RP:The Guild Expands, The Assassin is Paid, Valentin Gets Some Cleavage

From HollowWiki

Part of the Venturil's Bane Arc


This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.


The Hanging Corpse Tavern

Kyperion sat in the booth he and Valentin had established as a meeting place, fading in and out of shadow, practicing how quickly he could immerse himself. Looking from his shadowy vantage point, he saw the elf from the store, and Tenebrae, who looked thoughtful. Kyp hurriedly faded into view, least this be taken as a sign of disrespect.


Asailu made her way into the tavern standing on the back of a twenty-five foot long crocodile. The ghostly woman clad in a bikini stepped off the back of the creature shortly after entering. He moved away to his normal resting spot as the elf glanced about the room. Bright emerald eyes looking for someone, yet no one at the same time. Finally, she moved from the entrance towards the Steadman in order to exchange coin for a drink.


Tenebrae wasn't exactly in the building yet. Maybe Kyperion had glimpsed her through the window... In any case, her signature sharp heels were ticking along the blackstone path outside before she entered.


Tenebrae almost fell over that massive crocodile parked in the tavern, which Steadman was eyeballing with his one working eye.

Tenebrae said to the crocodile, "Handbag..." Offering Steadman a wave of greeting, she slid into a chair at the bar and ordered whisky.


Cerys was still carrying that dingy, bloodied sack around, though this time she held a note-book in one gloved hand, her right eye skimming its contents page after page, and her left flickering around the various sights the bar had to offer, in particular a stuffed coat-hanger... It did flicker to Kyperion once in awhile as he melded in and out of view. That night the young woman's pale hair is pulled partway back, still covering her pointed ears, yet staying out of her angular face moreso than before.


Asailu said to Tenebrae, "No one is turning Hunnin into a handbag."


Tenebrae said to Asailu, "Not yet."


Cerys' left eye wanders toward newcomer, then both eyes flick up simultaneously at the clack of those heels on tile upon seeing who they belonged to. Her right eye skims the notebook a final time, committing the circle drawn upon the page to memory yet again that evening before she shoves it back into the large pouch at her belt. Upon noting the crocodile...well her left eye can't help but stare down at the massive creature and the elf standing atop it. "Such a creature must have been interesting to come by..." she remarks aloud in little more than a monotone.


Asailu said to Tenebrae, "Not ever. He is rather harmless, most the time, anyways."


Asailu said to Cerys, "He came by me many years ago. Its more interesting to have watched him grow from the size of my hand to what he is now."


Tenebrae said to Asailu, "Pity. He'd make a nice pair of boots, too. Perhaps if he was parked outside next time.." Steadman grumbled his agreement, and set another drink on the bar for the Thanatos Domina. Tene thanked him, and added, "Is it native to Gualon, by chance?"


Tenebrae sipped her whisky, and over the rim of the glass exchanged a few quiet words with the one-eyed keep, who muttered something back to her. She nodded, and cast a cool, green sliver of perusal toward Cerys. This was interrupted momentarily by a flickering shadow that captured her attention, and when Kyperion vanished into his own little darknesses once more, a thin smile tugged at her lips. Allowing him to continue his practise, she said to Cerys, "Ah. Girl. Our demonstration." She was handed a note by Steadman, which she perused quickly, eager to see Cerys display her skills. "Another applicant, I see. So many eager necromancers-in-training.."


Tene was prodded in the shoulder by Steadman, who pointed toward Asailu, who was then stared at by Tenebrae.


Asailu glanced over at the slumbering creature. "Perhaps, perhaps not. He doesn't stray to far from me. If he is native to Gualon I have no idea. Never seen another quite like him in all my years in the swamps." Glancing back to the woman the elf asked a question of her own, "The burly man says a Lady Tenebrae is to be found within these parts. Might you know where she can be found?"


Cerys takes a slow breath to calm any nerves she has and toys with a pendant under her shirt with her free hand before standing. Straight-backed, her right eye, at the very least, stays on the business at hand. "In the tavern, m'lady, or outside?" she asks. "I leave it to your preference as I wouldn't want to interrupt your drink."


Tenebrae waved her hand at Cerys, "Trust me, nothing can interrupt my enjoyment of this whisky. And the Corpse has seen worse, in its time. Go right ahead."


Tenebrae said to Asailu, "I have seen his like in the swamps there, occasionally. And I am Tenebrae. Did you want something?” She was prodded again by Steadman, who tapped the note lying on the bar before her.


"That's her," Steadman said, "I'm not your postbox, by the way."


Tene smirked at him, and went on eying Asailu.


Asailu said to Tenebrae, "Never see you before in my swamps. But yes. I'd be interested in joining such a Necromancer's guild. The burly man said you'd be the lady to talk with about it. And to mention making bones dance."


Tenebrae said, "Burly.. you mean Valentin? Ah. Well, yes, we are accepting applicants currently. But young Cerys here is about to give me her demonstration, matter of fact.. Can you be here tomorrow, perhaps, to do the same?"


Asailu said to Tenebrae, "I should be around the area. Still collecting a few things for a few potions I've been brewing. But if making a dead rat twitch around some is much of a demonstration. I'm of no great talent in the art."


Tenebrae said to Asailu, "A blank slate is better than one that needs cleaning. I'd be interested in hearing about your potions, also. I'll be here and there.. but often drop in here for a drink. Perhaps tomorrow, then."


Asailu offered a nod to the woman Tene before taking a stance on the crocodile once more. "Tomorrow it is then." And with that the ghostly elf and her crocodile were gone.


Cerys nods her head and allows the women to talk while she prepares. Considering she'd originally been prepared to do such a maneuver outside, she now considers herself fortunate she inherited her father's abilities to have back up plans. She takes a dagger from that enchanted pouch, probably a common device in those lands, and places it on a nearby table's surface before withdrawing a piece of waxy chalk. The elf kneels, sweeping any stray hair over her shoulder and blinking several times to get her eyes to focus on the design she traces into the floorboards with the white stick. The circle itself was nothing too intricate at first, merely a larger ring around a smaller one, with a triangle drawn in the center. It was the sigils between the two rings that were the tricky part, and where her deft hand slows so she can get the correct shape of each of the symbols. A combination of them were drawn at each corner of the triangle. This first combination to bring movement to the corpse's stiff limbs, the second to preserve the flesh in its current state so it would not rot further, and the third to bind the body to her conciousness. At that last combination, her lips press into a line and she manages to get both eyes into focus without blinking her lashes like a hummingbird's wings. In the past, the elf had employed each of these traits seperately on certain corpses, never all in the same circle. This combination, in her own theory, should work. Once she is apparently satisfied, Ceridwen drops the sack gently to the ground and unwraps her old dress to reveal a gnarled stray. The smell permeating from the bag explodes into Cerys' face, but she seems unphased as she carefully takes the body from the dress and places it at the center of the circle. The most notable thing about the corpse, aside from its prominent ribs, are the floppy ears and the dried blood knotting the short fur just around them. Once the former hound is placed, like so, Ceridwen closes her eyes to recall the necessary words...and begins to chant. It was an odd dialect of elvish, something her father had brought from his homeland before arriving to Hollow. She reaches up to take hold of the knife, as she was still kneeling, and draws it across one palm to draw a rivulet of blood. Then the knife switches hands to do the same action yet again. With knife set aside and bloodied hands, Cerys places one hand over the dog's head, the other over its chest and punctuates the chant with a final, emphatic syllable. The chalk of the circle glows ever so subtly, the group of sigils shining through the dog's bulk one at a time. The elf's personal magic and energy pour into the corpse, making her calm breathing turn to a shallow pant and sweat to gather with the blood on her palms. With the ritual complete, she lifts her hands from the creature and. She mutters a single word in that odd dialect, a command: rise. The stray's floppy ears twitch up, its head sways as its glassy eyes find its new master, and like a puppet without visible strings its legs jerk into standing to face the elf. Her lips spread to a smile, vaguely hinting at triumphant, whether the Thanatos Domina was impressed or not. It was an experiment well done and a new little avatar. Sweat gathers on the young woman's brow, and she holds back the hack threatening to break through her throat through a sheer force of will. Of their own accord, both her eyes, in unison, look to Tenebrae for a verdict.


Tenebrae slid off her chair and, drink in hand, crossed the room in order to watch at close hand the girl's ritual workings. She remained impassive throughout, her expression changing not at all, though her pale, peridot-coloured eyes fixed intently on every motion, every chalk line Cerys made. And while the prospective student chanted, she closed her eyes, listening to the dialect used, the phrasing and syllabics of the words. Finally, when the hound stirred and Cerys was finished her display, the Thantos Domina pursed her lips, studying the result. Without a word, she approached the circle and knelt, smudging a line or two, grabby-handing for the chalk so she could make a few minor corrections, "See that? The intersect must be sharp and clean. And this glyph... have you been studying Zalkhan, or something? It's a little .. outdated. By about.. oh, three thousand years. Try this." And she re-drew it, then stood, her piercing gaze settling on Cerys. "We can work on your diction, the dialect's a bit odd but works well enough at this level. You'll need to study under Lorkain for the acceptable languages used in the Guild, however, among our students. You can always expand on your own dialect once you reach Scleratus level... Anyway." She rubbed her hands together. "Well done, indeed." The necromancer grinned, and reached to her vest-pocket for a small vial containing a putrid-looking liquid. "Now you'll shortly have the worst headache you've ever experienced. When it starts, drink this. And you can thank those archaic sigils for it, the old ones never understood economy, it was all blast, blast, summon, summon, ressurect, no thought for the aftermath. Which is admirable in a way, but hardly conducive to any kind of sustained effort.." perhaps Tene realised she was rambling a bit, then. "Ahem. I'll give you a letter to present to Lorkain. Don't mind his temper, he's a cranky old boneheap but really knocks the knowledge into you.. I dare say he'll be pleased you're talented, he can get rid of you all the sooner."


Cerys, once she had gotten caught up in crafting her demonstration, had not noticed the vampire move closer, despite the signature noise of her heels on the hardwood. Upon the conclusion, however, her left eye corrected itself and flicked from the bar to the elder necromancer as she knelt down. The chalk slips easily from the elf's fingers and both eyes stare intently at the corrections. Her brows go up. The dog's tail begins to wag and its blank stare changes as its tongue lolls out as if someone had given it its favorite treat. Cerys' cheeks turn a slight pinkish hue as she quiets her own similar emotion and the dog's reaction stops. She stays kneeling, looking up to Tenebrae, riveted to every word from the vampire's mouth. She nods her understanding when the points about dialect come up, but when that instructive mouth turns to a grin and offers a "Well done," Cerys' ears perk up enough to peek from underneath her hair and she can't contain the emotion blossoming in her chest enough to keep it from rubbing off on the dog, whose tail swishes through the air almost audibly as it gives an excited little bark. The elf allows herself a grin toward the Thanatos Domina as she now stands and rifles through her pouch for some spare linen scraps to wrap around her still oozing hands. When Tenebrae offers the vial, she nods her thanks. "Father never kept his older tomes as protected from prying eyes," she says, her tone a bit breathy before that nasty cough comes out and she has to cover it with the crook of her elbow. Drops of blood splatter on her skin, nothing too serious as the young woman's narrow nose crinkles. "My...undying, eternal thanks, m'lady," is all the gratitude she can manage to voice--though the undead dog was doing more than its share of expressing the girl's excitement--before another cough interrupts anything else she can say, and then that wooziness and just the headache Tenebrae had spoken of began. In the past she had to rest at least a day straight after these sorts of things before she fully recovered.


Tenebrae felt a bit sorry for the girl, an empathy stemming only from her having so recently been forced to take a taste of her own medicine. She made no sign of paying note to Cerys' general state, this being par for the course for all beginners and something that simply had to be overcome. Or not, as the case may be.. "Once Lorkain's done with you, you'll have to find a sponsor in the Guild. I'm assuming your primary area of interest is resurrection?" Dark brows rose at the conclusion of the question, while the cold eyes below them dropped thier focus to the undead hound. "I suppose I'd be best for that task, currently."


Kyperion stepped up. "M'lady," he greeted. "Cerys. Good eventide."


Tenebrae held back a small snarl.. as she'd not noticed Kyperion emerging from his shadow, and had a bit of a surprise. Not that she'd ever admit it. An irritable wave of hand was wafted toward Cerys. "Welcome the latest Novus Morior.. what was your name again?"


Cerys cracks open the vial and pours it down her throat before another coughing spasm can begin. She hadn't expected the drink to taste like caramels, but she'd almost rather choke up her own blood more. She swallows the bitter concoction without audible complaint, however and waits a moment before confirming Tenebrae's assumption. "Yes and...eventually soul binding," she says. The dog's glassy eyes return to that dead blank stare and its tail stills. Whether the vial's contents took effect soon or not, she gives Kyperion a nod. "Evening, Kyperion," she greets in return.


Kyperion bowed his head. "Kyperion, m'lady. If I could trouble you for a moment, I had a question about a few things?"


Cerys said, "Cerys, M'lady."


Tenebrae held up one imperious forefinger as signal for Kyperion to wait a moment. Then said to Cerys, "Wonderful. Your first act as Novus Morior, aside from presenting yourself to Lorkain, will be to gather me six more mandrakes - young ones, this time, a half dozen troll thighbones with marrow intact, if you can manage it… a small posy of nightshade grown under a mature hemlock, harvest that in total darkness... and ..." her lips pressed together as she recalled the last item, "Ah, yes. Gorgon's blood. Fresh, if possible - do remember not to look directly at a gorgon, nasty business that - but dried will suffice. Lorkain will tell you where to go for those things, if you don't know."


Green eyes then slid their narrow attention toward Kyperion, "Speak."


Kyperion maintained his half bowed position. "I'm in need of some advice, which, while not crucial, does promise to amuse you by offering the possibility of taking Valentin down a peg or two..."


Tenebrae 's features were as stony as a victim of the gorgon she'd just now mentioned. "Go on."


Kyperion sighed inwardly with relief. "Valetin has requested that I show him what I'm capable of, particularly with regard to shadow manipulation. I have no magical qualities to speak of, and am able to shadow walk only because of years of training. If you could provide me with a guild seal, I could continue my progression through the shadow arts without taxing my low levels of magic."


Cerys's eyes widen only minutely, not enough to activate her latest creation by any means. Her lips press into a line as she stores the list of errands. She wouldn't bother asking for a deadline, since as soon as possible is assumed if said butcher's observations about the woman are correct. "Yes m'lady," she says with a bow of her head before her headache begins to clear, only to be replaced by the churning of her stomach. Her left eye flicks to the empty vial in her hand. Her pointed ears perk under her hair when she begins collecting the few supplies she'd spent on the circle, then to smudge it out with the dingy dress. All the while, her left eye flickers toward the two, hinting that the girl might just be eavesdropping if they stayed in that tavern any longer.


Tenebrae's brows knit slightly. "Out of the question. The Guild's mark is not a token to be passed about for the sake of a jape. And you ought to have more respect for your betters than wishing to take them down a peg," which was -her- job, after all. The Thanatos Domina blinked those terrible, cold eyes slowly. The thought of annoying Valentin was very tempting..."I will allow your .. attempt to impress the Butcher. Though you'll have to find another way to sustain your magic." If Valentin didn't kill Kyperion for this display of chutzpah, she thought, wryly, he might be fun to have around. Perhaps.


Tenebrae said to Cerys, "A moment, before you scurry off, lass."


Kyperion nodded solemnly. "Indeed, M'lady. My deepest and most heartfelt apologies for the impertenance. I am...unfamiliar with the ways of this land, in many realms of etiquite." Kyp paused a moment. "On a related note, what are the magical properties of mage's blood?" he asked.


Cerys looks up from scrubbing away the chalk circle. "Yes, M'lady?" She would pause until Kyperion was done with his questioning to continue her cleaning up.


The general atmosphere around Tenebrae crackled and darkened, and a pall of ominous gloom seeped from it, prickles of some undefinable terror emanating from the woman, who spoke curtly to Kyperion, in a low and not very patient tone, "Do I at all resemble a public library?" Her aura showed no sign of lightening up, though her tone was less filled with a promise of imminent worse-than-death when Tenebrae addressed Cerys, "Don't show Lorkain what you just showed me. For him, you know nothing, do you understand? Seek me out in a few days, and I will help you along with your resurrections. But not a word to that obstreperous old Lich, hear me?"


Kyperion considered, as parts of him went cold with chills and sweat. "Only in a certain similarity of vast knowledge," he said. Running, fighting and the like were out of the question. When you had crossed that line, sheer ballsiness was the only way out, in hopes of either amusing, disgusting or impressing the terror in question.


Cerys's little canine of an undead avatar appropriately tucks his tail between his legs and lowers his nose to between his paws. Cerys herself, well she goes still in wait for what will happen as one eye focuses on the vampire and the other on the fellow apprentice. And when such a tone is directed her, well she bows her head. "I'm naught but a new mage looking to explore the dark arts, m'lady," she replies, implying that was precisely the story she'd be feeding said ‘obstreporous lich’.


Tenebrae huffed at Kyperion's reply, which had appealed her vanity just enough to prevent him spending eternity as a sentient spitoon. "I highly recommend that you acquaint yourself with the Black Library here in Vailkrin. Tell Redhale you're a prospect for the Guild, if he asks." Each word was a small knife of sound, but at least the terrifying static abated somewhat from her general vicinity.


Tenebrae said to Cerys, "Just so, my dear." She offered a nod of approval to that, and the girl's cleanly habits. "Carry on, now."


Kyperion bowed again. "Very good, M'lady," he said. Know when to roll the dice, know when to stay your hand, the saying went. Sliding into shadow, he departed.


Cerys does as asked and that dingy dress was stained with old brown, and all sorts of white by the end of it, the floor now without a trace of her earlier activities. The dog's head quirks as his master puzzles over what exactly to do with him now that he was raised... "Anything else you would have of me, m'lady, or shall I scurry off now?" she asks, double checking now that her supplies were gathered.


Tenebrae had already turned back toward the bar, upon which Steadman had placed the whisky-bottle when he judiciously vanished into the cellar about the time Tene's temper had begun to fray. A dismissive flip-flap of hand was her wordless reply to Cerys.


Later, Outside a Butcher's Shop In Cenril

Furan is no where to be found. How ever, in the middle of the road next to the shop lays a naga corpse. And severed tail. A few other battle wounds are shown on the corpse the killing blow obviously done by a blade through the chest and into the heart.


Tenebrae had been headed to the Butcher's shop on other business, but was halted by the sight of the naga's corpse in the middle of the road. A frown of disapproval creased her white brow, and the Necromancer folded her arms, staring at it. "Dreadful mess." A glance to the nearby door of the Butchery found it firmly closed, its sign flipped to indicate the shop was just that.


Furan walked out of the shadow of the shop and approached the necromancer. "Lady Tenebrae I presume?" he inclines his hooded head and places his hand along his belt line as he rises. "I apologize. I tried to take him inside, but the door was locked. Though easy enough to do so, I didn't think it would bode well in my business transactions should I break into the building of a client. Lucky the guardsmen how ever, have yet to patrol this area. Therefore they have yet to spot the body"


Tenebrae's aura was starting to exude an uncomfortable sort of prickle again. "Breaking in would have been a very bad idea, indeed.." she told Furan, "And I am Tenebrae. Now tell me, what use to me do you think this.. mess is going to prove? And could you not organise some sort of.. little hand-cart, at the least?" She eyed the man up and down in a flinty sort of way. "And dumping carcasses willy-nilly isn't what I'd call good business practise. The one you left in the temple was also missing skin."


Furan keeps his calm, though his mask had shown no evidence of reaction or not to the shift in aura. "The missing skin is in part due to my client’s request. As for this one.. he put up more of a fight then intended and I wasn't quite sure if poison would help or hinder what ever use you make from him. The first one was a gift of good faith, being it was a child I don't really care about profit from that. As for him, Could tell you that he had a good strong punch and a nice grip with those arms of his." he pauses a moment "But then I'm not sure what you're looking for in this type of transaction. I just know that your kind is interested in non-living bodies, and my clients typically have an interest in me making bodies no longer living. So I thought I could double up on the reward."


Tenebrae wrinkled her nose as she perused the tail-less body. "I'd have preferred it whole. Poison is not an issue, unless it's corrosive.." she sniffed, turning her gaze back to Furan. The necromancer was surprisingly tiny for a woman of such dark reputation, but there was an air of vast malevolency about her as to nullify the delicacy of her appearance. "I suppose the parts might come in handy. In future, you might find it more expedient to arrange collection of the carcasses for delivery," she added, with another sniff, "I know I'd find it so. What I'm looking for presently are clean bodies, as whole as possible, of the average surface variety. Puncture wounds are acceptable, missing parts are not. I'll give you three hundred gold per body, unless it's something really spectacular." The Thanatos Domina gestured her left hand - which was oddly darker than the rest of her - toward the naga's remains. "Which this might have been, had you not cut it in half. There's so much extra effort involved for me, if I must join it back together. Not that I don't need parts, from time to time. But they must be exceedingly fresh, you understand?"


At that moment a guard turned the corner, continuing his patrol. The Necromancer spoke a few low words, harsh and lacking in vowels for the most part, her hands making slight but somehow irksome gestures before her. The guard ceased his strolling and appeared to experience a moment of immense personal discomfort, before vanishing around the corner again. Tene was smiling a tiny, smug smile when she spoke again to the assassin, "Perhaps it'd be better to speak to the Butcher, Valentin, if you're going to be giving us a lot of business in Cenril. But I warn you - he won't take kindly to things being dumped at his door, willy-nilly."


Furan nods "With most humanoids, the type my clients usually have in mind. I would be able to relocate them down to the city of the dead, how ever.. this one was far to heavy to carry alone all the way. As of now I have a few more contracts to deal with in this city. How ever after those I go where the money goes." he watched the guard turn and run away... there goes more coins for him oh well "Typically the living will cease such as this guy with a hole through his chest.. or lack of oxygen. Unless the client asks for a specialty. And as for freshness, I can bring you the body as soon as its dropped. That is.. if you have a place that would be better to take it then to drop it off here... willy-nilly."


Tenebrae nodded, finding all of that fairly reasonable. "My manse in Vailkrin is not far from the tavern, and will be ideal for that, once it's.. " she frowned, ".. repaired. In the meantime, the cellar at the Hanging Corpse will do, just tell Steadman they're for me. Or as I suggested, speak to Valentin for.." another gesture to the naga, ".. this sort of situation."


Furan said, "Well then. With all that settled. I look forward to doing business with you Lady Tenebrae. "


Tenebrae detached a small purse from her belt and tossed it to Furan, "This ought to cover extra costs for having this lugged to Vailkrin."


Furan weighs the coins then attaches the purse to his own belt line. "I know of the perfect man.. It should be there in thirty minutes or less. Until we speak again. " he bows his head in respect and prepares to take his leave.


Tenebrae was busy, though, drawing a rude picture depicting Valentin with a pair of ludicrously large boobies in the day's dust on his shop window. "Mhm.." was all the reply Furan would get.