RP:Like Squeezing Blood from a Gorgon

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Background

Budding necromancer Cerys is sent out on a mission to collect ritual ingredients for the Necromancer's Guildmistress. So of course, the 'shopping list' is fraught with potentially lethal peril...

Dark Arena, Vailkrin

The arena is filled with various killed and undead as well. Several Zombies seem to be carrying corpses out of the arena, returning them to the masters they served. Many bodies here look disfigured and ill, clearly abominations constructed by Necromancers to serve in the gladiator like battles held here. Several of the other bodies though are completely normal. A battle must have recently gone on here, as the crowds of people step out of the entrance of the area. To your south is the way out, to your north is a path leading to the back of the arena.

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Kasyr shifts against one the arena wall again, in an attempt to settle into a position that isn't -quite- as uncomfortable, something that's made slightly difficult due to his trenchcoat and the overtly large broadsword that's slung across his back (moreso the latter item). Once he's relatively situated, he returns his focus to the bundle of papers in his hands; the latest in a long list of complaints and demands. It was the first and foremost on the pile that had both brought him to this area, and etched his expression into one of such terrible aggravation, that even the fidgeting of those peculiar calico-cat ears couldn't detract from his dour appearance- instead lending him a sort of anxious air. And he was certainly anxious to be out of here, so that he could go and do something worthwhile. "Vraiment. . .? I don't see how they get that figure for the restoration of this place. ...Et who the hell am I supposed to ask about this?!" Go figure, when the Revenant actually bothers to attend a meeting to discuss finances, the person who requested an audience with him is nowhere to be found.

Cerys had been wandering the city in search of this particular arena, a glassy-eyed dog with floppy ears trotting at her heel. The elven woman's hair was layered over her ears, hiding any apparent signs of her heritage, though her lithe physique and moderate height would certainly lend credence to any suspicions. She carries over her shoulder a sturdy pack, and on her hip an equally sturdy short sword. The young mage in her modest, monochromatic attire, searches about the place with the left eye flitting about of its own accord, and the right actually sticking to its owner's will. The left did spot the odd man grumbling about his papers, and her ears perk under her hair in reaction. She walks over, the blank-faced dog trailing behind with his ears perking with evident curiosity. "Sir, I am...seeking a creature I was told lurks near this place," she says, her voice somewhat stilted as if asking the request was a relative strain on her abilities.

Kasyr looks up from the papers, a conscious effort being made to suppress the sour expression which threatens to spill across his features. In the end, a strained neutrality is about the best he can manage, alongside a weary, "Oh? I'm seeking a creature, too. Mine happens to be of the two-legged persuasion, likely dressed up in whatever bit of foppish finery meets his tastes...et which seems to delight in making people wait on them." The revenant let's out a loud, and altogether pointless, exhale before he glances about the area, as though that particularly venomous description might summon forth some call of protest. None are forthcoming, however, which leaves Kasyr to simply continue, "Et how about your creature, es it ...mundane? Or are tu more interested in seeing what manner of creature the Arena might provide for fodder of late?"

Cerys merely lofts a near invisible brow toward the stranger as her left eye seems infatuated with those odd ears atop his head. Her right looks him in the face as she replies, "I...have not seen the being of which you speak." Her hand goes down to the strange dog's mane, fingers clenching in the short fur. "I do not remember if Gorgons are considered mundane for these lands or not. I need to collect some blood from it. How I accomplish that does not matter as long as I do so." She pauses, the smallest furrow appearing in her forehead, while her dog quirks its head up toward Kasyr in an almost comical fashion. "Why do you seek your...being?"

Kasyr can't help but frown a little, "It wasn't so much that I sought him, as he sought m.. er, me, en fait. He seemed quite intent on trying to convince moi to lend him support in the restoration of this Arena." With a shrug, the Kensai simply continues, "As for your creatures- there are some in the wilds, if you're of the inclination to hunt them down, but there is also the occasional one that finds it's way here, seeing as they serve as excellent entertainment." Despite this statement, the Kensai seems less than enthused, his attention drifting off towards one of the doorways leading into the arena, "Mm. You know. Perhaps he's there, tending to the creatures, or the premises. I should swing down, get a good look at the area. I mean, he no doubt intended to show me around, after all, " Likely with a focus on the spots that were in grave disrepair, "Maybe find him in the process. Et, perhaps you could go et inquire as to your request, perhaps make an arrangement with him?" And should the conversation go less than smoothly, Kasyr will effectively have a distraction, by the name of Cerys.

Cerys 's lips press into a line as she ponders this string of logic. Her right eye wanders toward the battle area proper with the stranger's suggestion. She gives him a short nod, her dog's tail thumping ever so little against the ground. "That sounds like a fair enough idea..." she replies. Her right eye looks the man over more properly now, while the left grows bored with his odd ears and flits about at every little noise and bit of rubble it can catch. There is a somewhat prolonged silence as Cerys awaits for the man to lead the way. "Why do you...seek him?" she asks, in attempt to politely break it. Those silences were not polite and often caused discomfort, she reminds herself, or so her sister had taught her once.

Kasyr , having secured himself a potential means of extricating himself from this situation, looks and sounds a bit less...dour, " So that he stops sending me a deluge of letters? I've had no shortage of kindling since he decided to focus his attentions upon me." The Kensai pushes himself up into a proper stand, before he merely begins to amble alongside the Arena wall- seemingly intent upon making his way towards one of the many side passages which lead deeper into the area, "I suppose 'To respectfully listen to his proposal and contemplate the means of properly instituting it, if possible' es the correct response. Though the option of 'Tell him no, et be done with it' sounds a bit more appealing." Kasyr offers a listless shrug to noone in particular, before he turns into one of the Arena's lower alcoves. This one in particular seems meant for those Arena 'Attendees' which are less impressive in stature- compromised of a simple rough cut entrance hewn into the Arena wall, the likes of which slopes down into a torch-lit passage way. A fairly short passage, given that it's navigated within a matter of moments, culminating in a dome like chamber. Unlike the relatively plain hallway, this room bears some form of decoration, albeit of morbid design- given that it's walls are flanked by a number of skeletons, the likes of which all seem to be positioned so that they are staring towards the center of the room, specifically towards the worn down stairss which seem to lead further into the Arena's depths. Kasyr takes this moment to glance at the decor, as though contemplating whether or not to give it a nudge, as though that might serve t discern their purpose.

Cerys 's forehead gains a few more wrinkles as they walk and he explains the situation with the man he seeks, or rather who sought him originally and rudely was nowhere to be found. "So you are an...authority in these parts?" she asks to further fill any potential silences. The elf's curious eye darts about the alcove once they enter, particularly toward the skeletons set up about the place. Her canine companion's blank stare contrasts oddly to the merry wagging of his tail as he pads along with them, apparently also pleased at the macabre decor. The elf's more focused eye stays fixed either ahead or on her temporary companion for the journey. "My, isn't this a charming room..." Cerys remarks, her voice not nearly as dry as it had been thus far.

Kasyr's poking elicits a deathly rattle from the skeletal recipient, the likes of which has the Kensai just staring at the entity, "...Entertaintment, or door guard. Er. anyways. As for moi- I'm a.... king here." The revenant shrugs, and turns away from the skeleton, before he slowly starts descending down the stairs. Thankfully, the revenants blessed with an uncanny sense of balance- if only because of the uneven and slick steps which would otherwise plague him every step, "It's a fancy title which boils down to paperwork, resolving petty matters, et the occasional disaster resolution." It's only when the Kensai has all but dissipated down the staircase that he glances up and asks, "Et tu? Why are tu running errands, as it were?" That said, Kasyr resumes descending the stairs, mildly grateful for the fact that he doesn't need to breathe in the pungent scent of mold, rotted flesh, and offal which is wafting up from the recesses of this particular area.

Cerys 's footsteps make hardly a sound on the steps, the elf's footing sure enough by virtue of her race alone, though every once in awhile her gloved hands will go out to steady a potential stumble here and there. "My apologies, your majesty. Tales make a king's work... sound less tedious. Of which region?" When more confident in her strides, however, the young elf reaches into a pouch at her belt, enchanted like most should be in a land where items can quickly pile up over time, and pulls out an eye-patch of all things. Despite the fact her ability to see is gradually dimming due to the growing lack of proper lighting, she donns the article over her left eye, letting it wander in premature blackness rather than at something that might turn her to stone if stared at wrong. One of the elf's small hands rests on the hilt of the short sword once that little task is done, her right eye doing the purposeful exploring of the narrow walls. "I was recently inducted into a guild and as a novice and apprentice, I have been sent to fetch certain materials," she says, the explanation rather vague. Her dark clothing and the sort of material she needed from the Gorgon was perhaps indicative enough of which guild she meant. Either that or the fact that, as the putrid smell of decay grew thicker, her nose didn't flinch once, and the odor of the dog so loyally climbing at her heel seemed to blend in just fine with the surrounding air.

Kasyr makes a vague sidelong gesture, as though shooing something or perhaps directing attention to the broken sconce off to his side, "Kasyr. Ou Kas. Not your majesty. I don't exactly claim dominion over vous, or quoi-ce-soit. As for the region, I'm head of the vampire houses within Vailkrin. King of the vampires as it were.. " With a grumpy mumble of, 'Lord of filed taxes and accumulated complaints' tacked on for good measure. Still, it's not long before the Revenant allows himself to crack some sort of grin, however subtle, "Jolie's lot, peut-etre? I did notice you had something to address with her." A pause, and the Kensai adds, "As a note, if I am right, et tu just happen to be the sort that doesn't...relish your profession. You might be better off telling people you're a ...practitioner of alternative magics. I mean, as long as they don't ask what it's an alternative of. Honetement, it sounds less shady. Well. No. It sounds shadier, but in a con artist type way." By this point the Revenants reached the ending of the stairwell, and in somewhat higher spirits- though he's fairly quick to take note of both the battered pile of lantern sconces that have apparently accumulated near the bottom of the stairs, and the bent metal door leading into the main area, "Okay. So. It's entirely possible that the demand for renovation funding es in fact well founded."

Cerys 's left eye darts toward the man's ears, despite the barrier of the patch, upon realizing where it had seen them before. "A pleasure, m'lord Kasyr. I am Cerys. And I did not specify which guild I had recently been initiated to, though you have a valid point considering the perceptions of others," she says, idly tapping her chin with consideration. "You know the Thanatos Domina then. For now, I am merely a mage collecting eccentric ingredients..." The elf's eyes were accustomed to dim lighting, but it seems to be taking awhile for her eyes to adjust as she squints toward the door. "Why is this arena in such disrepair?" she asks as her slipper crunches against a few shards of glass one of the sconces. "A few other parts of the city struck me as this way..."

Kasyr is once more engaged in the time honoured tradition of poking things. In this case, he's giving the door a good few solid prods, the likes of which seem to be enough to coax the thing to squeal on it's hinges, and tilt further askew, "Well, there was a civil war. Then a giant dragon attack. Et then after that, there was.. uh. An invasion. Of things. That last one es a bit tricky to describe, en fait. But anyways." With a shrug, the Revenant pushes the door aside, before striding further inwards, his gaze flitting over the maze-like assortment of cells that lay within. "Whilst efforts have been made towards repair work in general- I'll confess that some areas of the city aren't so easy... to restore." Stuffing his hands into his pockets, the Kensai begins to make his way down the hallways, occasionally tossing a sideways glance towards the cages. Really, there's a diverse assortment of creatures that rest within those cells, both living and undead- but it's the empty cells that arrest the Kensai's attention the most. "I swear, if he's tossed a bunch of creatures out to save on food costs..." Whatever the Revenant was going to say is interrupted at about that point, as the vexsome sound of someone whistling lilts through the air. "..Well. I suppose I can ask him."

Cerys drifts even more toward the wall as they wander between the cages, keeping her pointed ears perked for the king's voice in case he should go too far ahead without her. Her delicate fingers brush over the bars of a few cages, her right eye peering through to try and catch the creatures that may lie within, or feel any weaknesses within the bars. "Things certainly have changed since my family lived here..." she mutters before speaking up. "Perhaps something may have escaped?" The query is made before her ears perk enough to peek through her pale hair at the whistling. She picks up her pace, no longer indulging her fascination for the cages or their inhabitants.

Kasyr wheels around a corner, the sound of the whistling seeming to grow at once louder and more insistent. In response to Cerys words, the Kensai merely offers a grunt, at first, though he can't help but add, "Family?" with a meaningful wiggle of ears following. That aside, however, his focus seems to rest with the corridor itself- with the sanguine droplets which seem to be spattered along the floor- and the manner in which the cell bars seem to be distorted, as though something had perhaps been flung into them. What marked them as curious, however, is that the distortion simply continues to drag across for some distance, before simply trailing off. Even odder still, is that one of the cell doors display the exact -opposite effect- appearing as though it burst asunder from some great interior force. From further down, the whistling grows more intense still, almost desperate.

Cerys merely nods with a muttered, "Yes, when I was young." Her heart picks up in her chest as she feels her slipper slide over the slick splatters covering the floor. Her hand goes for that sword at her hip, grasping a hilt just her size, though her grip on it is a bit awkward as if not made for her hand. "Something tells me my theory was not so far off..." she says in a lower tone, her thin nose wrinkling ever so little at the whistling's tone against her sensitive ears.

Kasyr's pace has since increased, the Kensai falling into an outright jog towards the corner. It's only when he nears that particular hurdle that his pace slows down once more, by means of an all too abrupt skidding halt which ends with him just barely crossing into the next passage. The scene is far different from the one Cerys slipped over; as it's not strictly the floor that's spattered crimson. Gobbets of flesh, gnawed on by all appearance, rest strewn across the passageway, wedged between cell bars, and a few stray bursts are even smeared across the ceiling, as though something burst upon impact. What makes the scene of this slaughter particularly worrisome, however, is the misshapen mounds of stone that rest scattered across the hallway, nestled amongst tattered cloth. It doesn't take much more than a cursory glance to reveal themselves as limbs, ranging from torso's to legs, and few other..odds and ends. Suffice to say, the Arena staff have not fared well, lately. A resounding crunch of metal sounds off from further ahead- mingled with another desperate bit of whistling. Clearly, someone wanted their attention, "I'll ask later."

Cerys is sure to keep up, her strides getting longer, though at a distance as she draws the sword with nary a hint of the blade scraping across the sheath. In the palm of her free hand, the tiny hint of a glow begins forming after the woman mutters a short phrase. Her eye stay dead ahead, focused on the revenant through the dim illumination, if any was left at this point. Her sight had adjusted enough to look down upon her foot bumping against what should have been a clear path: the felled arm of an apparent statue. Her eye stays focused on the floor right then, the glow in her hand extinguishing in favor of her rifling through the pouch at her belt so she can take out a small circular hand mirror with a handle. It is through this mirror her eye watches the area in front of her, her steps treading a bit more carefully as her ears perk so they can remain alert. "Can I safely guess these are not statues?" she asks in a severe undertone, almost inaudible.

Kasyr can't help but offer a dry, "They're pretty statuesque now~ I can't account for earlier, though." That scraping metallic sound grows louder still, until it abruptly cuts out- replaced by a loud metallic clattering noise, and a staccato of rapidly approaching thuds. By this point, even the Kensai is readying himself for a conflict, his right hand clutching upon his swords hilt even as he wheels around yet another of the Arena's winding corridors. "Er.." Suffice to say, he's even quicker to lunge back the way he came, however, as the battered remnants of a cage door are sent crashing towards the position he formerly occupied, a cacophonous clang ringing through the air. And that unnatural vampiric swiftness is put to good use in picking himself up off the floor even as a large shape charges into the corridor- slamming against the wall just mere moments after the door had impacted into it, a loud snuffling growl sounding out through the air. Even despite the dim lighting, the creature is large enough that the details aren't too difficult to pick out. Hunkered down upon all fours, the creature was a bulky, powerful beast- it's limbs and body reminiscent of a bear, albeit of such stature that even a dire bear might be dwarfed by it. That being said, the things head is certainly at ends with the rest of it's body- as fur gives way to a helter-skelter patchwork of feathers, the likes of which frame beady yellow eyes, and a large beak. The unpleasent sounding Squawk the creature makes could almost be considered comical, were it not for the manner it quickly degenerates into a shriek- heralding the creatures abrupt charge down the hallway. Suffice to say, the Kensai's already in the process of a tactical retreat, intent upon finding the first open cell they pass by, and side stepping into it. And Cerys, should she be in arms reach, will likely find herself tugged inside, if she doesn't have her own agenda to pursue.

Cerys is glad she kept a decent distance between her and her guide as the bars come crashing only a few feet away from the elf. She takes a step back, angling the mirror so she can catch the large shape crowding the hallway. She could make out a silhouette of fur, feathers, no scales. She doesn't pout away the mirror just yet, but does raise her gaze back up toward the thing in time to catch it charging. As Kasyr whizzes past her, she doesn't stray far behind, though her pace is hindered when she trips over one of those hulking stone limbs scattered all over the place. It's only by some miracle she doesn't lose her footing, but the next she looks ahead of her from the ground, the guide is gone. The dog so loyally padding at the girl's heel earlier had stayed back, growling and barking with impressive courage and ferocity for those floppy ears and blank expression it still wears as it leaps at the chimera-like creature. Perhaps it would buy his master time, perhaps it wouldn't, but Cerys was going full tilt in the opposite direction until she finds her arm yanked rather abruptly within one of the nearby cells. She's caught too much off guard to resist the move, but thinking that the vampire had abandoned her with good reason, her sword arm flails toward the unknown asailant in the relative darkness, especially since she had been grabbed on her left side where the eye-patch still shrouded her vision.

Kasyr relinquishes Cerys arm the moment her weapon flails out, to at once reduce the momentum of the oncoming blade (by virtue of his pull) and to remove the balance his position technically provides, with the intention of setting her into a stumble. Moreover, it allows him to redirect the hand that had been tugging her into the path of her strike, the Mithril-mesh gloves he's always sporting serving as the weapons point of impact. It only dawns on Kasyr -after- Cerys sword has richocheted off his gloves, that she's likely still off-balance and a bit of assistance might be appreciated. Something which prompts him, belatedly, to reach out and in an effort to grab hold of her wrist. Specifically her sword wielding wrist, in case she's still stab-happy. "Hey-" Whatever else the Revenant was going to say is cut off by a piercing shriek, and the unpleasant sound of meat being shorn apart that ensues. For a moment, the only thing audible is the sound of popping bones and strangled growls, until a small shape is sent hurtling down the passage past the cell both Kasyr and Cerys are currently occupying, landing somewhere nearby with a few meaty thuds. Any attempts to investigate are no doubt going to be short lived, given that the massive form of the peculiar Chimeric-Creation is padding it's way into view, a brutish malice gleaming within the gaze it fixates upon the two individuals within the cell. It's about this point that the Kensai bothers to actually glance around the cell he's in. The cell door, thankfully, is smaller than the creature by a fair bit, even with the violent distortions which seem to indicate the door had been pried apart, or attacked. That being said, the decor was questionable at best, considering the walls, corners, and even chunks of the ceiling seemed to be thick with webbing- Possibly indications of the cells former tenants. Understandably enough, the Kensai is reaching towards his broadsword at about this point.

Cerys gasps at the familiar voice and is grateful for the maneuver that puts her back to balance, yet her hand was already groping for a wall or something to grab, only coming away sticky with web. Her breathing had picked up with her heart, not only because of the physical exhertion. The gnarled yelps of her creature and its even more mangled carcass sail past the entrance and she severs the magical connection to it moments after. Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment, feeling that broken link and focusing on the image of those floppy ears before her right eye opens and she wipes her webbed hand off on her dress. She jumps as the chimera comes into view, it's slavering beak oozing with still-wet blood. It gives another squawking bellow, charging toward the entrance, to be stopped short by the stone squeezing against its shoulders. Cracks do appear in the wall, though, and not insignificant ones. Perhaps that had only been a testing blow. "What do you propose we do now that we are cornered?" the elf asks, before she utters that phrase that set her hand aglow earlier. Instead, that orange glow weaves about her sword and small flames lick off the blade, coloring it almost gold.

Kasyr finally unslings that blackened broadsword, Vesper, from his back, taking some care not to catch Cerys in it's arc as he levels it in front of himself. All said and done, it's a task that's made somewhat complicated if only due to the weapons great width, in tandem with the cells naturally confining nature. The Owl-bear, for it's part, seems to back up for a moment; lurching away from the entrance and onto it's hind paws so as to draw it's head scraping up into an uncomfortable position against the ceiling. All pretenses of it's possible retreat are rapidly discarded, however, as it's body comes crashing downwards- it's monstrous forepaws slamming into cell bars that were never made for this particular creature, rending them apart by virtue of sheer weight and brute force. Not sparing a moment, it's face rams into the created opening, evening as it's shoulders once more collide into the the entryway's stone, ceding all the more under impact. "Make a carpet." Kasyr, for his part, hops away from the imminent threat posed by it's beak, the slight bound back used to draw his blade up higher, before it's brought crashing down onto the beasts skull- the Kensai seemingly intent on abusing his unnaturally large reserves of strength and Vespers uncanny weight in an effort to slam the Owl bears skull into the ground and dissuade it, even momentary from pressing it's advantage. "Maybe a feather duster."

Cerys jumps back further into the back corner of the wall, out of the arc of that large sword and out of the direct path of the creature's pointy maw. "It might make a fabulous coat," she comments back with a grunt, her expression blank, though her single visible eye is wider than usual. She presses herself further into that corner, and into a nest of further webbing. Above Kasyr's head there seems to be a concentrated ball of the stuff, almost a sack. And as the gargantuan creature twists the bars of the entryway with its sheer weight, that sack begins trembling. Perhaps in reaction, though a few spines suddenly stab out from within the thing... The young elf doesn't notice such, however, as all of her senses are focused on avoiding the most present threat. The creature's head whips at such an angle at the last minute that it caught the flat of the blade against its neck. A terrible shriek rocks the cell, making Cerys' usually smooth face scrunch up in evident pain. Sometimes it sucked being an elf.

Kasyr 's not exactly having a picnic either, the terrible din produced by it's cries enough to force his his felinesque ears into flattening against his skull. Suffice to say, the experience is unpleasant, enough so to precipitate the Revenant into displaying one of the more destructive aspects of his swordsmanship- despite it's ramifications. That singular decision is all it takes to paint the room in an erratic wash of light, as a sudden surge of electrical sparks travels up along his swordbearing arm, if only to coil about his weapon. Even as the conjuration of this particular energies begins to erode away at the flesh of his right hand, he pays it no heed. Even facing this, the Owlish-ursine monstrosity merely let's out a shriek, before it sends body heaving forward against the stone, forcing more of it's girth into the cell, bits of debris sent clattering into the increasingly crowded room, it's beak hammering against the floor as it sought to scrabble towards it's intended prey. Which is about the point the Revenants blade abruptly arcs upwards in a surreally swift motion, carving up across the Owl-Bears face and through it's left eye, a crackling trail of electrical energy left in the blades wake. "Maybe a steak." And just like that, the room was darkened once more- the pair left to stare at the Owl-Bear as it reared back and let out a deafening howl, the likes of which only ends when it slams it's forepaws violently against the ground- exercising it's fury before it began to heave forward once more, a desperate rage now burning withn it's remaining yellow eye. "Depth perception. Mm." Comments aside, the Kensai remains either ignorant or indifferent to the bundle of webbing above his head, even as it begins to shudder and twist under the internal assault of spines and needle like limbs. Bit by bit they begin to emerge through the netting. More and more, they begin to shear apart the nest that now serves as their prison, unveiling a confusion of chittering maws and shiny black eyes.

Cerys 's ears were low enough that there was no hope of discerning them through her hair now, and much of her wishes she could do as the revenant did in order to muffle that great howl coming from the assailing creature. She tenses up and the flames around the sword light the room anew as they flare up and the elf begins panting with the effort spent to sustain them at that level. "It will certainly taste...unique," she says, playing along with the commentary, despite the fact her heart hammers in her chest and a hot sweat breaks out along her skin from a combination of her magic and fear. The flames shoot out toward the chimera as it charges for another assault, seeking to engulf all they can outside of the cell, despite that its caster was nearly heaving over at that point to do a thorough job of, hopefully, frying the creature's upper half. The mess of beady eyes make themselves known by letting out a frightful 'skreeee!' upon feeling the heat of those flames, wriggling to retreat the sack as any grogginess they felt from just hatching was worn away by that one instinct. Soon enough, hunger would add itself to the mix, and three fleshy--albeit potentially charbroiled--beings would be standing there like a feast on a silver platter.

Kasyr can only watch as Cerys bit of pyre-related proficiency manifests itself, and the exceedingly violent panic that seems to engulf the Owl-Bear. Within a few breathes span, the beast is reduced from a confident predator, to a flailing mass of flaming fur and feathers- half-blind to the world, and desperate to extricate itself from the cell it had stubbornly sought to force it's way into. Kasyr's attention is dragged away from this morbid development by the unpleasant, 'Skree'ing' noise that comes from above. What's currently skittering across the ceiling and towards a wall, is an altogether unpleasant looking 'arachnid' though the term should be used loosely; whilst it does have the traditional 8 legs of a spider, it's elongated body also sports a plethora of spikes arranged in a ridge like manner between it's legs, looking like some unhallowed cross between vestigial limbs and implements of murder meant for whatever that particular creepy crawly lands on. The peculiar bone-like plating along it's back, the likes of which is separated into segmented slats, looks fairly odd, too. "...Torch the webs, S'il-te-plait." And with that said, the Revenant promptly vacates the position he was occupying- launching himself towards the cooking Chimeric beastie. It's during this headlong hurtle that the Revenant finally brings his blade, Vesper, crashing back down- effectively carving out a meaty chunk of the owl bear's eye, and incidentally obliterating it's remaining eye under his weapons obscene weight. Even before the Kensai has time to land, it's right forepaw lashes out towards his position- something which forces him to interpose Vesper between himself and that flaming foreclaw to spare himself an unfortunate mauling. That being said, it does nothing to prevent the momentum behind that blow to send him crashing against one of the cell walls. Either way, fully blind, and still burning as fiercely as before, it's no wonder that when the creature finally finishes freeing itself from the room, it's only so it can flee down the corridors- leaving a ruin of flaming fur in it's wake.

Cerys , by now, is breathing hard, doubled over on the ground as the flames of her sword die down to that heated glow once more. She begins to hack droplets of blood about the already bloodied ground as if a lung would launch from her mouth. Her head pounds horribly as the after-effects of that magic rush over her body, but she bites down on her lower lip hard, her right eye twitching toward the mess of skritching quickly moving about the walls. Parts of her still caught on the webs, she compromises as the vampire deals with the owl-bear, of which she was luckily out of range of that reaching paw. She rises to her feet, her movements a bit more jerky than before, and hacks away at the webs with her blade as if it were a glowing brand. It has about the same effect as she extends little tendrils of power out from the blade to make a far more economical use of the magic to start little fires throughout the webs. That takes care of quite a few of the creatures still attached, but it wasn't that quick to spread. "Shall we...get out of...here?" she asks, becoming a bit more winded from her efforts.

Kasyr is a resilient fellow, if his habit of tangling with dragons, (and surviving the occasional saurian stomp), are any indication. So once Cerys announces her intentions, he begins to pull himself up to his feet- though the matter is made somewhat more complicated due to the sheer mass of web which is adhering to the back of his trenchcoat. It's only after a few brief flails that the Revenant finally loses his patience, and begins to focus. At once, the scent of burnt ozone begins to fill the air, before a latticework of electrical energy begins to creep across the Revenants skin, it's arcs forming an erratic web about his form. That said, this particular 'web' is not compatible with the spider-silk the Revenant has enmeshed himself within- the latter smouldering with contact, before falling away from the Kensai's form. A few more fails ensue, for good measure, and to ensure there's no clumps of webbing still adhering to him, before he proceeds to offer Cerys a nod, and start shuffling out of the room- though he's certain to look both ways before he exits the room. Suffice to say, the coat is clear, minus the path of flaming destruction that leads down one end. During this time, Kasyr has not been the only one resolving sticky situations- the peculiar spider-like creature having found itself increasingly cornered on a flaming web. Faced with the impending inferno, it's reaction is instinctual, it's body curling in upon itself, so that it's body is entirely encapsulated with a roughly spherical shape- that odd combination of spikes and boney slats essentially serving as a shell. Coiled as such, and with the flames devouring it's web, it's not long before it plummets to the ground, though it remains coiled. Instead, a small number of spines from dislodge itself from it's shell, in an effort to push off against the ground, and start it rolling along. And hopefully away from the fire producing predators. Maybe it can go track down the wounded mass of cooked meat.

Cerys winces at the increased heat as the man's lightning adds to the remnants of her fiery pest control. By this point her left eye had escaped the patch ever so little in the commotion of the last two creature attacks and she takes a moment to straighten it with the somewhat trembling heel of the hand holding the mirror. Her head is still pounding, but at least the coughing stopped. She manages to keep her clenching stomach and rickety balance under enough control that she is able to keep up with Kasyr's pace once the two of them were out of the cell and back into the hallway proper. Those stone limbs come back to mind as the principal reason for why she was at the arena in the first place settles itself back at the top of her priorities. "I propose we head the way of those 'statues' to look for the being you are supposed to meet with," she says, having regained her steadiness of voice much quicker with the addition of more straightforward goal. Of course, despite the fact she didn't want to alert any more creatures to their presence, she also felt the need to further cultivate her abilities at small talk. "You are...a mage as well as...a king?"

Kasyr pauses, albeit just long enough to draw Vesper up and sling it over his shoulder, his right right hand coiled tightly about the hilt- so that he's ready in case of further complications. It's during this process that Cerys receives an answer to her initial statement, the revenant offering a grunted, "Yeah." It's only after they're moving once more, that he bothers to reply to her secondary statement, "Not exactly. What I do es not...magic in the sense of magery. It's a long story, but it sums up as ...it's one of those innate things. I'm more of a swordsman, than anything, albeit with an array of talents meant to..er...C'est quoi le, " It's only after a brief moment of pensivity that the Kensai snaps his fingers together, "Facilitate the maiming et murder of things." The kensai can't help but pausing when they reach the corner of the hallway, his attention briefly drifting towards the crumpled cell door imbedded in the wall. "You know, It's occured to moi, I should probably ask you to check corners before I just amble around them." Really, whilst the Revenants unnatural enough that he probably won't petrify instantaneously, especially given his relative level of potency- he's still not experimenting. And even if it did pan out, partial petrifaction wasn't all that pleasant in itself- as Ishataulak had demonstrated to the Kensai.

Cerys was not one to point out such an idea, since he had the self proclaimed talent of maiming and murdering. She had resumed peering at the world through her mirror, not that she could see too much of anything by this point. Her eyes were gradually growing accustomed enough to pick out the general shape of things. She gives a small nod, and the hint of a grin tugs at her usual line of a mouth. The elf increases her pace in order to walk ahead of the vampire, and she edges along the wall, angling her mirror just so in order to catch a glimpse of whatever lay there in silence. From what she can tell, there are many hard lumps piled up, a few of them man-shaped, though unmoving further down--the few staff the owl-bear hadn't rammed through just yet, no doubt. There seems to be something rounded and smooth at the very end of the next corridor, and the elf squints, trying to make it out. It could be a giant egg, or an altar, or any sort of creature curled up into a ball. She uses her hand to gesture to the mirror and speaks in an undertone, "What does your vision make of this?"

Kasyr isn't entirely responsive, at first, a somewhat vacant gaze having cross his face, as he strained and wiggled his ears in search of that whistling noise from earlier. That said, beyond Cerys hushed inquiry, there seemed to be nothing else- that desperate, shrill sound no longer audible. With a quiet sigh, the Revenant simply shakes his head, before he directs his focus down towards Cerys mirror- endeavouring to scrutinze the scene displayed within the glass, despite the corridors lacking light. Suffice to say, it doesn't really inspire him towards any conclusions, "Give me a second." Which is all the warning Cerys gets, before the Kensai leans down, grabs hold of a petrified chunk of arm, and promptly hucks it down the hallway towards the rounded thing at the end of the hallway. It's with an altogether comical 'Thunk' the limb impacts into the item's mass, causing that bulky shadow to abruptly lurch back- and into the path of the petrified appendage as the momentum from it's bounce is lost, something which coaxes an oddly familiar whistling noise from that shadowy shape. "Application over theory. Also, why I'm not a mage." It's still produced results, however, given that the shadow is currently in the process of rapidly unfurling itself into an elongated shape.

"You were one of those annoying children that poked the animals at the zoo, weren't you?" It may have been an attempt at humor if it weren't for any hint of that grin disappearing as she watches the shape become a bit more specific within the mirror. Her ears perk toward that whistling suddenly piercing the silence, despite the fact it grated against her nerves quite unpleasantly. So that's where it was coming from? The shadowy figure seems more sleek, smooth, unlike that ursine crossed fowl earlier. A small line appears between her thin brows as it occurs to her this might just be the creature she was looking for to begin with. That was certainly sooner than she expected to find it... Now what? Her thin fingers tighten around her sword, though she didn't seek to douse the blade's heated glow just yet. "Well, there goes any hope of the element of surprise. You would not mind distracting it with a few of those maiming talents you spoke of, would you?"

Kasyr , despite the impending peril of their situation, can't help but look a little bit pensive, "You know, I can't recall ever being to a zoo as a child... ..Er." The kensai glances down at the mirror, and the serpentine shape barreling down the corridor in it's reflection, before he re-directs his attention towards Cerys, "Place and time, right. So.." He cants his head towards his sword, "I can do that~ though I'm a bit more partial towards those of a murderous inclination..." As though invoked, motes of sparking electricity begin to accumulate about the Revenants blade, like countless fireflies birthing and dying spontaneously; washing the corridor in a harsh, yet ephemeral glare. Beneath that stroboscopic lighting, the Gorgon's motions appear jerked- bathed in darkness one moment, then keenly defined the next. It's during this nightmarish advance that the gorgon's features might become apparent, the beast bearing a build reminiscent of a Naga's, and yet slighter and far more length. What's more, what 'humanity' that might exist within a naga is wholly lacking here, no ounce of flesh unscaled or unmarred- presenting a hideous visage to the world, one crowned by a writhing nest of snakes about her features..and heralded by a vexsome cross between a whistle and a hiss. Kasyr, for his part, doesn't really seem to be paying attention- though considering a palm sized portion of his left forearm is dissolving into electrical energy, and leaving a bloody mess in it's wake. . . It's understandable.

The consistent electrical current certainly slows the lengthy creature down as it's formerly smooth slithering becomes a spurratic jerking motion as it stubbornly continues onward, now hell-bent on eliminating the source of that near constant pain. Cerys, for her part, watches the reflection in the mirror with morbid fascination, trying to discern the exact look of the writhing features of the snake-woman as they gradually near. "Be sure not to roast it too thoroughly!" the elf reprimands. "I need it's blood still liquified." Though the girl isn't too sure how to go about that, considering even the caster was being cooked by his own sword's electricity. Throughout the stream coursing through her system, the gorgon somehow manages to heft up a petrified calf and a head in her jerking grip. With a shrieking hiss, it chucks the leg toward the vampire's head and the head at the elf's mirror. The head's aim proves true as it crashes into the reflective surface and shatters it instantly upon collision, which also sends their only way of safely seeing the creature flying backwards out of Cerys' hand. Whether the leg's result was just as effective, time would tell, but if it bought the gorgon a pause in the attack, she would take advantage of it with a much more aggressive pace. Playtime with her aggravators was over.

Kasyr isn't -intentionally- frying the Gorgon; More or less, it's a happy side effect derived from his efforts in generating a sufficient amount of electrical energy- with some portions of the excess arcing out towards their less-than-amiable aggressor. Still, the Kensai's all but prepped to retort, "Next you'll be asking for a handb-oof." Suffice to say, the Revenant finds himself staggering back from the unexpected meeting of foot-meets-face, though the combined weight of his coat and sword serve to ground him enough that he doesn't lose his footing- incidentally averting an accidental tipping of his head upwards. Whatever the case, the Revenant was no longer generating any more power- something that would give the Gorgon the opening she sought, to close the distance. On the other hand, it also provides Kasyr with proximity, something he's quite swift in taking advantage of. Without a second through, the Kensai grasps hold of his blade, Vesper, and swings it towards the wall in a broad upwards slash- cleaving through the stone with a surprising amount of ease, if only due to the unnatural strength his body possesses. No doubt, the Gorgon might mistake it for some panicked, blind swing that was initiated far too early- and yet, it could not be farther from the truth. It's with a crash akin to a peal of thunder that the Revenants ploy is revealed, as the energy he had built up and stored within himself is released through the blade that serves as his conduit- unleashing a raw shockwave of kinetic force that rips apart the wall surrounding it, effectively calling forth a mass of stony shrapnel, and rocky chunks to shred into and potentially bury the gorgon. It also serves to dislodge the Kensai's weapon, so he can draw it in front of himself, to serve as a pre-emptive means of shielding his line of sight.

Cerys 's visible eye widens with shock as it watches the mirror fly out of her fingers and shatter. She freezes a moment before that eye goes down to the floor. She did not have the advantage of undeath that afforded her to test her luck upon looking directly into that serpentine gaze. She turns her attention to her ears, would listen to the slithering of the gorgon to try and discern its location on her other senses. One of her chief senses was drowned out by the force exploding against the rock wall. The gorgon herself, well, that mess of shrapnel at first makes the whistle all the higher pitched--which made Cerys close her palms over her ears to muffle the piercing shriek--as the rocks smack against her hide. She goes to whip her tail out toward Kasyr, since at that range she was close enough to reach him with that lengthy stretch of muscle. The whip-like motion continues, even as the larger rocks slam down on her body and indeed bury her beneath the stone. Would the creature stay there or was it nearly stunned for the time being?

Kasyr, though bereft of any sort of direct vision, is still able to perceive the oncoming assault- an odd combination of a warriors foresight, in tandem with empathy allowing him to discern the Gorgon's hateful presence, despite both obscured vision and deafening din. It's enough to coax him into abruptly shifting his attention down towards the ground, thus allowing the Revenant to redirect Vesper from it's defensive state- specifically to bring the weapons blade hurtling into the trajectory of the Gorgon's tail. The blow is powerful, to be sure, fueled by both a bestial rage and the considerable amount of muscle power that is able to be exerted by said serpentine form; And yet it works to the beast's detriment, as it effectively rams it's flesh through Vespers edge- severing a portion of it's body. For all it's troubles, it only manages to stagger the Kensai- something which provokes one more hateful whistling hiss from it's gap-toothed maw, before a good portion of the ceiling collaspses on it. Kasyr, for his part, takes that moment to abruptly slam the flat of his sword against a portion of the debris that has landed on said grievously Gap-toothed Gorgon- in an effort to exert enough force on the rubble to hopefully crush what's beneath. And considering that Vespers weight is such that it -crushes- in the stone blocks that it comes in contact with. . .

Cerys hunches down avoiding the worst of the tail suddenly hurling toward her head, consequence of being hacked off in mid-swing. However, she is knocked to her back as said hunk of muscle leaves a massive welt. The sound of squishing and crunching comes from beneath the rocks, as well as a final whistle from beneath those teeth. It was a rather sickening noise when combined with the array of bodily fluids that leaks from between that shattered rubble. Blood, guts and some other kind of gore that smells suspiciously of an over-used bedpan. Cerys' nose wrinkles as she gets that particular odor stuck in her nostrils. She groans as she gets to her feet and begins digging through her pouch, trying to find that one vial by feeling alone, since the world around her seems to spin and double. She stabilizes herself with one hand as she takes out the sought after container and bends down to the hunk of tail and the blood oozing from its edges. Now to collect her desired prize... "Ngh....That was, impressive."

Kasyr's nose briefly crinkles at that rank scent, before he simply shakes his head and backs away from the debris, allowing Cerys free reign to sift through it to her hearts content. In the mean-time, the Revenant simply sidles up to a wall and lean up against it, by which point he proceeds to cup his mouth and lazily call out, "Anyone still alive in here? If you don't answer, I am not obligated to rescue you, nor attend any appointments you have alloted for moi." That said, the Kensai simply folds his arms across his chest, and waits. At this point, he was simply relying on whether or not he got a response- given that his empathy wasn't really going to be providing him any answers in an area that was rife with life, and thus emotions. In the meantime, Cerys is offered a glance, "I'd recommend getting a hunting party in future, as a note. If you intend on doing something like this, again."

Cerys makes sure to fill up two of the vials as her focus clears ever so little enough for her to fetch it from her pouch. "Better yet, is anything still asleep so we may wake it up and it may try to kill us?" Cerys says with a tinge of humor behind her sarcasm. The blood from the tail seemed like enough, didn't want the ingredient spoiled by excess outside fluids. "Where would one like me get a hunting party, hmm? I hardly have enough coin to my name to merit hiring a band of bounty hunters effective enough to take down a brute like this." She stands, wobbling a bit as she leans a hand against the nearby wall and cups her forehead. "The responsibility falls to you to clean this mess up, does it not, your majesty?"

Kasyr looks a bit thoughtful at her initial remark, "You'd think most things would go away from the trail of destruction. Not to mention the burning mass of bear-et-bird." With a whimsical shrug, the Kensai peels away from the wall, one hand fumbling towards where he had propped his sword, "J'en sais pas. There's enough reckless thrill seekers around, if you know where to look. Et something like a gorgon likely has alot of intrinsic worth, et what have you." The revenants in the midst of dragging his sword back up to his shoulder when he catches Cerys last remark, something which has him cringing, "It's -Kasyr-, or Kas. Ou Ashen, if you want to get fancy. But please, spare moi the 'your majesty' part. If I hear that, it's usually in conjunction with.. Well." There's a vague gesture towards the debris, "Related things. Which, yes, I'll have to find some means to rectify." With as little work as possible, goes unsaid.

Cerys lips quirk a bit with the king's last correction. "Ashen sounds suitable enough," she replies before that hint of a grin goes back to a line. "I merely used it as a reference to your title and the attached responsibilities. You do not seem to enjoy your work." She glances to the pile of mush then, concerning the man's first remark regarding the worth of such a beast. "Hmm...I am not quite sure how much worth something that carried that smell would be. I have heard stories of ones using the head for various means, but unless you can hunt down the eyes in tact somewhere in that...mess." A gorgon eye might be useful, however, to replace that wandering left eye of hers. The idea sounded attractive.

Kasyr begins to walk away, though he makes certain to keep his pacing moderate, "If you want to rummage around, be my guest, though do be quick about it? I don't actually know how much damage I did to the hallway. Maybe you can go sell some 'Spleen-of-Snake-Lady' to someone needing a miracle tincture, if there's no practical uses for your finds." As the revenant rambles, his left hand moves over towards his forehead, if only to tug down the goggles which were perched there. Of a peculiar Neon-Blue quality, most individuals would likely mistake them for a flamboyant fashion statement; though the fact remains, they were crafted by the Duergar Smith, Hepti, and imbued with a particular property which made them both durable, and useful for navigating dark places. ...Unforunately, the Kensai frequently forgets the fact that they are sitting on his forehead. "Anyways. Being King isn't what it's all cracked up to be, if you're doing your job right."

Kasyr said to Cerys, "As for the Ashen bit? You're not the first to think so."

Cerys takes the patch from her left eye and places it back in her pouch. That left eye darts to those goggles instantly, although their vibrant color was too faded in the dull and nearly nonexistent lighting for it to distinguish otherwise. She does walk toward the rubble with the smelly fluid coating almost everything. Her thin nose scrunches up and she takes out a rag from her pouch and proceeds to rifle through the rocks and guts without actually touching any wet parts. "Regardless of your position or title, Ashen, my thanks are in order for aiding in my errand. May your...tedious workload be reduced in the future." That last remark was meant as an attempt at a grateful farewell, though it came out somewhat stilted.

Kasyr is doing some rifling of his own though the task is a far less arduous, considering he's only searching his pockets for a cigarette. It's only once one's both been procured and settled at his lips that he shoots another glance towards Cerys, "Eh... Save the farewells for when you're not distractedly searching through stuff while in..a.." Gods be damned, this description simply -screamed- steep repair costs, "Monster..infested..ruins. Merde." A shake of his head, and he'd proceed to conjure up a few errant sparks to light his smoke, before casually adding, "Just hurry up."

Cerys raises a pale brow toward the vampire. "Why do you speak so strangely?" she asks offhand as she runs her hankercheif through the gore. "Ah..." She takes out an eye, luckily in tact. She takes out another odd container from her pouch and puts the eye in it before sealing it off. She stands letting the cloth drop into the gorgon mess, what's left of it. "Done, if you would like to be gentlemanly enough to escort me out."

Kasyr just gets a wry look, "I'm from Shesryn. Not alot of tourists from around there." That aside, at her remark of a gentlemanly escort, he simply proceeds to draw his hand away from his cigarette, and offer her a crooked arm and a sardonic grin, "On y va? Which es to say, Off we go. Et do be sure to tell the Lady Jolie I said hello."

Cerys ' brows both go up at the man's gesture, but she humors it, if only because she could barely see as it is. "I shall next I see her..." she replies as she puts her hand into the crook of his elbow. "I shall communicate your sentiments. And perhaps, if I should have another dangerous errand around the undead city, I might run into you again?"

Kasyr can't help but offer a boyish grin, those peculiar-cattish ears of his twitching in tandem, "If it's that troublesome, there's good odds... Though the paperwork from this particular incident may keep me busy for a bit." This, and the daily drove of contemptuous bull that the Kensai puts up with in the form of taxes/letters/kindling. "It was a plaisir, either way, Madamoiselle Cerys."

Cerys 's left eye seems obsessed with those ears and those goggles as they walk. Her right, seems firmly affixed to Kasyr's face. "Do you not have an assistant for these sorts of things? A scribe or someone literate enough to do menial tasks?" Her right eye then flicks ahead to the bloodied and empty hall ahead toward the. "Regardless, it was also a pleasure, surprisingly."

Kasyr casually steps over a piece of a still smoldering amalgam of fur and feathers, though he does pause to check around a corner before continuing on his way forward. By this point, the stairwell they had taken into this particular region was at least visible, "It's complicated, but finding someone who would be -willing- to do such a task, has no politic affiliations in Vailkrin...Et..er" And that didn't have trouble with his accent, "Just, other bits. It's not entirely easy. I delegate what I can... but I end up doing a fair bit." As he speaks, he makes his way up those stairs, though he takes his time to ensure Cerys keeps her footing.

Cerys has some trouble with her footing, considering she was still a bit woozy from the bump on her head. "It seems I owe you a debt of sorts. And I am rather fond of this city, I lived here quite a few years ago with my family back when it was whole." She pauses, lips pressing together as she mulls over what she was about to offer. "Perhaps, between my studies and classes, I might be able to be of assistance with some tutelage on how to go through certain forms. My handwriting, I've been told, is impeccable."

Kasyr waits until after they've emerged from the stairwell, to offer Cerys an incredulous look, "I don't know many people who would -willingly- offer assistance with that." That said, the Revenant simply shrugs, "I will take the offer into consideration, I suppose we can perhaps hash out details, at some other time. At the moment, I ought to go and file some things in regards to this..er. Debacle."

Cerys nods her head and her lips quirk in that smallest of grins once more as her left eye darts toward the nearing exit with almost eagerness. "Indeed, and I have to do the slightly more enjoyable task of delivering my lady's prize and your salutations." Once they reach the arena proper, she lets go of the vampire's arm with a small bow of her head. "May your menial tasks go quickly," she says, this time with more confidence behind the remark.

Later, at the Thorne Manse, Vailkrin

Tenebrae was seated on the recently-repaired porch of her manse, curled in a swing-chair and enjoying a sup of whisky after a long days' travel. So many things on her mind... there was never truly any rest for the Necromancer. The workmen had finished up, at last, and the building was as restored as it was going to be. The main gate was open, though it wasn't happy about this arrangement and fretted creakily on its hinges.

Muzo mutters in a most malcontent manner. Hissing and spitting like an out-of-sorts kitten, he slithers into earshot and eventually into view, bearing a tiny scowl to match his tone. "Unsuitable, unsanitary, unsatisfactory, unsafe!" Muzo snaps his jaw and flicks his tongue noisily. "Unbearable disruption. Studies ground to a halt, specimens wasted, wilted, rotted! Time lost. Materials lost. Cannot focus, cannot function." He blasts his nostrils in utter indignation. "The lab is ruined."

Cerys was walking through the streets of the ever-dark city from the disrepaired arena. She holds a cloth to her forehead whose edges were frozen over, nursing a rather vicious red bump on her forehead. Her movements are a little wobbly, but steady enough. The disorientation was making it harder for her to deal with that damn left eye of hers flitting this way and that while her right stayed fixed on the creaky gates ahead. She had a delivery to make, after all. She approaches the porch, stopping a short distance away from the initial steps to the swing as if waiting to be summoned first.

Tenebrae cast an apologetic glance toward the unhappy naga, and had opened her lips to explain that 'ruined' was a far less wonderful adjective for the state of the laboratory than one which implied 'vastly more interesting now'. Muzo, however, was already slithering away, the wringing of hands adding to the general dry sussuration of his passing. Thus left to her own devices once more, Tene sipped her drink and was about to have a word with the miscreant gates when they creaked out a warning that somebody was daring - daring! - to walk through them, entirely unimpeded by stout iron scrollwork. Moments later, Tenebrae was studying Cerys with pleasant sort of perusal. "You've not died, then?" She narrowed her lids. "Have you? And have you fetched me the items requested?"

Cerys bows her head and lowers the hankerchief to expose that red welt. It would still appear fresh. "Despite the preferences of certain parties, Thanatos Domina, I am still alive," she says before straightening her neck. Her left eye explores the expanse of the grounds with maddening twitches and flicks, making the young elf's headache all the worse, while her right stays steadily on the guildmistress. Instead of offering an affirmative answer, Cerys reaches into that never-full pouch and pulls out the supplies one by one as she recites off the list. "Six mandrakes, as young as I could find." Each was tenderly and delicately placed in her arm like a row of small children in a cradle, wrapped in red cloths to keep them asleep like the first she'd presented to the vampire. "Six thighbones from trolls, marrow mostly in tact on all but one of them. I was lucky enough to come upon a rather ravenous cannibal while he was sleeping." These are precariously clutched in the crook of her elbow. "Nightshade, harvested in full dark, under a hemlock. Finding a combination of those two plants took quite a bit of searching." Said clump of nightshade--a combination of flowers and a few berries--is clutched in her hand. "And finally, a vial of gorgon's blood, collected just this night. Courtesy of Ashen, who says 'hello'." Both of the elf's eyes shift into sync as the elf blinks, focusing on the lady in her swing with anticipation as to her reaction.

Tenebrae was silent throughout the presentation of each hard-won item, and was so again for quite some seconds after Cerys stopped speaking. "Hm..." she said, tapping her armour-plated fingers on the edge of the wicker swingchair. "Hm...." But even she could not be so cruel, and broke into a wide, pointed and very pleased grin. "Excellent work, dear. Can't have been easy, some of that," green eyes studied Cerys' head-knot. "And Kasyr, you say? Probably just as well you happened on him, gorgons can get very nasty indeed..." she said this, like it was news. "At any rate, here you are, hale and triumphant! Would you be a dear and bring it all down into the dung.. the uh.. labora..er.. basement?" She paused to speak a word or two to the whining gates, which happily snapped shut, tight as a clam. "Best I lead the way, perhaps," said Tene, and rose from her seat, whisky in hand, soon to take to the downward stairs inside.

Cerys 's own lips have to struggle not to break out into a full on smile of girlish excitement. Had she that little dog with the floppy ears still, well he might have tackled Tenebrae from his master's inner glee. The elf's outward reaction does stay tempered to a small grin before she takes a step for the porch step. "Yes, I believe he enjoyed it as well, though I may have made him more paper work." The girl's pale brows go up as the petite vampire's tongue stumbled over what exactly to call the lower level of her home, and her pointed ears perk under her hair as the gates rush to obey behind her. She nods her agreement to Tenebrae's decision to lead and trails after her with the ingredients held steadily in both arms, though her steps were less sure than her grip. "I take it your basement has many...uses, m'lady?' she asks idly, her tone a bit more stilted.

Tene rolled her eyes a bit at the news of Kasyr's increased workload, but was still smiling as they began the descent into torch-lit, winding depths. "Yes... several, presently.. You'll see. And, of course," she half-turned to the girl trailing behind, "You'll say nothing of what you saw, lest you lose the ability to see anything else ever again. Are we clear?" Onward, downward, the stairs led them a clammy trail to what finally opened into a massive subterannean chamber with several stout doors set into it, and filled alomost to capacity with vats, boiling crucibles and beakers, glass and copper tubing woven into a mad tangle, clouds of steam and several cages filled with animate or dead vampires, the former groaning faintly but forgoing further comment on thier abject condition. "Voila!" said the necromancer, proudly, spilling a little whisky as she made an encompassing gesture around the room. "Wonderful, no?" Then peered at Cerys. "You can put all that on .. the uh... over there," where was a square foot of free space, on some bench or other. "By the way, where's your little dog?"

Cerys would have raised her right hand in a mockery of giving an oath, were it not filled already. "May these eyes be gouged out, never to be replaced, and my tongue torn asunder should I breath a word," she says, not a hint of humor in her voice as she utters the promise. The fine hairs on the girl's neck prickle as the temperature steadily drops, but once they reach the chamber her eyes widen to the size of saucers. The tubes, the glass, the steam, all make her head lean forward ever so little, and her ears perk all the way out of her hair repeatedly with evident interest. Both of her eyes are, almost comically, flitting every which way, trying to absorb each cage and every table and bench at once. She has to sqeeze her eyes shut for a moment to keep her entire skull from pounding. When her eyes are properly calm, that girlish smile shines through for a moment before pink colors the elf's pale cheeks. "Absolutely," she says in breathy agreement. That blush deepens when it occurs to her she has a task to attend to. She shuffles over toward the small span of surface to meticulously set each ingredient in careful rows, ordered by type and some unspoken system in the girl's mind. "An ursine-owl chimera of some sort devoured it on the way to the gorgon," she replies. "There was a simpler circle in one of my courses I thought of using to make another. Artemesius' Circle of Minor Revivification, I believe."

Tenebrae seemed in a most ebullient frame of mind as she flitted about the lab, tweaking this valve and tapping that beaker, smiling all the while as Cerys swore her gruesome - and oddly accurate - oath. And really wasn't paying all that much attention until: "Artemesius?" She peered narrowly at Cerys. "How .. very dull. No, I think we can do better than that for you, dear. But not today. Prepare a fresh dog carcass, and meet me here on the morrow. I will show you something wonderful - a little reward, for all your hard labour."

Cerys pauses in her systematic arrangement, near the end of it as it is, and she looks over her shoulder to the guildmistress with unabashed eagerness shining on her face, smile and all. She quickly schools her expression, but bows her head more deeply than usual, probably in gratitude. "Gladly, Thanatos Domina," she replies, that smile, though it wasn't on her face, still showing in her voice. When she lifts her head, both her eyes are glancing about madly again, in particular at the variety of knobs and beakers. "I am wondering, if I may m'lady, what sorts of experiments you do with some of this equipment. I have never set eyes on such a...laboratory before. What I recalled of my father is that he relied strictly on tomes and field research for his projects."

Tenebrae raised a chitin-plated forefinger. "Ah! But you pre-empt my surprise, Novus. No spoilers for you, just pop out and find a nice little carcass to bring along, fresher the better." She loomed upon on of the vampire cages, her teeth long and white as she grinned at the clearly terrified but still-silent occupant. "I may show you something a tad more advanced, still, if we have the time."

Tenebrae said, "Now scoot. "

Cerys 's left eye flicks toward the occupant of the cage, and the young woman finds a question of asking to stay and watch dancing at the tip of her tongue. She bites it so as not to spoil the upcoming surprise another way. "'Til the morrow, m'lady. A good night to you, Thanatos Domina." Tenebrae is offered a curt nod, then a bow--that was doing wonders to worsen the elf's headache--before Cerys does as instructed and walks toward the entrance to the cavern at her most brisk pace. Soon enough she is up the stairs, out to the porch, keeping her left eye strictly schooled from wandering, and leaving through those whining gates once more, should they open for her.