RP:You Had A Good Run

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Alas, all hilarious shenanigans must come to an end. Now that Ernest has helped Lanlan achieve his dreams, betrayal is inevitable--but then, in this case, it's for a good cause. Let's get Odh's body back, yeah?

Coral Castle

Lanlan has once again welcomed Ernest into the Coral Castle, and again they sit in comfy chairs surrounded by bookshelves formed naturally in the coral walls. The shelves are filled, almost entirely, by illusions of books. The only real books in this place are the few Lanlan and Ina brought with them or recently acquired, and most of those aren’t even on a shelf. They’re stacked on a table in here. The only lighting is burning in dim candles, placed distantly from each other. Light isn’t needed here, it’s only to achieve a look. Lanlan pours out two tiny chalices of brandy and offers one to Ernest. “To glorious success,” he says, as he drinks one. “And! The spoils of our success.” He offers Ernest two things, one appears to be a simple scarf, and the other a simple envelope. “Now of course you must realize,” says Lanlan lighting a cigarette, “that the fun is over. You knew you’d have to give Blindy back his body eventually. My colleagues have been after you for a while and...well it’s been fun. Nothing personal, obviously, you understand.” But the traps have already been set, and one of them has been given. This was merely a professional courtesy among swindlers.

Ernest was, at this very moment, crawling over the pile of stolen books with a Helpin' Hand and quietly absconding with a few that he knew he wanted to read in more detail. He'd known something like this was coming--after all, Lanlan was still a member of the Mage's Guild and a good friend of Odhranos. A betrayal would be inevitable, and so he'd set himself up accordingly once they'd acquired some results for their scheme. Accepting the items, he slipped the envelope into his pocket with a good-natured nod and slung the scarf over one shoulder. "Of course. I expected nothin' less. Professionally, ya realize, I gotta swear that I'll have vengeance against ya fer turnin' on me, but I respect a well-placed turnabout an' I hope we get ta work together again later." With that, Ernest flung one of those flash-blinding magnesium-laced fireworks at the ground floor alongside a smoke bomb and, using a few Helpin' Hands for propulsion, stepped up through the air and launched himself out of an open window, where he snapped his fingers and summoned a crystal globe into existence around himself, which hit the outside slant of the roof, bounced, and began rolling away at high speed, trailing faint wisps of darkness from the Helpin' Hands that pushed it along.

Karasu did not waste any time upon her return from the scorching deserts. The travels she had made on foot, for fear of disrupting the magical artifact’s ability, had been long and arduous, and it was finally coming to an end. An owl she had previously left in southern Cenril with those still devoted to the art of the spellblades returns to her with a simple message from Lanlan. Karasu was not in the know regarding his recent antics in Xalious, and she likely would not care to know even if some semblance of peace was restored. She just cared about returning the divining compass in her hands to its rightful owner, and had no reason to doubt the sender. It is because of that care that she is now finalizing traps along the perimeter of the dilapidated castle. Tripwires have been set up across the floors of the least-traversed openings of the castle, barely visible with sand kicked over them. Of more obvious note would be the garroted wires hung across openings high in the coral walls that were once windows. The wires criss-cross to suspend runes in mid-air, wound tightly enough that the runic spelling has been covered by the wire to conceal what the spell is or how close one needs to be to activate it. Dressed in full bronze-mithril armor, Karasu crouches in a corner outside the castle, keeping an eye on flickering candlelight to indicate where the pair are. “Remain on standby, Shadow Raven.” The demifeline murmurs under her breath to no one in particular, looking down to adjust the trigger for a trap. Karasu looks up as a crystal globe makes its way through the one hole Lanlan had told her not to cover up for fear of it looking too obviously like a trap. “Son of a-- Ina, now!” Karasu shouts. Unseen, but affirmed with a giggle, the crystal globe would soon find itself rolling downhill to meet a line-up of giant gelatinous puddings, prepared to bounce the globe back through the window of the coral castle.

Lanlan covers his eyes to avoid being blinded by the flashbang, because of course he didn’t expect to be immediately forgiven, just like Ernest expected to be betrayed. And obviously he told Karasu not to cover that window because having one easy escape would be too tempting to resist, and that’s where another trap would lie! So after Ernest bounces back in through the window, he would plunge into the portable hole. Lanlan sees him coming back after bouncing on the combat jello Ina prepared, and pulls a lever. A huge seam opens in the floor and then big slabs of stone fall down on hinges. A trap door covering a hole! There’s nothing in the hole except a greased up slide enchanted with slipperiness that would drop him into a locked jail cell in the dungeon one floor below, where countless other traps surely lie just in case.

Ernest had been anticipating being able to just roll his way out of here, but the fact that suddenly his path was blocked by what appeared to be weaponized gelatin had him trying to redirect his Helpin' Hands to give his escape ball some lift. Alas, it was too little too late, and the bounce seemed to be expertly aimed to dunk him right back through the window and into the castle. The hamster ball was too ungainly to change its direction, and its surface slid perfectly along the slide. Ernest, voice muffled by the crystal, was probably cussing up a blue streak as it fell straight into the locked cell in the dungeon and bounced around the bars, ringing them comically like bells in a pinball machine. Grunting, he waved a hand and split the ball in half once it eventually rolled to a stop and staggered around for a bit to regain his balance. "A cell, eh?" he muttered, moving to the door and using one of his Hand-Eye Coordinators to examine the lock. "Is it my birthday already?" A thin lockpick was slipped out of the seam in his longcoat and with nimble fingers he started to work on jimmying it open. It wouldn't take him very long at all, but it was still a good fifteen seconds of pause during which someone might be able to get into position and arm some of the other traps.

In the center of the hallway of the trap-room is a large wooden shipping crate, with only one opening facing downwards. The box has been tilted at an angle and propped up with a stick clearly tied to a string that disappears under the sand, with what seems to be just an ordinary crossbow underneath the box, lying innocently in the sand next to an equally innocent still-hot cup of tea on a saucer. Was this a proper trap or a practical joke? If the crossbow was touched, someone would find that the mixed wooden handle was covered in runic engravings, almost invisible from a distance and in the shadows of the coral castle. This trap would very quickly drain the mana from whoever was holding it. The tea on the other hand, had no runic engravings on the cup or saucer. It was simply laced with a tasteless sedative. Alternatively, knocking the box over would release all the bats sleeping inside. The box is large enough that going around it would not be an option. Karasu quickly climbs through to the window to stand next to Lanlan and peers in. “While I’m here…” She couldn’t see the body snatcher, but she’s still tempted to call down, “Hey! If Quintessa and Shishi don’t kill you tonight, then stop flirting with freaking my sister, it's freaking disgusting to hear you two making necromancy puns.” Satisfied with the admonishment, she taps the daith hoop in her ear. “Come in, Raven.” A pause. “Damn, I knew there was a disruption here. I’ll go get her myself. Here, give this to Valrae, I already sent her a letter explaining what to do.” With that, the demifeline is gone as soon as she appears, leaving behind an alexandrite-topped compass in Lanlan’s hands.

Lanlan accepts the compass, without a word. Only after Karasu disappears does he say, “Yes, I will definitely give this to Valrae,” all steeped in sarcasm. He has no idea what it is and assumes its just a nice present, and who deserves a gift more than Lanlan? Valrae? No. But, Ernest plunged into the hole. Lanlan knows this can’t be more than a delay for him, so it’s time to move on. He returns the lever back to its place, closing up the floor again, and then pulls one beside it. This one opens up a discrete staircase under the bookshelves, where he can leisurely make his way downstairs. But his secret staircase leads to a secret door...which is disguised as another wall covered in a lifesized painting of Gevurah. He looks through her eyes, eager to see the result of Karasu’s trap, and intervene with another one of his own.

"Click out of one... two is binding... little click out of three..." And with a firm twist, Ernest had the lock open and the door swung wide to reveal a hallway... with a box... and the most cliched bait he could think of. "Oh, what have we here," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "A nice tea? And a crossbow! How delightful, I think I'll just," and with a sudden flurry of quick-drawing he pulled out his crossbow and shot the stick, dropping the box and disturbing the mass of bats on the inside, causing the whole thing to shake violently, "what in tarnation are you tryin' ta do ta me." Going -over- the box was now an option, though with the way the bats were freaking out and shaking it it looked more perilous than it probably was. With a bit of terramancy, just to be on the safe side, Ernest conjured a couple of spikes of earth from the stone walls of the dungeon to hold it down while he crawled up and started to make his way through the narrow passageway between the ceiling and the top of the crate. Sure, he could have just used terramancy to go down or around, but his opponents were likely expecting that.

Lanlan watched as he scrambled over the box...and INTO THE NEXT TRAP. Because the ground directly on the other side of the box was covered in a hyper-adhesive jelly. Also made by Ina and designed for battle! and making taste buds fall in love. It would also stick to boots and shoes. And why? Why would anyone want Ernest to stand still in that particular spot? So they could -arrest- him? No. At the end of the corridor he was facing, two double doors opened up. Or more accurately, were forced open, by a giant wooden cauldron on wheels careening down a ramp. The cauldron was full of hot fudge, also innovated in Ina’s battle-cookbook. This stuff was quick-drying, and once the cart slammed into Ernest, he would likely be drenched in it, where it would soon solidify into a chocolate shell almost as hard as concrete. But was not made of rocks or Earth, luckily, Unlike regular cement.

Ernest spun himself around and dropped feet-first to the floor--right into a puddle of... what was this, glue? He had half a mind to just leave his boots and bill for them later, when suddenly a slamming noise interrupted his train of thought and a cauldron barreled towards him. "What in Sam Hill," he started, but even trying to shoot the wheels off the cart caused the cauldron to spill its quick-hardening fluids all over him, rapidly solidifying into a firm chocolate shell. Delicious, but also dangerous. Not something he wanted to be stuck in forever. Fortunately, his longcoat had runes on it that could help with this--with a soft "fwoom" noise it lit itself on fire, and the chocolate began to slowly melt away again, a dull orange glow visible through the thinner parts. Of course, this process would take time, and he still hadn't quite figured out the situation regarding the glue on the floor, so if there were still more traps to pile onto him, there'd be ample opportunity to launch them...

Lanlan , out of necessity, had to implement a magical contingency in case of fires. Ever since Ina imbued that chunk of metal with the soul of a vengeful, angry phoenix, there -were- fires. The result was that almost nothing was flammable anymore. It all burned up. The other result, was a set of enchanted buckets that would animate at the first sign of smoke. Though they were placed in strategic points, a couple were placed in the kitchen on principle. The magical buckets retrieve water from a giant trough, and then hover haphazardly towards the source of the fire. Meanwhile, Lanlan scurries in his secret tunnel, running across another hallway just under Ernest, and setting yet another trap! Then he runs up and walks through the fake wall as the buckets of water empty themselves onto Ernest, hopefully putting out hte fire and letting the chocolate stay firm. “Oh, Ernest...You’re all washed up! Why not call it a day, eh? You’ve had a good run.” Then he pulls out the compass Karasu gave him, and the note that came with it. “Hold open and press to his--okay. That’s all?” So Lanlan proceeds to attempt to press the compass containing Odhranos’s soul onto Odhranos’s body’s heart. That should solve everything.

Ernest was not to be dissuaded from his escape attempts so easily--repeated splashes of water did indeed re-harden the chocolate, but the fact that the fire was powered by the magic in his runes kept it hot, and the combination of the two made the chocolate shell increasingly brittle. Pieces of it began to flake off and the cowboy started thrashing in place, cracking his prison repeatedly like he was trying to hatch from an egg. That was when Lanlan made the decision to crack a pun! Combine that with Karasu's shout from earlier and, well, it was now officially villain banter time. "I ain't outta tricks yet," he snarled, grinning ferociously under his chocolate mask. "In fact, I might even come out aHEAD!" The last word was punctuated by him violently ramming his face against the chocolate, shattering a good portion of it and also possibly headbutting Lanlan in the process, right as the compass was about to be placed to his chest. The water also had the delightful side effect of diluting the glue holding him down, and so with a few strategic thwacks he was free of this particular trap and attempting to run again for the exit. Now, ultimately, he did want Odh returned to his rightful body, which is why he didn't take the opportunity to try and put a couple of crossbow bolts into Lanlan as he ran, but he still felt it was necessary for the narrative of it all to make the man work for it. Just in case, however, he sent a couple of Helpin' Hands back to his storage unit to fetch him his proper body for when all this went south.

Lanlan thought for the briefest of moments, that he could dodge the headbutt. But then the question flickered, of whether or not he -should-. If he had time to consider it, the answer was obviously no. That being said, he slumped against the wall with his nose bleeding while Ernest ran past, making his way for the exit. But which door would he take? The one that was currently being magically disguised as just another section of wall? Or the solid coral face that was being disguised as a conveniently open door, with a slight incline leading out to what was apparently, a receiving entrance. Designed to handle cargo coming from outside. It looked like freedom. Might even encourage a hearty sprint. But running so fast into solid coral was liable to stop Ernest flat.

Ernest didn't think twice about what he saw and shot straight towards the open door, barreling forward at full "Get Out Of Dodge" speed. Which meant that Lanlan wasn't the only one to get his nose busted as Odhranos's face collided at maximum running velocity into the coral face. Bell solidly rung and having just about forgotten what that felt like before temporarily regaining fleshy bits to reverberate inside his skull, he fell over backwards onto his butt with a quiet "Owww..." and had to take rather longer than he'd hoped for to get back to his feet. "Yeah, ogay," he grunted, injury screwing up his pronunciation, "inusionisd. Bages senmz." Gripping the bridge of his nose with index and pointer finger and trying to clear the stars from his eyes, he stumbled along the wall with his other hand outstretched alongside it, trying to find the real opening.

Kasyr sighs, one hand flicking up to tug at one of his Calico ears. For the last little while, the Kensai has been waiting on a section of the beach, staring pointedly at the castle. After all, Ernest had seen fit to have -business- cards, which meant the swordsman was in possession of an empathically charged object to track him by. Sure, he was missing out on the specific hi-jinx going on, but he could roughly track where the man was at a given moment, as well as get a bit of insight into his state. This also meant that he was perfectly positioned to enter the scene once Ernests struggles forward provide him with the hint of a hope spot. "Oh no you don't."

Kasyr rolls his shoulders, and with an invocation of the electrical energies intrinsic to his fighting style- surges across the beach, superheated grands of sand kicked up in a plume behind him. Within moments, he's swept into the coral castle, Disregarding the slendour of it's curious hallways, and winding his way through it's stairwells and halls to be on the other side of the door Ernest is all poised to open. And all before the super heated Granules of sand-turned-glass have a chance to touch the ground. What this means, is he's perfectly poised to just swing a fist straight at Ernests gut the moment the door swings open, and the prodigious speed he's moving at means he'll be more than likely able to side step the -obligatory- crossbow bolt that is -likely- to get fired off as a reaction. That said, There's a rather particular issue in this case. See, Kasyr's got a fair bit of anger to work out- due to Lanlan's recent antics, and where The illusionist' continued existence is a necessity- Ernest, even despite his host, is beginning to lean more towards that of a liability. As in- The Kensai isn't -going- to stop throwing punchs. Sure, some Logical part of the swordsman brain is trying to invoke Daedria's power to try and mitgate some of the damage a hit would do at that speed by imparting a bit of healing energy. But- potentially having bones broken, then healed, then broken again is- well- This could be a problem. "Just couldn't draw a line somewhere, could tu?"

Lanlan wipes his nose on a handkerchief and pokes his head around the corner, before disappearing again. Kasyr looks mad. Better to just let him get all his frustrations out before saying hello. So he leans his back against a wall and waits for the noises to die down while examining his cuticles.

Karasu strolls in leisurely behind Kasyr after the first few punches are thrown. “Oh, I found Kasyr, by the way.” The crossbow bolt arcs towards the spellblade, but with a spit of fire that is black from the moment it leaves her lips, then turns pink before dissipating, the bolt is incinerated just centimeters from her face. “Alright, that’s enough Kasyr.” More punches are thrown by the Kensai, who seems too enraged to listen to her. “Kasyr.” Her expression sours, and the blunt-ends of the sword wrap around his wrist. “For Xalious’ sake, can it wait until he’s back in a body you don’t have to feel bad about healing? You’re wasting mana.” When Ernest opens his mouth, the demifeline puts a heeled boot on Odhranos’ ankle and begins to apply pressure until she feels something underneath her weight give. Satisfied with the amount of damage caused to not be completely devastating when its rightful owner is returned, she reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws the still sealed letter. “For Sven’s sake, you didn’t even bother reading this? No wonder you’ve been running so hard.” The demifeline puts a heeled boot on Odhranos’ ankle and begins to apply pressure. Her eyes seem to glow in the dark light as she glares down at him. “Open. It.” Whether he would or not, her reaction would still be the same, the simple utterance of, “And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor, shall be lifted nevermore.” The recitation for the Raven of the shadows.

Ernest took the first hit hard, and let out a "whoof" noise as the wind was knocked from his lungs. This didn't stop him from quickdrawing in retaliation, but it did throw off his aim enough for Kasyr to weave his way around the shot. After he'd taken a couple of hits, he managed to engage his longcoat's -other- set of defensive runes and put up a barrier around himself with them. The problem was that the barrier was flexible like the fabric, and Kasyr was throwing punches instead of stabbing him. "Did so draw a lide," he muttered, still not able to pronounce quickly, as the next punch shoved him back against the wall. "Ain't dumb noddin' da his wi--" and that was what he got out before the girl who had said something about her sister--what sister? he didn't even know who she was--smashed into his ankle. His reaction was to throw an elbow at her face, but she was already getting inside his guard. Legs shaking, head dazed, he slumped back against the wall--well, this was it, he'd indeed had a good run as Odh. Time to skedaddle. "Oh, so y'wan' me da read id," he gasped, squinting at the repeated attack on his ankle. "I reggomed I'd sabe id bor a rainy day. You oben id ib ids so imbordand." That recitation seemed pretty ominous. A bit of subtle terramancy while he was using his words placed a small crevice into the wall behind him. Not enough to escape through, but enough to hide a Helpin' Hand with a particular set of sigils all over it. If they were gonna force him out, he wanted a place to go of his own choosing.

Quintessa had been lying in wait this entire time like a deadly spider, patiently waiting for her prey to fall into her trap. That was her place in all of this after all, to sit back, watch things from under the security of her invisibility cloak and wait for the perfect moment to strike. Silent. Undetectable. Apathetic. As a warlock and a high ranking member of the Necromancer’s Guild, Quintessa knew exactly what had to be done to evict a foreign spirit from a host’s body; She had to perform the Rights of Exorcism once again. Remembering her experience pulling Mhad'xlyn from Karasu’s body, Quintessa focuses all of her arcane might into a single Sutra Scroll, one bearing the Major Mark of Exorcism on the forefront. From her vantage point Quintessa could watch as Ernest tried to avoid her allies, her sigual building energy every second that ticked by, blacker than midnight, blacker than the depths of Quintessa’s hatred. The sigil sucked all the light and life from the atmosphere around her, and if not for being hidden under her guise of invisibility the black lettering could burn into your retina, leaving a haunting ghost image that reportedly lingered for hours and hours. But the changeling didn’t look at the ancient writing, she merely posed with it in her hands muttering the phrase “Gwahardd yr ysbryd erchyll hwn… Gwahardd yr ysbryd erchyll hwn… Gwahardd yr ysbryd erchyll hwn…”

Each time it was spoken her spell grew stronger and stronger, even the power of her communication earring being snuffed out by the vacuum of mana Quintessa was creating. Each word spoken like applying ink from a calligrapher's brush, painting her intentions on the very fabric of reality, her dark magic sinking through, bleeding in from the shadow realm as she drew from it too to fuel her Necromantic Sutra. She would cast him out of Odhraons’ body and back into the void- most likely to seek out his original body wherever Ernest had stashed it. The hunt for him would have to continue, but at least they will have retrieved the kidnapped Archmage and ended the impostor’s destructive mischief. When her target is within range and the signal given by Karasu, Quintessa taps her heels together to activate the Black Tides runes etched into her heeled boots, a pulse of mana creating a small portal for her to dip into and back out of. Using this method she crosses the distance between her and Ernest, popping out right before him with invisibility cast aside and her Sutra Scroll aimed right for his forehead. Upon contact all the mana Quintessa had been collecting since the beginning of this fight would flow into Odhranos’ body, searching for the malevolent spirit known as Ernest and wrench control of the body free in one final burst of necrotic energy, the force of the wave eating away at her exposed skin as a consequence of using such powerful magics. A willing sacrifice of flesh. Her goggles protected her eyes and her cloak most of her body, but her hands and cheeks were withered by the spell’s backlash, causing her to stagger backwards momentarily stunned as she reeled in the intense agony. No scream passed her lips, however, the changeling burying the pain underneath all her fury, biting her bottom lip until it bled and clenching her peeling fists. It would take a moment for Quintessa to recover, but she would not leave here until the job was done.

Kasyr actually relents when Karasu's whip coils about his fist, and the unnatural acceleration that accompanied every hit abruptly halted- the weapon pulled so taut that the blunt steel had started to dig into steel. Her words were true enough, after all- They were here to end Ernests Antics' not his life. And yet- 'noddin' da his wife'. The swordsman mouths the words, and a violent rage swims to the surface- with such vile potency it threatens to sear through his being and leave his chest bursting. In his peripheral vision he can see Tessa emerging from the shadows, all but poised to put an end to this. But- it's not enough. All at once, the amount of pressure on Karasu's whip intensifies several fold- digging deeper into the flesh, until the Kensai's flesh untilt here simply isn't anything to hold onto. Not because she's removed the limb- but due to the manner in which it briefly converts into electricity so Kasyr can send a haymaker straight at Ernadhros Jaw and shatter it. "Touch Inks and I'll kill everyone you care for." There's a glint of silver that comes from the swordsmans other hand, before he promptly buries a scalpel into the body snatchers shoulder. "Consider this a warning." Sure, Odhranos is likely going to feel this later? But for right now- Ernest gets to enjoy what it's like to have working nerves. And Kas is sure as hell going to abuse that fact to ensure any last minute evocations are choked out over blood. It's not like they -don't- have a number of healers present. It just..has to wait until the exorcism is complete.

Lanlan could tell that different noises were happening, and that Kasyr was at least mollified for now. And more to the point, Lanlan was sufficiently composed that he felt he could cope with a tempest if one were to strike here. So he rounds the corner and approaches, only to be mortified by what he sees. Odhranos has been brutalized! Yes, they were exorcising him, and sometimes these things to result in the possessed’s body being ravaged. But usually it was the intruder’s doing! But that wasn’t all, Quintessa, who arrived only just then, was having her flesh flayed by her own spell, and it was gruesome. “...” Probably best not to interrupt, actually.

Karasu was considering breaking Ernest's jaw until Kasyr gets in one more hit. Once her sword is put away, she puts a hand on Kasyr's shoulder. "Seriously, don't be gross, Ernest." Not like he can hear her over the painful soul-ripping anyways, but.

Ernest cursed his broken nose. Apparently saying he -hadn't- done anything to Inks--and had in fact done his best to make sure Inks was actually well-looked-after and taken care of--actually meant that he was worth getting punched -yet again-. Frig, maybe this Kasyr guy -was- worth kicking out of the Mage's Guild. Then that blast of darkness surged through him and he couldn't help but scream. It felt just like getting yanked, as he'd had happen before in his own body, but this time he was fairly well seated into a living one and it -hurt-. Now, getting cast into the void itself would likely have been a death sentence given the tenuous grasp he had on reality as it was. Fortunately, he had an anchor point right there in the floor behind him to latch onto. The little Helpin' Hand in the wall spasmed as Ernest's entire soul slammed into it, Odhranos's body finally going fully limp. Unfortunately, a Hand does not have a good way of communicating, so instead of leaving them with a final taunt, he instead used a bit of mana to remote into his usual body, and then released his hold on the Hand, leaving it as a bunch of bones sitting in a crevice in the wall. Opening his eyes and sitting up, Ernest rubbed his jaw as echoes of the pain flashed through his mind. "There ya go, Odh," he said with a grin, to nobody in particular because he was alone inside his office. "This is where I'd bill ya fer the other half o' my service," he stood up and headed to the makeshift bar to pour himself a drink of water, "but I reckon by this point a new hat should suffice."

Karasu is the first to see the clenched fists of Odhranos' body go limp, along with the rest of him. Being seated and blinded by the power of Quintessa's necromancy, it would be hard for her to see it as well. "There!" Karasu moves away from Kasyr and kneels in front of Quintessa to pry her off of the Sutra Scroll. "It's over. You did it." She untucks the scarf under her armor to wrap around her peeled and withered hands now dripping with blood from the force of her long tapered nails digging into them. "It's over." Looking over at Odhranos' unconscious and extremely battered body, she remarks, "Lanlan. You still have the compass, right? Both of you, get ready to carry him, we'll have to put both pieces of him back together later."

Kasyr . .. Well- Kasyr has gone from mollified by violence, to briefly comforted by Kara and finally, to 'Blinded by Science'. Exorcism was a science, after all, right, or an art? It's a weird question, anyways- but it's something to think about while you're rubbing at your eyes waiting for them to stop hurting. "Calice espece de crapaud." The details of his surroundings start to creep back in, objects gaining definition and color with every passing second, until he finally feels well enough to get back to his feet. "Aye aye, ou quoi-ce-soit." Karasu's order is heeded, the Kensai moving to take hold of Odh's shoulders so he can begin tugging the man. For like all of a moment before he grows -highly- distracted by the weird angles in which Odh's broken ankles are moving around. "You can get the legs, Lan." And kas will actually make an effort to properly lift the poor guy up.

Lanlan doesn’t exactly see Ernest’s soul leave Odhranos’s body, but it’s clear anyways when the lights go out of his eyes. Now that the chaos has seemingly ended, he feels safe enough to approach. He eyes Kasyr and Karasu with stern looks and offers Quintessa a clean handkerchief. As if that could possibly help. It’s the thought that counts though, right? “My, that was something. Congratulations.” Now for his friend. Odhranos was practically inside out, and he looked disgusting quite frankly. “See how they treat you when you’re gone,” he says to Odhranos’s pulped body, holding out his hand to his battered and distorted face, almost like to caress it. But not quite because, its kinda sick, and he wouldn’t know the difference anyway. “They treat you like refuse. But that’s what you get for leaving when I -told- you to find another way. Now look!” But then Lanlan has a thought, and waves his hand over him slowly leaving a clean, healthy looking face in its wake. At least he can bear to look at him now. Then he looks at both Kasyr and Karasu incredulously, “I’m not touching that,” he says about the mangled body. Not with his hands anyway. He touches a finger to his drow House insignia. Or vagrant’s insignia to be accurate, and bestows its levitation to Odhranos’s body. Now it’ll follow him upstairs and they can lie it down on a table or a bed.

Lanlan turns around briefly if they’re still there. “You found you’re way in I assume? Feel free to find your way out, now. You’ve done enough, I’ll see if Valrae and Khitti can do the rest. But if you want to stay, understand that there will be no more of…” he gestures with his hand vaguely at the blood staining the floor and debris… “That. None.” Then he continues upstairs and into the castle’s infirmary.