SUFFERING AWAITS!

Veigar had always been something of a wanderer. Yes, he would always return to his hidden home eventually, but the self-declared Master of Evil could never stay still for too long. Why stay put and start feeling caged, when there was evil to be wrought and trouble to find? Or cause…

So it is that Veigar locates one of the many hidden gates he’s discovered, ignoring the sense of familiarity about them, and watches as the swirling yellow and gold twists and fades into purple and black at his approach. Another thing he would unravel the secrets of, in time. Veigar takes pause to adjust his hat, before he steps through.

Word spread of the tiny sorcerer quickly; within mere hours, all of Nerimazeth knew about their god’s diminutive ‘guest’ and the order to observe him closely. As such, when Veigar approached one of the acolytes, she didn’t appear particularly fazed. His question, however, was a touch surprising. “This?” She turned to face him, holding the book aloft. Viewed from the front, it was revealed that the woman’s left arm was strangely missing... “It is a text pertaining to death of the old empire, revised of course. Many such stories exist, but they are all slanderous and biased against our god. Lord Xerath has had his scribes document the true story based on his own experience. Truly, a fascinating read...”

"Biased, hm?" Veigar squints in a manner that could be taken as simple reflection, though truth be told it was suspicion that the Yordle held. Biased was one thing, lies were another. Veigar cared little for the moral conundrum this posed, finding his interest held more by the methods of manipulation at hand. These followers of Xerath were idiots, the lot of them! How amusing. Seemingly sacrificing body for this false god's teachings, Veigar found it laughable. But he'd keep that to himself for now.

Veigar had always been something of a wanderer. Yes, he would always return to his hidden home eventually, but the self-declared Master of Evil could never stay still for too long. Why stay put and start feeling caged, when there was evil to be wrought and trouble to find? Or cause…

So it is that Veigar locates one of the many hidden gates he’s discovered, ignoring the sense of familiarity about them, and watches as the swirling yellow and gold twists and fades into purple and black at his approach. Another thing he would unravel the secrets of, in time. Veigar takes pause to adjust his hat, before he steps through.

“Indeed. I shall look forward to our... Exchange of knowledge.” For the briefest of moments, Xerath recalled his days as a mortal; the days in which he and Azir would spend hours in libraries together teaching each other and learning from one-another. The Magus never imagined he would ever partake in any such thing again, but he found the memory more irritating than anything else. That was lifetimes ago, and Veigar was certainly no friend... Xerath would set about his own business, but quietly had word spread throughout Nerimazeth that Veigar was to be discretely monitored. Xerath’s acolytes, human and transformed alike, would be sure to keep watch on the yordle wherever he went, but never made any effort to directly interfere with him unless given good reason to... Beyond that, many seemed enveloped in tasks set before them by their god; from transporting vast quantities of ominous black stone to studying arcane texts and rituals. It would certainly seem as though Veigar was not Xerath’s only pupil.

For the most part, Veigar would seem to mind his own business. Wandering, not saying much to anyone, simply paying attention to his surroundings. He had intended to poke where he didn't belong, at least initially, yet it hadn't taken him long to realize that may not be an option just yet.

No, this was a long game. However frustrating that was, he had no choice but to be patient or else cause a problem he didn't really want to deal with. Not that blasting these ignoramuses into the furthest reaches of space wouldn't be as easy as casting a portal spell, but what a waste of available knowledge that would be. Records were hardly as good as firsthand knowledge.

The black stone, however, did intrigue Veigar. As did the studying. Maybe he could learn a thing or two early...

Veigar had always been something of a wanderer. Yes, he would always return to his hidden home eventually, but the self-declared Master of Evil could never stay still for too long. Why stay put and start feeling caged, when there was evil to be wrought and trouble to find? Or cause…

So it is that Veigar locates one of the many hidden gates he’s discovered, ignoring the sense of familiarity about them, and watches as the swirling yellow and gold twists and fades into purple and black at his approach. Another thing he would unravel the secrets of, in time. Veigar takes pause to adjust his hat, before he steps through.

Xerath nearly scoffed at the idea presented to him. Peers? Did this yordle truly think himself an equal to a god? Even if Bandle magics were beyond the Magus’s ability to wield (for now), such presumptuous almost warranted immediate action... Almost. No, Veigar had an ego, and that would be a means through which he could be controlled, at least for now. “I have many pressing matters that demand my attention... Today, they shall take precedent. Tomorrow, we shall begin our exchange of knowledge.” That would also give Xerath time to prepare a few things... “You may reside here in the temple for the time-being. There is a space on the upper levels where you may rest... Though the beds are not designed to accommodate one of your stature.”

"Very well." Veigar hums, deciding to accept this much. After all, a day away from Xerath while remaining in this place was a day to explore and uncover more information. It was a day to figure out exactly what this Xerath character is all about, and figure out how to twist things further into Veigar's own favor.

A day to figure out how to make his own lies believable. He didn't want to lose this opportunity.

Veigar had always been something of a wanderer. Yes, he would always return to his hidden home eventually, but the self-declared Master of Evil could never stay still for too long. Why stay put and start feeling caged, when there was evil to be wrought and trouble to find? Or cause…

So it is that Veigar locates one of the many hidden gates he’s discovered, ignoring the sense of familiarity about them, and watches as the swirling yellow and gold twists and fades into purple and black at his approach. Another thing he would unravel the secrets of, in time. Veigar takes pause to adjust his hat, before he steps through.

Xerath thought he sensed a moment of hesitation, though again, it was hard to say for sure thanks to the yordle’s clever masking of his face. Perhaps he was lying or exaggerating, but on the off chance that he wasn’t... Another realm possessing magics that even the Magus Ascended could not wield was certainly a matter of interest. Because, if it WAS a lie, it wouldn’t take long to be exposed as such. “...Very-well. In exchange for the secrets of this other realm, I shall allow you to study my magic; in-so-far as you are able to comprehend, at least.” Xerath still wasn’t keen on sharing too much, not fully knowing what Veigar’s true end-goal was, but it didn’t matter; the yordle may be more powerful than most, but even if he learned to wield such raw sorcery effectively, none could rival Xerath own mastery of magic. After-all, how much mana could such a tiny form possibly contain, compared to a being comprised of it?

"I'm certain my comprehensive skills will surprise you." Veigar remarks. He wonders just how long he'll be able to keep up this ruse, before the fact he can't wield Yordle magic in the same manner as others can will inevitably come to light. Veigar is playing a dangerous game, and he knows it, but in turn.... Well, he learned a long time ago to always have an escape plan. And then an escape plan for that escape plan. Not that he liked to flee, but he would rather take the coward's option than risk death or entrapment.

Veigar had always been something of a wanderer. Yes, he would always return to his hidden home eventually, but the self-declared Master of Evil could never stay still for too long. Why stay put and start feeling caged, when there was evil to be wrought and trouble to find? Or cause…

So it is that Veigar locates one of the many hidden gates he’s discovered, ignoring the sense of familiarity about them, and watches as the swirling yellow and gold twists and fades into purple and black at his approach. Another thing he would unravel the secrets of, in time. Veigar takes pause to adjust his hat, before he steps through.

Ordinarily, Xerath would be able to gauge one’s thoughts, at least to some degree, by their expressions. The face was a mirror into one’s thoughts for those who knew not how to hide their emotions, but Veigar... Veigar’s was shrouded in what appeared to be a veil of darkness, leaving only eyes lit with power to stare back. In that sense, they were similar: neither party would be using expressions to read the other... That said, as Veigar listed off possibilities, the Magus considered them each in turn. Necromancy? More troublesome than it was worth; the Magus had had more than his fill of the dead coming back to life. ‘Corruptive magics’ was rather vague, though his own ability to transform living creatures was more than enough. Celestial power... That was, admittedly, something that Xerath had equal parts interest in and scorn for. Still, could Veigar really know starbound secrets even he did not? It seemed unlikely... But that last one caught the Magus’s attention. Yordle magics... Indeed, while Xerath was confident in his knowledge of this world’s inner-workings, yordles were said to inhabit another realm entirely; one with its own rules and peculiar energies. “...It is said that yordles originate from another plain of existence, and as such wield spellcrafts foreign to this world. Tell me: is that true?”

Is that true? Veigar has to take a moment to recall, though it's only a second or two. He's heard of Bandle City, it sounds so familiar, he can almost picture the place, but.. he can't recall having ever been there. It's something to do with the gates that corrupt when he tries to open them, he's certain of it. He's going to have to repeat rumors and hope that they're true. Fake it 'til you make it, right?

Veigar had always been something of a wanderer. Yes, he would always return to his hidden home eventually, but the self-declared Master of Evil could never stay still for too long. Why stay put and start feeling caged, when there was evil to be wrought and trouble to find? Or cause…

So it is that Veigar locates one of the many hidden gates he’s discovered, ignoring the sense of familiarity about them, and watches as the swirling yellow and gold twists and fades into purple and black at his approach. Another thing he would unravel the secrets of, in time. Veigar takes pause to adjust his hat, before he steps through.

In all fairness, Veigar’s ruse wasn’t awful... But the former Grand Magus of Shurima knew all-too-well the tactics being employed. He’d once have to stroke the egos of the royal court, including that of the emperor himself, with all manner of flattery to make them do as he pleased. He knew such tactics well, even if the Magus hadn’t needed to rely on them in ages. However... Perhaps they could serve him here. Xerath watched Veigar’s display, and certainly, the casual demonstration of Celestial magic was nothing to dismiss outright... But as one reborn in the power of the Sun itself, he almost found such boasts in his presence laughable. Regardless, Veigar was right about one thing: there WERE opportunities to learn here... Especially if the yordle was eager to learn. In response, Xerath held out his hand, and formed within it a sphere of raw, pulsating mana: the rawest form of magic made manifest. “You think you know power, yordle? I AM power!” Suddenly, the mana in his hand transformed into a bight, blue flame. “I see the forces that hold the universe together... I know secrets of magic that would break lesser minds.” Xerath dismissed the flame, before continuing. “However... I acknowledge that your magic IS impressive. For that alone, I am willing to humor your request. If you can prove that you possess knowledge that even I do not, then I shall aid you in your quest.”

"Then you and I are alike in that manner. I know much that mortal beings would crumble beneath." Veigar hums, pretending to not be impressed by Xerath's display of power. Yes, the raw mana was impressive, but Veigar had seen mind-breaking power and walked away in one piece. At least… He thinks so. That's how he remembers it. He knows Xerath's boasts sound exactly like what Veigar tells everyone else.

He has to bite his tongue to prevent himself from mocking Xerath. The last thing he wants is to ruin this opportunity to learn more. And if Xerath is as powerful as he claims… Well, best to avoid the effort of a fight.

But to prove he knows something Xerath does not? Hard to do, when he doesn't know what Xerath knows…. Veigar narrows his eyes in thought. Something clicks in the back of his mind. He is a Yordle. Yordles inherently know a magic no other being does, don't they? It's… hard to recall. Veigar thinks so, though.