RP: Ernestly Corrupt

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

In the Dilapidated Coral Castle

Coming in closer to this structure of substantial size, you observe that the stone of which it is made of is actually a form of coral matter, and would usually be found on the bottom of the oceans in lore, filled by colonies of mermaids and mermen wielding tridents. You're urged to nearly laugh at the thought of mermaids. There are multiple orifices throughout the structure vertically, like doorways designed as entry points. As you stand amongst the sand, you notice a trail coming from the base of this bastion of sea origin snaking along the ground; brilliant white and black sands inherently organized by natural forces. For something so simple really, looking like a giant multi-colored sand dollar, it's quite astonishingly beautiful.

Lanlan lay, for unmeasured time, alone in his bed, looking up. Above a vestigial chandelier, he could see through the darkness into the constellation map painted on the ceiling. As was becoming usual (though he gained no tolerance), he was born again prematurely into this realm of wakefulness, disturbed by the chaos his roommate and colleague was tenaciously trying to contain. They were still alive, so she was successful. But he seldom appreciated it. With a sigh he concedes to wakefulness. In seconds, his bedroom comes to life, and much more vibrantly than himself. Drawers, doors, and cabinets open. Sponges become drenched and bubbly. His body becomes cleaned and clothed. As he closes the door to his bedroom, everything is returned to a state of museum-like stillness. Only the down stuffed blanket remains disheveled and disorderly. Physically, he’s ready to receive the day. But not his responsibilities. A stocky lizard lumbers over to him, almost dragging its hook-clawed feet under himself. “I don’t have anything,” Lanlan says to him. “I don’t have -anything-! See Trish if you want something.” Lump haunts him still, flickering its tongue occasionally, to taste deception if there was any. There wasn’t. He makes his way to the study, where the first thing he does after laying down, is sit.

Ernest had to do a bit of editing to Odhranos's style in order to accomodate his tastes. Sure, the grey robe was... fine, he supposed, but it... lacked something. So he'd gone out and acquired a new hat, a nice wide-brimmed affair that the cowboy hat at least had the good sense to match colors with. As Lanlan took his seat, the man stirred next to him and lifted his head, tilting the brim up to reveal another thing that Ernest had done--while Odh was still wearing the blindfold around his eyes, Ernest was using a pair of Helpin' Hands with eyeballs embedded in them to wrap around the front of his head like a skeletal visor through which he could see. "Y'know," he drawled, blinking those eyes open by moving the fingers of the Hands in a way similar to eyelids, "it ain't jes' food that I fergot how ta enjoy. Y'ever -slept- before?" He grinned and raised the thumbs of those hands like eyebrows. "Th' things I used ta take fer granted! Sleep used ta annoy me, an' now I cain't get over how refreshin' it is. Like a cool drink o' water fer th' mind." He gestured around at the walls of the study. "I gotta say, I'd only ever seen this place from the outside before. Love what you've done with it."

Lanlan had been holding his hand out absently toward Ernest, waiting for the cup of tea that he’d come to expect when he found Odhranos sitting there. Of course, Odhranos wasn’t sitting there. Not really. But Lanlan didn’t know that, because he wasn’t awake. Not really. He would become so as Ernest spoke, and it jolted Lanlan’s senses such that his emotions came alive beyond his intent. And through the prism of his nature, or his blood, or whatever reason, his emotions became power. Six Crystalline limbs unfolded orthogonally out of his back, grating at their two elbows, and arched threateningly over the chair next to him. But then Lanlan was awake, and as his heart steadied and found rhythm again, Lanlan realized what must’ve occurred and began to settle. He examined Ernest with eyelids peeled back and invisible and nostrils flaring wide. “I said....Dinner!” The crystalline limbs disintegrated into glittering dust as Lanlan fiddled with a case of exactly one cigarette, that he puffed as it grew an ember. “When you didn’t reply, I expected you would decline or come in the evening,” Lanlan says, explaining why his near attempt on Ernest’s life was definitely only Ernest’s fault. “This unannounced acceptance of my invitation -must- defy some laws of...of...etiquette! At least.” Lanlan leaned back in his seat and prodded his temple with a few fingers. “At least you can see, god blind friends can be so tedious.” He took a deep breath and let it out slow. Abruptly, he removed his hand from his face and perks up. “But you’re here, now! So we can forget that other business with the...rarr...and discuss my proposition? Oh this is exciting. And yes sleeping, it’s one of the few human innovations that I appreciate. Of course, I’m -far- more adept at it than any one of them could ever hope to be. No offense! It’s just a specialty of mine.”

Ernest , when presented with six sudden new crystalline limbs and what might have been either a capture or a murder attempt, released a burst of shadowy energy from his sleeves which dropped a huge two-handed crossbow into his hands, already armed, and which he pointed directly towards his host. Once the arms had been dismissed, so too was the crossbow--Ernest did some kind of flick with his wrist and the entire thing mysteriously disappeared back into his sleeve. He had to take a moment to steady his own pulse--what a drug adrenaline was!--and crossed his legs amicably, remaining seated the whole time. "Cain't be a villain without breakin' some kinda law," he answered, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head. "I had breakfast foods fer dinner last night, so I reckoned dinner fer breakfast today sounded jes' fine. I'm always game fer propositions." Those thumbs lifted again, intrigued. "I'm assumin' this means y'ain't quite got a grasp on Odhranos's soul yet, though, since this don't seem ta be an official Guild proposition, judgin' from yer wordin'."

Lanlan eyed the crossbow warily, and anticipated a bolt internally, but outwardly pretended not to notice. Bluffs, as all illusionists know, can evolve into something more. Luckily this was one such time. “Aha! That is so! That is so,” said Lanlan indulging his co-conspirator. “Villains must not be held to equal standards as a plebian.” As things became more amicable, Lump became more comfortable, and wrongly recognizing his generous friend Odhranos, began to silently mooch. Lightly raking his warm scaly foot on Ernest’s boot. “Uh, he just wants food. Rare rocks and minerals are what he likes and...Odhranos would often be happy to oblige, as it was nothing for him to conjure. Um…” He lit up again with enthusiasm. “No...and no again, but maybe yes…?” He was nearly giddy, pressing into the arms of his chair to lift himself and reposition. “No clue about his soul, and no this is not officially sanctioned by the guild. But! You are the guild. For now. So what you decree could become official. Here’s what I propose.” Lanlan pressed his fingers together symmetrically, making a pyramid. “The guild obviously possesses extraordinary resources, and you have the authority to dispense it. Now obviously, you can’t exactly dispense it if you’re not there. And you can’t be there, not right now. So!” This was the very exciting part, and Lanlan’s exuberance shown in his smile. “You deputize me, your Sublime Master. Then I will have the ability to...acquire certain things normally unobtainable. In particular, that most especially well-guarded section of the library.” Lanlan didn’t explain much further, in part because...he couldn’t. The level of meta-cognition needed to grasp what could be in that library was well beyond his imagination. Which was a grand thing in fact! “The best part is, it would be so easy to do! And the rewards could be limitless. But, as you pointed out, the guild is actively working to shrink this opportunity, so we must. Act. Soon.”

Ernest listened to the proposal for doing business while searching through Odhranos's muscle memory for how to conjure a stone from basically nothing. It certainly seemed like an interesting idea--give someone on the inside access to the books that he couldn't access himself due to people at the guild currently hunting him. "I like it," he said, after a pause. "Long as, y'know, I get ta read 'em myself as well. Or get a cut of whatever it is yer tryin' ta scam outta th' guild." He clapped his hands together and unfolded them like a book, revealing, to his own surprise, a diamond. A fairly raw and uncut diamond, but... Odh had the power to just conjure gemstones like this? He'd never want for money again! (Not that he did, at the moment. The man's magical Terravision™ was great at detecting the designs of, oh, just for example, locks. Ernest had had a ball sneaking into places he shouldn't have been; he'd considered it a vacation.) Marveling at the lack of effort this took, he tossed the diamond to the salamander, eyethumbs currently high enough they were tilting the hat back, and asked, "So how's this work? I jes' write a note with his handwriting, an' you do yer best ta avoid anyone who was there when we stole th' moon, an' get back ta me with th' loot?"

Lanlan was too excited to remain seated, but he tried. He was almost as excited as Lump! Poor boy crushed the gem to bits between his ingot-esque teeth, casting shards about the carpet and rapidly sucking them up in his curly and retractable tongue. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward. “Essentially, yes. But with more ceremony and substance. More like a ritual, actually, declaring to the heavens that by your authority as Archmage under Xalious and by His will, I am named your Sublime Master. So it would take a small degree of preparation, standing under the incandescent foliage of the Xalious tree, basking in the glow of Arh’nuk, yadda yadda, all that stuff. But then...don’t be silly! Of course you would -read- them with me, that’s the point!” But maybe Ernest was after more corporeal treasures. “And then…! Oh what else? Oh! A xalious-wood staff of your very own. Of course, and one for me since mine is, well where is mine? I don’t know. I imagine there must be a host of artifacts and trophies, relics of discovery and accomplishment accumulated over generations. Familiars spirits of a rarer species. The magical armaments that must’ve been commandeered from reckless pupils, I’ve seen a few of those. Uh...whaddya say?” Before a breath can be taken, Lanlan restarts. “Oh and I must say,” he says gesturing at Ernests entire concept of Odhranos. “Big improvement. Modesty is -so- overrated. And that hat! Its vintage, no?”

Ernest pondered that. It'd mean going into Xalious, which was a risky proposition at the moment, but he'd already figured out how to leave a place lickety-split and if it was under the tree, there'd be earth under his feet he could escape with. A way out discerned, he allowed himself to bask for a moment in the possible treasures and knowledge they could acquire with this scheme. It all sounded delightful! Imagine the havoc wreaked in the Guild just from having so many treasures snatched from under their noses. And then Lanlan went and spoke his mind on the hat. It hadn't been vintage; Ernest preferred his custom-made, but it definitely had the look of it. But something in his words sparked a little touch of healthy suspicion. "I jes' got one question," he drawled, after a moment. "All this sounds like a perfect opportunity. Frankly, I ain't seein' any downsides ta this whatsoever, fer either of us. But as I recall, back up there on th' tower you were one of th' folks pretty stridently against my keepin' Odhranos warm while his soul is tracked down. Now yer gettin' buddy-buddy with me. So," he leaned forward, thumbs hooking in a way that made his grin seem dangerous, "what changed yer mind?"

Lanlan was reigned in by the sudden realistic and presentness. “Um…” He leaned back in the chair and took a drag of his cigarette, which magnificently didn’t seem to disperse ash or even shrink, despite the fact that he’d been ignoring it. Having bought a second or two, he rejoins. “I haven’t changed my mind. I said what I meant, and none of those fools listened to me. Typical, really. Of course, I can see now that you’re here, uhhh, that no harm is falling to my friend!” He bounces his leg a little, anxiously or eagerly. “And we both know that this...arrangement can’t last forever, soon everyone will be in their own bodies, safe and sound. Wouldn’t the real harm be in allowing this opportunity to pass us by? And...and! How much better is it that I remain in close proximity to you, that I may be sure that my friend is safe?” From another room down the hall, there was a sudden explosion, a cacaphony of sound and light, followed by some squeaks and pitter patter across the floor. A fuzzy flash across the doorway, followed by smoke. Lanlan maintains a flaccid smile. “Ignore that. Just my...just my blacksmith trying something...new, I guess. Do we have...an agreement? I’ll set everything up quick, if so.”

Ernest kept his grin dangerous. He felt that it helped to have an unpredictable facial expression, sometimes. "You'll have ta introduce me," he said of the blacksmith, then returned to the matter at hand. "I wouldn't want it ta last ferever even if it could," he said, leaning back again and relaxing. "Th' man ain't got a decent moustache, an' as much fun as it is ta run around wearin' somebody else, it ain't good fer anyone's business fer me ta be someone I ain't fer too long. But since he agreed ta fund my research, it ain't in my best interests ta let 'im jes' sit an' rot while his soul's on holiday either. Look at it like this." He held out his hands, palms up, and elevated one above the other. "Either I keep him active, breathing, and well-fed," then he switched hands, lifting the other hand instead, "or th' Necromancer's Guild holds onto 'im. An' d'you -really- think Quintessa or Joan or whoever would really refrain from some kinda..." he wiggled his fingers mysteriously, "wacky reanimation experiments? Honestly, I think yer gettin' a good deal, havin' ta put up with jes' me." Having given as much of what could almost be considered an apology as he felt like giving, he leaned forward and extended a hand to shake. "Far as I'm concerned, this scheme of yers is good enough ta sign on for. Count me in."

Lanlan convulsed violently, jubilantly, as the tension exploded out of him. “Yes!” He said with a clap and a raining of foot taps on the floor. “No, you’re right, those weirdos would turn him inside out in the name of science. Much better this way.” The blacksmith came running back the way she came with a massive, massive hammer. Not the kind for smithing, the kind for vengeance, it seemed to Lanlan. “There she goes again. And I will introduce you, when she’s less uhhh occupied.” He rises to his feet and puts his hands on his hips. “I feel good about this, feels like some kind of victory was attained, doesn’t it? After all we defeated an enemy here today, the two of us.” He slides open a drawer, pulls out a box, and reveals a harmonica. Upon playing a single note, he summons a wooden construct. A diligent humanoid butler with ancient symbols carved meticulously all over its body. “Let’s do a chagaccino for each of us,” says Lanlan to the wooden man, “Carnaroli risotto enhanced by a perigord truffle, and a smoked ricotta gnudi. Right?” The block-head scurries off with heavy steps, delivering the order to the chef in the kitchen. “Alright, dinner for breakfast you said didn’t you? It’ll get here soon enough. After that? Feel free to linger, explore, stay, go...and I’ll nail down the exact method of making me your deputy. And in a few days we should be able to get this thing done! Well! How’s that sound?”

Ernest wasn't certain quite what enemy was defeated, but chalked the remark up to being metaphorical. "Easy there, friend. We ain't outta the woods yet. This all sounds grand, but we ain't achieved anythin' -yet-. Part of bein' successful is knowin' when ta gloat, an' we ain't quite there." That being said, a dinner in support of a new alliance and celebration of the opportunity was by no means lost on him and hearing all the foods described made him struggle to keep from visibly salivating at all of it. "But I certainly did say dinner fer breakfast, an' ta -that- I say it sounds like exactly what th' doctor ordered."