Fate - First Reply On Ancient Crimes and Modern Consequences

[Samara Asenta]

"I just like the fiery explosions." Samara spoke with as little emotion as Elvenly possible while she sported a stonrworked empty stare. A beat passed before one corner of her lips turned upward. "It may not conjure a fireball or raise the dead with a flick of the wrist," she added on a more serious note, "but there is often magic involved. Only fools are reckless when it comes with tampering with the fundament of reality." There were recipes that weren't magical and yet could be considered alchemical -- mixing of a healing salve from botanical ingredients, for example. Though a magically infused concoctions derived of more exotic ingredients could provide a far more effective solution of the same.

It was a curious observation by the Dark Elf that Cauldwin seemed to enjoy taunting her in threes. An explanation of the fundamentals of alchemy wasn't taunting per se, but then it wouldn't be a trifecta of explanation, assistant, and 'Sam.'

"I will endeavor to keep up, Master," Samara replied without venom, but with emphasis on the man's self-appointed role in their 'experiment.' "It sounds as though you had far too much time among the 'fools' of the College of Elbion. I'm curious what they did that betrayed their ignorance."

"Do you intend to bind yourself to the limb? Retrieving something once lost?" There was a smidgen of curiosity how he'd lost in the first place. Perhaps she'd ask later. Unfortunately, his Elven companion wasn't overjoyed at his possible reunion -- the man had been annoying enough with one hand. Should he try to pluck her off the ground without her consent and throw her across the void he'd lose more than an arm. "Or will that be a rejoining saved for ater after it is used it to cross into the Heart?"

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cualdwin gave an oddly faltered snicker at Samara calling him master, senior researcher, would have been the title at elbion, but he rarely received any flattery, he wasn't going to besmirch it by correcting her. At her inquiry though he did not mind answering, "As to quote the Master of alchemy at the college, 'We have no use for dull brutes who think they understand magical principles because they can mix a few potions and remember stories past down to them by their even duller and more brutish ancestors.' He no longer has a functioning jaw if your curious..."

As for her second inquiry, he answered promptly and professionally, "We will be joining the parts here and now, it is a requirement to reach the heart of the wound. It is connected to it, its 'craft' so to speak. It cannot expel itself, thus with it on me it cannot expel us. However, once the actual 'joining' begins I will not be able to handle to more delicate aspects, I'll need a woman's touch. Let me know when your ready to begin the process."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara didn't have the heart to tell him he would probably have gotten similar treatment among her own people. Though not because they had some sort of reputation to uphold as a college might. They were a reclusive order that wouldn't be terribly impressed but such... humble skills, nor -- unless Cauldwin showed deference and eagerness to learn -- would they be terrible receptive to outsiders at all. As for the jaw, "And no one stopped you from leaving?" Seemed like someone else wouldn't have let an outsider brutalize one of their own.

Then there was the matter of delicate aspects of the joining, which she would handle. By delicate did the man mean complex, nuanced, and dangerous? Because if he actually meant a woman's touch had any influence in magic... And goddess help him if he was trying to hit on her. Samara had plenty of Cauldwin 'hitting' her as it was. Though his present demeanor was far more charming than the 'I have a rod too large too far up my arse' persona only a short time ago.

"I am ready."

Mm, as am I.

"If this limb is attuned to this place," Samara added, "do we need to be watchful for any threats suddenly arriving because they detect a threat?" The man seemed eager to share his magical knowledge, so why not ask the question? Samara knew such things did happen, but whether it would happen in this one would depend on the nature in which it was 'connected.'

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin laughed a high-pitched laugh before stopping himself and clearing his throat, "Oh, I didn't ruin his jaw, I corrected him on an alchemical equation, the miscalculation resulted in an accident in the laboratory. Not so dull I couldn't solve for e over x c cubed ye fecker..." He then turned his gaze to his hand, "We still need to make the bonding agent. It is unlikely we will be under threat here."

He mixed a various amount of fluids in the first decanter, that steamed and condensed in the second. All the while he seemed to have a certain dance in his step as in his mind, their was an Allirian shanty in his mind. He would often sing these while he brewed such concoctions at his own dwelling in Alliria. Old habits die hard it seems, for as he worked his hips and shoulders swayed to an unheard rythem, or perhaps heard as their was an audible beast to the clinking of viles and and mulching of powder in the mortar and pestle.

He then began sing, softly at first,

"Picking up the pieces of the day,
And casting them away,
Walk into the town below,
And lay it all so low,
Waltzing with Paulina.
Waltzing with Paulina."
​

He then spun on his heel, reaching for the poultice and pouring it into the second decanter through a small iron, air-tight hatch above the glass. He then continued singing, at a normal volume now,

"Now all the world's asleep,
With the secrets that they keep,
Climb 'till your legs are tired,
And your eyes are open wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide,
Polska Ukrayina,
Polska Ukrayina, now!"
​

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

A presence pressed against Samara's back as honeyed words whispered into her ear. Moments like these are why I tolerate you having run so far, my Sweet. The dark entity watched Cauldwin sway and sing through the Dark Elf's eyes. With its current material vessel bound in place, Samara was Her eyes and ears in the world. The ritual had been interrupted, but not all had been lost.

The color bled from Samara's body as she stood nearby. It was only natural when the dark powers were used that her body take on a more fitting form. Wisps of translucent darkness slowly appeared in the room; they writhed and curved around the animate armor and bones to carefully elevate and organize the alchemical equipment. Why should Cauldwin need to sacrifice motion to reach for some supply? Samara and her goddess were happy to indulge in his alchemical experiment.

"That's an Allirian song, isn't it?" The now snow-white Elf asked. "Sometimes an alchemical process benefits from the invigoration of good song and dance." There was power there for certain magics. Samara had seen a few of the 'Wild folk' -- those that believed themselves more attuned to nature -- perform such things. Their magic did seem to have an unique quality to it.

It was surprising to see someone so bulky and wielding such weapons to be dancing and singing while concocting materials, however. Not what most would envision when reading fables to children or hearing of holy or blasphemous rites.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Her inquiries had brought down his mood somewhat significantly, as well as witnessing the darks wisps starting to much about with his equipment. He reckognized that once again he was not in the presence of Samara. His dance and song stopped almost immediately, as he quickly snatched back his equipment from the wisps that tended to the limb. His limb. This thing's foul corruptive influence smattered all over it. He quickly snatched that away from the wisps as well. Holding the limb his posture was now much more aggravated, his shoulders seemed broader and slouched, and there was definitely a violent urgency to his posture.

He barked his order with a hint of Malevolence beneath the otherwise stout and authoritive inflection, "Cease and desist immediately." It seemed every time he would otherwise be at ease with Samara this thing inside her reared it pale face. It was clear he couldn't trust himself in a state of weakness around her, nor could he trust and helping hand given by this creature before him. Regardless of what transpired next, he would need to take measures to ensure any future medaling with the alchemical procedure was not tampered by this malevolent force.


Samara Asenta

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara blinked. The instruments and vessels of ingredients were set back down upon the table without a word and just as soon as Cauldwin demanded it. Only then did her visage darken. The Elf's black lips peeled back to reveal the elongated canines as her shoulders rose with tension. "Then perform your own damned alchemy," she snapped with just as sharp and viscous a tone.

The snow-white woman with black eyes turned on the spot and stormed back over to the door-portal. The Elf stopped before it, then turned to face the man one more time. "You have some nerve, Dy'vus Luno. Because you bow before a God of War you think the darkness you toy with is better than my own? That you're purer than me? Or are you running away from your own past faster and harder than I am? And I have a goddess chasing me. So make up your mind -- do you want me to help you, or leave? I'm through guessing where I stand with you." The silver-whites of her eyes shone with greater intensity than the lighting of the room alone could account for as Samara stood awaiting the man's response.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

That was a lot to unpack. He wasn't so much furious as confused at this point. He 'bowed' to know one. His relationship with the War-Father came from strict alignment, he had also not given any real indication that he was blindly loyal to the entity, this was either misconstruction on his half or projection on hers. Purity had nothing to do with why he distrusted the two entities before him. He couldn't tell which half was currently talking to him at a given time, nor what they wanted, nor even what they wanted with him. This whole outburst just seemed filled with the angst of youth, coming more from the illogical conclusion of hidden passion than any professional perspective.

Then, finally there was that final question. Before she had asked he would have without hesitation told her to leave. She had proven with that unknowable entity inside her to be far more of a hindrance than a help in his mission. However the hurt wrath in her tone and actions stirred something equally as emotional and illogical in Cauldwin. Something that he could not ignore, he wanted her by his side. He didn't know why, or how, or what mental conundrum led him to this phycological malady but he needed her by his side.

(Something to set the tone for the face to face reveal, hope it fits well: Youtube: "Peace at Last?"
This would cause Cauldwin to do something exceptionally out of character, their was sigh as his posture relaxed. He then slowly raised his hand and damaged arm to his helm and lifted it from his head. It revealed the shining steel chainmail hood and leather coif beneath it, and then the badly scarred chin with ashen-grey skin and light grey goatee. Beyond that, the many scars across a large mouth tinted a slightly darker hue of of bluish grey. It then revealed the grey handle-bar mustache and the long chiseled and bent nose, the left side of face was concave in skeletal structure, bosting a pronounced deformity where the left eye should have been. The right was a green glowing, pupiless dot inside his gaunt, tired eye. Light grey curls peeked out from underneath the chain hood and leather coif.
The rusted bell helm was helm the damaged arm. And now the not-so-vissageless, not-so-inhuman, tired, scared, broken, man-at-arms stood in front of the vampire. He allowed himself and her a second to soak in what he had just done, before giving his answer. His voice was tired, sad even, he spoke as if he was talking to a long lost friend, "I want you to stay by my side, but I want to know I can trust you." There was a small pause before he added something, something to let her know he was serious, that he cared, "My name is Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr, Allirian Watch: seventh regiment 'Unstopables', Butcher of Alliria, dead man. If you would know something of me ask it, let there be no more secrets between us, and if so, please, stay with me."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

Samara stood still and silent as the man slowly revealed himself. What had brought this on, only the man himself knew. From where she stood it was just another shift in his demeanor toward her that the Elf had yet to understand. There were obvious signs (even blatant statements) which if accepted spoke of what might be driving all of it; but nothing to affirm as fact why or when the changes came. Of course, the man likely thought the same of her. The one difference was Samara had suffered enough senseless rebuke in silence before finally making it known, whereas his disregard came and went with his personas as far as she'd experienced.

The pale Dark Elf crossed her arms as her radiant eyes beheld the revealed man beneath the helm for a moment.

At last, the Elf's arms uncrossed and her hands were planted atop her hips. "I am the living vessel of my Goddess, Dshara. She took me and made me Her's. Others of my Order took me away before the Final Sacrament where the Goddess would have been set free upon the world; but She is always with me. In a place such as this," Samara rolled her right wrist to gesture at their surroundings, "I can feel Her presence all the nearer. Some times I wonder if there is a place dark enough -- Deep enough -- She could consummate Her Will even from afar. Can you trust me, Cauldwin?" A small smile graced her black lips, but the slight lift to her cheeks befitting mirth did not accompany it. "In places like this, I can't even be sure whether I want Her to or not." The white rings shifted off to one side for a moment at the thought of seeing Dshara's face once more. To touch it. Feel the Living Darkness as it washed over her with the caress of the Goddess. Samara swallowed the lump in her throat before her eyes turned back to Cauldwin.

"So, what I'd like to know is whether you'd let someone like me remain alive and free? Because if we're sharing our secrets, I know there are many places that would try to burn me at the stake for what I just said. And I'd be forced to flee from them in order to spare them the horrors that'd befall them if they tried." Samara expelled an unnecessary breath for a moment's pause. "But this," she lifted both hands out to her sides, "is who I am now, Cauldwin. I am a monster pretending to be who and what I was before. If you can get passed that, you can trust me. I hunt others that would devour the world because that's who I was -- who I fight to remain."

"What about you? What does the 'Butcher of Alliria' seek?" Presuming the man didn't end this exchange as a result of what Samara had confessed, of course. It would be nice to better understand the man before her.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Samara had only spoken more of the same. Answering without answering, speaking of loss and victimhood. A prisoner of her goddess, a monster. In truth he did not mind monsters, the closest thing to a best friend in this world he had was what many would consider a monster. Cualdwin briefly thought of his old friend Sando, sipping blood casqued in wine bottles, watching over his girls at his bordello in the Arreck-Slums. He wondered what he thought of him now. "The butcher..." However this digression returned to the quandary at hand.

It wasn't the fact she was a self proclaimed monster that he had issue trusting her. Monsters have motives, hell most things have motives. Though motive is not the same as action, and her actions or her goddesses where ones he couldn't know if he could trust. His own had been very straight forward, a duty to order, to hunt corruption and chaos, and to stop for nothing... even former allies.

This confession of hers was equally troubling. There are plenty of times an innocent man can be sentenced on false crimes, however how could one know unless one was there? Beyond this, neither of them were innocents anymore, and without the information to judge he wasn't in any place to sentence. In any case it was time to answer her question...

"What do I seek? As in life as in death I serve as a watchman. I fight for what I believe in, something that unlike me: can't be killed. Justice, law and order, something even monsters can aspire to rise to. Regardless of how much the forces I tend to shift me. Something to cling to as the dark tears at me. Or perhaps your question goes beyond the surface? As to my personal ambitions? My darker motives? My petty desires? My history?"

He took a step forward, no threatening posture, no rage in eye, in fact there was a bit of compassion in his face. He spoke softly as they were now face to face. So close she could probably feel the cold, petrichor scented breath that escaped his serrated teeth, "The question I have for you is: do you really want those answers? You should know better than any, what is learned can never be unlearned."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

See how he ignored the question? He's not sure whether to kill or spare you. None of them are; and they'll succumb to their fears in the end. Were you hoping he might understand? I'm the only one that truly understands. The only one that cares.

How much of it was truth, and how much of it was her own selfish desires twisting what a fathomless entity tried to convey in just words or feelings? Were these Her words, or Samara's interpretation of them? To hear what she wanted to hear as twisted as it would be to hear it from the creature responsible for her new existence.

The Dark Elf stood still as she reflected back to her home. A place where she'd been isolated after her own discovered the vampirism forced upon her. No one trusted her. No one save one, and what did that trust earn them in the end? An unjust reward, no doubt. Samara hadn't committed the crime, but who would believe her? They'd let a monster into their presence and the only 'natural' consequence soon followed, they'd say. At least that's what Samara envisioned as she hadn't loitered around to find out moments before they executed her.

Silver-white rings stared up into Cauldwin's emerald eye as he drew near. "A Dark One has claimed my soul. I'm not afraid of what I will learn in this life -- only the next." A faint whisper of those days spent in Her presence teased Samara's thoughts. They brought with them ecstasy and terror in equal measure. To think of an eternity enduring such inspired as much lust as it did fear. "I was a student of the mystic arts, now I am a student of the world. So, yes, I will listen." Though given previous encounters, Samara stood ready to counter if Cauldwin tried throwing her through the portal a second time.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

He gave a sad scoff at her response, "So be it. I'm a son of Aliria. I was born on one of the three dark days of the year. I was a brawler in Barlow pit, those who fought in the pit... fought to death, but it payed well. Then I became a watchman. This armor, this once proud black iron was forged for me." He slowly offered his hand out to Samara, if accepted he would bring her hand to the symbol of the watch pressed into his breastplate.

He continued, "When I started I was so deluded as to the nature of my work. 'Glorious peacekeepers made on common man's allegiance.' I even made friends. Then my friends died, my only kin died. I decided I no longer needed to shield, and I found it best not to form attachments. My armor became like my second skin, almost all my time was spent in service. I even went days on end without food, water, and sleep of Aliria."

At this point he closed his eye. Concentrating on something, or seeming to work through some kind of pain, "I guess I lost track of what it was to be alive, I became a living weapon, a 'Golem'. Most watchmen who knew my face forgot it or had long since died. I was no longer just a watchmen. I was an undeniable enigmatic force, a terrifying sentinel to all that would dare threated her, that land... my home."
There was a pause here, as Cauldwin sucked in some air before continuing, "I was a deadly warhound for Aliria, and when I outlived my usefulness... it had me put down."

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

The Dark Elf's head tilted slightly as Samara regarded the man that offered his hand to her. It shouldn't surprise him Samara had to consider his angle in seemingly benign gestures. It only took a second before she reached out to place one of her white palms in his hand though. She might not know his thoughts, but she knew her own strength -- Samara would rely upon it if things took a dark turn.

Her eyes regarded the symbol he'd covered with their hands before her gaze returned to Cauldwin's face. The tale continued drawing on this or that of which she'd seen or heard in their time together. A different point of view, but the same story it seemed.

"So we are alike after all. I only escaped being 'put down' because I was framed for an assassination; I knew it was time to leave. Perhaps if they'd convinced themselves a Vampire could be useful in fighting the 'monsters' of the Spine I would have met the same end. Decades, centuries later someone might have decided I was more of a threat than a useful tool." A moment passed as Samara studied his features. "Yet for the tragedy, I do not find anything dark in what you've shown me so far, Cauldwin. What haunts you now? Is it lamentation for those you've lost, regret for not walking a different path, or was it what followed next?" She did not dismiss that Cauldwin suffered now, only sought to understand what he hadn't shared. Loss. Betrayal. These were wounds, but then why hide behind another name?

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

That wasn't the end of his tale, and that wasn't the extent of his loss. However what she had said bothered him. As he could tell they were very different She seemed to do what she does because she is compelled, for only her own purposes or that of her goddess. He at least did what he did because he chose it in the end, he did this by choice, however horrible, whatever the cost. He chose his fate.

His eye opened suddenly, and he spoke again, "Do you know how I died? They claimed I killed the innocent. My fellow watchman... hunted me. I tried to flee, I placed my faith in vampic woman I had assisted moments earlier. Dame Hieke...", He face twisted into a bitter sneer. "You can guess how that went. I ended up ambushed on all sides by the corrupt and the mindless... and I... I... Tore them apart. There were too many, I was overwhelmed, cooked alive inside my own armor by that bastard svlindrich..."

He seemed to loose his composure and footing, and quickly braced his arm against the wall before he would fall over, splintering and bending the wood, "In death I saw what I needed to, the man the beast, chained together... only in their final moments realizeing they are one in the same... waiting for the dark to take them. Then the Warfather found the- me. He offered me a choice,

(OOC: something from an old thread called winter where these final events happened to make Cauldwin undead.)

"CAULDWIN. YOUR LIFE HAS FLED."

"YOU HAVE DIED DISHONORED."

Dishonor, a fate a thousand times worse worse than death.

"I CAN NOT GIVE LIFE TO THAT WHICH IS ALREADY DEAD."

"HOWEVER: I CAN ALOW YOU TO COME BACK..."

"TO WALK AMONGST THE LIVING, TO EAT, TO BREATHE, TO SUFFER... TO TAKE YOUR REVENGE OR RECLAIM YOUR HONOR."

Existence as an abomination, for honors sake.

"...BUT ONLY IF YOU WISH THAT."

"DO YOU?"

How could he have refused?


Samara Asenta

 

[Samara Asenta]

The next part of his tale only seemed to draw parallels to her own. They were different, of course, and Cauldwin had suffered the more gruesome of the fates between them. Almost as though they two had taken different forks in fate's road -- one fell to their comrades that hunted them, and the other managed to escape their grasp.

Likely the vampiric boost to her physical capabilities had something to do with Samara eluding her own people. She really had been naught but a fledgling then, unable to tap into the full power of her blood; but it had been enough at the time. Escape must have been all the more difficult given Cauldwin's armor. And the betrayal. By a vampiric woman no less. Small detail, hardly worth mentioning until now.

Being cooked alive sounded horrific, of course. From Cauldwin's vocal inflections she imagined it was a trauma he had not yet forgotten. If this weren't such a serious moment for him, Samara might have traded horror stories with him. A game of who got the worse end of the stick around the camp fire later, perhaps.

"Turn on by those you fought along side in defense of your home is the greatest betrayal. For everything to be taken because of a lie and that your fellows believe this lie about you hurts all the more. And to be forced to defend yourself against them in turn," the razor's edge of clarity to Samara's white eyes could not soften, but her facial muscles could. An empathic marble statue of a woman who if frozen in time might make for a masterwork statue in a King's garden. "I'm sorry you had to live through that, Cauldwin."

Though, Samara was curious, "Why did the Warfather offer you that choice? And what were you sent back to do?"

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin snapped out of his manic melancholy. He was being manipulated. By the beast and this child of chaos. He snapped upright, fastening his helm back on in a single quick motion. He didn't need to answer her last question as if she could recall from when they first descended she would already have her answer. He stared down the vampire. Then he spoke, "You are not in a position to know of me, or question my trustworthiness. Not after what you pulled on our first descent. This entire mission has been compromised by your games and childish whims. For all your powers, your just another sick witch who takes pleasure from torment and domination. You play not just with out lives but that of the Falwood and maybe even the realm. Why should I trust you? Let alone want you at my side. And don't think about threatening me, girl, like so many of your ilk have. I've crushed vampiric lords into pulp... like grapes."

This sudden shift would likely be off putting to Samara, but it also would bring to her attention that her goddess may have pulled something prior, as well as make it abundantly clear Cauldwin is no longer playing games. He is not an unreasonable man, but his duties come before whatever her business is. She would need to take her next actions very carefully, as the rusted undead warrior is something even some legends in this world fear.


Samara Asenta

 

[Samara Asenta]

He should be groveling at your feet in gratitude that I was such pleasant company.

What Cauldwin said -- or threatened should she try anything untold -- didn't frighten Samara. One of her first encounters was being held captive by a nation engaged in a war with a neighboring Vampire Nation; a charge of a man or at a people that held the same claim. Everyone could kill a Vampire Lord, don't think too highly of herself, and so on. All that paled in comparison to the lack of mirth in the voice whose chilled whisper stilled the Dark Elf's very being. The man had not yet seen what she would do when amusement no longer held lease; and even some of her amusements were not discussed among polite company.

Slowly Samara slid the palms of her hands over her traveling outfit as if to straighten and dust it. It afforded her a moment to compose herself and steel her voice before she spoke again. If Dshara had manifested 'childishly' before then she could do so again less amicably; a matter that robbed Samara of the heat in her blood for a moment or two. "I am not a Witch, Cauldwin." Her hands lifted to straighten the collar of her jacket. "And I had no reason to threaten you, unless you use me like naught more than a tool again." A veiled threat she'd made earlier about potentially leaving him in some forgotten pit. It had been a deserved rebuke at the time.

"If you want a reason to trust me, how's bridging the gap between us and the heart of the void?" Samara drew in a breath and exhaled it. "You weren't in a very talkative mood before, so we didn't discuss this. Like your limb, I'm sure I have a way to get us where we need to go so this place can be dealt with and the Falwood made safe. Would that be enough?"

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Had she missed that him calling her witch was hyperabaly, or was she simply trying to say there was no wickedness in her? So much for being at peace with her nature as a 'monster'. However that was negligible detail at most. He wondered if she was brave or stupid, 'I had no reason to threaten you, unless you use me like naught more than a tool again.' He pressed his damaged arm deep into the wall, splintering the wood and dragging it closer to her head. "Don't test me."

"If you want a reason to trust me, how's bridging the gap between us and the heart of the void?" Samara drew in a breath and exhaled it. "You weren't in a very talkative mood before, so we didn't discuss this. Like your limb, I'm sure I have a way to get us where we need to go so this place can be dealt with and the Falwood made safe. Would that be enough?"

Something she had suggested at least twice before, something she had no issue going back on when her mood went a foul. "Really going to try that façade a third time? Fool me once shame on you, fool my twice shame on me, fool me three times... you don't want to try that. I have the tools I need, I have the method, and in all fairness I've dealt with worse wounds."

In fact, seeing as they were stuck in the blackened realm. Who was really trapped? Sure she could leave him in this little pocket separate from the rest of the wound, but that would still leave her stuck in the wound. Not to mention it would only be so long before he found a way out of the pocket, and when he did, guess what vampire who obstructed a Lawbringer from his duty would be actively hunted? That was if realized, and wasn't so full of herself to realize how bad of a situation that is.

Not only would she be hunted by her goddess but by a rampaging dauntless juggernaut, the Warfather, and any rust warden she has the misfortune of crossing. She may find some immediate gratification or at least success in the initial escape, but it would result in a much more miserable existence. A rust warden is not to be taken lightly, not just for the damage an individual can do by their lonesome, but by the fact their transgressions would be remembered by all others who still have connection to the rusted realms. It is much like making a wasp bleed. "It is not enough. I'm starting to think you may be more of a danger than the wound, so give me a reason..."

He was considering killing her now, but given the 'goddess' it was probably best to wait to take any such action after they closed the wound. Who knows what would happen if this vessel was destroyed and released the shadowfiend into what he could only believe was a well of power. The tense silence after is statement was interrupted by the loud hissing of smoke from the third decanter. He quickly returned to the alchemy bench and opened a the top of the decanter slightly to allow some of the pressure to release. He then allowed the decanter to pour in to the mold, the glowing green liquid snaking down the web-like paths into the center.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

"From what you told me, Cauldwin, I'm risking my soul standing here," Samara replied as the man turned back to tend his binding. "If I wasn't committed to seeing this through do you think I would still be here?" Of course, if Dshara were in the heart of this place -- the absolute worst case scenario -- then Samara wagered the two of them were dead in one form or fashion. Hopefully this place wasn't so detached from the world such a fate could befall them. "I didn't come here, on my own, to amuse myself. I hunt monsters that prey on the innocent, and if that means entering a void of dark energy and being cast about for Her amusement so be it." The last few words had been more bravado than truth. Samara would in no way be eager to fall into Dshara's tender mercies again.

As for being more a danger, well, if Dshara claimed Samara's body and got free of her living prison... Cauldwin was right. A Dark One walking the face of the world would be a calamity the likes of which were only vaguely spoken of in myth and legend. Not that Samara could express that openly seeing how Cauldwin was on the fence about killing her given any reassurance otherwise. Very likely would result in him killing her to spare them all the trouble later. Though Samara wish she could so he'd understand why the Dark Elf was so apprehensive.

"If you want me to find my own way across that void to prove I'm on-board with ending this Wound, speak it. I'll search for an object bound to this place. Perhaps I'll even come across the soul of the woman that drove the man mad in a pursuit of bringing her back to life." How did she know that? Oh, an Evil Goddess told her...

I could tear a woman's soul from her afterlife, bottle her, and let you present her to the man whose lamentation holds this place up.

Whether Dshara actually could or would do such a thing was only answerable in asking she do it. After all, a Dark One could lie just as easily as tell the truth. They had no compunctions about the treatment of mortals.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

He gabbed a handful of sulfur and dropped it in the center of the pouring mold. It erupted slightly with a poof of yellowish-green smoke before once again settling. "As I understand it Samara, you have a conflict of interest with that thing inside you." ,he then picked up a small metal bowl and scooped the green glowing ichor up. He then set the bowl aside.

"If you want me to find my own way across that void to prove I'm on-board with ending this Wound, speak it. I'll search for an object bound to this place. Perhaps I'll even come across the soul of the woman that drove the man mad in a pursuit of bringing her back to life."

He turned and looked back at her with his head tilted, "Deduced that part of the source of the wounds tale, have you?" He mumbled under his breath, "Well done..." Not that it would do her any good if he judged her to be to much of a general threat to order than was worth keeping alive, finding evidence: whether obvious or hard to find, would earn her some browny points with the rusted warrior It was likely though she was not permitted to study the sources journals, it was likely one so unhinged allowed his personal madness to bleed into his research. "Be that as it may, you can't be trusted to wander this place on your own. Besides, a perviar of forbidden knowledge will probably want to see this."

Cauldwin set the arm and binding agent out. He then began to remove the upper half of his suit of armor. First removing his helm, then his gauntlet, vambraces, armbraces, pauldron, and unbuckled the metal two metal hinges on the back of his iron chest plate. He stoped to explain, to ensure Samara wasn't getting the right idea, "To ensure I don't have anything else fused to my arm, I have to remove what will likely get in the way." It revealed the hardly tarnished steel chainmail hood and shirt beneath. He removed the chainmail hood and leather coif beneath, causing his mostly grey hair to come down with a floof.

He then removed the chainmail shirt, showing the worn, sun-died, yellow, long-sleaved gambeson shirt he wore beneath and the furs wrapped around his waist. Removing this revealed his horribly scarred, hairy, muscular body. Despite the fitness, his body could best be described as lanky and gaunt. His damaged arm was wrapped with a bandage that had bled through with the black tar. He unwrapped this revealing the sharp edge of the bone and the blacked inky sinew at the end of the joint.

He looked directly at Samara with a squint, "Don't take this too hardly, but I have to ensure your goddess dosen't toy with this next part." He knelt down to the ground and whispered something in Wiir, "Megi þetta vera griðastaður af vilja hans... (May this be a sanctuary by his will...)" The pool of black tar spread out in a sudden jerk, creating a black ring around him. A ward created by divine favor. He then stood up and grabbed his arm and the binding agent.

He poured the binding agent in a ring within the blackened one, then with his intact hand drew strange alchemical symbols with his finger, before pouring the remainder on the end of his arm and then the gauntlet. He placed his limb damaged arm near its missing part. The gauntlet began to shake violently, as the rusted iron around it warped around the skeletal hand. This was something not detailed in the transcribed instructions. Something was wrong, but he couldn't leave the circle.

Metal, blade-like claws formed around the fingers of the gauntlet, the palm hardened into a full metal jointed parts. The rough scorched metal around the damaged end melded into a smooth end. Then it stoped for a second.

Black iron rods violently shot out from the end of the gauntlet and into the damaged arm, going deep under the skin and muscle, Cauldwin did not flinch. The black iron claw fastened itself on Cauldwins arm, the dark tar dripping to the floor as it twisted itself into place on the damaged muscle that was now fusing with metal and dark energy. Then the circle went dim. Cauldwin stood up, and twisted his hand examining his now reattached part with some vague wonder in his eye. He twiddled the claws now attached to his hand, he then gave a sadistic smile.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

It ached with how much Samara wanted to reply in a drool voice, 'You have no idea.' Dshara wanted to escape her prison and begin corrupting the world in whatever way fancied her in any given moment. To be the world-renown Mother of Monsters once more. Meanwhile, the chosen surrogate vessel to skirt the line drawn in the metaphysical underlayer of reality by the gods wanted to do anything but that. It was an endless struggle as the Dark One's talons were deeply embedded in Samara's soul, but one far from being decided in either direction.

A sigh did escape her when Cauldwin said she couldn't be trusted to even find her own way into the heart of the Wound. "You're making it nearly impossible for me to prove I'm dedicated to the cause. If you insist I remain within reach, however," her words trailed off. The man probably wanted to keep her within the arc of his blade more than anything; and yet in suitably ironic fashion he'd seek to keep her out of arm's reach a moment later.

The Dark Elf watched the man undress in preparation to reattach his limb. This was forbidden knowledge?

That is what gets you labeled a Dark One, my Sweet. Exploring the vast, untapped potential of the world. Daring to flaunt the rules laid down by manipulative, controlling cosmic entities unworthy of thought or devotion.

Samara shrugged her shoulders before she crossed her arms as Cauldwin conjured a warding circle. "She is not a goddess of mischief, Cauldwin. She won't elevate the limb and have it sail about the room."

He's just upset I could bend this realm to my will so easily. Jealousy. You of all people, my Sweet, know how touchy academics can be.

Sure, probably because they had an evil spirit whispering in their ear about how touchy they were.

An eyebrow rose when the currents of energy seemed to twist as the binding was set in motion. Not that she could do anything about it being a powerless Elven witness. Even if the protective circle weren't present, Dshara likely could exude mystic influence given where Samara stood -- in the Wound near its heart -- but why? The fiend loved a good experiment, even if it went horribly wrong.

Often because it went horribly wrong, the voice whispered before a melodic giggle followed.

So, Samara watched as the metal twisted, bent, and formed about the bones and soon tore into Cauldwin's body to attach itself once more. Its appearance held a quality of corruption to it, if the man bothered to ask her professional opinion. Likely a natural byproduct of their surroundings and the nature of the reagent. Well, angels never showed up where they were needed.

"Good craftsmanship. Appears to have been bound successfully. How does it feel?" The Dark Elf hadn't moved from her spot. Her voice was of even temperament and steady pace as her white eyes beheld the scene. Yes, Samara knew academics quite well having once been a fledgling in such Ways once. Wouldn't hurt to gather a few observations regarding the success of what they'd translated.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

He stared at limb, lifting it- his hand above his head. The clawed digits refracted and made the sound of scraping blades as he flicked his fingers. It was surreal to him, he could feel the inside of metal and the difference in pressure as his joints moved, as if it really was his own flesh. It didn't feel like weight, it was almost natural...

"Good craftsmanship. Appears to have been bound successfully. How does it feel?"

He replied dreamily, "There were moments when I awoke, I swear I could feel my missing limb. I could feel it twitch, and ball into a fist when I entered the inevitable skirmish... even so, I never- I never expected actually having my left hand back would feel so- so... GOOD." He closed his hand into a fist, and then unclenched it, before steeping out of the circle. Dispelling it.

Samara Asenta​

 

[Samara Asenta]

"There's nothing like being whole again," Samara replied, though unaware that it was likely a resonance with Dshara that prompted the Dark Elf to say as much. "You were a fierce warrior with one limb, but two allows additional tactics."

"This will allow you to pass across the void and drawer near to the heart?" A seemingly obvious question, but then Samara wanted to check for any minor details that hadn't been shared yet. What with her being an untrustworthy servant of a dark fiend, or whatever Cauldwin privately labeled the only other living person present.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr

 

[Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr]

Cauldwin began to quickly redress, eager to use his reattached parts and see what havoc he could reek. "Indeed! Let us cleanse this malignant wound." He then gathered up his supplies and placed them in their various pouches and satchels before bringing his new hand down on the the alchemy equipment destroying it and slicing the wooden part of the tables midsection into three. He wasn't leaving any evidence of what had happened in here, nor was he passing an opportunity to see what his claws can do.

He then turned on his heel heading to the door. He stopped for a moment as if considering something duplicitous yet hard to turn away from. He drew his claws back, giving his clawed fingers a little stretch before tearing deep into the black door. Black energy oozed from the door as a the gateway opened once again. On the other side the same ancient, decerped wooden halls from their entry could be seen. He let out a giddy giggle at this, and then turned to look at Samara as if to say, 'Oh we are going to have such fun!'.

 

[Samara Asenta]

Mm, appeasing him, Sweet?

Perhaps she'd stroked the man's ego just a little. Cauldwin was more pleasant to deal with when he wasn't fixated on her own darkness. Seemed every time she brought it up or Dshara's power manifested the man's mood soured a hundred fold. It had done little good toward their working relationship; though he'd no doubt say the same of the entity that haunted her. "Let's."

A bitten tongue held back the sigh of the man destroying more of this place's relics.

Samara could feel the Dark One's arms about the Elf from behind with the weightless spirit observing the way Cauldwin played with his new hand. Of course it's okay when he has fun, isn't it, my Sweet? Bleed the darkness just a little bit. Giggle and make merry. Then off to the heart with glee and a headsman's ax.

A forced smile graced her lips as the Dark Elf watched Cauldwin amuse himself. The poisonous words touched Samara's ear in a way that she did not like -- that she did not roll her eyes or dismiss out of hand. An envy for such tolerated frivolity that had earned the man's ire because Dshara had done it.

"Won't know what killed him," she quipped. With that, Samara gestured for the man to lead the way through the doorway he occupied.

Cauldwin Talson Valfnyr