[La Clinique] The Nightmare on Premiere Boulevard (Quilantes, Private)

[Crimson]

Continued from here ...

The wood elf chuckled. "Master Gerard is my master, Quill. I am Jean-Jacques." He gave a slight nod of his head in introduction. "Regarding the Longest Winter", the elf continued, "the city was hit particularly hard. You do not know how difficult winters can be in the Carmelyn. It was even more worst when it remained for an era." He sighed. "But we are a strong people. Most of the sick are the young or the old." He waved at the rooms as they passed. And indeed, the Half-Esh would note that.

At Quilantes' last remark, the Wood Elf nodded in understanding. "We have a few in critical condition. My master is a herbalist and a druid, but neither his spells nor his potions seem to work on a few. He has only managed to relieve their pain. Come." Weaving through a few more narrow halls, Quilantes and Jean-Jacques eventually arrived in a room that smelled vaguely of vinegar, foreign spice, and minty herbs.

On the bed was an older human woman. She had gray hair, a weary face, and she seemed to be in a distressful slumber. She moaned and seemed restless even in sleep. "At first we thought it a fever", Jean said, "but when our salves reduced the fever, this persisted: she could not find sleep. We give her a tonic, but ... it's almost as if sleep evades her. She grows more weary each time she wakes. We fear the worst."

[Quilantes Zil'aven]

oocFrom the title and the symptoms, I'm going to assume that Dreamwalking may play a part in this thread. As awesome as that is, I think we'll need to slow down/pause with posting until I know that the concepts of my write-up are more or less approved before I begin employing them in a training thread :)

Quill knelt down before the bed and watched the lady move restlessly as her eyes flickered. It was odd, he had seen and heard of much about lack of sleep as a Dreamwalker, but this was the first time it had been presented to him as a medical condition.
"Do you know of any arcanic interference that may have caused this? A curse, perhaps? Some spell of mysticism? I don't know enough of anatomy to be aware of a drug or injury that causes insomnia, but could either of those be at fault here?" he enquired to Jean-Jaques, careful to keep his voice to a murmer so as not to disturb the patient.

"I'll inspect her in clara first, see if I can detect any hostile magicks at work. I'm not sure if a healing spell is what she needs, and I want to make sure that it will be of use to her. My stamina only allows me two or three spells a day, I'm afraid" he said, before closing his eyes and allowing his breath to slow as he took the whitewood wand given to him by Master Schwartz out of his coat pocket. Once he had attained clara, Quill closely inspected the lady's body for any sort of magical weave, focusing closely on her heart and mind. If indeed it was a mystical hex at work, he suspected he would sense it there. And if it turned out there was nothing to see, then he could always try...alternative methods. He just needed a piece of chalk and somewhere to lie down.
I don't like this... Michaelian warned Quill as a voice in his mind, it looks like the work of a Twisted.
I know, I'm hoping it isn't... Quill thought in reply, before speaking aloud as he concentrated on maintaining clara.
"I know this may seem an odd question, but does the lady complain of chronic nightmares? To the extent that they prevent her from resting?"

[Crimson]

"No, she complains of discomfort", a man's voice came from behind the two elves.

Entering the room was a light-footed older gentleman with a wizened smile and bright eyes. His features were largely hidden by long, shoulder-length white hair and a full beard. The ancient human still stood tall despite his age, a miracle if one did not consider Monsieur Gerard's penchant for cures. He inclined his head in greeting, and Jean-Jacques bowed in turn.

"Her name is Anna", Gerard continued, "no nightmares, but I believe she has been exposed to Mysticism." When Quilantes procured his wand of Arcana, Jean-Jacques took a few uneasy steps backward. The Wood Elf was clearly more inclined to the traditional forms of healing without magical intervention. But more and more, he was seeing the advantages to Thaumaturgy and Druidism.

Some ten minutes later, Quilantes detected strands, or weaves, of Arcana lingering near Anna's mind. It was not any kind of active spell, not from what the Thaumaturge could tell. As if reading his mind, Gerard cleared his throat. "I already attempted to dispel any spells on her person", he offered, "but my Druidism is not as potent as Life Magic."

[Quilantes Zil'aven]

No nightmares means we're in the clear, he thought to himself.
Ask her when she awakens, just in case.
So intent was his inspection of the patient, that he didn't register that the voice was of someone new. He just gave a slight nod of acknowledgement at he watched the patient with his inner eye of clara. The vis that made up everything in the world shimmered as faint weaves in the air. The lady's body looked as though it was wrapped in a fine, silvery mesh that matched the contours of her body perfectly. In clara, arcanic energies showed up as bright colours to Quill. His own sphere, thaumaturgy, shone as a white much brighter than the gently glowing strands of vis, and the sphere of mysticism shone a deep lilac. Strands of glittering lilac lay across and within the woman's mind, the remnants of a spell still befuddling the senses.

As if it was just another spell he was trying to dispel, Quill reached into the inner vis that only mages could access and drew forth an inky black orb of soul energy to mingle in the ara that floated through the air like tendrils of mist. Instead of drawing the resultant arvis mixture back within his body, Quill fashioned it into a long, thin needle with a hook at the end. Using this as his own arcanic surgical instrument, Quill reached into her mind and tried to hook the strands of mystical energy, pulling them out and away from her mind where they would hopefully dissipate as they mingled with the ara in the air. Regardless of whether this worked or not, Quill would then draw his collected arvis back into himself, using the resultant arcalysis reaction to begin the process of casting a basic healing spell, which he laid across her body like a blanket of glittering white mana.

Dropping out of clara, Quill opened his eyes to inspect the results. He hoped it would work, because he was out of ideas.

[Crimson]

The surgical instruments Quilantes used during his attempt to Dispel were met with resistance. Every time he attempted to prod at the weaves of foreign magic clinging to Anna's mind, he found the stuff as hard as iron and more stubborn than a drunk dwarf. After several more attempts, the Initiate's concentration broke and he found himself snapping out of Clara. After regaining his mundane senses, Quilantes found both Jean-Jacques and Master Gerard looking at him quizzically.

"It seems to repel your Dispelling, doesn't it?", the Master Healer asked in quiet tones. "I believe that your proficiency with Arcana has a lot to do with it. My attempts were equally strenuous, though more successful since I am a Journeyman Druid. But, as I've said, my attempts to heal Anna has been only minimally successful."

The Wood Elf added, "perhaps you should try a thaumaturge heal spell. I understand that even Initiates can save many lives alone. If this is true, then perhaps Anna's prayers have been answered this brightening ..." He paused, then regarded Quilantes hopefully.

[Quilantes Zil'aven]

Quill blinked in annoyance as the stubborn weaves broke his concentration and he fell out of clara. Looking around, he noted with surprise that there were two men in the room, and not one as he had first assumed. With a quick nod of his head in greeting, Quill gave another annoyed frown.
"Yes, it is most vexing" he said, glancing back at Anna as if he could still see the obstinantly glittering purple strands, "I've read many journals and treatises on arcana during my studies, but there isn't any mention of spells that actively resist being dispelled. I don't suppose you've come across something like this before?" he said without much hope in his voice. If the druid had seen it before, he would have been able to remove it.
"I'm...not sure if this sort of malady can be helped by the powers of Thaumaturgy, Master Gerard" Quill said carefully. He was only an initiate, but from what he had been taught it was the reinforcement of life essence into the body that prompted a thaumaturges healing spells. They were designed to mend wounds and detoxinate blood and tissue, not repair a damaged mind. That was what mysticists specialised in...well, the benign ones at least. Quill had heard the stories, listened to the whispered warnings of those that befuddled the mind and confused the senses.
"I will do what I can, but I think that the skills of a mystic is what this lady really needs. It is a mystic spell, and they would know how to nullify it, if not dispel the weave itself."

The young elf didn't have a great amount of optimism in his work, but dedicated himself fully to the task nonetheless. If he was to fail, it would not be through lack of effort on his part. Allowing his mind to settle, he sent Kaimelea a quick prayer for the lady, hoping that his Mistress would beckon Anna into rest while he worked. Letting his breathing settle into a rhythmic rising and falling, he let the soothing effects of his wand to lull him into clara after a few minutes worth of meditation. Drawing out an orb of vis, he was tempted to overdraw in an effort to increase the potency of his spell. But, he knew that spellcasting did not work like that, and he might do harm to himself if he tried to overreach in his abilities. Taking just enough to power his initiate Healing spell, he let the inky vis soak up the ara in the air before drawing it back into himself.

The arcalysis sent his mind up, out and away from the Material Plane and onto the Astral, taking form as a large marble pillar rising up through the clouds, atop which he was standing. There were seven bowls on seven podiums at the edges of the pillar, each filled with liquid fire burning in the seven colours of the seven non-thaumaturgical spheres. Normally when casting a spell, he would look skywards to the brilliant sunlight of Thaumaturgy and drink in the essence before returning to the Material Plane. But, seeing as time stood still here, he took a moment to walk over to the bowl filled with purple flames and gazed inside. Unlike the time he first chose his sphere up here in the Astral, the flood of whispered voices and heartfelt emotions weren't as powerful, but he still felt the odd sensation of passing from happiness to anger, then sadness, anxiety, fear and hope in a few moments.
"...What are you doing to that woman?" he asked the flames rhetorically, frowning as he stared into the leaping flames. Oddly enough, these arcanic flames didn't react to his hypersensitive pyrophobia, and he stared pensievely into the dancing fire for a moment. Then, turning his head skywards, he threw out his arms and summoned the essence of the Plane of Life into himself, feeling the white light fill him up like a hot drink on a winter's eve.

Dropping back to the Material Plane, Quill drew forth the template of a basic Healing spell from his memories and carefully allowed the glittering white mana to seep into the template. Reaching out, he placed a cool hand on the woman's forehead and let the spell flow through him and into her as he let out a slow breath. Hopefully it would do at least some good for her

[Crimson]

"Some weaves are designed resist becoming unraveled", Master Gerard said. "Just as some spells can cause an accelerated degeneration of shaped Essence, thus significantly reducing the duration of a spell, a mage can also strengthen their weaves by adding more patterns of alteration or even abjuration." The Master Healer simply inclined his head patiently when Quilantes expressed his doubts. Surely things weren't looking promising. And the Half-Esh was only an Initiate, though a talented one. "I'm sure that any attempt to remove this infection is a step toward a cure, Initiate", Gerard offered before falling silent. He was quite aware of the tedious steps required of low ranked magi prior to casting. Even Jean-Jacques stiffened when Quilantes began to show outward signs of meditation.

When Quilantes finally channeled and shaped his Healing spell, he found himself snapped back to the Plane Material. At that point, he found the familiar afterglow of Life Essence mixing with the air around him and his patient. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Jean-Jacques studied the Initiate Thaumaturge during that time while Gerard the Healer seemed more interested in Anna's reaction - or lack thereof. Then, her body stirred.

"Jean, some water", Gerald muttered and his old pupil quickly poured some cool liquid from a nearby clay pitcher. "Anna? Do you hear me?"

"Hmm ...", the woman groaned. She shifted on the bed, then stretched and yawned. Finally her eyes opened and she squinted back, uncomfortable. "Master Gerard? Master Jean? Where -- what happened?"

The Master Healer grinned. "Have something to drink first", he said while helping Anna sit up on her bed. Jean-Jacques hurried to fetch something from another room. "I believe we have Monsieur Quill here to thank", Gerard added brightly. "He is a thaumaturge."

"A priest?", Anna asked, turning to Quilantes. "Merci beaucoup, mon free. May the gods bless you!"

[Quilantes Zil'aven]

Quill blushed a little at her compliments, rocking back on his heels and getting to his feet.
"Really, Madame. It was the least I could do" he murmered with a small smile at her, studying her gaunt features with an air of concern. She needed food and rest, although the Life Essence he had imbued into her should help her body recover from whatever malady it had been inflicted by.

"Can you tell me the last thing you remember?" he asked her, pouring some water into a cup and handing it to her. He didn't mention the shreds of mystic energy that were still embedded in her vis, hoping that she would be able to remember more clearly without his input biasing her thoughts. If she could not remember anything of import, he would gently explain to her how both he and Master Gerard had attempted to remove as much of the spell as possible.
"My spell has replenished your bodies energy and will help it heal, but I fear that has not combatted the source of your...illness" he said, after pausing for a second to consider the right words.
"I'm afraid I cannot guarantee that you won't simply relapse once my spell has been used up. Anything you can remember gives us a greater chance of helping you" he said gently.

It was strange that people he met on the street would recoil away from his crimson eyes and alabaster complexion, but when he was kneeling over them and weaving spells of healing they were all smiles and gratitude.
That is why I decided upon this path, I suppose he ruminated, to prove to people that I am a good person despite my ancestry.

[Crimson]

Anna became flustered when Quilantes inquired about her affliction. "Well", she began, embarrassed, "I have been seeing this ... fortune teller."

"You did not tell me this before", Gerard added calmly, stroking his beard. Jean-Jacques remained quiet, studying the woman with his almond eyes.

"I'm sorry, sir, but ... I did not think it relevant." She blushed a little more before burying her face in her hands. "After that ... I had strange dreams. She called them visions."

"Did you notice anything odd during your visits with this soothesayer?", Gerard asked.

"She had a wand ... so I thought she was a mage or a witch. But her predictions all came true, monsieur!"

"Such as?"

" ... well", Anna continued more timidly, "I met a man. My soul mate. All because of her prophecy. I did not think it would harm me, sirs." Then she began to cry.

"There, child", Gerard said as he placed one arm around the woman. Nodding to Jean-Jacques, a silent acknowledgment was passed between master and apprentice. Turning to Quilantes, the wood elf motioned for them to step outside.

Once they were out of earshot, Jean-Jacques said, "The Master wishes for me to investigate this faux-prophetess. You may come with me, if you like. I am not gifted in the Arcane." He frowned slightly, perhaps finding it difficult to realize that his great abilities in traditional healing paled in comparison to this stranger's magic.

[Quilantes Zil'aven]

Quill got to his feet and followed Jean-Jaques out of the room with a concerned glance at Anna, who was being comforted by Gerard by her bed.

"I don't like this" he confided in the healer, frowning as he watched the woman from the corridor. Careful to keep his voice low, so as not to distress Anna, he ruminated in front of Jean-Jaques.
"I originally anticipated that this was some sort of ambushed attack on her, maybe a simple criminal with a gift for mysticism who was surprised by Anna and attacked reflexively. This is beginning to sound more and more like a co-ordinated operation, meaning that Anna may not be our only victim. I doubt that such an elaborate set-up would be set in place just to milk people of their coin in a fortune telling session; plenty of tellers in my experience do that without going to the trouble of using arcana to cloud their client's minds."
With another careful look at Anna, making sure she couldn't overhear her, he murmered to Jean-Jaques.
"I am more worried about this man, the 'soul mate' Anna described. Perhaps the fortune teller sets the target up with this man, who then cons his way into her house and loots it in her sleep. If we are to get to the bottom of this, we will need to tread very carefully. If the 'prophetess' suspects something, they very well may flee the city, leaving us with no way of finding out who else may be affected like Anna. We must also remember that neither of us are exactly adept fighters, so if they decide to get violent we are in trouble."
He frowned; there really wasn't very much they could do that the city guards weren't equally if not more capable of. He was a healer, not a private investigator - much less a potential warrior.
"I will accompany you to see this 'prophetess', but I think we should learn all we can there and then turn in our findings to the city guard. I assume they are a reliable force in Jaedaxia? As I mentioned, I only arrived here a cycle or two ago."

[Crimson]

Jean nodded briskly a few times, but otherwise remained quiet. Like Quilantes, he too was wary about this mission Gerard was sending them in. But he had never denied his master anything, and the old healer would not have asked him of this if he was not confident in his former apprentice's abilities. And the Thaumaturge elf, too. The master must have seen something special in him if he was to trust him so easily. "They are adept at their jobs", Jean-Jacques replied in regards to the city guard.

"The Protectorat are diligent and best known for their incorruptible spirit. They are, as many believe, the strong arm of the people. Not cronies of the noblemen or city officials." A small smile touched the Wood Elf's features at that thought. Every young boy in Jaedaxia dreamed of donning the blue and gold of Le Protectorat du Paix one brightening. It just so happened that he was more adept at salves and herbs than with sword and shield.

A moment later, Gerard joined the pair in the corridor. The old healer motioned for the two elves to follow him further away from earshot from Anna. "I have the address", he said at last, still idly stroking his snowy beard. "But she tells me that this 'prophetess' finds her ... erm, clients. So I suppose you two will have to do a bit of acting." A tinge of amusement touched the elderly human's wrinkled eyes. "Worry not. This prophetess specializes in the love-sick and desperate, I think." He looked between Jean and Quilantes, then quirked a single brow upward.

"And I also got a description of this soul mate Anna found in some kind of fateful encounter." Gerard frowned. "A dashing young lad, supposedly. Blond. Green eyes. About your height." He nodded in Quilantes' direction. "Has a small scar beneath his chin. From a fencing duel, or so he claims."

[Quilantes Zil'aven]

oocBAHAHA! Oh the hilarity... XD

Love-sick...and desperate?...
Quill would have blanched, if his skin wasn't already the pallid white of the Esh'laheir. Staring first at Jean-Jaques, then at Gerard, then back at Jean, he tried to wrap his head around the concept.
"I...him...us...lovesick? desperate?!" he squeaked. What the feth!? He was a healer, dammit! Not a fighter, not an actor and certainly not a lovestruck man-lover! After taking a few moments to calm himself, he tried voicing his protests.

"Master Gerard...I'm no-...I don't think I would be the...best suited for such a ruse. Acting is hardly a polished ability of mine" he said weakly, glancing at Jean for back-up. Surely he wouldn't be up for such a mad idea? ...Surely?
"Does one of you not have a female relative or friend we could convince to join us? Or perhaps I'm...a friend of Master Jean-Jaques, coming with him for...moral support as he asks about his partner?" he said, the pitiful strains of hope shining through in his words. Dear gods! He thought he was awkward around women?! With the prospect of...pretending to be Jean's lover, well...he'd take a woman's arms any day!
I do not see the problem with this, I doubt you would have to prove this affection in front of her...
Shuddup!
Maybe hand-holding at worst...
SHUDDUP!
I doubt she'd expect a ki-
"SHUT. UP." Quill yelled through gritted teeth before blinking in embarrasment at the pair standing in front of him.
"Uhm...sorry, just...talking to myself" he mumbled, a bright red blush standing out against his white skin. Ye gods, did this day take a turn for the worse or what?

[Crimson]

"There's only one way to find out", the Healer replied mysteriously, though not without an amused smirk to bid the two fellows good luck.

Should Quilantes not chicken-out for the sake of some false sense of masculinity, he would easily find himself in La Range with Jean-Jacques in tow. The wood elf had been quiet since leaving the clinic, and for good reason. He may be thinking exactly what Quill had been debating with his other half: would they be forced into some elf-on-elf action for the sake of potentially saving a slew of scammed maidens?

The answer to their soliloquies came in the form of a curvaceous woman approaching them like a tigress. And that wasn't taking a metaphor too far. She was a katta who sported orange and black stripes and a wicked, matching tail. She purred at Jean who turned a shade closer to Quilantes. "You two look lossst", she said with emphasis. "How would you handssssome ladsss like your fortune read?"

"I aim to impressss and pleasssse", she added with a wink toward Quilantes this time. "My shoppe is just over there." She inclined her head toward a small tent with silk partitions. In front was a blond human with green eyes. He was chatting up a young woman who was giggling and tossing her head back like a fool. The handsome lad was carrying a jewel-hilted rapier along his belt, but there was something about its placement and awkward position that hinted at its non-use.

[Quilantes Zil'aven]

...I can't handle this. You take over.
If you insist, you're the one who says that I'm inept in social situations.
I don't care. You can't do any worse than I would.
With that, Quill dove into the depths of his subconscious. The relationship he shared with M was...interesting. He had grown up with the tall, stoic angel all his life as an imaginary friend. When he was on the road with Mother, wondering where their next home would be or what their next meal would entail, M's presence was a comforting one. Mother had taken him to see a priest about the situation, concerned that her son's attachment to his imagination was unhealthy. The priest had concluded that it was perfectly normal for a child to create imaginary friends as a response to a loneliness or absence in their lives. The priest suspected that a lack of friends and father-figure was the cause of M's genesis. However, all this passed over the head of young Quill. Gradually, as the years went on and the nightmares continued, M was there for Quill in his darkest of hours.

On the day he had lost his mother to the Esh'laheir of Ethgan'tor, M appeared to Quill in the Forests of Light and assured the boy that they would be together for the rest of their days. On that day, something changed in Quill's mind. Perhaps it was insanity, perhaps it was merely adaption, but M ceased to be a figment of the boy's imagination and began to develop his own individual personality, embodying everything Quill wished to be; strong, swift, fearless and an unwavering bulwark against the darkness of the boy's own mind.

Now, Quill allowed his mind to float, in a fashion similar to meditation, as Michaelian's consciousness asserted itself over the body. He straightened up, Quill's nervous hunch vanishing as his crimson eyes flashed. Gripping the whitewood staff in his hand, gathered from the Forest of Light where he first appeared to his alter-ego, Michaelian swept off towards La Range, letting Jean-Jaques trail after the billowing folds of his cloak.

Now, the tigress purred at him, and the elf stared back at her emotionlessly. That same stare, both dead and calculating at the same time, had caused others to clam up mid-sentence. Unlike the nervous, bumbling and generally benevolent Quilantes, Michaelian exuded an air of mechanical ruthlessness.
"We are not lost" M said, his voice cold and flat. Jean-Jaque may have been surprised at this, his 'partner' apparently having become a different person to the terrified boy who spoke to Gerard less than a candlemark ago.
"This man here is love-sick and desperate. He requires your assistance. I am merely here as an associate."
In the depths of the mind, Quill mentally face-palmed to himself. Perhaps tagging out wasn't such a good idea after all.
I see a man, he fits the description that the elder healer provided.
Even without their mental dialogue, Quill could still read his alter-ego's mind, his unspoken intentions to close the distance between the two of them and swing around with the staff. The first strike would be aimed behind the knees, sending the man off balance before a sharp crack on the top of the head, finished off with a kick to the chest to send the man sprawling to the ground, Quill's dagger held to his throat.
With an wordless, mental exclamation, Quill wrestled for control of his muscles with Michalian.
No! That's not the plan!
Why? We can force him to confess.
We have no proof! The watch would be onto us in a moment!
...Very well. I will watch and wait, for now.

The only outward display of their inner struggle was a momentary tightening of the grip on Quill's staff, crimson eyes glancing at the man before turning back to the Katta.
Now smile.
What?
You know, with the mouth.
Slowly, Michaelian gave the katta a half-grimace, before his face returned to it's emotionless stoicism.
...I give up.

[Crimson]

Jean-Jacques couldn't believe his pointy ears. He nearly turned around and walked away from the embarrassment, but decided that they had already committed to the ... mission, and Master Gerald was depending on them. "Oui ... this is my associate", the wood elf muttered. "I am ... erm, seeking your ... services." The young healer's tanned features visibly blushed at those words.

The katta was thrilled. "Lovely!", she purred, "follow me, gentlemen!" Without waiting for their response, she took each elf by an elbow and led them hastily toward her shoppe. The tent-like structure was nestled where an ally should have been between two buildings. It was a semi-permanent structure with wooden supports inside. A blast of cinnamon greeted Jean and his 'associate' as they entered through the first silk partition, passing the handsome guard standing outside entertaining a young woman. The katta didn't seem to mind, but Quilantes-as-Michaelian noticed them exchange a knowing glance.

At once, Quilantes and Jean-Jacques entered into a circular space. There was an Arakmatan rug placed beneath them adorned with symbols of the three suns with desert scenes and faces of forgotten gods. Lanterns and incense filled the room, along with strange symbols, and other exotic artifacts. A round wooden table covered in white silk sat in the heart of the room. Three chairs were conveniently placed in a triangular pattern around it. The katta took the one at the head of the table and motioned for her guests to be seated.

The tigroness began to chant and wave her paws dramatically over the center of the table as soon as Quilantes and Jean sat. Suddenly, there was a blue, cloudy orb hovering over the table. "The spiritssss know your hearts' desires", the self-styled seer murmured in exaggerated tones. "But they demand a price! In gold! To find your true love!"

Apparently, spirits liked coin as much as anyone on the Material Plane.