As you exit the library, a man of nobility steps around the corner, tall, and bearing for you a vicious smile. His skin gives the impression of tanned ivory, and his hair carries an impossible prysmatic gleam. Not quite human then. “So,” he says to no one in particular as he settles himself to lounge back against one of the buildings columns, before the stair. “It seems you have received the bad news.”
You notice, as he waits for you to respond, that Zeffirien has grown even more arrogant in the time you have left him to his “studies”. though he wears only simple scholars robes, you notice slashes of red and black in it—a sash here, a brooch there, and an uncharacteristic longsword tucked behind his hip. The sword has gold wiring around the grip and an emerald the size of half a fist, on the pommel—it’s almost as ostentatious as Zrill—and for some reason, more solid than the rest of him.
Truth be told, The apprenticeship with Ramos Kevoril, a 10th level Ur-priest and upper ranking member of the cults of the dragon below, did not go well.
Zeff was able to badger him into taking him on, but only because Ramos is as afraid of Zeffirians powers as any sane person should have been afraid of Ramos. Not to mention the fact that Zeffirian is one of the few who could infiltrate far enough to successfully reveal and convince members of the cult of the truth that Ramos does not actually worship the dragon bellow.—No that would be disastrous—which is exactly why so many assassins were employed to dispose of him on his 3rd day of training.
Zeffeirian on the other hand did not take kindly, and though he suffered it, the second attempt on the seventh day was enough to leave him fuming.
He learned faster just listening on Ramos’ surface thoughts, as he practiced his art, anyways…
I suppose it makes sense that he would have known Something about the planes, but this much? so familiar, so…“I was hoping I actually wouldn’t have to go back there. But it seems I will.”
At least Ramos hasn’t reached his conclusions yet.