Purging Spear [11/05]

[21:08] Windsor says, "Right, then. Show us the damage. Or... give us the goods. Whichever you'd prefer."
[21:08] Ohtli says, "Any of those."
[21:08] Ithaca Blackwater says, "So, those two I need to purify. Then the blood on my spear..."
[21:08] Windsor asks, "These first, then. What's the taint this time -- necromantic energy, chaos...?"
[21:08] Ithaca Blackwater says, "I've got the cosmic to help with the former, but Iosefka suggested some kind of Gehennan blood-purifying ritual for the latter. Which I can't do."
[21:08] Ohtli says, "...That I can do."
[21:08] Ithaca Blackwater asks, "Uh, whatever was in Eidolon. Necomatic cosmic energy?"
[21:09] Windsor says, "Yeah, that sounds about right."
[21:09] Ithaca Blackwater says, "The sphere is from an Eidolon undead I killed."
[21:09] Ohtli says, "She has the piece of Pleiades Cofi took."
[21:09] August asks, "The star that blew up?"
[21:09] Windsor says, "The very same."
[21:09] Ithaca Blackwater says, "Yeah not the other Eidolon."
[21:10] August says, "Ah okay, continue."
[21:10] Windsor says, "I reckon we could get our hands dirty simultaneously. Ithaca and I on the artifacts, Ohtli on the spear."
[21:10] Ohtli says, "Whatever works best."
[21:14] Ithaca very reluctantly takes the spear form her back, like a new mother surrendering a baby to some doctor. However, this baby is different.

While it's kept clean, oiled, and sharp, the blade has been inside demons, vampires, chaos magi, necromancers... the filth of this world. And the arcanium tip, conductive as it is, has taken on some of that horrid mana.

It's not wholly corrupt, but it's clear the spear has begun to take on some of the qualities of the blood it's been drenched in.

It's passed to Ohtli.

"So, yeah. Just need to turn it from 'being corrupted' to reinforcing that it's good at killing the corrupt and foul instead."
(Ithaca Blackwater)
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[21:16] {Item} You picked up Sirius. Dropped by Ithaca Blackwater. .
[21:17] Ithaca puts on her robe and wizard hat.
(Ithaca Blackwater)
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[21:21] The Drakan takes the spear, no less reverent and careful than its wielder. Especially when she feels something awful that infuses the steel. It was not that the weapon's purpose had been impure, but prolonged contact with the corruption that lurked in the world had a habit of clinging where it wasn't wanted.

Case in point? The Ookami's weapon.

"...I will do my best. I'd bet I've seen worse, but it doesn't...it doesn't feel good."

She can think back to a few greater sources of corruption, Eidolon included. The spear should not be more trying than any of them.

"I should have what I need with me. But it's admittedly a little crowded in here to work with a ritual."
(Ohtli)
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[21:21] Windsor had his end of the deal to hold up. The astrologian took the shard of the Undead Formerly Known as Pleiades and the chunk of tainted cosmic energy, parsing both of them with a scrutinizing glare. He adjusts his spectacles, before snapping a bifocal attachment to the top. "...Well, it's obvious both are touched by tainted cosmic mana. The extent, however, is such that it's probably gonna be a two-person job."

Wearing a pair of hard leather gloves, he gently turns the befouled cosmic shard over. "I'm going to siphon the tainted mana away from these things. I've prepared some of these ahead of time." Some spare Wind Shards, drained of their wind aspect, left as empty husks for which cosmic necromantic-aspected energy could enter. "While I'm doing that, you're going to have to respond with input of your own, Ithaca.

"More specifically, you're gonna have to charge these things with your own energy, supplanting the tainted cosmic energy with purer, less... y'know." He wiggles his fingers about to suggest 'bad mojo.' "That kind of stuff." It was an incredibly professional explanation of what was probably an abundantly simple task for them now.

"Tell me when you're ready. We start on my mark." Windsor draws out his astrolabe - it shimmers with cosmic energy, starting to localize entirely onto the objects.
(Windsor)
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[21:25] Ithaca nods at Windsor, "Oh, that's not too tough. I've recently been healing a lot of wounds based in the occult with that. It's a little taxing, but I can pull it off."

And just like that, she begins to call upon the power of her star. The temperature in the room plummets and after a moment or two, the windows begin to frost over. It's not a terrible chill, but it's perhaps uncomfortable if it's not something you were expecting.

She also begins to glow blue, with little glittering snowflakes flying around her. "Well. I'm ready."

And a nod to Ohtli, "And uh, we'll stand back. I want to see how this is done, if you don't mind. Though if we need more space we can always go into the Frontier Co. building. It's right next door."
(Ithaca Blackwater)
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[21:32] The task of purifying the spear falls to her, though she casts occasional glances up to the two cosmic magi. She consults the contents of her pouch and scoots towards the entrance to give them, and her, plenty of room to work with.

"...I can make do," she mumbles as she debates just how to go about the procedure.

Last time she'd embarked on something even remotely similar it had been in the center of Cruxati, a grand affair with several participants. But the corruption that had entered Tlazhotla was something else. Surely, -surely- this wouldn't be the same order of magnitude.

Ohtli starts tune out the environment, all extraneous things. With each breath the world around her seems to grow further removed as if pushed down a long corridor. Everything is still there, but present in a more intangible sense; she can feel more than see or hear the others in the room and, most importantly, the weapon itself.

That dark stain of corruption, a void against the backdrop of the lifestream.

If she objects to spectators there's no balking or roll of her eyes on her part. Dream-like, in a haze, Ohtli takes a sprinkling of something from her hip pouch. All around the spear she makes a circle of some pungent, dried herb to enclose the both herself and the object.

Her breathing is rhythmic and she starts with a low, lilting whistle.
(Ohtli)
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[21:33] "Alrighty, then." Windsor's focus was now singularly upon the artifacts that lay before him - while he put his mind upon Ohtli's ritual for a moment, he acknowledged that they might not be able to witness it here. Either way, he seemed to be well-acclimated to the frost that soon accumulated in the room. Having been raised in colder northern climes afforded certain advantages.

"I'm going to start siphoning it out now. Be careful not to assert your mana into the artifacts until a significant amount of tainted energy is diverted; we don't want to muddle it." Trusting in Ithaca's control over her magic, Windsor engaged his own. The astrological globe that hovered near the tainted relics spun and whirred faster, a tangible 'tether' now manifest between the two of them.

It acted as a conduit through which the cursed energy could move, its output end pointed towards the emptied shards. Windsor shut his eyes and called upon his star; the room suddenly began to dim, spots of it growing light as the visualizations of stars filled the room. It was like a disco ball, except being used as a magical gasoline siphon.

The man lifted gently off of the ground as his focus heightened. Two rituals were now happening at once - and neither apparently threatened the concentration of the other. The emptied crystals on the other side of the table began to pulse and thrum with violet, malevolent-looking energy as the process continued.
(Windsor)
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[21:42] Ithaca is a little distracted by what Ohtli is doing. Could the woman really turn the corruption on her spear into an advantage for it? It was interesting to see, to say the least. They had... differing views on how to solve those problems, so seeing a solution that wasn't 'stab it until it stops hurting people' was novel.

And while the spear itself is immobile, the malice on that spear seems to become just a little more potent. As the room grows dark the shadows dance on the edge of the light in jagged, unnatural patterns.

That spear has helped bring down the wrath sin, Lucilius Grauhimmel. Who was also a part of Eidolon. His tainted mana on that spear and the necromatic shards of Eidolon resonated in a small-scale showing of the long-gone power of that star.

And if you really focus, you might just hear the laughter of the vampire it had slain. The roar of the ocean from the demon who'd commanded it. The shuddering unnatural manifestation of chaos.

It set even Ithaca on edge, her ear and tail fur fluffing up a bit. But thankfully, Windsor's words prove to be a proper distraction for her and her attention turns from him, to Ohtli.

"Right. Wait until they'd got space for this mana." She holds up a hand and her aura flares up a little bit, brighting the room somewhat. Mana begins to gently trickle into the artifacts, just as blood starts to run from her nose over her upper lip. Not from the ritual, just from the stress of drawing so much energy into her.
(Ithaca Blackwater)
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[21:48] Were Windsor's eyes open to witness the quasi-spectacle happening within the cramped workshop, he'd probably be at least somewhat harried from his task. However, it seemed that willfully keeping his eyes screwed shut offered an advantage. That said, he wasn't insensate to the rise of energy that seemed to pour from the tip of Ithaca's spear. While he might not have been transfixed on the weapon as the Drakanite was, he felt a light churn deep in his stomach.

Ignoring the feeling in favor of keeping true to the task at hand, Windsor continued his magical siphon. His hands began to quiver and shake despite himself; drawing out corrupted energy in any capacity was an arduous task, even given his use of the astrolabe as a middle-man. The heavenly instrument in question was vibrating in the air, its golden aura twisting temporarily into a fell purple as much of the necromantic energy was localized in its center.

The physical strain it was startingto put on the man was becoming palpable - and he thought this would have been an easy task. Still, no good job was ever incomplete, and so he'd hold on. The output crystals began to emit a light, cicada-like screech as more energy flowed into them. The violet hue became more distinct, and the crystals themselves practically threatened to burst with the energy placed within.

Given the knuckles on Windsor's fists going white with strain, however, it seemed that possibility was being precluded with effort.
(Windsor)
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[21:54] Everything has a pace, a cadence, a rhythm. Were her concentration any less practiced the ambient flickering of lights and sudden drop in temperature might've been more of an issue. As it stands they're a mild annoyance, but don't seem to be jeopardizing anything. Yet.

As her senses reach out she can feel the mingling presences in the weapon, lingering impressions of the things it had slain. They wash over her and she can feel a flare of pain on the crown of her head. -That- threatens to disrupt her more than the ambient shift in environment.

The whistling continues, followed in short order but a heavy 'thud' as her mythril fist strikes defiantly against breastplate in time to the ethereal tune. Demons and the servants of Chaos had tried to make her bow before- their ghosts will have no better luck than the living ones might have.

As the first barrier is finished a breath of wind sends the dried leaves stirring lazily, tumbling around and around in their circle but never leaving its confines. Ohtli starts a second circle just within the primary one, forming this one of a deliberate sprinkling of bright blue petals.

It's by no means a quick affair. It takes her patience, or focus, and all is meticulously put into place. Chaos is easy to invite in.

When the second circle finishes it joins the first in twisting gently around the ritual site, the wind that carries it no more than an innocuous breeze. She stops the rhythmic thumping and stops her whistling, yet the latter seems to echo on in the twisting air currents. Ohtli needs both hands to roll up the sleeve of her good arm.

While she prepares for the final labor a shadow condenses and congeals along the head of the spear, amassing itself into a corporeal form. It oozes and slides and begins to gather together in a single, writhing mass.

There is power in blood. It's a truth that many of her people have always held close, and the corruption still latent in the weapon is proof of it. It stood to reason then, just like with Tlazhotla, that an answer of blood is what's needed. The Drakan draws a short, sharp knife and drags it along the interior of her arm.

Droplets fall onto the twisting mass of shadows, onto the spear, the ground, onto her, but for some reason or another never make it past the barrier of shifting wings.
(Ohtli)
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[22:05] Ohtli isn't the only one getting a little muscial. Ithaca is a verbal caster, and it manifests for her in the form of song. So she mumbles something under her breath -- lyrics to some unknown song -- and shuts her eyes.

She wasn't about to be outdone by the effort of the couple in the room. As the mana exits the objects they're flooded with the pure mana of her star. The bruise-purple gives way to gentle blue light, the same color as the moon reflecting off freshly fallen snow.

Much like a blood transfusion it replaces the old, stale, corrupted mana and breathes new life into the pieces. What once were corrupted cores of monsters become stalwart pieces of life. They phase from representing the artificial star of Eidolon to instead reflecting the natural order of the cosmos above them.

At the same time, the weapon Ohtli is dealing with begins to find new purpose as it's purified. Years of foul blood wash away under the pressure of the ritual and give new purpose to the metal. The arcanium, divine as it is, begins to understand the nobility of the sacrifice its given, and the deeds of its wielder.

Before long the dark power that'd held sway on the room's objects gives way to purity and nobility. Through the efforts of the three, they're left as positive forces for the world.

Ithaca cracks an eyelid, looking about as the last of her mana finishes tapering into the pieces.

(Ithaca Blackwater)
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[22:12] The purification process was, unlike many things of this nature, successful without a hitch. It wasn't without its enervation, nor its blood, sweat, or tears, but it was complete. Windsor's astrolabe continued to spin and twirl, its concentric rings finally starting to calm in their movements as the last dregs of corrupted mana is swept away from the artifacts and into the crystals.

At this point, the crystals, now laden almost to a point of excess with foul necrmoantic energy, were still fit to burst. Quick with his hands, the astrologian's eyes popped open as he endeavored to bag the shards in a wooden box lined sparsely with Tyrium. He held it with care - just being in the presence of the box was enough to set him at ill ease. "Right. I'll have to dispose of these carefully, but... they'll be disposed of."

At the end of it all, Windsor was drenched in sweat, bleeding mildly from his ears, and looked to have all the sleep drainedout of him in an instant. He seemed alright, otherwise - if any of the previous consequent features could be considered even remotely close to alright. The artifacts sparkled anew with an energy fresh from Ithaca's personal star. They gleamed of the cosmos, of possibilities.

Unlike the box, which now contained in its dim contents the residue of fragments of remains of a legacy best forgotten. Windsor kept it steady in his hands, frowning down at it.
(Windsor)
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[22:18] Ohtli's blessed blood collides with the congealed corruption in a shower of hissing pops. The amalgamation of the essence of all the things Ithaca has slain shrinks and shrivels until it's naught more than a puddle of ichor and fresh red.

And she'll be damned if she's not going to be -doubly- sure the corruption is gone. No shred of this thing will be left to harm another.
The petals and dried leaves, moved by an unseen wind, swiftly converge onto what remains and press down with oppressive, telekinetic force.

Then there is no more stirring, no more wind, no more eerie whistling. The metal of the spear's head shines with a dim, blue glow.

With the ritual over the Drakan returns to more conventional awareness. Sight, sounds, smells, come rushing back and she feels a sudden, reeling dizziness.

She also sees the mess that's been made, albeit contained to a circle, and Windsor bleeding from his ears. Neither are good. Especially not that second one.

"...Are you alright, Starseeker?"
(Ohtli)
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[22:23] By the end of this Ithaca's eyes are bloodshot, and her nose has done a good job of staining her dress. She heaves a sigh of relief at the artifacts, and even manages a rare, genuine, and bright smile at the spear. "Looks better than the day it was made."

Then she looks at Ohtli, then at Windsor.

"Uh, guessing he might have the same thing as me. Pulling that much mana into your body makes some of the more fragile cells pop."

Though she raises an eyebrow, "...Right?" That question is delivered with the intensity of someone who's way too used to medical work, and buckling down to do it if need be.


(Ithaca Blackwater)
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[22:30] The color-drained Windsor manages to shake off his brief loss of focus after having poured as much as he did. He wipes at his ears with a kerchief and nods. "...Yeah, that's about it. I'll be alright - just gotta eat something, rest maybe." As far as his complexion was concerned, he looked closer to the old Windsor: pale, and left unkissed by the sun.

In any case, the astrologian keeps the box nestled under his arm, looking over to the Drakanite and the Ookami. "Right, then. I figure that's a job done. Anything further, Ithaca?" Despite his condition, he manages to piece together enough composure to be about as calm as when he walked into the room in the first place.
(Windsor)
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[22:35] The Drakan hastily wipes off her knife and returns it to her belongings. She's tired herself, bloodied, but looks to the astrologist with far more concern.

"...You both should rest. If that concludes business."

Ohtli still, in spite of that worry, struggles to remain professional.
(Ohtli)
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[22:37] Ithaca laughs a little self-consciously, "Haha... we're all bleeding from different places." She summons a ball of water, and floats it across the room. It lands on Ohtli's arm, and snap-freezes over the wound. When the ice melts, she'll find it much further along in terms of healing than it'd normally be.

"I'd get you Windsor, but I don't think you want ice in your ears. But, there is one more thing. Unrelated to the spear, though thanks for the help."

She wipes her nose on the back of her hand. "Guh."
(Ithaca Blackwater)
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[22:40] "Uh -- yeah, I'll be alright. I'll probably just... plug them up with something or whatever." He glances from side to side shiftily, and soon stops when he realizes he can't quite look at his own ears to see the problem. "It's no problem, of course. It's just the work we've begun to do, that's all." Life as a consultant purifying different things here or there was more interesting than he figured it'd be.

For one thing, it was something he could actually say he had some competence with. "Right. With that business concluded, that should be another bit of Eidolon's history put to a close. I figure with the place itself clean, we can conclusively state that place is done." He wipes himself off, before smirking over at both of them.
(Windsor)
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[22:43] Being a native of the jungles, Ohtli's never honestly -liked- the cold. She shudders and winces as the ice coalesces around her arm. But she probably should be trying not to bleed all over the aritificer's workshop at any rate.

"Like he says. It's part of our job now. Doing what we can," she says, mustering a weary smile.

"Don't think we can ask for much better than seeing a part of it put to good use."
(Ohtli)
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[22:45] "The other thing is... I pissed off some vampires by killing Coraline Invidia. So they're out hunting me a lot. And then Elren got turned into a vampire and went rogue -- long story."

"But he's going around preying on women he used to know. I think I chased him off northward so hopefully he won't be a bother in the near future, but you know. Be safe. I've heard talk the other vamps get as far west as the Summer Waters ruins."
(Ithaca Blackwater)
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