RP:The Game Begins

From HollowWiki

Part of the Rest in Pieces: Vailkrin! Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.


Summary: Once again, Goren and Larewen cross paths within the Hanging Corpse and the subject of the ghoul's desire for a new body resurfaces. His ambitions are voiced too, including his desire to land the throne of Vailkrin - which Larewen seizes as an opportunity to bring him under her rule in exchange for what he desires.

The Hanging Corpse

Goren walked into the tavern slowly, looking around as he wiped the blood from his chains, slowly slipping them back into his robes, his body remarkably wellkept compared to his usual state thanks to a steady supply of memories leftover from all the disasters befalling the land, the feeling of being truely full something he was going to miss when the supply finally ended, walking to a table and sitting himself down, flicking open a book and reading from it quietly, the flaming orbs of his eyes scanning over the pages while he continued to search for his answers, months of research seeming to go nowhere.

Larewen sits near the hearth, mismatched eyes fixed upon the door. Curiosity is mostly at the forefront of her mind as she considers her interactions with Redhale and Sabrina the night before: the witches of Larket would be offered a safe haven, courtesy of Vailkrin. It's precisely as she lifts a hand to wave down a server that the memory eating ghoul steps into sight. She remembers their last conversation, his desire to learn of protoflesh still lingering within her mind. It is a thought that has crossed her own mind a time or two. He'd have to work for it, she'd told him: and she still meant that. She calls out to him, through use of necromantic energies that seek to caress the edge of his mind. It's an invitation to join her.

Goren felt the gentle tugs as he looks to her, gazing her over for a moment, the magic that bound them was a powerful link indeed as he rose to his feet, stepping over to her and joining her by the hearth, crossing a leg across the other as he sat silently, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the flames across his body, "Hello again." He says, looking at the dancing lights in the maw of the cast goblin, "Seems this place is a regular meeting place for freaks."

Larewen curls her lip in dark amusement at Goren's words. The server arrives and takes her order: a glass of bloodwine. As an afterthought, she includes an uncooked flank of meat. Elven, to be precise, and when the waiter returns, the dish will be placed in front of the mage. It's a thick cut, drizzled with a plagued reduction. Tainted beautifully, in fact. "As it should be. I've not seen you in quite some time. Tell me, when would you like to begin your training?"

Goren looks at his book and closes it, "As soon as possible." He leans back against his seat and sighs, those flames that usually brighten his visage extinguishing as he just enjoyed the taken memories, making sure to relish every one he had before they were destroyed or transferred, "I do apologize for my abscence. I got rather distracted by all the avaliable corpses . A feast with no victims."

Larewen arches a brow at Goren. "Are victims a bad thing to you?" the elf asks, mismatched eyes narrowing slightly as she studies him. She is reading him, seeking any sign of weakness. Is he another ghoul with heroic delusions? Her wine is brought to her lips and sipped tentatively. "Tell me, in addition to a new body, what else do you desire?"

Goren shakes his head, "Victims are a nessecity, and a waste. They could be repurposed. When I crack their skulls apart, their bodies become worthless as their minds are ruined. Plus, this way I don't have to deal with the afternath, or the fighting over the body to have it preserved." He thought for a moment, looking at her and tapping his armrest, "My desire?" He looks around him, "Why my desires all laylay here. These dens of vice provide all that a man could want, even when dead."

Larewen chuckles softly at Goren and shakes her head. "That can be remedied," she says. "Bodies can be preserved easily enough with magic and thralls are not entirely useless. Puppets have their uses, too." She returns her glass to the table and produces a cigarette which she lights with a flicker of dark flame. "Beyond that. Certainly you don't need a new body simply to enjoy the sins of this world."

Goren looks at her, "I don't think you realise what it is like to be in a corpse so decayed you can't even feel." He grabs a knife and rams it through his hand, pinning it ti the table by his side, lifting up until the knife gave way and the table fell to the floor onxe more, sighing softly, "Barely anything at all." He looks back to his hand and bods, "Of course, I wish to control this city. It's state of disrepair is becoming obvious, and if the undead have their home in decay, who knows what will happen to them."

Larewen's lips twist into a wicked grin, amusement twinkling in those mismatched eyes at Goren's words. A peal of laughter falls from her pale, scarred lips as she leans back in her chair. "You will not control this city," the elf says matter-of-factly. "And with that admission, you have two choices. You can either work with me and attain a considerable measure of power, or you can be unmade. It is your decision, of course."

Goren looks at her and pauses for a moment, looking at her while he thinks, "I suppose not. Was but a large scale desire anyway. My most pressing matter, is a nice body." He looks at her, "So that leaves me with one choice really, though I needed to work with you anyway." He stretches slightly, getting right back into his seat, "So the decision has been made for us already I suppose."

Larewen is pleased with Goren's response but does not dismiss the knowledge of that desire. After all, in her mind it means that his loyalty is about as good as hers: there as long as it is beneficial to him. "A wise decision," the necromancer says sweetly. A moment later, a dark, shimmering patch of air appears between the two and she reaches into it. From within that portal, she withdraws the skull of a rodent. It is blackened and imbued with necromantic energies. A communication device, no doubt. The elf places it on the table betwee them. "For your loyalty, and your service, I can grant you things. Power, influence, even a title of your own; a House of nobility, a place upon my council."

Goren looks at the skull and pokes it gently, seemingly just inspecting it as he looks at her, "Well, if I refuse you'll make sure I don't leave this tavern walking." He remains seated, not used to such formalities as he waves his hand in front of himself and inclines his head, "I suppose I'll have to graciously accept your offer and come under your rule Lady Larewen." He looks at her, it was hard enough to read expressions upon his face with no lips or muscles, but it was nearly impossible when he was trying to keep a straight face, "So how do we make this official? A signature? Blood?"

Larewen settles back in her chair for the second time over the course of this discussion, the rat skull left there in middle of the table as Goren displays his affinity for self-preservation. Despite the faint barb she detects in his words, she flashes him a cruel smile. "Take the skull. It will allow you to communicate with our allies, with those whose best interests are fulfilling my own desires. I reward those that follow me, and I have other ideas of uses for you. Ones I think you might find favorable, actually."

Goren me picks it up and holds it to the side of his head, experimentally looking it over and even giving it a gentle bite to confirm it was, in fact, a rat skull, before tucking it into his pocket, he'd figure out how to use it later, the undead looking back down to his book as he settled once more, "Oh really? May I be privy to this information or is it yet to be decided."

Larewen watches as he bites into the skull, amused by his antics. When he did find time to figure out how it worked, he'd discovoer its magic was fairly simple: all he had to do was speak into it and the skull would relay the messages to other members of the Umbral Council. "There are places I do not have complete influence over that I think would be beneficial to Lithrydel as a whole. I chose necromancy, and Daath left the leadership of the guild to me when he took his departure. The mage's guild, however, is inferior in leadership and tainted with folks whose desire to advance magic is limited by their concern for the dangers associated with the arcane. My position within it is as an Arcane Steward; at the time I was inducted into the Necromancer's Guild, membership within the Mage's was a requirement. Naturally, I have removed this one. Why should one's mastery over dark magic rely on what is granted to them by another group of individuals? I think it would benefit both of us, were you to replace its leader."

Goren looks at her and pauses for a moment, raising an eyeridge, it was rare something had his curiousity, much less his interest, and he took pause for a long while to think, seemingly wriing numbers upon the cover of his book as he mouthed silent words to himself, placing his hand back down upon the cover, "I agree. Having someone under your rule controlling the arcane would provide complete control over the magical means in this world. It could potentially be a power tool for control." He looks at her, "Though do you think mages would accept the rulership of an undead? I am a magical creature, it seems they'd be... Reluctant, to say the least."

Larewen reaches for her glass, cupping its bowl and bringing it to her mouth for a sip of the carmine fluid within. By now, her cigarette has burned out and so she replaces it with another. The acrid stench of tabacco permeates her area. "They will not have a choice, if we play our cards properly; however, I think we can manage to sway them with one form of honey or another. The last archmage was a drow lich, Tiphareth. A shame he's gone, but... all can be replaced. I am willing to aid you in testing your skills, and I'll even speak to the current leader on your behalf. Surely my recommendation will bode well."

Goren nods as he strums his fingers across the surface of the book, "A lich is different to a mere undead, but the tomes in that library may provide knowledge I can use to improve the protoflesh." He rubs his chin, unsure of his own gameplan for how he would run the facility, "Then let us acquire cards to play."

Larewen dips her head to Goren. "By the time I sit upon this throne, I will have access to every bit of information you might require on Protoflesh. To make you Empusai will work in both of our favors, provided your loyalty remains true." It is a thinly veiled threat, a reminder that she is not trusting. The meal that she had ordered when she first sat arrives and the flank of elven flesh is placed before Goren. Brainmatter has been sprinkled upon its sauce. "For you."

Goren gazes at the flesh and nods as he drags a finger through the fluid, shuddering happily at the sensation of memories flooding his mind, a slight sigh escaping his mouth while he cut inti it, placing it into his mouth and rumbling softly, "Your tastes are wonderful." He looks at her and nods, "I think I can accept your rule. You seem to have good tastes, perhaps your control will benefit this place."

Larewen is equally pleased by his approval of the meal that has been offered. A happy belly is always a boon, even among the dead. She suckles her cigarette as he tastes the sauce. "Vailkrin will see glory that transcends what she had under the Archmosian Empire's influence. She will thrive and our kind will once more be seen as the great and terrible things that we are."

Goren nods as he holds up to his fork, the chunk of elven meat hanging in the air as he swallows, "To Vailkrin and her new empress." He shoved the morsel into his mouth, seemingly happy to just enjoy the meal for the moment.