The following is a copy/pasta transcription of Discord RP between myself (Claret) and Halonan (Brembal). Enjoy! ))
Whatever existence Brembal is contained to within the crystal makes a drastic shift when he is put in the possession of the Red Witch. Perhaps true to her word that when next they met, he’d be invited to more than just her front doorstep, she crafts the appearance of a lavish parlor for him, complete with silken scarlet curtains that cover its windows, plush lounge seats, and a stained mahogany table of untold quality. The room is hexagonal in shape, perhaps part of a larger structure, perhaps not, with three doors that presumably lead out of it but they always remain closed. An intricately carved study desk waits in the corner for him, lit by warm candlelight.
“Did they finally heed my instruction?” Brembal inspects his new surroundings. His eyebrow raised, he looks about. He settles at the desk. “Oh, this will do nicely.”
Claret appears, notably using a door instead of simply appearing out of thin air, as is her usual purview. Also unlike her usual appearances, she appears wholly corporeal and her feet touch the floor. Her hood drawn back, she appears as a human of perfect breeding, youthful but with respectful touches of age at her eyes and corners of her mouth, and long tresses of auburn hair allowed to flow freely and loosely curled at the ends. “I thought it would suit you. I made a few assumptions based on impressions of your character, my dear Necromancer.”
“You read my character well, or is this something you pulled from the mind of our Idella?” He smiles, his gaze playfully finding her eyes. “To what or whom do I owe the visit, Claret?”
“All on my own. She wishes not to see me, and so I have respected her wishes for now. In fact, once she discovers my involvement in her salvation, and her closest friends spoke with me, I am certain she will be troubled.” With a wave of her hand, she conjures a tea tray. That is as far as she goes with magic, the rest of the cup preparations are methodically done by hand.
“So, where do we stand, Claret? I can only assume a price was paid to get us this far.” He smirks at her.
Claret sits on one of the silk chaise lounges – or more accurately, lays in comfortable repose, her back propped up, her legs curled demurely, and her eyes set on Brembal. The tray floats and rests on the table between the chairs. “Your kin surrendered you to me, which on its own, carries tremendous power. Magic is not only in spells, but intent,” she sips her tea, still watching him. “But you wanted to come here all on your own from the start, which adds another layer of intent. And so I inquire, Brembal dear, why choose here?”
Brembal seems to be admiring the craftsmanship of the desk. “But where else?” Brembal turns to look at her. “We have much to offer one another.”
“Ah, so it’s a proposal, then.” Claret idly traces a delicate finger around the rim of her tea cup, her eyes still not moving from Brembal. “What can a human necromancer’s soul offer to me, and what do you wish to take in return?” She flows one hand in the air, gesturing languidly towards their surroundings. “You already have far better accommodations than most condemned souls, but consider it a courteous gesture on my part in return for answers to my questions.”
Brembal smiles at this. “Captive, you say? I could get used to this. However, I think I could be much more useful to you than a mere prisoner or small conduit of energy.”
“So you wish to play a game. Very well, Necromancer, I accept,” she sets her tea cup down on the tray, her long hair slipping down her shoulders as she briefly bends over. Her dark silken dress, while practically like wearing nothing when it comes to showing every bend of her curves, shows no plunge of cleavage. “It has been long since I played any game worth participating. It is true, your soul would only be a momentary source of power, and is better as a source of entertainment. And so,” she leans back onto the lounge. Never do her eyes leave him. “How shall you entertain?”
“I am a man that is not easily swayed by the comeliness of a woman, but I must confess that your illusion is tailored to my liking.” Brembal stands, no longer distracted by the desk. “You keep to the wilderness and live life away from the living. Why?”
Claret smiles, as if reveling in the inquiry. “Tell me, my dear Necromancer, does it reveal more about you, and what you value, than it does my ‘odd’ lifestyle?” A glass of red wine appears in her hand and she takes a sip, pausing to taste it before she answers. “I have already lived countless lives. Now and then, I retreat into nothing, which is where you see me now. Perhaps to escape monotony of living or simply collect my power for greater things,” she sips her wine again, watching Brembal. “There is much you do not know.”
“I am a student of life and death, not the master of either. You are careful to be a puzzle. It’s as alluring as it is tiring. We have lifetimes, why not enlighten me?” He looks at his hand and then at her, tangibility on his mind.
“No one, not even the most professed selfless beggar, takes on enlightenment out of simple benign curiosity. Even the Pandaren relish in the emotional wealth of being freed of mental trappings. And you are a calculating man. Even taking your own life, as you did, was not without purpose. And so, if you wish to continue your pursuit of power here, my dear Necromancer, you know well I never give without price.”
“You are a clever beast. Magic is always garnered at a price.” He eyes her form. “So how do I please the owner of my soul? I am a man with many desires and many ambitions, but I know nothing about yours.”
Claret smiles at him. “I am an open book, if you simply infer the obvious. I have many of the same desires as yours. I wish to live, of course, though you recently forfeited that desire. I have loved and lost, as you have. I even bore and raised children, as you chose to do in life. I was born mortal, therefore was tethered to all the mortal toils till I freed myself of it. Perhaps this is your start to doing the same, which is why I find you curious and took your soul from your daughter’s hands.”
“But above all, I pursued magic, and destroyed anything that stood in my way of doing so. You included, should you entertain you could do so without being decimated with little effort. You are clever, and do not tell me everything, but I would be disappointed if you did,” she sips her wine, her eyes ever watchful. Almost playful. “Is that enough for you?”
“Nothing has ever been enough for me.”
Claret smiles again, sipping her wine. “Then we perfectly understand one another.”
The red lady rises from her lounge. With a sweep of her hand, the tea tray shifts from simple tea and finger sandwiches to a full-course meal. It’s delectable, the meat succulent, vegetables cooked to al dente perfection, the plate finishes with an exquisite truffle risotto. “Eat, your soul must be famished. It is not real, of course. But magic that will sustain you. I promise no tricks, it is simply to keep your wits sharp. Otherwise you risk becoming listless and dull,” she gestures to his person. “A detached soul can be a difficult existence.”
“I feel as if I am no stranger to this detachment. It seems my destiny. I have been without a good portion of my soul for sometime.” He reaches for the food and then pauses. “Magic…yes. Idella has Vivian’s library. It contains some powerful magic. Life magic that could very well be used as a weapon against someone like you or myself. If she learns to decode it, that is.” He returns his attention to the food.
“My little Ida has always been a threat. And a thief, it seems. These are not the first books she’s taken presumably without permission,” she draws a curtain, revealing an intricate stained-glass window framing one translucent window pane. Only darkness seems visible outside it, but she idly gazes outside it as if she is observing a peaceful outdoor scene. “But you already knew one of those things. Your language was also quite peppered with insults toward me on her mousey nature, if I recall.”
“At this point, looking at my own girls, I am not sure I am qualified to criticize.” Brembal has eaten his fill. “So, what is it you wish, my master. I am clearly in your service and their is much to be done.”
Claret smiles, amused. “Perhaps if you had gotten to her first, she would have been your student. As it was, she was rightfully cautious by the time she met you. In some ways, I am sorry I inadvertently denied you that opportunity. It would have been interesting to observe. But what is done is done.”
Closing the curtain, she turns to Brembal. Noting he is done with his plate, she waves it away. “I will enjoy this game of ours. I am curious what you will do once you believe you bid enough of your time.”
“Your first task is a matter with your daughters. You will know more in time, once they seek me out.”
Brembal looks around the luxurious room again. “You do illusion well. Is this vision of you what you believe I wish to see, or did actually walk in life as the sumptuous flower I see before me, master?”
She smiles again, seemingly enjoying herself. “Since you are so intent to know, do find endeavor to find out, my dear Necromancer. I am curious what you could learn on your own.”
“If I had to guess, milady, you are enjoying this game.” Brembal’s eyes narrow as his lips curl into a smile. “I must confess that my own curiosity burns as well.” He takes a step closer to his new master. “Are you tangible, I wonder?”
“Think it through,” her tone ever patient, like a teacher to a child. But there is also a playfulness to her tone that edges on condescending, as if she has taught this very lesson before. “How could I be tangible? Where are we, what are you, and how did I put myself in here with you?” She watches him closely.
“I am thinking it through. Every question is a test. I am developing a diabolical scheme as we speak.” Brembal smirks. “The food felt real, but was not. I was merely testing the depth of your illusion. If you felt as real as the magical sustainment you provided me, well…”
“I gave your soul sustainment in a form you’d recognize. You are a soul that lived and walked as a mortal, and your current existence is anything but. I could sustain you by other means, but small steps. You must adjust,” she eyes him coyly. “Are you peckish for something else, my dear Necromancer?”
“Of course I am. It’s a mixed bag. A good deal of my analytical muscle is dissecting a way to gain an upper hand. But, I have to confess, part of me also desires to serve you in a ‘deeper’ capacity.”
Claret traces a finger down Brembal’s face, close but not quite touching. “Intriguing, I never took a lover who did not challenge me. I always was drawn to the dangerous. There is no point to consummation otherwise. Perhaps you could meet that bar. Time will tell,” she starts to turn away. “Your daughters. One would make a fine student, the other will seek me out soon. Would you like to speak with them?” She lets the question hang in the air.
Brembal nods. “Of course. They would be very hesitant to serve you. I would be doing you both a service, and in turn furthering my own desires. They need what you provide.” Brembal laughs at himself. “Desire… I don’t think I have spoken the word so many times in such a short period. I fear I may become transparent.”
Claret laughs, “Oh, my dear. Please do not. If you become too transparent, I will bore of our game. I want you to defy me. I want you to desire and scheme. It is the most intriguing thing about you.”
With a wave of her hand, the window curtain where she peered out of earlier parts. Through the window, his daughters can separately be seen. “When someone knows of and is intent to find me, I can see them. It is a simple spell, really, with wonderful consequences. Since they are intent on me, I will let you watch your daughters,” she pauses momentarily, gazing at Zinnias’ window pane with amusement. “Though you may want to wait a few moments for one to be decent.”
Brembal cocks a brow. “This vessel has limits. It is not as impervious as I once thought. Before my very soul, you have now demonstrated the two-way travel of magic through the walls of this crystal. You gamble on me either figuring out its vulnerabilities, or you underestimate me. Both ideas are equally delectable.”
Claret turns to him, smiling, “As you are, you have all the time in the world to find out. That is, unless something still mortal is keeping you on a schedule,” she tilts her head, looking at him. “If you breached this vessel, my dear Necromancer, where would your soul go?”
“I am not a man without contingency. I was very deliberate with every rune, and with my instructions. I did not land in your lap accidentally. But, you already knew that.” Brembal glances at Claret, his gaze confident. “I believe we will continue to entertain one another for quite some time.”
“I do hope so,” gesturing to the room. “I have already gifted you so much, my dear Necromancer. I can continue to be a gracious hostess. Is there anything else you desire, before I conclude my visit?” Her eyes, as always, watch him, now with a growing and amused curiosity.
“As you said, you have given me so much already, my sweet master.” Brembal bows properly, taking to knee.
Claret smiles, “Remember, dear. I want you to defy me. I would set you loose on this world to see what you do, but that would spoil the ending. It would also deny you the pleasure of earning such a victory on your own. Your company was an unexpected gift to me, and I will relish it while I can.”
“For now, my Necromancer, I have matters outside your vessel to attend to. What magic I gave you should keep you tireless for some time. You are no longer bound by mortal rules. Dispel any outdated physical limitations and please, enjoy yourself. Your daughter will be here soon.” She departs the way she came, through one of the three doors.
Brembal sits down in the provided desk. The illusion was much to his liking. “Perhaps I should have asked for a Chess board.” Brembal grins, and his thoughts begin churning out his next move.