exactly famed for being social gadabouts.


Tiphareth nods in mock agreement of Tenebrae's comment regarding Tinker's affection, "Indeed, I can tell he's enamored." The Lich, being a curate of Vakmatharas, and spending countless hours both in worship of the Dark God and poring over the Forsaken Book of the Dead, was rather attuned to his energies; he'd both felt the presence of her diadem and her altered state, though chose not to mention it just yet. "As for my reasonings, there are a number. First and foremost, I had not yet made the trip since your arrival, and figured it only proper to drop by, though in addition I wished to speak with you on matters of our respective Guilds... among other things... and no thank you, I've never been one for overly sweetened beverages." The patron didn't yet take the offered cup, but did take a seat across from the necromancer.


Tenebrae's best china tinkled fetchingly as she arranged a cup of dark tea for both, no milk or sugar, the aroma of which was reminiscent of the local wildberries. The non-lethal ones, that is. "Well, it's lovely to see you again, Tiphareth. I'd have come to see you myself, but..." her lips closed, and her eyes took on the whites-shown tilt of a slightly naughty pup. ".. I was busy," she added feebly after that. pushing the delicate cup and saucer toward the drow. How much to tell him? She'd never been good, for some reason, at lying to Tiphareth. But she -was- adept at changing the subject: "Guilds, you say? My own has grown substantially, I must say. It's doing very well. How is your own?"

She was watching Tiphareth's cup perhaps a little too sharply than was mannerly, eager to see whether that flavour translated to such an utterly dead tongue.


Tiphareth leans back into his seat, an old habit from his mortal days he'd yet to shake, though appearing rather comfortable, such concepts were indeed irrelevant to him. "I see you have been busy..." an extended hand waves slowly up and down in a gesture to her form. "And that you've returned to a more proper state; no doubt the reason for your long absence. I am glad the Necromancer's Guild has been doing well, it was floundering without your guidance. I can not say the same for the Mage's Guild proper, things at the top are potentially in a state of upheaval. The Archmage's realm has fallen, word is Rheven didn't even pose a defense... some say he even stepped down voluntarily. I've not yet been able to find him, despite no small amount of searching. On top of that, such a monumental loss of one's realm may be viewed as a sign of weakness by others. There are already those vying for the Archmage's position, even before this event. Have you heard from the Archmage recently?"


Tenebrae sputtered out her last sip of wildberry tea, spotting the drow-Lich's robe and staining her chin pink. "Rheven?" she said, mopping at the lower portion of her face with the back of her hand, "I.. well. You see..." she grabbed a doily and leaned across the table to dab at his hem, "Forgive me.. and I have, as a matter of fact, seen the former King of Venturil recently. He has indeed abdicated - terribly wearying decision, it would seem. Though as I understand it, he has no intention of stepping down as Arch-mage." Abandoning her clean-up efforts, Tene blinked softly, her gaze dropping to the sandwich tray. "I am the reason he abdicated," she admitted, with a brief bite to her lower lip. "Or rather.. not me, exactly. More for the sake of Thea, than anything."


Tiphareth seemed not to notice, or at least not to care about the spilled beverage. "Why would he abdicate for her, I had thought their combined power made their union a rather sizable force within the realm, doesn't seem like Rheven to abandon power. Do you know where he has gone? The nature of our hierarchy is teetering from uncertainty about the Archmage's reasonings. I really do require conversation with him before things descend into chaos and I have to start breaking skulls to restore order." The Lich brings a finger to his temple, rubbing it slightly as if he were feeling a pain, were such a thing possible. The stone about Tenebrae's diadem seems to be affecting him just from the close proximity tugging and pulling at his mind in ways he'd not felt before.


Tenebrae was also affected; the diadem itched, but not in a way that could be ameliorated by scratching - the sensation seemed to emanate from somewhere deep in the midst of her brain, and momentarily cause her vision to blur. A dull glimmer, just the thinnest sickle of illumination, gleamed from the Eye, as if it would taunt the Lich. "He wants her to be happy," she replied, somewhat shakily, "Their marriage was.. you know.. he was never there and..." But the Eye was demanding her attention - just as well, really, as she would have had difficulty keeping Rheven's location to herself, without outright lying. "He's resting somewhere, I believe. And will be joining his wife soon but if I see him first, I shall certainly tell him that you... Oh dear.. Tiphareth, this thing. On my head.." she winced, tugged at it. The diadem did not budge.


Tiphareth removes the veil and helm from about his visage, the ensorcelled mind flayer skull generally rather adept at blocking out such intrusions; though it was obviously failing outright on this evening. The diadem was not recognizable to Tiphareth, as he'd never laid eyes upon it before, though it's nature was undeniable. Vakmatharas spoke through it with a clarity, simultaneously enlightening and maddening to the mind. "It is... amazing." he spoke slowly. The object of utter death had made him feel more alive than he'd felt in some time. "What is it..." The pain, though striking, reminded him of how fleeting life was, even for those quasi-immortal being such as himself, they were mere moments among the lives of moons and stars.


"A relic.. " Tene closed her eyes as her lips moved in a silent plea for the Eye to give her some peace. Peace was not, however, its purpose; there was no relief forthcoming. "... given to a necromancer long ago. Aranoch the Damned he's called in the Forsaken Book, though even there he's just a brief mention. Some of his rituals survive unattributed, but mostly he was wiped from all record. For his crimes..." the Eye glimmered, its formerly dull gem 'opening' a sliver more as Tene spoke, ".. he was a priest of Vakmatharas, the Chosen One or something. But he was banished to a place outside of the world, and his gift locked away forever. Well. Almost. I found it. Below Venturil, where I found Tinker, too.." the emanations from the diadem forced her to gather herself, steel herself against its cloying whispers and the way it shook her mind like a snow-globe. Her voice was a little less unsteady as she continued: "The shreds of information I have found suggest the gem was forged in the hand of Vakmatharas himself, in aeons past, when the gods still manifested in the realms.. and I found it, Tiphareth. Or rather, I think it found me. It has shown me things.. " Tene swallowed, shaking her head, ".. and it has a purpose for me. Or perhaps.. I am merely the new vessel for a purpose it was meant to engender, all those centuries ago."


Tiphareth narrows his eyes slightly as the stone parts slightly like an iris, the light coming through perhaps not even visible to the uninitiated, though to the Lich it appeared as the untapped brilliance it was. Like a sunlight through a pinhole it strained for freedom, raw consciousness gleaming from behind the otherworldly veil. "I have heard his calls, but never like this." The patron was feeling something rare, the pangs of jealousy tugging at him, he had become a sincere devotee since ascension to Lichdom, and despite the obvious madness it causes, he couldn't help but want for the item himself. "What you've been shown, the black path... where does it lead?"


Tenebrae was already moon-pale; now, she was nearly translucent. "I am not shown the whole. Just glimpses, where I am go next, what I am to do. So many things, Tiphareth, and I suspect that my choices of late have barely been my own. What I do know is, I must master the Burrower.. a creature left behind by Aranoch when he was banished, in Venturil.. It has grown, Tiphareth, beyond its intended span. In fact, it is the thing that has been bleeding the land dry, in its sleep. And it threatens to wake.. " The Eye snapped 'shut', nothing more than dullish gem now, and Tenebrae almost wept with relief. "I have seen wars coming, and the threads of my own fate, insofar as I am meant to build a Temple in which to house the Eye's sibling. A reliquary, around which I shall build my Guild Hall." Which was as much as she was willing to tell him, presently. Tene was not unaware of the effect the diadem had on him, and her next words were chosen carefully, "You know as well as I do, one does not stand in the path of a God and expect to go unscathed, Patron." Perhaps there was a metallic burr to the timbre of that, something sterner than her usual tone when speaking with the Lich. "As you must know, too: your own Fate is tied into this, somehow."


Tiphareth seemed slightly less drawn to the stone as the brilliance suddenly ceased, sealed away once more behind the crystalline prison. "I too have been tasked with building a Temple, upon the very foundation where the Spider Queen's abode once stood within the Underdark... work is already underway to fully supplant the old structure with the new." The tone in Tenebrae's voice, was indeed noticeable, and were Tiphareth's intentions different, he'd perhaps take it personally. "I've no intention of standing in our Lord's way, his Temples shall extend from ocean to ocean and the depths to the sky, all will come to know and respect the Lord of Death." Tiphareth was unaware what Tenebrae meant by "the Burrower" but figured it was not his path, and so remained aloof about the matter. "I can not deny, I feel your words to be true, that my destiny is indeed tied to your own... and the course for which the relic has laid out."


Tenebrae nodded, somewhat abashed at the way she'd spoken - Tiphareth has always invoked a rare level respect in her, and she had not intentionally breached it. "I no longer question, Patron. Merely wonder, and follow the path laid out before me." She wanted to tell him about Shadowside, and what she'd discovered and become there, but the words failed her. Instead, she offered: "My necromancy has .. I think, maybe.. I may also be walking Aranoch's path in more ways than one. The things I have learned - I have begun to suspect none of it is by mere chance." Her jaw clenched, briefly, ".. nor engendered by my wit alone. I am become something new, and old at the same time. I believe that had I not become so, the Eye would have burned my mind away altogether by now."


Tiphareth nods in agreement and understanding of her comments, "Though our journeys and experiences differ, I too know what it is like to be ushered into a place between life and death by the Dark God's hand, the understanding which accompanies such a journey, and the new outlook it provides one upon viewing the mortal realm once more. You may be correct, as I know well my mind could not endure the gem were it truly residing within my form. You are more yourself now than I have ever seen you Lady Tenebrae, and it pleases me to see." Tiphareth turns to look toward the direction of the Grand Temple of Vakmatharas, "It has occurred to me, that the various temples to the Dark God require unification. It was my intention upon completion of the Underdark Temple to unite them from afar, linking the unholy places to form a tapestry of death upon the land... your mission to create a new temple in the far reaches of the west has only reinforced that desire. It seems.... destined."


Tenebrae said, "I have no doubt that it is so." And there was such conviction in her tone that it smacked of foreknowledge. She offered the Lich a smile, then, albeit wan, "As for me.. how can I say it? I feel.. as if my whole life to this point was merely a silly dream, a wisp of fancy while the threads of destiny were weaving my true course. I have never felt so whole..." She would rather have chewed her own forked tongue off than speak so very candidly to anyone else. "It may be walking the thin knife of blasphemy, Tiphareth.. but I have lately been pondering a.. thing. A thought, just a .. " she shrugged, and looked to him as if seeking encouragement to go on, "..it's probably nonsense."


Tiphareth turns his head back to face the Necromancer once more, "It would indeed surprise me in your current state of salience if any ponderances were truly nonsense. Please, speak of these thoughts." The Lich seemed both supportive and genuinely eager to hear her words. "If there was a time to entertain those thoughts considered "taboo", this would be it... conventional limits do not apply to those such as ourselves."


Tene eyeballed the Lich, as if she would hold him responsible for any sudden bolts of lightning that might strike her. "Well," she began, settling back into her chair, perhaps seeking comfort from its overstuffed cushion, "I have never been what you'd call .. devout, exactly. I have always thought of death as merely the other side of the coin to life. Of course, now I have no choice but to embrace the existence of Gods, and their power to move us about like pawns. But I cannot shake the feeling that the only reason those who are aligned with evil take up the cause of the Death God is because.. well. One cannot really posses a heart attuned to the joys of life, if one is the agent of death.." Tene shrank into her chair a bit. "It seems to me that the enemy of both Life and Death is.. stasis. The state of unchanging, to me that is the true evil, one that thankfully has vast trouble existing in this mostly mortal plane." The Necromancer left off there, except for a few quiet words in closing, "Which is not to say it's impossible. Just difficult." Her gaze dropped to her hands, then, and while Tenebrae wasn't sure she'd made any sense, or said something horribly offensive, she did feel better for having spoken the thought out loud.


Tiphareth smiles slightly, something he rarely does these days. "There is much truth in your words, the uninitiated see the energies of death as an 'ending'. They fail to see that it is just the beginning; death, putrefaction, and decay are what allow this world to exist. They view death as "evil" because they can not understand its true role. Were our Lord's powers not so pervasive, the world would choke itself out with "life" in a matter of generations, trees would blot out the sun, life as we know it could not exist. Stasis is indeed an enemy, which is why his power must always remain. It may seem contradictory for one such as myself to speak of such things, for I represent the very nature of stasis... but such is my role. While all things change, his power must endure... and I serve as an agent of that power, to ensure it's perpetual continuation... to give him the offerings of death he so desires."


Tenebrae seemed much cheered by the Lich’s words and once more shifted to the edge of her seat, visibly relaxing, “So I’m not talking out of my a.. hh. Nonsense, then?” she was smiling, too, now, though the expression was brief before another thought occurred to her. “I think we walk a very dangerous course, Tiphareth – being that we skirt the edges of that coin, neither on one side firmly nor the other. This is what has troubled me so.. but you have set me right, as I expected you would.” She pointed to his untouched cup. “Try the tea? I have failed several times to give the undead proper a small capacity for true taste, with these brews. I’m quite hopeful, about this one.”


Tiphareth shrugs, "Thank you, but I've never had much of a taste for tea, even in life." In reality, the Lich spent many centuries among the Drow and rarely accepted drinks from others, trust was not something that allowed him to live for such a duration. "I will look forward to working with you on our future endeavors, and if you discover the whereabouts of the Archmage, I really must speak with him... I'll have people on the lookout for him about the land, you can send word through any of them if he turns up." The Lich slowly rises to his feet, "I appreciate the conversation, and revelation...I shall be in contact for our future mutual endeavors; but for now I must be going, the disarray in Xalious and beyond has no doubt been growing in my absence."


Tenebrae stood too, clearly a tad disappointed at the loss of a worthy guinea pig for her herbal concoctions. "As you wish, Patron. It has been a pleasure, indeed, to speak with you. And of course.. I will inform Rheven of your wishes. When we next speak." Resisting the urge to cough, Tene walked the Lich to her front door, opening it for him. "Let's not make it so long a time between visits. You'll find the gates.. " she glared in their direction, momentarily, "Quite obliging, on your leavetaking."


Tiphareth accompanies Tenebrae as she leads him to the door, offering a nod and re-adorning his head with the usual accoutrement as he makes his way though the creaking gates into the night. A westward turn may be noted as he heads in the direction of the Grand Temple for a short session of meditation.