[RP] Black and Blue

[karnath]

Seeking for the cure in alchemy

[Rigwyn]

Nice logs Karnath 

[Rigwyn]

     "The Amdemnier Gazette..", Rigwyn said has his eyes scanned the page from side to side - slowly making his way down the page. He was a amused at first, then utterly shocked upon seeing his name. "That bastard!" he thought as he continued to read Hirihi's accusation. Balling the paper in his fist, he threw it into the furnace then walked away as he wondered who had written such trash.

     He stopped in Kada El's for a good stiff drink then began to rant as he spoke with one of the patrons. Not long after, he heard a Klyran voice. He turned mid-sentence to face the man. Within seconds it became obvious that he was not only a member of Hirihi's little back-yard militia, but that he was the one who actually wrote the paper. With an exchange of words, he reached over Luckely and smacked the klyros in the side of his head with an upward stroke. Not really caring who heard him, he berated the reporter for his work - demanding that he either fix it or take it down.

     As Luckely and Phadraig tried to calm Rigwyn down, the Klyros left. He could barely finish his drink - appalled by the man's tactless use of his name, and Hirihi's vile tongue. His composure returned over the course of a half hour or so, then finally he paid for his drink and left.

     As he stood in the plaza, he saw the Klyros reporter again. He followed him - walking slowly at first, then breaking into jog finally a full blown chase. They raced though east Hydlaa, until the reporter finally ducked into Jayose's library. Knowing that Unto was right outside and in shouting distance, he stopped and waited in the foyer.  Moments later the reported attempted to leave but was stopped in his tracks. Face to face, they stood in the foyer until Rigwyn spoke. He offered to make Sserp a deal - one that he could not refuse. They left the city to discuss his offer.


     Outside the rock entrance, they spoke at first. He was vague about what he wanted, then began to talk about his Master's staff that he had received while training. He pulled it out and held it forward as if offering it, then quickly cast a spell. Seerp fell to the ground as a dark cloud surrounded him - sapping the energy and strength from him. Within seconds, Rigwyn was on top of him with his knees in the dirt as he grabbed the Klyro's hand and fingers. Flexing them against the joints, he began to lecture him about the value of fingers.

     "I Said I would give you something. I'll give you your ten finger if you comply."

     With that, they made a deal under duress. Warning the reporter that he would not just cut off, but break each and every finger if he didn't deliver, they parted.

[karnath]

Sserp being cursed
Text of the curse

Eonwind commentary on Stellans curse and cure

[Rigwyn]

Nice to see such creative ideas! Keep it up!   

[Sserp Detaicossa]

Fun stuff! I've never enjoyed being cursed so much in my life. 

[Rigwyn]

OOC NOTE:

For those who have caught the disease, below are the details describing it and how its spread.
Please note, this is Out Of Character information.

OOC NOTE REGARDING KNOWLEDGE OF THE DISEASE

When a disease breaks out, we typically do not know about it until after the fact. People start to suffer with symptoms after a number of days. It is not always obvious that one is sick because of their symptoms. For example, one might hallucinate or vomit for any number of reasons. Similarly, the source of a disease cannot be assumed - in real life, we can only guess at a disease's origins.

HAVING FUN

The point of this is to have fun, so let the sickness affect your character and those around you if you choose.

HOW DOES THIS TIE INTO THE STORY?

You shall see.. I've been holding back on posting for the time being so as not to spoil any surprises.




FINALLY, FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT

I couldn't help posting this song
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_wA5NmQESx8

[Aramara Meibi]

Can I ask that you clarify some things about this plague?

For instance, I've heard varying reports about people being cured in a large variety of ways, some plausible and some less so. I can understand your reasoning not to release this sort of information OOCly, to avoid those cases where a character just happens to know exactly what to do even though they should for all purposes be ignorant. But it leads to inconsistency in the roleplay.

Maybe if you give us some information on the infection. Is it Viral or Bacterial? Of course our characters shouldn't know what a virus or bacteria is, but treatments for one shouldn't necessarily work for the other.

Your note calls it a supernatural illness. That implies magic or other forces are involved, so is magic necessary for the cure? and if so, what kind specifically?

Also, does death cure an infected person?

I'm asking these questions because I have an infected character and I wish to play it out accurately. I'm sure there are others who wish to do so as well.

Anyways, it's been a fun RP all the way around! Thanks 

[Eonwind]

OOC NOTE:

For those who have caught the disease, below are the details describing it and how its spread.
Please note, this is Out Of Character information.

OOC NOTE REGARDING KNOWLEDGE OF THE DISEASE

When a disease breaks out, we typically do not know about it until after the fact. People start to suffer with symptoms after a number of days. It is not always obvious that one is sick because of their symptoms. For example, one might hallucinate or vomit for any number of reasons. Similarly, the source of a disease cannot be assumed - in real life, we can only guess at a disease's origins.

HAVING FUN

The point of this is to have fun, so let the sickness affect your character and those around you if you choose.

HOW DOES THIS TIE INTO THE STORY?

You shall see.. I've been holding back on posting for the time being so as not to spoil any surprises.

great work and great fun! 

I have some question about the disease you may be able to answer
Me and Karnath we have done many exams upon ill people ranging from medical exams, nature intuitions, blue way to discern any possible magical aura upon the patient, coupled with master level knowledge of possible kark way effects

I resulted that the disease is magical and looks like a sort of "curse" can you confirm that?
thank you!

[Rigwyn]

@Aramara:

[ I like to leave the solution/resolution up to those affected since everyone will have different creative ideas for curing victims. Some folks will want to be cured right away, while others will enjoy letting it linger for days or weeks. To answer your question directly, I would say that a good cure would be one that calls upon medical treatment, magic use and divine intercession ( Calling upon a god or using a priest/priestess of a given god/goddess for assistance ). This is a good opportunity for those who RP healers and religious figures. ]

Hunger
By Mariana and Rigwyn

Rigwyn wandered towards the Laanx temple in hopes of finding a robe or staff to loot. He slowed as he came to the entrance. A rather mangy looking woman was crouched to the side. She was scrawny, with a strip of dirty cloth wrapped around her chest and cut off just at the edge of her ribs to show that her stomach is quite concave. Her legs stuck out of her dirty trousers - cut off at the knee to show the emaciated condition of her shins. Her hair was a tangled mess, the green locks greasy and altogether unattractive. Her cheekbones stuck out prominently as well. She was sickening to look at, but she had an air about her that stole his attention. He approached her and saw that she was indeed as mad as she looked. Lacking poise and grace, she scampered around like an animal - running rather than walking, cackling and mumbling darkly. Before long, he had dangled a torn piece of meat before her and had discovered that she could be coaxed into doing tricks. As a test, he told her to run into the plaza and smack someone. Sure enough, she did as she was told and returned for her treat. For starvation is a powerful motivator, and one familiar with the harsher cruelties of reality an effective numbing agent. The nolthrir was sickly and weak, but in her weakness there was a strength. The type that people get when they realize that things cannot get much worse, so you might as well embrace your own squalor, because certainly nobody else will love you in spite of it. So when the Diaboli with unkempt dreadlocks and a yellow smile promised more food to ease the aching in her stomach, certainly, she agreed to keep an eye out for him, when next he came calling. She wandered restlessly after he had gone, had enjoyed this unexpected break in the depravity that was her existence. Sometimes she rectified her boredom by jumping out at people in the alleys, shrieking and waving her wraith-like arms just to see the terrified look upon their faces. Of course, once they realized she was little more than an impoverished wench there was usually a blow or two involved. Not that it mattered. It fell upon insensitive skin, and she reveled in the opportunity to sulk along and stalk her momentary prey, to deliver a bit of terror and for just a moment feel slightly relevant in the great big thing called the dome. At least to one person, anyway. There was recollection of a time before this one. An important time. She did important things. Necessary, she was needed for something greater, and there was a burning, a beautiful burning that made the passions of things like love look silly and negligible by comparison. But that time was over now. She was a wisp, a thing no longer valued, not needed. And so she stalked, and sulked, and waited for Rigwyn to return.

And soon enough, he did.

With a "Psst!" he caller her, then dangled in front of her, another piece of meat - torn and grizzled, packed with scent and flavor. Not quite the generous type, he dangled it before her as a kore Fenki silently pressed herself against a wall in a nearby by alley. Unaware of her presence, he taunted, "I have a nice meaty little treat that will make your pouty little lips smack. Come with me and ... feast.. like never before.."

He smiled once more, the ghastly image far from pleasant. "Yessss," she hisses though her teeth. "I will follow you, dark wanderer, down where you are venturing. Adventure and intrigue galore, is that it?!" She cackled as her excitement grew. "Is that what you entice with, food, or intrigue?"

Not wanting to tip his hand, Rigwyn let out a devilish smile as he spoke. "Oh, I can't begin to tell you what treats are in store for you, chosen one. Quickly, lets go!"

She followed him, of course. She had no reason not to. Desperation is potent motivation. She was under no pretense that his intentions were actually good. No, her mind may have been lost, but the tiny sliver of sentience she still possessed proclaimed loudly that this encounter could not possibly end well.

But she followed him nonetheless. Past the gate to the Ojavedan road. Even when he tricked her, pushed her down into some undisclosed tunnel and into an underground abode, she was unconcerned. Even when she made her way towards the eerie altar and took in the sight of daggers on the walls, she did not care. The prospect of death was not important to her. She could sense in her bones a purpose here, reminding her of the time when things were relevant. When she was not simply the wraith that danced among the alleys and reminded people what it was like to be impoverished.

She stood grinning like a fool.  Deeds to do, yes yes. Things to make transpire, yes! No sense of self preservation was there left in her. She awaited Rigwyn again with smiling lips, cracked and bleeding, dancing and shifting eagerly from one foot to the other. Dark things were coming. Gloriously dark things to banish the light that had so righteously scorned her. Bring the reek and rot! The whole damn lot! Cezote is ready!

And she was reduced to manic cackling once more before the makeshift alter.

[Timil Deeps]

Whoa... freaky... atmospheric... and very descriptive! I love it! 

[Rigwyn]

Heh heh .. Everyone's participation and acceptance of this storyline has made it a fun event so far.  Yall have made it seriously fun for me.

May you all be felled by the black plague!   

Whisper Bless!
Rigwyn

[Rigwyn]

Mother Death, Bearer of New Life

     Having shoved her down into the hole, Rigwyn gave his fellow rogues a nod, then climbed in after her as the smell of roasted porg fill the air. Guile and Pilfer cackled as he climbed in, perhaps thinking that she was the latest Outlaw. They couldn't be more wrong.

     With promise of a feast, Rigwyn lead Cezote deep into the underground fort to a balcony over looking the main room. At the far end was an altar that was hastily prepared. Attached to it were a set of manacles, and to the right sat a small wooden table lines with an array of crude metallic tools: Small sharp knives, tools for grabbing, pinching, and tearing, clamps and long, sharp slivers of steel. Trying not to look too anxious, he whispered,

     "Come now dear, I have a table set for you; a feast has been planned for the two of us."

Cezote grinned with a yellow smile as she practically sauntered down the stairs, taking them two at a time in her eagerness, nearly stumbling over her own two feet. She snickered to herself as she moved, her wild hair askew and flying, her cracked lips glistened with drool and a manic glint in her eye.      "I'm so sorry it appears to be just us two. I expected a full house. It seems this shall be a very ... intimate meal ... should you want to call it that."      Cezote ran her tongue across her lips and turned her head, squinting her eyes, sucking in her cheeks so that the circles beneath them grew more pronounced. "Eh," she said. "I suppose you're cute enough for that," she said, the jest in her tone clear. She sashayed up to Rigwyn and moved her hand to pat him on the breastplate.      Placing his hand over Cezote's, he let out a most insincere smile, then pointed to the table before the podium. "You still want the meat now, do you? Be a good girl and face the podium."      Cezote's smile took on a fierceness of its own. There was something knowing about it, something eerie and off. Her tone dipped low, grating and gravelly, so odd coming from her frail and feeble form. "A trickster trickster is he, the man with angry eyes and hollow heart. What plans he has, what webs he weaves, a dark and devious art. Believe him? I don't. But care do I? No. We will play his game," she wheezed now, as though it was difficult to breathe. "We will plaaaaaay his gaaaaammmmeeee." With that, she turned, and faced the podium as instructed, her head jerking back and forth and her body following suit in a twitching motion.      Rigwyn walked to the wall and lifted a sturdy wooden club from it. Feeling its weight in his hands, he looked back at Cezote and began to chant out loud, "You who call us into darkness, hear my prayer."      Cezote heard the club as it came down from the wall. She was aware, at least vaguely of Rigwyn's plans. Her lips formed into a soft 'O' and she began to sing to herself again, high-pitched, probably pretty irritating. "Summoning the darkness is he now? Plans for Cezote, does he have? Bad ones for poor little Cezote, heeheheee!"      Rigwyn took the edge of the club and raised it as if about to strike her head, then stopped in thought. Seeing how she had complied, he began to wonder if any force would be needed at all. After a moment or two, he said calmly, "Lay down up on the altar and prepare yourself. You have been chosen for greater things. You shall bring about my master's plan."

     A knock echoed though the underground fort. Annoyed, Rigwyn turned sharply, then barked, "Lay down! I'll be right back!" Withins seconds he had returned with a fenki by his side. She was the only other guest who had shown up for the ritual, but it would have to do.

     As they returned to the altar, Cezote continued to giggle to herself. "Oh, oh, important!" She said, her head bowed slightly, her knees wobbling at the very thought. "Cezote is important. The master's plan he says! A dark master he follows, dark deeds he has planned?" She coughed, the sound rustling like old dead leaves, as she moved towards the table Rigwyn indicated. She shifted to her knees, and then to her hands, finally lying flat against the hard surface and curling up in a fetal position. "Dark things," she whispered. "Cezote knows about the dark things. Oh yes, yes she does. Cezote knows."

     Thidin crosses her arms "What is this?"

     Rigwyn knelt down and grabbed a thick, steel shackle that dangled from a long, thick chain connected to the altar. He placed the clamp against her ankle, then clamped it shut as he asked Cezote with a darkly affectionate tone, "Is that so deary? You know of dark things? Do you know of he who whispers in the ears of the enlightened? Of he who is all powerful and who will bring this world to its final stage?"

     Thidin's words stuck in Rigwyn's head. He looked over his shoulder at her and replied to Thidin with a grin, "This young lady has been called to serve. I received instructions to perform a ritual. I need your help. We have ALL been called to serve this very night."

     Thidin stayed in her place. "I'm not really a helper."

     Cezote looked towards Rigwyn, her face tilting as the shackle clicked into place like the final warning before a coming threat. She smiled, that face-splitting smile, blood stains present on her teeth as though she had been biting her tongue. "Ohhh," she said. "Yes yes yesssss, you follow the darkness, is that it?" Her pupils fully dilated, her eyes gave the illusion that they have turned totally black at the corneas. "Important things for dark masters, is it? The games we play, the games we weave, the darkness, the fire, yes, yes!" She burst into a fit of laughter that caused her to convulse.

    Hearing Thidin's unenthusiastic response, Rigwyn shouted, "Two must perform the ritual, I cannot do this alone! This is extremely important!" He turned back to Cezote and grabbed her other ankle as her body convulsed and jerked. Almost fighting her, he strained to clamp on another cold steel shackle.

    Unmoved, Thidin replied, "I'm not amused yet Rig. tell me more."

    Cezote stopped her seizure-like twitching and stills, her chest rising and falling, her stupid grin pointed at the ceiling as though she didn't have a care in the world. Her hand flashed out as if to grab one of the Diaboli's dreadlocks as she lifted herself closer as if to intimate some kind of secret. "You need better friends in crime," she said, before laughing loudly once more.

    Concerned with Thidin's unwillingness, he continued to try to persuade her: "The work that our master started in Kadakaios needs to be resumed. The bearer has been called, she lays here in waiting. She will spread new life to all of Yliakum, she will be the very mother of what is yet to come." Affectionately, he stroked Cezote's face as he felt her pull against his hair.

    Thidin looked concerned. "Her?"

    Cezote made a face at Rigwyn's proclamation. It quickly dissapeared at the touch of his hand, and she gave a puzzled blink at it, not used to contact that doesn't come with a slap, a hit, with pain. She squinted her eyes in mild suspicion even as she smiled hesitantly, and gave another raspy chortle, her fist still locked in Rigwyn's hair. "Not mommy material, no no," she joked.

    Thidin stepped forward to gain a better look at Cezote.

    Rigwyn cackled as he stared coldly into Cezote's darkened eyes, "Oh yes, her. She has been called to be the mother of the new life. She who will chew and gnaw upon the sick, and spit upon the rich. " Feeling her tug, he yanked his dread from her hand and muttered, "Worry not."

    Thidin laughed a bit at Rigwyn "And what? Are you the seed to bring this new life forth?"

    Rigwyn reached for Cezote's hands and began to guide them towards the manacles behind her head as he looked at Thidin and sneered, "No, the seed so to speak is not within me. Please, dim the lights now, and you shall see."

    Cezote pulled her hand back against her chest and frowned up at Rigwyn. "Not worried," she replied, and her tone, strangely, indicated a truth in the statement. "Cezote knows about the dark things, she knows. Sick he says. He wants to spread sickness." Her eyes turned to steel, her lips formed silent words, until her tone dipped low again, as if to intone prophesy rather than ramble incoherently. "Wants to see the rot in himself come out in others, he does. Wants to see it form, wants to see it everywhere. All he can see, isn't it? The darkness."

    Cezote's arms stretch upwards, as even if she wanted to resist, she couldn't. Rigwyn's strength far outmatched her own. Soon she laid completely immobilized, and looked around with wide-eyed wonder. "Wants to see it," she repeats. "Wants to see it everywhere, he does."

    Thidin sat in chair nearby, rather reluctant to help out.

    Consumed with the mother of new life, Rigwyn said in a cooing, nurturing tone, "Thats right my dear. I want to see you flourish - to blossom with the Whisper's greatness. Give me your hands now."

    Cezote cackled. "Ooooh, the flame he follows. Does he feel the darkness burning him, can he see the light leaving him? Does it tear at him, tear at his insides, tear at his mind?" She gave Rigwyn her hands, and as she moved closer again. "You want to know a secret about fire?"

    Rigwyn took Cezote's hands and clamped them into the manacles, then whispered, "Yes, tell me a secret."

    Cezote put her lips by Rigwyn's ear, her breath no doubt a rather unpleasant stench to tolerate. "It likes to leave ashes," she whispered. "From dust to dust. Ashes you will be, as I am. See your future now, Diaboli. The time will come for you." A wheeze from lungs already infected with something, and she fell back on the table, gleefully laughing even as tears begin to congeal in her eyes and trickle down her face.

    Rigwyn stroked Cezote's face once more, then slapped it harshly! "Enough! Its time prepare you!"

    Thidin rolled her eyes at the girls words as she watched Rigwyn.

    Cezote's head shifted to the side as a result of the blow. Ah, this is what she is used to, and it phased her about as much as water would a fish. "Oh oh, going to pretty up Cezote are you? How kind of you."

    Rigwyn drew a staff from his sack, then raised it. From it a thick black cloud raced. It resembled a wraith with sickle in hand at first, then rapidly spread and dissipated choking out all but the faintest trace of light.

[Rigwyn]

Broken Starphires

    Cezote's nose wrinkled in response to the thick smog. She stuck her tongue out of her mouth as if to taste it, then drew it back in with a rapturous sort of shrieking laughter. "Ohhhh," she said. "Tastes bitter. Like medicine."

    Thidin tilted her head as she watched, amused by the almost performance like nature of what is going on.

    Rigwyn bellowed as he threw a hand full of fresh starphire flowers upon the floor as he continued to address the diety, "Oh master, accept this offering, this symbol of pain which we have offered for you and you alone. We ask you to accept this gift of suffering and hear our prayer."

As he prayed, his mind drifted as he recalled each and every account of the pain that was inflicted for each starphire. There was the Dermorian who went by the name Ketta, a Fenki named Icerra, a traveling comedian named Falc Loret, Evirea the annoying klyros with her strange text book, Mishka the fenki with the golden spectacles. A bitter taste began to rise from the back of his throat. There was Thidin - who stood beside him at that very moment; well, her suffering was needed - a tear is a tear. There was the barmaid in tattered clothes from Ojaveda and Sacho the menki. That was only eight;  high priest Osofus demanded exactly ten beatings. He smirked to himself as he thought, "Screw it; its close enough."     Cezote continued to laugh softly to herself, rambling nonsensical things, babbling on and on about flowers and pain and the never-ending dullness and irrelevance of it all. "Dust to dust, dust to dust, dust in your eyes and your face and your hair. Shame, shame, a terrible shame, in your nose and your toes and despair, despair!"     Thidin looked at the shower of flowers upon the floor is a distasteful manner, growing to disagree with this even more.     Rigwyn stepped forward, then planted his boot atop the pile of flowers - crushing the starphires beneath his boot as he gave his hip a twist. It was not so much the starphires that were being offered, but rather the pain and suffering from the beatings.  Unknown to him at the time, each beating was to be a precious gift to the master.  The starphire itself was merely a way to make that fine gift of suffering that much more tangible.      Leaving a trail of sickening trail of darkness behind, he waved his staff over Cezote as he hollered, "Accept this woman as the bearer of new life, and bring upon her your sickness and your plague! May she be the instrument of your destruction, the very tool that causes all life to cease once and for all!"     Cezote's eyes followed the erratic motions of Rigwyn's staff. "Desperate he is, she has nothing else. Alone, alone, let all others be alone. Bring the darkness, bring the sickness, bring the things he wants to see. Slithers out from slimy places and slithers back to flee the light. Kill the light, kill the life, kill the things he doesn't like." Her mantra began to cycle over and over again.

     Rigwyn placed his staff upon the floor and knelt. From beside the altar, he reached into an ornate, silver pail and took a out large sliver of rotten, diseased meat. He dangled it tauntingly over her face. With a sinister grin he shouted, "Take this my dear and eat it. This diseased flesh shall give you new life! Life that shall cleanse Yliakum once and for all!"

    Cezote stared up at the flesh. Her nostrils flared at the stench of it, though she was used to such rotted things by now. She opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out again. As she did, Rigwyn's hand clenched - squeezing the rotted meat's blackened juice onto her tongue and cheeks. "Death he wants, death is life. Silly man, silly man, but that's what he shall have. Death, it is. Death you sow, death you reap..." Her mouth opened and her head jerked upwards to take a hefty chunk out of the rather...questionable meat. She chewed without the slightest grimace, and swallowed, smiling again to show bits of sticky flesh still stuck between her teeth. "Now Cezote is dead. Does that make Rigwyn happy?" She cooed. "It does, it does, it makes him happy."

     Rigwyn grabbed a long, steel needle from the floor. From it a long, filthy thread dangled. He held the point to her lips, then whispered, "Mother death, this new life is not enough, I need pain. I need you to suffer first. " Waiting with the needle in his hands, he slowly began to bring the point to her lower lip.

    Cezote giggled. "Pain, he says. Death is not enough! Wants to see his own pain in others, wants to see her writhe and chock on blood and b..." She let out a hissing sound as the needle pierced her lip, and blood pooled downward onto her gums. She pouted ridiculously. "Owie," she said, like a child that just got smacked for disobedience.

    Rigwyn pulled the twine-like thread though her lips. The flesh jerked as the thread snagged against it, then creased painfully with each forcefully tied knot as he sewed her bottom lip to the top. Passionately, he whispered, "You, mother death, will spread this plague. You will sicken those who you meet, spoil what you can, foul the water and food supplies. You will eventually die and rest in our master's arms."

    Cezote's entire face twitched and tears began to pour once more, her pupils now contracted in pain. "Mmmph!" She exclaimed against the thread. "Mmmph mmmph!" Unable to talk her way through it, unable to resort to her open mockery of all things and reduce it to worthlessness, she began to thrash violently against the chains on both her feet and wrists, screaming without the capacity to open her mouth.

    Rigwyn placed his finger against Cezote's eye - catching a tear, then laughed out loud as he watches her wither in pain. Steeping back he raises his arms and cried out, "Master! Show us that you are here! Empower your servant!" With fear and reverence, he stepped back - with a sense of anticipation. He knew with every fiber of his being that that BlackFlame was with him, and in him.

    Cezote wailed, though the sound was muffled and even more indecipherable than her usual random rambling. Her back arched and she screamed louder, the chains jangling as they kept their hold on her. It was the only thing that didn't permit her to simply leap off the table. A shaking, skin quivering, traveled along her arms and legs, spreading towards her toes and the tips of her fingers. Her veins seem to darken even as her skin grew paler, the vibrant green shifted to a sickly pallor. The white color of foam seeped past the thread, soaking it, and she stared upwards with wide, half-crazed eyes, settling back against the table.

     Rigwyn fell to his knees as he felt the presence of the Blackflame only to be violently thrown backwards into a wall. He was astonished, frightened, and yet giddy with excitement. The shelves and cabinets around them began to shake, the cabinet doors slammed fiercely -splintering and cracked from the terrible force that gave them life. Feeling a sense of fright like never before, he held a hand out as if to push it away, until the tide of horrific energy faded away.

     Cezote smiled. Truly cracked, tugging against the threads in her mouth. "Mmmph," she mumbled, as she too felt the presence, and then its inevitable waning away. She began to thrash against the shackles anew, wanting to be free, wanting to get out of there. The fact that she had just been infected with a disease that would eventually lead to her demise barely registered. Certainly, she had lived on the brink of death for so long, its intimacy with her was no longer much of a threat. "Ashhhhhtardddt," she spat, trying to get words across. "Gooooooo now." Her head popped up and fell back down with a nearly sickening crack, and she shrieked shrilly. "Gooooooo nooooowwww!"

     Rigwyn got up slowly with windswept hair, then fell on his knees next to her head. One by one, he unlocked her shackles, then muttered,

 "Go now. Go and spread the new life. Spread your sickness!"

[karnath]

Rigwyn cursed. Things between <> is the telepathy.