To Walk with Disease

[Rethen Kel'Sviet]

Rethen Kel’Sviet stared blankly down at the mixture before him. The bubbling cauldron before him contained some very interesting chemical compounds – specifically pure extract of Plaguewalker and some of the crystallized venom he had obtained from a previous run in with the damnable creatures.

And now he finally had the ability to truly test the potential of the volatile substance.

On his instance, he had traveled to Alchemist's Way, an outpost of the Vulcan Alchemist League. Nestled among the mountains and settled next to the river, it was one of the largest funded laboratories outside of Fasemoor. And as such, it was stocked with the equipment and reagents he needed to complete his tests.

And with any luck, render his new product.

Rethen smirked and pulled the cauldron off of the flames, the chains it dangled from creaking as the large pewter pot was moved out of the stove. Moving the large, still bubbling, vessel was easy thanks to the rolling system of rollers and pulleys. Rethen maneuvered the vessel around to a large container. With a tip on the spelled handle, the vessel tipped and emptied its contents into a shimmering vessel at the center of a runic circle.

He was so close.

“And now we see what this can really do…” the alchemically inclined elf murmured, his eyes dancing in the eerie violet glow of the Loadstones that represented the four principle direction. Loadstones were simply gemstones infused with magic. And Rethen had further upped their power by infusing each stone with an element that corresponded with its direction.

The laboratory circle was glowing as he stepped into his spot next to the large crystal container of Plague – what he called the Ichor of Disease – and placed his hands on two Moonstones laced through with silver. The elf closed his eyes and forced his power down into the stones.

There was a surge of power and a rumble. Rethen opened his eyes and looked at the crystal decanter sharply as four loud cracks sounded from around him. His eyes grew wide and the last thing he remembered was heat from his right and a wave of Ichor of Disease falling upon him.

The explosion shook the Alchemist's Way to its foundations.

[God]

This RP is locked until Rethen Kel'Sviet exits Cursed Blood.

---

This RP has been unlocked as Cursed Blood has been archived.

[Tino]

He would have watched.

Interested in learning of the alchemist's work as he was, the er hoc had decided to drown himself in the local alchemy archives instead. Resting a tired shoulder against the broad wooden shelves, pages flied in his hands one volume after another. Plague, Plague, Plague.

"Ah. Here we go..." Whispering softly under his breath, he sat there with finally a still book upon his crossed legs. The air in the sun-lit room was quiet as he leaned into that page, the title printed in the bold, graceful script of a prideful Fasemoor scholar---PLAGUEWALKERS. There had been myths and simple facts about them, and the boy's eyes read just as much. After a long, hopeful pause, Tino sighed and let it drop as vague records met an abrupt end. What they needed was more...details. Details that no one has written down anywhere, as far as the eyes could see.

With a small grunt, the boy got up on his feet and slid the last volume neatly back into the shelves. Turning around, he scanned the intricate if not lavish interior of the archives---and there was nothing here that he could use.

So much for that.

Tino took a glance at the tall clock standing in the center of the three-stories complex that ticked a low, calming rhythm. He should go back to the laboratory and make discussions with Rethen on the new progress---whatever he's was going to do with that witch's cauldron he found. And then after the mid-day meal, Tino would roll up his sleeves and do another round of tests on the Plaguewalker venom.

His feet walked the other way, though.

Almost as if under a spell, the er hoc made his way up a flight of stairs to the herbalist archives with no particular plan in mind. The healer had not only studied the Lepudum texts, and so he knew their contents well. Fleeting gaze brushing past titles after titles, he found himself searching for something that he knew was here somewhere. He had caught glimpses of it while researching downstairs. The boy reached up a gloveless hand, touching that book. His fingers felt familiar against the smooth, silky binding.

Picking up the storybook, he found himself reading once again a legend of the golden junne flowers.

And just then the floors would rumble, the walls crumble and the flames would roar. Tino would still put the book back properly regardless of the catastrophe, and then a deadly chill shall grip him when he finally finds out where the explosion had come from.

[Rethen Kel'Sviet]

There was pain.

That really was the only discernible sensation.

Rethen remembered vaguely the explosion and shattering of the large crystal of Ichor. He remembered throwing himself to his right, leaping for the cover anything and finding nothing. And then the wave of sludge slammed into his arm, his face, and his side and he screamed.

And that was the end of feeling. There was just some numbness...some kind of impulse that made him twitch. The elf tried to scream. He tried to move. He tried to claw and squirm and bring any attention to himself. To call for help.

Everything was a haze though. There was no way to really discern if he was accomplishing anything. He could vaguely feel something running down his face, slow and thick and not the scalding liquid of the Ichor. He twitched, another spasm of a painful nature.

Whatever this was...whatever had happened, it was slowly taking hold. He slammed his palm down, feeling a ripple of energy surge around him, forcing him to sit up as the world bent about him. The pain rushed through him, but he could not bring himself to scream. There were things far more startling than the pain.

There, in the crystal of what had been his decanter of Ichor was his reflection. His left arm was burned almost bare and was ripped and shredded by glass, the raw red of the flesh highlighting the green flecks of poison. And near his temple, a gash was hemorrhaging blood. He shakily reached a hand up to touch his face.

And then the Ichor began to run up the rivulets of crimson essence, defying the flow of the liquid and dart inside the alchemist. And only then did he let himself scream.

[Tino]

The heavy pieces of walls were blackened and sizzling, and Tino hesitated involuntarily. Guilt welled up instantly. He could tell this was a different kind of scream than the hoarse roar of an amputation. The boy could not see what was inside, nor did he know if it was safe to find out.

And he was the first one there due to his ability to leap, and that was why he was made a healer. His colleague was in there somewhere, screaming, and guilt ate him alive as he stood there doing nothing.

He knew now how foreign alchemy was to him.

Tino bit back the uncertainty. This was what he was raised for, the boy told himself.

He stepped inside the blackened, shattered lab, the bones of construction hung bare in the eerie fluorescent light of a peculiar green that stained the floors, eating up broken pieces. Concentrating now, he followed that horrid scream to the source of its pain and fear. Rethen was there, bleeding and twitching. He used to be a forest elf.

The er hoc slid on a pair of gloves, knelt, pushed through struggles and turned Rethen's body over. Fear and awe were placed aside as he examined the alchemist's wounds and transformation. The explosion had ruined his arm, but even then this poisonous infection seemed more urgent. Shredding Rethen's already tattered clothing open with a scalpel, he found the neon green spreading still.

He did not know what he ought to have done for he does not know the art of alchemy, and so Malyre's needles were his best guess. Seeking into the pockets on his belt, he stabbed the alchemist's body with needle after needle upon fluorescent green skin. He used as many as he had, tapping them into the specific points on Rethen's body with trained fingers. The healer would use them to stop the circulation in the broken side of that body and wait for other alchemists to arrive.

Then he forced a bottle of plaguewalker antidote down Rethen's throat, for that was all he could do. And Tino hated it.

[Rethen Kel'Sviet]

Rethen stared up at the ceiling blearily. He could vaguely make out shapes and forms. And pin pricks of something distinct, not like the rolling fire of the plague. He tried to squirm, but there was no feeling, no control. Only fire.

A liquid was poured down his throat and he felt the world come into sharper focus. He saw the burned roof, the shattered system of chinas and levers that made up the workshop, and a pair of Er hoc ears peering over him.

Tino. Well, that explained the pinpricks of pain.

"H-how bad is it?" he choked out, doing his best to grin up at his acquaintance. He groaned and lifted his right arm a few inches and peered at it. At least it was still in one piece. The bright green tendrils reaching towards his fingers was more than disconcerting.

"Shit..." the Alchemist whispered, his eyes growing wide. "Tino, what metal are these things you stuck me with?" he asked, panic and fear lacing his voice.

[Tino]

Washing excess mixtures off with the rest of liquid antidote, the healer tried to clean Rethen's arm; though most of the venom was already inside his system, inhabiting the veins now. If this was poison, then the boy doubted if his acquaintance could make it.

Amputating half a person is not the way to go.

Something was different about this venom, though, such as the way it pulsed beneath the feel of his gloved fingers. It was something very...Lamian. An omnious feeling started to grow, and the boy was left to wonder instead what the alchemist had made.

The elf's eyes were coming into focus. As was the practice, Tino put on a vague smile. Normally he would answer something along the lines of "You're fine", but at this point it would be too obvious of a lie.

"The needles are purified moonstones, not metal. My brother made them to be reaction-proof, don't worry." He knew at least that much. The er hoc gave Rethen's good shoulder a casual pat, the other hand pressing a calming weight onto his patient's forehead.

"Tell me how you're feeling." Then biting back his ego for once, the healer added, "And how you want your arm to be treated."

[Rethen Kel'Sviet]

Rethen felt a twitch in his temple and he grimaced. The Ichor was creeping fast. He could not purify himself now. That was far gone. He ground his teeth and reached up his good arm, pointing at a cabinet glistening and perfect in the corner, protected from the blast by a series of runes and spells.

"There isn't much time. I need the bag of blue stones and the vial of silver liquid from that cabinet," the Alchemist choked out, flexing his fingers slowly and feeling the pain of the poisonous tendrils licking their way under his skin. He grinned manically. "Let's play beat the clock with my blood."

He pressed his nails into the palm of his hand, letting out a satisfied grunt as the crimson liquid splashed onto the ground. Quick as he could, his right hand began to draw a series of runes. Stability was placed next to Essence. Harmony and Exchange were placed above them and his newly invented rune for Ichor sat underneath them all.

Around the whole, he sketched the standard symbols for Activation and Containment, all in his own blood. He grinned, adding a few of his own abilities and symbols to make the pattern his own, with his usual flair. And as he finished sketching, he explained his plan to Tino.

"The moonstone is perfect," Rethen mused, his eyes sparkling. "The purification properties can be applied to keep my blood from being completely eaten away. And by placing an Aquis Sapphire on top of each, we can then use the Quickflash Liquid Platinum to create a base for stability." He paused and looked at Tino.

"Assuming it doesn't kill me in the process of course."