RP:The Butcher and the Wizard - a little meat and greet

From HollowWiki

Background

Valentin opens up shop to find the wizard Svilfon impatiently waiting to have his order filled.


The butcher had been busy procuring the required meat, but there was one last thing which needed to be done.


The Butcher and the Wizard


The shop front is surprisingly clean and cold - the chill seeming to emanate from the stones of the floor. Its counters are separated into two sections, and there is a sturdy metallic door at the back which appears to have no lock or handle of any kind.

The first set of counters are lined with meats of all kinds and cuts: the usual lamb, beef, veal, venison in chops, steaks, and racks of ribs. Offal and tripe may also be purchased.

The second set of counters holds cured products: Bacon, Hams, Pâtés, Galantines and Sausages of all varieties - some of the latter which are not recognisable even to a sausage connoisseur. 'Valentin's Mystery Sausage' has been a solid seller over the years for its rich flavour and subtle hint of pork.



A sound of shifting bolts, a hint of sorcery, and a lengthening of shadows precede the metal door at the back of the butcher's shop opening. The proprietor, in familiar gore-smeared apron and duster, wipes his hands on his apron and the door behind him closes shut, once more accompanied by a sequence of bolts returning to their place. Valentin casts his gaze around the butcher shop, then clomps over to flip the card on the door to its 'Open for Business' postion.


Svilfon was pacing outside the butcher's shop with an almost feral look glowing in his pale eyes. In one hand he holds his Xalious wood-wand, the other hand holds a strange bag that is covered in arcane runes. As the sign is switched, the wizard pushes his way through and offers the blue-collared vampire a tip of his hat and a tight smile. "Butcher." He makes his way towards the counter and stands with an air of obvious impatience. "Is my order ready?"


Valentin was not in such a rush, and couldn't give the slightest toss if the wizard was. The butcher tromps back behind the counter with his typical unhurried pace before responding simply "Aye, guv."


Svilfon eyes the vampire for a moment, before nodding his head. "Let's hope you don't have scrawny sheep in Cenril." He lifts the bag and places it on the counter. Though it is not large on the outside, the inside can fit far more than its size promises. "Let us conclude our business, then. I have much to do today."


Valentin blinked with casual indifference "Given your lack o'specifics regardin' what cuts o'meat y'wanted, guv, I figured the only way we'd conclude th'matter agreeably was if you were to come down an' show me what y'wanted done w'the carcasses t'be. That way, I can have 'em prepared in similar fashion each time, innit" The butcher waved a hand at the back of his shop, Valentin's shadow distending until it slipped underneath the plain-featured handle-less metal door. The clack-clack-clack of bolts shifting punctuated the air once more, and the door swung wide to display a staircase down. Without waiting for the wizard's assent, Valentin tromped through the door and into the darkness below, where the coolness of the shop above turned into a freezing cold reminiscent of Frostmaw itself. The darkness was offset only by the muted red glow of necromantic sigils which lined the walls and ceilings. If Svilfon followed, he would see Valentin pushing a direct course through the forest of what were mostly cow, pig and sheep carcasses hanging from meathooks. However, some of the silhouettes were distinctively bipedal.


Svilfon lets a primal smile flash his gaps and fangs in equal measure, before he follows in Valentin's wake. As he descends down into the depths of his work shop, he can't help but let his practiced gaze drift over the various necromantic sigils which alight the way. He can almost feel the lingering death in this place, aside from the multitude of corpses which he's soon weaving through. The cold doesn't bother the vampire at all, neither do the dead bodies of various animals, and some which look rather unanimal like. A small grin tugs at his lips, before he speaks again, "You pick a strange city to set up shop in, butcher." The words whisper around the corpses, before Svil waits to pick his choice of cuts from whatever person Valentin has found for him.


A demonstration of the Butcher's profession


The metallic door, opened by use of Valentin's necromantic power, leads down into a freezing darkness lit only by the glowing sigils, runes, and arcane patterns which line every inch of the large cold room. Those who still breathe will find their exhalations misting in the bitter, freezing cold of this ensorcelled place. Once eyes have adjusted to the reduced lighting, visitors will be confronted by row after row of meat hooks, sundry carcasses hanging from them, dissuading all but those with the stoutest of stomachs from pushing through to investigate further.

Those who press on through the meat-hooked forest of dead flesh, forced by the density of the collection to bump against those gory meals-to-be, will find Valentin's personal workspace. Large stone benches for the primary cuts, smaller benches for the secondary cuts, and a long rack containing knives of all shapes, purposes and sizes. The sorcerous sigils cluster more thickly in this section, and the pattern seems to spiral in around what appears to be a sealed well from which rustling, writhing sounds emerge. Deep inside that oubliette live Valentin's personal swarm of gravewyrms, relocated from the Vailkrin Cemetery for his own dark purposes. The usefulness of the wyrmpit was found in the fact that the blighters would eat any kind of meat, burrowing through it like termites in wood, leaving any bones and other materials largely untouched. Valentin's horrible little pets were the perfect waste disposal for the butcher. One can only shudder to think what would happen to a living creature thrown down into that hellish pit.

Behind other lockless, handle-less doors, are hidden Valentin's study, curing room, and a room specifically for his private necromantic studies.



Valentin grunted as he continued to plough a course straight through the grotesque gallery, carcasses swinging and dancing on their hooks in his wake "Cenril's m'home. Weren't goin' t'set up shop anywhere else. An' business is good." After a minute or two, Valentin reached the cleared area containing his workspace, wyrmpit, and three gagged men chained and hanging upside down above large metal buckets. One of them, a priest, was obviously still unconscious, largely due to the slight fist-caused indentation in his temple, the other two had the rough appearance of Cenril's homeless. "Right guv. These here are y'sheep. Needed three o'them, because folks ain't eatin' too well in Cenril, largely, an' there's a lot o'meat on your average sheep. I hain't done the primary cuts, as y'said you wanted 'em fresh. So tell me how y'want 'em cut an' prepared." The butcher takes out his oversized cleaver from its harness, and appraises the three men with a professional eye for the preparations to come.


Svilfon , despite his obvious impatience, cannot help but spend a moment looking around as they enter the work space. He nods his head to Valentin's words absently, before moving a touch closer to the wyrmpit. The wizard listens for a moment to the sounds coming from within, before deciding, probably rightly, that he'd rather not know what this particular vampire keeps living down here. At least not yet. "Aye," he says to the words about Cenril being his home; it's something the wizard understands perhaps more than most. His pale gaze drifts over the three hanging corpses, before he moves a step closer to them. "They are... fresh." There is an undercurrent of hunger within those words, before he traces a finger over one of the homeless men, tracing out cuts over his thighs, "These," he mutters, before lifting its arm up, ignoring any protests, and weighing the limb. "Scrawny is correct, but I'd take the top muscles from here, the hearts, thighs, and if you keep it," he turns to look at the butcher then, "The blood that comes from them. One must drink with dinner, after all. But if that's not your forte, it doesn't matter..." As he turns to eye the unconscious priest, the vampire can't help but grin a dark smile, "This one I'll pay extra to keep whole. I will take him silently out of the city, and none will know my source. But a priest tastes better when screaming holy curses at you." He nods, "Any other cuts you suggest, I assume you'd know better than I, I will take."


Valentin looked at the points indicated. "A'right. Standard fare it is, guv." The butcher was about to heft the cleaver when the wizard made his query about the priest. "Well, guv, priests cost extra an' all, but not on account o'him bein' a priest, but more on account o'me losing my chance to set 'is head afore the cathedral in the heart o'Cenril for the Archibishop to take a good long gander at." Valentin muses a moment. "Tell y'what. If y'want the priest whole an' unharmed, y'can have him for five thousand gold. The banker's senses are a bit rattled on account o'me having t'shut him up with a fist, but he's otherwise in good nick." The butcher took a moment then to step forward with a faint surge of sorcerous energies about him. Two swift, precise blows, sever the heads of the homeless men. The heads, rather than falling, are pulled away by tendrils of shadow to be deposited by the side of the buckets as the sanguine fluids start to drain noisily from the men into the buckets. Valentin comments "It'll take a small while for th'blood to drain enough that I can make th'primary an' secondary cuts clean-like." The butcher grabs a couple of flagons from a nearby shelf and passes the wizard one "Feel free to have a drink, afore y'go chewin' on some poor sap later out o' sheer thirst."


Svilfon nods his head to the vampire before replying, "Four thousand gold, and you have a deal." As he takes the flagon he nods again, "I think I will." He kneels down a touch to put the empty glass under one of the homeless men, letting it fill with the pouring sanguine vitae, before moving back and taking a deep drink. The feral look leaves his eyes and he can't help but flash a grin, "You do your work well, butcher." He indicates the shadows which seem so easily woven into the man's will. "It is not a school of magic I often see, if at all." Another drink is taken from the flagon, before the wizard carries on, "Can you keep this supply constant. Once a week could suffice - as well as the added business I am sure this will bring to you." He finishes off his macabre drink, before offering the flagon back to the butcher. "As long, of course, as you're discrete. I do not want armies of vampire hunters coming after you, and obliquely me." There is a faint air of threat in his words, but it passes quickly. It is, after all, a reasonable request.


Valentin nodded at the reference to his magic "The umbral tides, guv. One o'the specialties o'the Necromancer's Guild. Shadows an' I jus' happen t'get on well." Returning back to business, the butcher said "A'right. Four thousand. Y'have yourself a deal. Regardin' discretion, I'll keep your supply limited t'those as won't be missed, of which Cenril has a surplus. An' a couple o'missin' folks each week won't cause a stir" The butcher casts a malevolent look at the priest "But me an' the Archbishop, we ain't goin' to share this city. I'm cullin' his preachy bastards one at a time, an' I can guarantee they'll eventually send someone t'find me - but that won't be for a while, an' your supply won't be interrupted even then." Valentin was, all things considered, confident of his ability to deal with the clergy.


Svilfon seems to become more interested in the butcher, then. "I am of the Mage's Guild. Provost Esoterica." He offers the vampire a tip of his hat, his tone becoming a mite more respectful of a fellow guild member. "We have a deal, then. The purse I gave you... When you count the gold within you will find your four thousand pieces within." Another nod, before he speaks again, "We are, of a sort, allies. If they come for you, you can call for my aid. It will be granted. You should speak to Kasyr, also." Of why exactly he doesn't elaborate. "My time is pressing, butcher. And the blood flow is lessening. Prepare your cuts and I will prepare the spell to take me and my..." He eyes the priest with a dark, twisted smile, "meal with me."

Svilfon gave 4000 gold to Valentin.


Valentin nodded "Scleratus of the Necromancer's Guild, apprenticed to the Magister Letum Leifong." Accepting the gold, and leaving the priest to the 'tender' mercies of the wizard, Valentin looked at the two bodies. A surge of will brought two shadow-dragged metal buckets beneath the two carcasses, and Valentin gestured to the buckets filled with blood "Take as much o'that blood as y'want, guv. I'm well supplied." That being said, Valentin pulled a smaller, yet still large, knife from his apron pocket, and began the tedious process of removing the viscera, working from groin down. Eventually, the new buckets were filled with slopping internal organs, noxious liquids, and yet more blood. A wave of the butcher's arm caused the seal to the Wyrmpit to shift open, and the buckets of viscera were then carried away by shadowy tendrils to be upended into the pit. A sudden sussuration was followed swiftly by squelching and chewing noises, to which Valentin merely stated "Gravewyrms. They'll eat anythin' made o'meat". The butcher cleaned and pocketed the smaller knife, then caused the two bodies to hang before him, held spreadeagled by more shadow-tentacles. In quick succession, Valentin draws his oversized cleaver above his head, then forces it down the centre of each body in turn with a surge of vampiric strength, before depositing the prepared carcasses on the large workbenches. "Won't be long now, guv. Time for the secondary cuts, and the meat'll then be ready. Next time, I'll have all o'this done prior to your arrival, with a box o'bottles filled with th'red stuff alongside."


Svilfon pulls from the depths of his robes a strange bottle. It's neck flares open like a blunderbuss, and though it seems filled with a murky liquid, even when turned upside down none leaves its confines. He places on the ground, before lifting a bucket and pouring the sanguine vitae into its top. The entire bucket is emptied, before the next follows suit, yet the bottle never changes colour, nor does it fill. It is linked to the wizard's home in Frostmaw; what is poured into it ends up in a large bottle in his room. When done, the small item is returned to a hidden pocket within his robes, before the wizard begins to speak a quiet series of words in a lyrical tongue. The air just momentarily warms around Svilfon, though it is fleeting and probably wouldn't even reach the butcher, before a dull glow burns into life around the priest. Prepared now for the teleportation, Svil turns back and wanders over to where the butcher has placed the two corpses. He watches the man perform his craft with the natural curiosity of a well-learned man, though he cannot stop himself asking, "Gravewyrms?" For all his extensive study, he has not heard of them before.


Valentin grunted as, with practiced precision, he brought the cleaver down in methodical succession, seperating the limbs at each joint. "Aye, Gravewyrms. Found 'em in a cavern underneath th'necropolis, feedin' on an old dragon corpse. Threw Jolie in a spin. Turned out, they was meant to be extinct - which was how she preferred 'em. Me, I saved a bunch of 'em, an' been breedin' 'em up into a nice swarm. Then I'll release 'em here an' there, an' see how they get on. Vicious things. Like termites for flesh. Kind of like a maggot crossed with a leech, but with lots o' little teeth like a lamprey." Valentin selected a couple of different blades from a rack, then set to the task of seperating meat from bone "Best thing is, I can dump a man in their pit, an' a day or two later all that'll be left is the banker's clothes, bones, an' belongings. Goin' t'get me a glass enclosure, one o'these days, so's I can see the little blighters at work. Ought t'be fascinating." Valentin finished up his preparations, and presented Svilfon with a neat display of steaks, chops, cutlets, and racks of ribs. "All yours, guv. More o'the same next week."


Svilfon listens intently to the man's words, "Interesting... If you breed them for sale, do let me know. I have... a use for a couple... perhaps." Leaving the ambiguous statement there, Svil takes his rune-etched bag and fills it with the neat cuts of meat. "Your work is excellent. A bonus, for the drink, too. Consider it... good will." He flicks the man a small purse, before wandering on over to the priest. He lays his free hand on the man's chest and speaks again to Valentin, "I will return in a week. You have done well." He nods to the butcher, before whispering an arcane word. A thin tendril of smoke appears around the incapacitated priest and the wizard, before both vanish. Often when he teleports there are walls of flame left in his wake, but this time there is nothing but that lingering smoke - he'd not want to disrupt the frozen room anymore than he had.

Svilfon gave 500 gold to Valentin.


Valentin nodded to the wizard "Much obliged, guv." then tilted his head as the wizard vanished. As Valentin tidied up his workspace, he muttered "Handy trick, that." Soon, the butcher would reappear in his shopfront to reopen for business.