RP:Understanding Death

Summary: Gevurah finds Revan at the Grand Temple of Vakmatharas in Vailkrin and agrees to take him on as an apprentice in order to teach him the ways of the death god, but trust is not easily earned as she dispatches Vakko to stalk the undead man and report his routine.

The Grand Temple of Vakmatharas

Revan stands at the alter of the temple with his rotting hand cupping a skull that once belonged to a human his thoughts on what turn of events could have possible led to the artifact finding it's home here in the Grand Temple of Vakmatharas - had the owner been a follower? A victim? The question burned into Revan's thoughts before mirroring the same question upon himself. Once a mortal man with a bright future his own corruption and idiocy had led to his untimely demise by the hands of a woman he once considered his friend and even in death he was unable to find peace in the afterlife, his soul denied entry to any realm other than the one he stands upon now donning a suit of rotting flesh with a throat so battered he's been rendered a mute only able to communicate with the power of his illusions a single trait he's thankful rolled over into this life. For now, he stands alone in the temple admiring what he's become a living example of; death.

Gevurah arrives on one of her rare trips to the Grand Temple of Vakmatharas in Vailkrin. She prefers the drow temple in Trist’oth. Not only is it walking distance from the D’Artes estate, but her home city’s unwashed and disenfranchised masses smell marginally better than the undead. However, as a High Priestess she is expected to put in appearances at other temples. It is a responsibility someone with her clout could shirk, but to what end? She arrives with an entourage of five D’Artes rogues. Four enter the temple before their charge and select sentry positions at far flung corners. The captain of her guard stays at her back. The High Priestess approaches the altar and immediately senses a disturbance in Revan’s undeath. Most of the undead here were created by necromancers, save a handful which the priestess is already aware of. Revan is new. She murmurs an incantation discreetly under her breath and sees the hand of Vakmatharas imprinted on his un-soul. “You there. What are you?” she asks in a tone that expects answers.

Revan is hardly paying any mind as the rouges take point through out the temple, though his attention is grabbed by the woman standing before him. Bright glowing blue eyes stare to the priestess from beneath a heavy hood, the hand previously cupping the human skull slipping away to pull the cloth from Revan's head reveals a perfectly mirrored image of Gevurah staring back at her, "I am drow, what are you?" the creature retorts in the woman's own voice as a smile slowly spreads across the imposter's face.

Gevurah doesn’t smile. She sucks in her cheeks and purses her lips. Her hands fold before her waist and thumbs toy in a peeved manner against each other and her palms. He is clearly not her. Had he appeared as any other drow, she may have believed the illusion, but her reflection suggests trickery. There is a small possibility this apparition is sent from Vakmatharas Himself to test her, but she begins with the assumption that this is some fool and not Vakmatharas’s intervention — not until the latter is proven, anyway. “Your ruler, if you are drow. It would be impertinent for you to toy with me. Explain yourself.”

Revan scrunches his nose while shaking his head at Gevurah's statement and puts on an expression of disgust while speaking in her own condescending voice "I have no ruler" he boldly states before his appearance begins to rapidly change from hundreds of people the undead man encountered in Hollow during his past life including short glimpses of Skylei, Hildegarde, Josleen, Rinn, Emilia and Vakko all before the illusion suddenly fades and the true form of Revan is left standing before the woman, the undead's face mostly intact but slimy and silvery gray with his throat clearly destroyed beyond repair hinting as to why he chose to take a false form to speak.

Gevurah recognizes Skylei (who she tortured), Hildegarde (who she put a bounty on) and Vakko (who works for her). The priestess stops sneering when Revan reveals his true face, for she is more comfortable with his rot than her own mug transposed on another body. “You are ruled by Him, Vakmatharas. That I can plainly see. Tell me how you came to be.” She pauses thoughtfully then adds for Revan’s benefit. “I am His servant, if that eases your anxiety. His will is mine, as well as His will through you if that is what you serve.”

Revan stares at Gevurah while he ponders her words in his head, was he being ruled after all? Was it Vakmatharas he had spoken too in the darkness? The evidence had mounted quite enough when Revan found himself coming out of that grave and unlike his previous form he surprisingly isn't disgusted by the thought of the gods in fact he felt safe here in the temple almost as if it were his home. He doesn't argue the claim and in response to his origin shrugs opening his mouth though the only noise to emits is a mix of dry heaving followed by gurgling as maggots fall from one of the many holes in his throat. A frustrated and irritated look before his form is suddenly changed to that of his past life, a young human with faded blue hair as it's natural brown returns. "I'm not sure. I was killed and denied passage to another realm. I sat in that box for nearly two years before a woman dug me up."

Gevurah makes for good company for Revan. His dry-rasping and maggot-spewing throat do not disgust her. They don’t strike her fancy either, but she can neutrally co-exist in his presence. “I wonder how it is possible you remained trapped for two years without losing your mind.” Vakmatharas again? Why? “Are you sure the woman is not a necromancer who raised you? Your time in death’s voice could feel like entrapment.”

Revan grows angry at the mention of being raised by a necromancer shouting in a graveled voice "I have NO master!" while a balled fist slams down onto the hobbit skull before him crushing the bone to dust in a show of raw power, the concentration of the illusionist broken as his figure fades once more to his true skin with defiant eyes glaring towards Gevurah accompanied by dirt caked black and yellow teeth gritted in a feral display daring her to question the claim .

Gevurah snarls when Revan destroys the hobbit skull. A translucent slate orb flickers around Gevurah’s frame then fades. “That was an offering, you fool,” she hisses. “You have shattered someone’s unholy aspirations, which was tethered through ritual and prayer to that there skull.” Now some act of evil somewhere in Hollow may not be committed. Dammit, Revan. “Perhaps you *need* a master to educate you in His ways. What use are you, undead and ignorant?”

Revan looks down to the fragments and dust, his chest rising up in what could be interpreted as a sigh before digging his fingernails into the remains to pick them up and sprinkle them across the alter, his true voice echoing in Gevurah's mind as he focuses upon her once more "I will replace the artifact but I will have no master. I have Vakmatharas to thank for my awakening in Hollow and I will serve his name but I will never be commanded by any... master."

Gevurah laughs a cruel throaty laugh. “It isn’t as simple as replacing the skull.” She circles the altar and sweeps the skull fragments into her palm. At the center of the altar is a shallow brass dish. She cuts one palm with a piece of skull and lets a few drops of her own blood spill into the bowl. Then she sets the blood on unnatural fire. The flames are orange and gray. “How will you serve Vakmatharas is you know nothing of how?” She whispers a prayer then lets the skulls fall over the flames. They disintegrate on contact.

Vakko had found himself rather bored this day and had taken to wondering the undead city to see what fun he could fine. A familiar feeling of magic brought him towards the alter. Still shadowed in the graveyard the drow stood, a smaller form next to him heavily cloaked. The mercenary watched the unholy flames flicker to life and illuminate the pair that stood before it. His dark lips pulled back into a slight smile as he recognized both, though the other had to either be a specter or animated corpse. A dragon breaking your neck would tend to lead to such results. For now the drow kept his distance, satisfied with only watching, thought he would make no effort to hide. Half leaning half sitting atop a grave stone the mercenary would make himself comfortable.

Revan hesitates at Gevurah's question running his tongue across broken rotting teeth before pushing himself up from the side of the alter and replacing the heavy hood upon his crown while his voice would once again be heard only by Gevurah in her mind "If he is responsible for my resurrection then he will make it clear on my next step and unless the rot has claimed my mind, the next step is standing directly in front of me."

Gevurah, aware she is standing directly in front of Revan, takes a step back in case Revan should mean to attack her. He could, of course, mean something else. Her imagination leans towards the violent by default. “And what is that next step exactly.” She phrases her question as a statement. Vakko’s presence has not yet been detected by Gevurah, but one of her entourage has spotted him. He locks eyes with the mercenary but says nothing.

Vakko does not even look to the guards, he finds it rather entertaining to annoy her little protectors. He would gave a subtle hand sign to his companion, the smaller hooded figure nodding then all but vanishing into the shadows. He knew the man before the undead, he didn't want to take any chances. Slowly the mercenary would make his way closer to the alter and the pair, his hood pulled low hiding away his features, appearing as just another one of her guards. Though one with drastically different equipment and no visible house insignia. But what could be seen of his face was that dark smile that seems to be ever plastered on his face.

Revan cackles with mucus and dirt flinging from his torn lips as he notices Gevurah's sudden awareness and entertains the idea of assaulting the woman for only a moment before his voice reaches out to her once again, "You are clearly a servant of his bidding and hold a great deal of knowledge in the art, you will teach me and I will learn. But you would be wise not to get it twisted, I will be an apprentice, not a servant. I -will- maintain my free will... Though loyalty may well be a trait I've learned despite my past life. Of course, should you choose to decline, I suppose I can roam around looking for someone to patch my voice box and then get back to stumbling around making the world no better, or worse, for it."

Gevurah recognizes Vakko by his armor, weapons and ever-smug smile. She says nothing to him. No need to blow his cover. Having Vakko appear wherever she is no longer surprises her. The mercenary seems a bit obsessed, but that seems only natural given her greatness. As for Revan’s proposal, the High Priestess has long struggled to see the difference between apprentices and servants, but arguing semantics seems futile. “I could teach you to patch your own voice box in addition to His ways. I am curious as to why he chose you, and find this arrangement mutually beneficial. You will need to move to Trist’oth. Travel through the Underdark will give you ample opportunity to practice what you learned.” So he won’t be a prisoner, at least.

Vakko stopped in line with her own minion assassins, almost daring one of them to touch him, they would not be the first of the high priestesses guards to go missing for getting on the wrong side of the mercenary. He listened in silence as they spoke of the death God, the rhetoric slightly annoying to Vakko, who typically stayed away from matters of faith, though he greatly understood the works of the God of death. Under the shadow of his hood he would study the animated corpse known as Revan, the man he once knew was gone it would seem, he was a rather unorthodox one that got a little over his head and was executed. This one seems to be more cool headed and calculated, interesting on increasing his own power. The mercenary found all this very interesting

Revan is pleased with Gevurha's answer and provides a twisted smile as he stands erect while his body begins shifting once more until the mirrored form of Vakko stands before the priestess suggesting that clearly the mercenary needed a bath as the undead recognized his scent from a mile away even after all this time. He speaks now with Vakko's tongue, "It's settled then. I will relocate to the city of dark elves and we will begin what I'm sure will be a beautiful experience... for both parties." The man wearing Vakko's skin winks to the priestess before turning on his heel hesitating long enough to smirk in the mercenaries direction before pulling his hood over his head and preparing to make his retreat.

Gevurah‘s mercenaries have seen Vakko enough times in the company of Gevurah to stand down unless he arms himself. No one touches him without provocation. When Revan shifts his illusion to resemble Vakko, Gevurah grins with genuine delight. She watches the undead man go then turns to Vakko with a mocking smirk. “A friend of yours?” She’s whispering, as are the few other worshippers in the temple. “I want you to keep an eye on him. Report to me where he goes, what he does, who he meets with. I will pay you according to the quality of your information.”

Vakko could not help but laugh aloud when he sees the undead shift into a likeness of himself. Slowly separating himself form the rest of the guards he moved a few paces closer to the pair, slowly pulling back his hood he cast his two tone eyes upon Revan then he looks to Gevurah that smug smile widening in amusement. "If that is what you want. I always find it fun when I get to catch up with dead friends." Quite amused he looks back to the undead. "I remember when you smelled better, little less hint of rot."

Revan doesn't entertain Vakko's remark, not now. While he was pleased to see the drow alive and well it irked him that he had found him in his true form before he could pass judgement. He stood on a very short list of targets and now it would be harder than ever to execute his plan. So with that, Revan takes his leave.