RP:The Haruspex Instructs a Scleratus on Necromantic Circles and Sigils
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
Background
Valentin, Scleratus of the Necromancer's guild, was wrestling with dusty old tomes and dustier old language.
Leifong, Haruspex and Magister Letum of the Necromancer's guild, steps in to offer more useful instruction than the tomes Valentin had been reading through could offer.
Setting: the Dimly Lit Reading Room in the Black Library
This room is slightly better lit than the library due to a larger amount of candles placed strategically around the room, yet the room is still dim compared to what human eyes would be accustomed to. The wax runs from the candles onto brass and carved out skull holders fixed into the cold stonewalls, casting eerie shadows throughout the room giving the place a very chilling atmosphere. Scattered around are large black oak tables and finely padded armchairs for people to read from the libraries dark literature. Some tables have their own candles illuminating evil passages in leather clad books whereas some tables have long since been abandoned to the spiders. Large intricate webs cover these tables and the books on them while their inhabitants cast fearsome shadows upon the walls. The air in this room is again stagnant and unclean and seems particularly unwholesome. Dead centre in the room is expertly preserved skeletal remains of a dragon in a pose that would suggest it is about to take off from the ground as its skull's mouth opens wide baring all its fangs for a moment you can almost hear a terrifying roar. You could stay here to read or go back into the library.
A lesson with the Haruspex of the Necromancer's Guild
The joy of comfortable leather chairs, no matter how mothbitten, was that they made an onerous task less of a blimmin' nuisance. And books, Valentin had always felt, were a blimmin' nuisance. The necromantic butcher was seated next to a small table stacked high with musty old tomes and a bottle of elven-blood wine. In his hands was Artemesius' "Treatyfe on Sorcerouf Engraving", which the burly man was glaring at as if the fusty dialect contained within was a personal enemy of some kind.
Leifong watches the butcher curiously for some time from the darkness, considering whether he was truly worth the confidence that Jolie seemed to have in him. Competent indeed, but undisciplined... his mind unfocused and dull. It would need sharpening... but he could be quite useful. There was much knowledge here, to be sure, but the priest couldn't help but think that such a man would be far more inclined to practical instruction. "Tell me..." he states calmly as his body shifts into a more distinct form of existence, phasing out out of the shadows to approach the table at which Valentin sat in studious concentration. "What is Artemesius' primary misconception regarding the use of blood as a catalyst for the amplification of an array's transmutational potential?" The butcher should have covered that bit by now, at least in passing, though the question itself was largely opinion based. There was an answer, sure enough, but the priest was more interested in the way that Valentin's mind would have processed the information. So many were willing to simply accept the words in these near infinite tomes as gospel without so much as a single question of the author's integrity. Leifong hoped that the butcher had a slight bit more sense than that.
Valentin grinds his teeth. Another polysyllabic assault, and this one from a face more punchable than a book's bindings. If it had been any other face, Valentin would have given into that urge - but the Haruspex' workshop and ritual had created respect, and one doesn't facepunch those whom one respects, even if they pop pout of nowhere to ask difficult questions. "The ol' geezers first mistake was thinkin' that long words was needed when shorter'd suffice. Somethin' y'could keep in mind y'self, Haruspex." The butcher dumps the tome unceremoniously on the table. "The bit 'e got wrong, as I see it, was in the fact he didn't link the circle t'somethin' o'practical use." Valentin waves one of his meaty hands "Sure, you draw a blimmin' fancy circle in th'ground, bleed some joker out, and boost your own reserves for a big necromantic whammy. But y'can't blimmin' move, can you? Y'got t'stand there like a banker an' do your thing -in- the circle. It's blimmin' limited in application." Not being one to sit while others are standing, Valentin hauls himself to his feet. "Lets say, for example, that this here chair's a box. An' let's say you wanted an ongoing presence o'the cryumbral tides happenin' inside the box while you ain't around. Arty's circle's a start, innit - wack it on the box, bleed some bugger out - but wait! Where's the blimmin' energy goin' to, eh? Nowhere, unless you're standing on top o'the damn box." The butcher points at the chair "Now, like I said before - what if I wanted to link that circle to another sequence o'sigils to make the inside o'the box as cold as frostmaw, eh? Arty's approach don't let you. It's all focused on the feckin' caster, which is a banker's approach. No versatility."
Leifong's cheeks crack a bit as his face splits into a grin, apparently pleased with the butcher's answer, although he could do without such blatant disrespect for proper language. He wasn't about to bloat Valentin's ego however. Even if he'd received the most brilliant answer in the history of magic itself, the priest would feel obligated to scoff at least a little.. "So you understand the limitations involved... and I assume you have some half formed notion of how to overcome them. But you've failed to note the most inane bit of useless idiocy contained in Artemesius' notions of how to manipulate the flow of energy. With such basic arrays as that text primarily covers, the use of blood as a catalyst is not only utterly pointless, but will actually serve to impede your efforts toward a proper ritual. Now, why do you suppose that is?"
Valentin grunts. Seems the Haruspex and the twisted tosser who'd sired him had teaching styles in common. Game of a hundred questions, innit. Still, if he'd learned one thing, it was that such teachers tended to explain a lot more when gloating over how wrong their student had been. The trick, the butcher had found, was determinin' when t'be right, and when t'be wrong, so as t'keep the information coming. Too stupid, and they'd not bother. Too smart, and they feel threatened. Had to find the happy middle - teachable, but not too obviously sharp. Keep the knife in the block 'til needed, as they say. Time t'test the waters "Blood'd mess up all the sigils, innit. It'd take a more complex setup to avoid th'blood washin' away critical sections o'the runework, don't y'reckon?" ...and always end with a question, because that was an invitation t'be told jus' how wrong y'were.
Taylor eased an eye open ever so slightly as the intrusion of voices intrupted her activities in the library. They were expected to some degree as this is a public institution for those that risked their life, or lack there of, and limbs to venture into the bowls of this city to read it's tombs. The only tell tail signs of the unorthadox woman clad in leather would be found inside her boot that rested high on a table underneath the matching mirror twin at the ankles. Taylor's toes wiggled within the quiaint space in order to encourage blood flow to the elevated limbs while she observed Leifong and Valentin. What the hell were they up to. Pointing at chairs, talking about boxes and blood. Couple of nuts and that's saying something in these parts. Then again, an unattended woman, a human one at that, had to be equally confusing in the land of the undead. Taylor was bored of watching after some time, deciding to 'wake up' at the gravely sound of the elder voice. "Who the hell would go wasting perfectly good blood? That sheet should be save for painting baby rooms and takin' baths." One heavy boot drops, then the other, yet she still sat slouched in her chair, arms folding around her bosom. "Look, if you're going to be wasting it. Least you can do is throw it on someone and set them loose in the woods."
Leifong 's impression of the butcher suddenly runs south, the inherent stupidity involved in his last answer leaving the priest utterly speechless for a moment as he grapples with the urge to smack Valentin outright. "You mean to tell me, that the largest fault you can find in that methodology is smudged ru-" but he is interrupted before he can finish by the sudden interjection of a comely woman who had been eavesdropping on the conversation. "Everyone's a comedian..." He states just below carrying volume, an icy edge in his already dangerous tone accentuating the threat of his next statement "Watch your tongue, woman. If you show some respect and observe, you might just learn something." he sweeps around Valentin's table then, making for a bit of open floor where he begins to collapse telescopically in on himself, lowering to the ground in a manner that seems to ignore the limitations of a physical body and leaves him looking like a blob of shadow rather than a crouched man. "Now pay attention..." he orders more than suggests to the butcher as a frail, emaciated hand stretches out from what must be a sleeve toward the floor. The priest's skeletal index finger seems to stretch, the nail elongating to a sharp point which Leifong drags across the stones. In it's wake gouges form, as though he were simply melting the array which he begins to construct into the floor. "This should be familiar to you" he says idly as he finishes up all the major ley lines and then places his palm to the outer circle. The air in the room seems to take a charge as he does this, causing hair to stand on end for a moment as a series of complex runic notations appear in glowing red light, eating their way into the floor in the proper alignment. "I trust that you can recognize it, yes?"
Valentin makes a mental note that the Haruspex is particularly touchy with regards to dense students. Good t'know, as he'd have to spend less energy playin' dumb here than he'd had to with his sire. He looks at the sigils, which strongly hinted of the black tides. Closer inspection and a taste of the energies tell the butcher that the array was some kind of summoning of the Pyrumbral tides, which now that he thought about it, Artemesius had also mentioned. "Th'wellspring o'Black Flame, innit." Noting the Haruspex' displeasure, the Scleratus adds "Alright guv. No more comedy, so I'll revisit th'previous question. Th'biggest problem with usin' blood, as I see it, is that the whole blimmin' point o'the ritual is to use somethin' else's lifeforce as a supplement to your own magical resources. Th'moment you draw blood from a creature, it starts t'lose that life force, making the gesture redundant unless the creature is partic'ly big, an' your working space is confined. Overall, y'much better off usin' the living creature as the source through which th'circle provides th'mana y'need. And then y'still got the initial problem of 'is circle not allowin' for you t'transfer that energy into a different, on-goin' ritual. Am I closer t'the mark?"
Taylor arched a brow at the demanding ways of the robed figure, setting her chest to jump as a smirk paired chuckle inaudably heft out a breath of air. There is probably an eyeroll somewhere that matched that chuckle as curiosity teased her into submission of the order. Taylor shifted slightly in her protesting chair just to see what the kook had in mind for her to 'learn'. Leifong's display, ritualistic in nature, certainly did raise a hair or two but not in the way that makes one take caution. Not a fashion statement she wished to be perminent, but it was an interesting consideration... thus, Leifong lost his audience within her, briefly. A quick sweep of her forearm pulled it back down and around her neck, where she held it in a loose ponytail formed with a set of fingers. A light show? This one is full of surprises. What's next, crows squaking? Worms spelling out a prophicy? Her tongue was silent, but at the display she did not comprehend, what her tongue lacked in movement, her thoughts freely flowed and that curiosity set back in just in time for the younger one's analysis. "Let me get this straight... " then her mouth dropped, bobbing a few times, and a quick clamp shut. Apparently there was nothing to get straight, giving she had no idea what was going on. Her body straightened in the chair over this activity's time but now, she seemed to shrink away, a physical retraction from her verbal intruption.
Leifong is a bit more placated now that Valentin was displaying a genuine attempt at reasoning. "Very good, your identification at least is sound. And indeed, the moment that you draw the blood away from it's host, it begins to leak it's power. But the point of the blood is not as a source in and of itself, but a link to your source. Look here." Leifong points to a small cluster of runes aligned near the bottom edge of the well. "This bit is where Artemesius has chosen to indicate the source influx of mana. When left with no significator, the array will utilize whatever power is pushed into it, like so." The haruspex places both palms flat on the outer circle, and in a brilliant flash a towering pillar of dark flames bursts forth from his array like a jet, but dies away the moment he removes his hands. "when deprived of it's source, the array is no longer able to sustain itself and dies. Yet when we add the significator as shown.." The priest makes a motion with his hand signaling the butcher to draw near "I require your blood for this."
Valentin takes a moment, having slightly mollified the tetchy Haruspex, to examine the newcomer. If it weren't for Jolie's lunatic example, the butcher would not have expected a pretty wench to be lounging around the Black Library. That bein' said though, appearances often deceived in Vailkrin. His attention is quickly returned to the Haruspex though when he speaks again regarding Artemesius' placement of the source for mana influx. "So he's got the cart - bein' the circle, got the horses - bein' the source, but hasn't attached the harness proper - the mana influx, that is. That's the bollocksin' up of his design?" The butcher focuses on the Haruspex' actions then, and when Leifong makes his demand the Scleratus runs a sharpened vampiric talon along his palm to release some of his own blackened vitae. "So, usin' the blood here will attach the harness between horse an' cart, eh? Hope I'm not in for another blimmin' magical headache"
Valentin nods to the woman "Evenin', mam'selle."
Taylor tries to follow along, really she does, however she lacks the ingredients that would make half of this senerio have any connection. First of all, Taylor lacks her morning rituals. Not easily remidied with what she has awoken to, but a pat down is in order, of her self, for a flask that is kept in her bosom. This flask, metalic and dented, scratched and really just a testimate to it's life since creation, found itself remarkably willing to remove it's head for a drink. Which one was this again... Taylor softly smacked her lips in order to descern if she just had the potion A or B... A it was. Hell if she could keep straight where she sticks her concoctions. Sharper senses would find firewater to be the most pungant, overbaring the stench of blood though that too had it's own secret for it carried the dark whiff of not being fresh, despite it's mix into her brew. "Mornin'" was chimed back with no particular emotion. One dose down, another to... Again with the patting! She had this routine down so clealy that the flask seemed to exchange itself for a rolled piece of pape and something that produced a small flame. Taylor deeply inhaled, holding the burning stick between her lips while tucking the rest of her accrutriments away. The breath exhaled carefully, aiming the stench of skunk into the room. "What are you all up to?" chinning at Leifong's prance around the runes.
Valentin comments to Taylor in passing as he directs most of his focus on Leifong "Discussin' the practicalities o'certain necromantic rituals, guv."
Taylor bows her head to acknowledge the statement that clarified most of her other questions out of existence. Necromancy.... so this was how they did it.... And so on went her thoughts as she continued to witness as much as she was allowed to in the depths of the Valkrin library.
Leifong casts the woman a glare from behind his mask as she interrupts again, apparently not possessed of the ability to observe without comment. "I am -attempting- to offer instruction. It's not often that a... payment... is not required in return for such information." and with that, he goes back to the task at hand, dipping his elongated fingernail into the butcher's palm as if it were a pen in an inkwell, and using it to scratch out a couple more lines of runic annotation. "This, is how Artemesius would have us craft the significator." he states blithely, finishing up with a little flourish and allowing Valentin a moment to study the pattern. Not a long moment, however, since it was wrong. "his linking is sound, but limited." at this juncture the priest presses his palms to the seal again, and it erupts into a jet of black flames once more, only this time they do not die away the moment that his physical contact with the array is broken, merely throttle down to a more controlled blaze. "I imagine you can feel it pulling the energy from you, yes? Not a the most taxing of drains, i'm sure, but if left in this state the array would eventually suck you dry and you would expire. There is nothing wrong with this of course, if the source point of your mana is expendable. But what if you would like to prolong the lifespan of your array past the limitations of this?" Leifong rises as he continues on this point, answering the question himself before the butcher would have a chance. "Using this method, you are simply out of luck. Once your source has been exhausted, the array will be unable to sustain itself and die, along with the source it draws power from." Leifong circles around, his attention on Valentin to see if he was still following. "It's in this line here." he states, that same index finger stretching down all the way to the floor and pointing to a specific portion of the runes written in blood. "specifically this bit, where he notes the source-point as 'sanxerat sanguine'." and then that finger is lifted up to the butchers chest "You, in this case." The well of black flame was not exactly the most taxing of magical feats, yet it's drain on the butcher should be well known by this point, likely causing a slight bit of discomfort, and a desire for Leifong to just 'get on with it' already. "However blood can be far more useful than Artemesius seems to realize. It's true usefulness lies in acting as an anchor between our world, and powers which lie outside it's domain. Like so..." the priest stoops yet again, placing his palms back over the array's outer edge, and with a similar feeling as last time he adjusts the array. The whole thing lights up with a red glow as lines shift subtly, and for a time the flames disappear, along with the drain on Valentin. "In our case, we can use it to form a link between our array, and a source which is not so... limited." the array spreads out, growing in circumfrance and complexity as new bits of runic annotation appear, some of which are quite likely beyond the realm of Valentin's comprehension. The priest reaches out to dip his fingernail in the butcher's palm a second time, and adds a whole slew of new symbols along the outer ring which seem far more complicated than those included in Artemesius'. "Have you any notion how much energy flows through the ground? How much raw power exists past the veil of this insignificant little plane?" and as he speaks the priest begins crafting a secondary seal in the middle of the first. "It's enough to put even the most powerful of earthly beings to shame." that said, Leifong takes his hands away from the array and stands up, allowing Valentin to study it as much as he wants. "All that's required is to bridge the gap. Go on, activate it."
Valentin pays close attention as the Haruspex explains the basic premise of Artemesius' circle. Mentally, the butcher was translating 'significator' to harness, or, the butcher supposed, 'linkage sigils' might be more appropriate. As attuned as the butcher was to the various umbral tides, and having used them in the past for extended periods, this particular section of the demonstration was not as draining on Valentin's reserves as might have been expected. Certainly, Valentin was not the impatient type, much preferring to process each thought in a slow and methodical fashion, using the time to properly take in the information being relayed to him. Valentin continues to listen silently and actively as Leifong continues his lecture, doing his best to make a mental note of the new sigils the Haruspex enscribes. The Scleratus carefully examines the placement and variance in shape. There was a niggling hint of an underlying pattern, but as yet complete comprehension was beyond him. With little more to be gained by watching, Valentin nods at Leifong's command "As y'say, Haruspex." Focusing his will, primarily on containment of his own energies should the array seek to drain him at a dangerous pace, Valentin wipes his hands together, then on his stained apron. With a thin sheen of blood on both palms, he sets his hands on the seal as Leifong had, and, if the presence of hands and blood do not immediately activate it, would direct a small amount of his own energies to filter through his palms.
A large, leather-bound grimoire flips a few of its own pages before slamming shut and disappearing..
Valentin adds another reason to his list of 'why books are blimmin' nuisances'. In the Black Library, the things had no damn respect for a person's need to keep 'em open on a partic'lar page. He couldn't even blame it on a punchable person - it was the damn books an' their messed-up sense o' humour.
The array begins to glow brightly as Valentin pushes a bit of mana into it, and the priest sweeps casually away by several feet, knowing what to expect. Perhaps it was wrong not to warn the butcher... but then again, an impressive demonstration was always a good motivator to improve. And besides... he just couldn't help himself. It is that secondary seal which Leifong had added in blood which really required powering, it glowing a bit brighter than the outside as it charged. It quickly reaches the predefined limit of how much energy it needs, and from that point onward Valentin becomes unnecessary. The floor rumbles slightly, the first warning sign of what was to come, and suddenly the whole array seems to... well... explode. The impressive jet of flame that Leifong had conjured is rendered pathetic in comparison to the beourgeoning guyser of unholy power which suddenly tears up through the ground, threatening to consume anything caught in it's path, including the butcher were he not to back up post-haste. "This is why Artemesius is a fool." Leifong states as though nothing spectacular were happening, and all the while great waves of raw power filter through the room. "He ignored the potential inherent in blood, and it is that error which lead to his destruction some six years after this bit of hocum was penned. You see, an array designed to be fed on your own power, or the power of any non renewable source, should be constructed with a limitation to how much power it consumes. It's a small detail which can be ignored when the effect is well within your means, but when you begin moving into the realms of magic which requires far more power than you can produce, you must draw energy from a deeper well. Artemesius was an arrogant, blustery sort. And so it was that one day, he attempted some feat of magic or another at a galla event held by lord Uther von Serraco in the 12th year of his rule. No one will ever know what nonsense he was attempting, i'm afraid. For the moment Artemesius activated the first sigil of his array, it consumed him and by extension of his blood, all eight of his children who were present at the event." The priest chuckles as he slowly walks around the great fountain of black fire, which was showing no sign of slowing or receding. "Were you to leave this active, it would continue to vomit forth power until the conceivable end of the world, and quite likely beyond, given the source of it's power."
Valentin finds his suspicions affirmed. Leifong was almost exactly like the twisted git who'd necked him. The Haruspex' retreat was all Valentin needed to tell him his physical presence at the seal was going to prove a personal liability. What the butcher didn't know was the exact limit of what was required before he could extract himself from the process - thus, Valentin chose the less elegant method of hurling himself backwards at the first sign of a rumble, landing on his back to roll awkardly legs-over-head to regain a kneeling position. Any grumbling is cut short by the eruption of energies. Retrieving his bowler hat and setting it back on his grizzled ginger crown, the butcher comments "Impressive, guv." Valentin continues to silently take in Leifong's explanations, before asking the question relating more closely to his own plans "An' can this kind o'thing work on a movin' platform? For arguments' sake, say, a mobile beacon o' black flame drawn by horse or similar, the circle engraved on a durable surface. Not that there's a need f'such a beacon, but it's the hypothetical feasibility I'm askin' about."
Leifong nods his affirmation. "Indeed it could be. So long as the array is constructed properly, it should matter little what you attach it to." The priest holds out a palm toward the guyser of flame, and with a controlled application of his power, causes a small bit of the floor that his seal was carved in to crack. The instant reaction is that the flow of mana ceases, and the flames die away. "Any other questions, while we are on the topic?"
Valentin nods, and decides to play it straight "Not quite a question, Haruspex, But I'd like your advice. Essentially, guv, what I'm workin' on is somethin' whereby I can fill a large metal box w'the emanations o'the cryumbral tides, stick it on a wagon, and keep bodies fresh an' frozen for long distance deliveries. Now, the first problem I had was th'power supply, because as y'mentioned, Artemesius couldn't hook a horse to a cart without losin' one or t'other, or both." The butcher points towards one of the other books on the table "I was leanin' to Vandon LeRouge's 'Crimson Chains', what with how it slowly drained a bloke of his life essence to fuel his own magical restraints - I figured it might be rigged up instead t'have some random git and 'is blood power the cryumbral tides instead o' Vandon's shackles." Valentin shrugs, still unsure of the feasibility of such at this stage "An' I still have work t'do on the actual bindin's for th'box. I cribbed a bit from Ulrich Heinholtz - his containment circle f'minor elementals - an' mixed it wi' the bits m'sire came up with to allow f'binding a cryumbral golem in place for a time." Admittedly, Valentin had stolen that book from his sire, knowing it to be his treatise on the black tides, often in his sire's hand when instructing Valentin. He hadn't been able to read it much until just recently, though, care of Lorkain's lessons. "I also need t'be able to design a similar thing on a larger scale, innit, an' I'm thinkin' what y'just showed me is th'key to makin' it doable." The butcher's shop, when completed, was going to be a thing of terrible beauty in Valentin's eyes: abysmally dark, unnaturally cold, and filled with hanging carcasses of all varieties. And the wyrmpit, oh yes, the pit for his burgeoning colony of gravewyrms. How they would feast. "I'd 'preciate y'critique when I got a few more details on th'sigil an' circle arrangements a bit more ironed out."
Leifong considers the butcher's problem thoughtfully for a moment, a courtesy not given to just anyone, mind. Even with his clearly limited knowledge, the priest found Valentin to be full of potential, and he had a desperate need for competent help. "A modification of LeRouge's method is... ingenuitive. But in the end is subject to the same failings of Artemesius'. No... you will want a more powerful source-point than some random flesh battery." Leifong paces for a moment, and then dissolves into the shadows, leaving Valentin to wonder if he'd suddenly remembered a very important date. Yet after a minute or so, he appears again with a pile of texts cradled in his arms. "This is Selwyn Thromback's dissertation on closed loop portals." the priest says with a huff as he tosses a particularly thick tome coated in ages of dust onto the table. "I would give particular note to his creation of a permanent 'window' between two points as a possible alternative to what you are proposing. A link between the inside of your container, and some forgotten corner of the far north, perhaps." Then he moves to the next book in the stack, a rectangular volume that appears to be bound in human skin. "Eclestorias' 'Proin Nisl'" he continues, dropping this one down on top of the first "for the advancement of your knowledge on the base principles of sigil creation and proper manipulation of mana currents." the next three are tossed down as a set, a matching trio of cracked little leather bound books. "Exploratione Occulta Velum, volumes one through three, by Trianse. And finally..." The last book is by far the least impressive looking, but is quite likely the most useful of the bunch. "A Scholarly Approach to the Arcane , by the Wizard Jenkins." This book, unlike the others, seems to have been paged through sometime in recent memory. And also unlike the others, seems to be written in such a way that even the most common of farmers could understand it. "This is where i advise you to start."
Valentin nods appreciatively "Shall do, Haruspex. I'll be keepin' those points in mind. M'thanks for the research material - advantage o'not needin' sleep is an increase in time t'get useful things done, innit."
Leifong doesn't nod in return, which is to be expected, though he is more impressed with Valentin than he would let on. "You should keep me apprised of your progress in this venture, Scleratus. I am interested to see what you make of the 'Exploratione Occulta Velum'. I would also encourage you to make another visit to my workshop. There is much i would be willing to teach in exchange for a bit of work."
Valentin nods "Workin's what I do best, guv. I'm a simple bloke at 'eart. Set me a task, an' the task gets done, or I get done in. There's only ever two outcomes possible, innit." The Scleratus starts picking up the books "Aside from th'black tides - umbral, cryumbral, and pyrumbral - I've only got th'bare bones o'knowledge on the other dark arts Lorkain's been tryin' to cram into me. Guildmistress is goin' to run me through basic reanimation, o'course, but there's also the phobomancy which I'm curious 'bout, along with all the rest." Valentin scratches a shaggy muttonchop "After m'next task for the Thanatos Domina is completed, I'll make m'self available for y'instructions, Haruspex"
Leifong is quite satisfied with the butcher's response to his suggestions, and his willingness to learn. "Ahh... phobomancy does always seem to draw the most interesting of sorts." and then he chuckles, a sound far more horrible than it was meant to be. "Assuming that you survive Jolie, i shall be expecting you to make progress in your studies. Do not shirk them. When we next meet, i will expect you to have memorized the 12 base principles of arcane study as outlined by the Wizard Jenkins. Until then, may you walk in Vakmatharas' grace." With that said, Leifong disintegrates into nothing, whisps of his deconstructed form blowing away into the darkness.