74th of Ash, 4621
It wasn't without its merits, he supposed. Just because he had to give in for the sake of his friend, didn't mean he couldn't also get something out of it, did it? he'd promised Reiss that if anything went wrong with the surgery, that he'd convince another Necromancer, named Raphael, to restore her in his place. Arkash had underestimated the task ahead of him so severely that Reiss ended up unable to move the limb he'd supposedly restored; he'd done it wrong somehow.
Promises were not something Arkash took lightly, his word was all he had. It became fairly clear that Arkash would be unable to restore the older Rathor, and so he had to give in and ask Raphael to help him. The only problem with that was that Raphael refused to do anything for him, nothing at all without so much as an inch of wiggle-room. It all came down to the condition that Arkash would give him blood magic, which he wasn't even willing to admit he had possession of, much less initiate someone in. Much less initiate HIM in.
He dreaded it, more than anything. To imagine giving a man like Raphael magic so strong that it was hunted to obscurity made his stomach churn. He could only imagine what the veir would do with such a thing, and none of it was for the good of the world. Nobles sought only one thing in their lives, all of them were the same. Personal gain. Be it monetary, status, strength, nobles only sought more of what they already had. Raphael was no exception to the rule Arkash had established in his mind.
He had to stall the man's initiation. He had to somehow find the hawk after adding some sort of clause that prevented him from immediately initiating the man... But what? Arkash furrowed his brow on his way along that dirt road, walking all the way back to the fortress. He rubbed at his temple while he thought, and steadily reverted back into his humanoid form. He looked out across the darkened wasteland, tinted some shade of blue with the aid of the moon and stars. The ground was still warm on his bare feet, something he appreciated about the nights there.
His thoughts continued to wander for some time while he considered what he might do to slow Raphael down. His eyes widened with realization, then. Was that true? Could it work? If that was really the truth with magic, then it would be perfect. He only stood to gain.
Through the brick halls that led to various parts of the fortress, under the shallow lamplight that barely grazed his skin with its warmth. It was still nighttime in the fortress, and most of the military situated there was asleep. All the other slaves had been stowed in their pens, all but him. Given free passage to wander, there was the odd Halamire that stopped at the realization that a slave was loose, then continued on their way when they realized he was the one that was given the freedom to roam by the Veir himself.
Quickly, Arkash brought himself to the Veir's quarters, and glanced between the two Halamire posted there. He looked between them, then stepped toward the door. At once, they crossed their halberds to block his path, barring the door. Arkash curled his nose. "Let me through, dogs."
"His lordship is asleep, be on your way."
"I wasn't asking!" Arkash spat, baring his teeth. "HEY, RAPHAEL!" he called, and one of the knights immediately took a swing at him. Arkash ducked beneath the swipe with ease. "I'M READY-!" he was interrupted by the swing of the other knight's sabaton, which he rolled aside to evade. "-TO TALK!"
One of the soldiers lowered their halberd, poised to run him through. Arkash was too light on his feet for some long-wind attack to land, but the knight tried anyway and rushed toward him in a death charge, Arkash lept off the ground, streamlined through the knight's gait, and rolled out of the way of the other knight's stomp just in time for the door to open, with Raphael in his nightgown. "Oh, Derek," he called with a yawn while he watched the rathor evading the strikes and attempted stabbings of his knights. "...Hopeless," he spoke with a sneer and shook his head. "Enough, you're marking up my walls," the Veir ordered.
Both Halamire, worked up and panting beneath their visors, stopped at the order. Arkash squinted from his crouched position, then rose to stand before looking to the noble. "I'm ready to talk terms," he declared before Raphael could ask what he wanted.
"Really?" The man asked with a raise of his brows. "That's good. had you woken me at this hour for any other reason, I would have confiscated your skin. Come, come in," he spoke with a motion of his hand. Arkash looked between the two Halamire, who were struggling to regain their breath and steady their hearts, then entered the room once Raphael stepped aside.
"You really need better guards," Arkash began. "I saw fifteen openings to deal a fatal blow, and that's just with my bare hands," he exaggerated, it was more like four.
Raphael smirked, then nodded. "Noted..." he yawned, covering his mouth. "When you say terms..." he stopped his yawn. "You mean for your mark, right? Terms of initiating me?" Arkash nodded in reply. With that, the noble took the handle again, then poked his head through the crack in the door to speak "you're dismissed," to the two guards. Once the door was closed, he heard the march of boots walk down the hall, all the way to the staircase at the end, then taper off and disappear.
"Yeah, for my mark," Arkash affirmed.
"I thought you weren't a Vandikar?" The noble returned with a look of amusement. "How do I know you're not just messing with me?" it had become something of a habit for Arkash, to lead the noble on and snatch away his hope when it felt most dramatically viable, but it wasn't something he always did.
Arkash rolled his eyes, then assumed his true form once more. As his claws took shape, he pressed his thumb to the armor-like scales of his wrist and broke a hole in his flesh with a growl. Copious, thick blood ran from his open wound, and Arkash began to leech from the gash before the noble. A pull of his claws shaped the handle of a blade in his hand, and he drew a full sword from the gap in his scales like he was unsheathing it from a scabbard, but the scabbard was his veins and arteries. The black blade rested neatly in his claws, perfectly balanced and weighted to perfection. "Bloodshaping," he declared.
Raphael's eyes were alight with passion. It was like he had the confirmation he'd been looking for for many years. "I KNEW IT!" The noble called with a pump of his fist, utterly stoked. "YES!" Arkash rose two scalie brows. He could only wonder what had the mage so worked up, what he wanted blood magic so desperately for. "...So what do you want? Name your price... Anything within my power is yours, lizard."
Arkash wrapped the blade like a band around his open wound, compressing the cut and dulling the edge. When he was certain he wasn't bleeding anymore, he crossed his arms. "I have a list," he declared. "You better write it down because I'm not repeating myself, and these are non-negotiable."
At once, Raphael was on his way to the dek across his room, where he brought out a piece of parchment and dipped a quill in the inkwell there. After writing some lines, he looked over to the Rathor "First item?" he asked with a flex of his brow.
"I want you to train me in necromancy until I'm proficient enough to be called a doctor."
Raphael laughed quite audibly, slapping the table before it oh-so-quickly died. "Oh, you're serious," he spoke with shock, then wrote something on the parchment before he dipped his quill again. "Okay, go on..."
"I want one of your marks of control in return, nightfall."
"Easy enough," Raphael spoke with a nod, adding it to the list. "Next?"
"You will repair that undead Rathor I mentioned earlier in the day."
A roll of Raphael's eyes accompanied a shake of his head. "Fine, fine. Anything else?"
"I want the cadavers of anyone who either falls in battle here or is executed as a prisoner. For the duration of my stay."
"...Right, right. Dranoch have to eat," He nodded in acceptance, and wrote it in.
"And finally... You need to help me become strong enough to initiate you," he lied. Arkash wasn't sure how strong one needed to be in order to initiate someone else, but he wanted to be stronger anyway, and all he'd ever learned was blood shaping, sway, and leech. What was more? It would slow Raphael down.
Raphael began to write that in, then paused. He held his stare for a long while. "...What do you mean? You're not proficient?" he asked in confusion.
"...I killed the one that initiated me in the first week of my imprisonment. I've had no one to guide me since then," elaborated the rath with a turn of his hand. "All I know is how to shape blood, and though it's useful, I imagine there's more to the magic that I just don't know about. If you can help me get stronger, then I can initiate you."
Raphael pursed his lips, then nodded. "I do have my own research on the magic around here somewhere, mostly just accounts from people who have seen it at work. I can talk you through the techniques and bolster your strength..." he thought aloud. "We'll have to be careful not to kill you with the mageblight, which is to say we'll have a relatively slow progression, but I think we'll be good to have you initiate me in the Glade, if not the Frost..." he thought aloud. Mageblight? Arkash furrowed his brow. What was that?
"I trust your judgment," Arkash nodded. Only because Raphael needed him alive to get anything from him. The noble continued to scribble some things onto the parchment, then looked to the rath with a flex of his brow.
"So is that everything? You don't want your money back or anything? Your guns?"
Arkash shook his head, paused, then parted his lips. "I feel like this goes without saying, but I want some damn respect while we're working together. I don't expect a noble to step down from his high horse and treat me like an equal, but don't talk to me like I'm trash... Oh, and let me be free to wander wherever I want."
"...Hm," Raphael pursed his lips. "I'll call you my student, then. An apprentice, or an assistant, training on the job." He didn't write that in, however, the noble scratched at his chin. "...And how do I know you'll return if I let you wander free? As far as I know, all you're here for is the Necromancy."
Arkash nodded, tapping his claws on the floor. "I mean, I still have to learn, right? I have something to gain from coming back to you... But I'll accept it if you hold the nightfall mark as collateral; after I've given you my mark."
Raphael seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. "...You want it that badly, huh?" he spoke with a grin, then began to write on the parchment some more.
"Control over darkness would be very useful for someone of my skillset..." he began to explain with a bow of his head. What was more, it would grant him exemption from the status of a slave, even if he was a commoner. But that was secondary. Arkash didn't really know enough about the magic to want it that badly, it was just a rouse. It was another layer of deception to suggest to Raphael that Arkash wouldn't kill him during the initiation, but he very well might.
Raphael grinned at that, knowing all the carnage Arkash might cause if he was given that sort of power. "Very well... I find your terms acceptable, and I've written up an official agreement here." The noble cleared his throat. "...I, Arkash of no Surname, agree to responsibly bestow upon Raphael Mael Mathis, my only mark in return for the fulfillment of the following, below-listed items: Training in Necromancy to the proficiency of a doctor, the restoration of my undead friend by the name of Reiss, sufficient foods of my choice for the duration of my stay, training in my mark so that I might attain the strength needed to initiate another, and common decency. I hereby sign below with the agreement that I will grant my mark to the above-named Veir on fulfillment of these items," he spoke with another clearing of his throat. "Then below that, it says that I, Raphael Mael Mathis, will responsibly bestow the mark of nightfall upon Arkash of no Surname upon the completion of the above-written agreement. Signed... And then there's space for both of our signatures." He let the paper down, then looked up to the Rathor. "...Do we have an agreement? Is this fair?"
Arkash nodded his head a little, then grinned. "I think so. Thank you for using my real name too. Having a record of Derek obtaining magic would be something of a problem."
"Of course, of course," the noble spoke with a nod, then laid out the contract for Arkash to see.
He couldn't read, but what did he care about written agreements anyway? If it made the noble more comfortable, he'd sign it. In the space that the human indicated, Arkash drew his calling card, the crescent above the blood moon. He caught the confused furrow of Raphael's brow, then explained "I can't read," bluntly. "I don't know how to write my name."
"Oh," he returned with a tilt of his head. "Well yes, that makes sense. I suppose that's something else we might work on if all goes well," the noble spoke with a kind smile, a smile Arkash didn't trust, then signed in his space. After the ink had dried, the man rolled the parchment up, then tied it shut with a crimson ribbon, much the same color as the heraldry of house Mathis. "It's done," the Lord spoke with a sigh. "We'll start on your Dunash friend, then?"
"...Dunash?" Arkash returned with a furrow of his brow.
"Yes, she's not a thrall, right?"
"I very much doubt it..."
"Then she's a Dunash, a blight... not unlike a dranoch," he spoke with a gesture of his finger. Arkash nodded his head. He'd never even heard of a Dunash before. So Reiss was once mortal, and she had died? He couldn't imagine talking about that was at all comfortable for her. "So, where is she? Can you bring her here?"
A bow of his head was his response, and the two made plans to bring her there. He was given a writ that explained to any Halamire that might have stopped him, and he was on his way to meet the wolf again.
It wasn't without its merits, he supposed. Just because he had to give in for the sake of his friend, didn't mean he couldn't also get something out of it, did it? he'd promised Reiss that if anything went wrong with the surgery, that he'd convince another Necromancer, named Raphael, to restore her in his place. Arkash had underestimated the task ahead of him so severely that Reiss ended up unable to move the limb he'd supposedly restored; he'd done it wrong somehow.
Promises were not something Arkash took lightly, his word was all he had. It became fairly clear that Arkash would be unable to restore the older Rathor, and so he had to give in and ask Raphael to help him. The only problem with that was that Raphael refused to do anything for him, nothing at all without so much as an inch of wiggle-room. It all came down to the condition that Arkash would give him blood magic, which he wasn't even willing to admit he had possession of, much less initiate someone in. Much less initiate HIM in.
He dreaded it, more than anything. To imagine giving a man like Raphael magic so strong that it was hunted to obscurity made his stomach churn. He could only imagine what the veir would do with such a thing, and none of it was for the good of the world. Nobles sought only one thing in their lives, all of them were the same. Personal gain. Be it monetary, status, strength, nobles only sought more of what they already had. Raphael was no exception to the rule Arkash had established in his mind.
He had to stall the man's initiation. He had to somehow find the hawk after adding some sort of clause that prevented him from immediately initiating the man... But what? Arkash furrowed his brow on his way along that dirt road, walking all the way back to the fortress. He rubbed at his temple while he thought, and steadily reverted back into his humanoid form. He looked out across the darkened wasteland, tinted some shade of blue with the aid of the moon and stars. The ground was still warm on his bare feet, something he appreciated about the nights there.
His thoughts continued to wander for some time while he considered what he might do to slow Raphael down. His eyes widened with realization, then. Was that true? Could it work? If that was really the truth with magic, then it would be perfect. He only stood to gain.
Through the brick halls that led to various parts of the fortress, under the shallow lamplight that barely grazed his skin with its warmth. It was still nighttime in the fortress, and most of the military situated there was asleep. All the other slaves had been stowed in their pens, all but him. Given free passage to wander, there was the odd Halamire that stopped at the realization that a slave was loose, then continued on their way when they realized he was the one that was given the freedom to roam by the Veir himself.
Quickly, Arkash brought himself to the Veir's quarters, and glanced between the two Halamire posted there. He looked between them, then stepped toward the door. At once, they crossed their halberds to block his path, barring the door. Arkash curled his nose. "Let me through, dogs."
"His lordship is asleep, be on your way."
"I wasn't asking!" Arkash spat, baring his teeth. "HEY, RAPHAEL!" he called, and one of the knights immediately took a swing at him. Arkash ducked beneath the swipe with ease. "I'M READY-!" he was interrupted by the swing of the other knight's sabaton, which he rolled aside to evade. "-TO TALK!"
One of the soldiers lowered their halberd, poised to run him through. Arkash was too light on his feet for some long-wind attack to land, but the knight tried anyway and rushed toward him in a death charge, Arkash lept off the ground, streamlined through the knight's gait, and rolled out of the way of the other knight's stomp just in time for the door to open, with Raphael in his nightgown. "Oh, Derek," he called with a yawn while he watched the rathor evading the strikes and attempted stabbings of his knights. "...Hopeless," he spoke with a sneer and shook his head. "Enough, you're marking up my walls," the Veir ordered.
Both Halamire, worked up and panting beneath their visors, stopped at the order. Arkash squinted from his crouched position, then rose to stand before looking to the noble. "I'm ready to talk terms," he declared before Raphael could ask what he wanted.
"Really?" The man asked with a raise of his brows. "That's good. had you woken me at this hour for any other reason, I would have confiscated your skin. Come, come in," he spoke with a motion of his hand. Arkash looked between the two Halamire, who were struggling to regain their breath and steady their hearts, then entered the room once Raphael stepped aside.
"You really need better guards," Arkash began. "I saw fifteen openings to deal a fatal blow, and that's just with my bare hands," he exaggerated, it was more like four.
Raphael smirked, then nodded. "Noted..." he yawned, covering his mouth. "When you say terms..." he stopped his yawn. "You mean for your mark, right? Terms of initiating me?" Arkash nodded in reply. With that, the noble took the handle again, then poked his head through the crack in the door to speak "you're dismissed," to the two guards. Once the door was closed, he heard the march of boots walk down the hall, all the way to the staircase at the end, then taper off and disappear.
"Yeah, for my mark," Arkash affirmed.
"I thought you weren't a Vandikar?" The noble returned with a look of amusement. "How do I know you're not just messing with me?" it had become something of a habit for Arkash, to lead the noble on and snatch away his hope when it felt most dramatically viable, but it wasn't something he always did.
Arkash rolled his eyes, then assumed his true form once more. As his claws took shape, he pressed his thumb to the armor-like scales of his wrist and broke a hole in his flesh with a growl. Copious, thick blood ran from his open wound, and Arkash began to leech from the gash before the noble. A pull of his claws shaped the handle of a blade in his hand, and he drew a full sword from the gap in his scales like he was unsheathing it from a scabbard, but the scabbard was his veins and arteries. The black blade rested neatly in his claws, perfectly balanced and weighted to perfection. "Bloodshaping," he declared.
Raphael's eyes were alight with passion. It was like he had the confirmation he'd been looking for for many years. "I KNEW IT!" The noble called with a pump of his fist, utterly stoked. "YES!" Arkash rose two scalie brows. He could only wonder what had the mage so worked up, what he wanted blood magic so desperately for. "...So what do you want? Name your price... Anything within my power is yours, lizard."
Arkash wrapped the blade like a band around his open wound, compressing the cut and dulling the edge. When he was certain he wasn't bleeding anymore, he crossed his arms. "I have a list," he declared. "You better write it down because I'm not repeating myself, and these are non-negotiable."
At once, Raphael was on his way to the dek across his room, where he brought out a piece of parchment and dipped a quill in the inkwell there. After writing some lines, he looked over to the Rathor "First item?" he asked with a flex of his brow.
"I want you to train me in necromancy until I'm proficient enough to be called a doctor."
Raphael laughed quite audibly, slapping the table before it oh-so-quickly died. "Oh, you're serious," he spoke with shock, then wrote something on the parchment before he dipped his quill again. "Okay, go on..."
"I want one of your marks of control in return, nightfall."
"Easy enough," Raphael spoke with a nod, adding it to the list. "Next?"
"You will repair that undead Rathor I mentioned earlier in the day."
A roll of Raphael's eyes accompanied a shake of his head. "Fine, fine. Anything else?"
"I want the cadavers of anyone who either falls in battle here or is executed as a prisoner. For the duration of my stay."
"...Right, right. Dranoch have to eat," He nodded in acceptance, and wrote it in.
"And finally... You need to help me become strong enough to initiate you," he lied. Arkash wasn't sure how strong one needed to be in order to initiate someone else, but he wanted to be stronger anyway, and all he'd ever learned was blood shaping, sway, and leech. What was more? It would slow Raphael down.
Raphael began to write that in, then paused. He held his stare for a long while. "...What do you mean? You're not proficient?" he asked in confusion.
"...I killed the one that initiated me in the first week of my imprisonment. I've had no one to guide me since then," elaborated the rath with a turn of his hand. "All I know is how to shape blood, and though it's useful, I imagine there's more to the magic that I just don't know about. If you can help me get stronger, then I can initiate you."
Raphael pursed his lips, then nodded. "I do have my own research on the magic around here somewhere, mostly just accounts from people who have seen it at work. I can talk you through the techniques and bolster your strength..." he thought aloud. "We'll have to be careful not to kill you with the mageblight, which is to say we'll have a relatively slow progression, but I think we'll be good to have you initiate me in the Glade, if not the Frost..." he thought aloud. Mageblight? Arkash furrowed his brow. What was that?
"I trust your judgment," Arkash nodded. Only because Raphael needed him alive to get anything from him. The noble continued to scribble some things onto the parchment, then looked to the rath with a flex of his brow.
"So is that everything? You don't want your money back or anything? Your guns?"
Arkash shook his head, paused, then parted his lips. "I feel like this goes without saying, but I want some damn respect while we're working together. I don't expect a noble to step down from his high horse and treat me like an equal, but don't talk to me like I'm trash... Oh, and let me be free to wander wherever I want."
"...Hm," Raphael pursed his lips. "I'll call you my student, then. An apprentice, or an assistant, training on the job." He didn't write that in, however, the noble scratched at his chin. "...And how do I know you'll return if I let you wander free? As far as I know, all you're here for is the Necromancy."
Arkash nodded, tapping his claws on the floor. "I mean, I still have to learn, right? I have something to gain from coming back to you... But I'll accept it if you hold the nightfall mark as collateral; after I've given you my mark."
Raphael seemed to think for a moment, then nodded. "...You want it that badly, huh?" he spoke with a grin, then began to write on the parchment some more.
"Control over darkness would be very useful for someone of my skillset..." he began to explain with a bow of his head. What was more, it would grant him exemption from the status of a slave, even if he was a commoner. But that was secondary. Arkash didn't really know enough about the magic to want it that badly, it was just a rouse. It was another layer of deception to suggest to Raphael that Arkash wouldn't kill him during the initiation, but he very well might.
Raphael grinned at that, knowing all the carnage Arkash might cause if he was given that sort of power. "Very well... I find your terms acceptable, and I've written up an official agreement here." The noble cleared his throat. "...I, Arkash of no Surname, agree to responsibly bestow upon Raphael Mael Mathis, my only mark in return for the fulfillment of the following, below-listed items: Training in Necromancy to the proficiency of a doctor, the restoration of my undead friend by the name of Reiss, sufficient foods of my choice for the duration of my stay, training in my mark so that I might attain the strength needed to initiate another, and common decency. I hereby sign below with the agreement that I will grant my mark to the above-named Veir on fulfillment of these items," he spoke with another clearing of his throat. "Then below that, it says that I, Raphael Mael Mathis, will responsibly bestow the mark of nightfall upon Arkash of no Surname upon the completion of the above-written agreement. Signed... And then there's space for both of our signatures." He let the paper down, then looked up to the Rathor. "...Do we have an agreement? Is this fair?"
Arkash nodded his head a little, then grinned. "I think so. Thank you for using my real name too. Having a record of Derek obtaining magic would be something of a problem."
"Of course, of course," the noble spoke with a nod, then laid out the contract for Arkash to see.
He couldn't read, but what did he care about written agreements anyway? If it made the noble more comfortable, he'd sign it. In the space that the human indicated, Arkash drew his calling card, the crescent above the blood moon. He caught the confused furrow of Raphael's brow, then explained "I can't read," bluntly. "I don't know how to write my name."
"Oh," he returned with a tilt of his head. "Well yes, that makes sense. I suppose that's something else we might work on if all goes well," the noble spoke with a kind smile, a smile Arkash didn't trust, then signed in his space. After the ink had dried, the man rolled the parchment up, then tied it shut with a crimson ribbon, much the same color as the heraldry of house Mathis. "It's done," the Lord spoke with a sigh. "We'll start on your Dunash friend, then?"
"...Dunash?" Arkash returned with a furrow of his brow.
"Yes, she's not a thrall, right?"
"I very much doubt it..."
"Then she's a Dunash, a blight... not unlike a dranoch," he spoke with a gesture of his finger. Arkash nodded his head. He'd never even heard of a Dunash before. So Reiss was once mortal, and she had died? He couldn't imagine talking about that was at all comfortable for her. "So, where is she? Can you bring her here?"
A bow of his head was his response, and the two made plans to bring her there. He was given a writ that explained to any Halamire that might have stopped him, and he was on his way to meet the wolf again.
