RP:The Price of Flesh

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Summary: Goren seeks out Larewen in search of a new flesh and body, but the powerful necromancer isn't about giving things away for free. Protoflesh is something known to the upper echelon of the Necromancer's Guild, and in order to please Larewen, Goren is going to have to work for it. Simultaneously, Larewen wrests control of the undead from his original master.

The Hanging Corpse

Larewen was seated near the hearth, a glass of bloodwine on the table before her and a smoldering cigarette held betwixt index and middle finger. She it to her lips for a long drag, followed by an slow exhale. In front of the elf a ghastly tome was open. Mismatched eyes, the left silver and seeing, and the right brown and blind, were fixed upon its pages. Every bit of the necromancer’s flesh was carved with blackened runes, save for the right side of her face and what part of her chest was exposed bore a ‘Y’ shaped scar.

Goren stretches himself as he walked in through the door to the rather bland place, the undead looking like a piece of human jerky, despite all his efforts to restore himself, the thick chains around his wrist dragging along the floor as he slouched slightly, visibly tired as he looks around, looking at the other patrons until he spotted the master necromancer. Forget grapevines, he'd seen her directly through one of the minds he'd taken from Larket's dead, cracking his hands as he looks over to her and slides over, subtlety wasn't his strongsuit, but soon he had planted himself down near her and coughed slightly, rubbing his half-decayed voicebox to loosen the cords as he begun to speak in that deep, rasping voice, "Larewen?" He scratches his chin, waiting for her to confirm.

Larewen turned her head toward the uninvited guest, briefly fitting him with a glower that soon transformed into an arched brow and a curious click of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Her left eye took in his appearance, making note of the withered flesh and heavy chains whilst the right sought to decipher the threads of magic that coursed within him: both his own and that by which he was re-animated. The cigarette was lowed to rest in a groove of an obsidian ashtray, its smoldering cherry slowly eating away at the tobacco within. “And you are?” she asked, her voice a hauntingly sweet, silvery note. Beneath the scarring, ebon veins webbed across her pale flesh. She had not seen this particular corpse before and there was much she could say about his state. For the moment, she held her tongue on that matter.

Goren leans forward in his seat and rested his elbows against his legs, looking at her quietly as the glowing flames that hard replaced his long-decayed eyes stared her over, unmoving and unyielding, although it wasn't like he had much choice in his current state, the long chains had runes engraved upon the surface, which had been long corrupted with his own blood, changing the shape and intent behind them, and they glowed visibly more as he leant closer to the woman, "I am Goren. You must forgive me if I do not offer my hand, the temptation to skim your brain would simply be too much for me." He opens his palm and reveals a similar glowing rune upon his palm, his gaunt visage stay in place as he spoke, "I am led to believe you might know a little something about my... kind." He nods, happy with his decision of words, "And that you may be able to help me with my current predicament.

Larewen studied the chains and then the rune upon his hand, her lips curling into a tight smirk. “I would not wish to be you, were you to fall victim to such temptation,” the elf sneered. Goren was not the first to be tempted, and undoubtedly he would not be the last. It was for those reasons that the necromancer kept her mind guarded, rarely allowing others to see the memories within, let alone the knowledge she had come to possess. Though she was tempted to reach out, to touch the decaying flesh of the sentient corpse, she did not. At least, not yet. “I do, and I would be ashamed to let one wander in such poor condition. Especially if I have the power to improve upon their existence - with the exception of those that might wish to remain as they are.” Most notably, Trajek came to mind. She’d offered to mend his death wounds, to fix the rot that ate away at him, and yet he refused. “I suppose that depends on what, precisely, you seek,” she continued, reaching for the glass of wine and then changing her mind midway through the movement. “And I assume you know that all things come with a price.”

Goren looks at her and nods, "Of course, though money is immaterial. Someone of your stature is unlikely to desire more wealth." He looks at the wine and leans back, the cloak upon his back occasionally showing the gaunt faces of the memories he had captured in their death-throes, the silent screaming of those crush and killed by the crumbling Larket before the undead had cracked their skulls to reach the memories within. He took a moment to stretch out those desiccated muscles and taunt skin, "But, I can make better offers. I know you would have minds stored and creatures that have knowledge you desire." he cracks his knuckles and looks at her, "I can provide you any knowledge you wish provided you simply give me a subject to take it from." He nods, pretty happy with his offer, "Though I seek something more... ellaborate... than what most necromancers can give, so, I figured I would visit the best of the best." He took a deep breath, merely a gesture, his need for air had long-since past, "I need a new form. This body, it's disgusting. Though I may heal slightly from the necrotic magic keeping me alive, but, you should know as well as anyone, that only goes so far."

Larewen clicked her tongue a second time against the top of her mouth and leaned back in her chair. Beneath her dress, a scarred leg rose and crossed over the other. She tapped a finger against the arm of the chair she sat within. His offer was far better than most that came her way. Her head tilted slightly, dark tresses briefly obscuring her face before marred fingers rose upward to tuck the errant strands behind her ear. “On the contrary, I find it rather beautiful. Shoddy work, yes, but beautiful nonetheless,” she reflected. “You are correct though, especially since most of your kind are tethered to their creator. Given that you’ve sought me out, I can only imagine that you and your creator are on less than desirable terms - that is, if you and your master share any ties at all any more.” She waited for his confirmation, giving him the opportunity to elaborate on what exactly he desired.

Goren looks at her and nods, "Yes, well, I can say that if I knew who created me, they'd almost certainly be dead." He shakes his head and rubs his hands together, "Yes, what do I desire." He looks back to her and nods, "I believe some of the mages in Larket dabbled in your art, though obviously, not in a way that would be as skilled as your own skilled hand." He leans back, "I have heard rumors of a different kind of flesh. Something almost living, though not quite." He taps his skull, making a dull thunk echo through his mouth, "I want to be removed from this, thing, and placed in something new. I do not know how it is done, but I know if anyone can do it, it would be you. There must be something in your tomes, hidden somewhere, about this flesh, yes?"

Larewen might have choked on her cigarette or wine if she’d been in the process of inhaling or consuming one or the other. It wasn’t that his request surprised her as much as it amused her. She expressed as much with a short bark of laughter as she shook her head. Her brow furrowed and she shifted again, this time to lean against an arm of her chair. Clearly the necromancer was unsurprised by the possibility of Goren’s master being dead - the magic was, after all, quite faint. “There is, yes,” she confirmed finally. “But that knowledge is… Well, how should I put it? The price on that far exceeds what you have offered.”

Goren looks at her and nods, "Of course it does." He shakes his head and strums his fingers upon the side of his chair, the thin skin protecting the bones allowing his to get a rather steady thrum going to it, "So what is it you desire?" He looks at her, he was rather sick of having to drain whatever energy he could get from the living and dead like some sort of memory vampire, but it had kept him alive so far, his aching bones and lack of muscles never ceased to annoy him, "Everyone has some desire. You don't seem the type to want to forget your memories either, so I feel an offer of those services would not be enough. Tell me what I would need."

Larewen fell into a pregnant silence as she mulled over the options she had available for Goren. The necromancer wasn’t the sort that simply bestowed such gifts upon others, especially those whom she’d just met, and thus that worked against the undead. “Amass the power and ability to do it yourself, under my tutelage and within the ranks of the Necromancer’s guild. Then, when you’ve proven yourself to me and to the Guild, I will grant you the knowledge you seek and your desire to be more than a shambling corpse will be granted.” There was more to be said, but the elf waited for his answer before saying anything more on the subject.

Goren looks at her and pauses, he didn't have a hell of a lot of options, and his thirst for knowledge was always there waiting, so he nodded, looking around as he covered the palm of his hand with a napkin and held it out to her, although the chilling embrace was still there, at least he was not able to probe her mind, or bestow the feelings he carried with him upon her, "Deal."

Larewen reached for his hand, feeling little difference in temperature between his touch and her own. The mental wards within her mind were fortified with an unspoken spell and then her lips parted. From her mouth came words of an unholy nature. It was an assault on the very threads of magic that reanimated Goren as she drew her hand away, something to be felt deep within his very being. What traces of magic remained from his raising were diminished, overcome and overpowered by something darker, stronger, and corrupt as the necromancer took hold, took control over what had been left abandoned within the undead mage. With the influx of her own magic came renewed strength, amplified by the dark cadence of the spell she cast.

Goren gasps visibly as he felt the surge overcome him, his body shuddering as he struggled to resist the feelings overcoming his mind, it was if he very soul had been ripped out and replaced, grasping his chest as if he had a heartbeat once more and stared at her in shock, he was not prepared for that at all, and his mind was still racing as he shakes his head, "W-what the hell was that?" He looks down at his hands and flexed them, the glow on his chains growing ever brighter as the necrotic feel had taken him over, but at least his body was whole once more, even if he was still leathery and worn, the gaps that had been eaten away by rot had been replenished, so at the very least, he was more comfortable and as he looked himself over he noticed the repairs, "Uuuh. Thank you?"

Larewen nudged her chair back and rose to her feet in lieu of his gratitude. “That was but a taste of my magic,” the elf said simply. It wasn’t boasting inasmuch as it was fact. “You are of no use to myself or the Guild if you are unable to perform at your full potential. The magic that I sensed within you is of an arcane nature. You will need your strength to learn the darker elements of that. I speak from experience, and because I succeeded, I expect no less from you. I will find you for your first lesson in the dark arts before a week passes. Until then, I suggest you seek some reading material, Goren.” With those words, the elf took her leave.