One evening, Khorvis and Bishoph arrange a meeting in person. This took place within Dalaran inside Windrunner's Sanctuary. Away from the bustling crowds in a building that belongs to the Apothecary, Khorvis sits and waits for Bishoph to arrive.
Bishoph walks down the streets of Dalaran heading towards the conclave as Horde and Alliance alike rush by, heading to wherever their quest has them to go. Bishoph gives the usual stare and gawk at any passing Allinace he encounters. He makes his way down Windrunner's Sanctuary and approaches the building. Inside, he sees Khorvis sitting at a table waiting for him to arrive. Bishoph walks in. The following conversation is verbatim on what happened:
Khorvis nods as Bishoph enters and takes a seat quietly.
[Khorvis]: Welcome to what may be my temporary office in the field, as we lay siege to the Isles. I do not know what the bloody fel the Apothecaries do be concocting in these beakers, and I do not encourage you to taste any of it.
I will be brief and not wander in my musings, Reaper.
[Bishoph] Very well, High Inquisitor, speak what you must.
[Khorvis]: The Keeper Aureliya do once again be ill. Her strange sickness of mana do be coming out of remission. It wastes her strength, and leaves her barely able to conjure a cantrip. Whatever the fel that do be.
[Bishoph]: Perhaps our involvement with the Nightfallen will train her resolve as time lapses.
[Khorvis]: It do be a thought, and a good one at that. Time is not something the spirits have gifted us.
Bishoph agrees with Khorvis.
[Khorvis]: Have you ever walked through the Archives in the Grim Halls?
[Bishoph]: I find myself wandering them frequently to gather my thoughts. Those who fail to learn their history are doomed to repeat it.
[Khorvis]: Then you must know the terrible task it must be to sort and organize that vast library. So great it do be that I believe the Archivist himself, Pincus, do be lost among the stacks. I pray to the ancestors that he will one day return.
[Bishoph]: I haven't even seen Pincus in person, I'm sure he has gone mad by now?
Khorvis snorts. "If ever he was sane. But do not dwell on the Archivist."
[Khorvis]: The Commander has charged me with discovering a new and proper Keeper of Lore. To document the great crusade that is the Mandate.
[Bishoph]: Indeed it is, I wear the banner of the Grim with great pride. Our story must be preserved for future generations.
Khorvis nods at Bishoph.
[Khorvis]: It do be one thing to mold adult fighters of our age. It do be another task entirely to train the next generation of warriors.
[Bishoph]: that is why the Grim Halls must be greatly influenced on ALL Grim, no matter if they are Aspirants or even Awatu himself. We must never forget our calling as Grim.
Khorvis pushes forward a ream of paper and a thin writing pen. Beside it is an inkwell containing a dark red liquid that seems to catch the light at an odd angle. "Show me your script, Reaper."
Bishoph glances at the paper, recognizing some words here and there. Notices where a signature should be...takes the pen in his hand, dips it into the ink well...and then carefully writes his name..."Bishoph Steele"
Khorvis takes away the page and sets it to the side. Beneath is a blank sheet of paper.
[Bishoph]: my fingers don't exactly hold a pencil well these days, forgive me if its in-eligible.
[Khorvis]: Put your will behind it, Steele. Make the page come alive.
[Bishoph]: I call upon those worthy to witness this incredible event. I command the favor of my Dark Lady, Sylvannas Windrunner..My patrons of the Grim..The balance of the Light, and the Void.. and her lady Aelthalyste.
I swear that this day, I give my being to the duties of Keeper of Lore. I will uphold my said duties, and take my responsibilities with the utmost respect of my superiors instructions.
Suddenly two Banshees appear and provide ambiance to Bishoph's declaration.
Khorvis glances about warily as the specters dance.
[Bishoph]: Henceforth, I command my Will, through the Mandate, that I will uphold my office until I am dead or otherwise removed from office.
Bishoph leans his head back and arms raise wide, The pen lifts from the table...The inkwell trembles violently..
Khorvis nods with solemn agreement and watches the enchantment come to life.
Bishoph glares at the paper with the stare of 10,000 basilisks. The paper catches fire with a bright blue flame, yet the paper does not burn in any way.
Khorvis pulls his mechanical hand away, but feels no heat.
Bishoph whisks away the flames with his hands, the pen explodes into tiny pieces...the inkwell erupts and burns into ash..the ash dissolves before hitting the table..now folds the paper 27 times and then seals it with the seal of the Cult of Forgotten Shadows.
Bishoph hands the paper to Khorvis.
[Bishoph]: it is done.
Bishoph collapses in exhaustion as he grips the chair to remain standing.
Khorvis holds up the paper and seal to the dim light. He does not break it open, but places his trust in the priest's display of power.
[Khorvis]: Take this then, Keeper Bishoph Steele. Your first task will be to file this properly in the Archives.
[Bishoph]: Upon my last breath, break this seal and burn the paper under holy fire.
[Khorvis] This seal will not be broken until that day arrives.
[Khorvis]: Your new rank will be formally announced at the coming gathering, Keeper.
[Bishoph]: I will be in attendence.
[Khorvis]: Zug zug. It does you credit.
The two stand and salute each other and go their separate ways.
The stories and lives of the Grim. ((Roleplaying Stories and In Character Interactions))