@Irisity (Eslea)

The plague doctored ceased tinkering with the thurible, substituting the business of his hands with a more collected position. He intertwined gloved fingers in front of him, supporting what you supposed were elbows underneath all of that tunic upon his knees. He gently placed the bottom of his mask on the bridge of hands he'd made. "There is a lot of detail to it, but I'll make my point quickly," Dr. Rudhale said. You weren't sure if he underestimated your intelligence, your patience, or felt he was at great haste. "Only those of demon blood can summon demons. That is the role I require of you. Demon blood outside of the container is too weak a reagent for such sorcery." The bird mask shook, as if Thomas were remembering something. "I seek a specific demon, one greater than all others I've encountered. If he falls, so will many others. This is my request," Dr. Rudhale said. The dark holes in his mask appeared to enter your mind, your soul, your very being as they twisted at an angle. You could swear a pool of liquid began to collect underneath one of the eye holes before a glove slid across the mask. "You are my one chance," he added.

Thomas suddenly turned from you, looking towards the ranger approaching the bar.

@SmileyJaws (Balian)

The hunched figure straightened its back just as you approached the bar. Its beak twisted over its shoulder as it noticed you, still in observance. The inn held its breath as it continued to stare. "You noticed it too," Dr. Rudhale remarked, quietly but audible to a trained, Ranger's ear. The muffled voice was different, but not unlike a human beneath a gas mask. More monotonous than most, perhaps. Po, the Raven, proceeded to lower and raise his neck repeatedly. Was he nodding?

The ranger, deep in thought and now beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol coursing through his veins stared deeply into the grain of the wood that topped the bar. He thanked the barmaid and slid a few coins in her direction as she placed his tankard, filled to the brim, in front of him. His thoughts were lost to him, jumbled in his head like jig-saw pieces sprawled on a floor without the slightest inkling of how to start arranging them.

"You noticed it too."

Balian was drawn from his almost trance like state, surely alcohol induced, by the words. They were hushed but to his trained and tested ears audible and it was evident that they were aimed towards him. Head heavy, he fought against it as he brought his gaze to what he by now could only assume was a doctor of some sort. The ranger's expression remained blank for a moment before his lips parted and he began to speak, "Noticed what exactly...?". His attention was drawn to the raven's head movement and Balian's eyes narrowed as he wondered if the bird was nodding. As if it understood it's master? After a moment of reflection on recent events, he decided this was perhaps not the strangest of assumptions he could make.

There was something that felt off about the duo to Balian, but not necessarily threatening and so for the time being he decided to humor him. "Can I get you a drink?" He asked, waiting for the doctor to look away momentarily before glancing in his sister's direction.

So, she was a fellow witch, too? Rebecca sat up, intrigued. She didn't recognize any of the magical charms Ruehan wore, though she could feel the enchantments on them. Then again, she knew of many different styles of magic besides her own.

"What kind of magic do you specialize in? I'm a necromancer, myself. Shocking, I know."

Ruehan's companion walked off, though not without making a few disparaging comments as he did. Rebecca sighed. She'd seen this before, and she knew she'd see it again. "Ugh. More anti-undead bigotry. We're just trying to get by, same as everyone else."

Rebecca rested her hand in her chin, waiting for Ruehan to respond. Hopefully, she'd be more affable than her partner. She sure couldn't be any less.

Eslea

The only thing this world had ever asked from Eslea was her life and her sanity. She doesn't know what pushed her to react the way she did, or to accept her newfound heritage of a demon so fast as well, but she stood, her armor clinking. She set a hand on Ryder, her knuckles tapping against the hilt. "Show me how to accomplish this ritual," she ordered Thomas (@SmileyJaws). "I never want anyone to feel the pain as I have of a divided people."

@SmileyJaws (Balian)

"The Fleshwalker," Dr. Rudhale said, maintaining his hushed tone. "She is intertwined with dark magics. I know not what binds her, but it is of unnatural origin." The doctor tapped the beak of his mask to his shoulder, roosting on it as a support. He was deep in thought. How hallow was this ground, if at all? Why did it deter the rotten horror that chased him, but allowed occult magic on its ground? The idea of illusions became a stronger possibility. And Thomas was in the heart. The doctor reached into his suitcase and pulled from it a stem with several, light magenta bulbs sprouting forth from it. He plucked them from the stem and grounded them up between his palms. Opening the thurible, Thomas sprinkled the ground petals into the collected ashes. The smoke pouring forth would be white, almost strangely pure in its color. It was Fumaria. Its purpose was to purify an enclosed space and deter shrouds or nefarious illusions. "A tea would be nice," Dr. Rudhale said.

@Irisity (Eslea)

The doctor spent some time turned about before he returned to face you, a pure, white smoke now pouring out from his thurible.

"I never want anyone to feel the pain as I have of a divided people."

"It may be too late for that," Thomas said. He returned to his suitcase as he often did and pulled out a black, thick book. The pages were yellowed with age. The cover bore a red symbol upon it, etched as if someone took a knife to the material and dragged along its surface. Its presence made the heart beat faster. Dr. Rudhale took to the pages with his dancing, gloved fingers. Each finger flipped an individual page. The maneuver was so quick, one might miss it if they blinked. Finally, upon a certain page, the bird mask remained transfixed upon the inscriptions. He gently shut the book and placed it back into his suitcase. It snapped shut. "Not here. Not now," he whispered, hushed by his mask. "Nobody may read this aloud. Not until proper preparations are made. I must train you." The doctor craned his neck about the inn, watching each individual move.

@shagranoz

"Kind of magic?" It was a term that confused Ruehar, where she was from all magic was regarded as magick and it wasn't segregated or differentiated. "I like making potions and poisons, I like to learn as much as I can about magic and spells." She noted Rebecca's comment about Balian, "That's my brother, I'm sorry about that, I have no idea..." She trailed off wondering about her brother's strange behavior herself. It was strange to Ruehar as well, something undead it seemed wrong, the work of necromancers and such was a dark art, punished harsher than the rest back home.

"Maybe we can learn something from each other." Ruehar took another drink from her tankard finishing it in one and then relaxing back into the booth. The fatigue of the journey really catching up on her. "So, what brought you here?" She asked, her curiosity peaked.

---

@Whimsley



"Fleshwalker." Balian repeated, scoffing at the terminology. "Unnatural is right." He added out of earshot to Rebecca, while maybe not seeming it understood the man in the mask. His sister had taught him a great deal about magick, even though he possessed no natural talent for it himself. A lot of what he knew just came from her ramblings in time spent around each other. The ranger gave the man a once over, he noted that he seemed to be pondering on something, lost in thought. He looked on as the man performed what appeared to be some sort of ritual before deciding to engage and break the silence, "Balian." He introduced himself, hand outstretched.

"You know, different specialties. Some wizards are great pyromancers, but awful with divination, for instance. Magic is such a vast discipline, that there's no way one person, or even a god, could ever hope to know it all."

Rebecca slumped a little bit in her seat when Ruehan asked what she was doing here. "I'm on the run. Back home, when I turned myself, they figured it out. They had the the stake and the bonfire all set up, from what I hear. Made my way here, and now I'm looking for a way to put silver in my satchel and a roof over my head." She gave her fellow witch an expectant glance. "You wouldn't happen to have any work available, would you?"

.