RP:The Signing of the Charter
This is a Mage's Guild RP.
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
Background
The creation of the long-awaited Necromancer's Guild is finalised by the signing of its official charter.
Tiphareth paces into the dark lit tavern, eyes scoping the scene for Tenebrae's presence. Within a moment's time the Drow spots the necromancer and proceeds to make his way toward her, a cylindrical tube clasped within his elongated ebon digits.
Jolie wouldn't have been hard to find - the drow could, with his eyes closed, simply have followed his nose to the fireside chair beside which was a table with a bottle of absinthe on it. The necromancer seated in that chair stank - to put it both mildly and kindly - of char and swamp-muck, and was smirched with smears of mud on all visible portions of skin. Her shoulder bore a heavy cloth pad, which Jolie held in place gingerly, while she scowled at the fire. Tiphareth's arrival was greeted with a terse nod, and a wince of pain. "Eldermage."
Tiphareth nods toward Tenebrae, the necromancer looking somewhat worse for wear in her current state. The Eldermage stands for a moment, taking in her visage of filth and disarray. "It looks as though you've had a rough evening, perhaps another time would better suit our business?"
Jolie shook her head. "No, no." She even managed a weak smile. "Always a pleasure to see you. Please, do join me." The sineater wrinkled her nose. "If you don't mind the stink, that is. My apologies. Ant-sloths. Nasty buggers." This half-explanation given, she'd call to Steadman to bring her a basin of water and a clean cloth before canting a glance back to Tiphareth. "Business?"
Tiphareth takes a seat across from Jolie, the Drow seemingly not bothered in the least by what some would call her offensive odor. The drow was used to all manor of mold, mildew, muck and filth within the dank and humid confines of the Underdark, which often had an aroma that is musty at best, though acrid is all the more common. "Indeed, business, regarding the Charter we disgussed... and no apology is needed. I have here the document in question, and unless you see reason to further delay the process, we can make the new Necromancer's Guild official.
Jolie blinked gently, and then offered Tiphareth a somewhat dazzling smile - through the mud on her face. "Official!" The delighted squeak's follow-up was interrupted by Steadman with that water and the cloth, placed on the table beside the absinthe. "If you wouldn't mind," she'd manage, once the barman had gone, "Waiting just a moment, for me to clean up a little? I'd not want the paperwork to get muck on it." The cloth, soaked in blood, was lifted away from her shoulder, the wound already coagulated thickly. She soon had the dirt and gore mostly under control. Well, her hands and face were clean, by the end of it.
Meanwhile, Jolie told Tiphareth about her encounter with Kuzial's father, though she didn’t name the drow or his House. "And then... the old man died," she finished, tossing the cloth in the basin. "I had the most awful headache after. Now.. am I supposed to sign something? I'm awfully grateful for your help in this, you know."
Tiphareth seems a bit taken aback by the Necromancers sudden revelation about the Drow patriarch. "That was you..." the Drow paused for a moment, almost as if in shock at Tenebrae's candor in the matter. "I felt something of utter darkness within the vicinity of Trist'oth, but could not place it's origin. I was actually going to inquire as to any possible necromancers of power you knew in the depths, I now see that is unnecessary." The Eldermage shakes his head a bit, "You may want to keep this 'adventure' to yourself in the future, the Drow keep secret plans secret for a reason. Were other Houses to find out that a surface dweller had interfered in the House hierarchy, the surface could face a potential war with the denizens of the deep. At the very least you could expect personal retribution from unknown allies of the former patron." Tiphareth lets out a long sigh as he processes the information just heard, "At any rate, back to the matter at hand, the Charter." The Drow pulls two large vellum sheets from the tube he'd been carrying and lays them out flat upon the table, ensuring the surface was rather clean so as not to inadvertently soil the important documents. "Here we have two copies of the Charter agreement, identical in every way. One will be housed within your Guild Headquarters, and the other kept by the Mages Guild. We shall both sign the documents and I shall seal them with the official insignia of the Mage's Guild."
Jolie resembled nothing more than a censured child when the Eldermage offered his dire advice. "Oh," she said, clearly dismayed - she might be familiar with the trappings of his culture, but the details, let alone the intricacies of it politics were quite unknown to her. "Sorry. Noted." Her bubble of pride in a job well done quite deflated now, she listened to the rest raptly, and not a little glad for a change of topic. Jolie's peridot gaze swept over the documents. "Very well. Where do I sign, please?"
Tiphareth points down to the bottom of the page where a large blank margin is available for the signature. A magical quill is retrieved by the Eldermage along with a small glass vial of ink, both packed neatly away in his satchel. The pen is handed over to the Necromancer while he places the ink vial upon the table. "You may now do the honors."
Jolie dipped the pen's nib in the ink, shaking it gently into the vial to remove excess fluid, and then signed with a flourish. She'd lay the pen down after, and study the vellum again. "This is quite momentous, Tiphareth. A vision I've held for a very long time." Those pale eyes rose to meet his. "Necromancy will be better for it. It is a great thing the Guild had done, here." A shy smile - shy, mainly for the enormity of her blunder in yapping about the soul stone's creation - and her hands clapped together. "So the Necromancer's Guild exists now?"
Tiphareth takes up the pen within his own grasp, a brief glance offered toward the Master Necromancer signifying that the Eldermage indeed knows of this moment's significance. "The tip is gently dipped within the ink vessel much as previously done by Tenebrae before putting pen to parchment as his signature is scrawled upon the margin in a location and size symmetrical to that placed by the necromancer. The pen is dipped on more time and the process is repeated on the second document. A small wax cylinder is removed from his pack, the Drow holding it over a nearby candle for a brief moment to sufficiently melt the tip. A dab of wax is placed carefully at the top center of each document. Tiphareth removes a ring from his finger, blowing on it slightly as an unspoken enchantment sends a chill upon the metal seal on its surface. With a rapid gesticulation the Drow rolls the seal across each of the documents, setting the insignia into the wax whilst hardening it in the process. The seal begins to radiate a soft rubicund light as spirals arcane force course through the document, decorating it's borders and margins with flourishes to delicate to be scribed by hand. Upon the completion of weaving lines, the whole surface of the vellum charters seems to emit a radiant mystic aura. "That... is it. The Necromancer's Guild is now official." The Drow takes up his version of the Charter and rolls it carefully, to be placed back within the transportation tube. "I look forward to our continued relationship, both business and personal."
Jolie seemed to have to forgotten all about her mistake, in the excitement of the moment. "I already have my eye on our very first member, actually. A likely lass, keen of wit and not scared of a corpse." She called again to Steadman, "Bring us some wine, Steady. Bubbly, to celebrate." And then said to the Eldermage, "I do too. Look forward to it, I mean. I wondered if perhaps we might catch up, actually, in a day or two. To discuss some.. business. Will you have a drink, though?"
Tiphareth leans in to whisper to Tenebrae.
Tiphareth whispered to Jolie, "Your spell-work within the Underdark was rather outstanding, it's a definite shame that the artful craft must be kept under wraps."
Jolie’s face would flush with pleasure at the whispered words, and she pressed her forefinger against her lips as a silent promise to.. keep silent, in future.
Tiphareth nods in agreement to Jolie's offer, even though he never drinks surface spirits and is even less likely to indulge in drinks offered from others supply; but against better judgement the Drow humors the Necromancer by honoring her celebratory custom. "I will share a drink with you today M'Lady."
Steadman took great delight in playing pranks on some of the regulars, and was not above poisoning the odd one out of spite, but knew better than to tamper with any liquor he might serve to his quick-tempered employer, and the thought to do so to one as powerful as the mage would never at all enter his head. Thus, they were served the tavern’s very best champagne, a delicate and toasty wine that Jolie had purchased at great expense from the finest vintner in Xalious. Two slender flutes were set out and filled. Jolie took one up and raised it. “Once more, I thank you, Tiphareth.” She sipped it, just to show him there was nothing nasty in it.
Tiphareth took up the flute delicately within his digits, awaiting her sip from the spirit before he took the first taste of her offered wine. The Drow knew this was no assurance of safety, but followed suit anyway. The carbonated beverage was odd to the Drow, who's favored beverages were utterly devoid of such bubbly texture. The taste was far better than what he expected for the surface wines, though still at odds with his palette, though the Eldermage showed no signs of it as he outwardly appeared to enjoy her fine concoction. "I thank you as well, together we have advanced the cause of magic within the realm, may the seeds of knowledge we've planted on this day mature into a body which rivals the Xalious tree itself."
Jolie said, “Indeed.” She added, after another sip, “I am counting on it. And have my work cut out for me, I think, filling all those positions. Some of the lessons will, of course, be useful to your own people, who are more than welcome to join the basic levels. I am thinking, in particular, of Poisons and Potions, as well as Curses. I’ve researched some terribly obscure sources for those spells, but one never knows when one might come across somebody who had also read them. Better prepared than sorry, as they say.”
Tiphareth takes another sip of the wine, this one larger than the first. "I will likely send Korike to you if you'll accept them into your ranks, they have been studying diligently with Lorkain for some time, which is a feat unto itself given his attitude toward neophytes. I hope they may find a place within your organization as I've had limited ability to give them suitable training in the necromantic arts."
Jolie frowned then. Didn't she know that name from somewh... "Korike? Shadow gnome, am I correct?"
Tiphareth nods in response to Jolie's inquiry, "Yes he is a shadow gnome, that is correct."
Tiphareth said to Jolie, "Have you ever been to House D'Artes within the Underdark? I can not recall if Keter ever hosted you there..."
Jolie shook her head, answering the latter first. "I never had the honour, sadly. But I have met Korike. He was here the other day, making shadow... doves." The necromancer pursed her lips. "I shall endeavour to be kind to him. For I fear that Leifong quite probably will not be. He seems gifted enough with the shadows, though."
Tiphareth grins slightly, "I request no kindness for him, only that you offer him any instruction that he shows himself worthy of. No more, no less. And yes, his kind does have a natural gift for illusion and shadows, I found it strange that he chose Necromancy for a field of specialty."
Jolie lifted a brow. "Darkness does have a way of creeping into the soul, Eldermage. Perhaps he's one of the more.. absorbent persons." She shrugged, returned his grin. "I think you'll like Leifong, despite his... personality. Tremendously quick learner." Almost scarily so, she didn't add, not giving him even that much compliment or credit aloud. One never knew where the priest was lurking... "And Taylor.. lass I was talking about before. I have hopes for her. Killers always do make the best necromancers - butchers, too, and the like. Strong stomachs."
Tiphareth finishes his drink and places the flute gently down on the table. "Indeed, I'm sure the stomach must be iron for some facets of your art. Well, thank you for your drink Tenebrae, though I must be going now to get on with business. I will look forward to our future interaction, as we still have the matter of poisons and such to discuss.
Jolie stood, wincing at the dull throb of the crossbow bolt's shallow furrow in her shoulder when she held her hand out. "See you soon, Tiphareth. It's indeed been a pleasure."
Tiphareth stands from his comfortable position within the seat across from the necromancer. "Good day, Tenebrae, until we meet again." With that, gliding footsteps carry Drow northward into the darkened avenue which leads to his homeland.