RP:Toodaloo, Elazul!
Summary: Magik realizes his curse from Elazul has finally reached a breaking point. He stumbles to the Kelay Tavern, where Karasu had been awaiting orders from him, and she calls for the other members of his clan for assistance. Quintessa arrives to help get Magik to the relative safety of the Nameless Desert, and the two Arcane Stewards contain the crux of the fallout as the Lyastri is purged of his vampirsim.
Kelay Way
Kelay: the most famous part of the land. Something is happening. But you don't know what and by the looks of all the villagers around, and their confused expressions, neither do they. For the moment though it seems relatively calm, whether it is the calm before the storm though is yet to be seen. Perhaps more can be found out in the tavern to the north? Perhaps shelter in the great cities to the east and west could be found as well? You ponder which direction you should take and wonder if it will lead you onto your destiny be that glory, or death.
Coughing, gasping for air, retching, and screams of agony and pain fill the air outside of the Kelay Tavern. Magikrios Lyastri D'Chath is struggling to pull himself into the establishment. The door flings open violently before two pale hands finally grip at the bottom of the door frame, trying to pull himself through the entranceway. His black shirt and leather pants are freshly scorched and still smoldering, possibly revealing a bit too much skin to his liking. Just barely pulling himself through the threshold, he reaches out towards the patrons for any helping hand. He yells in a painful cry for help. His pale hands start charring black as he rolls onto his side to spew a thick black goo from his mouth. The tavern floor stands no chance against this sludge as it quickly sets aflame, burning a black blaze around the fresh mess. The Lyastri's eyes roll into the back of his head as his body suddenly curls into a ball and starts to violently shake. Black smoking goo starts to flow from every orifice in his face as the temperature around the Lyastri's body starts rising rapidly. As the shaking calms down for a quick moment, he manages to whisper something to himself as black smoke slowly rises from his body. Should anyone be listening to the shadows, a simple, "Help," would be heard.
Karasu runs an idle hand through her fringe as she paces around the tavern for a meeting to take place soon. “What is taking you two so long…” Given the relative safety of the forest town in recent months, her armor and heavy runic-jaguar pelt lay in the Shadows headquarters in favor of not having to sweat in the fresh wave of summer air. The half-feline is in her full human form, deep violet hair pulled back in a high ponytail with a bright red ribbon, warded with an alarm spell for any immediate dangers nearby. The enchantment on her heeled boots is temporarily disabled; the less people know that she can make her footsteps completely silent, the better. A pained cry makes a shiver run down her spine as she stops pacing. The voice the scream belonged to was both familiar and unfamiliar at once, and for a moment, she considers it a trick. Given that the tavern patrons turn their heads towards the door, she realizes that something was very wrong. The ribbon in her hair springs to life, emitting a high-pitched ring that only she could hear. “Sh--” The doors slam open, and the second she sees’ Magik’s pained face, she sprints across the tavern and kneels next to him. “Magik!!” The black goo starts to pour and she pales, trying to wrack her memory for anything that will help. “Stay with me, Magik! Eatenus exstinxisti.” Karasu flicks her wrist out, and a knee-high wall of thick ice arches in a semi-circle around the floor to keep the black goo hopefully from spreading. Karasu winces as she tries to put a hand on his back to comfort him, only to be singed by the black fire. Her other hand reaches up to press on a black mark on her ear where an earring would be. “Everyone, emergency at Kelay Tavern.”
Quintessa appears seemingly from the shadows themselves only seconds after receiving Karasu's call to arms, her lithe form materializing from the umbra from under her invisibility cloak between the buildings. She is supposed to be in Vailkrin plotting a rescue, but recent events had brought her away from her duties there yet again to take part in a different rescue. As mismatched eyes take in the scene here it seems to the changeling that a third rescue was in order- but this one more immediate. "Elazul's Bite," the hex blade curses, "It's time." Quick hands drop her hood and reach for her satchel, pulling out a small rod of turritella agate primed with transmutation runes as her pace speeds to reach the threshold of the Tavern. "We have to get him out of here," Quintessa pleads to Karasu, her blue and hazel eyes filled with dread. "I've been following this for months- If my calculations are correct Magik will level this whole damn forest if we don't hurry!" The changeling hands her stone to Karasu, pointing at the inscription written upon the object. "Repeat: Fy ngrym yw eich pŵer. Got it? Fy ngrym yw eich pŵer. I haven't the ability to teleport all three of us myself, but if you let me borrow your mana I can get us all the way to the Unnamed Desert. He'll be able to blow there without causing anyone any harm." With her agate focus rod passed to Karasu, Quintessa draws her trusty fluorite crystal and a piece of black chalk to inscribe the teleportation sigil upon the floor in a circle around the Lyastri. "Gogledd Dde Ddwyrain Gorllewin... Pedair cornel yma gadewch inni fod yno..." she slowly utters, the runes glowing a sickly pale green as the spell takes form.
Magik screams out in pain as he rolls onto his knees, forehead pressed to the floor as he grabs at his stomach. Black tears slowly flow from his eyes onto the floor below. As the pain surges through his body, he briefly looks around to assess the situation as best he could given his current position. Tavern. Patrons. More importantly, Karasu and Quintessa. "Yes. Teleport me. Please hurry!" he thinks to himself. As much as he wanted to express these feelings outloud the pain is too much. Best he can do his blood curdled moans, groans, and painful screams. Magik forces himself to hold back a sudden flare of energy that he can feel building up. The black ooze stops seeping for now. In between a long drawn out groan he finally manages a couple words, "Please hurry. It hurts."
Karasu exhales sharply, taking the rod from Quintessa. Meanwhile, tavern patrons and staff cower away from the entrance at the declaration of how dangerous the situation truly is. “We’ve got you, Magik. Her eyes trail Quintessa’s frantic writing as she begins the chant. “Fy ngrym yw eich pŵer. Fy ngrym yw eich pŵer. Fy ngrym yw eich pŵer.” The light intensifies around them as she repeats the inscription. The spell-blade does her best to not flinch away from the fire lapping at her knees for fear of breaching the circle. “Fy ngrym yw eich pŵer!”
Quintessa finishes her circle and the spell connects with a loud -clap- as dry, hot air from the desert seeps in from the openings of her portal. Reality bends as the hex blade syphons Karasu mana, the fluorite crystal brimming with the mystic forces provided by the half-feline. "Môr poeth o dywod! Ewch â ni!" Quintessa shouts, the portal ripping and tearing at the fabrics of space-time, causing them to fold and create a small, temporal wormhole. The nameless desert is clear as day now as sand enters the tavern carried upon the harsh winds of the changeling's spell. Her portal continues to expand until the entire floor below Magik disappears and his body, along with Karasu's ice, is sucked through and deposited in the sand. The portal sustains itself for only a second before it warbles and becomes unstable, pulling in tables and chairs from the tavern as it begins to collapse in on itself. Quintessa is unable to keep her balance and finds herself also tumbling into the gap of reality, her lithe, cloaked form dumped into the sand like a ragdoll. The edges of the portal begin to slowly contract giving only a few seconds to decide to follow after or not before it closes with a pop, leaving behind nothing but burning goop, sand, and useless chalk smudges on the ground.
Sea of Sand
Beyond the waves of wind, beyond the fiery touch of lightning and the chilling shrills of thunderbolts descending upon earth from the heavens, there is the Nameless Desert. Now, within its grasp, does one at last truly understands its many legends and now, standing alongside an endless sea of sand, will one comprehend its many mysteries with but a single, chilling notion -- those fortunate few who have returned to civilization and told tales spoke of the countless skeletons loitering the landscape, spoke of the rotting flesh and the deadly monsters of all shapes and sizes which patrolled their anti-society with sharp fangs, protruding horns, scythes held high, venomous acids at the ready. Still, the skies above are now blue, or raven during latter hours but never plagued by evil shades; the sun, in all its blazing glory, sends beam after relentless beam of heat which can escalate well into temperatures capable of burning skin and then flesh with little time needed. Even monks and paladins might find themselves feeling as though the heavens are shining a divine light which purges all evil and their noble souls are included in this equation as demons no different than the tormented monsters haunting this forever stretch of yellow granules. To the south, this stretch continues onward with no sign of stopping and to the east, there seems again some level of difference in the winds charging at greater speeds, though the tremendous gusts block passage and lastly, to the west, there seems to be but a mirror image of the same, permitting travel in only two directions -- back and forth.
Magik continues to fight the surge filling his body. As the portal opens Magik releases his stomach, covers his head, and squeezes his eyes shut. The patrons continue to scurry away from the on-going scene as tables and chairs are pulled into the portal as well. Oh, a beer! Nice. Mesthak at this point has just given up. Nancy is in a corner screaming. In the Nameless Desert, the portal opens up in the sky ready to dump the current inhabitants on a nice 45 degree angle into the desert sand. Magik continues to hold his position until he feels the floor under him give way. Falling through the sky, he tries his best to focus on a decent landing. Arms and legs spread to try to catch some drag, slowing his rapid descent. As the desert quickly approaches, he preps himself for a tuck and roll landing. Loose sand or not, the landing hits hard. The Lyastri rolls and rolls until he manages to gain his footing to turn his momentum into a gentle slide down a dune. Finally arriving at the bottom, he sits up then lays back, "What the fu.." Quickly realizing the other two may follow suit, he manages to scurry away to avoid any further injuries to himself or the others.
Karasu feels the floor give way beneath her as the spell is completed. A blast of hot air hits her eyes and she initially yowls and raises her arms to shield her eyes from what she fears may the be black fire. Then the hot air envelops her body and she looks up to see a bright blue sky and sands as far as the eye can see, that is approaching way too quickly! The spell blade curses and shouts, “Ventus!” A gust of wind blows from below to break their falls. As the ground seems to rise up to meet them, the ribbon is dislodged from her hair, emitting a deafening screech in warning of how terribly close to danger it is before the winds blow it away. She initially lands on her feet, but the loose sand gives way and she stumbles down the dune. Her footing is regained part of the way, and she looks around for her teammates. “Tess! Magik!” The familiar athletic build is spotted first, and she allows herself to slide the rest of the way down the dune. “Magik!” Her tone only gets more concerned as he tries to inch away from the feline’s approach. The changeling’s mention of razing the Sage Forest replays in her head and she gasps slightly in realization of what she’s done, backing up to the foot of the dune. “Tell me what to do, let us help!”
A table and chair neatly land in the sand, nearly perfectly as if someone was about to sit there, moments before Quintessa's light body collides with the table only to bounce off with a loud "Oof," and careen into the nearby chair, her legs getting tangled up in the wooden back. Still reeling from the less-than-successful spell and trying to catch the breath knocked from her, Quintessa kicks the chair away and pulls herself up by the table. Sand and heat whips around in the area violently as the changeling struggles to lower her goggles, the tinted glass a welcome reprieve from the bright light of the desert sun. Holding onto her bruised ribs, Quintessa stumbles closer to her clanmates, nearly dragging her feet through the deep sand. "We're out of the frying pan," the changeling begins, still out of breath. She doesn't need to finish the rest of the old Cenrilian proverb. "We have to contain it- either that or get far enough away to survive." Quintessa seems at a loss for once. "Nothing like this has ever happened before, so there's no precedent- No set course of action. We have use everything we know as Arcane Stewardesses if we all want to make it out of this alive."
Magik keeps kicking at the sand to keep pushing himself backwards away from his two compadres. At a much safer distance he finally gets to his feet and calls over to Kara and Tessa, "Stay back, but I think it's a false al.." His speech is rudely interrupted by a sudden ignition of black fire. The Lyastri's head snaps back, sending the fire out of his mouth and straight into the desert air because apparently it's not hot enough out here. A wide fiery pillar starts to form under his feet, pushing the Lyastri to float off of the ground and slowly into the air. The elf's arms are thrown outward, his legs start to dangle. He's finally lost all control. This was indeed the final surge that would rid him of his vampirism. The D'Chath blood has had enough of the Curse's intrusion. At the base of the pillar of fire, hot whips of more black fire lash out towards Kara and Tessa. The vicious cracking whips kick up the sandy desert, instantly melting the sand and sending large chunks of deadly glass towards the pair. The whips lash and crack about far enough away from the pair but a rogue strand of fire seeks out the two to either snap them in half or worse yet, wrap them up to join the fiery pillar of death.
Karasu almost wants to protest the last statement from the hexblade. ‘But I’m barely a Stewardess, I deserted the Guild!’ She thinks for just a hair of a second. Magik calls out to them and she reaches for her sword instinctively. Sagaribana is withdrawn and lashed out at the tendrils to parry the whip before it strikes at Quintessa. “Agh!” The halfling snarls and turns away as the shards tears at her exposed skin. There is a prick as one slashes against a black tendril inching across her neck and she nearly collapses on the spot as a surge of pain makes her drop her sword. Willing herself to stay standing, she grips Quintessa’s shoulder tight, sweat beading at her temples as the pain subsides. “I’m going to the opposite side, perform the seal evil spell.” Without much room for Quintessa to argue, Karasu shouts again, “Ventus!” A gust of wind kicks up, and the feline jumps in the air to allow the force to carry her to one side of Magik. The spell is repeated again and then she is standing at the opposite Quintessa, with the Lyastri between them. Her hands clap together, and an incantation is uttered before pulling her hands away to reveal a blue light. More shards embed themselves into her arms, going through her clothes and scratching at the skin beneath, but her focus does not falter. “Now!” Her hands are thrown out, and the light extends outwards to meet Quintessa’s half of the incantation in a perfect circle around Magik, hopefully strong enough to lessen the blow of the calamity about to occur.
Quintessa fights against the pain in her midsection to reach out as Karasu defects the oncoming attack, her fingers wrapping tightly around her sword. She can't just allow her friend to do all the fighting! Before Quintessa can draw, however, her ally has placed a hand on her shoulder and requests an evil-sealing spell. Quintessa swallows hard and nods her head, her blue and hazel eyes scanning the sandy area quickly before rushing to the fluorite crystal she had dropped before. "Curse of Elazul, hear me!" shouts the changeling as she holds her crystal up, pouring her mana into it once again. Karasu's incantation crawls along the sand to meet Quintessa and the necromancer brings up her left arm to wrap the spell over Magikrios like a dome. "I purge Thee! Take this scrap of dark magic back into the void along with your masters!" As the changeling makes these demands, her fluorite crystal hums loudly and intensely, trying to draw out the curse of vampirism from the Lyastri. "Return to the oblivion where Elazul and Khasad await!"
Magik 's form continues to float above the pillar. As the flames grow even more violent around his being his enchanted clothes, to prevent burning when his abilities are called upon, finally give to the intense heat. His normally and now fully exposed pale skin begins charring black. The pillar builds it's way up, completely consuming the Lyastri. Just beforehand, Magik manages to look towards Karasu and Quintessa. The dread in his eyes would make even the deadliest warriors break down. Magik did not scare often, but this was one of his scariest moments in his years in Lithrydel. Slowly, Magik's body lowers towards the center of the pillar as it extends outwards, threatening to pop at any second. As black as the flames are, it begins to even outshine the blaring sun above. The fiery whips suddenly retract back into the pillar as it continues to swell and push the limits of the cleverly summoned spell. Suddenly, the pillar in it's entirety appears to retract into Magik's being for only a split second before reappearing. The black fire spews straight up into the air like volcano where it would eventually die. A shockwave quickly follows with a deafening 'boom' but due to the incantation, is thrown straight into the air, away from the two conjurers. The flames burn off quickly, leaving a charred and naked elf in the sand.
Karasu presses her whole weight into her hands in an attempt to keep the flames from breaking the barrier. From over the roar of the flames, the screams from the Lyastri, and the dull buzz, she can barely make out Quintessa’s half of the incantation. Her eyes trail up to where Magik looks down on the girls, and she catches the fear in his eyes. Her will falters long enough for a black tendril to smack just short of her chest, and she wrenches her eyes away to keep her nerve. “Divine Three, have mercy on this child of Lithrydel, spare him the fate of Elazul’s curse.” She prays aloud. The light recedes, and for just a moment, she believes it to be over. Then the fire expands outward, and the force of it is enough to send the spell-blade flying back. “Magik...!” She gasps, forcing herself to her feet despite the world spinning beneath her feet. Karasu stumbles through the sands to make her way to the man. “Magik!” She reaches him and moves to put her hands on him to check his pulse. There’s hesitation, remembering the last two times she touched him or his weaponry. “Magik…?” The desert is suddenly silent again save for her pulse pounding in her ears as she undoes her cloak to cover him up. “Hey, look at me, do you know where you are?”
Quintessa begins to sweat against the draining energies of her and Karasu's spell, the same purifying energies used to shield the pair of girls away from the explosive forces of Magik's transformation doing much to sap the changeling of her strength. Quintessa's left hand moves up to assist holding the crystal aloft, her aura spiking and sputtering violently as it is exhausted of its supply of mana. By the time the last explosion happens, the hex blade is on her knees, shielding herself from the blast by nearly burying her head in the sand, body arms moving to brace in the back of her neck. For a long while Quintessa waits there, her body and mind completed wiped out, only able to comprehend the sound of Karasu shouting out for their mentor. The changeling lifts her head from the sand, tiny granules of rock falling out of her hair as she peers up where Magik was once consumed by a pillar of flame. She finally stands and removes her goggles before trudging though the difficult terrain to meet them, stepping around jagged slabs of glass that stretch out for two or three meters above the necromancer's head. "That went well," her weak voice says in a joking tone, bracing herself against one of the smoother spikes of glass jutting from the earth. "What's his status? Undead still? Alive? Regular dead?" Quintessa doesn't know what to expect.
Magik remained lifeless, eyes shut. No pulse. No breath. No heat or smoke. Nothing. A random gust of wind brushes against his face, knocking loose a piece of dried up and charred vampiric blood to reveal some skin with a little more color to it. He's still naturally pale, but not as pale as being undead. As of now, his life lies within the girls' hands.
Karasu’s breathing quickens as she realizes his body is not moving with breaths or stirring at her voice. “Magik, goddammit!” Her voice cracks with panic. She was too young and too pretty to be freaking out this often. “He’s not moving! Or breathing or anything!” She reaches out as the first chip of char is blown away and rubs the black chunks off his face, then to his chest to get a clear shot. “His skin is pink like he’s mortal again. We need to jumpstart his heart if he’s not undead, Tessa, give me your hand and put your hand out, like this.” Her own hands are visibly shaking as she gets ready for this. “This has to be precise, or we’ll cook him.” Karasu gulps thickly and exhales. “Fulgur percutiens.” A crackle of electricity sparks between her fingers, and through Tessa to the other hand to create a makeshift defibrillator. “Ready?”
Quintessa is still panting, sweat pouring down her neck carrying sand and dust with it. "We have to what?" The changeling has never heard of such a technique. Pushing herself away from the pillar of glass she was braced against, the hex blade drops to her knees opposite to Karasu at Magik's side and reaches out her hand. "Fulgur percutiens." Quintessa's hand buzzes weakly with the electrically charged spell and she gives her friend a wary look. "I'm almost out of magic," she informs her, "We have to make this count." When they were both ready Quintessa places her hand on his chest and repeats the spell, "Fulgur percutiens!"
Magik 's back arches once during the electrical charge. As quickly as it arched, his back drops back to the sand. The Lyastri suddenly gasps for the first real breath taken in years as he jerks straight up. Those fiery black eyes shoot open as he stares forward, "Holy s***!" His breath quickens for a moment as a panic attack onsets. He looks to Kara then back to Tessa. In remembering the same technique he has taught plenty of students, he practices the same. In through the nose, out from the mouth. The elf regains control over his breathing and reassess the situation. Everything starts becoming more clear. Desert. Fire. Hot. So hot out here. The girls look a mess. "We need to get out of here." Oh. And he's butt-neked. That was the least of his concern.
Karasu wheezes once the magic expends itself, her arms shaking as she throws both hands onto the hot sand to keep from passing out. “I’m gonna throw up... I thought you were dead.” She gasps as they all catch their breath. “I-- I probably have enough magic to get us back.” The pale green crystal is pulled from her satchel, and she gives a hoarse exhale, motioning for both of them to put their hands on it as well. Her eyes wrench shut as she begins the incantation. “Quavis deformatione ablata loci in domum suam.” As she recites it, the crystal pulses under their touch with increasing frequency. The feline leans in and presses her lips to the light. The pair would feel the ground shift beneath them and winds whip around their head as the world moved like a blur, from golden to deep browns, to lush greens, then the slate gray of civilization.
The Syndicate Grand Council Hall
Upon entering, you find yourself in a room that can be described simply as: Splendid. A magnificent cherry wood table, perfectly round in shape, with the finest white-gold inlay running along its edges, depicts the various races of Hollow traveling in a constant circle together. This commanding centerpiece was most assuredly a master carpenter's finest work. Surrounding the table are a series of high-backed chairs, each composed of the same adept wood-working and carved with uniquely elegant curves and patterns; yet none stands out as the superior to the rest, each artful piece as significant as the others. The only truly dividing factor of the chairs, are the colors of their plush velvet cushions--ranging from emerald to regal violet, crimson to onyx black; sets of four or five chairs arranged beside one another based on matching colors, as if to signify a gathering of varied officials. As regal and dominating as the meeting table is, the rest of the room is still rich in elegance. The smooth rock walls are colored a soft muted-coffee hue, visible between sections of velveteen curtains. Each curtain is of a matching hue to the chairs' upholstery, all bearing a painstakingly woven insignia, one for each of the prominent territories within Hollow: Enchantment, Larket, Venturil, Vailkrin, and Trist'oth. The floor is not outcast to the elegance of the room, constructed of gray marble so soft in color you are tempted to stoop down to touch it, if only to determine if appearances match texture. The veins coursing through the marble are, upon closer inspection, the same white-gold as found in the table, and they run from tile to tile without any semblance of seams immediately apparent. The occasional writing desk or side table--again of that same flawless cherry wood, graces gaps between curtains and provides further function to the room. Satin cushions are gathered in careful piles at random intervals, comfortable seating for those gathered but not members attending the table. Those sensitive to magic might sense the faint aura of protective enchantments coming from the walls, nothing interfering, but enough to ward off intrusive spells. If one is not left simply in awe at this room's perfect splendor, it could well be assumed they were a troll of little taste.
As soon as the teleportation seems to begin, it stops, sending the trio rolling in different directions on the hardwood floors of the Syndicate Headquarters. Karasu remains on the floor and flings the crystal at one of the banners before clutching her head with a groan of pain and a variety of colorful expressions.
Quintessa's stomach lurches at the feeling of being teleported a second time today as the hardwood floors of the Syndicate Headquarters rush to meet her. The changeling is on her knees again, her fluorite crystal spinning under the table as sand and ashes shed from her body. Quintessa still hasn't caught her breath by the time she crawls to rest her back against the wall, her sylphlike hands producing her silver cigarette case from within her cloak. Now that the trio was safely back at base she can't help but laugh manically at the events of the day. "Another successful mission, eh?" she says to the two, bringing a clove cig to her lips. "And you," The changeling glances at Magik, doing her best not to look too far south. "Put some clothes on. If Rinn turns up she'll slaughter all three of us." Quintessa tries to light her cigarette but she doesn't even have enough mana for a simple cantrip. "Delisha damn it all..."
Magik groans as he's thrown across the floor of the Grand Hall. If it weren't for the ash covering his body he would have a serious case of road rash. The elf slides into a pile of cushions and is quick to cover himself up with one, "Fu...Are you two okay? I'm so sorry.." He looks back and forth between the two, almost embarrassed, "Seriously, did I hurt anyone?" Magik knew what damage he was capable of but only remembers arriving at the desert and being lifted into the air by the flaming pillar.
Karasu turns away from the elf and lifts her shirt up. A tendril had left a nasty burn just above her stomach, and her knees were scorched with bits of melted fabric stuck to the skin from getting close to him. “I’ll live.” With the adrenaline wearing off, she’s suddenly much more conscious of the glass shards that had pushed itself into her skin along with small grains of sand when they landed. With a huff, she forces herself up and undoes the knot on the cloak she had started untying earlier. Not meeting Magik’s eyes, she flings it at him. “Tie around your waist, and then burn it when you’re done.” She sasses before falling back on her rear with a gasp of pain. “So like… you’re a real elf again? No vampirism?” Her eyes fall on Quintessa fiddling with her cigarette and she snorts. “That’s Sven’s way of telling you to not smoke. Carry a little tinderbox like everyone else.” She reaches into her satchel and slides it across the floor.
Quintessa messes up her hair, scattering more sand and grit all over the floor before her mismatched eyes light up at Karasu's tinder box. "Why worry about Sven when I am so blessed by the goddess right before my eyes?" Quintessa winks at the feline before striking a sulfur-tipped match to bring up to her cigarette. The relief it gives her is the most satisfying a smoke has been for the odd girl in a long time. "I'm not hurt," claims the changeling, "At least I don't think. That purification spell is going to leave me frazzled for a while, however."
Magik adjusts himself with the caught cloak to aid the pillow in hiding his naughty bits. He then takes a few deep breaths and holds a finger to his neck to feel his pulse. He also runs his tongue along his teeth. No more pointers. "Pulse. No fangs and.." his stomach rumbles loudly, "and I'm starving." The Curse of Elazul was no more! His ears receive a quick feel as well to make sure he was infact still an elf. As defeated and tired as he felt, he smiles, "I'm back." He reaches up to his head to shake away any sand and soot that he could, "I need clothes.." He carefully slips through the door just to his side into the armory for a quick moment. He eventually reappears with atleast a pair of leather pants on. Dirty and tired, the Lyastri makes his way to the large table to collapse into his normal seat. He of course snagged a bottle of beer on the way from the goodie table. "Cheers, my friends. I owe you both." With that, the top is popped and the beer is guzzled.
Karasu lets out a little snort of a laugh as the man checks himself for signs of being alive. "There's plenty of disgustingly delicious fried tavern food just above us." Karasu gives a deep breath-- "For real this time." She commands her legs and forces herself to her feet with a long groan. "I'm the one that should be thanking you, Mister Meditation Master." The Arcane Stewardess ruffles the sand from her bangs and holds out a hand to Quintessa to stand, "C'mon. This goddess wants to share a beer with you." Karasu grins, her catty canines sticking out. For at least one night, it seems as though things are finally going to be alright.
Quintessa takes Karasu's hand and pulls her aching body to her feet, her free hand bracing against the wall behind her as she groans in protest. "Well, if my goddess demands it..." A cheeky smirk is offered to the stewardess, as the changeling regains her balance. "Don't mention it," Quintessa says to Magik, her mismatched eyes flickering back to him. "You two would do the same for me," the changeling wants to add, 'if I wasn't totally faking being a vampire' but she leaves that bombshell to drop on them some other time. "Now, about that drink."
Magik waves the two off with the tiredest of smiles, "Have fun you two. I'll throw something together for myself down here. Maybe I'll go take a trip to the bath house first…"