In Search of Answers...The Apokolipz had wandered aimlessly around Neriak and Nektulos Forest for days, his mind plagued with the memories that still haunted him; the memories of another man, Vladdik. To others, he seemd an aging old necromancer, befuddled and lost in converstions within his own insanity. Every so often, he would pause midstep, his cold stare growing blank, only to blink several minutes later and continue walking, scowling at his skeletal servant. His clothing and hygene abviously suffered from this state of mind, his hair becomming matted and worn, his leather and metal armor dirty with filth and dried blood from whatever poor soul crossed his path, saying the wrong thing. For, even though his mind was clouded, he was still... The Apokolipz.
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Krizin J`Narus's red eyes spied the shadowed form, as it approached down the tunnels in Neriak's Third Gate. At first, the well trained guard took nothing more than basic note of it, content to continue his rounds and keep any treehuggers out of the depths of Neriak. But, as the form grew closer, his Teir'Dal eyes noted the shadowy whips that clung to the form, and his internal alarms went off. Yes, he knew the necromancer well enough, after seeing him for several days now. Well enough to move out of his path.
The Apokolipz strode by the shadowknight guard, his cold ice blue stare fixed before him, an expression of determination rarely seen on his gaunt features as of late. His bone white hair hanging from his head hung in matted knots over parts of his face and down his back. The claws extending from his off hand flickered in the dim lighting of nearby magical glyphs of warding on the cave walls, the metal pronged walking staff thumping solidly with each step he took. The metal-scaled leggings and magical leathers he wore were crusted with grime and blood. A short distance behind followed his undead minion, a servant of darkness, old and rusted weapons in its boney grip; it glared at the guard briefly as they passed with its green glowing orbs, which lay in empty sockets.
Krizen only nodded to the necromancer, having had to clean up the remains of the last poor soul to cross him only the night before. This time, though, he knew that the aged necromancer had a purpose.
As the Apokolipz stormed through the gates, he took a different turn. Rather than heading to the Lodge of the Dead, his usual destination in this area of the city, he went in the opposite direction, his path bringing him through the door to the rogues' guild, the Ebon Mask. As he walked through the halls, he was approached by a young rogue.
"Well, wha' 'ave we 'ere?" came the boy's voice as he slipped from the shadows to block the necromancer's path. "Ya look like one o' us, but..." his eyes fell on the skeletal guard following behind, "..you aint, is ya?"
The Apokolipz stopped, his cold stare peircing through the young rogue through the veil of matted hair. His minion immediately stepped up to attack, but paused at a slight motion from its Master. "...move, boy.." came the whispered voice from his thin lips.
The young footpad backed against the wall, leaving the hallway open to pass. The look in his eyes showing all the Apokolipz needed to know.
The necromancer continued past, heading into the inner sanctem of the Mask's stronghold. Within the shadowed meeting hall, several other rogues, assassins, and spies were visible. One motioned to him, and turned to enter a side room as the Apokolipz followed.
The skeletal slave closed the door. The necromancer stood there, shadows clinging to his armor, his cold gaze staring into the master assassin before him.
"Eolorn J`Axx, at dosst service," the elder rogue master introduced himself. His clean cut looks and slick attitude added a sly edge to his ettquette.
The Apokolipz nodded.
Eolorn's red eyes shifted slightly. He had dealt with all types in his line of work. That this necromancer was here meant he had bussiness, and he fit the discription of the man seeking his audience last night. After a moment of silence, he pressed the issue. "So, dos doerrus ulu ussa lac'nau..?" his question open ended.
The Apokolipz didn't respond; he didn't even acknoledge the question.
Remembering what his servant had told him of the man, Eolorn shook his head slightly, and dropped ettequette. "What xun dos want?"
The Apokolipz blinked, his ice blue eyes watering. His whispered voice answered through thin lips, the muscles under the thin skin of his face visibly moving, "...I have come to hire your guild for a job..." The sound was a hiss.
Yes, all kinds... Eolorn J'Axx nodded. "Alright, what job?" He was finally getting down to business. "Usstan need a list of details, who, what, where, when, and after looking into it, dorn decide whether to do it and reach you with ussta decision."
Several seconds later, the Apokolipz blinked again. "... I must find Nanarie..." he hissed, and then continued with whatever details he could provide, his speech steady and slow, as if done through concentrated effort. After the meeting was finished, he left the Ebon Mask's halls the same ay he entered, his steps determined and strong.
Several moments later, the Apokolipz stumbled into the private room of the Maiden's Fancey, obviously in some distress. Mare X`Lottl and Spice rushed to his side, but paused as the necromancer's undead servant rushed to his Master's aid. The necromancer leaned on the skeleton's frame and made his way to his usual chair in the corner, Mare following as Spice went to retrieve a bottle of elven blood wine kept specifically for this man.
"M'Lord," came Mare's worried voice, her silky tones wrought with worry. "Are you alright?" Her slight hands wrapped in worry against her tender bossom.
The Apokolipz only grunted in response, leaning onto the table.
The troll bouncer woman brought the bottle of wine to his table, placing it onto the table before him along with a clean wine glass.
The necromancer took hold of the already unstoppered bottle and drank deeply from it, forgoing the glass.
"Cummon, now, gurl," Spice commanded, speaking to Mare. "Leevz himz alone."