Really sorry about this, I underestimated the power of a packed schedule from continuing holidays. I'll start the next round later on today. I haven't posted in a year, after all! It's been so long!
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Next round later today!
Yep, winding down into the evening of March 2nd.
A happy holiday post! And happy holidays to all of y'all as well!
@Estylwen@ERode@Psyker Landshark
The imp would continue to dangle tightly in the principal's grip, motionless apart from the swaying movements of its captor guiding it along. There was no recognition in its eyes, no light - it was an empty doll, and no response would emerge from it when prodded. Raising it up, Raja would shake her head, crushing it further as she looked to Otis and Iraleth. "It hasn't been conscious since right before the Umbralist infiltrated. I've taken the liberty of placing a curse of paralysis upon it, such that much fun will await it should it come to and realize it can do nothing. I wished for more answers than what I received in my brief time with it, but should it not awaken by first light tomorrow, I'll end its life; though its true controller likely won't mourn it, wherever they are."
Taking a seat near the exit, the principal let the full force of her body lean against the back of the chair, exhaling deeply to relieve the stress from an unnecessarily long day. Her eyes closed, and she took in silence for the mere moment that she had it. Doctor Sylv would take this time to address Otis' question, continuing to look rather emptily at her petrified stub that was once an arm. "The extract was of my own making, as an attempt of my youth to counteract and cure a rare yet debilitating ailment named null disease, by applying and subverting it. It did not work, but in that failure, I discovered that the resulting serum would nevertheless allow one to temporarily gain essence removal and transference on a level greater than a dedicated eradicator," she would explain, looking to the floor where her arm was now a dust pile. "Though in exchange, the essence would need to go somewhere. An eradicator simply lives with days of sickness and weakness after a job from undesirable intake. In this case, my arm alone paid the full price for what an entire body normally would, integrating null disease's essence-ignoring properties to allow for a higher upper limit of intake. Yet because the diseased arm could not give any substantial output of nama or rupa, more effort would have been required on my end to make contact with the patient with my other arm, thus ensuring it would be more difficult to imprison the stagnancy into the arm I wished it to be in. Doable, but unnecessarily difficult with help nearby. And, as for the arm..."
Once again, Sylv reviewed her body with the same coldness and emotional distance she had always spoken with, prodding at her petrified shoulder. "I will simply acquire a new one, later. Efficiency requires sacrifice."
Near Raja, a small wind shifted, her eyes still closed. It wasn't something perceivable to a normal person, but one like her didn't rise to a place this far in the hierarchy through normalcy. It would be the slightest change in breathing nearby, the silent and subtle shifting of bed sheets and body weight - but not so silent as to escape her senses, as imperceptible as it would normally be - that caused her to twirl the tip of her staff in a small circular pattern before making a swiping motion with it. "Hand," she would mutter, eyes still closed, too exhausted to worry about meeting her opponent face to face that very second.
As Raja's utterance finished, a phantasmal hand would briefly appear near the curtains around Ciara's bed, before firmly pulling them aside in the same direction that the principal had swiped. In that same instant, all traces of fatigue had left the crimson sorceress - she kicked off the ground and had appeared by Ciara's bedside in a single step, her staff of swirling elements already charging mere inches from the shadow mage's face. Her expression could only be described as alive, so fiery with seething anger and murder, and... a small hint of pain, perhaps, were one to look deeply enough.
"Don't run. I know that's what your cult does best, but do not try to flee. An attempt to run now will seal your fate - I will find you, catch you, and kill you. You have brought enough damage to the innocent, Umbralist or no. Blood is on your hands," Raja would declare bluntly, unable to hide the resentment in her voice even as she tried to compose herself. "You will be dealt judgment by the Star Court and High Bishop Verne on the 6th of March, 9:00 AM sharp, in the Grand Cathedral of Nero. You may request an aide to take your side, though they must be faculty or attendees of Wingram itself."
If there were no immediate signs of hostility or sudden movements to indicate an escape attempt, Raja would lower her staff, the magics within the core dissipating. "All students of Compact 3 will also be required to attend. Partially under suspicion, but also that it was the High Bishop's own request to, 'get a gauge on the situation from the perspective of not just the culprit, but also her peers,' or something," the principal would state, looking towards Otis and Iraleth. "The church bigwigs just want to cover all their bases. Don't take it personally."'
@AThousandCurses
As Chunji delivered the news, he could see water welling at the corners of her eyes, but she quickly looked away, sniffling and rubbing her eyes. With a nod and a weak smile by her bedside, it was genuine gratitude that was painted clear as day on her features. Whatever talk had happened prior clearly weighed heavily on her mind, and it wouldn't take a master of perception to realize that, but the news of Davil's recovery had dashed away those fears for the moment. "I know it might not really mean a whole lot with how short a time the two of us have been acquainted, but genuinely, thank you for whatever part you played in helping. I am in your debt, as well as the debt of all at this clinic."
The girl stumbled out of bed and did the briefest curtsy she could in her gown, somewhat recoiling from pain of some kind but determined to ensure the gesture was completed with the grace she was proud of. "It wouldn't do to ignore this, after all. Nobility repays the commonfolk, you know? It's what we're good at."
A cheeky smirk would form on Chloe's expression as if to assure Chunji she was joking, though it faltered with physical pain she was only barely holding back. It was clear that a brave face was all she could put on right now, counting down the seconds of how long she'd need to maintain the act. Doctor Kann was nowhere to be seen, nor were any other assistants nearby.
"If... that is all for now, I'd like to get some rest. I heard some brief details of the attack, but I would like to hear more from you and the rest tomorrow, if that's acceptable."
WINGRAM CLINIC, ROOM 106
The imp would continue to dangle tightly in the principal's grip, motionless apart from the swaying movements of its captor guiding it along. There was no recognition in its eyes, no light - it was an empty doll, and no response would emerge from it when prodded. Raising it up, Raja would shake her head, crushing it further as she looked to Otis and Iraleth. "It hasn't been conscious since right before the Umbralist infiltrated. I've taken the liberty of placing a curse of paralysis upon it, such that much fun will await it should it come to and realize it can do nothing. I wished for more answers than what I received in my brief time with it, but should it not awaken by first light tomorrow, I'll end its life; though its true controller likely won't mourn it, wherever they are."
Taking a seat near the exit, the principal let the full force of her body lean against the back of the chair, exhaling deeply to relieve the stress from an unnecessarily long day. Her eyes closed, and she took in silence for the mere moment that she had it. Doctor Sylv would take this time to address Otis' question, continuing to look rather emptily at her petrified stub that was once an arm. "The extract was of my own making, as an attempt of my youth to counteract and cure a rare yet debilitating ailment named null disease, by applying and subverting it. It did not work, but in that failure, I discovered that the resulting serum would nevertheless allow one to temporarily gain essence removal and transference on a level greater than a dedicated eradicator," she would explain, looking to the floor where her arm was now a dust pile. "Though in exchange, the essence would need to go somewhere. An eradicator simply lives with days of sickness and weakness after a job from undesirable intake. In this case, my arm alone paid the full price for what an entire body normally would, integrating null disease's essence-ignoring properties to allow for a higher upper limit of intake. Yet because the diseased arm could not give any substantial output of nama or rupa, more effort would have been required on my end to make contact with the patient with my other arm, thus ensuring it would be more difficult to imprison the stagnancy into the arm I wished it to be in. Doable, but unnecessarily difficult with help nearby. And, as for the arm..."
Once again, Sylv reviewed her body with the same coldness and emotional distance she had always spoken with, prodding at her petrified shoulder. "I will simply acquire a new one, later. Efficiency requires sacrifice."
Near Raja, a small wind shifted, her eyes still closed. It wasn't something perceivable to a normal person, but one like her didn't rise to a place this far in the hierarchy through normalcy. It would be the slightest change in breathing nearby, the silent and subtle shifting of bed sheets and body weight - but not so silent as to escape her senses, as imperceptible as it would normally be - that caused her to twirl the tip of her staff in a small circular pattern before making a swiping motion with it. "Hand," she would mutter, eyes still closed, too exhausted to worry about meeting her opponent face to face that very second.
As Raja's utterance finished, a phantasmal hand would briefly appear near the curtains around Ciara's bed, before firmly pulling them aside in the same direction that the principal had swiped. In that same instant, all traces of fatigue had left the crimson sorceress - she kicked off the ground and had appeared by Ciara's bedside in a single step, her staff of swirling elements already charging mere inches from the shadow mage's face. Her expression could only be described as alive, so fiery with seething anger and murder, and... a small hint of pain, perhaps, were one to look deeply enough.
"Don't run. I know that's what your cult does best, but do not try to flee. An attempt to run now will seal your fate - I will find you, catch you, and kill you. You have brought enough damage to the innocent, Umbralist or no. Blood is on your hands," Raja would declare bluntly, unable to hide the resentment in her voice even as she tried to compose herself. "You will be dealt judgment by the Star Court and High Bishop Verne on the 6th of March, 9:00 AM sharp, in the Grand Cathedral of Nero. You may request an aide to take your side, though they must be faculty or attendees of Wingram itself."
If there were no immediate signs of hostility or sudden movements to indicate an escape attempt, Raja would lower her staff, the magics within the core dissipating. "All students of Compact 3 will also be required to attend. Partially under suspicion, but also that it was the High Bishop's own request to, 'get a gauge on the situation from the perspective of not just the culprit, but also her peers,' or something," the principal would state, looking towards Otis and Iraleth. "The church bigwigs just want to cover all their bases. Don't take it personally."'
@AThousandCurses
WINGRAM CLINIC, ROOM S-120
As Chunji delivered the news, he could see water welling at the corners of her eyes, but she quickly looked away, sniffling and rubbing her eyes. With a nod and a weak smile by her bedside, it was genuine gratitude that was painted clear as day on her features. Whatever talk had happened prior clearly weighed heavily on her mind, and it wouldn't take a master of perception to realize that, but the news of Davil's recovery had dashed away those fears for the moment. "I know it might not really mean a whole lot with how short a time the two of us have been acquainted, but genuinely, thank you for whatever part you played in helping. I am in your debt, as well as the debt of all at this clinic."
The girl stumbled out of bed and did the briefest curtsy she could in her gown, somewhat recoiling from pain of some kind but determined to ensure the gesture was completed with the grace she was proud of. "It wouldn't do to ignore this, after all. Nobility repays the commonfolk, you know? It's what we're good at."
A cheeky smirk would form on Chloe's expression as if to assure Chunji she was joking, though it faltered with physical pain she was only barely holding back. It was clear that a brave face was all she could put on right now, counting down the seconds of how long she'd need to maintain the act. Doctor Kann was nowhere to be seen, nor were any other assistants nearby.
"If... that is all for now, I'd like to get some rest. I heard some brief details of the attack, but I would like to hear more from you and the rest tomorrow, if that's acceptable."
Sorry, life stuff came up. Holidays sure are something. Next post tomorrow!
Next round tomorrow!
A longer one, but here we are!
@Estylwen@ERode@Psyker Landshark@AThousandCurses
Withdrawing a vial of bubbling liquid silver from her coat, Sylv would look around the room at those who seemed to remain as assistants, and then to the scowling Raja turning the corner and walking out into the halls, before turning back towards Davil's bedside. "Once this vial is consumed, time will be of the essence as mentioned prior. It can be done with my efforts alone, but any contributors will reduce the strain. Breaking the stagnant rupa is the goal, and once that is accomplished, the rest is simple."
The doctor would summon forth her Adapa and prepare a timer with one hand while uncorking the bubbling vial with the other. "Those willing to assist may do so by holding tight to the patient. He will require a vast offering of nama and rupa the very moment the stagnancy is broken, and you must all be ready to give a minor donation. There will be no long term side effects of this procedure affecting you all, other than a minor day-long bout of migraines and depression at worst. With that being said, we must begin."
After ensuring that those who wished to aid the process were making contact with Davil, the stoic overseer tapped her Adapa to start the timer, and simultaneously downed the syrupy silver. "As fair warning, the visions may be disorienting."
Sylv's right arm would seem to rapidly calcify, before overgrowing with dark, hardened scales. Pointed claws would overtake her hands, but with the same neutral expression she had carried this whole time, it was business as usual for her. To the observant, there may have been the slightest wince of pain for but a moment as the transformation of her arm completed, but it was only for a flicker before her stoicism returned. With no further delay, she would raise her clawed arm and plunge it towards Davil's stomach without hesitation - at which point, the vision of those assisting in the procedure would short out briefly as a pulse of essence range through them.
Apart from Sylv, all who participated would find themselves in front of a sprawling lake. The moon shone above in such a way that gave the water a crystalline shine, and trees surrounded them on all sides. Two figures of small size sat on the grass by the lakeside, dipping their legs in and out of the water. One of them was wreathed in a patchy cloak, gaze downcast at the water, attempting to shut themselves out from the world, but the other was clearly Davil - younger, scrawnier, but clearly the same boy. His gaze was focused up at the stars, resolute despite the bandages, bruises and scratches dotted across his body. Neither of them seemed to acknowledge the presence of newcomers, nor could those newcomers seem to interact with this environment in a conventional sense.
"If your house no longer has knights, I'll become the only one you'll need."
With a weak smile forming across his face, he stood and raised a stray twig to the sky. His arm shook such that even gripping it proved to be laborious.
"I won't be the best, and it won't be for long. But I'll throw my life away for that purpose!"
The obscured figure would slowly begin to raise their head towards Davil, and everything would fade away. The rest, from the perspective of the visitors looking in, was nowhere near as clear. It would bring about a similar feeling to the shifting from Castalia to Ascendia, with the same mile-a-minute sensation. It would feel as if it were a battle of wills, maintaining individuality and perception of the self amidst a blizzard of emotions and experiences. Glimpses of select moments of Davil's life would impact one after another - the boy sparring in the same courtyard time and again against various warriors, never once claiming victory. His will to go on wavered, weakening and strengthening as weeks passed into months and years, and yet he came no closer to what he could consider the power he needed. Even as a vision of crimson passed, no sense of fulfillment was felt. A recurring sparring partner lay dead in the courtyard at midnight, blood on Davil's curved blade, shuddering, and more importantly, the wails of concern from far off - from the one he loved unconditionally, so far away as to be meaningless. The man had ill intentions, perhaps? Or not? The boy could no longer remember, that night or any after, even as guilt gnawed at him. He was not good at dueling, in that moment of scarlet blur, as a knight was. There could never be a world where Davil Wund could fight.
He was good at killing.
As guards surrounded him with spears from all angles across the courtyard of the estate, his life over as they barked for him to drop the blade, his last thoughts were not selfless.
"I couldn't win, even once."
Thunk...
Thump.
CRACK.
All at once, the echoing thrums of a cracked shell exploded in the ears of the visitors. Reality had returned, and all were back in room 106 of the clinic to the sounds of the doctor's alarm droning on. Sylv's clawed arm was plunged into Davil's torso, and small tendrils prodded about him. Blood left him like he were a human faucet, but she persisted without remorse. "Stagnation has broken. Donate what nama and rupa you can, step back, and if you require it, compose yourselves and sit down."
After others had cleared the bedside, Sylv would all at once tear the scaled arm out of Davil and, in that same instant, use the tendrils shrouding it to grasp at the flasks she had placed, uncorking and dumping the contents of all three of them into the boy's open torso. Still maintaining a blank expression as it happened, Sylv's scaled arm would seem to flake and break off entirely, thudding to the floor of the clinic and smashing into a fine dust on the ground. A petrified stub remained where her right arm formerly was, though she regarded it with no particular interest. She would look across her assistants to gauge their physical and mental states, and state, "Mr. Wund will require constant bed rest for at least a week, but the worst has been tended to. Do any of you require medical attention?"
As she inquired, Davil's torso could be seen visibly sealing itself up. Ciara, for her part, would feel the jolt of an Umbralist’s presence near her. For the faintest moment in her mind, even in her dreamscape, she would hear the meek whine of the shadow imp exclaiming, “She’s going to kill me, she is… death of us all, that Raja! Death of us bloody all!”
WINGRAM CLINIC, ROOM 106
Withdrawing a vial of bubbling liquid silver from her coat, Sylv would look around the room at those who seemed to remain as assistants, and then to the scowling Raja turning the corner and walking out into the halls, before turning back towards Davil's bedside. "Once this vial is consumed, time will be of the essence as mentioned prior. It can be done with my efforts alone, but any contributors will reduce the strain. Breaking the stagnant rupa is the goal, and once that is accomplished, the rest is simple."
The doctor would summon forth her Adapa and prepare a timer with one hand while uncorking the bubbling vial with the other. "Those willing to assist may do so by holding tight to the patient. He will require a vast offering of nama and rupa the very moment the stagnancy is broken, and you must all be ready to give a minor donation. There will be no long term side effects of this procedure affecting you all, other than a minor day-long bout of migraines and depression at worst. With that being said, we must begin."
After ensuring that those who wished to aid the process were making contact with Davil, the stoic overseer tapped her Adapa to start the timer, and simultaneously downed the syrupy silver. "As fair warning, the visions may be disorienting."
Sylv's right arm would seem to rapidly calcify, before overgrowing with dark, hardened scales. Pointed claws would overtake her hands, but with the same neutral expression she had carried this whole time, it was business as usual for her. To the observant, there may have been the slightest wince of pain for but a moment as the transformation of her arm completed, but it was only for a flicker before her stoicism returned. With no further delay, she would raise her clawed arm and plunge it towards Davil's stomach without hesitation - at which point, the vision of those assisting in the procedure would short out briefly as a pulse of essence range through them.
Apart from Sylv, all who participated would find themselves in front of a sprawling lake. The moon shone above in such a way that gave the water a crystalline shine, and trees surrounded them on all sides. Two figures of small size sat on the grass by the lakeside, dipping their legs in and out of the water. One of them was wreathed in a patchy cloak, gaze downcast at the water, attempting to shut themselves out from the world, but the other was clearly Davil - younger, scrawnier, but clearly the same boy. His gaze was focused up at the stars, resolute despite the bandages, bruises and scratches dotted across his body. Neither of them seemed to acknowledge the presence of newcomers, nor could those newcomers seem to interact with this environment in a conventional sense.
"If your house no longer has knights, I'll become the only one you'll need."
With a weak smile forming across his face, he stood and raised a stray twig to the sky. His arm shook such that even gripping it proved to be laborious.
"I won't be the best, and it won't be for long. But I'll throw my life away for that purpose!"
The obscured figure would slowly begin to raise their head towards Davil, and everything would fade away. The rest, from the perspective of the visitors looking in, was nowhere near as clear. It would bring about a similar feeling to the shifting from Castalia to Ascendia, with the same mile-a-minute sensation. It would feel as if it were a battle of wills, maintaining individuality and perception of the self amidst a blizzard of emotions and experiences. Glimpses of select moments of Davil's life would impact one after another - the boy sparring in the same courtyard time and again against various warriors, never once claiming victory. His will to go on wavered, weakening and strengthening as weeks passed into months and years, and yet he came no closer to what he could consider the power he needed. Even as a vision of crimson passed, no sense of fulfillment was felt. A recurring sparring partner lay dead in the courtyard at midnight, blood on Davil's curved blade, shuddering, and more importantly, the wails of concern from far off - from the one he loved unconditionally, so far away as to be meaningless. The man had ill intentions, perhaps? Or not? The boy could no longer remember, that night or any after, even as guilt gnawed at him. He was not good at dueling, in that moment of scarlet blur, as a knight was. There could never be a world where Davil Wund could fight.
He was good at killing.
As guards surrounded him with spears from all angles across the courtyard of the estate, his life over as they barked for him to drop the blade, his last thoughts were not selfless.
"I couldn't win, even once."
Thunk...
Thump.
CRACK.
All at once, the echoing thrums of a cracked shell exploded in the ears of the visitors. Reality had returned, and all were back in room 106 of the clinic to the sounds of the doctor's alarm droning on. Sylv's clawed arm was plunged into Davil's torso, and small tendrils prodded about him. Blood left him like he were a human faucet, but she persisted without remorse. "Stagnation has broken. Donate what nama and rupa you can, step back, and if you require it, compose yourselves and sit down."
After others had cleared the bedside, Sylv would all at once tear the scaled arm out of Davil and, in that same instant, use the tendrils shrouding it to grasp at the flasks she had placed, uncorking and dumping the contents of all three of them into the boy's open torso. Still maintaining a blank expression as it happened, Sylv's scaled arm would seem to flake and break off entirely, thudding to the floor of the clinic and smashing into a fine dust on the ground. A petrified stub remained where her right arm formerly was, though she regarded it with no particular interest. She would look across her assistants to gauge their physical and mental states, and state, "Mr. Wund will require constant bed rest for at least a week, but the worst has been tended to. Do any of you require medical attention?"
As she inquired, Davil's torso could be seen visibly sealing itself up. Ciara, for her part, would feel the jolt of an Umbralist’s presence near her. For the faintest moment in her mind, even in her dreamscape, she would hear the meek whine of the shadow imp exclaiming, “She’s going to kill me, she is… death of us all, that Raja! Death of us bloody all!”
Next round later today!
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