RP:A Sample of Flesh

Part of the Home Sweet Home Arc

Location: Recaptured Fort

Synopsis: Gilwen calls upon Larewen to help repair the damage done by Tiphareth's curse. Needing a sample of the curse for study, Larewen removes a strip of flesh from Gilwen's cursed hand, and promises to help dismantle the curse.

Recaptured Fort

This small patch of land has witnessed the destruction and resurrection of major forces. Notably, the elves lived here first in a thriving, peaceful community before being decimated by the duergars. During their occupation of this land, the deep dwarves built a dark tower and spiked walls. What happened to the duergars is not known, but some time after the drow military occupied this fort and from here launched a war against the elves, driving them out of the forest and replacing it with darkness. The drow won the first war, but lost the fort in the second. The watchtower was destroyed by the elves, who must now build a future on these lands, whose very foundation is violence and war.

The settlement the Elves had built over the months since reclaiming Sage was small, but lively; children often ran between the small cottages that flanked the fort, and the sound of music being made was always present. Despite the hardships they had faced thus far, the Elves could always find comfort amongst kith and kin. Since recovering a long lost artifact from the depths of the Underdark, and from the very house of Trist'oth who had dealt them such pain, the enclave had a new breath of life breathed into it, and a general, infectious excitement seemed to be tangible on the breeze. While there were whispers and rumors of the cost of the excursion, no one seemed apt to dwell on them long.

Larewen and Emrith's visit had caused a disturbance throughout the settlement, but it had been one of curiosity; it hadn't taken long to reach the council, or Gilwen, who had been away to Larket during their arrival. Upon her return, she had been provided the details of their visit, and the current, assumed, location of Larewen, who would have been allowed to wait in the council's chamber. The chamber had once been a war room for Dreugar, and Drow, but has since been converted to a meeting location for the elder council of elves. A sideboard hosted an array of liquors, to satisfy an array of palates, and maps of all the different regions of Lithrydel hung in tapestries along the stone walls. In the center of the room was a large, oaken table, hewn from the trunk of a what had once been a massive tree; it had been sanded and lacquered, and ten, high back chairs, with black velvet upholstery sat around it. Centered on the table was a topographical map of Sage, which had been enchanted to mark the spread of the curse in real time; The entire lower half of Sage, from the small village of Kelay, to the borders of Enchantment, and then west from Xalious pass to the start of the Milious Plains, had been marked with a swath of blackish-browns and grays, indicating the plague and its current boundaries. Gilwen, having changed into a fresh white blouse, and simple leather leggings, announced her presence with a knock on the door before providing herself entrance. "Lady Dragana," she said, pushing through the threshold and expecting the woman to be within, "Sorry to have kept you waiting. I was caught up in some trouble in Larket."

The necromancer paced back and forth, smoking an ethereal cigarette. While there is no threat of ashes falling to the floor, the acrid stench of its curling fumes is present within the room. Lady Dragana bore her death wounds surprisingly well and a glimmer of tears stains lingered upon her ghastly cheeks. She turns to regard the elven woman, nostrils flaring in an attempt to pick up a smell she cannot. "It is fine, I needed the fresh air after..." She trailed off. Considering Gilwen's quick arrival, it was clear one of the elves had fetched her. "I received your letter."

Gilwen took in Larewen's appearance with a quick cursory glance, and barely managed to avoid wrinkling her nose at the stench of smoke as she entered into the room further. "Thank you for coming," she said in response to the mention of her letter. With a wave of her hand, she gestured to one of the high back chairs for Larewen to have a seat, and would only take one after the corporeal woman did. "I originally wanted to speak to you regarding the plague on Sage, but now..." Gilwen paused in that moment to remove the left, elbow length glove and present the black and gray hand underneath. "I was in immediate contact with a cursed artifact, and this has been the result." She turned her hand over to present the two inch long gash centered in her palm, which had refused to heal, and sat gaping and occasionally producing a thick, gelatinous mixture of blood and puss. "It seems to be growing, and I have no feeling, or ability to move my fingers." The necrotic discoloration was just reaching Gilwen's wrist.

Larewen doesn't seat herself. First, it's too much trouble to conjure the ability to do so and second, Gilwen's already showed her the goods. The necromancer's cigarette falls from her hands, vanishing from sight. Much like a child released in a bakery or candy shop, the necromancer is suddenly at Gilwen's side and reaching outward. Now she finds it worth becoming more tangible and once that's done, she's seeking to curl fingers around the other's wrist - tenderly. "Impressive. What artifact do you speak of, Gilwen? Did you find the cause of the curse, then? Perhaps it can be negated and the artifact can be stored for study? I would rather be prepared should such a dire situation come to pass again. Tell me everything!"

Gilwen watched Larewen warily as she approached and then began her inspection of the cursed appendage. "We recovered an ancient diadem from Trist'oth," she explained, "We're in consultation with the Mages in Xalious. They believe they might unravel the magics that taint it." The history behind the diadem, and its ties to the wood elves made it incredibly important. "Apparently it's a three piece curse. We're hoping that if we can get a specialist in each area to simply focus on unraveling their respective aspect to the spell, that it might allow the ancient Druid magic to remain behind undamaged." So, in other words, the council did not wish for the crown to be destroyed, or studied for longer than it took to remove the curse.

The necromancer's nose wrinkled slightly. She had her own crown to go for though, and last she checked it wasn't cursed. Instead, she listens to Gilwen speak and when the woman has finished, she cants her head to the side. "So I take it then that one part is arcane, one unholy, and the other druidic?" she asks.

Gilwen was pleasantly surprised by Larewen's insight to the parts of the curse, but she shook her head. "Necromantic instead of Druidic. But yes, unholy and arcane are the other two." She lifted her blackened hand back to Larewen, a single brow lifted in silent question. "I need your help, though, Larewen. Preferably with this first. Is there any way to remove the necrotic aspect of the curse in my hand? I would prefer it to work again."

The necromancer presses her lips into a thin line. “I would need to study it first. Would you be opposed to me taking a small sample of your flesh?” she asks after a moment. A strange delight glitters in her eyes, perhaps showing a bit more interest in the curse than is warranted. “It would be a matter of undoing the threads already woven - I just have to find those and pull.”

Gilwen looked apprehensive, unsure whether she wanted to give the necromancer a piece of herself for study. Ultimately, however, she held her hand out to the other woman, and nodded a quick consent. "How long do you think it might take? This has become a rather large inconvenience." Perhaps it was a bit of an understatement, just how inconvenient it had been over this past few weeks since she first lost control over the musculature in her hand. "If you are able to untangle the necrosis aspect of this curse, I would be very much appreciative if you would consider helping with the removal of it in the future from the diadem, and our forest."

The elf lifts her chin slightly as she takes the other’s palm. Reaching with her other hand, she draws from a pocket within her gown a small, sharp blade. Without earning, she digs it into the woman’s palm, slicing a piece of necrotic flesh from the limb. “It won’t take me long to figure out how to undo it; I will, however, need a few days to verse the others on how to undo it so that I can be withdrawn from Sage.”

Gilwen didn't react to the blade as it stripped a piece of flesh from her palm; she couldn't feel anything with that hand. The blood that oozed from the wound was thick, coagulated almost, and definitely not fresh. She grimaced at the sight of the blood, disturbed by it, but she quickly fished a handkerchief from her pocket and gripped it tightly in her hand to staunch the flow of ichor. "Obviously take your time, but..." She paused and offered the woman an almost sheepish expression. "The sooner the better. This is spreading rather fast for my taste." As for Sage, she nodded. "Anything you can do to help, would be greatly appreciated."

Larewen dips her head in lieu of Gilwen's words. "I will let you know as soon as we've found something. Is there anything else I can help you with in the meantime?" There is an odd sort of sincerity in her voice, and perhaps a tad too much excitement.

Gilwen shook her head. "No, that was everything. I look forward to hearing back from you." That was an understatement. "If you'll excuse me though, Larewen, I must see to a few things." Given the recent attack on Larket, she wanted to insure that her own borders were safe. "Thank you again for your help." And with that, the elf turned to leave the council chambers.