Scene #2511:

Owner	Pose
Faruja	In one of the many offices of the heart of the Glabados Religion, Mullonde's Grand Cathedral, awaits the silk-and-armor clad figure of Cletienne Duroi. The young sits before a broad oak desk, imported from one of the many Earths, and sips a goblet of fine red wine. Crosses and finery alike adorn this office, only barely acceptable in the eyes of some of the more humble clergymen that work in this massive shrine to Ajora. Whatever his love for luxury, the silver-tongued mage is well regarded, and thus it is that he awaits his compatriot and potential fellow conspirator. He'd sent a letter to some very interesting candidates with vague terms and promises of reward, just in case some idiot read the letter, or that little Inquisitor-rat started to peer too deeply again down the conspiracy hole. Cletienne smirks at the thought, almost certain that Alexandria or the chance at hanging his enemies will be the death-or-demonization of the man. Lesser Templar stand ready to guide those arriving to Cletienne's office.
Ineryon	Punctuality is a thing for the Valii, which was important, for maintaining diplomatic relations with those who could eventually wind up becoming mutual investors in projects that were often on Ineryon's mind. A disenfranchised, or dethroned member of the nobility, this drow was now only a blue-blood in name-only, and had scant followers from the realm from which he hailed. The reality, however, was that, due to the xenophobic attitudes prevailing within the realm of the dark sylphs, especially amongst the Valosian clan, who'd helped The King of the dark elves to fell Lich, when procuring the Earth Crystal, Ineryon Valos was almost alone as far as any biologically-related allies were concerned; they were primarily still mired in their self-perpetuating cycle of back-stabbing, in an attempt to usurp The King, Astos, so that they themselves might get a chance to seize the Earth Crystal. Most of this was not public knowledge, seeing that with so few dark elves existing beyond the confines of the isle which was magically sealed off, even fewer were present to leak such information, but there was something about Mullonde which was very ancient, from the archaic days-- a force to be reckoned with, that could very easily contend with the bearers of the Elemental Crystals themselves, were such a contingent to emerge. Some of the dustiest, driest pages of parchment, barely anything transcending plant-fiber whose carbon had all but forsaken the pages upon which the darkest enigmas were enshrined, were available /exclusively/ to the most prestigious, or privileged members of the Glabadosian institution. ....And deeper than that, entrenched in the catacombs which were guarded by questionably-tamed behemoths, dragons, and warriors who could enter a berserk state of mind as required, existed texts accessible to the primordial cults which must've inevitably been in some similar language to the common-tongue, which may have predated the actual institutionalization of the Glabadosian establishment, being that most organizations start from shoestring budgets, gradually expanding over the eons, until they become widespread. It was very possible that Kletian(another spelling/pronunciation for the Ivalician name 'Cletienne') and the masterminds of their 'organization' had gotten their clutches on the long-forgotten papers that had inscriptions few people of the modern Ivalician world understood.... at least, those who were strictly human! With this all being conjecture, a narration fast-forwards to things that are actually spoken, in contrast with what might have been 'hinted' at, when various letters were sent to folks(of Ineryon's type?) being invited to meet with the illustrious, and incredibly-powerful users of arcana, or written rhetoric, who went by the name of Kletian!
Ineryon	All those who planned to attend were either capable enough to have a backup plan if the situation turned into a Mexican-Standoff, or, they were liable not to show their full hand to other players, surmising that those likely to take baby-steps could also utilize a poker-face in the event that some verbal back-peddling would turn up being needed, during the interaction. Nobody wanted to jump the gun, and spill all their secrets too soon, did they? For one, Ineryon, with those elven ears, had heard a few rumors, circulating intermittently, yet, more significant was the fact that his actual lifespan stretched backwards, affording him certain memories that would've been unavailable to folks who'd been born only two centuries past, with the most rudimentary recollection of the history that had maturated within the world containing Ivalice, Alexandria, Burmecia, Cleyra, and.... that remote, impermeable island called The Magnes Island... or /something/ along those lines! Drows from Kletian's world were too few and far between to typically get solid, and consistent answers.... undoubtedly, whomever was pulling the strings within Mullonde was privy to information about Ineryon Valos, that the aforementioned dark elf would not have even known to have been within circulation at all. They may not have known his life story, but, if they'd called him to meet with a warlock of formidability such as Kletian, then, this was something of a serious matter, else, Ineryon might've been shuffled around to rendezvous with a nameless peon with a diminutive insight into the unfolding of Alexandria's, and Mullonde's histories! In martial arts, or warfare, there were various types of speed, and perception was the most essential one, for if an individual was fast enough to foresee things coming from a lightyear away, then, it was guaranteed that by the time of arrival, the intended target could easily flank the incoming tide. Most definitely, Ineryon could offer them something-- however, by having baited the dark one to their lair, did this mean they too, had something valuable to the drow, or was it a hoax? Presumably, the answers awaited all curious minds, if they had such patience to persevere until a very near future juncture.... (OOC: Ineryon arrives, and is suspicious that he was 'invited', but, it's evident that Kletian's order have made him aware of how they might stand a good chance at seducing the dark elf)
Faruja	Cletienne, demon or not, is widely regarded as a nice man. Indeed, prior to his fall, he was a true paragon of Ajoran virtues. A husk he may now be, but he still knows how to play at being his former self. When Ineryon enters, the man stands, and gives a broad smile. A step or two, and there is a hand being offered. "Now this is a sight most welcome! Mister Ineryon, I had feared your shadow would ne'er darken my doorstep! Come, sit. Surely you are weary from your long journey. Would you like anything?" He motions to the wine, already poured, and a few foods set out. Cletienne seems eager to greet with smalltalk rather than get down to business. Words and emotions have all the right inflections, but there's something hollow about it all barely on the edge of perception. Something dreadfully wrong. "I trust my subordinates proceeded with care and swiftened your arrival?" The man then sits, not standing on ceremony. That almost smug smile remains.
Ineryon	The question of defining what a 'demon' was, might have involved physiological aspects, as well as cultural ones, emotional ones, and psychological ones, ergo, in some cases, it could be said some humans were more demon than some demons, while some demons were more human than some humans, by some happenstance? One could ask if it was by the prolongation of a 'natural' lifespan that deigned one be called demonic, or that they might have the 'unnatural' powers which allowed them to move a mountain, rather than a wide-screen television, single-handedly... or, a big appliance, versus a small one, or, a small one versus a microscopic one. More precisely, being aligned with the likes of the Lucavi demons, an explicit breed that were legendary scourges who infested the world of Ivalice, may have been enough of a qualification to say that Kletian was guilty by association, if a link /could/ be established between the sorcerer, and the spawn of sin itself! Baron Ineryon Valos was not so intrigued in ascertaining where the 'dividing line' should have been placed, which, often was positioned in an arbitrary manner, based off of views that were painted by folk who were unaware of the sociological biases that compelled some to gravitate towards splurging at the expense of this person, rather than shoulder a greater burden to the benefit of their neighbor. This seemed like a fruitless pursuit, which only served the function of bolstering the reassurances that would ordinarily keep would-be self-martyring types from spiraling into fits of despair, in turn, robbing them of all willpower, or inclination to take action; once one acknowledged their misdeeds, and their co-dependence as frailties, if they set a standard, then they'd have few choices but to engage in greater mettle of loathing directed at themselves, for submitting to their vices, or push a behemoth up a hill, in an attempt to resist every urge, as a medium of defying decadence that never stops plaguing the mind! It is said, often, that one must pick their battles, and Ineryon picks the ones with at least some measure of quantitative value, since subjective matters tend to have a circular pattern, if one remains undaunted, regardless of any siege that seeks to undermine one's every labor, designed to procure profit for oneself; that's his view, in any event. Was Kletian a demon? Was Kletian a man? Was Kletian a god? Was Kletian a total pansy, both magically and muscularly? THOSE things could be analyzed, provided one negated to include any mortal standards which might hinder progress in determining if Ineryon had to be cautious when treading here.... and it was the belief of the drow that the wizard before him was competent, and sane enough to share civil discourse, irreverent of Kletian's propensity towards any philanthropic persuasions, such as offering community-service, free of charge, on any spare weekends that the warlock might have availed to him.
Ineryon	The hand is studied, and Ineryon shrugs, "I have,... policies about physical touch. No offense to you, yet, transmission of foreign microbes have a higher chance of being probable than not, when physical contact accompanies greetings, or partings. I don't want to insult your intellect by assuming that you beseeched my company, strictly to receive, in exclusive, my adherent obsessiveness towards protocol, while ignoring the economical reasons which we can both assume have played a role in my invitation.... yet, seeing that my questionably-rational anally-retentive spirit led to my upscale standing within my current place of residence, we can both.... agree that if my words house any value that you or those you represent, feel are indeed, of any value, as I assert, then, it may be said that you should enable me to remain loyal to my personal protocols, which factor into every other facet of what we shall refer to as... my recent prosperity?" Ineryon raises a brow, then lowers it, resuming an ultra-nihilistic expression, after which he answers Kletian's query, "They did not impede it. So..... now that you have my attendance, can I jump to the conclusion that you're not interested /exclusively/ in my mining operations, or my systematic methods of managing a budget, but... that there is.... something else you might have heard about me? We're both educated men, I suspect... and circumlocution simply does not do us justice, in the long-term, even if provisional statements and stipulations are necessary, in our verbal proceedings, if we're to articulate ourselves in a manner that harbors any accuracy...."
Faruja	Unfortunately, Clettiene's better days of helping others and generally being an almost stand-up example of a human being are long over. Even that smile seems rote and simply /off/. Mimickry of the worst kind. The hand is withdrawn without insult, even if the demon could still feel something like that. "To the business at hand, then. Perhaps Ser Barich would have been better for this conversation. No matter." "To put the matter plain, we of the Templariate wish to work with you, Mister Ineryon. You seem to have a reputation as something of a historian, at the first. Surely you have heard of our recent troubles with Alexandria? We would like a...less nuanced account of the proceedings than those to be offered by the fair Field Inquisitor. In case of...discrepencies. Even a Godly person such as he may find temptation lurking." He begins. The smaller request first, of course.
Ineryon	Squinting at Kletian, as the sorcerer brings to the surface, something about wanting an adequate quality of documentation, presumably for quality-control purposes, upon the advent of any upcoming incursions where Glabados and Alexandria could end up disagreeing about statistical data; was he to be hired as a third-party independent, to ensure that a more 'objective source' could be made availed, over the course of their upcoming feud? It seemed anomalous that the clergy wouldn't hire an owner of an android, yet, without some sense of selective-importance, as far as personal points of vantage, it could very simply result in having a robot, or android, sincerely devoid of /any/ agenda whatsoever, taking footage of the precise angle where it is positioned, giving no -personal- favor to this view or that, ultimately resulting in the documentation of a harmonious sunset, should the 'action' flock from one area on the battlefield to another. True, heat-sensory technology might encourage the machine to allow the radioactive developments, or entropy, brought about by so much activity, to 'lure' or 'coax' the camera into aiming itself at the war-zone, but, then, what if a giant fireball, or comet were to careen across the sky, diverting the attentions of this ignorant machine, who could have no means to distinguish heat generated by grass on the ground, versus that generated by perspiring bodies(lest zombies or vampires be employed, which would complicate matters further), or burning debris from either of sapient prowess, or orchestrator of all that ever shall be, including the cosmic bodies which may fling themselves in a supposedly haphazard fashion, to and fro. Or.... maybe the templars just didn't like robots, and machines, and would even rather enroll the banner of a dark elf, than a metal monstrosity that has no more fealty to its own maker than whomever might code it, later on, to slay said maker! "I could say that there are others, nearly as equal to the task, but they are hard to come by.... and my only other competitor, Mister Deiceb Valos, is already allied with the Alexandrians, so the -rumor- alleges." Bobbing his head side to side, Ineryon mused, "I don't suppose you all wish for me to assist because, if gossip yields authenticity, in times to come, you'll want to be equipped to fight fire with fire?.... Or maybe, you've resorted to requesting my aid because... heh... I'm the black-sheep of the Valii, and it has been said that I harbor a sort of grudge against my kin's current government?" The nobleman chortles, "....As far as having a grudge, it is true, and, if the Alexandrians have yet again seen fit to merge with those sworn to King Astos, the slayer of Mister Lich.... who, by the by, is said to harbor a certain... Earth Elementally-endowed gem-stone of /considerable/ quality, holed up inside their cavern.... I'd be charitable enough to endorse -THAT- hypothesis, too!" While dark elves did not enjoy melodious sounds, Ineryon's mouthfuls must have been music to Kletian's ears; hopefully the warlock wouldn't become too excited, and mess things up.
Faruja	Cletienne slowly smiles. "Someone outside of the conflict, without ties, is capable...you are what we need, Ser Ineryon." Assistance? He considers. "So you have no attachments to us, and no reason to offer words in Alexandria's favor. I would not be wrong in saying that old alliances may linger, and stones shine surely." Cletienne sounds triumphant here. "Well? You will be compensated of course."
Ineryon	Ineryon nodded his head, remarking, "In an operationalist sense, we could say that, for the time being, I should be able to prove, within most sets of establish standards, that my presence in the upcoming debacle will be one of removal, or fair detachment from it." Shrugging, the man figured he had no other media for being able to rationalize how he could linger directly within the line of sight of the spectacle, while still claiming to be absolved from the ongoings, without getting into some sort of debate on how far from the epicenter of a tapestry, that any respective thread belonging to that tapestry had to be, in order to qualify as being thoroughly exempted from a significant impact on that tapestry, before incrimination of interference could be cited. "I have, at my disposal, reasons to do whatever I feel compelled to do, if I should embrace them, yet, if I should deny them, then I might state that I have zero reasons to offer words in Alexandria's favor. On the other hand...." He looks over his shoulder, silently, then peers back at Kletian, steepling his fingers, "Preemptive toils on your organization's behalf have altered this, in a private respect. Publicly, there is no entity beyond any omniscient individuals who are wary to the fact that you and I are now working in... cahoots." Flattening his lips, with a stern expression denoting seriousness, the drow expatiates, "...Which is to say that if I am to cooperate with the main body that constitutes the ones who govern the organization who you speak for, right now, then, the word 'compensation' is well and good enough for us to understand that we're on the same page, but precise technicalities persuading me to promote your side would necessitate an Earth Elemental Crystal to fall into my clutches, while I yet live, should your organization wish to side-step any unwanted ramifications arising from a reneging, of any sort. Promises are /SO/ much less comforting to anxious minds than guarantees, you see....."
Faruja	Clettiene leans back, visibly pondering. He sips wine, buying time, as nonchalant as can be. "...So you are willing to do it? Good." He states simply enough. Robes shuffle, and he smiles a little. "And we would like to ensure it remains thusly. So try to not speak our names. Make up some convenient excuse if you have to get involved, otherwise, do as you will." "Oh? That little trinket? Ah...difficult to engineer that much, but doable. Alright. For your current services, and services on retainer as benefits both parties, that will be an acceptable price." A tiny little serpent's nod. "Well, that is all I have at this point in time. Any questions on your part?"
Ineryon	Smirking, confident in himself, Lord Valos grunted, "I will not make up any excuse that is untrue, mind you, Mister Kletian. However, if it can be said that when a woman leaves her house everyday, her overall agenda would be, I think, to, in a most vague sense, improve her quality of life, or prolong her lifespan, ergo, she has subsequent tasks such as going to her place of employment, the grocery store, or other places of interest, to facilitate this need. If one were to ask her why she had left her house, that morning, later on, and she wished not to elaborate upon specifics, her answer could be an honest one, if she had mentioned that she wanted a breath of fresh air." Clearing his throat, Ineryon stood from his chair, "...And, since breathing is a vital part of living, there would be no fallacy in failing to declare, in utter totality, every exact thought that went through her mind from the moment she left the door to the moment she returned home, for, it is only by cherry-picking that we can provide a narrative to another, whereby one may only give an accounting that is unavoidably abbreviated. What demarcations one chooses to utilize are inevitably part of being the fraction, and not the whole; needless to say, you are a fraction of the universe, as am I, and even combined, neither of us are yet still the whole, so it is that we must improvise, when rendering an accounting, unto whom it shall be rendered, eh?" ....Being one to take a mild gamble here and there, just to flatter himself, and elevate his opinion of his own importance, Ineryon adds an extraneous comment that is arguably egotistical, however, for a man so invested in his services, perhaps Kletian will be strong-willed enough to turn the other cheek, in the presence of words bearing false-modesty? "....You may disagree, if you wish, however, as I trust I will not hear words that can intelligently refute my annunciations, you'll have to speak to my backside, unless, by some miracle, there is some means by which you unearth an argument worthy of decrying what I have said.... Yes, I have questions, Mister Kletian... I have questions every hour of every day, even so, I do not anticipate that you have the capacity to answer most of them.... Good day, to you. I will keep an eye on a certain Burmecian, too, if I see him, as a courtesy. Formidable in combative situations I hear he is, while I'm still undecided on how well he handles the art of an academic joust, which you, Mister Kletian, seem at least /passingly/ equipped to realize, should it be within your scope, to do!"
Faruja	Clettienne is as unflappable as ever, even when it comes to insults. Both hands splay out, a smile on his face, leaning on platitudes as any good clergyman is wont to do. "Humility is a virtue. No, I cannot refute your words. Curiousity can be a good thing in the Lord's eyes, or so those more learned tell me. Either way, so long as our deal is adhered to, naught is lost." He smirks at the mention of the rat. "I /do/ wonder how the dear Inquisitor will do. Well, or..." One eye closes coy. "Passably." "Go with God, Mister Ineryon Valos."