Fight:Ishataulak Strikes at Kasyr and Jerica

Part of the Grey Blight Arc

Frozen Path

Jerica had left Frostmaw not so very long ago and managed to navigate her way south. Already she missed it but Jerica still had things in the Kelay area to take care of. Normally the diminutive woman would have just knocked the dust, or snow, off her boots when she left but this time was different. She's not going to think about why. Keeping her cloak and hood on, hunched within the heavy folds of fabric, Jerica kept to her southerly route paying more attention to her feet than her surroundings.

A solitary ochre eye watches the figure trudging through the snow as a forked tongue darts out from between scaled lips, tasting the air and the traveller's scent. What is detected are hints of snow, fur, and the vaguely sweet essence that marks the female members of two-legged races. That's all the she needs, for as far as the warped, vengeance-bent mind of this particularly Gray Dragon is concerned, this traveller tastes of the last egg-killer she fought and was forced to flee from. A rippling growl not unlike the sound of rolling stones escapes Ishataulak then, that thought seeping venom into her veins and leaving a bitter taste in her maw as the familiar flame of sorrow-borne revenge flickers into life beneath the scales of her chest. With all the liquid grace of a hunting cat, the dragon uncoils herself from her cliff perch and begins to wend her way down the mountain face, stoney talons sinking into and clinging to the rock without effort to allow a silent wall-crawl despite her immense bulk. Slowly Jerica will be stalked along the mountain pass, the dragon's patience in hunting lasting only as long as it takes for the pain-filled memories of her mate's death, egg's theft, and her repeated defeats to fully awaken her wrath. Then... then Ishataulak will strike, and she will finally have her revenge upon the brood-destroyers.

Kasyr isn't quite in the vicinity, persay, given the Kensai's just finished making his way down from Frostmaw, if only so he could begin his march towards Vailkrin. Really, the Revenant is loathe to leave the comforts of a cozy home, and an even cozier wife- but as it currently stands, the civil war isn't going to stop just because he wants to ...'chill out' as it were.

Jerica thought she heard something that resembled the sounds of claws on stone. The only reason she knew it was because the tigers used stones to sharpen theirs. Were there tigers around here? Jerica's step falters a moment at the thought and she makes it look like an accidental stumble, going to one knee to hide the motion of a hand dipping inside an interior pocket. Instead of the small cross bow she was trying for, Jerica ends up with a hand full of small throwing knives. They would have to do.

Jerica's stalker has a mind quickly degenerating from keen and calculating hunter to obsessive, single-minded vindicator. Not a thought is spared for the woman's apparent stumble save for an involuntary flick of her serpentine tongue across yellowing fangs--those that still remain in the half of her muzzle that hasn't been melted into a mass of warped scale, seared flesh, and bared bone. Beneath mottled scales as rugged as stone roils muscles eager to launch her entire bulk from the mountain wall and down upon her target, but something holds her back a moment, that half-wild hope this creature will lead Ishataulak to the other nest-ruiners so that her revenge can be delivered in one fell swoop. The thought of rending that mouthy man from pointy hat to feet is enough to leave the dragon trembling with delight where she hunkers against the rocks, enough to keep her from diving upon Jerica in the immediate moment. But Ishataulak's resolve can't last forever, not as that turbulent storm of rage, grief, agony, and bloodlust continues to churn within her, building in strength with each passing moment until it will overcome all other thought.

Kasyr , unlike the other two players in this drama, isn't slowing down. If anything, the swordsmans steps hasten- driven by the resolute desire to get to Vailkrin as swiftly as possible so he can do his duty, and get it over with. Hurrying along as he is, he still manages to find the time to drag his hand up through his hair- to collect a cigarette cached between a folded ear and his hair. Settling it at his lips, the Revenant simply begins to mutter the words to the cantrip he habitually uses to light his smokes. By the time the cherrys glowing red hot, the Kensais focus drifts away from his diversion, if only to take note of the traveler thats fallen up ahead.

Jerica looks over her shoulder to see a familiar figure and it's with an easier mind she gets up from her crouch. It's a good thing the cloak she wears is slightly over large. Her hand is still full of the daggers. Being only human, she doesn't think to look beyond what her senses tell her; she heard a sound, she looked and there was Kasyr. The two must be connected. Relieved Jerica starts walking to meet up with the kensai, who is obviously in a hurry.

Eager minds lend delusions to what the eye sees, as is presently the case for Ishataulak. For Kasyr's appearance along with her earnest hopes have resulted in her convincing herself the pointy-hat'd-killer has arrived at last. Her murderous glee is almost palpable. In fact, for the Empath, it very well might be the only warning he'll receive before talons unclench and leg muscles uncoil with behemoth effort to launch the dragon's gargantuan form from the wall, sending her plummeting down toward the pair like a living avalanche. For all intents and purposes, Ishataulak truly is a living avalanche, with stone-esque scales, jagged edges, considerable, bone-crushing weight, and a croaking roar that echoes with the distant rumbling of boulders on the move. The dragon's once proud roar might be diminished from the damage wrought upon her throat by a certain foxkin, but the sound is no less terrifying when backed with the raw emotion of a grieving mother finally getting justice, a rolling bugle that preludes her violent descent upon the pair below.

Kasyr s' gaze continues to resides upon Jerica, the recognition coaxed by sight and sense coaxing his head canting off to the side as a lazy veil of smoke coils in front of his vision. "B.." The words die upon his lips, his attention snapping up towards the mountain face as a deluge of murderous intent crashes against his senses. With his Cigarette dangling off of his lips, the revenant is left blinking at the monstrous form that detaches from the rocks, the mountainous din that echoes through the air with the saurians fury. It's with a desperate sort of haste that Kasyr snaps back to attention, endeavouring to dive out of the way of that devastating 'pounce'. That maneuver hardly compromises the whole of Kasyrs' intentions, however, given the sudden manifestation of eleven vicious cracks of darkness; vicious slashes of black 'energy' which seem to corrode at the space they occupy. Each of those blackened gouges abruptly solidify into the shape of a broadsword- forming a loose dome of supernaturally sturdy 'scale' in Kasyrs Vicinity, the majority of their number focused in Ishataulaks direction as a makeshift buffer. That being said, were someone familiar with Kasyr, they'd likely puzzle over the appearance of only 11 shapes... at least until one were to take note of the twelvth, formed near Jerica so that it can -hopefully- knock into her with the flat of the blade, thereby clearing her of the grieving dragons point of impact. Sure, if she gets smacked, it'll likely smart due to the unnatural denseness of the weapon- but c'est la vie.

Jerica is knocked into. It all happened so fast she didn't have the time to react. Falling flat on her behind, the woman huffs an indignant curse or two before climbing to her feet. She is not empty handed as Jerica had taken the opportunity to delve into a pocket sewn into her cloaks lining and withdraw her custom built cross bow. A bolt is slid in place and several more were clutched in her left hand. The right is brought up to aim for a spot that seems soft enough on the dragon. Between the forearm and body. Once it is raised, either to turn away one of Kasyr's attacks or strike back herself, Jerica would squeeze the trigger and send the first bolt flying for that tender spot. She's quick about reloading and moving at the same time, hopefully the King wouldn't get in the way of her shot.

A face half-masked with sloughing flesh is turned on the evasive pair with its single remaining slit-pupiled eye, Ishataulak drawing back rugged scales to reveal teeth in a snarl while saliva pours in thick rivulets from the damaged maw to begin freezing in the arctic wind. In a way, she had expected them to avoid her avalanche-esque descent upon the area. She'd dealt with them before and they'd proven a slippery lot, fast and flightly as insects, with the same infuriating bites peppering her scaled form. Not this time, though. No, for Ishataulak is a Grey, and Grey's possess a valuable trait to stall even the most dodgy of prey. It's then that the dragon inhales and her stance widens as if to brace herself against the deep breath, wings half unfurled to further aid in balance before, with a forward snap of her head like a striking snake, Ishataulak's jaws part and she spits forth a wide-spread spray of foul-smelling, thick black liquid. Everywhere the ooze touches, be it snow, stone, or flesh, it hisses and frothes, first burning what it clings to before its true effect sets in: a stiffening of the surface, a creeping solidification as the Grey's petrifying breath sinks in, determined to turn its targets into stone. Jerica's crossbow bolt, if she's taken this moment to fire, produces no reaction from the dragon with scales like plates of boulder. She might take note of the ragged collection of scars on Ishataulak's throat however, for the flesh there is still raw and unprotected from when Satoshi had shredded it in a vengeful fit to save the wizard Svilfon.

Kasyr can't help but audibly curse when he sees that black torrent gush forth from Ishataulaks maw like bile. The revenants reaction is spontaneous, coming in the form of a forceful exertion of his will upon those ebon blades- effectively coaxing them out from their arrangement as a 'shell' of steel about him, and into a more prominent and wall like formation in front of himself. Unforunately for the Kensai, whilst the Greys breath weapon does in fact impact into the swords which stand sentinel, that putrid petrifying solution is most certainly liquid- and a fair portion of it surges over the wall, splashing down atop his bowed skull, seeping down to his neck, and immersing the back of his trenchcoat near to its' entirety. The only solace the Revenant can take in this particular matter is the fact that he's at least managed to draw his hands up into the sleeves of his coat before that vile liquid could reach the flesh there. Still, despite the fact that the Kensai is currently discovering this particular dragons capacities by virtue of the profoundly painful experience that is his flesh sizzling and stiffening, he can hardly consider himself finished. After all, whilst 11 stone encrusted blades rest before him, there's still a twelfth lingering near Jerica. A weapon that's promptly directed by Kasyr to abruptly hurl itself towards the Saurian; so that he can thoroughly abuse the unnatural weight and density of the blade to draw the greys attention away. Really, so long as it didn't sound like the Grey's getting ready to spew again, or move- the Kensai is more than content to give her a few more intended 'smacks', even if he's relying upon his relative memory of her location to wage his 'remote war'.

Jerica curses when her first shot missed. She reloaded and looked over the legged serpent for something that looked more or less vulnerable. Unfortunately that means she missed the spewing of black liquid. Fortunately, she had found a boulder to stand on and she was relatively out of the direct spray. A few spatters had landed on her cloak and it began to feel heavier the longer she took to aim. There, the throat. She narrowed her attention on one of those scars that seemed barely healed and...fired. At least that hovering blade wasn't distracting her anymore.

Unable to see past the veritable wall of swords Kasyr's erected, Ishataulak has no way of knowing her attack has proven relatively successful else she might have roared in joy at harming the mate-slayer. Instead, what could have been a triumphant sound becomes a bellow of pain, Jerica's bolt finding the raw tissue of her throat where it easily punches through with no granite scales to deter it. While hardly a debilitating wound, it still serves to distract the dragon long enough for that solitary blade of the kensai's to reach its target. With a thunderous crack the unnaturally dense Gospel collides with the solid plated scales of the Grey's face, serving to snap her head back with a violent twist that drives the bolt deeper into her throat to further exacerbate the wound. A defiant roar is voiced then, as if Ishataulak believes her behemoth voice is enough to scare the sword away. While it may be powerful enough to knock most humanoids flat with the force of breath, deterring Gospel is another matter entirely that earns the Grey another pair of sweeping blows across her jaw, scales beginning to splinter beneath the force. But she has no intention of enduring another such slap, no. When the sword comes back on a fourth round, that's when Ishataulak's fangs flash out, seeking to clamp down upon the dense blade and lock it in place. Occupied as she is with Gospel, she's momentarily forgotten the presence of the other two, likely to her future dismay.

Kasyr can't help but grimace when the blade he was 'wielding' becomes a fair bit..unresponsivive, the exertion of his will upon the weapon resulting in naught more than a few jerked motions that are effectively nullified by the Greys bite. A bite that is providing an even more vexsome problem, as whilst those animate blades that the Kensai manifests certainly mirror most of Gospels capcities; the true blade is a fair bit more durable, as indicated by the manner in which the ominous weapon is slowly cracking beneath the tremendous force of Ishataulaks jaws. Unable to even shake his head at the thought, the Kensai simply tilts his body so that his right arm faces his improvised barrier. With a feral grunt, the Revenant tackles forward, bodily slamming himself into the wall of ebon blades which still remain embedded in the ground- such tremendous force being exerted that it shatters the revenants Petrified sleeve- thin stone giving way beneath the blow. Twice more that brutal maneuver is performed, once for the Revenants left side, and once more for his back- seemingly heedless of the lacerations that are left in the wake of his motions. All that matters is that he's free to discard that ruined coat of his, the fractured stone sliding off his body with a dull thud. No longer confined within his coat, Kasyr is quick enough to retrieve the Greys chew toy- that obsidian broadsword slipping away in an insidious black miasma, if only to reform near Kensais outstretched hand, pushed into the ground so he can stand up and lean against it, "Hey. Bitch. You left the job unfinished." Not that Kasyr is going to be able to hear her response all that well, given that his ears are effectively glued to his skull in a sheathe of stone. Probably a good thing, given that due to the flesh of his neck being petrified, his head is inclined towards the ground..and it had seeped as far down as his brow, effectively freezing his eyebrows up in a semi-permanent expression of alarm. Maybe it'd be funny enough as a sight, that Ishataulak wouldn't notice sparks which are beginning to pop in the air like a fireworks display meant for pixies, while thin veins of electricity dance along the Revenants arm, and hop between his blades.

Jerica is already reloading, not bothering just then to even try to see if Kasyr was alright. She had scored a hit! Maybe one more? Working the string back to the latch, Jerica glances up once or twice to check where the dragon was, her breath came in quick vaporous bursts. Jerica quickly raises the crossbow, aims and fires. Jerica won't stay in one place though. Kasyr had a better chance of ending this than she did, so far. Keeping that formost in her mind, Jerica doesn't to reload another bolt but simply holds it down at her side to yell, "Hey! Hey you! Over here!" Jerica's free hand is raised and waiving over her head.

The dragon's immense teeth clash together violently with the sudden disappearance of the sword she'd been attempting to bite in half, a fact that leaves Ishataulak peeved and looking for a new chewtoy when that second bolt catches the underside of her jaw. With ease the quarrel punches through the Asorial-damaged scales there to drive its way into the pouch beneath that houses the petrifying liquid the Grey weaponizes--thus replicating an injury Ishataulak had suffered the last time she'd ambushed members of the Coterie. A half-strangled roar erupts from the dragon then as she whips her head back and forth, the black sludge oozing from a gaping maw to be flung in every direction indiscriminately in an attempt to expel it from her own mouth before it can begin to solidify. Insults and shouts go unheeded--and likely unheard over the continued roar--Ishatualak's every thought devoted to coughing up the foul liquid even as it begins to harden over tongue, teeth, and throat, slowly cutting off the volume of her bellowing. While the Grey isn't consciously on the attack at present, that doesn't put the pair entirely out of harm's way, not with the downpour of petrification fluid coupled with a pained dragon's wild thrashings that include stomping feet, swinging tail, and wings frantically fanning the air to kick up powerful buffets of wind.

Kasyr wishes he could loft a brow at the dragons antics, but with certains parts of him being as rock hard as a clergymen in orphanage, he has no such luck. That being said, what he lacks in forunate, he certainly makes up for with blades. Even as that vile deluge of the Greys breath weapon pours forth, the Kensais already of 'drawing' forth his final blade; Those painted serpents upon his arm stripping clear from where they lay inked, so that they might accumulate in a noxious mass of energy. It's with all due haste that Kasyrs fingers clasp around that insidious amalgamation of evil, forcing the veritable Gospel into solidity, if only so he can level that odious shifting arnament (whose guise currently mirrored all the other broadswords) at Ishataulak. Though the Revenant's all but immersed in the looming shadow provided by the Greys breath, the Revenant continues to call upon those electrical energies which bend to his whims- even as they furiously begin to gnaw away at his flesh, eroding at the flesh that remains upon the back of his neck, and tracing its way down along his spine. It's only when he's on the verge of being submerged in that putrid tide of death that those invoked energies are discharged all at once- sending Kasyr in a literally lightning quick 'charge' towards Ishataulaks right foreclaw. The motion is deceptively fluid, the unnatural weight of the weapon being hefted towards the midst of the Saurians limb just as it's coming down in an attempt to stagger and offbalance the Grey , before the Revenant promptly invokes another discharge of energy- this one costing of a fist sized chunk of muscle and flesh from the Revenants left arm. Still, the need is great, as it serves well enough to send the Kensai 'bolting' off towards the rock face, so that his blade can slam into the wall and effectively anchor himself just a bit out of Ishataulaks reach.

Jerica 's reaction is swift as that spray begins to saturate the area. She crouches, hoping against hope that the fluid will hit her cloak and hood before skin. Huddled within, the woman breaths slow and steady as she feels the weight of her cloak growing heavier by the second as it soaks up the petrifying spray. At least, what of it isn't sent billowing out from the power of those wings and tail. Spatters land upon her hands left unprotected and upon her head, eating away the hair and skin as she yells with the pain of it. Retreat is often the better part of valor and she'd attempt that even going so far as to push the leaden cloak off. It might be cold but she'll deal with it. Already she felt her hand growing heavier and Jerica didn't have magic to push the scum off.

Torrents of sludge come to a spluttering halt in that moment, dual influences resulting in stemming the flow rather abruptly, to Jerica's good fortune. Firstly, the dragon's supply of the fluid reaches its end swiftly, in that same instant Kasyr's charge collides with the underside of her foreclaw, the shockwave rippling through Ishataulak's entire form to snap her jaws closed with a violent crack. The dragon sways from the impact then and begins to teetering dangerously to one side, a choked roar crawling its way out of her half-solidified throat before gravity takes ahold and drags her crashing to earth in a tangle of stoney limbs and flailing wings. For a brief moment Ishataulak merely squirms where she's fallen and cries out with strangled whimpers laced heavily with indignant rage. It's only with a behemoth effort that the Grey manages to drag her form upright once more, tremors coursing down her scales as she takes in ragged breaths, trying to breathe deeply enough to coax her body back into the fight. But it's to no avail, the dragon can hardly breathe, let alone carry on combating the monstrous pair, and so it's with a pained snarl that she whips around and hurls herself aggressively toward the wall--unaware Kasyr's clinging to the spot she's aiming for--with claws swinging. Isahtaulak's only desire in that moment is to burrow through the stone with the unnatural speed graced to her earth-attuned kind, where she can tunnel deeper into the mountains, find herself a deserted cave, and lick her wounds in peace once more. As an instinctive precaution, the Grey's tail is used to smash the tunnel walls in passing, to collapse the pathway and prevent others from following her trail.

Kasyr s' instinctive reaction to the dragon whirling around to face him is fairly simple; The kensai immediately pulls himself closer to the blade, if only so he can swing his legs up and to the wall, and begin to push off the rock and effectively settle all his weight and strength into dislodging the blade. Ishataulaks already in the air and bearing down upon him by this point, the full weight of the massive grey now hurtling towards his position- and yet, the Revenant can't help but be possessed of an eerie calm. Jerica, were she attentive, might gain an indication of a why, if only because those twelve swords that had been left behind promptly dissipate, eleven stony shells remaining in their wake. With a rumbling roar that befits a peal of thunder, Kasyrs sword is promptly expelled from the rock face in an explosion of debris; that odious weapon driven by raw unnatural strength and quickly invoked mass of kinetic energy, all towards a singular target- the Greys claw that's all but poised to flatten him. Though, to be fair, it's hardly alone, as the entirety of the Revenants summoned swords materialize in the wake of Gospels swing. In effect, each weapon lapses into a mirror of the original weapons arc, albeit spaced so that they each trail a half second behind the other- effectively turning the Revenants singular strike into a parade of blades. Unforunately, Kasyrs' likely not to take much enjoyment out of the sight of this particular debacle, as a patch of flesh above his eye ionizes flesh and stone alike- blood seeping down across his gaze. Then again, he hardly needs to see, to swing his arms again- his every intention being to use the incredible amount of weight and density held within these blades to fend the Grey off, and send her fleeing (Because really, given that unforunate pounce, he could hardly tell that was her intention in the first place).

Jerica 's job is to be attentive but at the moment she's a bit preoccupied with what little of that ichor spewed from Ishataulak's maw had landed upon her. Particularly she is worried about her right hand as that's the dominent one. Hearing that thunderous roar, she looks up in time to see both; Kasyr's swing and the dragon's boring into the side of the mountain. Unfortunately, there is not much, at this point, Jerica can do.

Ishataulak has had more than enough even before the kensai turns that monstrous slew of swords on her, the sheer force of them all shattering her right foreclaw, knocking her off her original course, and sending her smashing sidelong into the cliff face. High-pitched cracking announces the dragon's nine tons of weight crushing the bones of her left wing where it's been caught between rocks and rock-like scales before she slumps to the ground. No breath or energy is left for the Grey to scream out her pain, however, leaving her with silently huddling against the mountain side in a miserable mess of injuries that was once a proud and fearsome beast. Shaking herself after a moment, Ishataulak forces her claws--broken and otherwise--to lift her bulk up and, with a withering snort directed at the pair, dives once more for the rock face, this time angling for the uneven dirt that serves as the point where mountain meets ground. As easily as a fish in water, Ishataulak's rugged form slices through the tons of earth and burrows away, all too eager to put distance between the egg-stealers once more. And not a moment too soon, as a familiar vulpine face framed in locks of white hair pokes itself over one of the cliffs above to peer down at Kasyr and his companion. "Ahem~. Is there a reason you're shakin' Frostmaw's foundations, love?" Satoshi demands in a half-playful, half-anxious tone, for while she doesn't know exactly what's taken place, her bond with the revenant has at least clued her in to some sort of dangerous, pain, and general mayhem. Not waiting for an answer, the magus begins making the trek down the path so she can join the two and avoid having to yell a conversation.

Kasyr is not particularily talkative when first addressed, if only because he's currently dealing with the ramifications of his little showdown. Specifically, with having been launched back towards the mountain side following that tremendous impact of blade & beast, and the ensuing chaotic scrabble down the rock face. Well, less of a scrabble, and more of a plummet whose direction is altered by virtue of a blade slammed into the wall- so that the Revenant could fall somewhere other than straight down. He'd hate to be predictable, in case that dragon could sift through rock and earth like a fish through water. It's only when he lands that he turns to address Satoshi, eyebrows still fixed in a surprised expression, and his offhanded attempt at sifting a hand through his hair meeting utter failure due to the fact that his scalp was effectively a nest of jagged, stone, "I met a monster that gave moi a reason to get a hair cut?"

Jerica isn't far off, her own right hand weighted down by the spot of petrification that hand landed. Cradling it against herself, she eyes the dragon's exit warily as she comes back to the rocky pile that was left of her cloak. With a vaporous sigh, Jerica nudges it with a booted foot. It's after this she looks up at the Queen of Frostmaw and her king. "Pardon me, but that beast seemed to be extremely upset with you. I would ask why but I don't think it matters. However," she glances down at the half-stone hand--the only parts moveable were the fingers and them only just, "do you happen to know a way to reverse this?" She gives Kasyr a pointed look as well, "A feat you seem in need of as well, yes?"

Satoshi joins them in time to catch both comments, steps faltering at Kasyr's mention of a haircut. He wouldn't dare! Would he? Gathering herself, the kit glances between kensai and stranger, taking in the stoney qualities they've acquired--at least, she's assuming Jerica didn't always have a rock-wrought hand--before the ghost of a grin crosses her face. "I'm going to hazard a guess that you met the same beastie that gave that treatment to Svilfon and I." The collapsed tunnel nearby only adds to the evidence that Ishataulak had made another call on the Coterie. Jerica is given a nod then in answer to her question. "I know how to, yes~. It'll hurt a bit, mind you."

Kasyr snaps off a piece of his hair and flicks it off to the side, a positively ired expression crossing his features..or rather, as ired as his eyebrows allow him to look. "Beasty... If you mean the dragon, than oui, cherie. Elsewise, I'll have to see a sculptor instead of a barber." The revenant pauses for a second, before he places one hand to the side of his head and starts to forcibly tilt it, accompanied by an unpleasent cracking noise, and the sound of tearing flesh. "Fff. Fixing this sooner than later would be much obliged, cherie."

Jerica finds a place to sit. Her ruined cloak will do. "Take care of Kasyr first. He's got the worst of it." She uses that heavy hand to sort of poing his direction. Jeica grimaces and swallows hard with the sound of rending flesh and cracking. For an assassin, she sure is queasy about some things. As for it hurting, Jerica shrugged, "It can't hurt much worse than now."

Satoshi lingers a moment longer to peer at Jerica in hopes of a flicker of recognition finally sparking her memory. But no, the kit's either never met this woman or her faulty memory has gotten worse. Whichever it is, she shrugs it off and approaches Kasyr, even as her hand fishes through her satchel. "After my last run in with that dragon, I decided to modify a potion recipe to reverse the petrifying effects." Drawing a large vial from her bag, Satoshi gestures with it for Kasyr to take a seat and, at the sound of him tearing more flesh, uses the glass container to smack him upside the head. The sound of glass on stone earns a grimace from the magus then. "Thing is, I'm not a potion master, so I had to mix some of my own spells into this. Which involves ice, of course. So it's cold... really, really cold. But it works." With a pop, she unstoppers the potion and offers it to Kasyr. "Just a few drops. Let it sink in, and once it starts turning the stone soft, work it around a bit, eh? So long as it's eating the stone, it won't linger on your skin and try to give ya frostbite~."

Satoshi doesn't mention that she's yet to test this on anyone. Shhhh.

Kasyr grimaces when he's smacked, if only to comment, "I realize I have a hard head, mon amour. You don't need to test it." That being said, the Kensei does take a seat as he was directed. The explanation is followed, or at least Kasyr gives the impression it is but "Mming" & "Hmming" at the right time. That being said, given he's now seated, angling himself up to look her in the eyes is a bit vexsome now. "I don't think frostbite es really a large concern, in my case, Cherie." The revenant casually reaches his hand forward at that point, to meaningfully tap two fingers against the back of her hand- before he retrieves the potion bottle, intent upon following her directions. Relatively, anyways, seeing as he just casually tips a bit into his hair and offers it back. He's more or less at the 'wait and see' part of this experiment

Jerica heard those instructions and she has to wonder if having a stone hand wouldn't be so bad after all. No, it wouldn't be so she will wait her turn, quietly and patiently.

Satoshi, just for the sake of being impish, smacks Kasyr's forehead again when she's handed back the bottle. He might not be able to see her expression at the current angle, but he'll likely detect the playful intent behind from both tone and empathic link. "That frost bite remark was moreso a forewarning to your, ah," a look as given to Jerica here, "friend here. She smells rather alive, and if I remember right, frost bite actually -matters- to the live ones." With that, and a few extra drops added where the calico's ears have been plastered down, Satoshi shuffles over to Jerica and holds out the potion. "And your turn, miss stone-hand~."

Jerica holds her hand out with a twist of a grin towards Satoshi, "I am quite alive, thank you. My name is Jerica." She remembered that the cure was supposed to hurt so as soon as the drops land on her hand, she is rubbing the potion in, working it into the stone covering of her hand until it desolves away. After that, she's not quite sure what to do.

Kasyr sort of feels as though he's dunked the top of his head into ice water. It's the same sort of feeling, a piercing sort of chill that burrows to ones core. The revenant pauses for a few long moments, fingers hovering above his scalp- until he finally loses his patience and prods at a one of his 'clumps' of hair. Though still stiff, his hair no longer felt as though he was dragging his hands across a set of jagged crags. And thus, he simply begins to poke and prod- focused upon working out the clumps.... and getting any excess bits of potion with his left hand, so he can start rubbing at his forehead and neck. "Rectifiable problem..that. But, eh. ...I almost feel like this should have a minty smell. Does this have a minty after scent?"

Satoshi leans toward her husband to sniff warily at his hair, expression thoughtful. "Hrmm. More... pine-y, than minty. But hey, I think it worked. At least it didn't turn your hair silver. There... there might have been a slight chance of that." We'll just blame that on there being a few Mercury Dragon scales present in the potion, along with an accidental stray strand of fur or two from Satoshi. The kit coughs then, eager to change the subject. "I take it the scaley brute ran off again? I was hoping she wouldn't be able to use that stone breath of hers again, but I guess that healed up... Pity."

Jerica wondered if the rectifiable problem was her state of being alive, or Kasyr's stoney hair problem. Granted, she might have mumbled something to herself about talking about this siring thing she'd heard of from Muraski during her stay with him. Had he heard that? Oh, now Jerica is going to be all paranoid as she ducks her head to work at the stone on her own hand. She will add, "I sent a few of my cross bow bolts into her throat. That might cause a bit more damage."

Satoshi said, "I like this one. Alive before and -after- meeting Ishataulak, while putting a few bolts in the beast. Sturdy one, that."

Jerica thinks she should probably be flattered. Flexing her hand and twisting it at the wrist, Jerica finds it almost as good as new. It felt cold, however. Hopefully it will go away.

Kasyr tilts his eyes up towards Satoshi, "I'd look fine in silver, j'pense- but, that's neither here nor there." Kasyr is, by this point, scrubbing fairly furiously- something which is proving to be fairly rough on his hands, though not overly painful. Jerica earns herself a couple side-glances due to her anxiety, though its' not enough to really coax the Kensai into commenting.

Kasyr said to Satoshi, "She's one of those..courteous, polite types, too."

Jerica gets up abruptly and looks at the ruined cloak. With a sigh she nudges it again with the toe of her boot just in case it decided to be cloth again. It did not. The cloak will be staying behind. "If you two will excuse me, it was fun but I must go now." She was heading back to Frostmaw, of all places, with out a cloak.

Jerica looks between Satoshi and Kasyr, clearing her throat, "This way you really can talk about me like I'm not here."

Satoshi helps herself to plucking soggy chunks of former-stone out of Kasyr's hair and tossing them aside, saying to Jerica in the process, "What brings you to the fringes of my territory, anyway? You must be some brand of trouble, to hang about my husband, so I can't help being curious just what -sort-~." And while the foxkin isn't looking at Jerica while she says this, there's no mistakening the amused lilt of her voice, both for the general situation and at meeting a potential new source of fun.

Jerica pauses in passing the royal couple to blink at the woman picking through Kasyr's hair, "Your.. Oh. I didn't mean to tresspass. Not at all. I have actually been staying with a friend up there, in Frostmaw. Actually, more of a recent friend and I really should be getting back. He might worry." He probably wouldn't.

Satoshi pauses in her nitpicking to salute the woman. "Stay out of too much trouble then~. I'd hate to arrest someone that can hold their own against that dragon."

Satoshi is totally serious. Behave yourself! She'll be watching.

Jerica bobs a curtsey to the Queen and hurries off.

Satoshi said to Kasyr, "You weren't kidding about the polite bit."

Kasyr said to Satoshi, "Aye. A bit ..timid, however. She had made some form of agreement or another with Muraski- for her to be turned by moi, or something (Which he informed me of later)... Et well, despite that arrangement, she's not mentioned a thing of it. Nor have I mentioned that I know of that arrangement."

Satoshi tugs a last bit of melted stone free--along with a hair or four--before looking down at Kasyr, eyebrow quirked. "Another one? Doesn't it get taxing, with so many bound to you? You'd think at some point it'd wear you down." There may be the slightest hint of jealousy in those words, but who can blame the possessive kit when there's talk of him turning another woman?

Kasyr tries to wiggle his ears, if only so they'll stop being pinned down to his skull, "I -am- tired of it. And don't intend to make any more additions to Coterie, though I confess that the girl holds potential." It's only at that point that the Kensai pauses to look at his wife, "I don't have to be the only one people are bound to, you know."

Satoshi pretends to be focused on helping free up his ears, replying in an off-handed manner, "If you're implying what I think you're implying, remember what happened -last- time? That hobbit caused us a lot of trouble." She's doing her damnedest to hide her uneasiness, for all the good that does when standing next to an Empath you're married to.

Kasyr s' ears wiggle out, before promptly easing to either side, "Yes. Last time, when you had no idea what you were doing, were vastly more inexperienced, et didn't have a Coterie to help you with the whole process." That's accompanied by a casual waggle of his finger, and an offhanded, "And I'm only really implying this -if- she's still desirous of such a change, et if she meets your standards, cherie."

Satoshi decides then to claim the revenant's lap as a seat, for more reasons than to tend to the patch of missing flesh above his eyes. Still, casual affections aside, she is listening and nods along thoughtfully. "True, true. It's worth considering at least. ...so long as you'll help me, yes? I don't want another Whess. Ever again."

Kasyr rubs at his eyebrows which, due to petrification shenanigans, are fairly sore. Still, that only really takes one arm, leaving him a free one to coil about her waist, "If she turns out that poorly, I'll put an end to her myself, Madamoiselle. Or force Muraski to do it, since this is all borne of his agreement. An agreement that he';s been since barred from making."

Satoshi nestles closer and muses aloud, "Should-a let Sir Clink push him out the window when I had the chance, really."

Kasyr leans to her, though he can't help but offer up an inquisitive, "Window?"

Satoshi gestures vaguely toward the Eyrie's outpost, where even from here it's immense height can be seen disappearing into the clouds. "My office at the top. Those two were having a disagreement over an egg, made comments about jumping out of the window. Should have let them, I think."

Kasyr just shakes his head slowly. There's really nothing to be said when it comes to how bone headed those two can be.