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Master

{The following is a retelling of RP that occurred largely between Vynlorin and @cerusaniduskbinder with a few points from @aredhelvaltieri and @barirnshadowwind, and @sparrow-of-arnud and @nivathostin for mentions.

Very little has been altered from the original RP only for the sake of storytelling flow.}

[A simple parchment was posted on the notice board in the late afternoon. Very few words were written, but the words posted there were large and elegant and demanded attention. The seal of House Shandaumath sat at the bottom of the notice.]

WANTED: Hemomancer

Any who can provide reliable information on the whereabouts of a hemomancer will be handsomely rewarded. Further inquiries should be redirected to Master Vynlorin Shandaumath.

Search with haste. Time is of the essence.

...

“Master Vynlorin. When you have time I have information you are looking for.”

Cerusani’s voice rang out through the communication device that Vynlorin hated so much. He set aside the scroll of hemomancy that he had been researching and clicked the little button on the device attached beneath his shoulder pads.

“I have time now.”

“I am finishing up an appointment. I will be available in about ten minutes.”

He pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose. Another meeting with Cerusani, and it would end with just as much disappointment as the rest. But he couldn’t risk not seeing her. The fate of the sickly Ithildir depended on this hunt.

“Find me in Thornwood.”

Vynlorin left his books and scrolls in an organized mess and retreated from his study only to greet Nivathostin who had been standing outside as patiently as ever. The man had few interests and fewer words, and the master of the house had grown fond of him.

“Come, Nivathostin. We have a guest tonight.” As if being beckoned like a dog, the blue-haired ren’dorei following behind his master, and the pair made way into the dining hall for preparations.

....

It wasn’t long before Cerusani made her way into the room with classical Cerusani confidence. Her shoulders were back with her head held high even though she knew who she was meeting.

“Master Vynlorin. I made it here as quickly as I could. Thankfully I was just across the way and not in the city.” She did not dare take a seat anywhere as she waited for the man to acknowledge her presence.

The table was empty except for the bottle of Dalaran Red and two glasses beside it. One had already been filled and teased by the master of the house while the other remained cold and empty in anticipation of the coming guest. Aside from the usual servants that stood idle along the walls, Vynlorin was not alone. Next to his seat stood a thin ren’dore who, although far too skinny, seemed in decent health. The man boasted short blue hair and steady eyes that were unwavering in their inspection upon Cerusani when she arrived, but Vynlorin met her with a curious gaze as he waved to the empty seat nearest to her.

“Of course. Have a seat.”

A servant peeled himself from the wall with quick feet and reached for the bottle of wine and empty glass, pouring the woman her drink as she settled in.

Cerusani wasted no time in taking the offered seat with grace as she sat upon the wood which made a small noise. The servant who had poured the wine offered it up to Cerusani and she took it by the stem. “Thank you.” The two small words were offered to the servant before she began to swirl the delectable wine that they both enjoyed. However, Cerusani did not look at the wine but instead flitted her violet eyes between Master Vynlorin and the unknown man.

“Is he the one you need the hemomancer for? I thought it was Ithildir. That would be odd though as I told Ithildir what I knew two nights ago.” A brow arched as she shifted around the thoughts within her head. Politely she took a sip of the wine.

Vynlorin quirked a brow. “Did you? So you’ve already discussed it with Ithildir while he made no mention of it to me.” His finger gently tapped against the glass, and he entirely ignored the question she posed to him. After a moment of silent thought, he sipped and continued.

“What did he say about it?”

Cerusani sucked in the side of her cheek for a moment, contemplating.

“He said nothing but thank you. I gave him two names. Baron Herke Kruger and Lord Tion Harrowmire.” She relaxed back into the chair as she crossed one leg atop the other. “Baron Kruger once told me that Harrowmire had asked about learning hemomancy after a House of Nobles meeting. That is all I have. Though since it is frowned upon and illegal within Stormwind I am unsure if either are practitioners. It is better a lead than anything else.”

The wine within her glass swirled as she eyed the gaunt unknown man. “Did he want a glass of wine perhaps?”

Vynlorin twisted his lips and pursed them in displeasure as he received the information, but they soon pressed into a line at the attention sent toward the other man. A dismissive hand waved it off as Vynlorin looked up at the other who still remained as still and steady as ever.

“Perhaps Nivathostin’s biggest flaw is his tongue. He is a whiskey man and scorns wine whenever I offer it to him.”

There was no hiding the surprise on Cerusani’s face as she set the wine down on the table. Her eyes directly stared at Nivathostin as if seeing a made up story one only hears about once in a few moons.

“Nivathostin. Aredhele’s Nivathostin? I thought he was dead. Aredhele has always spoken of him as if he was dead. Not that she did it often. One time.” The words were low and wonderous.

Nivathostin couldn’t help but sneer at the name while his nose raised high as if he had just been insulted. “Perhaps it was always her goal,” he mused quietly with malice thick in his voice.

Vynlorin returned his gaze to his glass and allowed a snake-like grin to spread wide against his lips before chiming in. “I wasn’t aware you knew of him, Cerusani. How curious.” The master then motioned for Nivathostin to sit while waving the servants forward. “Do get a bottle of whiskey for Nivathostin here.”

With the command, the younger men scurried to the liquor cabinet, retrieved a dark bottle, and brought it to the table where they poured it into a glass and offered it to the blue-haired man taking a seat.

Cerusani finally broke her gaze away from Nivathostin and brought the eyes down to her wine glass. The ripples from the swirling radiated outward to the edges as she thought.

“I do not know much. Just the name. I know better than to ask more right now. Even if I did you would not tell me, Master Vynlorin.” As if the words parched her throat like Tanaris, Cerusani brought the wine to her lips drinking a healthy portion of it. As the glass was brought down she shifted in her seat, seeming as if she was no longer comfortable in the room. “Ithildir is dying. He had me run across Stormwind last night to fetch a potion for him. He is in no condition to fight on Sunday.”

Vynlorin shook his head at Cerusani, and Nivathostin fell silent once more as he sipped at the sweet escape of whiskey now snuggled within his hand.

“Nivathostin has had a rough few years, Cerusani, and we will do our best to make sure he’s comfortable. Let’s leave this as our little secret for now, yes?” The warlock’s predatory gaze fell heavily against the woman as his own silent threat, and the look only softened after he sipped back another dose of poison. “Ithildir is dying, yes, which is why it’s important that we find someone or something that can cure him quickly. You would do well not to fight him just as I must stay my own hand until he can recover.”

Cerusani knew the gaze that he cast upon her with the words of warning. Silence fell between the trio for a while with the only sound coming from Cerusani being the tapping of her nails atop the table.

“You want me to keep a secret for you. What do I get out of it? You’ve cast me aside. You call me a cat. You call me a disappointment. What do I get from this arrangement?” She rolled her shoulders back trying to give her the look of confidence she had when entering the room. “From your request I surmise that Lady Aredhele does not know he is here. Perhaps no one but you knows.” A brow arched as the words were pointed directly at the man.

Nivathostin paused his sip as he stared steadily at Cerusani, his breath remaining stuck in his lungs as he awaited the master’s response. Vynlorin too paused as his gaze fell into slits at the dare, and it was as if the room grew colder with a devilish curl of his lips.

“Quite simply, Cerusani, you get to keep your freedom.”

Cerusani set her wine glass down atop the table.

“I want more than that.”

Arms crossed beneath her chest as the two seemed to be in a stalemate. “You can do better, Vynlorin.” This was the first time in months that she had dropped the respect of his title.

All the servants in the room froze, stuck as statues as the tension in the air gripped their rapidly-beating hearts. Nivathostin too could feel the wrath of the master despite his innocence in the conversation. Vynlorin curled that devilish grin wider, and his wicked thoughts flashed before his eyes and danced in his mind as he considered his next move.

“Cerusani. I understand you enjoy being beaten. Perhaps you would like to demonstrate for everyone in this room what it’s like to be the subject of a lesson in disobedience.”

Cerusani should have known better and did know better but still she doubled down.

“No. I do not think I will be the subject of one of your lessons.”

The defiance flickered in her eyes as she took a moment to look from the Master to Nivathostin. Her right hand uncurled from underneath her chest and dipped into her pocket. As the hand came up from the table she held tightly onto her small communication device, finger pressed upon the button. “Lady Aredhele.”

“Yes, Cerusani?” Lady Aredhele’s voice rang out.

She took her finger off the button and cocked her head to the side once more looking at Master Vynlorin. “You can do better. Pick your next words carefully because there are different pieces to this puzzle I could pull out and say to Lady Aredhele right now.”

There was no going back. Cerusani had put this into motion.

Vynlorin squinted at the device as he heard the woman’s words ring out against his own ear from beneath his pauldrons. A soft sigh flooded from his nostrils, but he didn’t pity the woman’s fate that she had just sealed.

“Very well.”

And then, with a gentle utter beneath his breath, the shadows beneath Cerusani’s seat wriggled to life and crawled up the back of her chair only to wrest the woman’s neck backwards with its long, gangly claws. The shadowfiend crawled with tendrils and inches of nails that fashioned into claws, and it sought to squeeze the air from her neck while threatening to pierce the flesh. Nivathostin watched with dark eyes that were far too curious to hold sympathy for the woman, but the servants all sent their gazes downward and held their frightened breaths.

Cerusani pressed the button of the communication device. With all that she had left in her she squeezed out a sound.

“NIVAT-”

The word did not finish as the clawed shadows dug deeper, crushing her throat even more. With that the device fell out of her hand as the woman’s body began to grow limp.

When the radio clicked on again, the sound of broken glass was heard. Then, all was silent. Too silent. The radio connection opened after a long pause and the melodic buzz of static replaced Aredhele’s voice. There was too much emotion. Too many thoughts rushed to her mouth and she spat out with all the passion she could muster. “Where. Is. He?”

Vynlorin slammed his glass against the table and pushed himself to his feet with more fury than she would have ever seen before. His face grew dark like the very demons he commanded, and a quick flick of his wrist snuffed out every torch in the dining hall.

“Cerusani.”

That one single word dragged against the infinite dark of the shadows that now wrapped around them with the weight of every vile thought that had ever crossed the warlock’s mind. Nivathostin inhaled a deep breath that hitched itself in his throat with all the others who were unfortunate enough to be trapped in the cage with the beast and its prey.

“I am so disappointed in you.”

The woman’s eyes fluttered for a moment, taking in the darkness as it came. The little breathing that she was able to manage began to slow, become shallower. Her body limper with each passing second.

"It seems she has not responded. Would you like for me to find her, Lady Valtieri?" Barirn’s voice called out from the device.

“No no, that is alright. I will find her myself tomorrow.”

The shadowfiend grew stronger in the darkness, but its life was short-lived and soon dispersed into the rest of the room only to be replaced by the warlock’s own hand wrapped tightly around her neck. He held her firmly but allowed her breaths to trickle through so she could feel every word he uttered against her ear, his breath hot and heavy beside her.

“You could have shown me that you were capable of doing anything right, but now you’ll just be another pet to hang on my wall.”

The darkness flooded through her nostrils and reached deep into her soul, transcending flesh and breaking the barrier between life and death. His other fingers reached into his robes and pinched an empty soul shard that now glowed with anticipation for its new prisoner, and he muttered a dark and vile language as the ritual continued.

Everything within Cerusani began to twist and ache as her very source of life broke apart from her while the warlock reeled it out, slowly, slowly, until it screeched when it broke into the air and was dragged into the little shard. With nothing to see, the rushing wind that whirled within the room struck hard against the dulled senses of everyone within it, and the cold of the Nether skittered like static across their flesh.

Cerusani felt every little part of her body as Vynlorin worked his magic upon her. Her long lashes fluttered open to see the darkness of the room while the violet orbs looked as if the woman was in the depths of pure agony. Each passing moment Cerusani’s soul left her and entered the shard within Vynlorin’s grasp until there was nothing of it left inside her. Her throat beneath his hand moved as she swallowed to get out anything but nothing came.

The thoughts. The words. Everything stuck within Cerusani as her eyes fluttered closed once more. Nivathostin shuddered at the sensation of the Twisting Nether breaking through into the room, and the familiar touch of death and lost souls made his stomach churn.

Once the shard had fully sealed the soul within it, it sparked in a brilliant flash of light before falling into a soft purple glow that revealed the suffering soul within it. The anger mingling with the unnatural magics gave rise to Vynlorin’s own nausea, but he ignored it as adrenaline still pulsed within him and forced his hand to backhand the woman who had riled him so.

“You are no longer a student. No longer an acquaintance. You are a worthless animal who will learn her place.

The backhand from Vynlorin sent Cerusani’s slumping body to the stone of the floor. For a long while she laid on the cool stone before she began to come about. Her body convulsed as her skin began to glisten. The first attempt at righting her body failed with her body crumpling to the ground once more.

A retching sound came from her throat even with it being so dry. The dark floor was spewed with the wine she had consumed, and a mixture of her dinner of stew one of the villagers had made for her. The stench just before her nose prompted her to try to get up once more. Her weakened body managed to sit up as she looked around, finally settling on Vynlorin.

“Yo-.”

She had to pause a moment.

“Take everything.”

It made no sense perhaps to the men before her but it did to Cerusani. Shaking hands grasped at the chair trying to pull her to her feet, and after a few moments Cerusani was upon legs that felt like a baby deer.

“Ca-can I go now?” The view of the woman now was scant but a memory of the woman who had walked into the room with confidence.

Vynlorin stepped through the darkness, pushing the chair with his foot so he could take another step closer. That wicked hand rushed to the back of Cerusani’s neck to slam her head down against the table like a prisoner beneath his grip.

“You will address me properly.”

While keeping her head steady with one hand, the warlock returned the filled shard to its place in his robes before flicking that wrist to spark the torches alive again. The darkness fled with the flames so that Cerusani could see her captor looming above her.

Cerusani felt the impact of the wooden table against her face. Once more her stomach began to retch but there was no longer anything to give. Her body radiated with shivers as she looked up to the imposing man she had goaded into being the demon she knew lived somewhere in him. With the grasp of his hand on the back of her neck it felt as if she was his puppet when the words came out next.

“Ma-may I go now, M-m-master Vynlorin?” It was a struggle as every fiber of Cerusani ached.

Vynlorin kept her there a moment longer as he considered her plea.

“No.”

He responded with the same confidence that she had uttered to him when she damned herself to this fate. “Guards!” he barked, and the two men who had been guarding the outside of the door rushed in. “Take her to the dungeon. I’ll be along shortly.”

Each bulky man gripped an arm and yanked Cerusani with them, seeking to drag her along if her own feet couldn’t keep up. Vynlorin brushed the filth of the woman from his hands and waved Nivathostin to follow along.

Cerusani could not keep up as her feet dragged across the floor.

“Master Vynlorin. I wo-won’t say anything. Pleas-please.”

The words were the last things that left her lips as one of the guards smacked her on the back of her head, and she fell silent while they descended the stairs.

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