RP:The Reanimater

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Summary: Seeking entrance into the Necromancer's Guild, Lord Xzeanelenan Faelrlyn tracks down Lady Quintessa Dragana and boldly approaches the woman. Intrigued by this vampire, the Baroness gives Xzean a test to prove his skills and is impressed enough to provide him the admission he sought.

Kelay Tavern

Quintessa is a semi-regular patron at this particular establishment, and as such has already found a seat that she always claims when she drinks here. Sitting at the far left end of the bar, the changeling nurses a glass of whiskey, watching as the ice melts and waters down her drink slowly in the heat of the summer night. Seeking to combat this heat, Quintessa is dressed in simple clothing; A black sundress, belt, and heeled boot combo for venturing out into the local area. The hex blade carries no visible weapons, but this girl was a notoriously dangerous sort who was rarely unarmed, and besides that, her proclivities for using dark magic had gained her much attention. Few openly crossed her. Mismatched eyes of sapphire and topaz casually glance at the newcomers, surveying them carefully before returning to her drink. Once the first was finished, Quintessa motioned for a second whiskey as she silently slid her gold coins across the table. Alone and bored, the young necromancer waits for something interesting to happen. Who knows? On a night like this anything is possible.

Xzean watches this particular changeling out of the corner of his milky white eyes. It was easily to take this elf as already dead, with those eyes. But they were backed with a cursed red light that grew larger the longer it was looked upon. This changeling was obviously the one he had heard about, the one that would be his key to opening the door to the Necromancer's guild. Does he dare approach her...yes, he would. Xzean gets up and turns around, and licks his fangs in nervousness. He walks over to the changeling, clad in robes of faded black and sits down next to her. He doesn't say a word but his intention is plain.

Quintessa allows her attention to flicker over to Xzean as he silently sits next to her, and the young spellcaster cannot help but smirk as her curiosity takes hold. Her head tilts slightly as blue and hazel optics take him in, noting the clearly vampiric vibe Xzean was giving off. Quintessa didn't recognize him, but it was obvious to her that he knew of the changeling. Why else would he sit so closely to her? "Evening," she greets the man as her left hand extends for her refreshed drink and lifts it closely to her soft, pink lips. "You look lost," There is a tiny hint of humor in her cold tone. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Xzean nods, and speaks for the first time, his tone one of an echo of the sepulcher, "Indeed Lady. I shall be frank, I believe you would enjoy brevity. I seek entrance to the Necromancer's guild." He sat, and he was very still, the stillness of death as he waited for the response of the changeling. He did know her name but thought that it might be crude to assume by speaking it first.

Quintessa takes a long drink of her whiskey before she answers, letting the request linger in her mind for a moment as she mulls it over. "I could easily arrange such a thing," Quintessa says, placing her glass back on the bar as she turns slightly in her seat to face him. "But I would have to test your abilities first, you understand. The Necromancer's Guild is for serious practitioners of the dark arts... But first perhaps we should introduce ourselves." The changeling dips her cranium low in a greeting before starting her name. "I am Baroness Quintessa Dragana, Warden of the Dark Forest. And you are?"

Xzean similarly nods his head, significantly deeper than hers, lowering himself into a half-bow. He responds, his voice containing perhaps the slight bit of arousal, in the literal sense, "I am Lord Xzeanelenan Faelrlyn of the High Elven Housholds of Light. That was a long time ago, centuries or more. Now I simply go by Xzean. I am sick of hearing mortals butcher my name, when I bother to share it before their own slaughter." He finishes, raising his head and looking at her with the red glint in his eyes.

Quintessa feels the corners of her mouth twist upward at the introduction, at the claims of slaughtering mortals for mispronouncing his name. This elven vampire was of a curious sort, that much was certain. "A pleasure," is all she says before lifting her whiskey to take a long drink and setting it back down to be abandoned as she rises to her feet. "No use in wasting any more time- would you mind stepping outside with me? Mesthak doesn't appreciate me using magic in here... not after the last few times." Quintessa fixes her dress in preparation for her exit, casually walking for the door as her heeled, knee-length boots click against the wooden floor. The changeling always preferred it when recruits came to her and she did not have to hunt them down. Secretly, Quintessa was excited to test this new one.

Kelay Way

Kelay: the most famous part of the land. Something is happening. But you don't know what and by the looks of all the villagers around, and their confused expressions, neither do they. For the moment though it seems relatively calm, whether it is the calm before the storm though is yet to be seen. Perhaps more can be found out in the tavern to the north? Perhaps shelter in the great cities to the east and west could be found as well? You ponder which direction you should take and wonder if it will lead you onto your destiny be that glory, or death

Quintessa stands in the middle of the road here, an area that had witnessed many, many death duels right in front of the very establishment they had just exited. People get drunk, get a big head, and then get gutted only to rot in the gutter a few feet from the pair of necromancers. Their bones would likely still be buried under the dirt here, at least that is Quintessa's hope. "So, Lord Xzeanelenan," the changeling's educated tongue was able to pronounce the elvish name easily and clearly, "As you might already know, the Dark Arts are a tradition as old as time itself. Even before the Dark Immortals came and gifted us with the curse of vampirism, there were already those dabbling in necromancy. My question is simply this: Which art do you wish to specialize in most?"

Xzean walks with Quintessa, as they walk outside the tavern. He can feel quite a bit of death here, which has left him very curious. His head kept swiveling back and forth, watching for danger, but for naught. He replies to Quintessa, in his low voice, "The Art as a whole holds my interests. However, if you mean where does my black heart lay? In the arts of the Reanimator."

Xzean continues, "The very art of placing life into what has died. The power of life and death, all these things drew me towards the arts of the reanimator."

Quintessa grins, her sharp teeth flashing at the man when he speaks of his desires to perfect the art of resurrection and summoning. "The Reanimater," she muses, taking a liking to the title. "The most basic, but also the most pure, form of necromancy. You will have plenty of opportunities to master reanimation under my guild's tutelage. That and much, much more." Quintessa extends a lithe, pale hand out to her side, slowly channeling negative energy around her wrist in the form of a lime green mist. "Around us are the bones of mortals and immortals alike that met their fates at the hands of their betters. Many of them died and were left to rot. Alone, Forgotten. But not completely useless..." The green mist trails down into the earth to grasp the bones of some fallen human, forcing life, or perhaps more accurately un-life, into this skeletal being. Not much longer after she had done this, her minion bursts from the earth, the same green-hued magic burning like pits on fire in its eyes. "If you can animate one- or many of bones that lie undisturbed here, I will grant you admission into the Guild as a Novus Morior grade necromancer. Is this agreeable?"

Xzean laughs quietly at the challenge, making it obvious what he thinks of the difficulty of the task. He splays his right hand in front of him as black and purple energy gather around his feet as well as causing his hand to glow. He brings up his left hand and makes several gestures in the air. After, he takes out a ritual knife he keeps on his belt. Rolling up the sleeve of his robe the cut he gave himself started off deep, dripping blood onto the ground for a few moments. That is as long as it takes for his vampiric form to heal itself. The effect starts slowly, a slight rumble in the ground. Then, a hardy fleshed hand burst free from the ground. Then another, and another. Soon, dozens of hands pop up as the beginnings of a small army begin to crawl to the surface. Many of those raised are skeletal, although throughout there are those who died recently enough that they are still clothed in their flesh. The skeletons however, look sturdy, the magic of his Art keeping them together easily. As the army begins to form, they gravitate towards their master, awaiting their first command.

Quintessa || The changeling's grin only grows as Xzean summons more and more undead into his service, her mismatched eyes surveying the variable army of skeletal remains. "Perfect," she says, the magic quickly being snuffed from her lone skeleton as it crumbles back to the dirt from which it sprung forth. "Bradyn Mahara will be most pleased to hear about this. You easily pass the test. Most impressive." Already the changeling is thinking of ways to utilize this vampire in her nefarious schemes. Perhaps Xzean would be the key to defeating the warrior Krice so she could curse the Druid's Eternal Tree without interruption. "I will head back to the Black Library in Vailkrin to report your initiation. The undead you summoned here are yours to do with as you please in the meantime, though I do suggest you not cause -too- much trouble. I'd hate to see your talent snuffed out before it can be nurtured further." Quintessa places her hands upon her hips as she gives Xzean one last examination. "Is there anything else you'd like to talk to me about before I take my leave?"

Xzean shakes his head, waving a pale as death hand, The ranks of the zombies and skeletons crumble, eventually turning to dust on the ground. "I have nothing, but to give me thanks," he says, "Do we have a guild hall? If so, where?"

Quintessa shakes her head. "We do not yet have an official Necromancer's Guild hall, though I am personally looking in to having one built. Meanwhile we simply utilize the Death Cult Temple, Black Library, and the surrounding graveyards and mausoleums as our base of operations. My allies in House Mahara keep this area safe for our use, so I shall let them know to expect you." Quintessa steps forward slowly, reaching into her satchel for something. "Before I go... A parting gift, if you will."

Quintessa gave 1 Minor Book of Dead to Xzean.

Xzean takes in the information with a nod of his head. He responds with a question, "House Mahara? Which nobility is this from? And there is no need for gifts, but I will not stop you." Xzean chuckles.

Quintessa said to Xzean, "House Mahara is a vampire house, much like House Dragana. Together the vampire houses rule over Vailkrin, the City of the Dead... although there have been tensions growing for years. Even a civil war. I blame a lack of central leadership. We haven't had a monarch since the great King Kasyr."

Xzean nods his head in thanks to Quintessa, and repsonds with, "I shall have to visit ths...Vailkrin."

Quintessa smiles at the man before departing. "I think it would be most advantageous if you did that. If you have any other concerns do not hesitate to reach out to me. I am the shield of Vailkrin, and as a vampire I consider your well-being of top priority. Fare thee well, Lord Xzean."