RP:In Preparation of the Titans of Winter Tournament 2017 - part 3

Synopsis: Eirik, Raphaline, Sabrina, Valen and York meet up to witness Eiriks Berserking ritual. They all partake in some of the pleasantries but only Valen dives headlong into the event. Perhaps Valen might not join them the next go around? Regardless, York seems embarrassed, Valen ends up sick and Eirik ends up being. Well. Eirik. Angry beyond comparison and prepared for war. He will soon find out that a creature named Rohk is following him around. York NPC'ed with permission. Raphaline NPC'ed with permission till she was able to join in, due to OOC reasons.

Somewhere Within the Forests

The air is laden with a thick smoke, wreaking of sage, an item often used in purification rituals. A bright flickering orange glow illuminates the deep recesses of the ancient forests, casting odd shadows against the trees. The random snap, crackle and pop of wood burning is the only sound to echo out in the area. The forest is eerily quite; an ominous sign of what is to come. Entering the make shift campsite one might be confronted by the site of several logs, placed for seating. A band of bards lies near the fire, carrying assorted war drums, and horned flutes. Eirik is also here, standing near the roaring bonfire; a long fur like blanket wrapped around his muscular frame covering what all would assume is his usual attire. Before him lay several wooden bowls filled with an unknown fungi. Sabrina, as a healer might instantly recognize it. It would suddenly seem apparent that Eirik had been studying books on herbology at the healers guild and found some suitable replacements. Among other things. Another bowl is filled with a light purple fine grain powder, ground to such a state by Eirik. Nearby is also a very -odd- assortment of booze, considering Eirik is not an alcoholic, but who really knew. Everything needed is here before him. Silver eyes stare into the fire, mind seemingly off in the past, lost somewhere in history unknown.

Valen would enter the area unnanounced, but would arrive nonetheless. Out from one of the dancing shadows cast by the fire would the Vampire appear, half-elf York in tow. York, being the ever cute but shy person that he was, may feel out of place at such a gathering but at the same time had come because he was invited by Valen. For now, York would simply look around and familiarize himself with the setting, rather than converse. A kiss on the cheek from Valen would steel his nerves at any rate, and as he went to sit somewhere Valen would...well, wait for something to happen, feeling rather out of place himself. That very large cache of alcohol though did catch his eye.

Sabrina naturally would follow the light of the forest through its many complaints of celebratory violation. The Ancient Forest was a vast enterprise of acres upon acres of tormented woods. It would stand to reason that this historic place would house such a deep connection to many ritualistic powers rooted in ancestral connection. She did not bring a weapon tonight, unless the beasty traveling abreast would count as one. Rohk stood taller than she, obsidian scales collect and reflect those amber hues with each shift in his stride. The dragging steps said he was at ease, and her posture implies something similar. Her hair is down tonight, the uniform exchanged for attire more fitting for casual affairs which merely meant her guilded coat was left behind and a plain black t-shirt had taken its place. Upon entering the area, the hound takes up a place near a fallen and well-placed log that gave him preview to both path and proceedings so he wouldn’t have to move at some other time. Sabrina inspected the items with a grin and adds a few of her own. A brow is raised to the power in the bowl but her amusement is cut short as she takes a bottle and heads to sit in the cradle of Rohk’s resting form.

Eirik would break his concentration as Valen appeared from the shadows with York in tow. He remembered the Ranger, but had not had the pleasure of conversing with the fellow yet. I mean, they only did meet in passing really. An unarmored and very naked right arm pulls itself free of the blanket to wave. "Valen," his voice akin to gravel being crushed beneath a weighted boot. "I'm glad you could make it!" Silver eyes flick between the two momentarily. "And who is this?" The free hand now gestures towards York asking for a more formal introduction. However, he Northmans attention is pulled away for a second, though he would listen to Valens response. A nod is given to Sabrina as she eyes his wares. She knew what they were. At this moment in time, Raphaline would also make herself known entering from the west. The emerald eyed bard moves through the campsite to the band of bards, probably discussing what was to be played over tonights venture. "Please everyone, make yourself comfortable, and gather whatever drinks you like. Have we all met before?"

Valen would wave back at being acknowledged, a side glance given to Sabrina and a friendly nod while York seemed to be pretty much keeping to himself as he tried to gain some level of comfort in this foreign setting. The vampire would make his way towards Eirik to shake the Lycan's hand with a soft gaze and smile "That is York. You will forgive him, just for a few more moments. This type of event is new to him, as it is I, but once he gets comfortable I assure you he will open up. Him and I...well...we are involved, to put it plainly." Really after how things went the previous night, he was not sure what to call them at ths point and a half-smile was on Valen's lips. It truly was a conundrum to him, as that evening had certainly been one of merriment, but also pain like he had never felt before. Seeing Raphaline however, Valen's eyes would betray nothing at the time and he would only give her a nod, that half smile in place still as he regarded Eirik's words, making his way towards the buffet of booze. "I would say so. You and York just in passing, but I am not so sure if York has meet Raphaline or not...." With that, the half-elf would end up making his way over and Introduce himself to the female bard, no doubt making delightful small talk.

Sabrina holds a bottle up to Valen and company, but does not rise. The last time that fellow laid eyes upon the elfess the ongoings were quite intense. Rohk could give to monkey-shytes about either of them. It is when Raphaline enters the party; he didn’t see her over the flames across the bonfire but he knew that smell quite well. His head rises and twin tails beat the ground twice. That was more wave than most ever got, and also, it was enough. He lays his head back down, assuming the position like he had been resting for hours. Sabrina was happy though, it seemed like lately she only ever got to see the Bard in passing and they needed to stop doing that. It would never fail that one of them was always working, tonight would be Raphaline’s turn, r so it would seem. She leans back against the beast with legs spread and elbows propped for comfort, awaiting tonight’s venue, so to speak. She had never been to one of these but her constant search for something to study was always tugging at her interests. From a small pouch at her hip she takes a small section of thin paper and a sprinkle of several items before rolling it, licking the seal, and igniting the end. She relaxes back some, blowing the smoke out towards the hellmutt who didn’t seem to mind. While the others went about with familiar greetings the Elfess remained in her silent corner with the uninviting hound. Her eyes forever on that York fellow whom she knew so very little about.

Eirik nods to Valens response and takes note of the two chatting in the distance with the band of Bards. "Thank you all for coming," he states plainly without over endorsing his own brand of emotion. The Lycan himself begins by plucking up a bottle himself and dropping the blanket. Now is when the surprise hit everyone. For Eirik was damn near naked. I mean seriously. No coyish blush sweeps over his scarred visage as he stands there in naught but a loincloth. Every scar which covers his frame now visible to the eyes. Each one tells tales of the story of Eirik. Everyone a lesson in the books of history. He takes a moment, for others to get comfortable, but no longer. He was quite sure that his appearance might cause a bit of a stir. "I've invited you all here, because frankly, your all I have." His words don a serious tone and riddled with his unfamiliar accent which marks him as a foreigner. "In order for my ritual to work, I must have others present. Others to witness the events and ensure my safety. You represent the only people I've come to trust. No matter how little time we have spent." Silver gaze moves to Valen pausing to let his words sink in further. "You are not required to partake in the items I've laid out, but your welcome too. In fact it is encouraged." At that Eirik shifts turning to the bards and waving at them to start. Without too much time elapsing the group has settled on something to play, and heavily ridden by bassy drums. It was tribal. Carried a distinct warlike heart beat. It was perfect for what was to come. "Basically," his words move over the music. "Just have fun, drink and be merry."

Valen would certainly understand the weight of what was being said but damn it all if he was not caught off guard by the almost nude appearance. York would break off from conversation with Raphaline for only a brief moment to stare in concern at all those scars, before continuing as long as she wished to speak with him. Valen had no clue as to what was about to happen, as he had never been to one of these shindigs before but he certainly knew that it was important for the lycan, and as he considered him a friend he was certainly not going to let him down by backing out. York might end up needing to leave if things got too uncomfortable, but that was all to be understood...hopefully, but the Half-elf would stay beside as long as possible. "Eirik..." he would say, walking back over to him, eyeing the scars for a moment in pensive thought, before continuing...trying his best to not let his eyes stray too far lest things become uncomfortable. Dammit all the Vamp had urges just like any other, but he would try his best to behave himself out of a sense of propriety as well as a sense of morality. He was not about to cause intentional hurt to York, just as he knew that York would not do so to him either. "I will do whatever is asked, and will do whatever everyone else does. I will not be a pooper of parties." It was said with a smirk, playful, but hopefully he would get that Valen would go along with it all, just for the sake of friendship. "How can I learn new things, if I am not willing to try after all?" The music seemed to be tribal, yes, but also somewhat primal with those drums. It was music that spoke to him on some level he did not understand yet understood all too well. What was it? Valen would also have seen Rohk, still not understanding two iota's aboyt just what it was, and that confused him all the more. Still, part of him was glad the beast did not care...menat he was not bothered by the Vampires presence at the least.

Sabrina looks up from her place at Eirik’s announcement. The intention of a glance was lost when she doubletakes and her mouth parts slightly open. Rohk was unabashed. He’d seen worse. The elfess was not without her experience in the male form just... not outside of professional courtesies. She is feeling quite uncomfortable and manages to focus on anything but the starkly dressed center of tonight’s festivities. She was asked here to insure his safety, she reminds herself that this night was officially an on-duty sort of encounter. Taking another puff from her much anticipated smokeable, she tosses it at Rohk’s nose. He would have to continue without her. The dark beasty finally looks up to tilt his head at the male’s display. The only indication her had turned a look of concern for the Elfess was the very slightest of head turns in her direction. Those eyes never shifted aside from the vortex twist of blackness they always were. He saw apprehension, he saw timidity, in all truths the unholy halfbreed saw life through a series of different levels of fear. Not everybody liked to call it that, but it was fairly simple to him. The one person of note at this entire event was the Vampire, and not because of his affliction, it was because he could focus only those that would focus on him.

Eirik would smile at Valen as he spoke, still unashamed of his appearance before the Vampire. The near nakedness might seem odd at first but was also a requirement. A mixture of that ground up light purple herb, water and ash would need to be smeared over his body after he was good and drunk. Valen would see that at some point. No one else was required to do the same, they could, but such a thing wouldn't be asked of them. Eirik didn't have a tribe anymore. He certainly didn't have a pack. Both of the previously mentioned things would have been called upon first. The bowl filled with fungi, a hallucinogenic is plucked up from the ground. A few pieces are eaten by Eirik before he speaks. "You can be a pooper of parties if you want. Just being here is enough for me," muscles near his mouth twitch before rows of ivory are revealed; a smile which shifts the scar over his features. "This," silver eyes move to the fungi, "will make you see things and open your mind. But take no more than two. For now, but be warned, it has a horrible stale taste." His features fall silent of emotion again, and Eirik waits for Valen to make his decision. Next, the underdressed Lycan would move from Valen towards Sabrina and whatever that creature was. "How about it Sabrina," He smiles offering the same to her. He wouldn't push her personal space, but stand near enough to gauge her reactions.

Valen would listen in honest enthusiasm,a bit of a blush before looking over at York and giving him a shrug. What harm could it do? With that, shadows would move from all over, encircling the Vampire for mere moments before departing...leaving him in much the same vulnerable state as the Lycan, loincloth and all. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it proper and not worry or give a damn. Valen's pale skin would shine in the light of the fire, but the moon is where the effect would come from. His skin would appear luminescent, unmarred except for the scar on the front, back, and top of his shoulder. The rest was flawless, perfectly smooth, and exceptionally radiant given the aforementioned reasons. He felt a bit silly like this, -certainly- felt vulnerable, but he was among friends...mostly, as he still was unsure what to make of the bard but he counted Sabrina as a friend, as well as Eirik....and certainly York, so he was comfortable enough to do so. "I will participate as much as I am able Eirik, you can count on that." Downing numerous more things to catch up to the Lycan, and if needed or if apropriate, would also ask to receive the mixture to be placed upon his form, and would eat a few pieces as well of the fungi, but no more than the two directed. Just what was about to happen, would most certainly be interesting. York, for the most part, would most likely not be comfortable with doing such a thing at this time but would stick around to watch.

Raphaline had been speaking with York and the other bards gathered. For now, she chooses to just enlist their music rather than to participate yet. With all the alcohol provided, she has definitely dove into the whiskey, probably having quite a few swigs. Rather than be standoffish, she makes her way over to Sabrina and Rohk, wearing one of those infamous smiles. If the hound lets her, she will seat herself beside her friend and take in the scent of the smoke coming from her friend. Never one to participate in smoking for the sake of her vocal cords and throat, she has a fondness for the smell of it. In her hand she has a bottle of whiskey, which of course after another swig, offers it to the other woman. Her emerald eyes divert to the show provided by the men and grins before leaning over to whisper to the other woman. As for the fungi, she shakes her head no and gestures to the bottle and her choice of mind warping sin.

Sabrina shoots to a stand when Eirik intentionally ingests the offerings. She was hoping to get an eye on the quantity but she was at a visual and perspective disadvantage. At least he knew the doses when he offers to Valen and she has a sort of smug grin on her face at the fact he must’ve squeezed in quite a bit of study. Valen’s shift to mirror the Lycan’s attire is met with an audible “Dear Lords.” And she turns from the main circle with some concerns of how that would eventually go. When he approaches her though, her demeanor shifts to present a more responsible tone for what was about to happen. Her hand gently presses the bowl back to his form. “You realize the use of this….” She gestures towards the contents of the bowl. “You know I can’t.” She indicates to the others present that he might not be the only one that required a measure of his safety while under the influence of it. Her eyes are focused way up at him, that minty cool one holding a bit of sarcasm, the clouded blind one taking any fun out of her glare. It didn’t help her to appear gracious in the refusal as amber waves of the bonfire toy with the shadows cast along the scar that stole any remnants of symmetry she once possessed. In that moment of seriousness her eyes fall; From his eyes, to his jaw…chest… bowl. She casts her focus to the ground and gestures with her head for him to move on to the next person before taking up a spot next to the songstress and downing about a quarter of the bottle that was hoisted her way. It didn’t even look like it burned. “You should play with them. I am sure they don’t need -two- downers for what is supposed to be a joyous occasion.” Smiling she hands the bottle back and sinks into the ground at Rohk’s belly. “At least you house the knowledge of a fun time.” A weak smile. Raphaline had known her longer than anybody and she would understand that this type of scene was not something the pureblood would ever get used to. Rohk’s tails, having sensed too much girl-talk already, had wrapped his tails around. The tips casually flip over the Bard’s shoulder and dangle at a suspicious angle to brush against her gently. Purely unintentional, of course.

Eirik eyes Raphaline and Sabrina suspiciously. Sabrina for a longer time. Finally the lycan shrugs it off. "Suit yourselves, poopers of parties." Eirik quite literally just qouted Valen, who had also been gracious enough to bless them with another loin-clothed presence. With a turn the Northman marches away, back to the bonfire and sets the fungi down. A bottle is grasped in hand and cork pulled. It is now that Eirik finally realizes that Valen has joined him in attire. He takes note of the other males more feminine qualities and nearly laughs. At least he wasn't alone. The two ladies were free to admire the view from a distance if thats how they wanted it. The bottle is raised to his own lips, pulling down a handful of the alcoholic contents. Then its shook a little in offer to Valen. If he does not take the bottle Eirik sets it down and sits himself. Standing always brought about the worry of a strong gust of wind. Lords, that would be bad right now. Silver eyes drift to the fire, and hand now starts scooping up a pile of ash; adding its contents to the bowl of purple powder. "This," eyes moves to the bowl, "Is a herb used to induce rage and numb the body." He was telling Valen about it, so he would understand that he probably shouldn't join him at this juncture.

Valen watched as Raphaline refused the fungi, but was glad that she was there as her music was certainly something to be enjoyed even if they often found themselves at odds with each other. York, as stated would most certainly be watching, from a distance but certainly close enough to still be considered included. The Vampire would also watch, with a raised eyebrow, when the Healer turned down certain things but understood halfway why, and he did not blame her in the slightest. He too had been on the fence, but there he was, nude except for a loincloth made of the darkest of shadows. Sabrina's reaction to him undressing did not go unnoticed, he was after-all -very- proud of those hips of his, and would send a friendly wink to both of the ladies, before blowing a kiss to York. At Eirik's re-iteration of just what he had said, it brought a warm feeling to where that dead heart of his lay, one of being honestly flattered. The bottle that was offfered would be received in kind, not one to refuse such a thing...ever, and would drink deep before handing it back to the lycan. Valen would sit across from him, and watch as he worked with the powder and herb. "Oh?" In fact, he seemed more interested than put off, but as it had not been said he could join him in that as well, he would wait, but still show enraptured enthusiasm.

Raphaline isn’t so easily persuaded to abandon the other woman. Instead, she rises from her place beside the hound after patting his tail and offers a hand to the elf. “Come on, just one dance and then you can sit?” Even though the music is tribal, it has a beat to it that is easy to move. In the bard’s other hand is the bottle of whiskey, of which she takes a long swig before offering it to the other woman for a bit of courage. If Sabrina joins her and places a hand in hers, she will pull her towards the bonfire for a dance. If she does not join, the bard shrugs and decides to dance none the less. She moves with a mixture of grace and yet exact movements as she moves around the bonfire. Though she might not be of the northern descent, the elven half of her recalls other times when both bonfire and ceremony played a role in her culture. Between the dancing, she glances over at the two males, watching for what might happen now that they have ingested both the fungi and now alcohol. Whatever does happen, will be greatly amusing.

Sabrina felt a little bad she disappointed her host, but he did clearly state her purpose here and she could not drop the ball knowing the risks to others going in. Valen earns a friendly grin, that Vampire might have had a better shape than the femme herself, though, highly unlikely he could even dream to match the curves of the songstress. York is offered a seat, however, as the healer pats the log at her back as an invitation if he ever happened to glance this way. So long as he intended on being in the background the Healer was more than willing to share her space. She looks up at Raphaline. “I don’t dance.” In fact she had never in her life even attempted. She takes the bottle as it is offered with an apology, but she doesn’t drink. Instead she cracks a small smile as the Bard heads off towards the fire. Her movements were so freeing, and for a moment the familiar hints of envy wash over her- hints she hadn’t felt since the two met so many years ago. Deaglan. She thinks, taking this time to reminisce to a time when Raphaline had saved the Elfess from the threat of dance so long ago. Her expression widens to a grin. Shaking it off she reclaims her seat, nesting the bottle into a make-shift caddy to keep it from spilling. She would enjoy the festivities from the safety and confinements of her besty, who had stolen and consumed the whiskey while she was off in a daydream. A simply roll of the eyes, some behaviors could not be prevented.

Eirik finishes adding ash to the mixture and grabs a simple canteen of water, stirring it in until an ashen paste. "I wouldn't recommend this part," eyes shift to Valen. "If you haven't been subjected to something like this in smaller doses, you can easily lose control of yourself and hurt others." His tone a serious one as the effects of the fungi in his system start to make their presence known. Raphalines dancing near the fire was leaving visible streaks of tracers through the air, though this is all in his delirious state. The alcohol in his stomach began to burn, warming him inwardly. Slow moving silver eyes close for a moment, the effects much like what he had anticipated. His body started to feel light weight, everything slowed around him. The Northman wasn't peaking but was now on his way, noted by eyes which have begun to dilate. "In fact, I must insist." Eiriks attention shifts again to the band of bards signaling them to start the song they had practiced earlier. It was similar to the one used at home for this ritual, but not quite the same. They added their own dramatic flair. At once, the music stops. Drums pause and then drum in a slow steady beat. The tone mimics the beat of a heart. The one with the horn flute, starts finally, adding the higher pitched ranges to the overwhelming bass. Eirik moves attention to the fire not wanting to ignore Valen, but it was time. Eiriks head falls back, looking defiantly at the unfamiliar stars. Arms spread open as if inviting something unknown. And then voice speaks suddenly. The tone jarring, guttural and full of harsh consonants. The language of his homelands. He doesn't use common and continues to speak up at the sky. The lighting, the music, fungi and alcohol might all push Valen to experience to the scene now coming to fruition. Something was surely coming. As for the two others, they might find this a little amusing.

Valen would watch Raphaline start to dance, offering her a smile that would linger for a bit...a sudden idea coming to him as he would look to see what Sabrina was doing. True that Valen's own looks were nothing compared to Raphaline, he was actually quite glad for that seeing as most certainly a few curves would be added somewhere else on him...and he was not prepared to fill out the top portion of a dress quite so naturally. York would indeed sit next to Sabrina, perhaps a bit hesitantly but only out of being timid due to the proceedings, unsure of what the next moment would bring. For the moment he too would also be focused on the wonderful bard, her talent making things seem much more comfortable, though for now he still remained silent...out of enjoyment though a smile would be offered to Sabrina, genuine. As Valen heard though the explanation of what it could do, he would back down. The vampire would not risk his own self being the one to cause trouble to other's, though a flash of Green would pass in front of his eyes momentarily. "Very Well Mis...." A blink. Something was feeling a bit off, visions -felt- fuzzy. He was looking at Eirik, but he could -feel- as if the man was something akin to a carpet. There were no other words to describe it. Valen's eyes were similar, as he finished. "Of course Mister Eirik I...understand." As the music changed, a sense of dread came over him, that idea he had in his head would have to wait before he started to look every which way, What was he summoning? -Was- he summoning?? In his mind he could almost hear the stomps in the ground, even felt the ground shake. Just -what- was that??? "eirik...Eirik what's going on??"

Sabrina returned York’s smile and was perfectly content to enjoy the night air as her friends enjoy what is for most of them a new experience. Eirik’s voice is disturbingly loud, and despite being mostly familiar with the dialect she found a lot of those words he used were not in her own understanding of the Northman’s language. This piqued her attention since linguistics were important to her. The tribe must’ve literally deemed these words of some importance to have not passed them down in literature. She shifts, pulling her knees closer to her and leaning in to give a better listen. York would hear her repeat the words with a very convincing tongue. She was literally the girl studying language at a shindig. The distractions of Raphaline’s shedding and movements, for a time, is noted but not gaining the intellectual attention of the practiced scholar.

There would be a sudden shift in the air, even for those who remained sober. The last bard to join in the band weaved stories through magic, and that is what happened now. It's purpose to only aid in the experience of the ritual. Hands wave in magically fashion, the slight pull of arcane magic might be felt as the fire itself starts to dance in place calling the attention of those around. It hisses, and cracks loudly, sending embers up into the air. The experience for Eirik brings a small smile to his lips as he finally falls silent and gazes at the flames. The fire itself grows upwards, but under control and shifts into the shape of a human, one of Eiriks people. Mouth moving to imitate words as the rest of the spell continues. On the wind, a new addition to sound grows; also by way of magic, booming from the magical fire. "Eirik," the voice calls out. All can hear it speak, though for the two who are drugged, the experience awe-inspiring. The Northman begins scooping up handfuls of the paste, eyes shift to Raphaline, Valen and Sabrina before he starts to smear the substance over his skin. "We have heard the call," that same voice speaks. Suddenly the shape shifts into a wolf, eyes hungry while looking at Eirik. Once the paste had been applied to his body, the wolf charges head on, though the fire is only light, and literally disappears at it crashes into Eirik. The regular fire still burns brightly, and the magic fades. The Northmans visage now shifting, gaze hardening, mind rushing under the influence of rage. The addition to what Eirik felt is brought on by his own mind. The Lycan within. Abruptly he stands, eyes still staring at the fire.

Valen would have indeed heard her, but she looked different and may not have recognized her. She looked almost like a nymph now, entrancingly beautiful, gorgeous, fair...Jealousy stabbed at his heart now, and knew he could never have a face that fair no matter how hard he tried. The drums though, they spoke of something coming. Each beat of the drum, that percussive beat, acted as each stomp of the oncoming storms steps, whatever that manifestation would be. York was certainly starting to seem worried, and looked to Sabrina...finally speaking. "Shouldn't we do something??" With how loud though Eirik's voice was....could HE be the monster??? The one from his nightmares? The nymph had said to remain calm, and he was trying for such a being, so hard was he trying! But his heart was quivering, as was his resolve. At the sudden upshoot of the fire, that being what jarred him from his thoughts, he was quickly at his feet...as he stared at a mighty Ifrit! How did it know Eirik's name?! Was he in danger? No. No he would not let this happen! Then, it changed into a wolf...That much he saw, and as the magic flew and crashed into Eirik then dissappeared, it was all Valen could do to make his way over, avoiding the parts of the ground that gave way to fall into lava beneath them, and stand behind him for a moment...before leaning in to whisper something, then take a few steps back. He was scared, he was frightened, but he would still try to help as he thought everyone was in danger. Afterwards, he would try to follow after the Nymph (Raphaline) as it was showing him the steps to take, to lead him out of the dangers. (He is now dancing with her, naked but for the shadow loin cloth)

Valen whispered something to Eirik.

Raphaline isn’t disturbed by the sights or sounds, in fact, unless something seems to threaten the safety of others in the area, the bard merely watches from the corner of her eye, but continues to dance around the fire without a care. As Valen comes to join, she offers a hand to the vampire, inviting him to join her. How long has it been since the last time she got to just dance and enjoy the outdoors? Too long. She demonstrates a few steps to her new dance partner, a graceful spin and dip before offering him the room to do as much too. With the overwhelming sense of magic around her, she isn’t quite sure if it’s the alcohol sitting in her stomach or the magic that is beginning to make her head spin and her body to buzz. Either way, she releases the vampire’s hand and turns, emerald eyes falling upon the warrior and all his painted glory. Grinning, she moves towards him, daring to reach out to touch his right bicep with a gentle hand.

Sabrina pushed back on her feet when the fire form jumped into Eirik, for a moment her heart dropped and words were all but forgotten. He stands. He seems fine. Valen is all but lost and out of nowhere the Elfess laughs at York’s words. “No, we shouldn’t…. but maybe you should join our lover before he decides that his dancing partner is just his lover in some disguise. She points to the pair as well, the direction that York should take. It would so happen that this is the time the beautiful daner opts to switch loin cloths and the elfess’ smile falters slightly. Should Raphaline be touching him after the light show? Standing like that, was he even himself? Something felt unsettling but then, any number of social encounters seemed to bewilder the Healer to this day. So York would have his path, and Raphaline had claimed a new partner. It would seem the night would end with no drug induced casualties, allowing the woman to sit her back against Rohk and watch in silence. By now the hound had fallen asleep, it was probably for the better.

Eirik is completely lost to the swell within and seems completely unharmed. The additives of that paste now consumed his mind. Valens whispering falls upon a mind which does not comprehend anything beyond a savage, barbaric lust. A wanton need for destruction of others and himself. A veritable field of haze contorts his vision, twists the very fabric of reality in Eiriks mind. What's before him, is unknown, a phantom of the world he knew. Everything seemed gray and black despite the roaring fire. He had grown numb to anything but anger. Sights fall to the dancing duo, head twisting sideways gauging them both in the moment. Raphalines touch to bicep doesn't even register as dead eyes shift to her. It would be terribly evident that right now, Eirik, is not the man she knew. No clenching of jaw portrayed thoughts within his head. The usual smile to stretch over his scarred features at their closeness does not dance upon his bereft visage. The Lycans mind had shifted to something beyond this place. It berated any sense of humanity he carried; the Northman is now ready for war. Without any word, deliberate footsteps carry the mad-man to a nearby tree, which looked like a dead horrible thing in his mind, where all of his armor lay. The spot where he left everything including his weapons. The good thing about the fungi, is that the body counteracts it fast and Valen might find that those made up visions are fading from reality. For Eirik however, this doesn't change and Sabrina would know that with the final addition of herbs, Eirik would be gone or some time. But she would also know, that for a few days after coming down he would be bed ridden and in pain. The mentioned equipment is now donned, and Eirik turns to face the group, but no words are spoken. Perhaps he can't? Without any further word, the Northman disappears from sight presumably off to fight something or someone.

Valen would have indeed taken her hand, instantly, without a moment's hesitation, imitating at least once each of the moves shown to him, before using them freely at her departure from him, sad to see her go...but maybe the Nymph was going over to that handsome price to get him to join? Shame, that man was going to get a chest-cold. Luckily, Valen had all the accouterments of royalty once again on his person (Nope, still not even the bare necessities), as he made his way around the fire repeatedly...the world spinning, the stars swimming, the forest melting away. York would look to Sabrina, then to Valen, to Sabrina, then to Valen, as he steeled away his courage, and went to go join Valen in his 'Dance of Escape.' Either way as the forest was now melding back from that transcendent palace, almost familiar it was...like home, Valen would notice Eirik leave...a pain that he could not place due to the effects of the fungi...and then, the inevitable. The sensation of dread in his stomach, knots forming, a sickly pale coming to his face as he stood there....lost between drunk, high, and nauseous....staring into the distance. This was notgoing to be pretty.

Raphaline isn't upset by the sudden departure of the northman, instead, she turns her attention towards the vampire who looks like he might be sick. Carefully, she approaches him and York with an offered hand of reassurance. "Guess the effects are wearing off, no?" She glances towards Sabrina and nods towards the vampire, indicating that there might be a need for a healer here soon.

Sabrina fell back, nearly bouncing her head off the ground as the beast beneath her was suddenly gone as her brace. A quick flex of stomach muscles is all that saves her and for a moment she thanks what ever powers that be, that she does train on a regular bases. The ground was muddy… her hair is top priority. Her senses follow the stain of heat in the air, and somewhere off site Rohk had took to trailing the man. Where blackness was, surprising, the obsidian hound would fade as easily as the shadows in his heightened awareness. Eirik was being tracked, not hunted, and if it came down to it he would intervene if need be. Sabrina goes to Valen, a look of apology in her face. “Hunny… You realize my countermeasures are only good for the living, right?” She didn’t need to be told when someone was experiencing discomfort. Poor Valen, it was written all over his even paler face. “York?” She is kind in hushed words when she asks if there is a nearby place to take him. “But don’t let him lay flat. The world is going to spin.” Her eyes travel to Eirik’s departed path. She was worried, not so much for him but for what he might do. These drugs, in that particular combination were not recommended since they put the user first in a dreamlike state, and second to lean towards violence; what ever he would do, would be controlled by a primal part of the brain before reason could carry value. She taps Raphaline on the shoulder and starts off that way- not to interfere, but to maybe clean up any messes he might make.

Eirik did not bother to hang around the edges of camp. He was truly travelling far away and at any sign of noise his attention shifts, like a dog, but only momentarily. Like Rohk, he stayed within the trees wandering towards some far off destination.

Valen would continue to stand there, frozen, paralyzed with fear, as he was wont to do when about to get ill. It was just the way he was wired, as it meant all the contents in his stomach, all that blood, was about to be ejected. York though, being that sweet half-elf and lover that he was, would not need a second suggestion as he was quickly up and going to take a hand. If he could have talked, Valen would have thanked both females beyond measure for even the slightest assistance that they had just given, even if only words of truth or assurance. "I know." is all that he said to Sabrina, not impolitely, but short...as he did not wish to speak for an extended period of time...if at all. "Valen come on..." Looking to Sabrina, he would say "I'm going to take him to the spring maybe? He is always talking about the waters there being able to heal, if at the least, to Soothe? Maybe it can help settle his stomach." With that, he would already start to lead Valen towards those waters.

Raphaline helps out with Valen for as long as he and York are in the clearing. Once they are out of sight, she turns her gaze to Sabrina, a brow raised in question as she asks, “Do you think it safe to follow a drug induced lycan?” She had her own reservations about following him, most of them revolving around the last time she had been around a lycan on the hunt. She glances in the direction with which Eirik had taken off and adds, “How would we even follow him? I am a fast runner, but nothing compared to that.” And sure as hell’s fire, she wouldn’t be riding a horse either.

Sabrina had explained to Raphaline with a simple point to her temple. "We've been following him since he left." A flash of blackness shines across her eyes. What the hound knew, she knew, and this was the safest distance one could take. Rohk was her eyes, and if need be, Sabrina would not be so far away she couldn't protect potential victims. Those were her goal in this venture, because a victim would criminalize the Lycan, and we can't have that.