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"Her death will be made known, though the details that accompany the news will be a fabrication," he replied with an even tone. "The House Warlock is preparing her corpse for reanimation as we speak. Tomorrow, you will 'assassinate' her and claim the throne with my backing."

Valagh sat quietly in the torchlit chamber, stroking the stark white goatee that grew from his sharply angled chin as was his habit, as he fought to clear his mind of all doubts and distractions.

He unfurled the scroll that the slave had just handed him, gazing over the arcane runes scribed across the parchment sheet. The spell was one of necromancy, designed to halt the decomposition of a corpse for the period of one year. The half-devil hovered over the lifeless body of the deceased matron Jys'yl, chanting the words of the spell, the writing on the scroll vanishing as he spoke the incantation.

Once the spell was completed and the former matron's body preserved, Valagh was free to return his attentions to his other major project. He was going to call forth one of the rulers of the Nine Hells.

The pentagram had been drawn, etched in stone, and laced with powdered platinum. A great magical sword, a holy avenger, the blade of paladins, had been acquired and its former owner was tightly bound (and gagged) to a dark altar that had been desecrated and unhallowed in the name of the dark creature that the warlock prepared to call forth from the depths of the Nine Hells.

Confident that all of his preparations were perfect, he took one final deep breath and proceeded with the summoning.

He picked up the golden chalice beside him, holding it beneath his left wrist as he used one of his razor sharp claws to open a vein. As the cup filled with the half-devil's blood, his naturally accelerated healing closed the wound leaving only a barely noticeable scar. Valagh kneeled down beside the pentagram, pouring the freshly drawn blood into the channels carved into the edge of the pentagram, reopening his wrist twice more to gather enough blood to completely fill it.

Spreading wide his great batlike wings as he channeled his dark eldritch energies into the pentagram and drew upon his inborn ability to call forth his baatezu kin. "Oh great and maleficent Mephistophiles, Archduke of Cania, Lord of the Nine, I summon thee to this mortal realm! Come forth, Father!"

A deep rumbling reverberated within the walls of the chamber as the temperature inside became frigid cold. A smoky cloud began to form within the symbol etched into the floor, lined with platinum and filled with blood, coalescing into the form of a great pit fiend. "What manner of foolishness is this?" the summoned devil asked with a snort as he tested the binding power of the pentagram.

Valagh hoisted the holy blade over the captive paladin and removed the gag, the ineffable symbol of good searing the cambion's diabolic flesh as he did so, and plunged it into the heart of its previous wielder. "I offer the soul of this champion of good as compensation for this disgrace, mighty Mephistophiles."

A wicked grin spread across the face of the Archdevil's aspect."Your offering is acceptable, mortal. What business have you with me?"

"I wish to claim my birthright!", exclaimed the warlock. "I desire the power of hellfire!"

"So, you want the power of my hellfire? What are you willing to give up to attain it?"

"I give of my wisdom and experiences. I shall forfeit a share of the knowledge gained from my training as a warlock."

A cruel grin crossed the visage of the Archdevil's aspect. "Very well, half-breed. Let the hellfire consume you, and you shall be reborn of and with the power of these flames!"

A column of white hot flames, born of the Nine Hells themselves erupted around the warlock, searing the flesh from his body. Even his bones were consumed, and from the ashes he was reformed with the power of hellfire coursing through his veins along with the endless font of eldritch power that he had possessed since birth.

/At least he's given me the liberty of choosing when to stage the murder of the former Matron/, Chalthara thought -- not glumly, but certainly with some measure of detachment. Even if she wasn't in full control, she had all the glories that came with the station. In a perfect world, she would get the power too...but she knew that she could not expect that much. The gods, from Lady Lolth to even Helm and all the champions of order in the world, never gifted anyone with a perfect and predictable life.

"A pleasant evening to you as well, Master Veldrin," she replied politely, taking due note of his sarcasm.

[NPC Gate Guard]The guard on duty levitated down from the watchtower as she noticed the visitor arrive. "Greetings," she said, her voice hard as steel. "Who are you, and what business do you have with the Second House?"

[NPC Gate Guard]The guard considered Malag's words for a moment before responding. "I see...in that case, I shall see if anyone is available," she said as she called for a messenger. She whispered something into his ear, and he ran off at top speed.

Several minutes later, the messenger returned and relayed his findings to the guard. "It would appear that our Matron has retired to her chambers and does not wish to see anyone at the moment. I have also been informed that the nobles of the house are all either away or currently occupied at the moment. If you care to wait for one of them to arrive, I can show you to the parlor."

((It is implied that we're all speaking drow when posting IC. We just type in English so that everyone can actually read it without having to break out the translator. No worries, though...the guard understands Common. mrgreen ))

((*Begins gnawing on the slave's bones as he's not been given food or water in a week*))

((It's only been four days...sorry, but I've been busy.))

((I know, I was just being silly. Didn't mean to rush you... sweatdrop ))

Malag followed the guard's instructions, if a bit apprehensively. His weapons were all family heirlooms, and he was loath to let them out of his sight for even a moment. However, he obeyed, and the door opened before him. He stayed close to the servant as well; he was currently ill-prepared to deal with any sort of trap at the moment.

He admired the decorations that the house had been adorned with: He had rarely seen such finery, as he spent the majority of his time in taverns, gutters, and sewers. The little time he did spend indoors was typically messy, painful, and short. When they arrived at the guest chamber Malag waited until the guard had departed before examining the room. His skilled eye did not detect any obvious traps, but this didn't mean there weren't any. He gestured to the floor, and the slave sat down, eyeing the food hungrily. Malag stayed cautious just in case. He cast a pinch of Gow'elgcahl over the food, and the powder hovered above it for a moment before turning light blue, indicating that the food was safe to eat. He waved the dust away, and quickly took a bit of cheese and placed it atop the bread, taking a bite of the two together. It was never polite to visit on an empty stomach: Hunger made one's conversation uninteresting and linear.

Stomach sated for the moment, he proceeded to the wash bin where he examined his reflection: He looked fine, but women had a tendancy to pick out the slightest faults, so he scrubbed his face quickly, ensuring that he looked as tidy as possible. He also changed his leather eyepatch out for his more formal one, emblazoned with an arachnid insignia with silver trim. Satisfied that he looked suitable, he seated himself on the luxurious couch provided. He flicked the slave a bit of cheese and bread, as he hadn't eaten in a few days it was important that the man could remain standing long enough to be posed. The slave eyed it for a moment, then picked it up slowly and began to eat. Malag smirked slightly; a prize he was, this one. He had manners, rarely fought back, and was healthy and strong; it was almost a pity what Malage had in store for him. However, pity did not become Malag, and this man might well give him the final bump he needed, in case the relic was unsatisfactory. He grinned confidently, and awaited the arrival of a lord, or perhaps the Matron herself, if luck was with him today...

((Lol, true dat. He's in for a biiiig surpise... I can't wait to get started! Sorry I've been so impatient recently; I have altogether too much time on my hands, XD.))