RP:Are We Making Headway?

Part of the Home Sweet Home Arc

Location: Mage Tower

Synopsis: Gilwen, Aetherial, and two accompanying soldiers visit the Mage's Tower to speak with Brenwyn regarding the cursed diadem, and to find a solution that would cleanse the artifact of Tiphareth's magic. However, the group instead deal with Dyraxdiin, who provides solutions to rid them of the curse on both the diadem, Sage, but also Gilwen's hand. It seems that the elves have finally made advancements to releasing the last hold the Drow have on their home.

Mage Tower

This room is huge, and the entire place is covered in blue and white marble, with many torches and eight pillars reaching up to the ceiling to reinforce the room above, and keep the tower standing. The columns are covered in mystical runes, probably magic to keep the pillars strong, making them able to withstand pressure that normally wouldn't be possible. In the center of the room, there is a spiraling staircase made of glass, and also inscribed with the same type of runes as the pillars, leading to the higher levels of this magical tower. Next to the stairs there is a small desk here with a sign on it. At the top the sign reads... directions for all new mages. There is a door to the south, and you now notice that it too, is covered in the strength giving runes, that leads outside and a door to the west leading to the dormitory, a place for young mages to rest after their studies here.

Gilwen, and a small elvish entourage of three, entered into the Mage's Tower carrying a small, glass box that held therein a tarnished silver diadem. The group was dressed in light armor constructed primarily of hardened leather, and armed to the teeth, though Gilwen's hips lacked the twin set of daggers usually sat sheathed there. Immediately upon entering the tower, they moved straight for Brenwyn, holding out the encased artifact. "This is what I wrote about," Gilwen said, motioning to the box with a gloved hand. "I need to know how we might cleanse it." She glanced back at it, her lip curling in evident disgust.

Dyraxdiin is here, as is almost always the case. The great wyrm obviously finds books on arcanum much more fascinating then anything he could find out beyond the seemeless walls of the tower - then again, he's spent enough of his life roaming the lands to have seen more than he cares for. Regardless, and in direct opposition of the aforementioned statement, the presentation of the diadem lures Dyraxdiin's gaze, his riveted attention only tarnished by a cursory glance at the hands - and the person - wielding the thing. "Boil it, I'd wager," He admonishes before Brenwyn can utter a reply. The mage shrugs his shoulders, "I'm no jewelry-crafter though." Lightly-armored in mithril half-plate, that acts almost as much a mirror as a form of protection, Dyraxdiin cuts an odd figure, what being in the company of a gaggle of robed men. He sports robes as well, given they're only half-robes designed to allow freedom of movement and denote his calling. Unlike the visiting companions of the she-elf, the great wyrm doesn't adorn himself with weapons, rather relying on an easy demeanor and a well-placed hand on hip to deter trouble.

Gilwen's attention shifted to Dyraxdiin in the wake of his cleansing method, and a fleeting sign of confusion crosses her features. Boiling something removes curses? What should it be boiled in? And then, realization dawned, and her nose wrinkled in subtle annoyance. "Not that type of cleansing," she stated, her gaze roaming over the wyrm in acknowledgement while a second female elf, just as petite as Gilwen, but sporting silvery blonde locks, offered a warm smile. "It's been tainted. With fowl magic."

Dyraxdiin feigns a look of surprise when he hears the telling of the diadem's ailment. He smiles then, and turns his attention to Brenwyn, if only to afford him a nod and indicate he would handle the new arrival's. "There is no such thing as foul magic," He states in a matter-of-fact tone, his voice a deep, otherwise easy-going thing, "Only foul people. Magic is a tool, you see. It does only as it's bidden." He's a teacher, obviously. The great wyrm folds his arms and inspects Gilwen's eyes, "Who cast the spell?" A relatively straight-forward question, but something few can answer when dealing with objects of obscurity... which Dyraxdiin feels this thing is, somehow.

Gilwen had been growing increasingly restless, and perhaps a bit touchy regarding the magic that corrupted the diadem, and had killed a vast portion of Sage- so it was for that reason along she ripped off the glove covering her left hand to present the wound there. Palm up, her hand sported a two-inch-long gash that had refused to heal, and the flesh off her entire hand was a molted patchwork of dark gray and black shades. The appendage smelled of death, and the discoloration had started creeping up her forearm. "I would have to disagree with you about foul magic." Aetherial, the blonde elf that accompanied Gilwen, showed no sign of disagreeing with either her fiery friend, or Dyraxdiin, and instead nodded to Brenwyn as he moved away. "The Drow Tiphareth. The curse on this artifact correlates with the one on Sage- and now Gilwen as well."

Dyraxdiin shakes his head at the reveal of the wound on Gilwen's hand, "That's intent. A very specific intent..." He trails off, remembering some horror or another from the wars long since forgotten beneath the bedrock of current Lithrydel. "It will need to be contained before I can do anything about the destruction of the curse - I'm not sure of it's properties yet and we all, including the lands surrounding, could be subjected to its taint just be having it here." A rather easy way of saying we're all at risk of arcane necrosis. "Come with me, then." He releases a low sigh as he turns and heads for a door along one of the walls. It opens at his presence, allowing the company access to the room beyond. A room that is more of a giant book than anything. Countless volumes on the arcane, both well-known and long forgotten - save for by a few - line all of the walls of his office, from neck to deck as it were. A rich mahogony desk sits in the middle of the room, bearing the weight of still yet more tomes and scrolls. "Place it on the table and I'll see what can be done then."

Gilwen could, at times, act very much the petulant child, rather than the dignified leader she was supposed to be- right now, she was the child. "It's still foul magic," she muttered in argument, but to herself, as she stuffed her hand back into her glove. When the threat of the curse spreading to the Xalious mountains due to their presence was stated, Gilwen did take a moment to appear slightly sheepish, but the moment was short lived, and she, Aetherial, and the two soldiers who flanked either woman, followed Dyraxdiin into the impressive office space. When instructed, the encased diadem was sat on the desk by the elf sentry who carried it, while Gilwen actively perused the titles of the multitude of books. "We think we know the magics that make up the curse," Aetherial offered, "Necromancy, and advanced arcanum. Given who Tiphareth was, it seemed a safe bet. The third seems to be unholy in nature, but that hasn't been confirmed yet."

Dyraxdiin moves around to the far side of the desk once everyone has entered. His hands relieve themselves of his gloves, which seems to slide off of their own volition. The great wyrm looks up to Gilwen, and then to Aetherial at her mention of the magic involved. "A multifaceted spell can be troubling... there are physics to magic that normally act as safeguards for people that try to utilize such spells. Tiphareth would be one of the few I would wager who know how to navigate and avoid a catastrophe that others wouldn't." Diin can't help but feel a bit of awe at such a feat. He looks down at the thing again, his own mana to flow forth in a sudden rush of agitated energy, with a personified intelligence - a desire to hunt. What is it that touches this diadem? His magic slows and tapers off, careful of disturbing any safeguard that the previous owner may have instilled in the thing. A work of magic like this is deserved of protection, even if the intent behind the spell is wicked. He probes gently, lost in the feeling of another's magic. "Do you wish to salvage the diadem?" A sudden question, his eyes still lost in the act of the arcane.

Gilwen drew back from the books to watch Dyraxdiin inspect the diadem, a wary expression set across her features. When asked if they wanted to save the artifact, Gilwen's hands itched to snatch it to her and protect it from potential harm. She didn't, however. "Yes, the diadem needs to remain whole." A beat. "It was rumored to have been blessed with Druidic magic as well. Centuries ago. I wouldn't know how to tell if that magic was still intact, or if the magic it had imbibed has been tainted." The unasked question was whether or not he could.

Dyraxdiin nods his head slowly, listening to Gilwen's explanation behind the need for the diadem. He tightens his probing hold on the artifact, enveloping it in a temporary bind that will cease the continuity of it's intent. The quick spell is tied off and left to be. "It's contained for the time being, until I can remove the spell." Diin pauses, his eyes to find Gilwen's, "The easiest way to restore the diadem would be to trick the spell into thinking it has accomplished it's task. From there, the spell will go dormant and can be removed while keeping the artifact whole. I'm not sure if any druidic magic would remain however." The mage folds his arms across his chest, "I could also simply destroy it and disperse the spell into a nullifying chamber. Magic will only last as long as the wielder feeds it. This spell here is tied to the diadem, and will erode only at the rate the metal will." Dyraxdiin sighs and seats himself in his high-backed chair, a single digit to extend and tap upon his lip. "If neither of those are options, then I could try to manually unravel the spell. A threefold spell is ugly business, especially one that could be entangled with a fourth; that druidic magic you mentioned."

Gilwen nodded through the duration of the explanation, and Aetherial had taken to jotting down the information for her own person use. "So the easiest way the, would get rid of all the magic, and the trickiest way... would it potentially preserve the druidic magic? If that's the case, I would prefer the more difficult plan of action." Aetherial, who had been paying attention to the whole of listed solutions, nodded toward Gilwen's hand. "And how might you extract the curse from her hand? She hasn't been able to cast magic, and she's lost all feeling and use of her hand entirely." The sudden glare shared between the two women indicated that, perhaps, the information divulged wasn't something they agreed on sharing. It was Gilwen who broke first, and she turned back to the wyrm while expelling a huff of breath. "I've reached out to a skilled necromancer, and we've located a paladin... If each were to focus on unraveling a single aspect of the spell, would that perhaps make it easier to do?"

Dyraxdiin smiles to Gilwen, his blue eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Unravelling the spell would return the diadem back to it's original state, mostly. Right now, the spells are combating for dominance, which is likely the reason why Sage is not just a page in a historian's book by now. While nature magic is powerful, especially when instilled in an object from nature, it is no match for this threefold. I advise you drag that paladin here by his ear the moment you see him if you wish to preserve whatever might be left inside." Really, the idea of untangling this jenga-puzzle is quite fascinating to the great wyrm, who hasn't felt challenged enough of late. This sort of spell is reminiscient of his time, before the cursed slumber - when men and mer wielded magic of terrifying and miraculous proportions. "As for the hand... I've never cared to study arcane healing, and I'm not a druid, so I wouldn't be able to reignite her ability to harness that magic. You might be able to find a carnomancer who can help, alongside the aid of a practiced healer, or druid. Flesh is very different than metal, I'm afraid. Whenever a soul gets involved, things become... different." His tone remains very matter-of-fact, as if he is listing off the ingredients to his favorite dish.

Gilwen liked to pretend that the state of her hand wasn't at the forefront of her mind every minute of every day, just as much as she liked to pretend that her inability to command nature wasn't detrimental to who she was. But the moment the conversation switched to her hand, and the potential means of fixing it, she looked at Aetherial, who quickly wrote down the advice. One of the guards, who had thus far remained silent and out of the way, spoke up then, but his words were in the language of the wood elves. The only indication of the topic was 'carnomancer', which wasn't translatable; there weren't many well-known flesh magi. "Purifying the diadem won't fix the forest though. We would need to unravel the spells in Sage as well." How, exactly, was still unknown; where they to walk up to each tree and purify it? Or was there a concentrated place that merely fed the infection; cut it off at the source, and free Sage of the magic?

Dyraxdiin looks to the wood elf guard as he speaks, and then back down to the artifact on the table. Drow. Their use of magic has always been a thorn in the side of history since their arrival in the lands. This is the second time he has been asked to help in ridding Sage of the curse - something he has been unable to unravel. The study of this diadem, the source of corruption - a concentrated vessel of the casters own mana - will serve to unlock the secret of the curse on Sage, of that he is certain. "Once I've learned how this spell was cast, I'm certain I can create a work around for the forest. I would perfer it in reverse, but the spell is only in trace amounts out in Sage, whispering on the wind. Tiphareth's own mana is preserved in this artifact, untainted by the lifeforce of another - or of a forest. This will serve as catalyst in the reversal of Sage's ill-fortune." Diin stands up from his seat, and motions to the door. "I'm going to go dig up a few books I don't keep in my collection here. See to it you find that paladin and quick." The great wyrm bows his head to the company and exits the office.