RP:Poison, Illusion and Silver

LOCATION: The Fold Council Chambers

A step through vaulted doorway brings you into the strategic heart of The Fold. Decisions on war and peace, trial and reward have clearly taken place here. The room is impressive. A large, wood carved custom table sits in its center. Oval in shape, it is encircled by several high backed chairs; enough chairs in fact, for a gathering of the entire clan. Five chairs, slightly larger and more ornate than the others can be seen interspersed at strategic points in the oval. It appears that these are designated for the leaders of the clan. Gas lights flicker in stands on the walls, casting shadows on the noble visages of legendary clan members, past and present, living and dead, preserved forever in portraits scattered around the room. Large bookshelves, lined with tomes on magic and military strategy stand against the walls. So too do glass display cases, hosting relics and custom weaponry too powerful to be housed out in the open. Here, they are secured by locks of magical means. There is little else in the room. It is obviously meant for business.

Arien entered the grand elegance of the Council Chambers with graceful stride, swinging her cloak off of slender shoulders and tossing it rather irreverently over the back of the chair that sat at the head of the table of the round. As she did on most occasions upon entering the somber chambers, emerald gaze swept the portraits that hung illuminated upon the walls, pausing to linger in particular upon the two at the farthest end. Oosutin and Nasurate stared back at her, imperious glint in the eyes of them both. Brothers in arms, and co-founders of what the Order had become. There was not a day that passed when she did not miss them-they had each paid the ultimate price for the cause..for the vision she struggled to maintain and stamp upon the hearts of every soldier who took the oath. Another such would be coming this day, if Aranhil replied to her missive. She sank into the seat, suddenly morose, before shaking off the sentiments to refocus on the day’s work ahead.

Aranhil would enter the council chambers, in his mind he wondered if his cart would be safe in their compound. Pushing his worries aside, he would look around, taking in many of the details with his elven eyes, one of the few things about him that appears to be of elven ancestry. He took note of the table, wondered if perhaps it meant more than what it may appear and noticed as well the many portraits about the room's walls. The last thing he would notice was the person that was already here, he assumed this would be Arien and so made his way further into the room before making a light bow and introducing himself, "I am Aranhil, Herbalist of Sage Forest."

Rhocielle stood stolid at his station, behind the High Elf's chair, cape drawn around his frame to obscure most of his black armor and fur. There was little point in the gesture, other than some form of lessening his intimidating presence. It was more than obvious that he not a human, particularly with that distinct wolf's head atop his shoulders. As the elf wandered around the chamber, he did not speak to her or console her as was the norm. She needed her time to her own thoughts and mourning, despite his reservations of leaving her alone even for the slightest amount or the smallest of measures. Keeping his gaze upon the doors, only his ears expressed his sympathy and wish to rescue her from her silent brooding. There was much work to be done this day, and more to be done in days after. At the arrival of her first appointment, the wolfen warder gave only the slightest dips of his muzzle in a respectful greeting.

Arien was aware of the presence and restraint of her warder over her shoulder, and could not resist a quiet smile. He might not know it, but words were not needed for assurance when his ever vigilant presence was about. The arrival of the apparent elf had her raising fiery head to train her gaze his direction, a polite rising to her feet demonstrating the respect with which every life was valued by the elf, regardless of station in life. A slender hand reached out, waving him closer and into a seat, her voice a quiet murmur. “ Welcome then, Aranhil, I thank you for your expressed interest in The Order, and for your presence with us today… Now, share with us, if you will, your heart and concerns regarding the place you have said you wish to seek amongst our family.” Emerald gaze was keenly assessing, very rarely did the paladin expand her ranks during a time of war..twas such a time that enemies of the Order sought most directly to infiltrate and exploit the weaknesses of the clan. She knew her warder would likewise pay close attention to the male’s response.

Aranhil would nod and bow lightly again in thanks for the seat. A moment later he was seated and began to speak. "As I have told you, I believe I am being followed, possibly even hunted, but not only for the rare and valuable herbs of my shop. I seek protection not only for me, but for this." He would then pull from his pocket a small vial that was merely a quarter full and have a cork in its top. "This is a very deadly potion that I am working on, a drop of water and it could vaporize into the air, calling death upon all around it only moments later. It is incomplete, and missing a key ingredient that I refuse to gather until I have the protection needed." He would pocket the vial not wanting to show it off more than he may have to. "Also however, I seek a clan, one that shares my views upon the world. That seems to be rare indeed, however, I believe The Fold may be the "family" I seek." He would remain seated now, somehow before he had missed the lycan behind Arien, perhaps because of the presence she beheld he had missed him for only those brief few moments. But now he knew he was there, obviously a precaution to protect the Leader of The Fold.

Rhocielle /: Grey slated eyes roamed along the new guest's form. Aranhil, the High Elf had stated. The name was vaguely familiar as an up and coming merchant that dealt at the border between Kelay and the Milous Plains. A brow raised as an peculiar article was displayed, and his lids slitted slowly in scrutiny of its purpose, or soon to be purpose. Already he and the High Elf would something dire to discuss following the departure of Aranhil. Such a poison being developed by someone who claimed to interested in joining their ranks, he could not help but be even the least bit suspicious of true motives. It was a deadly weapon that could easily turn the tide in a war, for light or dark intentions. If nothing else, recruiting this male would prevent its immediate use. Slowly his obscured tail wagged against the fabric of his cape, a continuing gesture to reflect his growing pensive thoughts.

Helich :: Illusions. They would be the death of him one day, to one extent, or another. Even after developing events with the demigod Solaris, the male still sought out the refuge of war amongst his supposed calling for truce. Several minutes prior he had poked his head around a corner, only to witness two guards around a door. He heard the familiar, if muffled, voice of Arien within. Clinging against the edge of the wall - Arien may sense, if she were powerful enough, the brief bubble of mana within the next room - the transformation was simple. No scaly flesh, saurian eyes disguised past that which his morphic abilities could produce. He was now one hundred percent human, in appearance, and one hundred percent Fold in the guise of a guard; higher ranking than those watching the door. He traipsed around the corner with a wide, flowing gait; a commanding presence. "I have word." His voice was gravel under a wagon's wheels. Harsh. Disciplined. "For High Lady Arien, from Helich." Whatever the saurian creature was about, he certainly had not yet realized that a persons accent carried a lot toward identity in the world he had awoken to. "Let me pass." His scent was disguised, his eyes seemed - tired - and a timid color of blue.

Arien leaned back in her seat, her face revealing little of her thoughts as she listened to the tale of the male unfold. Only a slight dilation in the dark pupils of emerald irises would reflect her immediate consternation upon hearing of the proposed, for all intents and purposes..weapon, that the merchant intended to make. A slight exhalation preceded the quiet murmur that would slip from her lips as she leaned forward to temple her fingertips beneath her chin. Her gaze would lock upon that of the merchant. “ Any member of our family, would of course be covered by our protection..we are not without warriors of repute who fly the banner.” She paused, pinning him with a probing stare. “ I do find myself wondering however, why one who makes claim to the path of light, would even wish to contemplate creating a weapon of mass destruction. It could fall into the wrong hands..could be of harm to our own..or the innocent. It would be best that such a weapon never came into existence..” She leaned back again, one leg crossing over the other. “ In fact..it may well become a requirement of your affiliation with us, if you seek to join The Order, that you commit to never finishing it. As such, it will become our duty to protect you..and the knowledge of the final ingredient from any in the world whom might seek to obtain such knowledge from you.” Arien was worried…very worried. She wondered if the elf realized just how deep a threat his very existence now presented to the world in which they lived. It was the swelling of her own mana, in reaction to the presence of a deep magic, that caused the elf to shift her gaze over the shoulder of the male and around the room. A frown knit her brow. There was no activity in the room that she could discern..restless, her thoughts returned to the serious matter at hand, the muffled conversation beyond the thick doors barely drawing her attention for the moment.

Aranhil smiled at the woman’s reply, "There is a reason for the existence of such a potential threat to the world. It's simple, and one I believe is worthy of note. It is easier of course to show you. Trust me, nothing will happen to you in this." He pulled the vial from his pocket once more and another one as well. In the other appeared to be a white powder of sorts; a mix of different ingredients gathered by the Herbalist. Popping the corks from the two vials he would allow several drops into the white powder before corking both once more. He would pocket the original vial and hold the other up to his eye level as he watched his mixture meld together into a green liquid that shined of a neon light. "For ten seconds after its mixed, it glows this light, and is drinkable if mixed with the powder I have added. Then should one drink it," He would pop the cork and drink of the vial. Now he would wait a time, a few seconds and as he did so he would pull a single dagger from his boot and slash a long cut into his right arm, deep and bleeding horribly. He let out a cry of pain like no other could imagine if they hadn't heard it themselves. "Watch," he would utter trying to keep them seated. The wound would suddenly begin to heal itself, his body gaining the same ability that was just a level weaker than that of the lycans regenerating. "Pain is still felt, but with this, for the next thirty seconds after it has been drunk you cannot die aside from having ones head severed or blown to bits. And, should one be injured and drink this, the wounds would heal the same, though the pain of the healing would be severe at that point. But durable." He rose his arm to show them where the cut had once been, what was there now was only dried blood. He was healed.

Naith :: Illusions. They would most certainly be the death of him, to one extent or another. Trekia moved oddly quietly throughout the compound halls, head bowed and fingers drumming contemplatively against the wooden pole of the axe in his arms; a pole-arm decorated in a series of marvelously intricate runes. He mused on obtaining the weapon, a reward for his latest endeavors in staving off the political unrest of his people. He mused on how he would have loved to keep it at his side during the most unlikely meeting he had sat through this morning, if only to wipe that smug look off the Orc bouncer's ugly face. This train of thought carried him to the dragon himself, the strange Black with such a way with words... Still, even, his most entrancing of voices invaded the Silver's mind (protected, I might add, by a number of navy dragon scale plates from a Blue's hide, known for defending well against psychological attack.) "That was then, my good man," he'd said. "We do not desire control."….. "For High Lady Arien, from Helich…." Naith's attentions snapped upwards and forwards. Sensitive Silver eardrums resonated with the remnants of that familiar voice. It was all Trekia could do not to snarl aloud. Crouching low, and waving away one of the guards who had just caught sight of him, the dragon stalked forward. The axe, the Mage's Bane, was clamped tightly between his large hands, until Naith and the Black were but a few feet from each other. The warrior rose, and the stave end of the pole-arm tapped lightly between Helich's shoulder blades, just uncomfortable enough to attract his attention. When he turned, Trekia would strike with a blast of paralysis gas, a thin jet aimed directly at the illusionist's face. If he had a message he could deliver as himself, without the strength to maintain a guise. If too weary to walk, he would be pushed along; an unhelpful shove of the stave into the small of his back, "If ye'd care to open the door fer us, 'else 'e won't look too pretty if ah've gotta go through it..." This aimed at the guards, who hurry to do as the Dragon requests. As was common, Trekia pushed events way above the heads of those of the lower ranks, who usually ended up doing as he said to prevent the anger of the General.

Rhocielle narrowed his eyes even further. Not for the presence of the half concocted poison or its inventor, but for the voice bellowing beyond the doors of the chambers. A low grumble called out subtly in his throat, while the fur at the scalp and nape of his neck bristled faintly. Not enough to bring worry the guest, but he was close enough to call attention to the elven woman. Whatever traits allowed the four legged canines to become alert to presences of the supernatural, their two legged wolf brother surely carried the same gene. The elf's guard dog, so to speak, was restless over something. The beggar had somehow made its way into the compound, but it could not possibly be the same male. The voice was surely aged well over three decades. To add to his rising concern, the beggar was now in league with the black dragon, or perhaps only serving as courier. Or, the beggar's father? Son, injured mother, and now collaborating father. Seemed that particular family attracted danger and the wrong sorts. Before his grumble to develop into a warning snarl, nostrils flared immensely to the mixture of an agonized wail and stench of freely flowing blood. In his myriad of focuses, he quickly stepped around Arien's chair to stride towards the injured merchant with one paw already brandishing a roaring blue flame of his own Healing light. Before he could even reach the male, the odd liquid beat him to the same result. Already agitated slightly from the disconcerting voice beyond the doors, he firmly repeated to Aranhil a concern of Arien's, "...impressive, but why not leave it at that? Why the poison?" Fur coated ears twitched anew to the sounds of scuffling outside. "Arien," he stated simply without looking back to the High Elf, now situating himself at the head of the table to await whatever would come through. Keeping the paw awash in ceruelean fiery tendrils for psychological effect, the other wolfen appendage rested at his blade's hilt.

Helich heard foosteps behind him. This was true. But the male had chalked it up to a guard. Until the poke. A fateful poke, one could say. He turned - composure be damned...he was surprised. After that a few moments passed where only blackness occured for the man. Numbness. The illusions that had been adorning him vanished in an instant - replaced by the same Drow that was typical partook of. The morphic guise was ripe with the scaled flesh of his kind, and the vertical slits of pupils - it was Helich. There would be no arguement about that. The situation was spiraling out of control, thought was cloudy. He regained sight leaning intently against Trekia's form - if only to stand. Too weak to much more than drool, in a way.

The chambers were suddenly awhirl with sound and movement..layers of it that required all of the abilities of the general to keep up, but she was more than capable of doing so. Emerald gaze had followed the actions of the elf, still heavily skeptical, flickering with professional appreciation the wolf’s way when he attempted his intervention and voiced precisely what would have been her over riding concern. The weaponization of the healing agent was unnecessary, and it would be an irrevocable requirement that the proposed ‘final’ ingredient be laid to rest, if Aranhil sought a place amongst them. She directed her attention to the merchant, about to say just that, when the doors of the chambers were swept apart by the guards posted there, without announcement, to reveal of all individuals, the Silver and in his company a rather worse for wear looking Helich. A flame brow arched, emerald gaze burning with curiosity. “ I can always trust you to make an entrance Naith..” Her gaze came to rest upon the black dragon before seeking the cerulean blue again. “ And you come bearing gifts..” Her tone held the teasing that had once marked their friendship..echoes of days spent on the road as allies. She found the black again. “ Helich.. it would seem you have met Trekia.. might I ask why you appear in such a state?”

Aranhil would stand and move to the side of his room from his chair, he had not noticed the rallying until just before the entrance into the room. The Half Elf would glance at them all, not knowing exactly what was going on.

Naith grunts, gesturing for the guards to come and lift the dragon's weight from the end of his pole-arm. "Ye won't get much out of him," the Silver voices, putting on a brave face. Even here, it was difficult to maintain a cool head in the woman's presence, the weight of desire and regret sitting tightly across shoulders that now twitch feverishly, heralding where scaled wings would have spread and parted if they remained, "'E's trippin'. Paralysis gas." There is something of a boast to his tone, and Arien knew well the natural talents of his birth, "Found 'im outside. Didn't know 'e were an Illusionist, and a damn good 'un at that. Didn't do nothin' about 'is voice though," He casts a glance over the Dragon's form, lifting a hand to whip the bandanna from his head, " Said 'e 'ad a message. Why 'e felt the need ta disguise 'imself as one o' ye men to deliver it, ah'm not sure."

Rhocielle dimmed the light of his left paw until the unnatural fires tracing his fur died out. With a little more learned, he would have to have another word with Arien about Helich's other... visits, to the villa. The circumstancial evidence was too much to pass up on, even if only to serve as further warning for the High Elf. Looking from one dazed dragon removed from the chambers to another alert one that remained, he merely backpedaled to his previous position behind the Round's chair. In his silent state, the mind raced with a flurry of questions and concerns, from merchant to dragon, poison to a simple message, if it was truly that simple.

Arien followed the report of the Wyrm with a nod, and an ever increasing frown of concern. She didn’t trust the black dragon..not really, and the fact that he was apparently using his abilities to infiltrate her secure zones without her consent was disturbing to say the least. Her gaze traveled to the one in question..he really did look rather unwell, Trek’s gas attack was only just short of lethal in the right dose. She eyed the silver a mild, if slightly grateful reprimand. “ Then, you did well in rendering him incapacitated Silver. We shall talk..the black and I when he is sufficiently restored. For now..” Her wrist flicked in the direction of the door guards, giving the order. “ Take him to the cell block and ensure he is properly secured..one of the anti magic cells.” The Silver was relieved of his burden, and the elf pondered his presence a moment before redirecting her attention to the one whose focus had been her purpose before hell had broken loose; Aranhil. “ We are willing to welcome you to our number, Aranhil, provided that you do all within your power to ensure that the threat of weaponization of the potion is limited, if not eradicated.” Her words brokered no resistance, and it was only after the promise was obtained that the rare final ingredient would be obtained and destroyed..that the elf extended her arm to clasp his own in formal welcome. “ It appears we have an agreement brother..we shall do what we can to protect you until that task is accomplished. None must ever know the ingredient..or of its potential effect on the healing potion..none outside those presently gathered who saw it in action. If that is all..you are excused, any of your kinsmen will be pleased to give you a guided tour of the facilities.” Aranhil would exit with a bow, leaving the elf alone with her warder and one time fiancé. A moment of heavy silence would ensue before Arien would speak quietly, directing her words to the ever vigilant wolf at her back. “ Rho..I would like a few moments alone..if you do not mind. I need to speak with the Silver on matters unrelated to the clan.” But, ironically, very much related to them all.

Naith said to Arien, "Ye're welcome. Ah'm quite efficient, if ah may be so bold as ta say it mesel'."

Rhocielle directed his gaze from the exit of Aranhil and down towards Arien. Though internally reluctant, he nodded without hesitation and took his own leave of the council chambers. Though the matter, he mused, concerned him to a very deep degree, it was not his place to stay at the present time. Polite dip of his muzzle to the wyrm in passing, the wolfen guardian briefly trailed after the guards that carried the unconscious black dragon.

Hours later, in the Prisoners cell blocks...

Helich had been awake for several hours. This was true. A feigned sleep. Quiet patience. They weren't working. The illusions. Empathy. Telepathy. Poor Porc. It would take a while to track the male down again after such a sudden severence. Chances are he had returned to the place the saurian had found him. Idle thoughts. A tired mind. Sitting up on the edge of the cot, he places a cold hand against his forehead

Rhocielle soon enough rejoined the side of the High Elf, back into his usual garb of black armor and cloth. The dow of his muzzle still looked slightly matted from his previous activities, and under his cape, his male scent boiled subtly over his frame. When they had reached the holding cell of the black dragon, he stood against the wall beside the locked door while Arien would address Helich. He snorted softly, wondering about the state of the previously paralyzed prisoner.

Arien knocked on the bars of the cell with the gilded shaft of her mana flail, her intent to redirect the attention of the befuddled male her way. Aware of Rho on her flank, she focused attention upon the prisoner. “ You will forgive our lack of hospitality Helich, Trekia is prone to act first and think later..at times my salvation, at others my bane. Which is it this time I wonder. Have you a reason for breeching my security in such a manner? Think well on your answer, for ally or not, you will be held to account if you were attempting to do me false..” Her expression and tone were grim as icy gaze rested upon the dragon in his dark elf form.

Helich said to you, "Ebon and Crimson. He is a Drow, by the name of Kaydar. An acquaintance of mine. I would not consider him -- stable. He is dangerous. You need to be wary." His gaze had long since shifted to her, "I am not so foolish to associate myself with you Arien. Of course I would come disguised. He has information. About this compound - I assume it is this compound." He snickered quietly, it held no warmth. "The enchantments upon it." One lie, had lead to this lie, which would lead to his freedom. Truth, change had occured within his aura - if Arien could sense it through the magical containment that held his illusions at bay. There, mixed with darkness - was a singular sun of hope, small – light years away. But there. "I have been trying to contact you for a week or so doll." Doll? "To warn you.""

Rhocielle crossed his arms lightly over his chest while his wolfen head leaned against the wall. It was not necessary, his presence, if only for her protection; but an extra set of ears to listen to the dragon's words might prove useful if Helich deemed to say more than what was spoken aloud. That was usually the case, when dealing with the illusionist. Again came the mention of Ebon and Crimson, the same name dropped by Rhoswen. He frowned slightly and reached out to touch Arien's arm; a silent gesture, and invisible to dragon's sight, to ask the High Elf to be alert to what was said and what wasn't. The paw lingered at the forearm for only a moment longer, then returned to his side. If the dragon had been attempting to make contact with Arien, why was a courier not used, even animals or illusions to deliver the message cryptically. It came as a shock to his sense when the dragon referred to the female as doll. A faint creak of bone would only be heard by the most acute ears. His maws clenched and his grey eyes narrowed dangerously for the most brief of seconds. Composure, he reminded himself. This was an illusionist and liable to say or do anything to unbalance the mind.

Arien’s eyes narrowed. “ To warn me..” Her skepticism was obvious, and present, even before the subtle pressure of the wolf’s leathern paw was felt. They were, as had become a habit of late it seemed, remarkably attuned to each other. The socially awkward intimacy extended by the black dragon was either missed or ignored, in favor of attention to the details provided. “ This is not the first time we have heard the name..it is of public record on the board, and you could have seen it and made up this fetching tale..” She frowned.. “ But only my kinsmen, and a few others know of the enchantments laid down within the forests..it is disturbing that such detail has come to your knowledge. It will mean making adjustments to our defenses preemptively.” She eyed the dragon. Would he be so arrogant to show his cards..to give up the advantage of surprise just to maintain her trust in such a moment? For he had surely hurt himself with such a confession if his intent was ill. She tried to read him..but was hindered by the effectiveness of the very cell in which he was held. A decision would have to be made. His argument for his earlier disguised appearance, though flawed-there were other ways of communicating such news- was still logical..and they -would- need his co-operation to take the island city. With a quick glance Rho’s way- she was certain he would have much to say if he disagreed with her decision, in private of course- she uttered the soft elven words of the spell that would release the catch upon the door of the cell. The words that followed were directed to the dragon himself. “ Come forth.. I do not trust you as far as I can throw you Helich…but it seems there is not enough evidence of hostile intent to warrant keeping you here.”

Helich exits the cell quietly and rolls his shoulder in a soft shrug. "You are quite fetching Arien, you know?" Were the only words he spoke before walking away toward the exit - if they escorted him out, so be it, but he did not wait for them. Though he did cast a look over his shoulder at the Lycan. "We should talk Lycan. I am going to the restaurant in Kelay to catch a meal, should you wish it - I will be there. Unarmed." As if he needed weapons.

Rhocielle went farther to settle his thoughts further. By the time the dragon had emerged, his canine face was a stolid as was the norm. Much was to be said to the elf, perhaps more harshly that the warder usually scolded her. There was nothing to be done about it presently, and it would not have affected the liberation of the dragon. Again the dragon invoked his ire by addressing the High Elf in such a manner. Not allowing his facial features to express his loathing, he instead clenched a paw that was kept at his back. When he himself was addressed, his true wishes were almost barked out. Flaring his nostrils in frustrations he said with extreme resignation, "If I wish it..." He was more than aware of his current state of mind, and careful deliberation was needed before jumping into potentially dangerous situations.

Arien’s gaze rested thoughtfully on her warder for a moment. Rho was not happy.. Retracing her steps, she could see the potential error that she had made in unfolding action..one that could prove critical. She winced. She’d have to suck it up when he let her have it later, as he was sure to do. And rightfully so. She leaned against the cell, disinclined to get any closer to the dragon than she needed to. Canting her head, she murmured in icy undertones. “ Flattery will get you nowhere Helich..I know what you are..make no mistake. I’ll be in touch when the time comes.” For Rynvale, of course. Her gaze travelled between the two males. It was to be hoped that whenever they did meet, if it was not tonight..that her warder would keep his wits about him. Helich was not one to be taken lightly. “ I will leave you gentlemen to your evenings..I bid you goodnight” And with that, the elf made the adjustments to her feet, making her own way to the exit, nodding to her warder on her way out.

Helich had paused to stretch his back - the cot was uncomfortable - and idly allowed Arien to pass. He noticeably inhaled her scent, and soon turned toward Rhocielle. He merely watched the man, the Lycan, with an intense gaze.

Rhocielle watched both dragon and elf idly, both in front of him as he stayed beside the opening of the cell. Granite eyes were not upon Helich, instead mostly focused on Arien until she would disappear down the hall. Afterward, he remained alone with the illusionist and waved a paw outward to motion to the other male to carry on in his departure. Their business within the compound and its prison had concluded.