Let it all out

Log Info

Title: Let it all Out
Emitter: Zeke
Characters: Zeke, Geir, Cryosanthia, Faranmidahn, Sabina, Seldan
Place: A10: Temple of Daeus
Time: Tuesday, April 21, 2020, 2:47 PM
Summary: Geir and Cryosanthia seek out Zeke. The blue-scale sith is busy with patients in the aftermath of the giant ooze attack on the temple grounds. Many died, the survivors suffered severe acid burns and plague infections. Zeke has not slept. Geir visits on Mourner business, to attend to the ones that will soon no longer need Zeke's care. Cryosanthia is one of the plagued, and while she has been acting as Zeke's assistant, she is not doing well. Things have calmed enough they can attempt her treatment. They return to her room, where Zeke fails to dispell the plague, twice. Cryo does manage to capture one of the oozes in a glass jar. Seldan is sent for and Sabina arrives, prompting Geir to leave. The three women discuss the latest events, Merek's insanity, the Ooze at the temple. Zeke and Seldan return, and they attempt to cure Cryosanthia again. The spells don't seem to be working, a second ooze is glassed, and Sabina assists Seldan on his third attempt. This causes a gigantic ooze to erupt from Cryosanthia's head, all struggle to deal with it while she writhes in pain, after which she attacks Seldan. The ooze somehow triggering Salina's buried instructions. The others manage to calm the white-scale sith while Seldan evacuates, and they commiserate. Sabina and Faran are emotionally overwhelmed and while Cryo feels like she should be, she is wrung dry. She tells Zeke that Faran is family now, her younger sister, because of all they've both been through together.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A10: Temple of Daeus *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The temple of the Sun Lord glitters golden beneath the same. Rather than walls, the majority of the temple is composed of what appears at first blush to be a raised round platform made of one of the largest slabs of marble likely in existence. Columns rise into the air as if to hold some massive ceiling, though instead of a normal ceiling, one finds the deep blue sky, studded by a disconcertingly close canopy of bright stars. One should not worry, however, as the rain never falls, and the wind never blows on this particular temple, but for a gentle breeze, whatever the weather outside may be.

Despite the austerity of the columns, warmth suffuses the grounds. A grand, marble statue of the Shining Knight stands a the center, a hand outstretched in benediction. Beside Him, the statue of Althea, their hands clasped in love. The central position of the temple to the others gives view to all of their children, and the two look upon one another with the solemnity of love that has been the center of so many tales and legends.

Masterfully designed mana lamps provide further soft, golden lightning where needed, their pedestals carved in the form of the Dragons of Light, over which Daeus is said to have dominion in His form of Draco Solis. Majesty, justice, and welcome suffuse the temple grounds. Around the central temple are a series of smaller buildings, each with a simple function and form. One houses the sacred book depicting some of the earliest known translations of the Laws of Light, which pilgrims from near and far come to visit. Another houses the well-appointed quarters of the Sunguards, and among all the ground bristle the Sunblades.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing, in Order  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cryosanthia  6'9"     267 Lb     Sith-Makar        Female    A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman.
Geir         5'8"     200 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      A short, copper-scaled Sith-makar.
Zeke         6'8"     239 Lb     Sith-Makar        Male      A blue-scaled sith-makar in white Daeus vestments
Faranmidahn  3'3"     35 Lb      Halfling          Female    Albino Lucht woman in black leather armor with a BIG spider
Seldan       5'11"    187 Lb     Human             Male      Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol.
Sabina       5'4"     130 Lb     Human             Female    Tsuran woman of dark hair and green eyes
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

The temple of Daeus is quite busy, which is in fact not surprising at all given recent events. There's a feast laid out in the main hall, and a spot set aside for the workers both inside and outside the temple to rest. However in spite of the fact that many people have come and gone from the tables of food, there is practically no one in the rest area itself. Too much work to be done, and people are driving themselves hard.

Zeke is certainly one of those people, the blue-scaled sith moves between beds and groups of his fellow clerics. Sometimes talking, sometimes urging someone to a bed or to get food. He knows they'll work themselves too hard if he doesn't do something. His own robes are stained black and gray from his own efforts, and the sith looks tired, but full of that kind of energy that comes from being on the front lines of a battle.

Clad in well-tended, and shiny, armor, the Mourner strides into the house of Daeus fully armed and armoured. Once amid the busy hive of activity, the Sith-makar removes his helm, showing off bright, coppery scales. Several other priests of Vardama follow in behind him. Gesturing with a clawed finger, he guides them to places they appear to be needed most.

Zeke might have missed Geir, were it not for the gentle tug on the blue-scale's robes. "One would have wordss, kin.", the copper-scale says, warmth and humour in his voice. "Allow the Lady's acolytess to assisst the Sun God's own, as before, and in future."

Cryosanthia is seeking Zeke out. She has been helping, but the last few days have been draining for her. The casual cantrips she casts almost unconsiously to improve her day have become forbidden. No more little musical stings when she's bored or enters a room, no messaging when she wants to get someone down the hall and doesn't feel like shouting. It's not major, but it's one more thing she has to concentrate on avoiding, another thing lost. It's the little things, a lot harder to bear than the big things, and she's got what feels like a mountain of those as well. At least her gloves still work. So she's been taking food, attempting to cheer up patients, moving laundry and often taking breaks in her room.

She looks worn, and tired, and old. Her robes are clean, immaculate, but that's pretty easy to accomplish when they are magic. The palescale sith comes up behind the two, "Geir! Oh Geir. I have missed reconnecting with everyone. Hello. Peace on your Nest."

She reaches out to touch Zeke, and doesn't, and puts her hand back down. "Zeke, you're looking terrible."

Zeke startles slightly at the sudden and unexpected tug on his sleeve, but Geir who knows him well might recognize that there's less fear and more habit in the gesture than there usually is. Perhpas its merely that he is tired. He wags his tail at the sight of Geir, clearly overjoyed to see the copper-scaled sith. "Geir!" His voice confirms it, the softness, the pleasure, and... perhaps a touch of embarassment in his scent? Odd but easily forgettable. Yet it grows as Cryosanthia joins them and he nods in seeeming agreement with her words. "Peasssce on your nesssst Geir. Thisss one hass not had a chance to ressst yet. Come Geir, thisss one would ssshare wordss with you. It hasss been too long, too long."

Zeke quietly urges Geir toward the resting area, and incidentally toward the food as well. A soft grumble from Zeke's stomach indicates that the sith hasn't eaten in some time either, but he seems unaware of the noise as he herds the other two sith.

"Peace on your nessts.", the copper-scale intones.

His eyes take in Cryosanthia's form, a curious expression forming as it is obvious something different, something he can't yet put a finger on. He will move along to the rest area and the aforementioned food. "It has been ssome time, yes, ssince One has sseen either of you. Tidingss are not good. One would ssay the city, Am'shere, even the world itsself is besset with trouble." Geir chuckles dryly. "Ssuch as it has alwayss been, yes?"

His eyes look to Cryosanthia, and the brow ridges raise up. "Hmmm. If one is not misstaken, you have ssomehow aged many yearss in a short period of time." He looks to Zeke then. "One has heard rumour. Of a wedding? And you do look quite tired, Zeke. One cannot aid others if one works themselves to death. The Deathdragon would be most disspleassed."

Cryosanthia is aware of that need also. She has diverted to load up a platter with meats, slices of turkey breast and gravy, as well as slices of fruit. She's about to grab a pitcher of water when she hesitates and grabs one of juice instead. The copper-sith's assessment is accurate. Cryo is clearly taller, more muscular, with a sweeping set of horns. The lingering youngling features she had have been replaced with heavier scale-plate. Even her tattoos appear to have vanished, she has patterns in pale blue scales all over now. Her movements have a contained energy now, instead of extravagent flamboyance, a certain powerful grace.

Taking the platter and drink, she catches up. A wane smile on her face, "Oh, the years were regular length but they were disconnected from here, and I don't remember, so it was a short time for everyone but it was the whole time for me. There is a lot to tell."

She processes some of the other information and her voice catches, "Am'shere? Has something happened in Am'shere, an Ice Tower?"

Choosing to take a seat rather than get himself the food that he seems to also need Zeke settles onto a stool and nods at Geir's words. "Indeed thessse are trying timesss. Thisss one hasss lived through many thingsss, but thessse dayss... They almossst make one long for the dayss of youth at timesss." Which is perhaps saying something given what is known of Zeke's youth. The scent of embarassment rolls off of Zeke, and he ducks his head, eyes flickering between Geir and Cryosanthia. Finally they lower. "Cryosssanthia hasss chossen thisss one, thisss iss true. Thisss one wasss meaning to tell you..." His eyes look up at Cryosanthia, at her words of concern and a chill rolls down his spine.

"No, this one meanss the Teacher. Like a horde of younglingss, he worries at the Silver Queen. Younglingss that bite. One knowss not of an Iccce Tower." The copper-scale sets his helm down upon a stool, and stands at ease. To Cryosanthia, he nods, "One has heard that thiss tower, has time that passes more quickly than here. You lived a life there?"

Geir looks to Zeke, shifting closer to the blue-scale. "We were different people in the dayss of our youth, yes?" There's a moment there, reflected in the copper-scales eyes, a haunting hint of the past. "One thinkss. One thinkss that the now is better than the passt. You have changed. Sso much. Grown more into the persson you sshould have been from the beginning."

Cryosanthia hooks a stool with her tail and drags it over. She sits beside Zeke, no closer than anyone else would, giving him the space he needs. The platter is balanced on her knees, she lifts a piece of meat to carefully hold near his mouth, "Eat thisss. You need."

She is hanging on Geir's words, watching. Steeling herself for more bad news. It's been wave upon wave hitting. A very guilty part of her longs for the predictable, routine, agony of the Tower. Her scents are all sorts of messed up, but she presently smells both sickly, and comfortingly strong. "Zeke hass chosssen thiss one alsso. Thiss is true too. Sssoon we would have a witnesssing. Ssso much interferress."

The white-scale nods, "A human lifetime, yes. I feel the yearsss, I know I have lived them. They were not stolen. They may have been lean but I returned with sssome ssense of satissfaction, so these scaless were earned."

"This one agrees, Zeke growss more striking by the day."

It seems it is entirely possible for Zeke to grow /more/ embarrassed. It rolls off of him in little waves. He blinks at the offered food held in hand and after a moment hesitantly plucks it from Cryosanthia's fingers when a low rumble from his stomach gives away that he is hungry. A soft puff of air leaves him and he looks away from the pair in pure unadulterated embarassment. "Thisss one hassss been... trying." It's caught words, heavily laced with the emotion currently roiling through his system.

The copper-scale huffs and chuckles, his expression mirthful. "One wishess one could sshow you the Zeke of old. Dasshing, indeed, seen from the eyes of a youthful Sith." He seems quite pleased with the blue-scales feeling of embarrassment. "This one followed him, one day, running away from home. Perhapss it wass a poor home, perhapss one was rebellious. It wass a lifetime ago." He moves to settle himself on a separate stool, a look of weariness coming over him. His tail curls back and forth behind him, like a great scaled cat's tail. "This one is happy for you both. Perhapss... perhapss jealouss too. But happy. In all the turmoil. Death. Warss. The sicknesss. It is good to ssee that happinesss can be found."

Geir straightens a little on his seat.

"One thinks you two sshould ssave the ceremony for later... but make it official. Have the shamans ssay what needss be said. But celebrate after."

Cryo is quick to have another gravy drenched piece of meat ready for the snapping, and holds it gingerly near Zeke. Her own stomach growls, but she's been avoiding eating for a reason, so it will go unsatiated. "That may be wise. This one would see my Mistress of the Tower defeated, but that could be some time, and after there iss the Teacher. No endss, we must take the celebrationss wherre we must."

The white-scale looks up and meets the copper's eyes. Hers are like hard sapphire gems, little is showing but her body language is ashamed. "Geir, Zeke, at the Sssoldier'ss Defensse, Faran ssaid She might be scrying through any with a snowflake scar, that She might through the plague as well. This one recallss just before She appeared, I was fighting to feel the magic parassite inside me, and something happened. Faran's last words, before Seldan cured her, She used them for revenge."

"We went to the ressearch station, her Nest-Mother, her ssire, their friends, her family's pets and pony, all frozen solid by Her. She may be listening even now, I am infected again. I endanger every place I am, every victim may."

Zeke looks at Geir, and it's a complicated look on the sith-makar's features. Some kind of old longing, embarassment yes, and amusement before he shakes his head. "Memory makesss usss all look better than we are thisss one thinksss." He ducks his head, sighing softly and taking more food from Cryosanthia. "Thisss one can feed onessself." He murmurs quietly, and politely doesn't bring up the reason that Cryosanthia's stomach is growling and he is not enouraging her to eat. The sith knows. Instead he nods to Geir. "There are plansss yet to be made. Thisss one... Would like you to be there Geir."

Uncomfortably Zeke shifts his weight on his stool and he looks at Cryosanthia. "It may be ssso that sshe isss lisstening in, but ssshe can not lissten to all of thossse with sssuch marksss at the sssame time. Sshe can not be every-where at onsce. Thisss one will try to cure you yesss?" He hesitates and then looks at her carefully. "Thisss one hass more disssturbing newsss perhapsss. It ssseemsss that Merek may be consssidering an effort to bring the vampire Kol Demontry back to life. He came into thisss temple lassst night insssissting that he mussst quesstion the creature and... he did sssay that he would do any-thing to ssseek out vengance on the vampire which you helped to ssslay."

Geir eyes Cryosanthia curiously, the growling of stomachs noticeable. But like Zeke, he remains silent on the matter.

"Sshe has frozen ssolid all those who might inform on her? Sshe also sslew Menel, one hears. And.." Here he begins to lose his cool, an acrid smoke escaping his nostrils. "Many were frozen and slain in the Soldier'ss Defensse. The recklesss taking of life... in a hospital... She musst be stopped!" A mailed fist is lifted, and smashed down upon the table beside him, causing things to jump and tumble, a few things smashing upon the ground.

The copper-scale huffs out a breath, an odd gurgling sound coming from his chest. "One would be there. The Deathdragon demandss it. Witnesss... lend a hand..."

"Those ssick with the plague being that which sshe can spy through? That is horrifying, however, it makess sense. It may be how sshe wass able to freeze the Defensse. Beaconss." He lets out a long breath. "We sshould do the mosst sensible thing. One has a cunning plan." Geir stands then and shakes his head. "Abssolutely not. Kol is sstaying dead. If Merek be powerful enough, let him quesstion Kol's sspirit, if it remains. To bring back that which caussed so much misery is the very definition of inssanity."

"WHAT!" Cryosanthia sits bolt upright. Then she grabs for the platter about to leave her thighs. They may be old, but her serving instincts save her and the food and she catches it with a curl that keeps everything on. She's staring at her mate, shaking her head, her pupils have turned from slits to beams, "This one thought... when he offered his offspring, he could do no worse. He is... he is strange even as a softskin, has been growing more disconnected by the days, volatile and lashing out. This one suspects his Black Dragon blood is growing strong, that he is embracing the temptations and sees power as a treasure to be acquired. To wish Kol back alive!"

The white-scale sits, stunned, still shaking her head, "we barely managed, we were so close to failing, one slip he would have been away. To throw all that away, because he was not present to... taunt Kol? Question Kol? Be happy it is dead."

At the mention of Menel, Cryosanthia tucks her feet together, stares at the floor. She exhales slowly, concentrates, says the words. "This one adopted Menel in the tower. He ... was my foundling. His d.... it is hard. Her reach is far and cruel. All help is accepted, this one will send word when things are afoot."

Zeke nods solemnly. It's clear that the thought of Merek disturbs him greatly. "The People have much to fear from one like Merek. Thisss one can no longer abide hisss presscensse. He is /sssick/ in hisss mind, in a way that can not be healed." He shakes his head suddenly, waves away the thoughts of the unwell man from his mind before they can cause him to grow angry again. "You have a plan Geir? Thisss one would hear your wordssss." He swallows harshly, trying not to think about Menel. His body tense.

Geir's eyes widen slightly, and he nods to Cryosanthia. "One seess, now. What life you may have led in the tower. One would join you, in this tassk. One would lend his meager sword and magicss." He chuckles ruefully. "One doess wonder what Kol could tell. What secretss he might hold? But would he sshare ssuch, being freed, perhapss, of her control? One believes it madnesss."

He looks to Zeke and nods, the corners of his lips curling upwards. "One doess have a plan. But one will bid his time before revealing it. Let us ssavour what time we have. Let her... sstew in anticipation." The copperscale winks.

"I entered his name in the records at the Temple of the Death Singing Dragon, so he won't be forgotten Zeke. It... it helped, a little. Silmeria knows." Cryosanthia reaches out to touch him, withdraws her hand again. So she picks up a piece of fruit this time, holding it Zeke, "This one wantss to feed you. So Silmeria, at the temple, if you need to talk, you would not need to explain."

The palescale nods, then shakes her head again, "Merek broke Faran's heart, she thought he was so noble. Something has gone wrong, he is a danger. His recklessness nearly undid us in the sewers. It's ok my cihuaa, he is not here, you do not need to defend me."

She smells comforting, although it's tainted with a sense of illness, "This one wonders if her Ice Demon would have those same answers, without the insanity, and perhaps should be next. Although ... the strange golem ooze in the sewers may still be a danger. One chip at a time."

Cryo raises her head, looking at Zeke and Geir again, nodding slowly, "The Tower was very disciplined. I have the glass jars now Zeke. I have been wondering why I was in such a state when I returned, when it was to be unharmed. I don't know if being cured will be horrible enough to help me remember something, but it was a hope, such that it is."

"What-ever anssswersss he had followed him to the Death-singing Dragonsss doorss. And good ridansce." Zeke accepts the bit of fruit next, shifting in his seat, but not arguing with Cryosanthia on the matter. Nor does he press Geir for answers. Though he does give the copper-scaled sith a searching look as though that might tell him what he is curious to know. He lets out a soft sigh and shakes his head. "Thisss one thinksss that Merek mussst be dealt with at sssome point. Before he becomesss an evil that we mussst dessstroy."

There's a certain harshness in that statement, but Zeke seems truly concerned that this may be an inevitablity. He shifts his scales and rises to his feet. He has eaten little enough in truth, but he has delayed long enough in his mind. "Thisss one thinkss it time then, thisss one would try to cure you Cryosssanthia. If thisss one can not, then thisss one knowsss where Ssseldan isss, and would assk him to come. Thisss one can not eat ssso eassily knowing you are ill."

"One knowss not why Cryosanthia is not eating, but one is saddened.", the copper-scale says, softly. "Death iss a mercy. But Death is not... the end. For ssome." He cants his head ever so slightly. "Glasss jars?", he wonders.

Geir reaches out to pluck a small piece of fruit from the tray that Cryosanthia holds, and pops it into his mouth. He chews quickly and nods. "Deliciouss. Hmm. We musst follow a hard path, but one advises that not everyone or everything is evil. One knows that in timess like these.. it is too eassy for people to become the enemy. One would advise caution in dealing with Merek. The Deathdragon will judge." Geir lets out a slow breath. "One will help with curing Cryosanthia, however, one's magicss are inssufficient."

Cryosanthia rises, bringing the platter and the pitcher of juice. She moves well but there's an instinctive cough as she stands. She'll bring the food to the room. "Well nibble enough Zeke ssso hunger isss not disstracting. Thiss one ... Seldan... the landscape is rougher there. I trusst you. Sseldan sstruggled with curing a War-golem, and failed. His Nest-Mother is on his mind, this one is sure."

"The cure will make me throw up oozes, this one would not accompany it with stomach contents. The glass jars are to capture a few. They need be studied and we have failed many frustrating times. I shall be incapacitated much, Zeke will direct. The oozes can be smashed with clubs, magic is bad... tell me what to do Zeke."

The white-scale sounds less confident as her explanation goes on. Her tail curls behind her, against her legs, she looks at the bed, clearly not anticipating the procedure even if she wants it over.

Zeke leads the way away from the rest area to where he will make the effort to cure Cryosanthia. Then he gently takes the platter and juice from her, setting them aside with a soft look at the female as if to say simply that he could not bear to eat another bite. However hunger gnaws at him, some things are more important. He motions her to the bed. "There are clubs here besside this table Geir, and a bucket of ssssoapy water. Thisss one hasss but two ssspellsss that will work; if they work. Then we mussst try other meansss. Ssseldan, or perhapsss one of the People might be called to cure you." He motions Cryosanthia to the bed.

The copper-scale follows along behind them quietly, not a word said while things are explained. He nods slowly, and reaches for one of the clubs, taking it in both hands and testing its strength. A few creaks are heard, and he smacks the club against his hand. "One knows what musst be done. One has worked many an hour at the Soldier'ss Defensse."

The palescale hesitates, it's not until Zeke waves her at her bed several times that she finally moves there. She settles down on it, turning so she sits with one leg crossed, one hanging down, her tail off to the side. She adjusts her robes. For a moment it seems she's going to cancel them altogether, but they switch to something like the simple gowns the other patients wear. The ones the patients at the Soldier's Defense, wore. It's still on her mind too.

She inhales with a deep breath. "This one is ready, hand me a jar. I'll try to stopper it but you might have to."

She waves at the sideboard where several glass jars with glass stoppers sit, and a much larger one that could hold them all is.

Faranmidahn enters the temple of Daeus anew, her hand resting on the pommel of the longsword at her side. She's been here enough that she isn't necessarly challenged as she drifts beyond the common areas, but is approached by one of the senior acolytes, who relays where Cryosanthia and Zeke are. She gives a curt nod of acknowledgement and turns to make her way there as the little white spider on her shoulder is along for the ride.

Zeke obediantly picks up one of the jars, turning the glass in his crystal hand before giving it to Cryosanthia. He dislikes the fact that its there for the almost certain inevitablity that he will fail to cure her. He steadies his heart and reaches inside himself. The blue-scaled sith stands close to the bed, stopper at the ready and Geir near at hand in case they aren't quick enough. Then he grasps hold of the warmth that is the Dragonfather's blessing and works it into a spell.

GAME: Zeke casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 11 DC: 17
GAME: Zeke rolls 1d20+11: (18)+11: 29

The copper-scale stands at the ready, and watches Cryosanthia while Zeke prepares the spell. "It will be alright.", he murmurs. "We will make it right."

Cryosanthia takes the jar, likewise turning it in her hand. To her it symbolizes something else. A lot of failures since the first test with the glass of water, and a chance to pull a silver lining out a very dark cloud. She is both hoping she'll need it, and won't need it, though those lofty thoughts quickly switch once the naseau hits. It would have been great if the spell worked the first time.

The sickness, drawing out of her, filling her, a tainted taste throughout her esophagus. Her stomach and all the muscles above rebel, to expell this thing. She clenches, lurches, holds the glass to her snout and makes a long, gross, dry heaving at the end of which is a dirty clog, a gross tasting ooze, finally slops out into the jar.

Cryo dizzily pushes it towards Zeke.

Faranmidahn hears the sound of wretching, a rather pronounced wretching and her pace increases to a run, her feet slapping against the tile floor as she rounds the corner to find, "Cryo!" horking up everyone's friend with Zeke and another Sith she doesn't recognize, imediately taking up a club from the collection.

Without hesitation the blue-scaled sith-makar caps the bottle and places it on the beside table, taking another bottle from the collection and offering it to Cryosanthia. Gently he looks down at her. "Thisss prayer isss ssstronger, ssso the effect might be... magnified." He nods to her once, to be sure that she is ready before he reaches inside himself again. The murmur of draconic is soft, almost unheard, but the meaning is clear. This for now, is all that Zeke can do.

GAME: Zeke casts Greater Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 11 DC: 20
GAME: Zeke rolls 1d20+11: (15)+11: 26

The copper-scale looks startled at the sudden appearance of the Lucht, and her cry almost has him smacking her with the club he holds. But recognition comes, and he lets out a breath. He also looks quite disappointed at the ooze being bottled up, and lowers the club to await the next incantation.

"Hi Farrauuugggh!" Cryo manages, before she's hit with a much stronger spell. Her insides clench and lurch, she feels her stomach straining to throw up it's emptiness. The naseauting feelings wash over her and she grabs at the bed as she pitches forward, her throat clenching in reverse.

It doesn't come on the first heavy, it's the second, repeating all the symptoms, painful clenching, the second ooze flops out, as she just about buries her nose in the jar. She coughs hard, handing the jar to Zeke.

Faranmidahn meets the sudden tension of the coppery sith with a wary raising of her borrowed club just in time for the second volley to issue forth from her friend. She steps around the unknown, drawing up not far from her friends with both hands on her club, the slats of her visor making her expression all but impossible to read, though her posture screams, 'Halfling SMASH!'

The second ooze is, as Zeke predicted, notably larger that the first. It bubbles up out of the container that Cryosanthia throws it up into and Zeke is quick to get it away from her, fumbling somewhat in order to toss the entire mess into the bucket that sits beside the bedside table. The ooze dies a quick death there and Zeke sags somewhat, clearly disheartened by the fact that the spells clearly did not work. "Thisss one can not do more until tomorrow." He looks at Cryosanthia. "But thisss one can try to retrieve Ssseldan, or perhapss one of the People if you prefer."

"One wonders what you will do with thosse slimess?", Geir asks. "What spellss can you use?" He chuckles at the Lucht's posture. "They are ssealing them away for later, friend Lucht. Secretss they will unlock."

"There's a...mechanism..." Cryosanthia coughs, followed by two more painful dry heaves. She's panting, this is not enjoyable, and the taste in her throat is enough to make her groan another long expulsion. It's a good thing she hasn't eaten.

She looks at Faran and Geir, ready, and grins, "Thanks. Anyone you can get Zeke, it's okay, it's okay."

Faranmidahn straightens some and looks up, eyes glittering behind her visor, "I'm aware." she replies flatly. She stares, maybe glares for a moment, then turns to the panting sith, first, and she reaches out to set a hand against her scales before lifting her face toward Zeke, "Is there anything you need?" she asks with an... off tone in her voice.

Geir steps from the room for a few moments, and returns bearing a tray with two large bowls and a few towels. "One has brought hot and cold water, and towels. Which would one prefer to wash with?", he asks of Cryosanthia. "Some preferred cold for their feverissh foreheadss, otherss seemed to prefer hot for their facess."

Zeke nods to Cryosanthia, and after a brief moment, turns to leave the room entirely, off to fetch Seldan it is likely.

"Hot towels... I'm cold enough on my own." Cryo says wearily, holding out her hands. She looks at the one successful capture, gestures at the bigger jar, "That jar in that, maybe can study as much as we need."

Although she keeps staring at the bigger jar, "Would two spells work better, or just make it bigger?" She takes the hot towel and wraps it around her face, her breathing still laboured.

"One is called Geir.", the copper-scale offers to the Lucht. "Peace on your nesst."

He dunks one of towels into a bowl, and wrings it, offering the steaming towel to Cryosanthia. "One believess that both theories should be tested."

"Faranmidahn." the Lucht replies, a ripple of tension going through her frame at the typical sith greeting, but after a moment she bows her head, "Peace..." but she can't seem to bring herself to finish the reply. Something's eating her, something fresh and raw, and she turns to Cryosanthia, "Any news?"

"Yes. Merek has gone insane." Cryosanthia says, taking the towel and rubbing her face and her neck, panting into it. She inhales the warm wet scent, "He cursed that Kol was killed, wants him back to answer questions. Vowed, in the Dragonfather's temple, to bring him back."

She exhales, "There may be other news, that is the worst. There are sick and injured throughout the Temple."

Geir looks to Faranmidahn, and then Cryosanthia, moving to set the tray down on the small table beside the bed. "One will leave you both sso that you may sspeak more freely. Peace on your nessts." The copper-scale retrieves his helm, and tucks it under a shoulder. Offering a slight bow, he heads for the door.

While she straightens some at the revelation, there isn't a lot Faran has to say at first, not until Cryo's friend makes ready to give them the room. "Stay." Faran replies softly, but doesn't look, the tention is melting to a somewhat weary posture, one trying to cling to some sort of internalized standard of dignity. A slow shake of her head and, "I won't let him." she says with a razored edge in her tone.

"I've not spoken with him." Cryosanthia says, moving more onto the bed, crossing her legs and looking miserable. A patients gown is not a good choice for her. She's shaking her head, staring at nothing. "Only what I've heard from Zeke. In the sewers, he clapped a thunderstone to an alchemical fire while standing beside a pile of explosives. We were all attempting to get free. He had no concern. He blew his arm off, and barely noticed."

"I think his blood is turning him evil. He may even be, some of the things it raved, if he meant them."

"As one of the Deathdragon's own, one is mosst offended by such a thing, to bring back Kol from the dead is inssanity. It will not be permitted.", Geir says, from the doorway. He looks to Faranmidahn, and chuckles lowly. "One is not eassily commanded. One knowss that timess are dangerouss, feelingss strained, insstincts tense. One also knowss when to leave."

Faranmidahn shakes her head a little, but doesn't make to rebuff the copper sith once more. Her chin dips a touch, then, a soft, "As you would." The litany of merek's recent.... exploits barely rates a tic in the camber of her head, but she replies a distant, "I see."

"This one appreciates your company Geir. This one would speak to you soon again. Thanks, for assisting with this. I know it was not the intent of your visit." Cryosanthia dips the towel, washes her face some more, then holds it on her lap where her clothes soak up some of the water. "Peace on your nest."

Sabina approaches and peers about the enterence way into the room. "Am I interupting?" She asks softly. "If I am I can return another time. I just thought to see if the two of you are ok." She says to Cryo and Faran. To Geir she nods her head in greetings and smiles.

The copper-scale's shoulders slump a little, and he lets out a breath. "One leavess not jusst to give you room, but also has a few thingss to attend to. The Soldier's Defensse needss people right now." That said more to Faran than Cryo. "One has been ever happy to assisst you, Cryosanthia, and is grateful to be appreciated. The intent of my vissit was to help, and seeing you once more is... how do they ssay it..? Icing on the cake." Geir offers a finger-wiggle wave and steps out, intoning "Peace on your nesst" to the arriving Sabina.

Faranmidahn gets that little ripple, a flinch, perhaps, at the valediction, and the little white spider on her shoulder suddenly turns to look at her, but she extends her own with a thoughtful, "Be safe, friend." As it's repeated as a greeting... the Lucht starts to turn from Cryo, away from the others.

"Faran... come here...?" Cryo asks carefully. "You are angry."

Sabina stays where she is and hugs the doorway, staying quiet. Her eyes watching the pair with worry.

Faranmidahn unfastens her chinstrap and removes her helm and turns, without her usual headtoss to free up her hair and the look in her eyes is harrowed. The protective headgear left at the edge of the bed and she climbs up onto it with Cryo, approaching on her feet to each for Cryosanthia's face with her hands. "How are you holding up?" she asks softly in lieu of confirming or denying the charge as Sabina waits, "Hello, Sabina, you alright?"

Cryosanthia leans her head into Faranmidahn's hands. She sighs, "It's not the one and done you had with Seldan's cure I was hoping for. Zeke isn't eating because I'm not eating. I'm not eating because I'm going to throw up. The ooze... maybe the ooze under the city is done, but it was a disaster. Elly... it was Elly's plan and she's curled up in herself thinking it was a failure. On the plus side, the salt finally got used."

"I can't even make proper jokes anymore. I feel like a drum."

From her spot just outside the room Sabina nods slowly. "I am fine. I am not the one to be worried about. It is you two, hmm?" She shakes her head. "This city has changed what I thought I knew already. But there are still things that remain the same and one of those things is the need for both of you to rest and recover. And I'm willing to get the rope if I have to tie you up to do it." She adds the last with a joking smile. At least one hopes she's joking.

Zeke returns, taking his slow easy steps back into the temple to the area where those who are beset by the plague are being kept. He looks better somehow than when he left, his tiredness seems somewhat faded and though his white robes are still stained with black and gray he moves easier than he did before. His green eyes quickly pick out the group that he left, and a plague-ooze in a bedside bottle gives away that the sith-makar has already tried to cure Cryosanthia - unsuccessfully. "Thisss one hass found Sseldan, and sssent word to the People that they may sssend sssomeone ssshould that be necessssary."

Seldan trails Zeke into the room, and seems hale enough, although he has eschewed armor and traded the usual thin silver headband for a thicker and much more decorated one that bears runes and gemstones. The robe is still there, though, as is the weapon belt, cloak hastily thrown over all. He looks over the assembled, something of quiet reserve in his bearing.

Faranmidahn draws herself closer to Cryosanthia and ducks the shoulder without Zephyr on it under her chin to hug her, "I'm sorry, Cryo." she says softly. Her eyes turn to Sabina, then, "Thank you, both of you for..." Don't look at it, "for before." Her expression is drawn and haunted and there is a tension in her posture.

"This one hopes will not be the case. Oh Zeke, your robes. Seldan... Peace on your Scabbard." Cryo gazes over at pair. The sith-makar generally don't show a lot of things, but there's a guant shallowness around her eyes, and she looks tired. The plague and her lack of rest hasn't worked out well for her.

She locks eyes with Seldan, and makes the slightest nudge of her head towards Faran. She reaches out and rubs the lucht's back, forces a grin, "Let's lick this, have some tea, then talk. Yeah? Sabina. Peace on your Nest, get a club. I'm going to try and catch it in a jar but it might get away."

Bina steps out of the way and into the room so that Seldan and Zeke may enter. She nods in greetings to them both and then blanches as Cryo talks about getting a club. There's only one reason for that right now, after all. "Uuugh.. Ok." She moves to wherethe basket of clubs was stored before.

Zeke looks at Faran, moving closer to the bed with a shake of his head at Cryosanthia to ease her concerns. He brings a jar with him, offering it to the sith female. "You ssshould move back Faran, ssso that the effort to cure her can be made without risssk to you." He seems concerned about the lucht, a concern born of her odd words and her disposition.

Seldan's eyes rest on the lucht as well, although his frown is a mix of puzzlement and concern. "I am told that I should speak to you, Faranmidahn." The unspoken implication lingers in the words _but not right now_. The situation as he looks over the others becomes clear, though. "Cryosanthia, will you have me do what I may for you, then?" The words are a formality, but they seem to be important to him in some way. He lays aside the cloak and the weapon belt, pulling the place from it as he does so.

Faranmidahn gets a look for an instant like she got kicked, tighting her grip just a bit, but she releases and edges back to regard the two, "Hello." she says, then hops down off the bed to take up her own borrowed club at Zeke's direction and once again puts both hands on the tallfellow's weapon in as a contingency, though she has a certain light in her eyes.

"Sure," Cryosanthia nods, clutching her jar and making a weak smile, "Do what you can. Get me back for dragging you underground."

The white-scale is fidigity, adjusting on the bed, looking around at everyone. Zeke, her best friend, her new friend, Seldan. "Yes, anytime. Thissss one is good."

Bina takes her place in what becomes a semi-circle around Cryo with the borrowed club. Tense and unhappy at what may happen but set and ready for it none the less. "There has to be a better way then this? Maybe we'll find it. I hope. Soon."

Zeke readies his own staff, flipping it over so that the unmagic side of it is prepaired for a strike that may or may not need come. He looks at Seldan and nods once. He is ready. "Prepare yourssselves." On the stand the ooze struggles to free itself, but nobody is watching it wiggle and writhe.

Faranmidahn lifts her gaze to Cryo's face, softly saying, "You'll be fine, Cryo." and tries to force a smile, not liking being here, as opposed to closer, but there needs to be beatin' sticks on hand for contingencies, "Yes, Sir." she asides to Seldan and waits for the show to start.

Once Cryo nods her acceptance, Seldan nods in response, though a half-smile comes to his lips at the revenge joke. He does not answer, though, instead backing up a pace and closing and lowering his eyes, mace in one hand while the others arrange themselves. He is still for the space of several deep breaths, the rhythm meditative, centering, focusing. Once he is still, he raises his head and begins the spell, by now familiar to all present. The sigils and first arcane phrases, the violet fire, the slash through them, the words of negation that cause the sigils to reverse, attempting to draw the magic from the palescale and send it into nothingness.

GAME: Seldan casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 13 DC: 16
GAME: Seldan rolls 1d20+13: (9)+13: 22

Cryo rotates the jar in her hands, looking at it, watching Seldan mostly and waiting for the spell. She's tensing up, because the last two weren't fun. She watches the sigils, the interesting way they hang in the air, the sudden slash, then a pull.

A pull which turns into a lurch, her stomach and chest clenching as the roller coaster starts again. She coughs, thrusting her head forward several times, another gut-wrenching tightness, a long moan and she coughs an ooze into the jar. Hands shaking she pushes it at zeke.

Bina makes a pained face as the thing comes up and into the jar and she feels slightly sick to her stomach in sympathy. He club comes up, just in case the thing gets out of the jar, ready to smash it.

Zeke is quick to take the jar, hurrying to cap it off and trap the ooze within it. It quickly joins its companion on the bedside table, and both oozes with their continers strain to escape. Rolling around within their bottles and clammoring up the sides. Zeke shudders at the sight of those. "Thisss one wissshess that one could aid your ssspellsss Ssseldan." He sighs softly with regret that it can not be so and looks at Cryosanthia. "Hold sstrong Cryosssanthia."

Faranmidahn is poised and tense as the spell begins, enough that she half-lunges as the ooze is expelled from her friend but checks the impulse before she actually commits to a swing. She looks with concern at Cryo, "You're strong, Cryo." but takes a breath and draws back into her ready position with a glance at Seldan. "To the table." and little Zephyr, scurries down along Faran's cloak and across the floor to scale a nearby table.

Seldan looks up, and sighs a little, nodding as if he'd guessed that would happen. "It felt wrong." He closes his eyes in sympathy for Cryosanthia, but has to let the others see to her, simply waiting. "I will speak when I am weary. Tell me when you are ready."

"Urrraaaghhh." The white-scale has another heave, just because of the terrible taste in her mouth, the smell of it. She coughs, gasps, pants and looks over at the two capture. Her voice is hoarse, "Two is enough, right? I have jars for more but... will they get worse, or call Her. Maybe you can beat the next one, maybe that will be the last one. "Zeke... would two dispells make it worse, bigger? A thought for later, did I ask that already. I'm fine. Let's go again."

The Tsuaran woman makes a face again in symbathy. "I'll buy you a beer. Or wine. Or a whole keg if you want after this is done, Cryosanthia." She says a prayer then with her eyes closed and reaches over to gently touch Seldan on the shoulder.

GAME: Sabina casts Guidance. Caster Level: 2 DC: 12

"Thisss one doesss not know. The more magic that isss usssed, the worssse it ssseeemsss to be. Thisss one can not sssay however. Thisss one hass sstood by in many of thessse, to be of asssisstance, but thisss isss new magic." Zeke shuffles uncertainly. Shakes his head. "Thisss isss all we can do. But yesssss, two isss enough. We will deal with the otherssss by hand."

Faranmidahn steps around the corner of the bed for a moment, lightly touching Cryo's leg with one hand as she looks up into her friend's face, concerned, "We'll get it." she assures her, then reluctantly draws back to ready herself anew.

GAME: Seldan casts Dispel Magic. Caster Level: 13 DC: 19
GAME: Seldan rolls 1d20+13: (1)+13: 14 (EPIC FAIL)

At the mention of more magic being worse, Seldan simply closes his eyes. When Sabina touches his shoulder, he looks up, and for a fleeting moment, there's something haunted there, as of an unpleasant memory. He doesn't explain, though, only offers her a smile, and turns back to that meditative focus routine he seems to favor. It takes him a few extra breaths this time, but eventually, he does look up and begin the spell again. The spell executes again, but this time, it is crystal clear that the spell has gone awry. The reversal pull feels off, and this time he staggers a step backwards.

GAME: Cryosanthia rolls wisdom+3: (1)+0+3: 4 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls will+3: (1)+4+3: 8 (EPIC FAIL)

"I'll aim for there." Cryo wheezes, tapping at a spot on the floor.

She closes her eyes. Concentrates. Endure. Just Endure. Think of the Tower, of stone, of silence. Get through everything. You've been through everything. She mentally relaxes, lets down her guard, waits for the spell to hit.

It hits. She screams.

Cryo expells a HUGE ooze. From her eyes. Her nose. Her mouth. She's in AGONY. Her body twists. She writhes in pain, crashing off the bed. Trying to scream again but choked as the thing erupts from her.

She remembers... Darkness. The mistress's voice calm and echoing in her mind. Kill him. KILL HIM.

Sabian lets out a small yelping shriek as a new horror enter the world and her nightmares. She swings down at this new creature and tries to step back all at once, fearful of it with reason.

Zeke doesn't hesitate, immediately moving forward to blugen the ooze with his quarterstaff. The sith is faster than he appears to be, and he has no mercy for the blackness spreading from Cryosanthia's body. "Cryossanthia! Breathe!" He is worried that she can not hear him through the clear pain that she is experiancing.

Faranmidahn shrieks, "CRYOSANTHIA!" eyes widened in horror as the massive blob emerges and she instead turns to the used bucket near the bed to try and give it a bath! Sploosh! Why.. is it... getting huge(r)!??

An ice pick of pure evil lances from temple to temple behind Seldan's eyes as the spell goes awry, and he staggers back a pace. It's the shouting that makes him open his eyes, though, and he immediately springs into action, bolting for the thing with mace raised. His strikes are cat-quick and fearless, and he takes the mace in both hands as he lays into it for all it's worth, although the strikes lack his usual art and technique.

The white-sith is sprawled on the floor, on hands and knees, her mouth hanging open, eyes wide. Her first breath after this feels like she's inhaling fire, her lungs burning, as if there was no air coming in all. Another scream, or the same scream interrupted. Her eyes HURT. Her mind reels. It was if something slapped her from her subconscious, then wrung her like a wet towel and squeezed out an ooze. She's gasping for air, barely mobile. The instructions echoing in her mind.

GAME: Sabina rolls melee: (18)+1: 19

Sabina steps up instead of back this time and swings at the slime and manages to give it a thwack with her borrowed club. "I don't know why it's bigger! It's just wrong! It's wrong!" she yells.

Zeke keeps at it, no rest for the weary sith-makar. "Sssomething musst have gone wrong with the ssspell! Sssomething that made it react badly with the plague." He doesn't know, it doesn't /matter/ not right now. All he can do is batter back the ooze and watch in horror as it rises up and makes ready to attack.

GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa: aliased to weapon2-3: (2)+16+-3: 15
GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa-5: aliased to weapon2-3-5: (15)+16+-3+-5: 23
GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa-10: aliased to weapon2-3-10: (2)+16+-3+-10: 5

The attack apon it's surface must have drawn it's attention. Last to strike becomes first attacked and the ooze rears up and gushes towards Sabina who shrieks and tries to dodge away while tossing Emp sqwaking from her.

The ooze swarms up her legs and chest and finally over her head in seconds and her form falls to the ground.

GAME: Sabina rolls fort: (17)+5: 22

Faranmidahn spares a tortured look to her friend, seeing her sprawled and panting on the floor in time to catch the motion out of the corner of her eye and she turns to see Sabina's envelopment, "bleh" and she leaves the club to gravity and plunges her hands into the offensive(and angry) muck in an impulsive attempt to pull the other sorceress free, biting back a scream as her hands pinken beneath their eroding sheath of lace. Grabon!Grabon!Grabon! <halfling>

GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa: aliased to weapon2-3: (7)+16+-3: 20
GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa-5: aliased to weapon2-3-5: (1)+16+-3+-5: 9 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa-10: aliased to weapon2-3-10: (7)+16+-3+-10: 10

As Sabina comes free, aided by an adrenaline-fueled Faranmidahn, Seldan immediately lashes out again with the mace, his movements now more instinct and power than art and grace. He may or may not be able to see clearly, but the things so big that it likely doesn't matter.

GAME: Cryosanthia rolls melee: (18)+8: 26
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls melee: (4)+8: 12
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls melee: (20)+8: 28 (THREAT)
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls melee: (11)+8: 19 (CONFIRMED)
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d4+3: (4)+3: 7
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 2d6+4: (5)+4: 9

Cryosanthia is barely coming to her senses on the floor. She's in pain, can see, but her eyes ache. Things seem smokey and unfocused. In front of her she can barely make out Seldan. He's pale haired. Male. Human.

This is the Enemy! He must die!

Cryo launches at him, her hands turning into claws, her jaw dropping and her mouth filling with immense teeth. She slashes, her first set of claws tearing into his shoulder and down his chest. She misses with the other ones as she comes in close, but manages to rip and tear her teeth into his other shoulder.

Bina comes free of the slime with a sucking sound and minus a good deal of her silk dress and skin. Her eyes are wild but she doesn't scream as she keeps her breath held. No slime in! No slime! She flails at the slime near her and tries to hold on to Faran even though she doesn't need too.

Zeke lets go of his staff as Cryosanthia attacks Seldan and grabs the woman instead. He hardly thinks before his claws are trying to grasp at her scales and draw her away. "Return to your ssssenssess! Ssseldan! Sssome-thing is very wrong with Cryosssanthia!" Worry is all that comes out in his tone, deep concern for Cryosanthia, but also for Seldan. "Ssseldan." The man is covered in blood and Zeke dares not heal him.

Faranmidahn barely has time to register her success with saving Sabina, when Cryosanthia's suddenly attacking Seldan with that CREEPY GRIN going on! She shouts, "LET GO! Get him out of here!" as she throws herself against the grip holding her and tries to tear the bedding free to throw the blankets, rife with the scents of Cryosanthia, a little dash of Unwashed and distraught Lucht, and a gentle spritzing of distraction over the sith, hoping to provide enough obfuscation to allow Seldan to, "WITHDRAW!"

GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa: aliased to weapon2-3: (6)+16+-3: 19
GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa-5: aliased to weapon2-3-5: (20)+16+-3+-5: 28 (THREAT)
GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa-5: aliased to weapon2-3-5: (10)+16+-3+-5: 18
GAME: Seldan rolls mace+pa-10: aliased to weapon2-3-10: (16)+16+-3+-10: 19

There is something about sharp and abrupt pain that clears a mental miasma, and as teeth and claws rake furrows across shoulders and chest, somehow the paladin's head seems to clear. Yes, he's bloodied, his shirt ripped and stained in multiple places, but he lays into the ooze with a renewed vigor, leaving it to shatter into a black mess that covers him and the ground around him in black ick.

"Forgive me ... I was distracted and erred," he gets out in a pained voice, shielding his eyes from even the light in the room. "Zeke, I return whence you found me. Forgive me. Forgive me." Lunging for his swordbelt and cloak, he grabs both, and turns at a run to get out of sight before Cryosanthia escapes the blanket.

My cihuaa is touching me! In a corner of Cryosanthia's mind, she is thrilled. It sends an electric chill coursing through her. Her heart leaps! Nothing could make this moment better, except MURDERING the ENEMY!

Then the lights go out.

The bedsheet is distracting, enough for her to realize she's wearing one. So as she slashes and snaps she also makes a 'Wooooooo' sound. Her claws and teeth rip through making her one well armed sheet-ghost.

The man himself is a ghost, and she finds only empty air.

Bina scrables across the floor until her back is against something, feeling hurt in a way she has never felt before. A small patch of skin slips away to leave a raw sore. She whimpers and tries to find the ooze. But it's gone and so is Seldan. This leaves a ...rabid Cryo? "Cryosanthia! The Queen is your enemy! Not Seldan!"

Zeke nods to Seldan. He will find the other later, share words, but for now... The blanket helps. He traps it around Cryosanthia's head. Thrums low in his throat a males call for his mate. "Husssh Cryosssanthia. Thisss one isss here. You were hurt, but it isss gone now. Gone." He thrums worriedly and holds on so tight it makes his arm hurt.

Faranmidahn looks about the room hasily as Seldan actually heeds her, a spike of frustration jabbing the back of her mind, though her gaze turns back toward the strugling sith and Sabine. She advises her to, "Stay back, this isn't her!" in brevity's terms, but moves in and tries to grab her about the waist, pinning at least an arm ideally though her physical graces make that unlikely, and tucks in to let her armor bear any errant fang or claw that comes her way, "Ssshhhh! Easy, now, easy! Shhhhhhh....!"

It's relatively easy to tangle a blanket on the horns on Cryo's head. Though the blood dripping from the tooth holes and claws rents is disturbing. The female sith hears her mate's call. He's here! Her muscles are relaxing, her heart returning to normal, she scents mostly herself, it was her bed. Then she has something holding onto her waist, and arm.

"I'm... tasting blood. I think it's human. I'm... not comfortable with this. I don't feel good and my eyes hurt."

Bina shudders and tosses the club away from herself as Cryo starts talking normally. Her knees come up and head down to the top of them as she tries to regain some measure of calm. All she can smell is the ooze and feel the stinging of missing flesh. "This isn't normal. I grew up years without anything like this happening."

"You attacked Ssseldan." Zeke says, his tone comforting but his words not. Carefully he withdraws, unraveling the cloth with him. "Thisss one thinksss you had a bad reaction to the ssspell for sssome reassson." He looks around the room and his eyes fall on Sabina and he makes a low comforting noise in his throat for her. "Thesse are unusssual timessss."

Faranmidahn doesn't let go, yet, not until Cryo's ancestral augmentations drop... or reset or... whatever the applicable term is. Once that happens she allegedly can't do it again, but then, she didn't get the CREEPY GRIN until after that development. Her feet are still braced to offer what puny resistance her tiny body can offer against her much more massive friend, but she lets Zeke keep talking her down. Meanwhile, she asides to Sabina, "Are you hurt, Sabina?" while the acrid smoke has almost stopped wisping from her hands and the ruined lace over them, "Is there any wine or anything around? Maybe something to wash the taste out, with?"

"I'm hurt, yes." Sabina gets out through wattery eyes. Her dress looking like it's barely holding together. Acid will do that to clothing. "I don't hink I swallowed any. And my eyes don't sting. That's a good thing, right? I don't have to throw up anything right?! RIGHT?!" She says in a semi-panicy sort of way.

"Again? But there's already so much to forgive and be forgiven." Cryosanthia sighs, as her head pulls free. Her snout is normal, the GRIN is gone, and her hands, are hands. The colour of her eyes has changed to purple and they seem bruised and bloodshot. They may be the windows to the soul but they are not an appropriate emergency exit. She gropes for the bed, and sits heavily. "There was something I had to destroy, very much."

She takes Zeke's crystal hand, she has to hold something, and her belt spider. She hugs Faran with her free arm. Her breathing is difficult, her head bowed, "Could you... bring me the juice Sabina... to wash Seldan out of my mouth?"

"It wasss the sspell cihuaa. Not you." Zeke murmurs the words gently, quietly. He tries to soothe her with his tone, but he is clearly concerned. The worry wafts off of him in a scent that only sith-makar can sense. He can't help it. Gently he encourages her to sit and when she does he wags his tail half-heartedly for her. Then pulls back. "Do not ssend Sssabina. Thisss one will go. Thisss one knowss where sssuch thingss are." He moved by Sabina and gently lays his crystal claw on her head. A tingle of fear goes up his spine, but he ignores it and sends healing through her body. "You are not sssick. You are well. You did well. Thisss one thanksss you."

She was about to get up with her eyes all wide and fearful, to go looking for the juice when Zeke commands her still. She shivers at this touch and that of the healing energy. A new spike of fear driving into her heart. Will she throw up ooze? Apparently not.

The relief flood through her and overpowers everything else. She begins to cry in silence, staring at Cryo and Faran.

Faranmidahn looks to Zeke for an indication of what to do, but, as Cryosanthia returns to what circumstances have left of 'normal', she looks up into the discolored windows, rose to purple and she swallows. She tries to effect joining Cryo with due grace, but her sword does make that kind of cumbersome, "Easy, Cryo... gently, now... Zephyr?" The little spider crawls down the table and along up to rejoin her mistress who only spares a quick glance at the jars of fun that were set aside previously before seeking Sabina. She stares for a moment, two, then reaches a hand out to her.

Cryo sits on the bed, looking even more worn out than before and her darkened eyes emphasize her exhaustion. She's blinking a lot, looking around, and wincing a little. She resorts to biting the blanket as a way to get most of Seldan's blood off her tongue.

"Hey Zephyr." Her head hangs, "Sorry. I can't... do any more of that today. I feel squeezed. I'm so sorry Sabina. I thought I'd prepared for everything."

Zeke can not leave Sabina in her current condition, so rather than retrieving wine for Cryosanthia the sith-makar kneels before the woman and hums a comforting sound in his throat for her. The sound that those that guard nests make to let the hatchlings know they are safe and guarded. It's a sith sound, but he has hope that it will help anyways. That this soft-skinned woman will find it comforting as a hatchling might. "We are here."

The crying woman, who acknowledges in her mind she has less to cry at than enyone here does, turns her face towards Zeke in confusion and then understanding slowly sinks in as to what he's doing. She tries to smile and manages something close to it, reaching up to pat his clawed hand.

She then stares through her tears at the offered hand, blinking to get it in focus. With a sniffle she gets up and moves like an old woman to join the lucht and sith where they are, sink back down into a seated position. "This isn't working. There has /got/ to be a better way then this. What of holy water? Has that been tried?"

Faranmidahn smiles ruefully and reaches out to set a hand on Sabina's arm, with a slight wince for the burns. "I don't know." she says softly, the adrenaline leaving her, and fatigue, both mental and physical allowed to seep into her voice. The lucht tries to smile for her new friend, but so much is weighing on her, she can only accomplish so much, "You -were- very brave today, Sabina... I'm glad you're" mostly, "Alright...."

"There is another cure, that Seldan describes as worse." Cryosanthia says, tired and despondent. "If it works reliably I am willing to go through the pain of it. The dispelling seems something it has already adapated to. Should Kaelyn's pegs and the plague ever intersect none of us will be safe."

The white-scale reaches out to squeeze Sabina's arm, then withdraws her hands. She smiles over at Faran, "This one should get you a leash, you're always coralling me."

With Sabina attended to, Zeke quietly and inconspiciously slips out of the room. Likely to get something to drink for Cryosanthia. And for the rest of them.

Bina glances at the pair and sighs with a smile before brushing at her eyes and pushing away tears. "I feel weak. Unable to do a thing. I've watched you all suffer and in pain. I was taught things to help with that and.. none of it seems to apply. So. I'm going to take a new tactical course and do some research, I think. On several things."

Faranmidahn lifts her hand, the other curling around Cryo, and beckons the other sorceress closer, "We're all struggling, even Sir Seldan." The lucht gently scratches along Cryosanthia's scales with as much play as her position gives her, and, "If....." She closes her eyes, "If you can't fight harder..." there's a flutter in her voice, but she finishes, "Fight smarter."

"Research has not helped as much as I'd have liked. Zeke and I both created maps to predict Kol's next appearance and in the end tripped over him. All the research on oozes, we find that strange one made of melted bodyparts that I've never read of before. I thought we were as prepared for this as possible. This one is not sure what else to do. The feeling you feel, does not seem to go away." Cryosanthia exhales, staring at the floor and shaking her head. "Are you holding up Faran? This one told my cihuaa of the research station. I've not told Seldan, others."

Bina moves in closer and nods slowly. "I too ran into Seldan earlier but told him nothing other then there was a sad... a sad tale that he needed to hear but it was not mine to tell. I would tell him though if it would spare pain." She nods to herself slowly at this point perhaps it's a learning thought.

The luchts eyes close and there is a glimmer among the silvery lashes, but she's trying already to botle things up again, "I... I'm alright... then.. then I'm not..." she says in a shaky, choked tone. She takes a breath, "I... I miss them, it.. it hurts..." she confesses, her voice a tight whimper and it all comes crashing into sobs as she tucks in to the nearest support, "I wah-want them b-back!"

Cryosanthia pulls Faran over into her lap, wrapping her arms around her. She takes note of where Zephyr is before nuzzling. That same comforting noise Zeke made, she makes now. "I know Faran... I know... Feel... what you need to feel."

She keeps her thoughts from Menel, from what she and Zeke were forced to do. So many slashes in her soul it's hard to feel anymore, there's no meat left to hit.

Slowly, Zeke returns, carrying a pitcher and a tea pot. One tucked securely against his body the other in claw. He notes immediately the group gathered so closely together, and to avoid interupting puts around the room. He puts the tea pot and the picher on the stand by the bed and moves the jars away so that there will be room. Gathers glasses and places them where they can be easily reached. Then, pulls back to a corner so that the women can enjoy the closeness they all seem to need without his interferance.

Bina reaches over and rubs lightly on Faran's back. "I have felt that before. Said those words, Faranmidahn. I have. I can only promise to assist you and the others as I can. Offer my time to find answers." She pauses and nods a smile to Zeke. "And..pour us tea." Which she leans over to start doing for them all.

Faranmidahn has to let it out... it gnaws and bites and claws at her with her focus elsewhere, but it rends her utterly when she's forced to look at it, to bring the fact back into focus. And so, this she does, a Lucht until recently blessedly free of tragedy, lean living, close calls, yes, but not this. Never this and it decides to latch onto everything else it can find, frustration, doubt, fear, horror, guilt, shame and more she's carried in recent days, all of it laid bare in a wordless display of agony given voice. The comforting words, if she can even hear them take a long time to bring her outpouring to a significant ebb.

Cryosanthia holds onto Faranmidahn and gazes over at Zeke. Her look says a lot of things, her scent does as well, her body language too. I am so beaten and broken down. I'm holding it together, for her. She's lost everything, she needs something. This needs to be and I need her too. The low thrumm reverberates in her throat, and she rocks back and forth on the bed. "Big sister is here little sister. You are loved. You are deeply wounded it is alright, let the world know. You have been wronged. A tragedy has been. Pain and you are one. I will carry you, we are here for you, you are not alone."

From Zeke comes a corresponding thrum. A low reverberation of reassurance. The language of the sith-makar is not only in words, but in this as well. The sounds of the People. It is an ancient way, and it reverberates in the bones of even those that can not know it. Other sith-makar in the temple will hear this sound and know. Know that someone has lost something and they will add their own voices to the sorrow. Pain shared is lessened. Zeke nods to Sabina, appreciating her efforts, but not moving from his place. He is... apart. He can not offer the physical presence that Cryosanthia does so effortlessly. But he is no less here.

Sabina pours the tea but notes that no one will be drinking it any time soon. She looks to Cryo and then to Zeke and then back. Getting up from her seat she smoothes her tattered dress and moves to Cryo's other side and slowly, lest Cryo protest, wedges her self behind the white sith. Carefully she runs hands along Cryo's scalp, as she might brush back a human's hair. "We are here for each other." She says softly.

The sound of her frie- sister... the sounds of her friend Zeke, the sounds of the temple and the words of Sabina, the closeness and time... eventually bring Faran back down to the point of broken banks of sobs from her keening, and those eventually are broken up by more and more breaths. Eventually, without pulling up her face, she murmurs a weak, "dehngyew" sniffs several times and finally drops into long, shuddering breaths as, for the moment, the well has played out.

Cryosanthia keeps making her comforting noises, and holding onto the lucht. Her feet rest firmly on the floor and her tail has hooked over the far side of the bed. When Sabin slips in beside, the sith makes no objection, and as she works she can apprecite a few things about her large lizard friend. Cryo has a really tough hide, her scales seem almost metallic, and underneath them are very strong muscles, or bone. The muscles are very tense, she's completely stiff and it's almost like massaging scale-mail.

"That feelssss nice." Apparently it is getting through though, "This one wants to lie down. Very much."

Bina smiles as Cryo finds it soothing, and she lets go the worry she had. She eases back and away, guiding Cryo and Faran over onto the bed. She herself seems stuck there against the wall but she doesn't seem to mind. And using a smidgeon more forces she continues to soothe Cryo as she soothes Faran. Until sleep pulls them down and rest comes.

Dramatis Personae

Zeke
This sith-makar has scales of a deep blue color, a touch dark particularly toward the extremities but still very clearly blue. Six large sweeping horns adorn Zeke’s head, the forward two are more vertical but those after the first set follow the shape of Zeke’s head with a little sway. There are small scars around the base of each horn, as well as around each claw. Their source seems to be self-inflicted and nearly decorative rather than caused by combat however.

Zeke wears a chain shirt mostly hidden under layers of robes in shades of white and light gray, and is usually hooded in a cloak of the same color. The robes are sheared short just around the hips and cover a pair of white kapri-style pants slit up the side of the leg and tied with a thick midnight-blue string. Zeke also wears an odd arm-slip up the arm that is not made of crystal.

Had that not been mentioned before? Both the left arm and leg of this sith-makar are made of a beautiful crystal that gleams brightly. The arm is bare from the shoulder down for the convenience of getting it in and out of clothing.

Geir
The Sith-makar before you is dressed in heavy scale mail. The armor has been coloured a dark grey, like untouched basalt.

The tabard, pulled over the armor, is the same colour, and is marked with a golden scale. The mark of Vardama. From their belt hangs a sheathed khopesh, and upon their back is a kite shield, daubed the same colour as the armor. Occasionally a spear is carried over one shoulder, as well several other bags and pouches, hanging from his belt or straps tied to his armor.

The dragonborn's face is dominated by a scaled ridge that extends from his nose to the back of his head. The nose is a short snout, and lines up perfectly with his pointed, and horned, chin. The ridges over his yellow eyes run into the two, sweeping, horns that extend a good foot and a half past his neck. The pupils of his eyes are slits, like a large cat's. Also very catlike is his long, flexible tail, which follows along behind him, his armor (and clothing) having been tailored to allow it freedom of movement.

The colour of his scales is a rich, orange and copper glow. Some of his scales, like those on his face, are prominent and spade-shaped. His hands and feet are covered in such scales too, with all of his digits and toes ending in black, curved claws. The rest of his scales, on his face, arms, legs and torso, are small, well formed... fitting together so precisely as to become invisible. Which creates the effect of solid, but flexible, metal.

Cryosanthia
For those who have known her, Cryo is older, much older. Gone is the light on her feet, heavy in the fray, whimsical lizard girl. There is no trace of the fading youngling features which betrayed her youth, her lithe build, her playful exagerated expressions. She looks like her mother might, bigger overall with larger horns, more scale plates, a stronger keratin crest and fearsome talons. Even her gory tattoos have vanished. The Cryo you knew is gone. In a seeming instant.

For those who meet her afresh, Cryosanthia is an elegant sith-makar woman in the first year of her second century. She radiates confidence, a deep power from within. Her scales are a brilliant white, highlighted by ones which are the palest of glacial blues. These pale scales trace out the scars she used to bear, her hide is restored. She bears two fantastic patterns of these, one on her chest, the other completely covering her back from crest to tailtip. When the light hits right, one sees the dragon within. Her bearing is intense, her motions minimal grace. Two horns sweep back from her brow. Her eyes are like glittering saphhire gems, and when she blinks her eyelids have the glacial blue to them as well. She wears a white layered robe, cut for her species, with shimmering blue piping, highlights and whorls. She carries no weapons, and still keeps a tiny bag close to her heart.

For those who know the story, Cryo has been changed, physically and fundamentally by her experiences. She is a lifetime older, but a human lifetime. Still young for a sith-makar, she has centuries to go. Cryosanthia grew into herself under the fae Queen and is the only one to return with memories. These are, sadly, disrupted and Cryo struggles to reconnect with herself, her body, and friends she hasn't seen in decades. Alien at times even to the sith-makar, her heritage is written on her scales, along with her spells.

Cryosanthia, Speaker of the Sith-Makar.

Seldan
There is something about him, if one is human.

It is not easy to pin down exactly what, though. He is not the biggest man, despite a warrior's physique, just shy of six feet tall with a frame more closely resembling that of a gymnast than that of a brawler. Fair as a spring day, with hair equally balanced between ginger and blonde that is grown out of a military cut to fall in his eyes if not disciplined. Ice-blue eyes with blonde lashes hold wisdom and kindness, set into features that are even, straight, and strong. But - in certain lights, and at certain times, humans might almost see in this Eldanar man a glimpse of what a warrior of the Millennium Kingdom might once have looked like.

The warrior theme is carried again in the full platemail that he wears, its finish not a bright polish so much as a shimmer that recalls moonlight when under bright light, and quiescence in shadow. Over the platemail hangs an open, sleeveless robe of midnight-blue with moon-silvery edging and celestial symbols and creatures picked out in silver thread adorning it, and a steel pendant bearing the symbol of a crescent and sphere. A set of gold bracers, depicting celestial symbols that match the symbols on the robe, encircle his wrists.

He wears multiple belts, one of ornate silver links, another a beaten leather affair with attachments for weapons. A longsword hangs from this, from a sheath on his left hip with an ornately-carved pommel and a guard designed in an ancient style, and a much newer-looking heavy mace on his right hip. A belt pouch completes the contents of the leather belt, and a sturdy cloak over all in midnight blue bears the crescent-and-sphere of Eluna picked out in a mosaic of thousands of tiny silver crystals on the back. A simple, unadorned cloak pin holds it in place. Over his back, the top of an elkhorn, wood, and steel longbow is visible, along with a quiver of arrows made of red leather and trimmed in white fur.

Faranmidahn
A tallish Lucht with a wide, heart shaped face of moon-eyed countenance, she bears the marks of an albino, with skin a pinkish cream, and pate of full, knee length hair of ivory and bone. Her eyes are a peculiar shade of rose beneath somewhat thick ivory brows, with long silvery lashes, to which she's added two matching rows of round tourmaline settings starting at her brow and tapering down her cheeks to her jawline. Like her people, she prefers to feel the ground beneath her bare feet, though she's manifested the Clydesdale like shag of ivory more uncommon than unheard of among her people. Her voice is high and light enough to be almost troublingly cute when she intends to be anything but, though her posture is straight and proud.

She's taken her spider affectation to a functional extreme, probably more due to a certain amount of reality checks than a true forbearance of eccentricity. Black spiderweb lace sheaths her limbs, emerging from kilted leather armor; over her heart, an embossed sigil of violet, lavender and green proclaims her to be of the Order of the Purple Rose, in those circumstances where the matching broach pinning a black web-embroidered cloak to her shoulders is absent. A matching helm with a visor of black strips, when it is worn, adds shadow enough to aid the suggestion of spiders' eyes her jewerly is meant to project. At the right side of her waist, a comparitively long sword for her stature, blackened steel with a red hourglass on the pear-shaped pommel, rests in a lacquered sheath opposite an array of pouches that no doubt contain an array of adventurer's tools, while a matching Lucht Traveler's blade is strapped to her left thigh.

Sabina
Black hair that is the color of a dark Summer night tumbles down in loose waves of silk , parted in the middle to either side, draping down past her slender shoulders to come to rest at mid-back. Those waves of shining night frame an innocent youthful face of olive skin with beauty mark that enhance rather than detract from her beauty. Large dark green eyes, sparkling and full of life and laughter, peer about as if looking for trouble to partake in. Perfect arching eyebrows add to the alluring gaze and lend to her an almost noble presence. Her cheekbones are high cut speaking to Tsuran heritage. Soft kissable full lips rest beneath a straight slightly button nose. The lines of her jaw are sharp feminine angles that put the finishing touches to her striking looks.

This attractive woman is of elvish proportions. Standing at only a few inches above five foot but packed into that short stature are curves of proportionate beauty that can turn heads. A slender neck gives way to petite freckled shoulders that help support the full curves of her moderately endowed chest. An hour glass waistline widens back out into healthy hips that turn into short but shapely legs with dainty feet.

She wears a tight form hugging dress of black linen and silk, belted at the hip with daggers and pouches hanging neatly along it. Soft leather boots of ankle height cover her small feet.

When she’s out and about she is never without her peacock that normally rides apon her shoulder or struts about her feet when at ease.

Let it all out

Log Info

Dramatis Personae

Navigation menu

Search