RP:Dutiful Queen of Frostmaw
Part of the Vakmatharas' Jar Arc
Summary: The Queen of Frostmaw stops off to see a dear friend, High Priestess Leone and ends up risking herself for her people in the process in order to save them from this awful curse.
Healing Room
The room is calming and welcoming as you step into it. You see various salves and prepared herbs, as well, you take in a deep breath and the sweet smell of inscence fills your lungs. Shortly after your arrival into this backroom, the shop keeper follows you, to assist any any healing you require for a small fee.
Leone is hard at work. She was always hard at work - in this very location - these days. The only respite had come for a brief time last night, when the black-clad swordsman (erm...the one that isn't the steward), had shown up to ask her a few questions, in a situation that was quickly spinning out of control. By comparison, the chaos of the clinic seemed manageable. There were wall-to-wall cots, most with just barely enough for shins to squeeze in between them. Most of the healers managed a funny sort of sideways waddle-walk. For her part, the sacred smith was dual-wielding blessings and wards, a bottle of anointing oil in one hand, while the other took liberties to draw on the foreheads of the ailing. She hobbled around, from cot to cot, muttering and smearing people with oil, in seemingly cyclical fashion. The aging human woman, normally flushed and robust, instead looks drawn. There are dark circles around her eyes, and her permanently blackened fingertips and shriveled like philange raisins.
Hildegarde was not immune to the curse that had afflicted Frostmaw. She was a dragon and therefore immune to a vast majority of illnesses if not all, but curses were an altogether different beast. So the symptoms of a rather vicious cold were new to the dragon. She hadn’t been actually sick before, so this was a real eye opener. It almost made Hilde glad not to be human. The Dragon Queen had been in a bit of a rage, though, having learned of an intruder venturing towards the forbidden temple to the west and no-one did anything about it! What, there’s no law in Frostmaw these days? The Queen had gone out to investigate but she could not venture too far. There had been too many Ice Devils lurking nearby and Hildegarde did not wish to risk it. The intruder would either die in the west or they would need to risk passing back through the town, so there was still time to catch them. The Silver entered the healing house with a rather minor injury: a slash to her hand from the Ice Devil’s whip. Spotting Leone, the Silver quietly observed for a moment or two. She looked tired yet determined. The knight would offer her a small nod in way of greeting, but she wouldn’t outright go and disturb her important work.
Leone is not new to the murmurings of royalty among the commoners, and the people do so love their queen that, when the redhead knight enters, the room is immediately astir. The smith straightens up, her hands falling to either thight before a soft smile curves her features. The smith interrupts her rounds, and moves over to attend the marred monarch. A hand is held up, palm facing the ceiling, in expectation of the injured one of Hilde's delivered into it. "And what have you gotten into this time, mm?" The smith blinks up toward the dragon-in-human garb, and her head twitches backward. The petite plover's merry countance droops, and she frowns at the Queen before stridently remarking, "Oh. Juditha, I need a curtain." The black smoke, the mark of the curse visible to the priestess, seems to be particularly thick upon the silver dragon.
Hildegarde is a perpetually a grumpy patient. She’s happy to do as bid, purely because it’s the polite thing to do but boy will she be reluctant to go get things looked at. That had changed a little bit since becoming the Queen of the kingdom, given that her Queensguard were very insistent on taking care of their monarch. Hildegarde slips her slashed hand into Leone’s and offers a grunt as she does so, “Ice Devil whipped it,” she muttered unhappily. It was very annoying. “Those damnable creatures,” they were probably the one thing she hated about Frostmaw. Then Leone is asking for a curtain and Hilde is surprised! It’s only a cut. “For a slash?”
Leone the farrier clears her throat. The lime-green eyes are lifted to meet the silver's singular optic, and a small shake of her head is presented. The folding curtain racks are easily deployed and, after shuffling over toward one of the vacant cots, the healers make quick work of surrounding them. Then the priestess reaches over, and taps the top of the metal-framed panels. Instantly, the din from the clinic at large disappears, and the two are left in silence. "You've got the curse," the farrier's melded timbre of gravel on velvet metes out quickly, "And while a little sniffle is okay to show your people that you're not immune, and share in their plight, the extent to which you have it...this attachment...it's more than just a little. I saw the same on Pilar, while helping in Chartsend." The diminutive woman takes another long moment to eye her Queenly companion. "And it's on Brennia. So where were the three of you that this might have gained a foothold? Perhaps that's the answer, going to the location source," the roughed-up silken voice proposes. Even as she speaks, the cleric sets to bandaging the cut supplied via ice devil.
Hildegarde had known she had the curse. Krice had notified her about it. “I am aware,” she said in reply, sniffling as if to punctuate the point. “It’s more of the headache, really, that’s the worst,” she didn’t like the ache. “Ahh… we were at the baby shower for Josleen. In Schezerade.”
Leone nods and rubs her hands together, once the bandage in secured in place. "Well then," she says in punctuated displeasure, a pursed-lipped mein turning upward toward the dragon, "Let's see what we can do about the headache, shall we?" The smith turns in half away from Hildegarde, a knife produced from the pocket of the robe currently cladding her miniature frame. Cleaning and swiftly, the smith slices her palm open, and then promptly pockets the knife again. Some of the anointing oil is then shaken out into the gathering pool of red in her hand, the two melding together with swirling pockets of bubbles on the top. The priestess then swirls them together with her finger and, coating the pad well in the shimmering substance, motions for the knight-monarch to bend.
Hildegarde did not mean to invoke the displeasure of the priestess with her comment regarding her awareness of being cursed. It was the burden of the crown to endure and suffer for her people, was it not? The Silver kneels when motioned to do so, bending her head slightly for Leone.
Leone begins to scribe shapes and whorls into the silver's hairline, blood and oil infused into the red tresses. The smith works her way around, touching both temples, ears, and finally the back of Hilde's neck with the strange, ichorous symbols. The familiar energies, blue and white, lick their way down the plover's arms as her touch doubles bag, embuing each sigil with holy power. They glow ever so slightly as they are activated, soon fading away. The normal blessings and wardings of pure oil are delivered to the knight-queen's forehead, just as all of her ailing subjects have been marked. Then, the smith bends forward and wraps her arms around the warrior-woman, hugging her close for several seconds. "You must let me see you regularly, and keep tabs on this," she states stridently before falling into immediate silence. The farrier swallows hard, and manages to stammer out, "I...I don't want to have to do you harm again. For the good of Frostmaw, or your own good. I do not want to have to do that again, and this curse - it frightens me."
Hildegarde remained still as Leone swiped the sigils onto her flesh, having grown well accustomed to this. The Silver remains still and waits for the blessing to come into effect. The knight waits until the glow fades away and the smith is seeking to embrace her. The knight offers a little smile, gently patting Leone’s back as she returns the embrace. “I will, I promise,” she tells her quietly. “But…. Speaking of that, I, er, I have questions regarding our shared beliefs. I have been thinking about undertaking a pilgrimage, but there never seems to be time,” Queens could not simply go away for a while. “We’ll sort this out, though. We can do it,” she said with confidence, offering Leone’s arm a squeeze.
Leone sighs, and drops her arms from their circle around the queen. "We can do a pilgrimage," the farrier assures her, "You won't have to leave it alone, per se. We can have messengers, that will relay business to you there and back again. We'll do a large party, as well. Offer that anyone who wants to go along can, and we'll ask for merchants to volunteer provisions, so anyone, regardless of wealth or status, is able to go." The smith nods in support of this, and then shrugs. "It'll be a good exercise for some of the newly anointed paladins, in particular. But yes," she says with a pinched face, "First we must figure out the curse."
Hildegarde nodded once again as the priestess mentioned the curse. It was good to know the pilgrimage was not a terrible idea, but she would perhaps keep her reasons to herself for now. Sharing them seemed to make it a selfish notion and something she feared would make Leone feel guilty. “Indeed, we will figure this out. But we must figure out how best to resolve this, for our people and the realm.”
Leone smiles at first, then frowns. "It's powerful," she says suddenly, "Moreso than what I am blessed with - and it's definitely divine. Godly. Yes. So it won't be something just I am able to take care of. We will need every devotee, every monk, priest, cleric, paladin - everyone in the realm - to contribute. But, as stated, we can't just banish it. It doesn't dissapate. It moves. And until we can find out how to destroy it (or get it back into the jar), then we'll just keep passing it around."
Hildegarde sighed at the mention of needing far more hands than they presently had to deal with it. “Convincing them all to assist will be difficult. I feel as though many are turning inwards, rather than seeking to help their fellow man. It will be difficult.”
Leone folds her hands, fingers twining before she levels a brilliant, peridot-green gaze upon the Queen. "Then perhaps they need a demonstration of what working together will yield," the smith says with a grave face. She clears her throat, and lays a hand on the queen's shoulder. "Perhaps if we exorcized someone, in public, and invited other nations' leaders to see..." The smith's words trail off, and she pauses for Hilde's reaction.
Hildegarde was intrigued by the notion, nodding her head ever so slightly. “But what does the exorcism entail? Who ought we exorcise…? Someone they would consider to be a civilian and therefore low risk,” there is a hint of irritation when she says that, “or someone they would notice? What would we need?”
Leone pauses, her breath catching before a long, drawn out sigh is issued. "Exorcisms are painful - and quite the spectacle. So someone of some reputation would probably garner the most attention, and have the greatest effect," the smith begins to explain, "A banishing of this sort will involve a preparation stage, the cleansing, and then once the curse is detached from the person, a destruction phase, followed by heavy warding of the individual, to make sure it doesn't return. Obviously, as we discussed previous, the destruction phase is the issue. We don't know how to destroy it, just make it move on."
Hildegarde nodded as she is told exactly what the process would involve. It seems as though it’d be quite the spectacle all right! “I’ll do it,” the knight says with a little shrug of the shoulder. “Larket will enjoy seeing me suffer, so that will catch their eye, but they also will not enjoy being shown up as a kingdom that does not help. They did not attend the summit and their own son is said to be afflicted by this curse… if we show them, they may wish to help.”
Leone smiles and nods. She'd secretly suspected Hilde would volunteer for it. "Very well, then," the smith says, "I'll make the arrangements, but we'll need some study. I'll need...perhaps a week. Two, if it proves to be particularly difficult," the priestess insists, "And we want to make sure it's as safe as possible. But the risk, as long as we open some eyes and hearts, is worth it, I think." An absent nod is given once more, as the farrier's attention wanders into mental lists of what needs to be done.
Hildegarde nodded in agreement, “Aye, the risk is worth it. We must do what we can to save the people. And defeat this curse,” she murmured. “We should let Lady Brennia know, too. I suspect she wants to lead this effort to defeat the curse and she may be able to rally an audience.”
Leone thumps her knitted hands against her stomach, and looks at the floor. "I will go and see her soon. I shall send a letter first, and find out if there's a particular date and time that are better for her. In the meantime, I need you to do a few things. The first is to bathe daily, until the banishment can be performed. The next is that I need your diet to be...above the bar. That is to say: gems and metals, and no cake log!" She seems very firm on this.
Hildegarde could bathe every day, that was fine. Gems, metals, that was all very doable! But her face fell entirely at the mention of no cakelog. What?! “Not even one?” A dragon’s appetite was voracious after all.
Leone purses her lips, and shakes her head at the queenly Silver. "No cake log. I will make you a moutain of cakelog afterward. You can gorge yourself on cakelog once we've expelled the curse," the bantam blacksmith foreswears, "But until then, I need you in the best shape possible, and that means all dragon necessities, and no human foods. Or elf. Or dwarf. Or avian." The smith shifts forward before quickly falling back and pointing a finger at the redhead, "Or troll. What I'm saying is: no other culture's foods."
Hildegarde offered a grunt at the list of dietary requirements! “Meat, metals and gems,” she conceded somewhat unhappily.
Leone claps a hand on Hilde's shoulder. She heaves a sigh before promising, "We'll through a massive feast afterward, and have all of your favorites. I'll start tomorrow on ordering from various bakeries, to make sure we have the supply on time. You can go all sugar and carbs afterward, if you want. But before, I need you in prime healing condition, and we both know you only get that with a heavy ingestion of gems and metals. I'll see what I have yet; the least I can do is supply you with some, yeah?"
Leone chuckles and squeezes the Silver's shoulder. "It'll be fun. Like one of those fad cleanses the elves are always going on about. You'll see," the smith attempts to comfort, "And then the binge will be glorious." The smith again taps the top of the curtain structure, and the sound crashes back in from all sides. "In any case, we need to see more of each other. I've been very isolated the past months, and I'd prefer not to be any more," she says almost sadly yet through a soft smile.
Hildegarde smiled as Leone offers further comfort and speaks of a binge. It would be good. “Aye, a feast for the people, that would be good,” the elves were bizarre for their fad diets. Who doesn’t love food? “You’re right, my friend, it’s been too long. We ought to see more of each other, particularly when the world isn’t ending,” she noted.
Leone pulls the curtains open and nods once more to the dragon-queen. "Yes, we've been very neglectful of our relationship, partly becuase it feels like the world is always ending," the smith expresses with a small chuckle, "And we're always being pulled in two or three or fifty directions at once." A rueful smile and a huffed note of laughter follow, before the farrier inclines her head. "It was good to see you this time. I will make an effort to do so more often."
Hildegarde nodded wearily at that comment. It always felt as though the world was ending or something needed them to take action, there never seemed to be a moment to relax. “As will I. You can always ask for me at the fort, too, Lisbeth shall always prioritise you seeing me I think!”
Leone issues a small chuckle at the preferrential treatment, and nods in understanding. "She is such a dutiful knight. I respect her greatly. So at the very most, I will see you in a week," the cleric-metallurgist amalgam insists, "And check on you, the progress of your curse, as well as the cut on your hand...and your diet." Leone nods again, a hand lifted in silent farewell before her phial of oil is again seized, and she returns to her anointing of the sick and cursed of Frostmaw.