Fate - First Reply On Ancient Crimes and Modern Consequences

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin did not move his attention from the door,

"That door is warded against physical assault."

He was tempted to respond with some kind of sarcastic remark. No shite, or perhaps, I never would have discovered that without your brilliance. However, she might be able to read or better yet dispel the warding. She continued,

"I may not be powerful in the Magic Art any longer, but a door such as this is best defeated through grace not brutality anyway. An Elven quirk."

Perhaps it was grace, or perhaps it was being able to read old elvish. This was why he rather disliked elves, always having some haughty, redundant remark to add to conversations, especially when faced with a tense situation. Though, given the situation he found himself in, it was hard to say what and who he was currently in the presence of. He took a step aside and allowed her to work on the door. Opening a portal.

Now after everything that he had to tolerate in her presence, he did not trust her or her portal for a second. Samara continued,

"Though we pass through this portal, there may be other snares within."

The small green dot rolled in the dark cavernous eye-hole in his helm. Either she mocking him and thought throwing him into a trap was pretty funny, or just blatantly bad at considering the obvious. In any case Cauldwin's patience was nearing an end.

"Care to share why you sought this place out?"

He stared at her without motion or sound for a few seconds. He then replied in an inflectionless monotone voice, "No." He then shoved her through the portal with a quick motion from his gauntlet, effectively blindsiding her with a shove. If she had just opened a portal to hell with the intent of having him run through for her amusement, she'd be first inside.

Entering the portal one would find an oddly well weathered small room. The floor was clean smooth black stone tiles. The walls were made from many long thin orange-red insulated planks. Against the wall adjacent to the portal there was a desk, a stone alchemical apparatus, a small iron burner, a few beakers and bottles, and some rotting ingredients hung from iron hooks on the ceiling. To the left of the door was a redwood bookshelf of elvish tribal make, empty save for a few journals and one large black book that's cover was sutured from many different hides.

The rusted warrior, took a flask from his belt filled with an odd blue liquid. He uncorked it and allowed the black tar he was bleeding to fall into the bottle. He recorked it, shook it, and the bottle gave off a weak cyan luminescence. He then stepped through the portal, barely illuminating the room. He then remarked, "Hmm, good to know you weren't just toying with me, Elf."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara turned to regard her companion as he stepped through the portal. Without a word she lifted the blade between them, opposite edges held fast between the flesh of her palm and her fingers, and with a single, sharp press inward straightened the bent weapon. It flipped idly in the air until its grip fell into her waiting hand.

"Best pray to your god you don't fall into a trap you can't get out of alone. I'll be tempted to leave you there," the Elven woman finally commented.

That was all she had to say on the matter before she turned to the left to examine the bookshelf. Who knew if the man knew how to read, she sneered to herself. Thrown about and into an unvetted portal after being given a cold shoulder. Sounded like three strikes to her. If he wanted to be alone with his thoughts then the man could go play with the alchemy table. Might even stumble over the secret of who shoved the rod up his arse in Samara's missing time.

The journals warranted a cursory examination, but the hide-bound tome was the most interesting on the shelves. Something Samara felt required fast examination before Dy'vus sauntered over and declared it heretical and worthy of summary destruction. As though Samara were oblivious to such a tome's construction not boding well for its contents. Knowledge was knowledge. No one died from reading a book.

Reading a book aloud was a different matter. Many spells were somatic. Every Mage knew better. Another reason not to let her metal-bound skeleton sate his curiosity unchaperoned.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

He usually ran with a three strikes rule when it came to judging the unknown. In Samara's case he would have to make an exception, she was fluent in elvish. Since he had the elvish vocabulary of a toddler, he would need her aid. He immediately headed to the shelf and seized the journals and the black book setting them on the desk. He placed the luminescent bottle on the desk.

The journals he could make out the elvish numerals for one two and three and thus pilled them in that order. The black book he hesitated to open, he'd seen books like this in investigations back in Alliria, he still vividly remembers a rookie watchman who mishandled such a tone be flayed alive with blood magic... Still, its contents would likely be necessary. He flipped open the book finding a table of contents with titles he could not fully read.

He flipped to the first page which was a diagram of child's corpse, dissected and displaying the best way to butcher, harvest, and drain it. Sadly not the darkest magical book he opened, some of it was made of various alchemical symbols and equations, but the instructions and notes were in elvish. He didn't turn, he only spoke to his companion, "Dark one, I trust you can translate this?"

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

"Yes," Samara replied slowly from the other side of the room. "I was in the process of doing so before you stole them from my grasp. Enjoying them so far?" Oh, the Dark Elf knew the man couldn't read a bit of it. She knew else Dy'vus wouldn't have tried beating his way through the port-way earlier. It was time the man was forced to actually engage her as a person again. Samara was no tool for him to pick up and discard as he saw fit.

She slowly lifted a bottle and gave it a delicate swirl as though there were still liquid inside it. Well balanced. Someone took pride in their work long ago. Most of the furnishing showed their age, of course. They were still in one piece and far from turning to dust at a single touch.

The tips of her fingers traced along the desk to find any drawers or indentations that might mark a hidden cache. No threat to life hung over their heads at the moment, and Dy'vus needed to sweat -- or grind his teeth -- for a time. Samara could wait. An Elven Vampire was the last creature a person should try to outlast. Well, a dracolich would probably be worse, but they would always have enjoyed Dy'vus as a chew toy long ago.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Killing a hydra required less patience then dealing with this dark spawn. He needed her to translate the instructions and detailed information on the processes in this book. When it comes to wounds like this, in order to cast out a Wraith-Warden you require two things: either nonsensical rules to the wound, or having the access of the wounds source be dictated by something close to sources proverbial heart.

The small green dot that could be seen in the eye-holes of his helm traced her movements as she poked around the location, he had doubts there were any more secrets given the relative clandestine nature of said room. But you never knew... However it should not be understated how fed up Cauldwin had become with Samara at this point. Whatever personal feelings she or he had about the given situation were irrelevant to him. Almost from the beginning she had been endangering the success of this mission. Make no mistake, in Cauldwin's mind this was a mission. Not a social call, not a treasure hunt, a mission that involved the very safety of the realm.

And here she was, riffling through a new found room rather then handling quite possibly her only real use within his company. He couldn't just destroy her, though given what resided within her he had no qualms about doing so any longer. He needed her get it together and finish this mission, but how to do it? She was a vampire, a creature that regardless of what strain he came across seemed to have some form of potent regeneration, perhaps torture would ensure degree of compliance? He supposed he should at least try the diplomatic approach before he sinks to more depraved methods.

There was an annoyed exhale from Cauldwin, "What are you doing?"

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara straightened up from examining the workspace at the man's ever so polite inquiry. Slowly the creamy caramel colored Elf turned so that her eyes found the bones wrapped in metal once more. "Waiting." Her arms crossed over her breasts while her eyebrows lifted a hair. "On you." Which would no doubt rankle the man given his demeanor and tone of late. "To ask for help. To tell me what your plan is. To inform me what is happening. To -- put it simply -- treat me as a person, Dy'vus. Something you haven't done since we left the cellar."

Whatever had happened between there and the heart of the wound, Samara had no knowledge of it. Cauldwin's annoyance, distrust, and even exasperation were all abrupt and without reason so far as she was concerned. And Samara had lost patience with it the moment he threw her into a portal as his canary in a mine.

And just to make it ever so much easier for him, she added, "Do you want me to translate that journal?" All he had to do was say 'yes.' Though if his current method of "interacting" with her held she doubted he'd manage to force that single word out from his empty helm.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin's teeth pressed together in annoyance at this remark, as far as he was concerned she was very much not a person. In fact, do to that *thing* inside he wasn't sure if he was speaking to a singular entity, hell technically he was yet to determine if the thing in front of him was a threat to the very order and stability in the realm.

Beyond that, he didn't know how much of this nonchalant behavior given what had happened was feigned ignorance or a genuine disconnection from the actions when possessed. Frankly he was looking at an alien entity of unknown power, intention, origin, and connections. If Cauldwin had a sense of Irony he was very aware of the similarity of classifying himself. But that was a judgement for another time. Right now he needed its aid.

Best to tell it what it wants hear, he spoke apologetically, it was false of course but the inflection was not so easily discernable as being a lie, "I apologize Samara, I've been rather terse. The plan is to learn about the source of the wound and then return to it. I need your aid to see it done." The mention of his plan was of course only a tiny portion of what really had to happen, but given what happened the last time his intentions were given and that he had no idea how he would decide to go about closing the wound once he had useful information, it is probably best not to go into detail on the whole plan.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Cauldwin made a sudden turn in his demeanor, which had Samara questioning its authenticity. Nonetheless, she would have come off as a genuine ass if after what she'd said she spurned him outright. That did not mean the lopsided eyebrows and slight pull at the corner of her lips had been hidden, however. A few words didn't absolve him of what he'd done. They were a start though.

He wants to return to it, the Darkness whispered sweetly to Samara. Amusing he's trying to hide his intentions; they'd been quite clear earlier.

True enough. Long as Cauldwin didn't plan something nefarious after locating the source of such corrupted power, she didn't care that it was ended. "To seal the wound," Samara said with a watchful eye. Such a statement shouldn't be objectionable by her companion. "That is why we're here." Slowly she approached at an angle to the man to ensure her stayed near the center of her focus with his appendages in clear view. If he tried grabbing her again, the Dark Elf was prepared to snap such a limb at the joint. Proper distribution of shame and all that.

"Is there something we need to find, or do you want me to read the entire thing and tell you if something stands out?" Hopefully he didn't want her to read it all aloud. Well, if he did Samara would think of something to try mitigation the risk of conjuring some ancient evil by mistake.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin watched Samara intently, watching for any sudden movement or signs of transformation. He noted that she was watching his limbs closely. Not surprising given that every side of her had seen what he was capable of and had experienced being on the receiving end. He reached back into his satchel pulling out a scroll and small thin metal needle, unrolling the scroll on the desk revealing the parchment to be blank.

He took the book and found a few select pages that held the alchemical symbols for binding. "Read around these selected pages." He place his mailed fist in the gap of his left arm and chest plate and pulled of the gauntlet revealing his lengthy, strong, pale-grey, badly scarred hand. He picked up the odd utensil between his index, middle finger, and thumb. He pressed the metallic tip into the flesh of his palm, piercing the skin and drawing out the acidic black tar that was his blood and putting it above the page in preperation. "Let us begin."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara slowly let her blue eyes drift away from the man and to the book he'd left open. So he did have something in mind, and wasn't completely ignorant of what to look for in the bound inscriptions. "Very well." Her eyes lifted from the page to observe the man's preparation for taking down his translation. Appropriate that he'd use his own blood under the circumstances.

Once he was ready, Samara began to read the writings on the chosen pages. There was a slight delay any time she moved to a different part of the page or a different paragraph, however. Time enough to study the words to make sure she didn't cast a spell -- not that her own powers would accomplish that feat, but some books carried their own reserves. Best not to give it a means to manifest.

Binding? A soft chuckled danced in the recesses of Samara's soul.

The author of the book seemed surprisingly versed in matters of mystical energies. Obviously they'd spent a great deal of their time -- and possibly soul -- on their research. Such devotion (obsession) explained the realm in which they two of them stood now. No doubt such a person would have been overjoyed to have watched the Goddess work. Thankfully even their departed soul hadn't shown up to 'welcome' their intruders. Not yet, anyway. Time would tell if they remain so aloof if they returned to the heart of the void again, but with a more insistent knocking at their door.

"Binding this place would not be easy," the Dark Elf remarked after she finished reading and before turning the page. "Though you might be able to at least keep its marionettes from bleeding into the physical world. For a time." A round about way of asking if Dy'vus intended to do something other than seal, heal, or otherwise dispatch the Wound. Samara hadn't expected him to show interest in this particular kind of magic.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

"Never underestimate the will of the Warfather. More importantly, never underestimate me."
he replied coldly. Scrying the translations in Wiir, and copying the complex diagrams and alchemical equations as he went down the parchment. Cauldwin had heard legends from his mother about these sorts of dark arts of the alchemical trade. Women who birthed dragons and beasts, imbuing statues and armor with the essence of another life... he hoped it would be something lost to time. He was wrong.

The thoroughly detailed instructions explained the procedure of binding and animating material with and to a living entity. This was doubtless a viable method of overruling another expulsion from the wounds source. He continued to copy the translation, until it was completed.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

"I see the extent of our discourse remains constrained to veiled threats," Samara scoffed.

You know this technique is barely adequate. I'm surprised how well they've held together after all this time. Though I am impressed it never stops making more puppets so long as there are fresh corpses on hand.

Of course She would weigh in on the technical aspects of this binding ritual.

"Is that all you require, Dy'vus?" The Dark Elf looked over at the man once again. "I could read through this tome in search of a means of severing the animus of the golems created here. If they created one." Not knowing what the man planned it was quite difficult for her to properly offer him any assistance. Ironic seeing how the man looked down on her for some reason. He made it difficult to be anything but a hindrance.

Well, either way you'll manage to leave here, Sweet.

With how similar the two of them were, Samara had a glimmer of hope they'd manage to...connect somehow. Perhaps she should disregard such a foolish notion. A Lawbringer like him would only turn on her in time anyway.

He is quite dogmatic isn't he? Perhaps if you brought him home to me, Sweet, I could 'convince' him to see you in another light?

That was not what would happened. Samara knew exactly what would happen if she returned "home."

Samara stood ready waiting to see what Dy'vus' next move was. After all, it'd be unwise to present her back to him in an effort to run ahead.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

"I see the extent of our discourse remains constrained to veiled threats," Samara scoffed.

Cauldwin retorted matter-of-factly, "Incorrect. When I make a threat, I make a threat. I don't like to be... inauthentic with such expressions of intentions." He continued finishing a final diagram. Samara weighed in on the technical aspects of the ritual,

"Is that all you require, Dy'vus?" The Dark Elf looked over at the man once again. "I could read through this tome in search of a means of severing the animus of the golems created here. If they created one."

He stopped writing, and turned his head to look back at Samara. He weighed saying any additional information to the she-elf/shadowfiend, he relented figuring it couldn't do any more harm. "You could undo these misbegotten creations with a magic phrase... *if* they were golems. Tell me Samara, what do you know of times past and ancient ways?", he said with a hint of excitement in his voice, for he so loved telling stories.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

I could answer for you.

Samara knew better. The fiend was never that helpful. She could answer for Samara, but She wouldn't -- at least not in a constructive manner. After all, why enlighten someone that would no doubt prefer to destroy Her?

"I spent a great deal of time when I wasn't hunting monsters reading tomes of newer and older schools of mystic thought," Samara replied with a slight shrug. At least it was a topic that didn't have the edge of a blade to it. "Though since leaving home, I've found our library smaller than it seemed. My people were perhaps too removed from the rest of the world." Though she'd learned quite a bit since, Samara had spent most of her time learning combat techniques than lounging in any local libraries. The sheer necessity of survival required a dramatic shift in attention if she were to advance in a new skillset quickly.

"As above, you seem versed in matters related to this place, Dy'vus. If you would share, I have an ear to listen." Just because she couldn't spend days in a library any longer didn't mean Samara had lost patience in hearing stories. A skill she'd turned toward finding jobs others would overlook because they couldn't stable the 'preamble.' Too many hunters just wanted a job posting without any details.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

There was a barely-audible, giddy, high-pitched sigh from Cauldwin, although he wasn't sure if the elf could hear it he cleared his throat before telling an ancient tale, reciting it in a melodramatic tone and inflection of a playwrights' announcer, "Back in the days of yore, when the realm was still young, magic and divinity was much more potent... and prevalent. All primordial creatures of the age could both attune to magic, and use it more frequently. From such a potent age of magi however, came dark methods. Methods of dominion, war, and cruelty..." Cualdwin gave a little dramatic flick of his intact arm as he closed his hand into a fist with the end of the delivery. Clearly savoring the opportunity to show this more dramatic persona.

He continued, "In those times many magical legends were made: armies of immortal stone and metal warriors, imbued with the essence of a slain warriors life and soul... living armor grafted onto the flesh of warlords... transmutating gold out of iron and lead... mothers of covens birthing demons, dragons, and beastmen..." He said this as he slowly raised his gaze upward as if seeing the heavens. He then returned his gaze to Samara with a quick motion, "Guess which one of these lost dark arts we found?"

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Mothers of Covens? Her voice chimed in given the topic of discussion. I did not limit myself to just Covens. I had demonic armies seeding countless women to produce a host of new and diverse creatures! You should have seen them, Sweet. If only I were free to walk among the mortals again -- the life I would bring back to this dreary world.

Dominating, violent, and cruel life like what Dy'vus said, Samara thought though she knew She would only take it as a compliment.

And you, my Sweetest, would lead them.

Appealing as that was, the Elf hadn't yet lost her soul.

As for Dy'vus' question... did he knowingly or unknowingly ask if she knew what kind of creation he was? Best to avoid that topic for now. The man of metal was of a pleasant mood; no need to tempt souring it -- again. "They're mannequins of flesh, wood, and metal, but the dead are used to provide their animus?" Samara humored the man, expecting he had a far more elaborate explanation ready to drop. "The means of their initial creation falling under 'cruelty.'" A small, dark joke, Page one had been dissecting children. Seemed the researcher had been particularly unconcerned about what most would consider decent.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

There was a shift in Cauldwin's posture at Samara's remark. She kind of missed what the moment had granted them despite the grimness of the situation past and present. They had uncovered a dark art lost to time, substantiating legends! However he could understand if she didn't share his excitement, you have to have a certain understanding and appreciation for alchemy. He responded, "Animus is considered the masculine aspect of the soul, and not powered with the dead, but in fact moving life into a new vessel. They aren't undead or possessed. At least not the more refined creations we've stumbled across. They are in fact alive, in an unknowable state of agony and madness perhaps... but alive."

He closed the book, placing it beneath the other three journals. He then layed out the parchment with instructions, replacing his hand in the gauntlet. He then pointed to the top of the parchment, "What the knife-ear fools call 'life weaveing'...", he looked back at his elven companion, "No offence, to you. Is the animation of of inanimate. An exchange of essences through alchemical means. And a perfect way to stop that bastard at the center of the wound from expelling us again..."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Why don't you offer 'Dy'vus' to call upon me? You know I could empower his little spell. Moreso than he could believe even if you told him.

Probably because the man would refuse out of principle, most likely. Samara wished the dark goddess would stop taunting her when the fiend knew very well why the Dark Elf did or did not do what she did.

"Are you intending to bind yourself to something inanimate? Something like the dwelling that resides in the source of this Wound? It is difficult to banish one's self." Though they'd need to make sure such a binding dissolved before anything befell the Source -- in case of complications resulting in their close relation. Or perhaps the man intended to bind to something else such as a sword or a gauntlet; an object used as an anchor like rock climbers did in the event they fell. Less chance of complications, but a greater chance of the anchor being relocated or destroyed. Though whatever held this place intact didn't seem the sort to collect the 'trash' of the realm.

"As for the creations of this place, I am aware they are alive. Strictly speaking. There comes a point when being alive is nothing more than a technicality. A spirit used as a means of animating material -- fulfilling e cosmic requirements for life and intellect without the cumbersome demands normally placed on such a creature. The capability for self-governance, for instance. Most find it best -- easier -- to consider them dead or so-called 'undead.' After all, releasing them from living death is a kindness." Samara regarded Dy'vus curious if he had any disagreements or personal thoughts on the matter.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin nodded courteously, in truth not understanding if she was prattling about an underpinning elven belief in what was alive or simply confirming what he had just said regarding the plan and what we needed to do now. He also became keenly aware something was distracting her, as she would on occasion become troubled for a second or two. None the less, he pretended he did, "Yes... so will you aid me in the endeavor?"

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara stared at the man for a moment after his question. "I'm not an Ivory Tower scholar, Dy'vus. I wasn't conveying my understanding intending to take a nap while you worked. I will aid you. The Wound needs to close."

You two are adorable together. You're so alike and yet painfully opposed.

Yes, the Elf would help. For her own sake as well as everyone else.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

He gave a nod, "Good. There is much preparation to be done.", he watched closely as she paused again, "Is that thing talking to you?" He turned and gathered the books from the table, tossing them on the floor. It was a shame such knowledge would not be shared, but such dark teachings regardless of the benefits would only inevitably be used for wicked business. He garbed a glass flask filled with a dark green bile from his belt, the stomach acid of a large acid spitting snake mixed with a catalyst to increase the acidic affect before throwing it hard onto the pile of books with a CRACK!

The pile of books dissolved, he looked back at his companion, "I know you likely would have wished the knowledge shared with the world... but some things can never be trusted in hands of the mortal."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

A quiet hiss escaped Samara's lips as the bright blues were replaced by white rings of salvation suspended in fathomless black seas. "Watch your tone; that thing is my goddess." The Dark Elf stared at the man for a moment. In the blink of her eyes they resumed their original color again.

A soft clearing of the throat followed. Her rebuke hadn't been a conscious decision. It just... burst forth as though Dy'vus had insulted the Dark Elf herself. A calmer tone returned as she commented further, "She is always talking to me. I was in Her embrace too long to be free of Her thoughts no matter how far I travel."

Not that you're trying that hard to silence me, are you, my Sweet?

Samara knew it would be best to do so in order to preserve her own identity, but the fiend was right. A deep, silent part of the Elf's being didn't want to silence Her. Sometimes she wondered if the frustration and exasperating felt wasn't because the Dark One wasn't more helpful, but at herself. Knowing despite it all, Samara ran to retain her own identity, but couldn't bring herself to renounce the monster within.

A scowl crossed her features when Dy'vus destroyed the books. "I would have wished their full contents shared with me. I would decide what the world needed to know. Destroying research -- even obtained through foul means -- doesn't bring the dead back to life, dissuade others from doing the same, or likely even register on the original offending soul. It merely deprives the whole of understanding our own existence. The price was paid; why squander it out of spite?"

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

"Not out of spite, caution and experience. Like I said, these sorts of things can never be trusted in full to any one hand. Don't think I am fully bereft of understanding the merits of knowledge others would call profane, you can't fight what you don't know. All that however is besides the point. We have what we need." He said as he watched the books melt.

He turned his head a bit to meet eyes with Samara, "As to your issue with your... goddess. I can sympathize, though as you may have gathered it isn't my gods or my lord that have so hindered my autonomy." He turned back to face Samara, in the dim light. He turned his head to look at the archaic alchemical equipment, it was definitely behind the times. He could make it work. He looked back at Samara, "I gathered you have a background with the arcane, how are you with alchemy?"

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara shook her head silently for a moment. "How you can be so certain without having read each of them in full," the Dark Elf replied with mild exasperation. It wasn't that she didn't understand what Dy'vus said; it was just the sheer unwavering certitude whose ignorance might well cost them or others later that vexed her. Hopefully the man was right that they had all they needed from the books.

Arms crossed before her, Samara listened as Dy'vus spoke of autonomy. Perhaps she'd elaborate more, but given earlier treatment confessing the true depth of the corruption seemed unwise.

She turned to follow the man's gaze to the equipment nearby. "Given the proper ingredients I know how to craft many alchemical solutions. What do you have in mind?" Whatever it was, she hoped he knew the recipe. Every young Mage was taught the fundamentals of alchemy, but only a specialist could wing it and not risk dangerous results.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin threw his satchel's and supplies on the table, splaying them out in a methodical, well practiced manner. He set the potion that emitted light from his belt on the table to fully illuminate the workspace. He splayed out various alchemical ingredients: viles of strange and exotic fluids, chunks of plant and animal matter, foul and sweet smelling poultices, and even the grains of precious metals and gems. The ancient burner and and separated mold-pour lay adjacent. He then placed a bit of bramble in the burner and took a pinch of a strange red poultice. He then through it hard into the burner with brambles creating a small fiery explosion.

It was time to make a legend happen. Time to undue the deeds of his treacherous fellow watchman. Time to replace a part of what was taken. He pulled out a small wooden box that had been taken out from the satchel. He took out the jawbone knife from his belt and with it forced the lid of the box open. Inside was a black mangled skeletal hand that seemed to be fused with the black metal gauntlet it was a part of. He put the item in the center of separated mold-pour, as if the limb was in the middle of some stone spiderweb.

He then looked back at his compatriot, "The thing about alchemy is, precision is everything. One pinch to much or too little of this or that and we may cease to exist. The other thing about alchemy that simpletons and dullards such as the fools in the college of elbion fail to understand is that alchemy isn't just chemistry with magical ingredients. Their are rules, rituals, costs... it is as much a magical art as conjuration or abjuration. It must be treated with as much respect. Though I'm sure I don't need to tell you that." He said this as he caressed his missing hand, the funny thing about the conundrum was, he was actually left handed. He couldn't wait to have that edge back.

But he had to follow the instructions transcribed to a tee, or this could end up displacing the two of their souls or some other such personal calamity. He then placed the instructions in front of him, before his posture straightened and he spoke playfully to Samara with a bad impression of a Elbion accent, "So then lead assistant researcher Sam, are you ready to begin the experiment..?"

Samara Asenta​