Dust to Dust

Thread Status: Closed
Players involved:Kila, King
Characters involved: Ezio, Altair (Kila), Giriana, Lizair (King)
Setting: The Light Fortress
Time: Current (28th of Haliea) Early Morning
Weather: Cool and clear.
Previous Thread: https://www.antarsia-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=819

Serana ignored the grumbling of her passengers as she flew, heading straight for the top of one of the castle's spires. There was an open balcony just below the top, and she dropped the three there before taking a human form and walking inside. The room inside was a large open space, with a large bed, a desk, an armory's worth of weapons hanging from one wall, and a walk-in closet. There were several doors that led out. Sitting in a chair next to the desk was Lizair. His arms were crossed, and he watched the three with careful eyes. "Sorry about how you came in, but the guards have been overprotective recently."

Giri stumbled to her feet, using Altair as a handhold until she was fully standing. If she still had eyes, she would have glared in Serana's direction, but the dragon ignored her entirely.

In spite of their unceremonious delivery at the claws of Serana, Ezio landed on his feet, as cats often did (regardless of the form he took). Taking a cursory examination of the room he was rather surprised to see so many weapons about. It wasn't something he was so accustomed to seeing in a bedroom, let alone one that belonged to a royal. He took note of each door, wondering where they lead, and determined that should anything go awry their best plan of action would be to depart the way they came: the balcony.

"Mmm," he mused, "it's understandable. One can never be too careful in times of war." He spoke to Lizair, but his eyes were elsewhere, scanning the room for threats. "Is it true you can help Giri?"

Altair, however, was one to tuck and roll in response to his landing, springing back to his feet rather like an acrobat. He was so distracted by the array of weapons that he failed to even notice Giri using him as a handhold. His eyes went so wide they could have popped out of his head, and the boy quickly went to examine the impressive collection. "Whoa, Master Ezio, I think the only collection I've seen that's more impressive is yours." He folded his arms behind his back and leaned close to look at a particularly nice looking axe.

"Is this Dwarven?" He asked with a massive grin, pointing at the blade. "It's totally Dwarven, right? It looks like a Fjorstal original! It's got all the hallmarks of his handiwork!" He was most definitely trying to resist picking it up with every fiber of his being. What he wouldn't give to be able to play with these shiny new toys...

Liz chuckled and held out his hand. "Serana." The dragoness turned into light and shot into his hand, reforming into the shape of a greatsword. "You are welcome to look over my collection. I don't use any of them anyways. Not since I got Serana here." Despite the size of the blade, he swung it around casually, with one hand. After a moment he planted the tip in the floor and used it to help himself stand.

He walked over to the group slowly, using the greatsword like a cane. His movements were still a little shaky, but he seemed calm and confident. "Don't worry...Ezio, is it? I can heal just about anything. Except my own limbs, sadly. None of the healers can figure out how to deal with the demonic magic that infests those wounds. It resists all angel magic." 

He stopped in front of Giri and looked her up and down. "What happened to you...?"

Giri's head dropped, feeling shame welling in her. She slowly reached up and undid her bandages around her face. "Jakroth happened."

Altair’s jaw dropped at such a casual statement. Not use them? How could he not use them!? He threw his hands out in a gesture of complete disbelief, mouth agape like a fool, and looked between the angelic oracle and his amazing collection of weapons.

“How—Why? Why wouldn’t you use these beauties???” And more importantly... “Does look over your collection mean I can, like, touch them and hold them because... I really wanna. Like bad.” The young man was nearly vibrating with anticipation, his dusky gold eyes darting from weapon to weapon.

With the slightest of smiles on his face Ezio gave the softest of chuckles and the most discreet of eye rolls at his son. Though he could hardly blame Altair for his excitement. It was a nice collection, and were he a younger man, and the circumstances different, he too would have shown similar exuberance.

“Forgive him, Lizair. Altair is young and... passionate.” He let his gaze fall on Altair, a gaze full of affection, for the briefest of moments before returning to the matter at hand. The entire reason they had travelled so far.

“I’m afraid she went looking where she hadn’t, and as such was punished by the gods.” His tone was stern. He spoke like an old master, which wasn’t too terribly far from the truth. “Even if you can not restore her sight I truly hope you can ease her pain.” His voice softened, and his expression along with it. “And perhaps my people may be able to ease yours as well. We Sphinx may not be as famous as healers as the angels, but my people have a mastery of light magic. Perhaps our healers can do something yours cannot.”

Lizair smiled at the young man's excitement. "Altair, you are welcome to touch them and swing them around. Somewhere around here is a training dummy, though I can't quite recall where it went. Serana, could you perhaps show him?" He stepped back, sitting down in a chair as he released the blade.

The greatsword pulsed for an instant, then transformed into a tall, dragonic-looking woman. She nodded silently to Liz, then walked over to Altair. "Alright, let me see where he left the target." She started fiddling with a pair of gems on the wall, and after a moment a humanoid figure made of light materialized near the weapons. "Feel free to use any weapons here, just be careful not to break them. As much as Lizair is unconcerned with their condition, someone has to be sensible around here."

Liz rolled his eyes at Serana's words. "Soulbound weapons, huh?" He looked at Ezio for a moment, considering the man's words. "Sphinx healers could be helpful, I suppose. The problem is the dark energy of the demons seeped into the injuries, and it resists the power of holy light that tries to make them heal. I don't know if a Sphinx could get around that issue, but..." he shrugged, not really acting concerned, "could be worth a try."

Liz held out his hand in front of Giri, taking a deep breath and letting his power flow. It was a simple scan of her injuries, trying to get a sense for what was actually wrong, but he recoiled slightly after a moment when his hand suddenly felt hot. "Demons above and below, that's going to be an issue. What I can only assume is Jakroth's power has infested her wounds. Similar to how the demonic power's in mine, actually. Before I can try to fix anything, we need to extract it. Otherwise anything I regrow will simply burn again."

“If they resist holy light...” Ezio brought a hand to his chin in thought as he watched Lizair begin to examine Giri’s wounds. “Then perhaps what you need is someone well versed in dark magic to draw out that darkness. Fortunately for you I know just the man, though he can be a bit... difficult to track down at the best of times. He should still be in Eden, if my memory serves me. We could—“ He was cut off by the oracle’s exclamation.

It seemed this punishment ran far deeper than he had initially thought.

Fortunately he had a solution for this problem on hand.

He extended a hand in the direction of his son, beckoning him fourth with a curl of a finger. “Altair, come here a moment. I have a job for you.”

Altair had been in the midst of jumping for joy, bounding between weapons while he tested their balance and how they felt in his hands. He was nearly cradling a scimitar when he was summoned, and hastily placed the weapon back on its mount. “Coming Master!” He called, and was at Ezio’s side in a blink.

“What do you need?”

“Her wounds are infected with Jackroth’s energy,” said Ezio matter-of-factly. “I need you to draw out his energy. You’re the only one here with such a close connection to fire.” Altair was about to protest, but a raised hand from his master stopped him cold. “I know you can do this.”

Altair began to chuckle nervously, “Haha, yeah, no pressure or anything. Just suck the god of fire’s energy out of an Oracle with no training in this at all. Cool. Cool. What could possibly go wrong?” A bead of sweat ran down the back of his neck as he looked to Giri and Lizair for... for something.

“Are you two on board with this, or...?” Gods he hoped they weren’t.

Liz frowned, having a few concerns about the idea. "I can heal you if you get burnt, but... If this truly is a punishment, I would rather it not be someone the Gods have no interest in who does it." He pondered the situation. "Given that, I will have to assist with the extraction. If Jakroth takes offense, he can't just burn me. I mean he can, but Haliea is prideful and would very likely take a violent offense."

The angel put a hand on Giri's shoulder. "I can make a conduit for the energy to travel through, to connect you to the wound without making you directly touch it."

Giri took a step back. "H-hey, wait. Are you sure this is a good idea? I don't want Altair getting hurt." She held her hands up in a bit of a warding gesture, which was somewhat undercut when she tripped over the side of Liz's bed and fell on her back. "Oof."

Altair held his breath as he watched Ezio think, give a single nod, and say, “That’s a good idea. An added layer of protection is never a bad thing.” The sol’tera finally exhaled and shoved his shaking hands into his pockets. At least now there would be someone between him and the potential wrath of a god! Even if that someone meant incurring the potential wrath of another god, one whom his people also worshipped!

Great!

And Giri was practically falling over herself trying to stop this whole thing—which Altair would have found funny at any other time except for right now. Because he was the only one who could do this.

He reached down to take Giri’s hand as she lay on the floor from her fall. “You should probably not move around so much since you can’t see,” he said awkwardly. “At least until you’re more familiar with your surroundings. I don’t wanna see you get hurt...”

Giri was about to say something else, voice an objection most likely, but Liz was suddenly standing over her and touched his index finger to her forehead. The dragoness went limp and her expression smoothed out. “I’ve put her into a medical coma. She’ll stay asleep until someone wakes her. If we want to do this, though, we should do it now.”

Liz turned to look at Altair. “Are you familiar with collaborative healing? The technique were a group of healers combine power and expertise to treat a more difficult patient?” He held his hand over Giri’s face, and it began to glow faintly. “If not, just push your energy and focus into the healing magic I’m generating.”

Serana frowned in the background, not liking how this was looking. She didn’t want her master to be taking risks right now. Especially not for Giri.

“Collaboration? Yeah I know about it, but healing? Not uh, not exactly my line of work.” Altair scratched his head, his anxiety palpable. And at the pace Lizair was going...

Shit, he’s doing this now. 

“Shit, we’re doing this now?” he exclaimed, rushing to remove the deep charcoal colored gloves from his hands, the backs of which were marked with thick symbols the color of blood. Hastily putting them in his pockets while trying to make sense of the Oracle’s directions, Altair felt more inept and unprepared than he’d ever felt before—and some of those times had been with his pants down taking a leak.

“Okay, no pressure,” he mumbled to himself. Raising his arms straight ahead of himself, Altair focused his energy through Lizair, searching for the lingering traces of Jackroth and his fire that were supposedly within Giri.