RP:Veil of Illusionary Penetration

Original Meeting between Tiphareth and Sanlig (Oog)

Sanlig appears to be standing in the corner. The illusionist has taken every precaution; the spells that cloak his true appearance are set strongly on his garments, kept solidified by steady willpower. The image he presents to Tiphareth is that of a gnome with swarthy skin, wrapped in dark red robes and clutching what appears to be a gnarled root. Beady eyes watch the Drow, glittering in the faint light.

Tiphareth turns his attention toward the figure within the corner, cautious as ever due to his upbringing among the Drow. The surprise in his eyes upon seeing the gnome lasts only a moment, he should have known this "illusionist" would be of the Shadow gnome persuasion, they were of course well known for such arts. "Greetings Illusionist... I am Eldermage Tiphareth D'Artes what shall I call you?"

Sanlig steps a pace forward, eyeing the drow up and down with equal caution. "Oog's my name," he says in a seemingly squeaky voice. "What is it that you need done?" The root, although still held tightly, is lowered, to show that the figure means no threat.

Tiphareth leans against the wall, supporting his venerable frame against the sturdy oak walls. "Oog, I have contacted you for the sole purpose of commissioning a specific enchantment that I desire. You see, I am quite a skilled mage in my own right, perhaps something you already know. However, though I am as multifaceted as any you're likely to encounter, such multidisciplinary endeavors have led to a glaring weakness within a few select schools of arcane art. One of these such schools being that of illusion... now I am far to old and far too busy to embark on mastery of such an art at this juncture in my life... Which brings me to you. I have an item, a veil of fine spider's silk that I desire to be enchanted, I wish this veil to reveal things as they "are" and not as they "appear". My questions to you are this; Do you understand what I ask, are you capable of such a feat, and are you willing?"

Sanlig stares at Tiphareth for a moment or two, silent. When he speaks again, the irritating voice has a wary edge to it. "I have heard of you, and your abilities." He sounds neither impressed, nor dismissive. "As for your veil...I am more than capable and I understand perfectly. But am I willing...that is the true question. You see, such a veil nullifies my craft entirely. That tool in the hands of an enemy could be my own undoing. I could do it, perhaps, if I am paid well and if I have your word, on your honor, on your life, on your craft, and on the life of everyone you have ever loved, that this veil will not be used against me and that if, through this veil, any work of mine should be seen for what it truly is, that knowledge would be kept silent, not told to anyone, ever. If these terms are met, I will craft your artifact."

Tiphareth nods throughout the words of his magical accomplice, finally reaching into his satchel to remove the aforementioned veil. The clingy spider silk material clinging close to the skin of its bearer. "Indeed I shall give my word that such an implement will not be used against your person, and that should I witness your acts of subterfuge upon others, even those with which I hold solemn alliance, these acts will remain undisclosed. To wit, even the fact that you ever enchanted the item at all would be knowledge that I take to the grave. What price do you require for such an endeavor, and how much time will you require?"

Sanlig reaches out for the veil, human hands disguised as wrinkled little sausages grasping at the cloth. "Then may whatever gods or goddesses you call on damn you forever if you break your word. I will require five thousand gold coins, to be paid upon completion, and admittance to the Mages Guild for one person of my choosing. In three days time, you will have your tool."

Tiphareth grins slightly at the shadow gnomes words, handing over the the veil to the illusionist. For a moment the Drow cants his head to the side, this gnomes aroma very different from typical denizens of the Underdark, then quickly disregarding the revelation and assuming he must be among the vast number who seem to be moving above ground these days. "This person you wish admitted to the Guild... I trust on your word that they are significantly skilled in the arcane, for if not, the damage done to my reputation would be far more valuable than any single magical item."

Sanlig stashes the cloth away in his robes, and nods his head. "You have my word on it...this one is as skilled at his job as I am at mine. We will meet again soon, D'Artes." With that, the little form starts toward the door - and seems to disappear with a 'pop' into the shadows of the night.

Sanlig Creates the Veil

Sanlig settles down in the long-since-abandoned laboratory, setting the veil on the table in front of him. For once, the human is free of illusions - the doors are locked and barred, and illusions are set all around, shielding the interior from prying eyes. Sanlig stretches out his hand to the cloth, pausing a moment to stare at the withered appendage, marking how the use of magic has shriveled it. Shrugging, suddenly uncomfortable, Sanlig creates a few illusions, familiar faces to him, to keep himself company. Nodding in satisfaction, he turns back to the task at hand. "I don't know how to to do this," he says to his imaginary friends. "Maybe I could trick him...change the illusion as he looks through the veil, and then back when he takes it off. He'll pay me, and that'll be that...Oog will disappear forever, and he'll be none the wiser." Oog himself interjects from the small crowd of illusions, "Maybe I don't want to disappear -"

He is cut off by Tovenaar, who towers over the gnome. "It won't work, Sanlig. If he finds out, my position in the guild will be in danger. It has to be the real thing." The rest of the figures speak up as well, most voicing agreement. Sanlig sighs, and turns back to the table. "I still don't know how to do it..." Groot steps forward, his gruff voice seeming overly loud. "Make backward. Cast spell inside out, make backward." The human at the table looks up with a start, turning to Tovenaar with a raised eyebrow. The vampire nods slowly. "The simpleton makes sense. Try it." Sanlig nods and focuses in, his fingers moving in complicated patterns. To his eyes, the cords of magic are very visible, glowing as they spin and weave. With a swift gesture, he inverts the weave, turning it inside-out. This done, he begins to add to it vision illusions - nothing in particular, just the raw energy of the spell. Inverted, they begin to filter into the very fabric of the veil. Sanlig continues this until he feels the exhaustion of his craft creeping up on him. He stops and turns away, his crowd of illusions following him out.

The next day, Sanlig again enters the laboratory, and resumes casting. Now familiar with the process, he is able to converse freely with his 'friends' as he works, keeping up a running chatter. Occasionally, the figures flicker and vanish as the enchanting takes more of Sanlig's attention, but he talks on, barely noticing. All day he works, and all day the following day, layering the veil with as much might as he can possibly muster. Finally, it is done, saturated through and through with the illusionist's craft. Sanlig picks it up between thumb and forefinger, quickly swathing it in a black cloth. "There," he says to Tovenaar. "I hope you're happy." Tovenaar smiles grimly, and nods. "Trust me, this will be worth it."

The second meeting between Tiphareth and Sanlig (Oog)

Tiphareth enters the agreed to meeting place, expecting to see the same little shadow gnome, and hopefully his intended relic.

Sanlig appears as his shadow gnome illusion, clutching his staff in one hand, and the veil in another. It is wrapped in black cloth, concealing it from view - as well as hiding the hand underneath it.

Tiphareth approaches the midway point between the shadow gnome and himself, stopping as he looks intently upon the shrouded contents of the shadow gnome's grip. "I imply that is target of this arrangement?"

Sanlig nods, a crooked smile appearing on the swarthy features of the gnome. "It is. Did you bring the gold?" He shuffles forward, hopping from foot to foot in anticipation.

You reaches into the satchel at his side, retrieving a large leather pouch bulging with the valuable contents. Tiphareth holds the bag suspended from his grip before him, "Indeed, the implement performs as we agreed, total illusionary penetration?"

Sanlig grimaces slightly, and nods again. "It does. I will create something for you to see through, in order to test it." A flick of his staff, and suddenly a large creature appears in the corner of the room, all teeth and claws and rancid breath. Leaving it there, Oog offers the wrapped package to Tiphareth.

Tiphareth applies the black veil to his face, the sheer black fabric clinging like a half mask over the drow's ebon features

Sanlig scuttles behind some shelves the moment the drow has the veil, the very real object blocking both illusion and real mage from view. Where the creature had stood now appears as before to Tiphareth; an empty, dark corner. "You see?" Oog asks. "But you must take it of before I come back out."

Tiphareth looks about the vicinity through his new found implement, pulling it back and forth in and out of his view as he watches the illusionary beast instantly change from a fully realistic visage to a mere shimmer in the air that is obviously an incorporeal creation of illusionary force. "Amazing..." the Drow speak to himself, "After the brief demonstration, Tiphareth removes the cloth from about his face. "Ok.. it has been removed, you may come claim your payment."

Sanlig peeks around the shelf, and then steps out again, walking over to the other mage. "I trust you will remember your oath, as well...that you will never use it on me, against me, or for anything having to do with me." His squeaky voice sounds quite serious, which might be rather comical.

Tiphareth nods "Indeed, we are in agreement...

Sanlig takes the gold and tucks it away. "

Tiphareth turns to the north, his newly acquired artifact in tow, "Fare thee well Oog"