The Invitation

[Taelian Edevane]

Night of Glade 12, Year 4622

Unlike many of the other bread crumbs Taelian left, offered to the older Sil'Norai without any real intent to deliver, this one he had fulfilled. He grinned and stood, bowing towards the Veir as he accepted his proposal. "I would like you to myself, indeed," the Lord merely replied. Once he indulged, leaving Ardenserat had been far easier than entering, the queue far thinner, with a special avenue being provided to those who wished to leave.

There was a great deal Degare surely wanted to know, but throughout their journey to Taelian's humble, 'rented' estate, the taller man remained nearly entirely quiet. He was... lost in thought, it appeared, or perhaps he kept an intentional distance so as to not divulge anything unnecessary in public. A part of him was wondering of the benefits and cons of sharing his information. Based on Degare's appearance, he presumed he was a more veteran Sil'Norai, though he couldn't be entirely positive of that. If so, though, that meant that he was likely at least a decent mage, and that he carried some degree of worldly knowledge or connections.

Would he be useful for the campaign in Lorien? In truth, he doubted it, but that did not mean that they had nothing they could give one another. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Finally, as they roamed through the streets, the arrived at the man's lodging in Amoren. A pleasant, white-bricked town home with yellow leaves draping from the windows and a maroon brown roof, it was as typical as any home in the west of Couronne.

"Here we are," he muttered, approaching the door before reaching into his pocket to acquire the key for it. Twisting the lock, the man turned the knob to open the door, yielding them entry to a regal-looking foyer, of pleasant, dark hues and with ornate furniture surrounding the entryway. This was Eloise's old home in Amoren, the woman lending it to him every time he came to fulfill the Covenants's imperatives in the city.

Turning to face the other, the man waited for him to step inside before closing and locking the door behind him, letting out a short breath once he did.

"Alright -- no more bread crumbs. You asked me, earlier, what might be potentially as useful as Lady Ash herself, yes? The answer, Degare, is that it is something that relies on no others; that escapes the necessity of pacts, deals, and feeble trust. When I died in Tyrclaid, I learned that I had a... power, deep within me, passed down by heritage. I allowed other mages to barricade the influence of that power over me, sequestering it from the shell of my soul. I was... a fool, but," he paused, breathing out.

"I fixed it," said Taelian. "So let me be clear -- I have much that I can offer. What I want, however, and why I keep coming to this place... is support in my endeavor to become Kaiser of Lorien. First, though, this war of ours must end."

[Degare]

TIMESTAMP: Night of Glade 12, Year 4622
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The soft smile on Degare’s face remained when the other responded; it only really faded as the two began to make their leave. Not for any particular reason, really, but his resting facial expression could be described as fairly sleepy looking. The pair walked in silence; he did not necessarily mind this, as it did serve to let him at least gather his thoughts.

While they walked, he realized he hadn’t really thought much about how old the other man was. Given the nature of how slowly Sil’Norai age, it was really rather difficult to guess somebody’s specific number unless they chose to give it. The only thing of note was that he looked young– but this was ultimately a meaningless observation given the wide variance of possibilities for ‘young’ looking Sil’Norai. Given the circumstances, he could probably ask this at some point, provided he remembers.

There were, of course, myriad other queries. His direct connection to Brilan Ald, the Sigilic Pyromancy mutations, whatever the hell he meant by ‘...more Sil’Norai than you,’ the circumstances of his supposed death, more about the Covenant, what marks he still did possess, etc…etc…there was a lot. Would it be too much to seek so many answers in one fell swoop? Perhaps, but he supposes he’ll just settle, for now, with whatever the other does decide to reveal. After all, it’s not as if there’s any implication this will be the only time the two meet.

The golden streets of Amoren floated by as the two walked, Degare lazily eyed the scenery as he passed it. Much as he loved Boghadar, Amoren was especially grand in its appearance. He knew not where they were going, but he figured Taelian wouldn’t be the type to drag him off to some dark alley somewhere. This assumption ended up being correct as the two turned towards the path leading up to a lovely white-bricked townhome. With a few swift movements, his companion unlocked the home and then relocked it once the two had made it inside. Familiar with the need for locks, he paid this little mind.

The inside of the home was about as regal as one would expect. The furniture was ornate, masterfully crafted and laid out well. The colors were subtle and dark, giving an overall expensive but muted aesthetic. It lacked the bright shocks of color of Degare’s own manor, but it wasn’t as if he was unable to appreciate other, more subtle styles. The dark wood and golds were rather gorgeous, actually.

The Ferrier’s ears perked at the other’s words, them barely having made it into the foyer when he had begun to speak. Peeling his eyes from the decor and returning his gaze to Taelian, he waited until he was entirely finished speaking before he responded at all. He blinked, brows furrowed and his head tilted slightly back in surprise at what the other had said. It took him a few moments to properly gather his thoughts. “I…ah…hm, where to start?” He’d started speaking and it was as if the words suddenly vanished from his mind. After a few moments, “What is this ‘power’ of yours, first of all? Why did you bind it?” Given much of what he said hinges on whatever this gift of his was, he supposed it was best to start here.

“I’ve certainly gathered that you have a lot to offer, Taelian. The point at which you’ve lost me is where exactly I’d fit in. From how it sounds you’re…” He pauses, as if deciding on the right word. “...rather self-sufficient on your own, no? It’s not as if I think I’ve nothing, just that…I’ve not the power to end any wars, at least, not that I’m at all aware of,” he chuckles a bit. “Of course, you on your own intrigue me greatly and I’d jump at the opportunity to aid you in this endeavor, but…what exactly would help you?” A rather open ended question, but if Taelian had ‘power’ of some sort that somehow rivaled that of Lady Ash, the Ferrier was a bit blind as to what he had that the other would even want.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"

[Taelian Edevane]

As Degare asked his question, he was reminded of Eloise's words, her warning: You must tell no one, she whispered. Not even your fellow Thespians. Especially not them. You are aware that Divine Sparks can be stolen, yes?

The warning continued, becoming longer and graver, too much to remember in its exact, though it was something he kept with him all this time. Almost two years, now.

And yet, still, he had invited Degare to know: he had kept him at the very end of a long stick, prodding him with what would appear to be intriguing knowledge, yet not indulging. He wanted to pretend that he was testing Degare's character, but in truth, he was testing his own limits. It made him feel weary and even ill, the thought of informing another of what he was, but he wanted to do it. He did not want it to remain so... obfuscated. If a predator wished to steal his Divine Spark, they could damn well try.

"This power of mine, is... it is the power of a Draedan," he said. "The heritage of the Living Gods. My father is Venadak, forger of this plane. I sealed my connection to him, because -- I believe I was deceived, into thinking that it was ruining me; that it was corroding my body and mind. My mentor within the Covenant was threatened by my divinity, so she had me try to remove it. Recently, though, I submerged myself through Bel... I presented myself before the Mantle of Adena, and wordlessly, my father surged his power through me again."

It was something that pained him -- the fact that Venadak wouldn't dare speak to or even invite his own son inside. The legends of the Adac were true; they really were gone, in all but this... strange, decaying presence. They were distant, perhaps uncaring. They had abandoned their world.

"I am not that strong, yet," he said. "I'm only beginning to explore my powers as a Draedan. In truth, what I want from you -- what you might perhaps offer me -- is knowledge. Lorien is so disconnected from the divine, but Daravin... it is rich in its history. I feel as if, somewhere in this wretched land, I might be able to acquire knowledge on the Draedan, or even perhaps find a lead to meet another. I have so many queries that cannot be answered in the Northern Realms," he lamented.

"You... strike me as someone well-learned," said the Elf. "And you are a Sil'Norai. My intention with this power, ultimately, is to use it to help restore our prominence over this world. If you would consider yourself an ally in this cause, then help me. I have -- so much I know that I can give."

[Degare]

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Degare waited for Taelian to respond with an intrigued look on his face, lips lightly parted as if holding back endless words he wanted to speak, though for the moment, silent he remains. He looked almost hesitant to share, and honestly, the Ferrier would understand if he back stepped now, realizing that whatever secrets he held were too private or too esoteric to mention to a near stranger, much as that would greatly disappoint him.

Almost to his surprise, when the other did finally speak, what he said wasn’t what he was expecting at all. He’d only heard of Draedan in myths and legend, barely even regarded to be more than fair tales. To meet one was…well, a little novel, to say the least…and of Venadak? Ever the more intriguing. The Ferrier laughs at this revelation, an expression of enthusiasm mixed with fascination on his features, “Really? I understand why you were so hesitant to share at all, now. I’m honored, in a way, that you’ve chosen to tell me so soon after meeting, too. Especially given such a thing can be plucked from you…though I wouldn’t dare. Too much of a risk for me to take, frankly. I like living,” he says with an oddly bright laugh. At this point, he’s making little attempt to downplay or twist the blatant interest in his voice.

Truth be told, Degare hadn’t really concerned himself with much thought cast towards the gods. He thought the Omen was nonsense and that the living gods had lost interest in their world. How true these assumptions were, in reality, was debatable, but he nonetheless largely chose to forsake worship of any. That is, save for one…though a second has recently caught his attention as well. He’d always held some admiration for Malek, and with him being pulled into being a Corvo, Brazim had recently managed to capture more of his interest.

As Taelian continued to speak, it honestly sounded like he was asking him for help…which, to Degare, was absurd. The Ferrier thought that he was obviously in the position of inferiority here, though if the other did not regard him this way, he would dare not admit this. “Mmm…If nothing else, living for a while has allowed me to pick up at least some useful things, I’m sure,” he muses. “I’ll be glad to help you in any way that I can…and since you’ve been so honest, I’ll answer any question you have for me as well, regardless of whatever potential risks there are.” His voice was smooth and lacking his usual theatrics, as if to enforce the fact that he was being genuine. "Plus...seeing the Sil'Norai restored to some semblance of power would be nice," he does admit.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"

[Taelian Edevane]

And there it was. Degare's mention of 'plucking' the Divine Spark from his chest was... disconcerting, even if it wasn't meant to be. The mere mention of the possibility was... dire and threatening, and he hadn't fully shaken his paranoia on the matter. He'd grown a lot stronger since it was first awoken, but he was still feeble in comparison to his full potential. He knew how to utilize his second 'set' of abilities, now, but only vaguely, and there was still so much more that needed to be learned. He was no Aldrin, nor Lyria, for that matter. They both far exceeded him.

"It seems there are virtually none who know how to do it, anyway," he said, assuring himself. "Take the Spark, I mean. It is... a process that has been lost to time. I hope it remains that way."

It was a tragedy, really; the Gods were gone from their world, and rather than stepping in to help secure any semblance of order, their Draedan disappeared from society, too afraid to present themselves to others without the protection of their parents behind them. The Divine Abolition had done well to make any remnants of those old legacies terrified, and vacant, and that was not a good outcome for their Atharen, vulnerable as it was. People like him needed to present themselves again; people like Aldrin, too.

"I'm not sure what questions I might have," he said. "There's something not entirely normal about you, though. Your... fragrance, perhaps? It is quite striking. There's -- sort of this air of... ah, distinction, there, but not intentionally so. I can't place my finger upon it."

Feeling as if he sounded rather strange, the man breathed out, slowly. "Aside from that... are you faithful to the Omen of Daravin?" he asked, directly. "Anything we learn must be away from their prying eyes, and honed ears. I cannot allow them to learn that I am a Draedan, or I will not be welcome back here. They are vicious to those who defy their dogma," he said, shaking his head.

[Degare]

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Much as he could tell that it made the other uncomfortable to know that he was aware his spark could be stolen, Degare thought that it was only fair to be open about what he knew. “Correct. I’ve no idea where to even start with that process, even if I had any desire to do so…and as I said, I don’t.” He laughs a bit, as if thinking of something, “Plus, as silly as this sounds, the Spark is meant to be a gift. If I’ve not earned one, I have no place possessing one.” Selfish as he was, he did have some strange lingering beliefs of this nature. His words were genuine and meant to be reassuring, but he wouldn’t blame Taelian should he still not be willing to trust him entirely.

Honestly, just being friendly with a Draedan was fascinating enough. He could learn and observe just as well by experiencing divinity in that of another. Degare had never been one to want to hoard the spotlight for himself, so to speak.

Before he could ask another question, his companion spoke once more, this time with his own. His observation made the Ferrier laugh rather loudly. He’d completely forgotten about that part of him. “Oh, that? I have no control over that, actually, so you’re right about the lack of intention,” he stops, as if to let curiosity build for a mere moment. “Much as I’ve been told I’m supposed to hide that part of me as well, I did say I’d answer your questions. It’s a little boon granted to me by Brazim– I’m a Corvo. I’m sure you’ve at least heard the stories? If your knowledge on the subject is thin…I’d be happy to answer questions in that regard, as well. Never talked about it to anyone aside from others of my ilk.” As if for emphasis, he bites his lower lip, making it bleed and intensifying the waning effect of his shroud. “For example, the pretty little shadow effect on my person? That’s a Corvo skill, too,” he laughs, almost as if he’s excited to share.

To answer the other question, “If my favor with Brazim wasn’t an answer to that question on its own, no, I do not follow the Omen. Prior to being plucked from my bed in the night by the god of ambition, the only other god I looked towards with any reverence was Malek, actually. I keep this fact well hidden, for if I didn’t…I’d be hunted. But I am a blasphemer, yes. It’s not the only reason for which I could be hunted, though, so what difference does it truly make?” The last part was a joke, though Taelian would lack proper context.

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'Thoughts'
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"Raillen Tongue/Speech"

[Taelian Edevane]

Taelian nodded at Degare's suggestion that the Spark was meant to be a gift, not something that should be taken and distributed for power. "Exactly," he said. "What is the point of stealing another person's purpose? The God that gave it to them will only spite and loathe you; you will live forever in their shadow, fearing being smitten from beyond Bel or Muid, and likely you won't even be able to reach your full potential. It is meaningless vanity. Then again -- meaningless vanity is the name of the game, in this accursed 'Empire of Rust'," he groaned. Taelian resented himself for not drinking more Etherwine while he was there; a part of him wished he was more knackered for the conversation at hand, even if it was meant to be intimate and meaningful. It was just -- this was a strange night, and a strange experience.

Learning that Degare was a Corvo seemed to mean nothing to him, as it appeared he did not know what that was. Instead of replying with anything more than a puzzled look, the man gestured that he follow him to the common area, where a fireplace was actively lit. Taelian gestured him to one end of the sofa, before sitting not far from him, taking off the brass-colored lid of a pot of candies and drawing one to his lips, offering an identical treat to his new 'friend'.

The Corvo were somehow related to Brazim, it appeared. Was he a priest, of some kind? Or . . .

"Is it a Blight?" he asked. He only knew of two of them: Dranoch and Wohlricht, but all of them were somehow related to Adac power. There was also, if he recalled, some anomalous creature across the Courlan Sea known as the 'Blacksworn', Y'shendra's sworn Knights. He had never heard of a Corvo, though, and if he had, he hadn't heard enough for it to stick.

It was the source of his smoky black trail, though, which did sound like something that would accompany a Blight. Whatever the case, he banished the thought until the other explained his little affiliation a bit better, considering he would merely be speculating or speaking out of his ass, otherwise.

"Malek," he whispered. "That was my patron deity, growing up, too. He's the patron of the Black Remedy, the organization that raised me. He was actually the only God I knew of, for a long time -- Sil-Elaine banned the worship of any deities, even the Elven Gods," said Taelian. Nothing about them could even be distributed: that place was a zone where information and truth went to die, a place of sheer, deep control.

"The religion of this land is a poison," he muttered. "They invent a false deity in their waged war against the truth, all to give legitimacy to their own need for domination and control. They spit on the reputation of mages, who -- throughout history -- performed so many great feats, and furthered mortal advancement so much. Daravin is a blight on this world," Taelian concluded, knowing that his words would likely be controversial. At this point, though, he had enough dirt on Degare to have him stoned. They had already fallen into the depths of blasphemy and treason together, and so there was no need to temper his words.

"It must fall. I am hoping, when I become King of Lorien, that I will be able to see to that once I unite the Northern Realms. That is another reason why I seek allies here -- when Daravin collapses, there must be a number of people with roots here who will help see a new regime rise, and remain stable. Brilan Ald would be a brilliant ally in this regard, and perhaps, so too would you."

[Degare]

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Taelian’s words rang true. “That’s precisely how I feel. Not only do I have no idea where I’d even start in regards to taking your spark, I’d risk my own death in doing so and then earn myself the ire of Venadak. Such a fate sounds terrible, really, and I’d be a fool to even consider it.” He giggles a bit at the mention of pointless vanity. “You are right– there is quite a bit of vanity here. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t indulge in it, though. My family is a house of artists, after all, and I do have a love for pointless aesthetics…” he trails off, but then adds, “...I just wouldn’t make a decision so stupid for the sake of it, that is.”

Seeing his companion look confused at the mention of Corvae was actually somewhat of a surprise given the man’s apparently vast pool of knowledge. Although…he did come to Degare seeking yet more, so there were, evidently, gaps. The Ferrier follows Taelian over to the sofa in front of the fire, eyeing the little candy he offered with intrigue and suspicion. Wordlessly, he makes his decision and takes it. After all…if the Draedan truly wished him harm, he’d likely have struck him down by now. He doesn’t even bother to ask what it is, instead choosing to just figure it out himself. Could just be a nice treat, could be poison, whatever. Worst case, he could pallor himself to slow its effects.

Pushing the candy around in his mouth with his tongue, he considered where he wanted to start with his explanation. “A blight, yes. We’re…eyes and ears, we’re spies, we’re informants, manipulators, seducers– sometimes we’re called Nightcrawlers. As to why we exist? Only Brazim knows,” he laughs. “He does let us wander and do as we please, for the most part. The blight comes with some fun tricks, too. The scent you noticed, almost otherworldly beauty, the shroud and so forth. There’s a few others as well…” he trails off, bringing his dominant arm, his right, in front of him and pulling off his glove. It begins to shift darker than the shadows that already adorn him, runes glowing on his skin as he pulls up his sleeve. It shifts further and starts to take shape, dark armor running up his arm and shoulder and bladed claws extending out of his fingertips. “I’ve also this– a weapon of sorts. I think it’s neat. Quite dull compared to my more veteran brethren, though,” words spoken in a fairly disappointed tone. As quickly as it appeared, he shifts the weapon away and returns his sleeve down his arm and his glove to his hand. “The other two abilities we Corvo have are not quite as tangible. One is essence thievery– I’m not very accustomed to…doing that, as of yet, so rest assured, I could barely affect you even if I wanted to. The last is, ah…just be wary of looking me in the eyes,” he says, floating his gaze up to his companion’s in jest, giving him an impish wink.

A pleased expression spreads across the Ferrier’s features when the other elf mentions his favor for Malek. “Ah, I knew you were a man of good taste,” he jokes. Taelian does continue, though, voicing his disdain for the way Daravin is run. Much as Degare loved some aspects of Daravin, he would be a liar if he tried to defend it against the criticisms of which his companion spoke.

He arched a brow in further surprise when the man mentioned the fall of the empire. “Oh? Oh my…How very ambitious of you,” he laughs, excitement in his eyes. “I’ve no…formal attachments to Daravin. Would be a little sad to see my house burn, most of them are…likable enough people, but as for the rest…?” He shrugs as he asks this question, as if to imply he doesn’t care. “You have me at your disposal, should you wish, then, Lord von Klade.” He spoke playfully, but with a demure expression.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"

[Taelian Edevane]

Degare's explanation was the first he'd heard of the Corvae, though with them he'd become curious. Given what they were given by Brazim, he wondered if some of his own allies within the Covenant, perhaps, were Corvo. Miranda, Naimre... both of them ridiculously attractive, carrying an air of charm. They smelled pleasant, felt approachable; there was just something about them that struck whoever they met, forcing them to feel utterly enamored and engaged. If that was what it was, then that information was useful. He would file it away somewhere in his mind, to be looked into when he had the resources available to do so.

He didn't really understand Degare's explanation of their abilities, though he didn't really feel the need to press, either. If they did become allies, they would have enough time to learn of one another's particular skillsets, whether that be the basic fundamentals of their magic, or more uncanny aspects of them, derived from Divinity.

Eyeing the man's claws, he pondered for a while, before tilting his head somewhat to the side, his features lightly expressive, brows lifted. "That easy, hm?" he inquired, as if digging for more. "There's no... catch? Are you so eager to see your home awash with violence -- with decimation? Daravin is a land on a precipice, with a weak, non-centralized government. Anything of the order of magnitude I am speaking of will lead to the death of millions."

It was clear that he was quite realistic, grounded within his ideology. He did not have any grand notions of diminished suffering, or that people might appreciate Brilan's worldview coming to fruition. It would be a hard, brutal road, with hundreds of thousands of people taking the mantle to fight against the 'new order', tooth and claw, like dying, desperate animals.

Taelian just didn't care that much. Pragmatically, generations of Daravain people would lead better lives if their government was ripped from the talons of the Omen. He was uncertain of what might be done with their system of magocracy, but it was likely better torn down. Within those two umbrellas, hundreds of individual systems and structures would need to be reformed, and it would take a generation to invoke that change. He, of course, would merely be a sympathetic onlooker, but this was something he felt strongly about. Taelian's instinct towards Mornoth as a whole was... strongly paternalistic. All of it, he believed, should communicate as the nations of Calanon did -- through trade and commerce, scholars convening across borders. Mornoth was insular and cold, each nation believing their own way to be the most supreme.

He breathed out, looking Degare in the eyes.

"Either way... I am honored," he said. "I suppose these are far-off dreams of mine, but it is my will to see them through, and I am glad to have an ally in this land." Nodding, he brought his hands together, folding them horizontally as he threaded his fingers, settling the side of his hands onto his lap.

"Now -- tell me. What are your own goals in Daravin? What is it that you want for yourself; your station, your House?"

[Degare]

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Though he’d mentioned it in his explanation, he’s being fairly careless about eye contact. He’s a relatively new Corvo, after all. Degare is fairly convinced it won’t do anything, but ultimately, he can’t tell and is fine with that variable being unknown.

Reddened amber eyes flit over the other elf’s features when the Ferrier finished speaking as if he were searching for something. Canting his head to the side, eyes narrow and he appears to be looking past Taelian’s face now rather than directly at him. He seems to be thinking about something, and his expression is almost akin to disappointment, though it might be hard to see given the coverage of the mask he still wore.

When his companion again speaks, Degare tilts his head back towards the other, eyes flitting back to meet with his own. “Mmm…a catch?” A soft smile spreads over his lips, a bit mischievous in nature. “No…you’ve said it yourself. Daravin has always stood on the precipice of turmoil. It’s something of an inevitability, at least, to me, that it will fall off. If you’ve…actual, actionable plans when that time comes, why not throw my lot in with yours?” He speaks slowly, thoughtfully. The Veir held the other’s gaze the entire time he spoke, closing his eyes and sighing at the end of his last sentence. Lids drifting open only halfway, looking once again past the Draedan, “The death of millions is not my responsibility.” These words are stated matter-of-factly, and rather coldly, at that. “In truth, I only wish to ensure my own survival in this regard. I am happy to work alongside– or even under– you, should you provide a path for me to simply continue living within the tumultuous future I’ve come to expect. After all, I fully expect I’ll need allies.” By the time he finishes speaking, he’s reconnected their gazes, if only for a brief moment this time.

The pale elf raises a hand to his face, resting his thumb on his bottom lip as he’s asked questions. He looks away again, at nothing– very common when he’s thinking. “For me, huh…?” Words spoken musingly, voice oddly soft. “On a purely personal level…magical prowess, growth, strength.” He gesticulates as if to underscore each of the last three words. “I want to unravel the mysteries of the arcane whilst seeking power for myself, really…but beyond that? I do feel like I have a duty to my house, at least, to some tertiary degree,” he laughs a bit at the sentiment. “I’d like to perhaps unite with House Lorraine, if possible. Help spread Sil’norai influence and the like. I’ve…nothing really concrete for the moment, though.” His voice makes him sound unsure.

"I am also ever so curious to find out more about your involvement with Brilan." He states this with a smile, maintaining a voice smooth as velvet while allowing his interest to be heard.

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'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Raillen Tongue/Speech"