LadyRunic

[High Casual to Low Advance] [18+] Wide array!

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Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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Faeril Ashkevron

Present Day
Location - Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi

Interacting with @13org

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The Ice Healer, as some had nicknamed her, chuckled lightly. There was still a hardness in her blue eyes that gave made folk all to aware of the coldness she cloaked herself in. "I am well aware of your limitations in time, Prince Mikhail. No, your treatment will take time but it will not take so much you live out your life as my test subject." There was a wicked glint in the woman's eye as one corner of her mouth turned up into a sly smirk as she looked towards the door that opened up into the main hallway that ran through the eyrie. "I have Gennar for such things." She called with a slight edge of annoyance to her tone.

The said Eyrien Warlord lounged outside in the hall and was looking in with a face that was falsely innocent. "Did you need something, Ashke? Or can I rescue that poor fellow from your clutches?" The witch looked disgusted with the man as she slid the web and it's container into a large cabinet that took up one part of the stone wall that was in actuality the mountain itself. Flicking her wings that rustled with a irritated noise, she flicked a hand is dismissal. Grinning Gen pushed his luck as he moved to lean in the door frame. "Does this mean you're going to rest?"

"I do rest. Now shoo." Faeril's blue eyes narrowed at the larger Eyrien, her fingers poking him in the chest as the man merely arched a eyebrow. He was well aware he could have a snaketooth sink into his skin through his shirt and that would most likely be the last anyone ever heard of him. Still he just gave his younger friend a sweeping bow as she slipped away to begin another aspect of her labor. Most likely to tend to her garden, Gen hoped. It would do her good to stop spinning the tangled webs and seeking a hope that would come when it came. Turning his attention to Mikhail he offered that the Dea Al Mon follow him with a jerk of his head. "Suppose you could probably do with some food after that? I'd make Faeril something to eat, but the woman would only toss it off the side of the mountain." Outright grinning, the protector of Faeril Ashkevron offered a hand. He had been there when Mikhail had come to the house but maintain the presence of a brooding and vicious Warlord. "Gennar Saroth."

Winged Boar, Aren, Askavi
@Slim Shady @Zoey White
Denvar gave a slight nod as the Sapphire Warlord Prince nodded to him, offering up a name that made Denvar question the wisdom in letting him cross paths with Faeril. While she wasn't family by blood, she was treated as such by his brothers and himself. So it was only natural that Denvar was worried about letting a Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince that could well wring his sister's neck without much trouble aside from what Faeril would do. Wincing at what Faeril might do when faced with healing and aiding this man, Denvar nodded back as he fought to catch his breathe. He wasn't so young as to be a fool, but both his brother and he were older than Faeril in years. Mentally? He wouldn't lie. He was a randy youth who danced on folly's line a few times too many. One of the reasons he had been punted down here by a snarly Healer who was sick of him getting underfoot for trying to help.

"Denvar." He offered in return. Xandar was not a common name, but it was a well known one. The twisted pets of Dorothea and Askavi's queen Ollirian were eager to catch the man alive. He had too much power to waste and would make a better trophy alive than dead. If he bent to their will? They would have a weapon that could even match the infamous Sadist potentially. But then Eyriens thought they could match anyone with their legendary arrogance. Looking at the woman, he prepared to cover the exit if need be and prevent escape. Though it was doubtful she would make it that far.

Randalvar, being a wise and thoughtful individual who was rather tired of building replacement furniture for his bar, subtly cast a Purple Dusk strength shield over his bar that only was a hairs breathe from the wood. A second shield blocked off the door that lead into the kitchens where his granddaughter was. Protective in his nature he was loath to let even a potential fight reach the last of his bloodline. "Might as well go with 'im, lass." He advised while placed a clean mug on the shelf behind him and began wiping out another one.

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille
@SilverPaw
The Prince said little more aside from nodding absently. It wasn't that the man was trying to be rude, but his misery was just so deep. There were a few like him, broken from within though their Jewels were still whole. As the Jandar finished with his meal the same witch did appear and quickly whisk away the remains. Given the amount of people in the inn, and the several other serving ladies and lads that were also acting in the same nervous manner, meals were streaming out of the kitchen just as fast as they could get the plates and utensils clean. While weather like this was not particularly good for the false business Jandar was about on, it was very good for the inn. They would sell many rooms and most likely spaces on the floor this night.

The crowed let 'Jean' pass without much trouble save for the occasional shove back and cursed insult for his own rude passage. It was with luck that no one challenged the Warlord as he made his way after the maid who only appeared to grow more nervous as she noticed her tail. While fighting his way through the throng of bodies, Jandar might notice a man leaning by the hearth. His mop of black hair combed back away from a too pale face and a nose that had been broken before. A predatory smile gracing his lips as he smiled nastily towards the Kaeleer native. Though there was a sickening approval in the man's eyes.

The door to the kitchen was being opened and shut regularly so when the Warlord knocked it didn't take long for a older woman with stern features and wielding a ladle to open it. Her dress was stained and dusted liberally with flour despite an apron and her iron grey hair was pulled back in a tight bun. The White Jeweled cook regarded Jandar with cold gold eyes. "Can I help you, Lord?" Her voice was polite but terse and trimmed with an edge of fear. While he delivered his message, she studied him closer. Behind her Jandar would see a bustling kitchen with the heavenly smells of baking bread and stew to fill the air. Giving a annoyed sniff, the witch nodded slightly. "Thank you, but I would advise you leave my kitchen be. You are slowing us down." She snapped sharply before quite firmly shutting the door without slamming it. Startling several servers who had been hovering just out of reach while Jandar blocked the entrance to the kitchen.

One witch with a Opal whispered softly to Jandar as she squeezed by him to the door. "Don't mind Cook. She's just busy and you gave Alda quite the fright following her." Shoving a carrot into his hands under her tray, she gave Jandar a tired and weak smile. "Go feed your horse, and stay in your room before you attract the wrong sort of attention." With the last whispered word of advice the witch darted into the kitchen, as someone shouted within the domain of 'Cook'.

Queen's Residence, Eldan, Hayll
@eclecticwitch

A timid knock sounded on Fatima's door before a timid maid entered. While her mother had been a hard and demanding woman, Fatima was much easier to work with- for the most part. The young Queen was quite odd, but she was not cruel or over demanding like some of the other queens were in Hyall. Chewing her lip, Illyria stared at the bags that were partly packed while trying to figure out what exactly to say. It wasn't her place to say anything at all, but she had heard the plans while she had been sweeping out the hallway and well that just wasn't proper at all!

"My Lady, I might know someone... Though, I beg you swear on your Jewels to never repeat this to a soul?" With large and frightened gold eyes, Illyria absent began to organize the packs. Her gaze darting between her task and looking up at Fatima. "It- You say you are travelling?" Randomly redirecting the conversation, the tiny maid was worrying her lip bloody with nerves "Where to? If I may ask that is? My apologies, but Lady we cannot lose you!" There was true fright to the maid as she gripped a tattered dress in both hands nearly wringing the poor thing lifeless. If it had a life to start with.

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine & Ayita Dyrkin

Location: Sub-Basement - Operating Theater

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Richard tensed in his desire to stand against Remy's insults. Bully Marygold?! She was the one who reduced Ayita to tears! "Shove a card up my ass, I'll just come back to hit you harder." Richard hissed, ignoring the stabbing pain as he yanked a startled Ayita to the side. "If you so much as suggest my sister is a bully or raise her voice in her direction again I'll=!" He grunted as Ayita shoved him back down onto the table, and none too gently either. Glancing between the two snarling men, Ayita studied them with a odd look in her amber eyes. Giving a odd noise that sounded like she was choking, the woman devolved into a hapless heap of giggles and howling laughter. Richard watched in utter confusion as his sister- who had been ready to go on warpath- was reduced to a tear of laughter. "What the bloody hell?" The former assassin murmured as he peered down at his baby sister.

"Two!" Giggling as she had fallen against Richard's table, Ayita was barely keeping her feet as she tried to catch her breathe. Gasping for air, the woman tried to explain herself between gales of snickering. "If anyone had said, as I suspect you said to him, to me would you not be reacting the exact same?" The wild woman quirked a brow.

"I would not. Don't be preposterous." Richard huffed with a fearsome glare that did nothing and only aggravated Ayita's case of the giggles.

Bobbing her head up and down in disagreement, Ayita burst into a gale of high pitched yelps before subsiding to giggles. But there was a serious note in her voice, that even giggles had a hard time taking away. "I was controlled when I set you after the thorn-tongued one. The pain was no less real, but..." Ayita shrugged and tilted her head, not looking at Remy so much as the girl he sheltered. "You both might as well lay them out on the table and measure them, or so my mate would say. Let the females deal with their own problems between each other." Clapping her hands over her mouth, Ayita fell to a bout of howls and cackles. Richard merely rolling his eyes and grumbling with distaste.

Finally Ayita regain some control of herself though the odd round of laughter broke through. The two were very similar in her eyes, and perhaps that where the problem lay for her and Marygold as well. Though it was not, and did not excuse the words Mary had said to her. Words that struck her deeply. "I will speak to Marygold however, there are words that still need said. I do not pretend to be anything but what I am." Ayita's laughter had fully subsided. Now there was a pained expression to her eyes as she seemed to shrink within herself. "I am shifting and constantly torn between the human and the creatures of earth, land, and sky. I do not expect others to understand, yet have been gifted with a few who do." Giving Mary a stern look she pointedly raised her ringed hand. "Death is not a joke to me, it never has been. I now have a mate- a husband-to-be- to stay alive for. I will kill to protect him and the cubs we will have."

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine & Ayita Dyrkin

Location: Sub-Basement - Operating Theater

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Richard gave a short and pained chuckle. "Snake Man? Close enough, Card Man." The Adder wrapped a arm about his middle, feeling the loss of a kidney at the moment. A body battered and injured and all he could do was lay about. Which wasn't improving his mood in the slightest. He wasn't angry per say, but rather peeved and Marygold had crossed a line. That line's name was Ayita, and for his sister? He had done a lot already.

"If you want to get all properly serpent and all things snake-like... I'm more of an Adder. Proper English Slytherin." The former assassin chuckled at his own little joke. Though he sobered at hearing Marygold's tears. He wanted to rip the girl a new one, honest as the sky was blue. Though he was loath to place the blame all on her if whatever issue Ayita had with the red-head was mixed up with the recent bout of mind control. "And I'm not going rip into her, for now anyways. But I am going to find out what she said exactly to my baby sister to make her cry and come to me." There was a fearsome glint in Richard's eyes. "Ayita has had enough of that in her life, and I'll be damned if she has to put up with more disdain from within this little group for what she is."

"I should be used to such things as of now." The woman noted dryly. "I will hunt this prey down better when I am bandaged- as much as I dislike it. It is not a choice, it is a necessity." The wild woman slipped through the door into the crowded medical room. An 'operating theater'. Humans and their naming of things. Studying the crowd for a long moment she dismissed each. A hand gripping Carolina's shoulder and releasing it quickly as she passed, her strides taking her to her older brother. "Richard." The woman sighed and gripped the man's face as she studied the snake-eyed man who was her kin.

Richard chuckled and shooed his sister's hands off, noting the burns and cuts on her skin. "You're injured." Who? He wanted to ask the question, but Ayita was glanced over towards Jean with a shake of her head.

"Leave it. The bastard Mesmero got into my mind." Richard paused as he heard the pure rage in Ayita's voice. It was not common that Ayita let that rage focus on someone other than herself. Oh, she could get annoyed with people and dislike them. But to outright hate them? The Adder shruddered as he read the predator in his sister's eyes. She would not stop til the blood of Mesmero was staining the ground. Not with a lover up North, a brother in the South, and friends all about. He almost wanted to smile, as Ayita moved to forage for supplies to tend to her wounds.

Looking over at Marygold, Ayita pointedly ignoring the 'leader'. Though she was sure to make damn sure that ring on her finger was gleaming bright. Old and worn it might be, but dammit all! It was hers! Damon was hers, and she was his. That kept her from turning and demanding satisfaction from the weeping little bundle of prey. Returning to her brother's side, she pointedly placed herself between the Adder and Poison Ivy. Not to protect her form him, but so that she would have to go through Ayita to get to the only family aside from Allison and her mate that Ayita had left. She had found nothing to help her own wounds, so she cast her amber eyes about before lighting on Jean. "What might help for the burns that your mate inflicted when I was rampaging?" Her brother stiffened but understood the termage. Rampaging... Ayita had given him the info he needed. That she was alive was testament to the fact she had been turned away and not so badly injured because of that.

Ω Heroes of Olympus: The Next Age of Heroes Ω

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Athanasia Theroux

Location Courtyard of CRS

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Looking about the small interior of the equipment shed, Athanasia furrowed her pale brows. There was no way her small form would lift those heavy weights easily, she was ten and small at that. Wishing she would hit what her mother called a 'tillväxttid' already and reach a proper height, Athanasia peered up the ladder. "A trap is always fun." The sweet smile of the young half-blood's face was far from innocent as she considered the second floor with a wicked gleam in her black eyes. "Roman already wants to make me into gryta. Stew." She corrected herself absently.

Sizing up the basket ball, she snickered slightly. There was no other term for the noise and it wasn't exactly to Athanasia's standards of 'proper behavior'. But sometimes manners would have to wait. Like when you got caught in a storm or mother was loosing her temper with some idiot. Or you had a trio of one eyed cyclopes after you. A truly terrifying fact, but she had to be perfect. Had to be strong and beautiful and brave. Very brave, because she had said she would be. But her voice shook slightly and her eyes were too wide as she tried to give herself a look of confidence. "I think I can lure him. And I'm small, I'll be hard to get a hold of. Better yet... I have been insulting him." Giving a shrug to Kiera, the pale hair ten year old grinned with a evil delight. "Oh la! This will be as fun as planning out all those little pranks!" Athanasia pointed out as she tried to shove back the fear she felt at this bad situation. "I wish my friends from New Orleans were here, they were always full of ideas." Athanasia huffed with some annoyance.

[High Casual to Low Advance] [18+] Wide array!

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Darke Magyk - Concluded

I, LadyRunic, am hereby leaving Darke Magyk due to differences with the gm. I love being able to Rp with all of you and it had it's moments but it is a sad fact that this RP just is not working for me. I am just out of the loop here, the odd duck. Something that has become more obvious as time has gone on. My apologies for any distress that this will cause or issues. If the GM would like I will remain to keep playing Richard for this arc but that is all. As much as I hate walking away, as much as I would like to keep trying. You can try to shoehorn a dragon into a barn but that doesn't mean it will fit. It's more likely to eat all your animals and then set the building on fire. So, while I wish it was otherwise I am withdrawing from the Rp. I wish you all the best of luck and have a fun time. I'll really miss playing Grimspound and Skaoi (Especially that I'll never get a chance with Granny Dyrki!), but I can always find another Rp for them perhaps down the line. Best of luck -Lady R

X-Men: Cosmic Crusades 👽

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Richard Laine

Location: Sub-Basement - Operating Theater

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Richard gave a low groan as Remy and Rogue argued. "Wouldn't mind some morphine myself. Or a stiff bourbon." The Adder sighed in true annoyance at the fact acohale was a bad idea. With a missing kidney he would have trouble filtering the toxins. "Then again, I want answers as to why she said what she said to Ayita."

Noting Carolina, the former assassin did a rough head count of the room. His side throbbing from having a organ ripped out. To say he was in a bad mood was a understatement. Ayita had been hurt, he had gotten a kidney ripped out and now people were being freed from a mind controlling goon. "Had anyone seen that sister of mine? Shaggy hair with feathers and beads? Shifts into different creatures?" As much as he wanted to go look himself that wasn't about to happen in his current state.

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Ayita Dyrkin

Location: Ayita's room

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Ayita shrugged through the pain though it wasn't easy. Making a mental list of who to swing by before she picked up the trail of Mesmero, the shifter found her way blocked. A shield of sorts and the being interfering was a odd concoction of wires and metal. Her amber eyes littered dangerously. Considering the last time Ayita had been around a metal robot it had tried to kill her, her wary nature was understandable. Though as the being began talking Ayita lowered her arm from her quiver. "What are you?"

It was a rude question, but Atita was no longer playing games. Marygold had said she needed to leave people alive. Because they were supposed to be better. Yes, she could see the reasoning behind that. But there was the matter that this Mesmero could and would strike again. That he could put her pack at risk. Something Ayita could not allow. Though as she considered it, she did see the point of forestalling her hunt. Cyclops lasers had burned her and her body ached. While loath to see the trail go cold, she would be able to hunt better with her wounds tended to. Slipping past danger the woman jerked her head in a silent order for the metal woman to walk with her while answering. Making her way to the operating theater, Ayita unstrung her bow and began planning the death of Mesmero.

Blood's Jewels (High Casual Fantasy Revolution)

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Arc I - Terreille in Trouble

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Faeril Ashkevron

Present Day
Location - Ashkevron Residence in Aren, Askavi

Interacting with @13org

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The woman merely nodded as she tied the strings that would hold the web close and slid into a wooden tube to further protect the delicate spell. Faeril had her own reasons for wanting to keel Mikhail near and it was not merely in his best interest. As a Black Widow and one of particular skill she had kept herself alive despite the pet Queens of Dorothea seeking out her sisters to ensnare into their courts or execute for defying them. A wonder they had never come knocking on her door, but with her Aunt's death Faeril had never advertised what she was. The people of Aren had aided as well by carefully turning away those whose interest was less than business. The village did not have a direct Queen holding her hand over it and all the better for that small blessing. Randalvar in the Winged Boar was her primary source of customers. The old warrior had a sixth sense about people and if they saw her of went missing he made sure he didn't know enough details to say more than they had left his bar- alone. If Gen or one of his brothers had followed them out...? Well, Randalvar made a point not to notice, he did have his tankards and glasses to keep clean. The man was as stoic as they came and if rumors were true he had a bigger bone to pick as he had, potentially, been a lover of her aunt before the woman's death.

That was neither here or there, however. Turning her blue gaze that spoke of ancestors that were not of Eyrien or the long lived races, the Black Widow and Healer studied the assassin offered his services. "Your services will do for a time until the treatment is complete." A wiry smirk that was far from comforting gracing her lips as she arched a dark brow. "After all, you will be staying here for a time and need to maintain your keep as you will be eating my food and needlessly drinking my ale. There is plenty of firewood to be chopped and mulch to be made." The woman pointed out while her smile turned to something more jesting. "When you are healed we will speak of your payment." And may the Darkness be merciful and let the one she was waiting for reach her before then. At the end of the day, this entire business would garner her nothing but it would potentially fuel the fire for hope and vengance, which would be enough.

Winged Boar, Aren, Askavi
@Slim Shady @Zoey White
Rnadalvar studied the man who walked into the tavern, his psychic scent screaming Warlord Prince as he scanned the room before finally choosing a seat at the bar. Though the words the man spoke stuck the old warrior like a blow, though the neutral face turned grim as he turned away from his customer to release the tap on a keg of ale and let it fill the freshly cleaned glass. In truth the man needed a moment to collect himself after the ground had been swept out from under him. Handovar had been a good fighter and a strong Warlord. Wearing the Summer-sky while being a fighter was dangerous and he had said as much. Foolish boy to ignore him.

Setting the tankard in front of the Eyrien Warlord Prince, he noted Denvar's pointed look and gave a muted shake of his head. This wasn't an enemy. The name Xandar Markov was well known enough from how the Eyrien Queens railed for his capture, sending men out after him and promising rewards that anyone would crave in times like these. Denvar settled back in his chair, raising his ale to his lip and taking a long draw from the tankard. Turning his gaze back to the rogue Warlord Prince as a woman slipped into the tavern, the grizzled old warrior slid a second, less clean tankard down to the woman. A woman bearing weapons at that. He briefly considered letting Denvar take that one up to Ashkevron's residence to see what their local Black Widow would think of her. "He fought bravely and died for his cause. An Eyrien's death." The man stated firmly as he let loose a brazen chuckle at the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince's reaction to his neighbor. The man was wearing a Sapphire Jewel Randalvar noted. A wise move while in town. Picking up another tankard, the old Warlord began cleaning it out again. "If yer looking for somethin' you might want to go talk to the cringing bastard in the corner. He'll take you to our local Healer." There was a strange glint in the man's eye as he chuckled darkly. "The Lady will put you to rights. One way or the other. Though you may not like how 'right' leaves you." Keeping to the Eyrien tongue the grizzled old man continued. "An' take this here lass with ye. Aint normal for a witch to be carrying weapons. The Lady will want to have a 'chat' with 'er." Denvar gave a choking cough as he sat up, his feet thudding on the floor as he glared at old Randalvar.

Root's Teeth, Dhemlan Terreille
@SilverPaw
The Root's Teeth was a well cared for establishment if only because it seemed to house mainly the aristo in the seasons when the pens outside would be full and the witchblood would bloom. In it's off season it was a rest stop, a place where the Blood could pause in their travels for a roof over their head and a warm meal. However, Jandar would get the barest of hints of a underlying psychic scent that would seem off though he could not pin it down. Even in a tavern full of people while a storm howled outside there was an air of unease. The landing web outside was mostly clear now as the last stragglers dropped from the Winds and moved inside the Root's Teeth looking for room and board. While the storm may cause trouble for others, it was a blessing for the inn.

The man sitting next to the Warlord was a Prince his Tiger-Eye Jewel worn openly as was typical of the Blood. It was how their intricate game of power was played. A well kept man though his clothes had seen better days and the weight hung off him as though he once had more weight than he did. "Most likely it will blow over by the morning." The man stated with a dreariness in his voice. "I don't know how the Eyriens stand it up in their mountains but they weather storms like these for fun." There was a edge to the Prince's voice as he stared blankly into his tankard. A young witch stepping carefully behind the bar shakily set a bowl of stew and a tankard of ale in front of Jandar before retreating with speed though trying not to run or garner his attention.

The crowd behind them shifted about as people vied for rooms, a small finger moving through the opening and closing gaps. Jandar would notice the figure heading to the door facing the stables. A quick entrance for the grooms and such. Their clothing didn't appear to be worn so much as ragged and patched. The black hair and gold eyes of the long lived races were prominent features that were easily noticed before the figure slipped out the door.

Queen's Residence, Eldan, Hayll
@eclecticwitch
The Master of the Guard gave a predatory growl deep in his throat as Fatima ordered him to wait and bide his time. Waiting for their people to be stronger. This made the Court shift anxiously. They were far older than Fatima in general, and they highly doubted there would be any 'thriving' for this village. Durik, for one, was moving into his twilight years. The grey of his black hair showing in threads here and there. The Steward had seen the rise of Dorothea and had not opposed the woman, ensuring his own safety in fact, as well as those of his brother's family. That said brother was buried in some unknown grave, having been a tool in a game between queens. A pawn that had been sacrificed. His nephews had too been pressed into joining the Courts, despite Durik's best efforts. His sister-in-law and her daughter had been plucked away powerful Warlord Princes. The Steward didn't bother to think upon their fate, it was an unwelcome thought and only served to weigh him down with guilt.

Wrapping a strong arm about Fatima's waist, Beneth gave Hynter a sneer. The other Summer-Sky Warlord looking away as to avoid a fight with the Opal Warlord Prince. Heaving a sigh of relief Durik looked over the books Fatima had procured. These were battered copies, but the idea was a decent one. "The problem also lies with the fact the land is dry." It was not Durik who spoke, but his second- and soon to be replacement- Garren. The Preist was a quiet sort, with a long face and longer limbs. Looking enough like a crane that his White jewel was nearly over looked. While he was not a powerhouse, Garren was clever and could keep a book nearly as well as the aged Durik. "Drained." The man stressed, his hands emphasizing his point. "We can plant and grow, and try all we like. Let our land heal, and our neighbors will come in and take it." The soft voice was bitter, with good reason. Garren had suffered under Fatima's mother. Often being sent off to appease the neighbors. Neighbors he now loathed.

Durik nodded in reluctant agreement. "He has a valid point, Lady." The Steward said carefully. "But these beans will help, and the mine can be staffed by those- relocating- from other villages." Beneth was shaking his head, but Durik already had a counter to the worry of a threat slipping in. "Several of our folk have moved away to find only ill. What harm would there be in welcoming them back? Surely it would curry good will?"

It was the second eldest of the group, Jassen, who rubbed a hand through his own slightly grey locks. "If only we could consult the tangled webs." His cheeks were red and blotchy from drink as his words bordered on outright treason as he spoke of how the Black Widows looked into the void of time. Jassen had become a drunk in the past years, attesting a relationship at least on his end.

Darke Magyk - Concluded

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Skaoi Silverveil

[center][color]Location: Manuscriptorium[/center]
[color]Skills: [/center]

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The Darke section was a place Skaoi did not care for in teh slightest. Grim magics were best left alone and the physik had very little desire to be looking about upon these shelves. But if it was what must be done to cure the Sickenesse, then it was the least of what she could do. Her duty was to heal these people after all. Not for the first time she rued being dragged from the Forest to work in the Castle. The Forest had offered some anomity and a life that went unnotice. Here there were grand folk around every cornere and were it not for Prince Myrus, Skaoi would have long begged her leave.

That was the hinge of tings was it not? Prince Myrus was a kindly child taht needed aid to control his mutant powers. Something she specialized in doing as her own negated his. Scanning the shelves the physik looked at a lost as to what she was actually looking for. "I-If you could?" The pale Eastern Snow Plains native looked with a apologetic glance to her guide. "I don't quite know where to start and there is quite a bit of material..." The physik admitted as she pulled a likely title from the shelf. "I am looking for any referrence of the 'Burning Fever', 'Sleeping Dead', anything about Witch's casting plagues or Darke Wizards doing the same." The woman offered weakly, her voice hushed as though the wrong word would awake the darkness upon the shelves.

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Richard Laine

Location:Wizard Tower - Entrance Hall

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Richard studied the Mistress of Lies with a annoyed look on his face. "Runa. Lance. Kiera." He greeted with an annoyed note in his voice. While he did like Thor- and the man was a welcomed addition when he had poker nights- the Asgardian children were a bit of a thorn in his side. Children raised to be gods... It was enough to put someone off religion. Then again he had never been one for such things in the first place.

Raising a dark brow, the Adder cared little if they were so powerful. "Now as Mistress of Magic surely you know the magic word, Runa darling, to ask my wife to do something?" The 'former' assassin chided with a lighter tone. "Though I do have a soft spot for children so I won't refuse." Dropping his lighter demeanor it because dangerously honed as he narrowed his eyes at Kiera. "What do you mean Vanished? And what is this Chthon? Refreshed this old man's memory." This was a danger to his family and he well could understand his sister's rage all those years ago when she had fought for her own.

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Grimspound

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Location: Outside Wizard Tower

Skills:

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Grimspound groaned in annoyance and pain. A mixture he was used to growing up among his clan. "Very brave? Hardly. I was polite until I mentioned her being daft. Set in her ways as she was it was no less than the truth." The Dyrki man winced as he moved his neck and felt it throb with a steady ache. His back would be one big bruise in the end. While he had grown up in the Land of Long Nights and respected the gods, he had more respect for his clan. They were a traveling bunch and didn't necessarily stick the ways of the land. Which was probably why it was best his grandmother never come across any gods or goddesses. Someone would get hurt and there would be a smoking forest and vast battle that would be a slaughter.

"Just because someone is Vanished, does not mean they cannot be unVanished." The man pointed out as he rubbed his shoulder. "Death is only certain when you have seen it and felt the life leave the body. Chop off the head for good measure, or so says my aunt Askra. But theoretically anything that can be done, can be undone. It's just a question of how to do it and if it is wise to do it. The latter of which- luckily for you all- I am lacking according to the vast majority." If no one denies this, Grimspound gives a weak chuckle which makes him wince in pain. "Healing- please. If I die, my grandmother will kill me."