RP:The Drow Disguise

Synopsis: Emrith, desires to become a drow, and so he hires Lanara for the task. The objective is for the witch to cast a glamour spell on the elf, and turn him into a drow, so that he may enter the Underdark, undetected, and free those being held captive.

Emrith arrives in the deserted garden after having made his way here by surreptitious means. He has checked more than is his wont, to ensure that he is not dragging a tail. Confident of his solitude, he reaches the agreed-upon spot without incident, having alerted Lanara that the venue has changed. He is carrying a light satchel with him, which clinks and clanks softly from time to time as the elf moves. Aside from this satchel, he is wearing his cloak, his typical assortment of leathers and ring mail, and his boots. Two scabbards, rather more plain--looking than the wood-elf usually uses, cross upon his back, holding his swords. The belt he favors girds his waist. The bag, in fact, contains a few extra pieces which will hopefully complete his ensemble. It only remains now to hammer out the details.

Lanara lands on the ground, directly beside Emrith, with a soft ‘thud’. She glances over her shoulder, and hopes she didn’t frighten the male, as she steps off of a golden runed broomstick. Tonight she was donning a long, deep purple, runed, robe, and she lowers her hood, for a scant second, before placing it atop her head once more. She had taken to the skies for this occasion, rather than risk being followed and she made certain to wear clothing that was not of her usual attire, for risk of being discovered. All that was visible was her hands, and the tip of her nose, as the moonlight peeks through the trees. The frequent blizzards seem to have died down, and she was grateful for that, as the robe offers minimal protection from the cold. “Ah, you’re here. Excellent. Are you truly prepared?” She, of course, was referring to his practice, and observation skill, that she required of him.

Emrith nods his head, rather curtly under the circumstances. "I have obtained the necessary information to do what I need to do, and to not be branded an infiltrator doing it. I do have a question, however." He shakes his bag loosely. "Will your spell affect what I wear and help it to look more like the clothing of a drow? If so, should I put on the remainder of the gear herein? Or does it matter at all? I do not wish to be discovered as an elf because of my garb."

Lanara rummages in her own satchel, chocolate brown hues appearing black in the darkness that surrounds them. Her voice is just above a whisper, as she knew just how secretive this mission would be. “You will not need clothing. When the spell full disguises you, it will place you in basic drow uniform. Dark gray and black tones, if I’m correct. You need not worry about carrying extra’s with you, or changing beforehand. Excellent question, though.” Finally, she lifts her gaze to Emrith’s, and extracts a small bottle from her satchel. “Drink this…” She orders, forcing the potion into his hand, as she takes a peek back at the entrance. Thankfully, Taylor was keeping guard, in her snow leopard form, and would alert them if someone were to enter the garden. “That potion will mask your scent, be it the scent of your blood, or the scent on your skin. It also will make it easier for you to accept the transformation, as it can be painful…”

Emrith takes the offered flask and drinks the potion. Its taste is something he cannot describe, but it settles a strange chill into his flesh for a moment as it washes down his throat. He drains it, imbibing the fluid in a few measured gulps, before reaching out with the flask. "That was...peculiar," he remarks. "Thank you for the information. I only hope this spell is sufficient to foll the D'Artes security." Emrith's own voice is pitched low, so that prying ears will have trouble hearing him over the snuffle of the occasional wind.

Lanara smiles faintly at Emrith, and retrieves the empty flask, as she hides it away in her satchel. Best not to leave behind any evidence. She sighs heavily, hoping this plan works, as planned. If not, Emrith could possibly perish at the hands of a drow, and leave her beloved sister with a broken heart. Surprise washes over her face, as Talyara isn’t currently present. Surely she would want to see her lover off? He was going on a rather dangerous mission… Her thoughts trail off as she widens her eyes, and scowls at the elf. In her elven tongue, she hisses a whisper. “You didn’t tell my sister, did you?! And of course this will get you past the security. It’s a fool proof plan. Trust me; my spells are not for the faint of heart.” This was rather true, as earlier today, her magic sent a man to his grave.

Emrith shakes his head, doing it slowly and deliberately. "I did not tell her. She knows that I have a mission, but not precisely what I intend to do in order to prepare. She knows that I may be going, but I did not see her before coming here. I suppose I ought to have done so." He hangs his head. "And, as for your spell work and its efficacy...I will trust you. If my cover is destroyed, I can fight." He is even now thinking of the faint tingling in his skin, evidence that Nymh's single-use faerie-fire spell is still waiting to be loosed.

Lanara nods, slightly upset with him over the fact that Talyara wasn’t included in his mission, though she seems appeased at the fact that he seems certain he can handle himself, if anything goes awry. “Very well… I will do all the work from here. Give me your hands.” Extending both of her dainty hands, she leaves them palm up, waiting for him to place his on top of her own.

Emrith does as asked, steeling himself for what will happen. He does not, in truth, know what to expect; he knows only that magic is involved, and that in its wake he will look, smell and sound like a drow. Elves and drow being fairly similar in many ways, the transmutation will not be too severe, and most of his movements - although not all - will appear drow-like, but the wood-elf knows that the most critical part of his mission awaits him ere long. His hands touch Lanara's with the faintest hint of a shake.

Lanara gently squeezes Emrith’s hands, looking at him intently, as she begins to speak in a language not of this realm. Tongues would be the best way to describe it, as her eyes roll back, only the whites visible. The rune tattoo on her wrist begins to glow, subtly at first, and then a bright beam of light is emitted, as her chanting grows louder. The wind picks up, her pulse quickens, and then all begins to calm down, the young elf and the weather as they were previously. Slightly dizzy as the magic courses through her veins, Lanara closes her eyes and bows her head. “Disguise his scent, disguise his appearance. Aide him to the underworld, grant him clearance. Only I can reverse this spell, so God and Goddess, hear me well. His name is Emrith, this is he. And as always, so mote it be! From elf to drow… Starting now!” A shock so powerful is causes Lana to yelp, would pass from her fingertips and shoot into Emrith’s hands, as the two are tossed backwards. Lana lands in a snow covered berry bush, and quickly looks over at Emrith, pleased to see that his skin was already several shades darker. The transformation was working, beautifully! Rising to her feet, she maintains her distance, grimacing as she hears his bones breaking, and his body contorting.

Emrith :: Never more than now is Emrith pleased that the elves and drow are close cousins of old. He feels the building of Lanara's magic, and has a moment to further prepare himself mentally before he and his companion are violently flung apart. As he feels his body rearranging, he begins first to pant, then to whimper. Finally, he loses a single scream, which he tries and fails to stifle with the flat of one writhing hand. His body is an agony of seething fire and snapping musculature. It seems as if it will never end...and then it does end, mercifully, or at least appears to slacken. He is still whimpering, and his voice still sounds the same. He gasps, sits up, rubs his eyes...and freezes. His skin is the requisite dark shade, and he utters a curse. It comes out in drow, which causes him to utter yet another curse. He knew this would happen, of course, but the reality is still a shock. He attempts to stand, wobbles, falls back into the snow. His second attempt is more successful. He turns toward Lanara and attempts to speak in common; this time, it works, though now his voice has an unmistakable Underdark accent. "It appears to have been a success," Emrith sighs. "I thank you." The buzzing feeling beneath his skin is now even stronger, as if the latent spell there has been enhanced, or unlocked in some way; all Emrith knows is that he does not intend to sleep before his mission, since it would likely be impossible.

Lanara sighs softly and nears Emrith, even going as far as poking the male in his ribs. It was impossible to discern a real drow from this imposter drow. Circling the male’s form, she whistles, and clasps her hands together in glee. It worked! And he would remain a drow, until she reversed the spell. “I’m sorry it was so painful, Emrith… You see, in order for the spell to work, I have to envision an actual drow. And I imagined one that was slightly shorter, and had different features than you, for fear of you being somewhat recognized. I know how important this is to you, to us elves, and I’m sorry I didn’t take the easy way out. But I know your life depends on it, so I had to be a bit harsh…” Her voice trails off, as she nods in response to his gratitude, the elf shyly wrapping her arms around his shoulders, in a quick hug. “Be safe, Emrith. Come home to my sister… And to the rest of us, my friend.” Her words are whispered in his dark ear, as she slowly pulls away from his form. “I will go now… Please keep me informed. When you need to see me next, to reverse the spell, send a white owl, and draw a black star on the letter…. Goodbye, Emrith.” Without waiting for a response, and hoping it wasn’t their final goodbye, she mounts her broom, and flies into the night.