RP:The Cost of Death

Part of the Rest in Pieces: Vailkrin! Arc

Part of the In Darkness We Trust Arc

Summary: Drawn by the Shade, Trajek discovers Larewen's predicament. In his Queen's stead, the ghoul is forced to take up the position of diplomat while Larewen is left to figure out a way of to free herself from the spell that binds Corruption.

The Abyssal Forest

Larewen kneels before the forest, bound to it by her own doing. North of her, the rumbling sound of a loose terror can be heard raging through the forest. It resonates a deeply set anger toward the woman whose body holds it captive. The curse emblazoned upon her flesh is active, verdant flames rolling off her pale, scarred skin. Her lips are set into a grim snarl, but she cannot move from this place. Trajek will feel it, feel that something is wrong. Larewen's magic does not exist here; it is depleted. The Shade's curse and older magics that taint the forest are what bind her, twisted, twisted to her own will. The left side of her neck has been gouged deeply with a blade and several wounds cover her body. Her tress is torn in several places and a pool of corruption has gathered beneath her. She is direly wounded and it is only the Shade that keeps her alive, for the Shade desires Vailkrin, and her body has become the prison needed to keep the City of the Damned from falling to Corruption, should the golem break free.

Trajek had been roused from his work in Cenril not by the familiar. It was not the tug on his soul from Larewen, nor had it been any beacon blazing or distressed call from Vailkrin. When he was elbow deep in some poor soul's abdomen, when his newest seed of terror had been placed within a quiet portion of that city, he had heard the command of something far more distant. 'Go.' It had said. It had command. In that single utterance, all the Ghoul needed to know was implanted. He was into the dark lands as quickly as he could be propelled, and his blade was dripping its poisonous ichor the closer he came to House Dragana --- even it seemed to understand, if the unholy relic could understand, that the Ghoul's Mistress was in peril. He was upon the volcanic geyser of powers familiar and foul with his blade ready to strike, for it was not Larewen who was so etched, so carved. But he stopped with his blade poised to skewer...The ends of the necromantic energies that had bound them together searched for any sign of their twins.

Blood oozes from every orifice upon the elf's scarred face, black and rank. Her eyes close briefly, tiredly, as she struggles to maintain her consciousness, as she whispers her thanks not to the God she once served, but instead to the Shade. It is in this manner that Trajek finds her, the blade poised to her back. Another command is issued. 'Stop.' To skewer the necromancer presently would give cause for the wall to fall, for Corruption to be free to wreak its havoc. His nearness is enough, and from her place upon the forest floor, Larewen's voice is heard. "Tra... jek..." she breathes, her voice distant and weak. His eyes would see how the curse has shifted, how it is now etched into her bones, and how it now courses through her freely. She is entirely the Shade's. Nothing of Lady Larewen Dragana remains.

Trajek felt his mind pulled to the entire scene, and his eyeless sockets followed the ley lines of energies and magics from his damned Queen to the area around him. The wall...the curse...What was its purpose? What did it keep out? The beast emerged. It paced up and down the wall's line. It would've struck fear in the fearsome of creatures. The ghoul was on a knee at Larewen's side, where he should have been when this entire fracas had taken place. His freed hand reached for her shoulder, what flesh and muscle were on his fingers rose in wisps of foul smoke. But her curse was his curse. The being that filled her fully was what animated him. And through his touch, through their connection, he opened himself for Larewen to -take.- She was a vampire, after all.

His offer of himself is refused, but not by the necromancer's doing. "No," the elf says quietly. "If you give, I will take and take and take, and the Shade will have us both incapacitated. I twisted the curse, used it as a siphon to create the wall to keep that bound." Her mismatched eyes lift toward the golem as it slams its meaty fists against the unseen barrier. In her chest, that reanimated heart beats erratically and her lungs struggle to function. Every fiber of her existence currently serves as the conduit of that ward, of that unholy energy. "We must find another way. I cannot move from this spot, or the spell will fail." Slowly, ever so slowly, her head turns so that her gaze can attempt to find his. "It is Emrith's doing. He is a traitor to my Crown, and I want him to die for the threat he has nearly unleashed upon Vailkrin. He tried, and failed, to kill me. The Shade saw fit to save me; the Shade approves and He neeeds His King and Queen to fulfill his wishes. I need you to be my Mouth, my Hand, and my Hunter, Trajek. When I am free of this, I want Emrith brought before me. I will rip out his heart, and I will consume him for his crimes."

Trajek ripped his hand from Larewen's shoulder when she refused as rage took hold of his decomposing features. An assassination attempt by her former lover. How the might have fallen in her strained, depleted eyes. There was little he could do about her current state now, and he would be of better service combing through the bodies and minds of the more powerful mages to come to a solution for her current state. But there was only a wall and her own powers keeping it in place between his Queen and the raging golem. To say he was torn would be true were there emotions and not hungers with his unholy presence. "Go. Stand vigil." He left the decision to the weakening vessel.

Larewen inhales and exhales slowly, forcing her lungs to function. The act of breathing, though unneeded, serves as a mild distraction in her current state. "Pilar found me with the bodies of the slave girls. She believes Shishi is at fault for my... shift," she says, her head tilting downward faintly toward her left hand and the emerald, onyx-banded engagement ring that adorns it. "It is in the Shade's best interest that your identity remain unknown until I sit upon His Throne. Pilar's mistake is the perfect... guise. I will wed Shishi, until the time has come for you, my King, to stand beside me. He has agreed to the marriage, as expected. Pathetic, weak." The corners of her lips quirk upward into the faintest hint of a sneer. "Find Iintahquohae. Have her craft a mask to hide your identity, so that you may roam the streets of our City freely; so that you may publicly stand at my side. Have her enchant it with a glamor." Her breath rattles and more corruption bleeds from her. "I need you to serve me now, more than ever. Use my name to send correspondence to the Guild; act as me and summon them here. I have told Khatja to call upon Lionel." A low growl follows the vocation of this name. The elf hates the warrior with a passion, but this is a matter where he might be of aid. "I must play the games of the living, for the moment. Do not let him see you, here. Or any that might keep company with Hildegarde."

Trajek hates those that Larewen hates; he loathes those who Larewen loathes. And, for the time moment, by her decree, he would be Her, for all intents and purposes. "Will. Return. Soon. In. Secret." With his tasks in his mind, he took his leave; he walked backwards from Larewen so she could see him look upon her until he was gone.