RP:Success, But At What Cost?
This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.
Summary: Celaeno performs the ritual she was given to suppress her sister, but it leaves her in worse condition than usual. Pilar stumbles upon her and helps, possibly providing an answer as to why.
Northern Sage Forest
Ample space is provided between trunks, as the trees have not been rooted too densely together. Rich soil is here for the lofty timber it grows. Leaves spread out upon their boughs, fanned outwards in all directions, out to greet the touch of nature in outstretched veins. The roots go deep, burrowing down beneath the earth. Some protrude near the base of the trunk, looping awkwardly so as to form a small yet seemingly comfortable crevice - at least for any animal needing warm, inviting shelter.
Celaeno wanted privacy for this particular deed, so she went as deep into the forest as she dare, hoping the prying eyes of native elves and travelers alike wouldn’t catch her performing this particular ritual. While she might have safely chosen a graveyard or something more fitting for something involving spirits and dead ones. For this particular spirit, though, something outside where things ran wild seemed far more fitting. She carried a bundle in her arms, full of her supplies: a Minor Book of the Dead for reference, chalk for writing the appropriate sigils, a black cloth to scrawl them on, and most importantly of all thick seashell she’d found along the beach in Cenril. As she walked through the trees, orange and red beams of twilight breaking through the canopy hitting her as she passed under them, a serene sort of silence spread over the area as day time animals escaped to their burrows for the evening, and nocturnal creatures woke for a new night. It brought a quaint peace to the young half-elf’s usually bubbling chest. A sign, she thought, even as her stomach roiled with uncertain anticipation.
The half-elf laid out the black cloth upon the ground first, on the flattest area she could manage between the roots sticking up from the ground around it. It occurred to her, belatedly, that in all her preparation, she might have drawn the sigils upon the cloth first, before leaving the Mage Tower dormitories. However, in her desire for secrecy, she had left it with only a white circle pre-drawn to guide her marks. She had practiced this ritual a few times when she was alone, going over the directions written in her notebook, making a mock up of how she would set it up, what words to say. As she pulled out said notebook and opened it to the purple inked steps, copied down the sigils she had memorized by then inside the white line with the chalk, her heart quickened in her chest. She was finally going to do it, she was going to talk to her twin after years of nothing. She hesitated over the final sigil in the row. Would Carina be mad? Would she disapprove? The aspiring necromancer shook her head and finished the character. She would talk to her sister and calm her down, reassure her that the true dangers lay elsewhere, not in Cela exploring a little magic typically considered dark.
With the sigils of the circle complete, all that was left was to take out the shell and place it in the middle of the square of cloth. The smooth pink ridges were only chipped on one edge, a perfectly imperfect little totem for her sibling who had never actually boarded a ship before, despite wishing every day of her young life that she could. The half elf took a deep breath as she took her stylus from the pocket of her pack which she had set aside, and started to engrave the last of the marks onto the surface of that shell. Black grooves followed the tip of that utensil as Celaeno copied the couple of characters from her notebook. “It’s just like enchanting,” she reassured herself as her gauntlets started to tremble with her nerves. The lines came out clean, unblemished by her hesitation as she set the shell in the middle of the white lines just in front of her knees. Preperation was done...she just had to direct her energy into the sigils, and let it follow their direction. She gulps, takes another deep breath and brings her hands to hover over her small ceremony. The first necromantic spell she would try on her own, of her own will. If she could do this one and conquer her fear, she could do others. Cela steeled her will and began to chant.
She stretched out her energy like with enchanting, though the way her circle drew it in felt markedly different, similar to the marks carved under her shirt, but without the burning sensation they had when they pulsed. She chanted the same phrase over and over in the silence of the forest, “Opprimendam animam, esse ligare.” The sigils on the cloth pulled at her limbs while those on the shell tugged on her chest, glowing bright with a dark aura. She hissed the words out between gritted teeth as flashes of experiences past flooded her mind. Flashes of a shadowy presence, a black-clothed figure bringing down a hot knife over her hands, and the smell of hot coals burning her nose. Still, she keeps up the chant until she felt an end come to that drain of energy. The sigils on the seashell in the center still glowed even though those on the circle had dimmed. With the spell complete, though, the half elf panted, falling to her hands, her arms trembling with the effort to keep her upright. Blood trickled from her nose and dripped onto the seashell, but the girl had a wide smile on her face.
Pilar didn't come this way much anymore. Larket was dead to her, and Kelay didn't really have anything that interested her. But, she needed to visit the Healer's Guild to give a report on Chartsend. Flying directly into The Hard City seemed like a bad idea, so she landed her mount in Kelay and walked through the woods. It was during this walk when she felt the tingle of magic in the air, and heard the chanting... and smelled the blood. She came upon the bizarre scene just a moment after Celaeno finished her spell. “M-Miss Celaeno...?” she called nervously. She took tentative steps toward the half-elf.
You 's moment of triumph was short lived, that smile vanishing as she started to cough. Some blood splattered on the black cloth she had drawn her chalked sigils on. the ritual had been draining apparently, enough that it took her a moment to register there was someone else in the area until her slightly pointed ears perk up at the sound of her name. She clears her throat, snatching up that shell before gathering the black cloth and attempting to sit up on her own. "M-Miss Pilar. A wonder seeing you...so far from home," she replied, her voice gruffer than usual as if her throat were strained.
Pilar hurried across the grass and knelt by Celaeno's side, inspecting her face. “You're pale...” And had blood dripping from her lips. “Hold on.” Pilar placed a hand on Celaeno's shoulder and channeled healing energies into her. It was a simple but demanding spell, one Pilar was becoming more adept at as she practiced and practiced. It would stop any internal bleeding but wouldn't, however, restore Celaeno's energy.
You didn't seem all that worried, as her rituals tended to cause nosebleeds here and there when she used too much energy or faced something stronger than her. Such was common in developing mages. Her breathing came somewhat easier as she felt Pilar's magic course through her, her throat less raw as she wiped the blood on her lip away on her sleeve. She still clenched that seashell in her hand, not hard enough to shatter it but firm enough to make it stay put. "Thank you..." she managed, catching her breath. "I...I was practicing. My second attempt at necromancy. My first by myself. It's...more taxing than my usual enchantments, I confess." She stayed planted on her hands and knees, the young woman's vision still swimming some as the world swayed. "What...brings you to these parts?"
Pilar put an arm around Celaeno's shoulders to steady her. “I was actually heading to the House of Ara. Healer's Guild headquarters, It's just outside Larket. Do you want me to take you there? Or are you staying somewhere nearby? You still don't look too good, and I'd hate to leave you in the middle of the woods.”
You gathered her things, shoving them into her pack laying nearby, including that seashell. She huffed as she attempted to stand on her own. Pilar would find herself leaned upon, though, as the half-elf's legs wobbled, with Celaeno offering an apologetic frown. "Sorry...Perhaps that would be a good idea. Though... I would rather not venture much further toward Larket. I'm sure you can understand why."
Pilar would carry Celaeno if she had to, but wouldn't without permission. No need to make her feel like an infant. “Yeah... Don't get me started on Larket.” She led Celaeno back towards Kelay. If Celaeno had a place to stay, she'd bring her there. Otherwise, she'd get her a room at the tavern. It was slow going, and the first part of the trip back was quiet. When they reached the turn in the road to go south, Pilar asked, “So... what kind of spell was that? I'm not too familiar with the dark arts.”
Celaeno manages a small, mischevious grin as she glances up at the fellow gypsy next, "Indeed. I may be a bit wanted for helping desecrate a grave there, but both the city and the person it belonged to deserved it, so I have no regrets." Her legs started to strengthen up some, but the light headed wooziness refused to go away just yet. She did attempt walking a ways alongside the illusionist on her own, not wandering too far just in case. "I'm...staying at the Mage Tower Dormitories. A bit out of the way for you. I hate to impose," she added, belatedly. Odds were if left to her own devices, she would become lost on the road and perhaps land smack dab in the middle of the anti-magical city they mutually disliked. "A friend altered something basic for me to suppress a spirit that managed to latch on before I came to Lithrydel. A present from my old mentor. I'm working on straightening the situation out, though."
“I see. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to ask.” As they reached the beginning of the path into the mountains, a large flying serpent appeared from the sky. She had white plumage and blue scales, and landed in the dirt before them gracefully. Pilar smiled and patted her nose. “Miss Celaeno, this is Emielle. She can fly us to Xalious, no problem.” If Celaeno was amenable, she would help her to mount the couatl, then would climb on behind her, holding her steady. If Celaeno was reluctant to fly, Pilar would dismiss Emielle again and simply help her walk to the village.
“Any tips on how to take away the bleeding?” She sighed, wiping her nose on her sleeve as she felt a few crusted spots she’d missed near her nostrils. The coppery tang still lingered on her tongue, not altogether pleasant for one who didn’t live from drinking the stuff. “I would chalk it up to lack of practice, but I still have somewhat severe reactions to enchanting anything substantial and I know that art well enough after years of—” The sentence caught in her throat as the winged beast floated down in front of them. Pilar might recognize the very same look of admiring glee lighting the half-elf’s eyes as she had when first laying eyes on the vampire’s wife. This one, however, was far less restrained, and it took everything to suppress the squeal bubbling up in her throat. It came out more as a strained squeak. “She’s beautiful! What is she? I had the impression dragons did not have feathers.” With all the sudden excitement, the woozy wobbling came back full force, making the girl hold both her arms out as she caught her balance. At least her sense of coordination was starting to come back, despite her exhaustion. Suffice to say, she eagerly climbed onto the serpent as carefully as she could, although she held on tighter to Pilar than she typically would allow herself.
"She is a couatl. And for the record, some dragons do. I met one once." Pilar gave the command, and Emielle took flight. As they soared towards Xalious Village, Pilar said, "Practice will help to reduce the strain, but I'd recommend taking potions beforehand if you know you'll be doing a difficult spell. But if you're still having this reaction after years... You might have some kind of chronic condition."
“So this is what envy feels like?” She attempts a snicker, though grips Emielle’s back tighter with her legs and her arms on a bend through the air. Of all the sensations she ever thought she would feel, riding atop a winged snake was not one of them. Suffice to say, the feeling was fascinating, the chilly wind pressing against her and all. Her amusement at the novelty was diminished by Pilar’s analysis, though. “I...like a sickness? I’ve never thought of that before I...just thought it was usual.” She shudders a moment, perhaps from the winter gusts or from fear of something. “I’ll...invest in some potions just in case. You said you were in the Healer’s Guild, is there any way to detect if I have something?”
Pilar patted Celaeno's shoulder. "Nosebleeds and such from strain can happen, but they should go away. It's possible you're just pushing yourself to your limit all the time, but that seems unlikely. I'm still learning the ropes of arcane healing, so I'll speak with my mentor and see if we can help."
“Yes, perhaps you’re right. I do tend to work myself too hard. Where does one find the time to sleep between all the studying, hmm?” Still, a sour weight settled in her stomach, that not even the rush of wind in her face and the wonder of flying atop the Couatl could quell. Her luck had held firm, but there were signs her good fortune since entering the land was starting to chip away. Perhaps this one wasn’t one of them, though? “I would appreciate the examination...just in case.”