Purging the Chieftain [11/25]

16:56] "Yes, this is going to hurt a great deal." For himself, or his obsession? Still uncertain, but his time spent with the seed needed to come to an abrupt, and sudden end. Perhaps, those closest to the Quetzal noticed the shift in demeanor-

From loyalty, to a life of infidelity and sin. From a struggle to be redeemable, to falling into another path of selfishness. As much as he tried to ignore it, and justified his reasons for letting this monstrous object linger.

Enough is enough.

I'd rather do this of my own accord.

Removing his shirt, the Queztal's upper frame is unveiled. Thick, gnarled vines sprouted from his chest. Adorning something akin to scaled bark on his shoulders, and biceps, it blends into scales of gold upon his forearms and claws.

Flowers decorate his menacing abs.

"...it is good you have this mask, as this is the tricky part." Vines of green slither down either arm, curling around his wrist. To his left, and to his right, they shoot into the ground, snaking their way beyond the cobblestone, and into the soils.

"The seed should be two inches bellow my neck. You will have to be swift when removing it, because these plants will heal me- ah...well. The moment you make an incision. I'd assume it could be pulled, with enough force, gravity magic and all, but there is also a chance that it will bloom- soon as you touch it.

Ahh...

I am going to hate this."
(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)
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[16:57] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "May I dismiss your tribesman? I did not want...an audience."
[17:00] The Drakan begins to unwind the rough-spun cloth from the parcel in the crook of her arm. It is, indeed, the mask in question. It's already aglow with latent power, with a will of veritable will of its own, as if it could sense not one, but two potential sources nearby that were in need of being taken care of. Cleansed. Bolstered. As was the Serpent's will.

"Particularly since I am still getting used to this. And...the one behind me is already wary of this."

But this is what she'd crafted it for. To cleanse corruption, for the betterment of Agartha, her people, and to perpetuate the will of the Serpent. She's equally hesitant but eager.

"How deep below the flesh. I am no doctor, but I will take care."
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[17:00] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "And if Nep's experience is anything to go by...Yes. Yes, it will hurt. I am sorry."
[17:04] Windsor wasn't one to come in unprepared, himself. Though fresh from several scrapes and battles, he had time to prepare himself physically and mentally for what was sure to be a straining experience. The astrolabe hovering near him shone new with a fresh glint, the colors of the cosmos radiating freely from its surface. "You can at least expect precision from my end of the job. I've been studying up on manipulating the more particular aspects of gravity magic."

Most of it involved surgical strikes of finely-targeted destruction, sure, but there were some points at which he could actually use delicacy. Putting his fingers in 'portrait' formation before himself, he looked squarely at the menacing Quetzal with his menacing abs, focusing deeply at the point in his chest. The vines that embedded him were precarious things indeed.

With a visually-impaired hawk's eye, he honed in on the spot at Xiuhcoatl's neck, not even bothering to look in Ohtli's direction to inform her of his readiness. "I move at your signal, Caretaker," he murmured, before the air around him swelled with magical force. Though he wasn't extending his gravitational will yet, the atmosphere around him was fairly palpable with pressure.

"I'll try to make sure this is as painless as possible, Xiuhcoatl. Anything to make you hate this less, I suppose." A touch of levity for what was going to be a struggle, for sure.
(Windsor)
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[17:05] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "If you are willing, please dismiss the boy. Then we will begin..."
[17:09] "It's in the dermis, so whatever you do, I'm going to bleed. It will hurt, but all is well.

I suppose I should prefer it this way."

To Ohtli's request, he nods only once, twice. "While I don't personally mind, I suppose you should depart, Nepo. Best to adhere to my surgeons will, yes?" There is a gentile tug to the vines keeping himself bound; pulling on the expended life created by The Fifth Iosefkan Artifact.

"Ah, well, If you have to sacrifice my comfort for stability and success, so be it. I doubt this well be as unpleasant as getting deep fried by an angel."

Terrible, terrible times.


(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)
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[17:10] Nepotietl would give a few nods and a distant stare with concern before leaving.
(Nepotietl Kumo)
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[17:10] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "Thank you, Chieftain. It frightened him once. I don't want to give him more cause to fear me...but maybe it would be more constructive."
[17:14] Xiuhcoatl Lelhua says, "He- ah. Well. "
[17:14] Xiuhcoatl Lelhua says, "..is troubled."
[17:14] Xiuhcoatl Lelhua says, "Envy curse, and all."
[17:14] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "Yes...I can tell that much. I had driven out the worst. Perhaps some remained. Your mother called me here after he was injured."
[17:14] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "But we can go over the fine details...After."
[17:14] A wan smile is cast the astrolgist's way as he attempts to add a lighter note to what will surely be a difficult task. With the mask unveiled it feels natural to set it back into place on her head, and only for the second time since its creation. She has been careful with its applications.

For good reason.

It seats itself on her head and drapes down her shoulders as if it were meant to be there, perfectly natural and not at all a mask. It covers the upper part of her face, concealing her eyes behind two lenses of polished, sparkling spirit crystals.

The change is not immediate, but nor is it slow. Scales spread up her forearms and short, bristling blue feathers sprout between where they connect. Her long nails extend further and harden.

Thanks to the aid of the mask she can see it, lending her precision she might've not otherwise had. She can see Sibri's seed within him and the infectious miasma it exudes.

"Starseeker,"she calls to her partner at a growl. Ohtli lifts the hand with its lengthened claws and flexes them. "Hold him."
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[17:18] "Right. I don't need to tell you to hold still, Xiuh, since..." While his hands were held out, the roots that served as binding plainly showed themselves as useful for the task. However, this was going to need a delicate touch. Too much gravitational focus and he was liable to make the man collapse - too little and he was surely going to break out of the bond by virtue of the sheer excruciation.

At least... that's what Windsor was assuming. That it'd be horrifically painful - things like these never did shake out like a routine tooth removal. Not that tooth removals were particularly painless either.

"Steel yourself." That was the best warning Windsor could offer before letting a column of compressing gravity wash over Xiuhcoatl, all but binding him to the vine constriction that held him. The force came together as if it was embedding him to the floor, as if his wings themselves grew to become a burden.

It was enough energy for one to struggle against, perhaps even to writhe, but not so little as to be broken. In effect, it'd take a lot of effort for the man to try and break these gravitational manacles. It was serviceable, to say the least.
(Windsor)
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[17:28] It's fortunate that the will of the mask- the will of the Serpent- and hers coincide. She can hold it at bay just long enough for Windsor to do his work with his ever-effective gravity magic. Once he's tethered her wings fan open and help drive her forward right to the chief in a single beat.

Those claws come in handy. They're excellent for slicing, cutting, in all probability through vine and limb alike. The less painful she can make this for the Chieftain the better, but at the end of it...there is no avoiding pain entirely. He had left the seed to take root. This was part of his penance.

That didn't keep her from feeling regret as her talons lashed forward to grab ahold of the seed. If it's taken it no doubt brings pieces of vine and flesh along with it.

The trouble was prying it free quickly, efficiently, and before it could do further harm to the host. Once it was free she could deal with cleansing the corruption on the source. Step by step. These things couldn't be done all at once.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[17:38] Immense unseen weight.

At least, this is what it feels like. Teeth clenched shut, as a strained grunt spills from his lips. At first, there is no struggle, only acceptance. He'd made a decision, he'd gotten what he wanted, and the moment he became aware of the seeds influence.

It's removal became desired.

"Gah-!" Soon as the talon pieces his flesh, he writhes on instinct. Heart pounding, a surge of adrenaline washes over him. There was a distinct feeling of regret, for failing to use a lax potion prior, but of course..

He had his reasons for refraining.

Soon as she grabs the seed, it takes an absurd amount of effort to keep his own vines at bay. They wiggle and writhe, aiming to repair their host, be even if just for a moment, they remain locked in place. He snarls, groans, and struggles, but the seed begins to sprout as she pulls.

This piece of Sibri is no longer embedded in his chest, but it attempts to cling hold of his armor, his vines, the Pledge of Gaia.

Just barely falling short of affixing itself to Leland, again.

Still, a certain glow within his eyes begins to fade, and his eyelids fall shut.
(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)
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[17:39] Xiuhcoatl fails at html but he needs to know how to do baby bitch basic coding when you have menacing abs.
(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)
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[17:40] Xiuhcoatl ...*who, fuck grammer, as well. Only biceps are needed.
(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)
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[17:44] Windsor's task soon finds itself a twofold effort. His eyes spy the vines as they conspire to undo their efforts. They served to bind and repair Xiuhcoatl, it was true, but Windsor came prepared... after a fashion. This required more improvisational work from his part, but he wasn't like to shy away from that challenge. Seeing the vines surge on after the seed - and the seed to the vines, the man makes precautions to keep them apart.

The astrolabe hovering at the man's side chimes and hums, before a localized and persuasively repulsive force is sent towards the vines. Having to consciously conjure up gravity on two different things was a wheelhouse heretofore unexplored by Windsor, but it was important to think fast.

The resultant strain, however, caused the man to groan under the stress. The seed absolutely had to be extricated from the man - no ifs, no buts. Under that single-minded goal, Windsor treated the vines as the extension of the Lelhua that they were. "I'll keep him steady - just do your work, Caretaker." His voice trembled as he spoke; thinking with gravity in this sense was like to give him a nosebleed.
(Windsor)
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[17:56] Claws plunge into the Chieftain's flesh, tearing free the seed and wrenching it out of its host. A spurt of blood, the slithering of vines, and the seed struggles to remain a part of the Lelhua.

Thanks to the astrologist's work on not one, but -two- fronts there are far fewer vines to contend with. With a challenging roar she wrenches the corrupted seed free of the others amidst twisting snaps.

To her its aura is visible, a twisting mass of corruption from Sibri himself. It takes form in her clutches like the twisting eel of Envy that had been in the Nagual boy. Her presence, her attunement with Order, draws out its true shape.

From the seed dark, grasping vines extend like reaching roots, attempting to dig into whatever they can reach and gain nutrients from. In this case, a host. The scales on her palm give it no purchase.

Swiftly her hand closes around the kernel of Chaos. Ohtli clamps down as tightly as she can muster. Her teeth clench and she snarls painfully. From between her fingers oozes a sickening, sizzling goop that patters to the stone floor of the temple. Wherever it strikes it leaves a dark stain before beginning to evaporate into thin tendrils of smog.

It was free. Now it had to be contained. She will not risk it plaguing another. She -can't-.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[18:07] With Windsor's interference, his own strain becomes considerably lessened, able to focus less on the vines, and more upon the feeling within his gut. This seed had grown, nurtured within his body, constantly pushing him to give to chaos: embracing winter.

Ignored, time and time again, despite hardly being an altruistic person.

Silence is embraced, as she takes the wretched thing from within his chest. Cold, shivering, fighting against his natural impulses. Feeling the spurt of crimson, he does nothing to mend the wound. It's known that his armor would fix it for him, so for now?

He refrains from struggling against the forces that keep him bound, falling back, crashing onto wings of gold.

No attempts to stop Ohtli from containing the corruption, as he simply lies there and embraces his fate. Expecting many dreaded thoughts to come to an end, reclaiming the capability of thinking rationally.

These expectations fall flat.

Obsession still remains. A mental image of Lysti's head upon a pike remains imbedded in his mind, confused as to why. It wasn't reasonable, it wasn't rational, it didn't make sense.

..yet, he'd grown to love this feeling of uncertainty.


(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)
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[18:19] While the seed can't take root in her hand it is still painful as the roots scrape and scratch futilely. It is still her anathema, just as she is to it. The more they try to dig in the harder she clenches down on it. The goop continues to ooze through the cracks between her fingers. Her feathers and the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Finally it is gone. The liquified corruption dies down to a trickle. When she opens her hand, parting back the claws, a single seed is left. No longer does it run the risk of tempting another or twisting them. It now twinkles faintly with a new mien entirely.

Ohtli growls pensively and the feathers of the cowl glisten. The Order Magi shudders and turns her stare anew back to the Chieftain. His prostrate, injured form is treated with spectral scrutiny. It had happened with the Nagual boy, the sin hadn't been driven out. If any corruption lingers she is compelled to snuff it out, to complete her task. The Serpent willhave no less; the Spirits will not tolerate a job half done.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[18:24] Windsor could only be sure that his part of the job was done once the seed was destroyed, and the threat of continued corruption quelled. By the sound of Ohtli's growl and her pointed observation, their work wasn't sure to be done just yet. Thus the oppressive push of gravity remained focused on the Chieftain - if somewhat weakened - to ensure that there'd be no further struggling were there to be some trace of corruption left behind for the significantly serpentlike Drakanite to snuff out.

The ooze is kept much further away than arm's length - he didn't trust it by its presence, even as it ebbed and evaporated.

Without needing to probe the vines further, he only kept the column of gravity down on the man, floating forward towards the downed Drakan to make his task easier.

Curious, he chances a glance in Ohtli's direction - or whatever it was she was now, sizing her up with a lingering stare.
(Windsor)
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[18:48] She could feel, possibly even see darkened little wisps around the drak. Remnants of the corruption created when tearing into the lifestream, other wise? The seed is gone, and it's chaotic influence is all but dead.

Only psychological damage remains.

For now. Tm.
(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)
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[18:52] Those little wisps don't escape her notice. They are not a part of him, and they are not an immediate issue, and yet...

The Drakan's claws flex, clenching and unclenching around the newly cleansed seed.

"Mind your rifts," she growls, a warning she feels compelled to give. "Rest. I have done my work."

Ohtli's head swivels and she regards Windsor now through the lenses.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[18:54] Windsor turns back to face the Drakanite, offering the masked woman a nod. "...Yeah. Resting is about as much as you can do right now."
(Windsor)
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[18:54] Xiuhcoatl dies.
(Xiuhcoatl Lelhua)
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[18:57] Ohtli turns to leave and let the Chieftain rest...hopefully not on the floor. Probably not on the floor.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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