RP:The Druid's Request
Part of the Rest in Pieces: Vailkrin! Arc
Summary: Artia comes to Vailkrin in search of Larewen. She has a favor to ask, and in exchange promises the necromancer her life and loyalty.
Hanging Corpse Tavern
This once-timber tavern has been rebuilt in sturdily vitrified blackstone and imbued with powerful protective magics that prevent occult fire and several other potentially harmful spells being cast within its walls. No effort has been spared to make what might otherwise be a bleak interior comfortable. The bar is made of polished stone with an oaken inlay, the space behind filled with a bustle of attractive barmaids, sundry barrels and a dazzling array of coloured bottles that glint in the light cast by a large wrought-iron candelabrum suspended from the ceiling overhead. Here, the one-eyed Steadman stands, ready to take orders for food or drink. Beyond the bar, stout tables are firmly bolted to the floor, though the high-backed chairs are freestanding. The hearth is a true feature, seeming to be cast from black lava into the shape of a colossal, laughing goblin's head, its maw gaping wide and deep, usually containing a merrily crackling fire. A delicious scent of roasting meats drifts in from the kitchens and a winding staircase leads to rooms upstairs. To the south are set cellar doors, usually kept locked unless a special event is taking place. The walls are hung with thick, richly woven tapestries depicting persons and events in the history of Vailkrin and the Vampiric race. There's also a notice-board near the entrance, where one may leave messages. Unobtrusive but ever-present are the security staff, staunch fighters ever ready to toss troublemakers out.
Artia was beyond nervous about meeting with Larewen, but she needed to make sure that the child growing inside her would always be safe and protected. She knew Larewen to be extremely powerful, and the house of vampires she ran. A fool would challenge the house, it was her best bet to keep the baby safe. Off from Frostmaw to the city of the dead she went, worn and tired from the long walk. She wanted to check with the tavern and see about renting out a room for the night. If Larewen was there it be a huge bonus, but if not at least she was in the area to meet with her. Opening the door she quickly moved up to the bar ordering a glass of water and food, the child was demanding on her eating a lot lately. Taking a seat at the bar, before she looked around she wanted to get some energy back.
Fortune must have been favoring the druidic witch as she traveled through the City of Eternal Darkness, for when her gaze swept the establishment, she would find herself, coincidentally, sitting alongside the very necromancer she sought. Larewen had managed to smooth things over with Steadmen since her last visit, likely with a lot of coin. A bandage, darkened with something black on the left side of it, was wrapped tightly around her neck. Her dark hair was drawn up into a bun, with a fedora and veil pinned carefully to her head. She wore her usual garb: black-leather boots, emerald bustle gown, and black, elbow length gloves. On her left hand, above the cloth, she wore an emerald-studded, obsidian banded engagement ring. She was swirling a glass of bloodwine and the coppery vintage stained her pale lips. Most oddly, her veins were visible: an inky blackness just beneath her flesh that seemed to writhe.
Artia 's clothing was that of a strapless dress with no shoulders and an open back, covered only by a translucent purple fabric. With a sweetheart neckline, detailed in purple thread if vines. The bottom is a wide, detail affair and with layers of that translucent fabric on top of it to help fluff, so the dress isn't just straight. The whole dress is a deep royal purple. Embroidered along the skirt are organic squiggly circles emulating the texture of coral in a softly-glowing pink thread. The front of the top has its fabric folded and shaped artistically to form that ever present trilobite logo, though it's a three-dimensional folded shape. But there was no hiding the honey dew sized pregnant belly she had now, once she took a drink her stomach moved from the child's excitement. Looking over she saw Larewen, almost startled as she didn't even notice her there. A soft voice escaped between her plump ruby lips, "Larewen...is it okay if I remain seated beside you?" She hoped it was, as she didn't really want to shout out what she wanted to speak to her over.
Larewen turned her head slightly, mismatched eyes fixating first on Artia's belly, then her face. The left eye was different from her right, which was clearly her own. Rather than sharing that dark, brown hue, the left eye was a startlingly familiar silver: Irenic's very own eye, actually. A dark brow arched beneath her veil, which, given Artia's proximity, would be sufficiently clear enough for her to see through it. "I can't say I would be bothered to decline your request, given the fact you've walked into a viper's nest while in less than best shape. Your blood smells absolutely delightful, and the little one within you is no less fragrant." Her lip curled into a mocking sneer.
Artia was pleased she at least smelled good, that could make it better for later on. But would also help the deal she hoped, "Larewen, how have you been?" She was use to vampires, because of Daermon. But she knew coming into an undead city with her hormones raging along with being a walking blood bag was dangerous. But Artia needed to do this, "I was wanting to meet you and maybe speak about making a deal? I know I sound crazy, and seem crazy but I really wanted to see if I could see if you want to make a deal." Artia was nervous. and it most likely showed, grabbing at her cup of juice. Not noticing the chip in it, which cut her finger making blood from the flesh to drip along her glass.
In a matter of seconds, the scent of Artia's blood flooded the establishment and the patrons that were present halted in their conversations. It was an eerie silence, one that could make a person's skin crawl. That silence was accompanied by the turning of eyes in Artia's direction, eyeteeth bore and tongues salivating. The elf's head turned to regard those around the pair and a sudden flood of unholy energy, not harmful given the enchantments on the establishment, swept over the room. It was a warning, from one blood-sucker to another. When the necromancer spoke, the coldness of that silvery voice served to reinforce the silent warning to the others, though her words were directed at Artia. "A deal?" she echoed, her nostrils flaring and mismatched eyes fixating upon the bleeding appendage. The wound in her neck continued to leak that ebon ichor, though most of it was caught in the poultice Pilar had packed into it. A gloved hand reached out for the witch's, seeking to snare the limb by its wrist. If successful, the elf would draw the bleeding finger to her mouth and suckle the crimson liquid off of it whilst she waited for Artia to elaborate.
If Artia had her powers she would have been able to sense the dark magic coming from Larewen but she did not. When she noticed the gloved hand coming forth, she moved her wrist to meet it half way. "I know your coven is frightfully strong, my husband is either dead or among the kidnapped mages. I can't sense him, so I need additional help in protecting my child." Artia reach over and grabbed Larewen free hand placing it on her stomach where the child could be felt moving. "If you agree to protecting my child to the day true death claims him or her, I will let you sire me. I will serve you, be an Apothecary for you. But only after the child is born and no longer needing my milk to eat. Until then, I will let you feed from me anytime you want. Just not enough that could harm him or her." She then moved the hand from her stomach up to rest on her large swollen chest so she can feel the heartbeat, "I will let you stop my heart, in exchange protection over my child. And help me give Irenic back his memories. That is all I ask, I can even move in with you if you desire it." She would wait for her to reply before she continued on.
Larewen jerked her hand back the moment she felt the baby kick, effectively preventing the witch from bringing it up toward her heart. It was not unlike the moment a child's hand touches a hot iron, the way in which she reacted. In fact, it was almost as if the elf was repulsed by the feel of life within Artia's body, and though not quite the right word, it was close enough. "Your child might very well live a long time, Artia," the necromancer said, unable to keep the bitterness from coating her words. "That alone is a tall order. I also cannot guarantee the recovery of this Irenic's memories. I would have to meet him, explore the depths of his mind, and then determine whether or not it is feasible. I have been offered servitude in exchange for far less."
Artia sighed, "He also goes as Edlin, he was my fiance before and I was lied to told he was dead. " She almost pointed out the eye, but that be rude. "I know I am asking a lot...but I am offering so much in return. I'm offering giving up my council spot in Larket, my life in Larket. I am offering all that I am to you, I..-" She paused, and pointed at the topaz. "This cursed gem took all my powers away, I do not know how long it will be till I can figure it out and get them back. I can't even defend myself, which is why I am offering this to you." She pinched her finger to add more blood to drip from the cut, offering it to her this time.
Larewen resisted the desire to bite down on the proffered finger, to even take it into her mouth again though every fiber of her corrupted being hungered for her lifeblood. When she offers the name by which Larewen knew Irenic, the necromancer's features darken considerably. A low growl rumbled in her throat, almost possessive in nature. "Edlin's memories are not yours to seek," came her words, icy in nature. "Not anymore. Were it not for my own hand, he would be dead." She raised her hands, lifting her veil back and tucking it over her hat so that those mismatched eyes could fixate upon the witch. It was by the guidance of the silver one that she was able to meet the witch's gaze. Her brown one, augmented by Daath, now realized what was off about Artia, even as the witch explained it; there was no aura of magic to behold. "I am aware of how much you cherish your position within Larket, but I do not value that sacrifice nearly as much as I do my darling bird. I can offer your child protection upon her birth, and I can likely unweave whatever damage that--" she gestured to the topaz "-- has wrought upon your abilities, but return Edlin's memories I will not. Not while I still have need of him. He suffers enough distractions as it is. If you're wishing to have them returned, I can only assume that it will change the way he behaves: that is not beneficial to my own goals." Her tongue pressed against a fang as she continued to resist seizing the woman's finger. "My counter offer is this: your child's protection and the return of your magic, in exchange for your taking position in House Dragana as a fledgling and your aid in my political aspirations."
Artia being told her to flew, but she remained sitting putting a hand to the pregnant belly. "I'm grateful for him being alive Larewen, he has become my friend. Reason I ask for his memories to be restored is the terrible headache he gets, they transfer to me as his memories. And the fact I still care for him, I did not mean to insult you." Artia sat still, and breathed slowly as she listened to the rest of Larewen words. "If you could help me with this cursed gem I'd be so much in your debt, I've even met a death mage who offered to help me with it. If it moves from my flesh it begins to drain my life, and if it touches my flesh immediately it gives it back. I'm not use to not using magic, having no magic has been very dangerous. At times I can't even hear the trees..it's depressing." When she heard the counter offer, she nods. "That is fine with me malady. It is a fine offer you give me."
Larewen seemed pleased when Artia accepted her offer, though it might be hard to tell given her expression. If she was saddened or concerned by the knowledge of Irenic's headaches, it did not show. A dark brow lifted in lieu of the mention of a death mage, and to this the necromancer tilted her head. "Who is this mage?" she asked, letting the topic of the topaz take second place for the time being.
Artia finished off the juice before she answered her, "His name is Draiman, and he tried to offer me things I'm not sure he could even try to give. He asked me to help him with the undead city, I do not know his race as without my power I can not read auras and tell it anymore. He tried to use my dead twins to persuade me, very talented man. I fell asleep and woke up to him near me. I do not believe he knows of you fully, he promised me a throne at his side."