Final Log [7/26] Runic Rite

[13:33] Garrick would follow Ardith's lead back to the manor in the dreadwoods with only the lightest of flushes as the accursed smirked at him, head briefly lowered with an instinctive curl of his lips as he his molten eyes held upon the dirt with the barest smidgeon of embarrassment before it was banished by their arrival. Eyes glancing up at the heights of the manse, the drakan would blink steadily once more as Ardith unlocked the door, leading him inside the grand estate for the first time.

Damn, this house was huge! Way bigger than Garrick's house, which was to say no house at all. Perhaps the perspective of homelessness affected his view on things, but the fire drakan was fairly confident that this was a pretty damned big mansion even by the common standards of housing. He was no authority on land reform, so he could hardly accurately commentate.

Led into the depths of Ardith's work space, Garrick would glance about with fascination as his eyes darted between the caged daemon and the paper strewn desk. His hand rose almost reactively to move to pet the creature, having to be held by by his other palm as he shook his head at his silliness. Bad Garrick, no touch.

Dragging a sizable crate Garrick was at least 56% certain was capable of holding up his weight, the fire drakan would take a comfortable seat beside Ardith as he turned his molten glance back up towards her with a toothy grin.

"I've got the best view in the house, it seems."


(Garrick)
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[13:37] She doesn't even have to look up to know what he's doing. She's got a hunch.

"He's called Bitey for a reason," she comments.

"The view's not saying much, since it's between me and those three."

Ardith hitches a thumb towards the cages on the wall. Other than the fruits of her research and machinations, there's not much to speak of at all in this room. A lot of it's scribbled too, even hard to understand and written in esoteric runes.

She is a runescribe, so it makes sense.

"Don't touch anything that you might break. I need this stuff."

And the industrious Accursed sets right to work, treating pages of plain parchment with a tincture in a bottle at her desk. Bits of deep and pale blue crystals float in the mixture of oils she applies to the untreated paper.
(Ardith)
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[13:44] Garrick would flash a wry, toothy grin as he watched Ardith get to work, raising his hands innocently to display that he wasn't accidently setting anything on fire. It was a believable possibility from the magma drakan, even as he'd grown a bit older and more capable at controlling his magma. The last thing he wanted to do was burn down Ardith's home when she'd finally invited him inside.

"Oh, are you part of the petting zoo then? The main attraction just became far more enticing."

The drakan would waggle his eyebrows in a silly manner, deciding the less seriously he took himself this day the better. Garrick watched Ardith scribe away upon her papers with the various oils and crystal residue with genuine fascination, the difference between her craft and his smithing as clear as night and day to him now that he was seeing it in person.

"I'll do my best to avoid touching anything fragile. Though...I don't think anything I want to touch fits the definition."
(Garrick)
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[13:49] She stops her work just long enough to give him another devious smirk again. Her eyes travel up and down him again, but do little else before returning to the task at hand.

"That depends on who's asking," she replies without missing a beat, brushing another layer of oil onto a scroll before setting it aside to dry and cure.

"Anything you want to touch might bite then sounds like. Or worse."

So long as the Drakan remains amusing and non-destructive, he's not unwelcome as she treats the papers with oils. He'd better keep those sneezing fits to himself unless he wants an ass-kicking. All her work is here on that desk, on that chalkboard, and in those cages.
(Ardith)
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[13:59] Garrick's eyes widen just a bit as Ardith responded, chewing upon his lip as he smirked. A sensation of heat trailed through his form at the words, and the drakan's tan just barely concealed the flicker of reddening in his tone. Yet, the drake continued to watch with fascination while actively resisting even the slightest dust particles from entering his nostrils, refusing to allow this time to be ruined by his own bad sinuses.

"And who said a bit of biting was bad? Might have to nibble back in that case though, would feel bad to be all take and no give."

The drakan's hands lay upon the table for now, his molten eyes flicking between admiring Ardith's visage and watching her work away at her scribing like a professional. It was a workshop worthy of a mad scientist, and Garrick could not deny that he found it to be incredibly cool. If he had the kind of coin to have spaces to research like this, the drakan might never see the light of day.

"What kinda experiments do ya do with the caged ones?"
(Garrick)
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[14:02] Ardith puts the last of the lacquered sheets away and leaves the table, a little twitch of her tail as she puts her back towards Garrick. She crouches by one of the cages where the sleeping 'Bitey' is currently curled up in a corner.

No reason to fear this one. Not for her. The demons at least understood that she was the one that brought them food and sustenance.

"The particulars'd probably go over your head. But I'm trying to talk to them. The way demons do. You ever talked to one of the older ones, Garr? The ones that don't talk out loud? They speak to your head instead."
(Ardith)
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[14:12] Garrick would remain in his seat for a few moments as Ardith rose with a swish of her tail, molten eyes admiring the view as his jaw dropped once more before he forced it shut with his free hand. In spite of the jungle's general humidity, it felt as if it had all of the sudden gotten a lot more hot in here. The drakan mentally blamed it on the insulation keeping all the heat inside, but he frankly didn't believe himself. Rising slowly as his eyes slowly....rose, he'd pace forward beside Ardith to gaze into Bitey's cage with curiosity.

"I haven't had the pleasure, though I've heard in stories of those capable of speaking with only their mind. Heard that ancient dragons grew so big, their voices would damage their followers eardrums, so they spoke through thought."

Glancing between Bitey and Ardith as his toothy grin turned up at the corner of his mouth, Garrick's arms would hang aimlessly before his person, almost as if he wasn't quite sure where he was supposed to put them. He usually felt pretty smooth, but something about Ardith just...took him apart.

"That makes sense then. If they've got any kind of brain activity, speaking directly into their heads would certainly bridge the language barrier. Assuming they're clever enough, could stimulate their growth mentally without having to make silly baby noises at them."
(Garrick)
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[14:18] Garrick only gets a cursory glance as he sidles up beside the cage. The demon looks almost peaceful and less horrendous when it's sleeping. The older they get it seems the more they need. Bitey won't be down for long, still a juvenile and far from his peak. A peak he might not even ever reach, honestly.

"Never heard of that. But Lord Illaron doesn't speak out loud. All the other Kaor can do it too. The 'Megas' and above are all able.

"These guys here have some sentience. More than the daemons, but still not a whole hell of a lot. They can understand basic things though, simple commands. Ark's shown me before. Hell, it's how they got into these cages."

The old nature Kaor had been a true boon in that regard.

"Think I've finally got what I need now though..."

Ardith rises, paces back over to her desk, and shuffles through some notes. Garrick's gawping can wait. She pulls free the gemstone that she'd pilfered from the old Illyothian ruins.
(Ardith)
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[14:26] Garrick would stare at the cage for a time in curiosity even as Ardith paced back towards the desk, molten eyes glancing with curiosity towards Bitey as he resisted the urge with incredible willpower to try and pet the sleeping daemon. The compulsion to do so was as immense as it was dangerous, and the brief image of the drakan with a metal hand appearing in his mind caused the fire drake to briefly wince.

No, no, bad idea. Bad. Stop.

Slowly backing away from the cage until he was sure he wasn't going to lunge forth and try to do a whole pet, Garrick would slowly make his way back towards the desk, taking his comfortable seat on the crate beside Ardith as he hummed to himself in contemplation. She'd dropped a lot of information on him in a very short period of time, and it was certainly a volume to process.

"So all sorts of demons possess the capability to speak with their mind? Wouldn't your throat get dry if you spent all your time talking with your mind instead of your mouth? Do demons get parched throats?"

Garrick would slap himself in the face for his silly questions. Ardith was trying to do work, and him yammering nonsense was going to distract her. The fire drakan would flash is toothy smile lightly as his eyes glanced upon the accursed's work with interest.

"So you think that dark gem of yours is the catalyst for your ambition? The...stepping stone to your demonic potential?"
(Garrick)
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[14:31] The occultist, no surprise, rolls her eyes at Garrick's inane line of queries.

"You just proved everyone wrong who said the words 'there are no stupid questions', Garr. Good job."

She goes back to sorting through the piles upon piles of notes, picking out different sheaves of paper and adding them all to a singular stack.

"If my research is right? Yes. This should be the last thing I need. I'm sure this might come as a shock to you, lizard brain, but I'm not all that human anymore."

To her it's wholly obvious. Who knows with the delinquent Drakan if it is or not.

"And it follows that, if my mutations are demonic, that I can do some of the things that they can do. I just need something to give me a little...y'know. Jump start."

The papers, a large pot of ink, and the gemstone in her clutches, she paces to the empty space in the center of the 'laboratory'.

"Illyothian's a long time ago had runes for sharing energies, or transferring power. Thing is, I don't think it'd work to transfer it to someone that's not demonic. Or even partly. Like, you can't just slap a demon's arm on a regular person and expect it to work."

Oh...there's an idea for another time. But she's got to keep following her train of thought.

"So the idea is I lay down some runes, transfer what's in this gemstone to me, and I'll be able to speak like they do."


(Ardith)
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[14:46] Garrick would bark out in amused laughter as Ardith roasted his inquiries utterly, rising from his makeshift seat as an amused grin spread wholly across his face. The smile seemed to reach his eyes, which flickered idly with a glowing light as his gaze returned to Ardith once more. bowing his head in defeat.

"Thank you, thank you. I know, I possess immense talent. Hold your applause. I'm pretty clueless on the minutia of demonology, but that's why I have Professor Ardith spoiling me with her natural wit."

Garrick would raise an eyebrow at the mention of Ardith not being wholly human anymore, his toothy smile quirking upwards just a bit.

"You don't say, here I thought you'd just been putting on a new perfume. Whatever you're becoming, I like it, or I wouldn't be here looking foolish for you."

The fire drakan would nod withgenuine curiosity as Ardith layed out the rest of her intentions with the gem, humming with interest as his molten gaze flickered between her visage and the practical crown jewel. Laid out all like that, yeah, it made a lot more sense to Garrick, and his smile retained its warmth as he whistled, clearly impressed.

"That all adds up. So transferring the concentrated dark energy within this gem into your person would allow you to manifest more demonic potential, and in theory then begin to manifest your capabilities to speak as they do through the mind alone. If it works, you've got proof that you can become more like a demon, much as I strive to become like a dragon. Well shit, now I'm interested.
(Garrick)
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[14:52] "I'm still not sure exactly what you're after here exactly."

It's a short list of what people typically want though. It's probably on that list. She doesn't let Garrick's antics distract her too much as she tugs off her gloves. Her hands are pale, which is expected given the frequency with which she wears them.

More importantly is the stunning, rune-etched ring on her non-dominant hand. She won't risk having the glove block some of the process. The mutations gifted to her by the Archon's jewel will be a catalyst for the rest of what she intends.

Crouching down she begins to draw runes in a wide circle, one by one. Great, jagged Illyothian designs that make a ring around where she's knelt on the stone.

"If you mess up these lines, by the way, I'm kicking you out," she forewarns the brutish Drakan. His clumsiness will not be in her way today. Nothing will.

"Demons've done more for me than anything else on this stupid rock. They've got the power. Hadn't been for the Spires too, chances are they'd still be ruling this place."
(Ardith)
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[15:09] Garrick would shrug his shoulders lightly as he offered Ardith a sharp toothed smile, crossing his scaly smith arms over the adamantite of his breastplate with an idle hum. The fire drakan wasn't built for being coy, and he was a known terrible liar. There was no point in being dishonest with Ardith when she already read him like an open book.

"Once, I would have said my desires were entirely carnal. I'd make a coy comment about your body, waggle my eyebrows, say something obnoxiously witty. But you're more than a body....always have been, even if I was too thick skulled to see it at first."

Garrick would scratch the back of his neck as he glanced with a bit of wonder at Ardith's finally revealed hands, at the masterwork of a ring that adorned her finger with expert craftsmanship. As a smith, there were few things the drake admired more than a beautiful piece of work.

"Your razor wit tears my nonsense to shreds, your laugh makes me feel warm. And your company makes me happy. I'm not one for ulterior motives, so judge me as you will."

The drakan would release his breath, seemingly content to have spoken honestly even if he suspected Ardith would laugh at him for it. There were worse fates.

"Consider the lines off limits. Gotcha. And if it was demons that made you the impressive woman you are, I owe them a debt I doubt I can ever pay. I don't want to imagine a life where I never met you Ardith. It makes me...sad."
(Garrick)
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[15:17] She's not sure which is worse. Entirely carnal, or otherwise. Ardith endeavors to not give it too much thought. Otherwise her work will be ruined. The occultist cannot abide by that. This is a few years of research worth of work after all.

"Razor wit, huh? That's new," she scoffs.

"Look. I'll tell you what I tell pretty much anyone. I'm not looking to be owned. Keep that in mind, Garr."

A few had referred to her with 'my's and 'mines', and each time it makes her belly squirm in odd ways. Even for the ones she tolerates such talk from.

Her fingers paint another particularly jagged rune on the cold stone floor. She even checks to make sure it matches the one on the masterfully crafted ring on her finger. All things must be in place. It's all got to be perfect.

"You're a weird one. Why ain't you go sit down on the crate again for me. I don't want your big feet mucking up my lines here."

If he manages that she might actually have to try to kill him in a fit of fury. His praise and his antics can come later.
(Ardith)
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[15:27] Garrick would flash his toothy grin as he paced back against the desk without another thought, leaning against it comfortably as he crossed his bulky arms over the adamantite scales that adorned his chest. Ardith's stance wasn't new to the drakan; he wasn't bothered in the slightest by Ardith's aspirations of independence. In fact, it was exactly that which he found so interesting.

"We've spoken on the matter, and you've heard my part. You aren't an object to be owned, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

The drakan would glance over at the careful work of the accursed with curiosity as ever, but made sure he was distant enough that his presence would distract her while she tried to focus. The last thing he desired was to end up food for Bitey, it did not seem like a pleasant way to go out.

"I apologize if I'm distracting you, it wasn't my intention."
(Garrick)
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[15:41] No matter how often she tells this to people, no matter how obvious or apparent it is, she makes it clear. And still she has the feeling that someone, some day, is going to be disappointed by this.

Unfortunate for them, really.

Back to the matter at hand, the one that loomed far more important in her mind as she finished the series of runes on the circle. She's enclosed now in a circle of ink on all sides. Her within and the rest of the world without.

From her pocket she retrieves the treasured prize. Ardith draws one final sigil on the interior of the circle just in front of her and places the gemstone on top of it. Perhaps it's magic, perhaps a trick of the light, but the purple stone glitters expectantly.

All is quiet, the world inside the lab holding its breath. Nothing moves on her desks, the demons asleep in their cages. Even Garrick's stopped his chattering for a few blessed seconds of silence.

She begins with low chanting, noises in a foreign, long buried tongue; they make her aura swell like a billowing cloak behind her. Were there anything living in near proximity it might have been problematic. For the living thing. Not her. She's so consumed by the runic rite she's beyond caring.

This is another stepping stone in her ravenous pursuit. Her chanting continues, rising in pitch. The runes around the edge glow in sequence as they're suffused with energy from the gemstone. Like a gauge the outer ring fills with pallid light.

The stone is meant for the kin of demons though, for the Illyothians and their brood of which she's only a small, severed part. The energy flows from stone, to runes, then towards the guiding beacon of the ring at the center. Like calls to like. For her the process is both agonizing and electrifying.

Not too unlike when she'd first donned the pacting ring itself, pleasure and pain mix until they're nigh inseparable. Her shoulders hunch, her teeth grit, and she bares the weight of evolution's price.
(Ardith)

[15:58] Garrick would maintain his silence as he allowed Ardith to proceed with her work, maintaining his cozy seat upon the wooden box with a single fist pressed up against his chin as his molten eyes held upon Ardith's form. There were far worse pastimes than getting to watch a beautiful women commit a dread occult ritual for power. He could definitely cross it off his bucket list.

As Ardith removed the dark gem and marked and ensigiled it, Garrick's eyes glowed with interest as the object of power appeared to glow in response. The drake spoke not a word, keeping quiet as he slowly dredged his notebook from the inner seam of his leather vest. Poking a single clawed digit into his own vial of very much non-magical ink, the drake would begin to sketch the scene as he watched with careful interest as the ritual progressed.

As the dark shroud emanated Ardith while she chanted an unfamiliar language, Garrick continued to watch with admiration as Ardith manifested such power! Scribbling the waves of occult around the rough, horned visage he'd sketched upon the parchment, the drakan would watch with interest and just a bit of worry as Ardith seemed to experience an undeterminable burden from the energies within the stone.

If anyone could take it, it was her.

As at last Ardith's shoulders hunched, Garrick would raise an eyebrow with concern as he maintained his seat upon the crate, marking the final details upon his sketch as he tucked the journal away without a thought. He considered saying something, trying to get Ardith's attention, but perhaps spending so much time around the accursed had given him a better gauge of what not to do.

He maintained his seat, his molten eyes held upon Ardith's form with care for whatever came next. She just soaked up a whole lotta darkness.
(Garrick)
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[16:01] Ardith has no choice but to take in the additional energy. Take it in, overcome it, or let it rip her apart. Again, not unlike the pacting process. Funny how that works.

Her body shudders, her flesh ripples, and her circuits and physical form alike attempt to process what's been drawn in from the Illyothian stone.

There's a certain brightness to her eyes, an intensity, as she stands on shaky hooves and turns towards one of the nearby cages. Her hand outstretches, but outwardly she says nothing. Instead she thinks a single, clear word aloud:

'Awaken.'

The demon within the nearest cage, previously asleep, begins to stir groggily.
(Ardith)
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[16:08] Garrick would do his best not to worry as he saw Ardith's flesh quite literally ripple at the presence of the occultic concentration of energy, chewing upon his lip in mild concern as he reminded himself that Ardith was the professional here. If she thought she could handle it, it was the drakan's job to believe entirely in her capabilities.

He would not insult her by pretending he could help her.

Yet, as Ardith began to stand with a bit of shakiness, yet clearly with life, the fire drakan released a sigh of relief to see that she was intact. Garrick rather liked Ardith all in one piece, and the thought of her being splattered into occultic giblets about the room while the drakan was locked in her mansion did not seem like an appealing thought.

Blinking as he watched her gesture silently towards a nearby cage, the drakan's grin widened sharply as he saw the daemon begin to stir of what appeared, at least on the outside, of its own volition. Either Ardith's death stare game was on fucking point, or she'd succeeded in her ambition entirely!

Resisting the urge to clap in excitement, Garrick would maintain his molten gaze upon her form with a brief flick back and forth between the cage and the accursed, delighted with the display and that Ardith was alright.
(Garrick)
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[16:12] Ardith makes her way over to the cage step by step, regaining some of the feeling properly in her legs. She has to crouch again, the demon so much closer to the ground, and offers out her hand.

Another little test.

Bitey, as such he's been belovedly nicknamed, skulks up towards her edge of the enclosure and seems to wait.

Either he's finally recognized her as a giver of food rather than a food source, or he recognizes her as something closer to kin.

An improvement either way.

"Good...good."
(Ardith)