RP:The Girl in the Tomb
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
Synopsis: On a nightly stroll, Drevyn happens upon a strange girl working in one of the tombs of the graveyard. The conversation turns to interest as he learns of a special book in her possession.
Date: July 20th 2018
Back Tomb (Vailkrin)
For the most part, the tombs were silent, aside from the occasional passerby that went about their business via the oft travelled shortcut that connected Vailkrin to Kelay. In the southernmost tomb of the graveward, hidden off behind the large pillars, a young pallid woman stood before a dimly lit wall to the west. She seemed well dressed in essence, yet her clothing were obviously showing signs of distress in some manner or another. Rips, frays, grime. She had been here for some time. All along the wall were various pieces of parchment, symbols and sigils of many languages scrawled along their faces. In her delicate, fine-gloved hand sat a book; A wretched thing of olde that had been for some time been the sole focus of the girl’s studies in the archaic and the supernatural. She, like those that often passed, was lost in her own little world, with no mind paid to any sound of footsteps that came and went. Although the tomb had been quite dimly lit, behind the perplexed girl her shadow sat, dancing along with her own subtle movements. However, any that happened to look upon the shade would swear that it was not moving in perfect tandem- As if it were delayed by seconds in some manner. Perhaps it was just the trickery of the spooky atmosphere.
Drevyn Ryser walks through the archway leading from the necropolis into this back part of the tomb, his foot steps not quite as they could easily be, but rather purposefully allowed to knock hardened leather heel against cold dark stone. He wasn't trying to be quiet, nor did he have a desire to slink into the shadows as so many of their kind can. Vampires do have a knack for such abilities, darkness being part of the very nature of the curse Elazul has gifted them. Not many talk of the Dark Lord, and truth be told Drevyn himself wasn't much of a devout follower of the old ways, but knowledge is such a powerful thing. Most vampires these days only take the gift of vampirism for its face value. A boon to strength and speed, leaving behind mortal limits to excel far beyond. Time becomes of little matter, in fact one becomes stronger as the years pass them by. Even certain magics seem amplified in the hands of the Dark immortal's children, mayhaps due to it having been his own blood that started the curse? Who knows, these questions are left to historians and devoted souls who desire nothing more than to once again be under the boot of a Dread Lord, Dark Immortal of Fallen God once again. Drevyn desired to be under no one's boot, ever again. But, the simple fact that the gift they all share holds so much potential? Why it was a wonder that no one ever truly seemed to dive into those mysteries, seeing how far this rabbit hole went. Of course, being forever young, pretty and in essence, immortal seemed enough for most. The Elders of Vailkrin's noble houses were those types. Age defined power, with only a few every doing anything that mattered, Lord Trintus being a key example. That man was a vicious, cunning and brilliant minded warrior and general, who has served Vailkrin for countless years. But then others, like Lady Colette of House Nasar? Age was a privilege that helped her rise above many others. Oh, she was cunning, devious and able to run the underworld of the Dark Kingdom, but she was a spiteful child who hated to share her toys, and never liked outsiders. These matters all play in the mind of Drevyn as he stalks the back part of the tomb, silver-hued eyes flecked with a burst of crimson about the center, peer about as he ponders things to himself, though his studious stare soon falls upon the woman and her book, interest peaked just a bit as he wonders what she could be doing here. Knowledge of those who matter tends to be a thing he prides himself on, and anyone openly practicing magic or necromancy in the tombs? Well, the Houses forbade it, unless you were doing their own work for them. A curious matter, to be sure.
Raevyn was lost. Muttering and mumbling as she would run her fingers from one symbol and to the next, pallid, corpse-like eyes of blue dropping to the tome for comparison. The writing on the wall was eluding the girl for the most part, and yet those that were more well versed in the languages present would easily be able to pick out words there and there. Given that Drevyn were a vampire, he might spy a couple of words written in the vampiric tongue here and there- Of stars, blades, and sand. There were more archaic symbols on the wall, some of elvish, of ancient avian, and even those crafted by the former dread lords. Whatever it were that the girl had been studying, it was much more advanced than she herself had any business trying to interpret. She flipped a page of that dingy brown book, stained ink of crimson easily spied from a distance; Although of what it depicted or said would take closer inspection. It wasn’t until Drevyn drew closer that the girl would finally break from her study, although the way it came about was a bit on the peculiar side. It was the shadow that first moved, its head turning in Drevyn’s direction as if to note his presence. Raevyn herself would not mimic the action for at least a few seconds following. Strange. “..Evening.” the girl offered with not much emotion. She seemed distrusting, or maybe even cold. She was no longer that happy, cheerful girl that had been so eager to make a life for herself in this land called Lithrydel.
Drevyn studies not only this strange woman he has never seen before, but also the way her shadow moves on its own accord. The writing on the wall also finds itself studied for a bit, though he does in fact only make out a few of them. Her book, though, does find a bit more of his interest than he'd have liked to allow to be seen, but he is quick to remove his gaze from it as her greeting finds him, a charming smile drawn at the ready in response, as the vassal of House Nasar replies. " Greetings, my lady." A bow is offered, as he continues with. "A rather curious place to be studying, especially at this hour. Does not your house, or the guild, offer you better solace than these musty old ruins?" He doubted she was from a house, though the mage or even necromancer's guild could make sense, their lot often found their ways into the dark lands to seek out its many mysteries. But curiosity often led them to places they were never fully prepared to handle, be it crossing paths with a thrall fresh on the hunt, lost to the ravenous cravings of the thirst it shall forever be consumed by, or worse,becoming the point of interest for one such as Drevyn Ryser. More often than not this particular vampire found himself collecting things, even people, to add to his ever growing collection of possible tools to use against his enemies, or aid his friends. On this note, he says. "If you were part of the guilds, be it Mage or Necromancer, you'd find more information of the tome, The Forsaken Book of the Dead. It houses many a great mystery into more... darker matters of the lands past, and I can only assume that if these words are here, of all places, they don't promise one ever lasting peace, or a solution to world hunger." A jest, of course, but not so much so. If it has ancient vampiric writing, or -anything- to do with Dread Lords, it was dark. And this only added to his own curiosity as to why this strange woman, and whatever that shadow was, were here studying it. "DO you need any assistance, Lady...?" Having just realized her never really asked her what her name was.
Raevyn’s eyes narrowed for an instant. Perhaps is was some sort of twitch, a signal of her overtired body trying its best to keep going despite the sleep she had been neglecting for so long. Her face screamed fatigue and irritation. The greeting was afforded a nod and then the roll of her shoulder as she responded. “I have no house to speak of. The guild… I have stared upon the rows of books for too long. There is nothing for me there. I need space.” Indeed, with the amount of parchment sprawled along the walls, it was obvious she had a need to be spread out. Her pallid gaze shifted to the book in hand with Drevyn’s suggestion, a gentle shake of her head as she then offered in reply, “No answers. Not there. I have searched through the vast expanse of what I am allowed, secrets within the Black Library- it has been useless.” The girl huffed in anger. “Mister Mahara has… gifted me tomes to use to help translate the writing. But it is taking so very, very long. To compare placement and context. Languages muddled together as one. Everything is elusive.” The girl turned. And in delay, so did her shadow. “What assistance do you offer? What is it that you seek in return? Is this a ploy? Is there some ulterior motive? Be truthful in your answer.” That lack of trust was now more evident than ever.
Drevyn allows a smirk to form upon his lips in response to her wary notion of his good intentions. She was smart there, and he'd give her that, so he does in fact lay it all out. "You are of no real interest, yourself, though a name and face I do not know is a matter I find... curious." The smirk stays, as he continues with. "But it is more your work that finds me wondering "what can be". And to help you figure that out? It keeps me aware of potential magic involving Dread Lords and ancient Vampires of old, a subject that should remain dead in the eyes of many." Truth be told, there were little few in the land that even remembered the threat Elazul and Khasad, Solaris and Kaizer and Arrecation presented to the world. Fewer still remembered the power of the seals, the chaos of the Ascendi. Drevyn did. He remembered it all, very well. The saying only the strong survive? That was life then, and the strong were either Dark Immortals, Dread Lords or bearer of seals of great power, the rest ended beneath their boots, leaving little room for cunning men with a talent for wordcraft to rise up in rank. "I have resources, quite a vast collection of tomes and scrolls, as well as a very rare few capable of translating dead languages, or in this case, forgotten ones. I could offer you such, that is, if you'd be willing to inform me of whatever it is that has been left behind by those who wrote this. Most mages leave behind evidence of their work, but it is only when great danger is involved, be it the power to become a Lich, or a terrible spell not meant for the average hand, that you find their work left so scrambled as this." He'd let that settle, at least showing he has some understanding of such work. "And, if you find what you seek, keep it. I have little use for that which involves the Dread Lords, though, I would know if a new weapon, war or second coming were to come about, knowledge often being the core to real power, I've found."
Hope. This was what would replace that cowl of suspicion, the girl’s eyes lighting up if only slightly. The man spoke of things she had stumbled across in her studies. Things she herself had been curious about; And yet, her mentor Bradyn would offer no solace in helping the youth figure things out. He was adamant that she needed to do this on her own. However, the longer this took, the further her sanity seemed to slip away. Already she spoke to things that had not been there. She saw fantastical visions and listened to terrifying whispers. She dreamt horrible, twisted things- So gruesome and grotesque that she dare not sleep when she could muster the strength. Every waking minute without answer was, in fact, Hell. “It… belonged to a man. A… creature of the past. Those that know of him do not speak his name easily. Except One. Larewen Dragana.” Straight black locks sway with the movement of the girl’s head, her gaze settled upon the pages of ink she had plastered upon the wall. “His name was Nasada. And through circumstances that were.. Perhaps entwined with fate, I find myself connected to him in some manner. I have sought answer as to… how I might rid myself of a curse. This connection. Most deny me help when I ask. Others are cryptic and even more useless. Some… those closest… leave.” For a brief moment, there were a deep sorrow in her tone. “This book. This wretched, tainted thing, is all that I have to go on. It was… his, if I am not mistaken. It is full of strange things. Spells. Rambling thoughts. Weapons. Places. I have translated many things, and yet nothing that would help me. What you see here, on the wall, are my own writings. I am trying to put the puzzle pieces together and decipher what this damned man wrote. It is regarding this… blade.” Raevyn holds the book out, a page reminiscent of cured flesh had been inked with red; And on that page were a strange sword stuck in stone, with huge, dark monoliths surrounding it. If Drevyn were still paying attention to more than just the book, it would be observed that her shadow were no longer present.
Drevyn listens to her words, follows her tale of searching for answers about a name her knows of, at least if only by name. Nasada. A creature many feared, some ever worshipped to some extent. Red skin, black wings, and a bearer of one of the seals of power. He started a war, raised the undead to do his bidding. A force to be reckoned with, during his time. The absence of the shadow isn't wholly ignored, though one may find that this vampire is a bit more capable than one would suspect, given his demeanor. If it attacked, wards and curses were stored and at the ready, a ring one one finger, a charm upon his neck, and tattoos of sigils, to the very fabric of his finely tailored suit having spells woven into the fabric. Knights have their armor, mages have theirs. But he and this woman have not played the cat and mouse game of threats he is so used to with the others of the houses. It was a bit refreshing, to say anything. So, he carries on without delay, her revelations of her research peaked his interest. "A mysterious source, to say the least. Nasada's name carries with it a greatness to some, and a foreboding dread to others. He was one whom did not dwell in shadow, but was forthcoming with his desires, and one of the few with power enough to do it, during a time when heroes and monsters did as they pleased." Again, a time he'd have found himself either a servant or a target, as black and white as it was. "I'll help you, as to at least ensure you do not unleash a remnant of Nasada unwillingly in your own attempts to decipher his work. 'tis not a thing that should be handled without the proper care, and I mean no offense, as few in this land can truly handle such a matter properly." He looks her over again, her ragged clothes, once beautiful to be sure, torn and scattered. Her frame thin, looking half starved as well as unrested. "Though, leaving you here in this place shall not be part of that. If you won't stay at house Nasar, then at least travel with me to the Hanging Corpse, eat, regain some measure of strength and... take a damn bath. You'll need your wits properly about you to delve into such a subject matter, and I'd rather know you're at full strength before we move forward."
Raevyn looked upon herself and frowned. It was only now that she realized she had fallen into past habits; Allowing the fear and haunting of a lingering power to affect her waking life. She remembered when she first lay eyes on the coat she were wearing. How lovely and how elegant it had appeared. A craft of the avians to be sure. And now, it was gross. Worn. In need of great repair. As if a reply to the man’s suggestion, the girl’s stomach gurgled- When had she eaten last? “I… suppose I should have something.” she finally said, after a moment of contemplation. “If anything to get my head straight. Or.. at least to having something in which I can mull over while you tell me what you know.” Those words were spoken as if he had no choice. Raevyn really was a brat lately. The tome in hand was snapped shut. The papers on the wall left where they were. She did not worry about too many stumbling upon them. Those that found them, most likely would not get any further than she did. Without much more to say, the girl began a quiet walk to the north, heading for the Corpse regardless of how soon Drevyn would join her. Curious, as they walked on, should Drevyn glance behind himself, he might spy upon the wall her shadow. Silently standing in place like some sort of watching spectre.
The Hanging Corpse (Vailkrin)
Drevyn enters the tavern in the wake of the strange woman he has just met. His attire, a tailored three piece suit of the finest make, with boots of matching quality, a leather belt with pouches of a matching hue, and fine jewelry from three rings, an amulet tucked away beneath his shirt and a sigil of his own design, a pin, for the name Ryser. He looked important, to be sure, and his station as vassal of House Nasar was known, so people made room for him. A table was offered for the vampire and his new quest, and with a snap of his fingers two working girls, pretty young things, rush to his side. He always had some stationed at the tavern, as well as other key locations "Fetch our guest some food, and drink. You." He points to one he knows has knowledge of the area. "Take her measurements, then find her some clothes until she feels ready to shop on her own." To the third of these girls, he orders. "Prepare one of the finest rooms here, and ensure she is not disturbed until she feels like it." The women do as they are bid, a curtsy offers to their lord, as well as the woman, before they set off to do their tasks. Here, the pair find themselves alone with two bottles of fine wine and clean glasses. Drevyn takes the bloodwine to himself, for obvious reasons, and pours himself a tall glass before he leans back in his chair, saying now. "I'll need to know where you find yourself struggling the most, so I know whom to fetch to help unravel these mysteries."
Slender brow of black slightly lifts when the important man commands the willing servants, a slight discomfort shown with the pull of her lips. “That.. was not necessary, sir.” she states. “I am quite capable of getting my own things and finding my own place to rest my head.” Truth be told, she did have some form of residence, a temporary housing out in Larket; Yet this would not be revealed. Not if she wanted to keep her secrecy. Fearing she may offend the man, she added, “But, I appreciate your generosity nonetheless.” Raevyn wasn’t exactly a big drinker. She had delved here and there now that he closest friend had been gone, but she found that she could study better on a clear mind. Regardless, some of that wine were poured and she sipped a bit to wet her tongue. “It is… hard to say. The book, it is a mess. As if written by many people sharing one mind.” The tome in question sat now upon the table; A brownish, leathery thing that was indeed carved from flesh. It was flipped open. “The elvish. Draconian. This… is easy. The older languages… Avian, Vampiric.. They… take time to translate. Much more time than needed. In their respective dialects, letter placement would make sense. But here... “ The girl points to a random page. “It’s a mess. It starts with an elvish sigil. A common letter of the alphabet. And yet, here it is then followed by a sigil of the Avian alphabet. It is placed in a way that does not make sense. Or at least, not yet.” Another page was flipped, and then another. “And here… this language. I know it is old. A language of Immortals, but… there are very few records to go on.” Should Drevyn choose to study or observe the book, he may be affected by its hold; Perhaps in terms of faint whisperings, of voices from long ago in his past. It wouldn’t be quite apparent at first; Subtle, a trick of the mind. Yet, the longer he dabbled with the item, the more he might experience strange and devious effects.
Drevyn is familiar with the power such tomes can possess, so forgoes the offer of studying it himself. After all, he did have people who handled such matters for him. " I know of a man, well, a drow rather, who has translated many a great things in his time. A capable mage, given the rank of Magister in the guild during Rheven and Tiphareth's time there, he even once led the Necromancer's guild." He pauses, knowing his relationship with Daath was one based firmly upon the fact that the pair was able to benefit one another, and nothing more. "He is one I trust not only for his capable ability, but discretion in matters is a talent he is almost unparalleled in." The drow was once a prominent figure, having fought in the wood elf and drow wars, as well as finding what many consider to be the most sacred text of the dark arts ever to be penned. " As for the languages you seek aid on, there are others who specialize in such almost forgotten things. Though, I do wonder... aside from you desire to know your connection to... him, what else to you seek in such a tome?" His gaze flitters above the book, then back to her, he dare not linger too long upon it. It is known some can snatch your very soul from your body, while others have, quite literally, leaped up and attacked, Redhale's notorious book used to fly about all Vailkrin at times, pages falling away as it did. "And, since my curiosity of you still lingers, what is your goal? Surely such knowledge within this book could make you a force in the land, as such is to be expected of studying -his- work." He keeps away from dropping Nasada's name, not in such a public place. "Long has it been since a proper user of dark arts has been around. Yes, many know a great deal, Lord Bradyn, whom now runs the Necromancer's guild, Lady Larewen, even I am capable in some matters. But that book could offer paths to power many haven't seen in years, hundreds of years even. What would you do with them?”
Soup. This is what is brought for the girl who had been made a guest in Drevyn’s presence. Raevyn was, despite being so cold earlier, quite polite in her upbringing and so she thanked the servant girl. It wouldn’t take long before the spoon was lifted and the bowl of hot liquid started to be consumed. “Their help would be more than appreciated.” she stated, first. When asked about what she sought, the girl didn’t take long to spit out her answer. “Freedom. Disconnection. A method in which to go my own way. Nothing more, nothing less.” A shrug. “ My research has pointed toward a weapon, but I can not decipher what it is for, or where it may be found. I have asked Larewen what she knows, but she has… been less than helpful. Although, she claims to want her… friend… to be reborn, and to help me, and yet, still nothing.” To the left, Raevyn picks up a roll and gently tears a small piece off, chewing slowly as she pondered over Drevyn’s next questions. “In all honesty… nothing. I have no use for such powers… if one could even gain them from this book. I want to… go back. To how things were before. I want to be happy. To move on. To study magic and explore.” Her expression shifts toward sadness. “To see my family.” she admits, with a sigh. “When I get what I want, to… separate myself from this damned… thing… then I will have no more use for this tome. I will cast it into the sea, if I must.”
Drevyn sips his wine, the flavor of blackberries infused with what he only guesses to be elven blood is rich and bold. A delight to be sure. She speaks of freedom, of a path that is her own, and he smiles a genuine smile. "Kindred spirits it seems we are in that aspect. I came from nothing, and I work to rise above being just a servant, solely so I may choose my own path and live my own little immortal life how I see fit, no longer just a pawn in others games." A bit more open than usual, but he didn't fear such being known. He already disposed of his sire, leaving him free of will as far as that horrid bond could go. But, he was enslaved as a vassal, and though not a slave in name, her was a belonging to another, so he understands how one could feel a need to separate themselves from something like the legacy of Nasada. "Though, I now ask, what do you know of him? And, better yet, given your own admittance of Lady Larewen;s desire to see Nasada reborn, how do you feel about that? Is it a desire you claim as well? Or one you'd rather not see come to pass?" Again that glass of wine finds his pale lips, as his eyes watch the woman with a keen sense of interest yet again.
Raevyn nods in understanding. “Yes… perhaps I was naive before I came to this land… but it seems far too many intend to use others for personal gain. I think it is quite horrendous. When I first arrived, I was… preyed upon by a couple that intended to use me due to my… connection.” The girl frowns now as she fiddles with the spoon in her soup. “I do not know much. I know he was a powerful necromancer. I know that… he is evil. That he is unholy. And that, technically speaking… he is dead.” Even though he had no mortal form, not one in which could cause her harm, Raevyn still showed some sort of fear for the former servant of the Dark immortals. “As for his rebirth… I suppose that if I will be free… then I do not really care. Well. I suppose that is not entirely true. I would hope that he is not as he were in life, as in how he has been spoken of, or written out of history. I would hope that he does not gain the sort of power that this book showcases. I know that… whatever is left of him… is weak. If he wants to be free as well. To live his life… then so be it.”
Drevyn listens more and more as he learns a bit here and there about this woman. She was an interest, almost a pure soul if she wasn't so stained by dark magic, but still the vampire finds himself almost wanting to help her, which is a bit unusual for him. Either way, all things seem to lead to some sort of gain, even if it ends up just being a simple favor or having favor with some. "Aye, life is a fickle thing, and death can be rather motivating for one to change their ways, but one such as him? That would be interesting, to say the least." He smirks, drinks the rest of his wine and says. "But for now, you need rest, maybe more food. All shall be taken care of, and no shall not be taken as a reply. You're a quest of mine, and I shall send forth for my translators to aid you. You'll have time. You'll have resources and you'll have space and privacy to do what you must do. But for now, I think you need rest and some time to yourself, so.." He rises, offers the lady a bow, and says. " I bid you farewell, and good night." Raevyn will find herself able to eat and drink as much as she desires, that she'd have one of the bets rooms in the tavern, with clothes of varying styles in her size waiting on her. The room shall be large enough to house all her things, and give her room to work freely. Steadman knows she is very well funded, thus will make sure she is left be, so long as she doesn't try nothing too crazy.