Log:Scars

It's a bright and sunny afternoon in the market district, and the clouds from earlier have burned away to reveal blue skies. The air is crisp and a little chill, and the market is alive and well. Seldan emerges from a leather shop a little down the road, a bundle under his arm, and starts off eastward towards the bridge. He looks - normal. Good, even - certainly better than he had been, and wearing some new gear. Certainly he looks as if he's actually warm for a change.

As Seldan walks along, the sound of a violin can be heard. Getting closer. And closer. Until the Gobbo playing is spinning about the man. Her blue dress billows out as she spins, twirling about as she goes. She stops then, at his side, and grins up at the man. "You look a lot better than the last time I saw you, Seldan. How're you feeling?"

Orenthal is walking along, taking the air, the tak-tak-tak of his walking staff punctuating his steps. He occasionally pauses in his walk, just pausing and reflecting. The spinning and fiddling goblin catches his attention and he'll watch and listen as she fiddles.

Erendriel returns to the market distrct after some goings on earlier. In a more even mood than before, she considers what to do with the rest of the day, hans on hips.

Seldan blinks in confusion at the violinist - until he realizes who it is, and laughs. -Definitely- feeling better. For unspoken answer, he tucks the bundle from the leathersmith under one arm, and with the now-freed hand, makes a gesture and speaks a word of the arcane. The head of the violin begins to glow with a soft, golden-silver light, and he watches her for her response. "I owe your friends a great deal, Acedia."

He hasn't noticed that a patch of inky blackness has formed on the side of his neck in a curious blotch-shape.

"I am sure that your future help against the ones responsible for the plague's spread will be thanks enough to them.", the Gobbo says with a grin. She blinks as the violin lights up, and she stares at it. "It's never done that before." Acedia eyes Seldan suspicious, and then grins toothily. Her expression slowly starts to turn to one of unease. "Uuuhm. You know how the whites of my eyes are black, Seldan?"

Hun'rar is wearing the same breaches and tunic as earlier in the day but this time he has a scabbard with his bastard sword across one shoulder. "Seldan, been looking for you." he says before turning to Acedia "Hun'rar, Warden of Gilead." he says by way of introduction.

Erendriel hears the name Seldan spoken repeatedly, so she shuffles back on over. "Hi..." she says softly to everyone.

Orenthal just sort of loiters for now, watching the people pass. The music has stopped, but it may start again.

Seldan makes a dismissive gesture, and the golden-silver light on the end of the violin winks out. "The Dreamer permits Her faithful the study of the arcane arts as well, and in fact encourages us to do so. I have some gifts that way, I just had to lay them aside while I was ill," he explains, studying Acedia curiously. "A moment, Hun'rar, if you would ... yes. It does not trouble me, you have spoken of why that is so. Why do you ask?"

The blotch on the side of his neck - that inky blackness - is beginning to expand, and another patch has formed on the outside of his hand. For those who saw him earlier, this is entirely new.

Hun'rar smiles to Erendriel "Holding up alright?" before he turns back to Seldan when he spots the blotch "You uh got something there Seldan, your hand and neck. Something going on?" he asks with concern.

Acedia blinks at Hun'rar and his forthright introduction, and she takes a step or two to the side, with Seldan blocking view of most of her. "Hi.", she says, almost as softly as Erendriel. The Gobbo looks a little disappointed when the violin's light fades, and she nods to Seldan then. "Ah, so you have a few little tricks, like I do!" Her violin vanishes. "So uhm. Yeah. There's a ... blotch on your neck. Kind of inky black. Like my eyes."

Erendriel looks at Seldan, and raises her voice just a little. "You were ill after all? Oh no. All better no..." she starts to say, but Hun'rar's and Acedia's point gets her attention, and she goes to gawk herself. "Oh no is that... is that the..."

"What?" Puzzled now, Seldan looks down at himself, turns his hand over, and recoils in naked shock and dismay. "I ...holy stars. What is..." Horrified, he -stares- at his hand, then looks back at Acedia, then at his hand. "Acedia, what is this?" He looks up and around, suddenly flushing, which is not a good color combination with the inky patch on his neck.

That patch, and the one on his hand, is slowly beginning to expand, as if someone had covered an ink spill with a thin towel, and the color had seeped through, except in slow motion.

Acedia reaches up to pat Seldan's arm. "Ssshhh. It's okay. It's just the last goodbye from the plague." The Gobbo points to her nearly completely black eyes, save for the red of her irises. "It's not hurtful or harmful in any way, just... just a little odd, you know? I think maybe it's reacting to something? Light? A smell? Musical Gobbos?"

Hun'rar shakes his head "This ain't the plague or I'm a roast pig. This is... dunno. Don't look like anything medical. Magic maybe? Anger any witches?" he asks with raised eyebrows.

Erendriel does take a step back even just a her thought that it might be the plague. "Oh good," she sighs though. "The plague is... I'd never wish that on anyone." Stares from a safe distance, using her goggles to get a better look, as she considers.

It's midafternoon now, and the sun has come out to burn away the clouds from earlier. Seldan stands in the middle of a group of people, a bundle under one arm that looks as if it came out of one of the local leather shops. The entire group seems to be staring at him, and for good reason - even he seems to be staring in shock and horror at himself. At an inky black blotch on the side of his neck, and another one on the edge of his hand. One watching closely could almost swear to watching them slowly expand, like a towel absorbing an ink spill in slow motion. A third dot of that inky blackness has appeared on his cheekbone as well.

Visibly drawing a deep breath, and then another, and murmuring one of Eluna's children's prayers, Seldan steadies himself, and his eyes unfocus briefly in a way that Hun'rar should recognize. He shakes his head a moment later, the momentary unfocused look clearing, and looks over at Hun'rar. "Do you sense any evil in it? I do not." Eyes go up to Erendriel. "You were the only one of us from the tower that did not contract it, Erendriel."

The Gobbo stares at Hun'rar, and then points at her eyes. "The plague left me with black sclera. So, unless you got more proof, you're a roast pig. Lemme get the carving knife.." She grins toothily, and looks to Erendriel. "He's not contagious." Acedia moves to stand close to Seldan, and hugs his side. "You can lean on me if you need to, Seldan."

Erendriel takes a slow, deep breath, lowering her goggles. "Seldan. That... looks a lot like a plauge ooze to me..." her voice going softer as she speaks. Swallowing hard. "I don't think I got it... because I already had it, and Kol or his mistress in the tower cured me of it once. Ithink I'm immunte to it now.. But... it's inside you. Have you... cast any magic lately?"

Hun'rar narrows his eyes "Its a parasitic ooze, I studied it a lot in myself... I didn't expect anything like this. Although... it did leave a mark on Erendriel as well and that blackness wouldn't show well on my skin. Been coughing at all?"

Malik steps out of the side alley into the market district, curiosity on his face. Everyone is gathered around. Everyone is staring at Seldan. And the healer is there, hugging him. He frowns, jogging over as concern crosses his face -- and then a look of shock as he sees that's happening, his steps slowling, but not stopping. "Holy shit," he whispers, Tsuran accent making the words sound distinctly foreign. But strangely, he doesn't look surprised. Much. He looks the man over, asking, "When did it start?" Though at the rate it's spreading, he can guess the approximate time.

It isn't as if it shows particularly well on Seldan's fair skin, either. He shakes his head at Hun'rar and looks down at Acedia, managing a small, grateful smile despite his shock and unease. "Just when I came out of the shop, Malik." He doesn't even need to look up to see who that is, but it's Erendriel to whom he has the most to say. "It's all right, Erendriel. I am no longer ill, thanks to ..." He pauses, glances down at Acedia, and doesn't finish the sentence. "Much has happened while you were working with your lockpicks. Let us sit down in the pub, and explain." All trace of good humor and cheekiness are gone.

Hun'rar raises an eyebrow "Well maybe I am a roast pig after all. If you start feeling ill let me know and I can fly you to the temple." he says with a grin "It isn't evil or nothing, maybe just an after effect." he just shrugs. "But I think we all could use a drink."

Erendriel squints. "If you're sure you're alright... I mean we could get you to the Arcanist dungeon right away. The anti-magic field there stops the plague completely. We could hurry if you want."

Acedia waves to Malik, and then looks to Hun'rar. "The plague leaves a mark on everyone it touches, figuratively and literally." She reaches up to give Seldan a bit of a push. "It's a scar. And it only does what all scars do, remind us of the pain we felt, and forces us to recall that pain. Even if for a moment." The Gobbo glances around at the others. "But we're all still alive. It didn't kill us. No matter how or why, we're on the right side of the grass. We're going to stop those who spread the plague. We can protect those still on the right side of the grass, and avenge those who have passed on."

"No," Malik says flatly, turning his glance to Erendriel at her suggestion of the arcanist's dungeon. "Is that this city's answer to everything? Lock it away in the dark until you feel like dealing with it openly? Oh, but they're -safe-," he counters himself, with no small degree of sarcasm. "Locked away, prodded at for months, cut off from the things that define them." His tone is cold, but that gaze is steady. "It's already handled. Nothing for the Arcanists to make their reputation on, at the cost of someone else's suffering."

"Precisely so." Some of Seldan's smile returns at Acedia's stout words. "There is no need for any of that. I am not ill, nor am I troubled." Except by how -creepy- that looks. Shaking himself with another murmured prayer and a deep breath, he speaks another arcane word and holds up a hand, and the bundle in his hand begins to hover without him holding it. The process doesn't seem to bother him at all, but after a few moments he dismisses the spell and grabs the package again. When did the paladin learn Mage Hand?

By now, the patching on his face is noticeable, and the group is getting stares and avoidance from passersby in the market street.

Erendriel manages to be distracted from Seldan as she folds her arms and whrils to Malik. "I Was grateful for the Arcanists, and the people who came down to visit with me when I had the plague. They saved my life, you know." But when Seldan casts, she looks back. "That's... then what IS it? I got my mark not from the plague, but fromt he people who removed it. What.. put that in you? you HAD the plague? The tower gave it to you? What happened? How were you cured?" ALL thequestions, for ALL the exposition.

Hun'rar shrugs "I isolated myself to study it, I have ideas of how to treat it but... if only it were a proper disease. That would be easier to deal with. So if it's just a proverbial scar... are we going to get a drink or not? I think a fee of us could use a pick-me-up." he winks at Erendriel.

Acedia frowns at Malik, and shakes her head. "I would be dead if it were not for the Arcanist's dungeon. And they did not prod me or bother me in any way. So.. dunno what you are on about, honestly." She looks to Seldan, and cants her head as the package hovers. "We should get to the pub. A few people here need some loosening up.", the Gobbo says to Seldan. She blinks at the sudden barrage of questions from Erendiel, and Acedia looks to Seldan a moment, before glancing back at the other woman. "He had the plague. He is cured. Dunno how he got it. The blotches are just the plague's last goodbye. I think the Sith cured him. Likely Chay, or those of his caste."

Seldan looks around him, one more time, at Acedia nudging him, then at the pub door. "Let us find food and drink, and I will tell all that I know. I could use a meal." Taking his package, the paladin starts for the pub door, reaching a hand down to guide Acedia with him if she'll go.

Erendriel nods and follows Seldan on in. She can't help but keep gawking at the black spots on Seldan, studying them, hafl expecting them toleap out at her the whole time.

Malik turns to the little goblin, that serious face melting away as he greets her properly, flashing her a wink. "Found something in the market for you," he tells her, reaching into his bag and pulling out a strange, pink-and-green fruit of some kind, probably as big as her head. "Hard to find around here. It's not much," he says, "but I owe you. So. Consider this a token of my gratitude. I think you'll enjoy it." Though at the counters from both her and Erendriel, he offers a shrug. "It seems that you and I have had very different experiences with them, then." And he lets it go at that, following into the pub.

Hun'rar follows along, taking a seat along with the rest at an empty table "I see you found your leather." he says to Seldan "I wanted to ask you were you got the armor from, another heirloom?" he says before ordering his drink. "I have personal news to share too, something pretty wonderful I think."

Acedia blinks at Malik a moment, staring at the large fruit. "What... what is it?" She sniffs curiously at it, and bites at the flesh of it experimentally. She lets herself get guided along by Seldan, and she settles into a chair at the table the others gather at.

The only thing the black spots seem to be doing on Seldan's skin is expanding, almost visibly, although as he opens the door and enters the relative dimness of the pub. the effect appears to freeze in its tracks. He settles down at a table big enough for all, opting for a table in a relatively quiet part of the establishment. "I found a good bit of gear in my quarters at the Temple when I returned, along with a note from Father. I think that he felt a little badly for not traveling with Mother, and instead would have me see to her." He frowns at that, briefly troubled, then orders as the waitress comes over. "An ale and the special for today, please."

Erendriel points to his hand, still watching Seldan even as they sit. Not ordering food yet. "It... stopped.." she murmurs. before finally ordering something simple for herself, meat and drink.

Malik sits down as well, answering the goblin's question. "They have many names. At home, we called them 'pitaya', though they were not native. Traders used to bring them. You cut them open and scoop out the flesh. It's soft and sweet, and smells wonderful. I think they come from someplace warmer." But he, too, looks over at the marks on Seldan, though he doesn't seem to have much more to add right now, mostly keeping quiet.

Hun'rar nods " Glad your father is helping then, also there are a few good armor crafters in town who can help you." when Hun'rar orders food he orders neat cooked very well done, almost burned. "I recall having them once in a while before." he says to Malik. "Not to my taste but it's not a question of quality."

Acedia grins at Malik. "Thank you.", she says sweetly, with a little scratchiness to her voice. She runs a claw down the length of the fruit, and pulls the fruit open. Sniffing at the flesh, she bites into it, and chews. "Mmmph." Grinning more broadly, she begins to devour the fruit quickly.

"They were quite delicious," Seldan tells Acedia with a smile, but nods to Hun'rar. The server takes all the orders back and bustles away, returning a few minutes later with a round of drinks. "Do we share our knowledge, we can work together to find answers for this thing. Hun'rar has been able to learn much. I had known of the plague, but it did not touch me until I took a Guild job to seek out a white tower on the Plane of Fire. There, we found many things," and he blinks at something, but shakes his head and dismisses it, taking his ale instead and sipping at it. "Among them, a black ooze, that we were pushed through to get to the wizard's study."

Erendriel sits back a little, looking away from Seldan enough to see what Malik was up to. Nodding, approving of the grumpy man seeming to do something nice for someone! She approves. "That was the opposite of what happend to me, when an ooze pushed into me." she adds to the conversation.

Hun'rar nods "It was in the tower when it got me. I was able to uncover a good deal about the wizard who owned the tower though and we have some clues. The wizard is long dead, even after attaining Lichdome. However he may have a son who is still alive and theres a tower up north we can explore." he says with a firm nod.

The Gobbo enjoys the fruit quite thoroughly, even eating the skin and pointy bits. She listens carefully as people tell how they caught the plague. "I was volunteering in the Soldier's Defense. A slime came out of a lady, a nice lady who baked the nicest apple pies... it came out and I fought it, it went up my nose, and after that.. I had the plague."

Malik, at this point, mostly just stares off into a darkened corner, not having much to add about the time in the tower, for some reason. There's no smile there this time, just a stoic look as his eyes find their way into nearby shadows, letting others continue their story as he gestures to one of the servers for a drink of his own.

The Fernwood is quiet, but there are a clutch of people sitting at one of the larger tables. Drinks dot their table, but food does not, as yet, and the group appears to be talking. It is a motley crew, to be sure, but then, many a gathering in Alexandria is exactly thus. Seldan leans back in his chair, listening to the stories for himself and sipping his own drink. "Acedia here came to our rescue, Malik and I, since we had not seen you, Erendriel. She helped us a great deal, and helped us cope with an illness that neither of us understood. Neither of us wished to seek either the dungeon nor the Soldier's Defense, for it seemed too much like giving up and waiting to die, and both of us were determined to fight. If I was to die, I thought, let it be in Her service and in the trying, not in the waiting."

"I had been slated to return home for a few weeks when this truck, and I canceled that flight, so when Mother received word, she came to me. There was a reason for summoning me home, one I had not expected ... she wished to pass an heirloom to me." With this, he draws the sword and lays it across his palms for all to see. He's put a fighting edge on the blade, and it is of a very old style, but very well made, with a carved pommel. The leather grips are shot, though. "There is a family legend surrounding this blade, she told me, that it remembers every wielder it has ever had, and might awake for one found worthy. It wasn't magical, though, and it sounded quite absurd, really." He pauses, eyes lowering.

The speaker's skin is most odd - fair as a spring day, but with inky black patches and blotches here and there across face and hands. The effect is eerie.

Erendriel is given her drink, and she starts in on it. When Seldan tells his story, she widens her eyes, and swallows. "I wish I'd known... sorry... I'm glad you're alright..." Eyes flicking between Seldan's blade, and the blotches, as she swallows.

Hun'rar shrugs "So have you used the sword in a fight yet? Only one way to know if your worthy right?" he offers as a suggestion. "Unless drinking and eating are signs of course in which case your in the correct place." he adds with a grin.

Aya emerges from a room and loiters on the mezzanine briefly to observe the patrons gathered below; from silent lone lushes to boisterous groups of celebrants, and all between. For those between those two extremes, her head cants to casually catch snippets of conversations.

Malik turns to look at Erendriel, a thought there. The cold gaze is gone, though, now, this one more curious. Whatever it is, though, he doesn't say it. Perhaps the wizard is learning some tact. He glances over at the blade, though, curious eyes on it, before adding, "I can fix your breastplate when we get home tonight. I know how to work with the materials, and the style."

The Gobbo slips from her chair, and moves to where Malik sits, where she peers up at him. "Do you have any others?", she wonders of him, regarding the fruit. "And you have a look of someone who has seen much pain."

Seldan looks over at Malik in surprise, and automatically sheathes the blade. "Your aid would be welcome, Malik. I know something of it, but-" He stops, watching Malik for a moment, and turns back to the others. If anything, he looks - confused. Embarrassed. No, not embarrassed. -Shamed-. "I was a fool. When I touched the blade, I thought to test its balance - when a wall of a thousand, thousand voices hit me, all at once. All trying to talk to me, and to each other. To tell me things. A tidal wave of memories and voices, all at once. I ... remember nothing more, until I awoke in a tent." His eyes are down. "There is much that I remember, much that I was shown. I even understand some of it. There are things at my fingertips, that I do not remember learning their secret, secrets of both the arcane and Eluna's grace, of fighting, of other planes ..."

Erendriel is also impressed by that, as she digs into her food. "That was a big trip. Sounds like things went... al things considered, better than you expected. That's good?"

Hun'rar nods, agreeing with Erendriel "Sounds like an unique experience. Maybe I will plumb your mind for some of those secrets when we get a chance. I am still researching the power of my bloodline and developing that further. Perhaps you can help."

"Pain is a wonderful teacher," Malik tells her, that little smile coming back. "Too many try and avoid it at all costs, and sometimes it is wise. But pain makes you stronger. Wiser. More able to withstand the storm. More aware of the nature of the world. 'And even in our sleep'," he starts, as if quoting something, "'pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, comes wisdom to us by the terrible grace of the gods.'" Though he reaches for the satchel at his side, sliding it over to her. There are at least four more in there, from the look of it. Malik, though, listens to Seldan, then turns his gaze on Hun'rar and Erendriel.

"It was wonderful," he starts, in that deadpan. "He was unconscious, and I held both of us up on the horse for a hard ride, until my vision blurred and my muscles ached. I couldn't breath. My magic was gone. His blood was boiling in his veins, and all I had were the basest of herbs to try and bring it down. He was barely breathing, deep in sleep, and I -- didn't sleep for days, trying everything in my power to keep both of us alive, until we found a solution that was almost worse than the disease, inches from death, drowning in our own blood and the ooze as it ripped its way through us. I'd recommend it to anyone, really. Couldn't have gone better." There is not a hint of humor in his voice. "Pain may be a good teacher. But it is not a kind one."

Aya departs the upper level, bypassing the stairs to simply cease to exists by the railing and begin to exist near the conversation on pain and learning. Near, but not too near; she remains an arm's length and a half from any one individual. "It wouldn't be nearly as memorable a lesson if it was pleasant, would it?"

The Gobbo tugs at Malik's sleeves when he is done speaking. "You forgot the part where you refused to rest once Svarshan and I got there.", she says with a cheeky grin.

Seldan listens to the entire exchange, looking up as Aya speaks. It seems to snap him out of his own thoughts. "It certainly does get one's attention better, and I have learned a great deal of what makes a friend, and of who my friends are." His voice is heavily tinted with the accent of the Myrrish. "Still, this is a lesson I would not wish on Taara herself. Well," his lips twitch as he considers it, "perhaps on Taara, but on none other." The smile fades. "You made yourself worse, overtaxing yourself so, Malik, but I am grateful for it."

His food has arrived, but sits piping before him, untouched so far. "In truth, it was a cure, and for that, I am forever grateful to those who wrought it. I do not wish to speak their names, for it was a measure born of desperate necessity, and I would see none slain attempting a repeat of such a method. Malik is not wrong. There was no evil in it, but holy power is as brutal as any power known, and moreso than many."

Those looking closely at Seldan might noticed that the black spot on his cheekbone is beginning to disappear. Slowly, much more slowly than it appeared, but it is disappearing.

Erendriel eats her meal, and takes a slow, deep breath as they all tll their story. "That's awful," she murmurs with her mouthful, before swallowing. "I'm glad it's over. But you're saying... this effect is... permanent? It's like.. what's left of the ooze is trapped inside you?"

"She would be the teacher," Aya suggests to Seldan, "rather than the student." Her eyes flit to Malik, then, and partial step makes her distance an even two armlengths.

Hun'rar nods to Seldan and Malik. "There is a phrase the Angorites use at the gym. No pain, no gain. But I wonder if I a littel magic can make the spots fade or perhaps it will happen in time." he adds with a shrug and he consumes his food.

Acedia looks to Seldan, and nods to him solemnly. She peers at Erendriel then and shakes her head. "As I said before, it's a scar. The plague is gone from Seldan. He's far too energetic and cheerful to be still infected. He probably feels so much better than he has in weeks or months." Hun'rar gets a look. "He should leave it be instead of messing around with it." She glances back to Malik and looks at him expectantly.

"Someone I cared about could have died," Malik says somberly to the little goblin tugging at his sleeve. "Sleep could wait. And then," he adds with a smile, "it seemed that he wasn't going to. Not right then, anyway. And sleep was the last thing that I wanted." He looks to Seldan, offering a shrug. "You would have done the same." He leans over, bumping the man's shoulder playfully with his own. Though he looks to Erendriel and Hun'rar, this time his voice a bit warmer. "I think it's an interaction of the magics," he tells them. "Powerful forces not meant to mix, leaving behind a residue of sorts. Conflicting changes to reality are unpredictable, at best. Deadly, often. And worse still more times than I like to think of." He pulls another of the fruits out, offering it to Acedia, and then nods to Aya. "Even Taara has her place in the order of things."

Seldan's lips press together as he considers Aya's words, picking up his ale again. He looks as if he is about to reply, but instead shakes his head and seems to think better of it, taking a sip and setting it back down. Instead of picking up his spoon, he turns his hand over, examining it closely, especially the black blotch along its edge. The blotchy effect is unsettling, rather like vitiligo, only in reverse, but this one, too, seems to be fading slowly.

Seldan's lips press together as he considers Aya's words, picking up his ale again. He looks as if he is about to reply, but instead shakes his head and seems to think better of it, taking a sip and setting it back down. Instead of picking up his spoon, he turns his hand over, examining it closely, especially the black blotch along its edge. The blotchy effect is unsettling, rather like vitiligo, only in reverse, but this one, too, seems to be fading slowly. He doesn't respond to Malik's playful bump.

Erendriel nods to the explanations, defintiely happy to know it's just a 'scar', albeit a very unusual one. "I was thinking of having my scar removed with some magic, at some point. Ice? And I mean, yeah the vampire part too." But mostly the ice part. "As long as you're well, both of you."

Hun'rar nods "Covering a visual scar shouldn't be too much of an issue. But I can see not getting too deep with the magic to remove it. In any case, my meal is done and I have to go." he says standing up from the table. "A good evening to everyone."

The Gobbo squeaks at the gift of another fruit, and she leans in to hug at Malik for a few moments, before she pulls open the skin of the fruit, and begins to devour its contents. She pauses to peer at Erendriel. "Leave it be. Take it as a symbol of your own. It stays because you decided it. Wear it proudly and extend the middle finger to those who gave it to you. I'm hoping that the .. nasty person who did all this... I'm hoping that the last thing they see in this world or the next is my eyes. Looking down at them. With nothing but pity in them." She yawns a moment, and waves to Hun'rar. "I should go as well.", she mumbles, and moves to head up the stairs. "Be well, everyone. And I shall seek you out, Seldan and Malik. We have work to do!"

"Such a scar could be useful at times," Aya offers. "To keep away those you do not wish near, for example."

Malik, for his part, gets quiet again as the others make their leave, and Erendriel starts to talk about having the scars removed with magic. He can't even help himself -- he chuckles a bit at that, reclining his head back and closing his eyes for a moment, though he looks to Seldan curiously. There's a brief interplay of something on his face, but it goes neutral again quickly enough. His own drink finally comes, though he puts it in front of the paladin. "I think you might need this more than I do."

At Acedia's, and then Aya's suggestion, Seldan looks up, with a warm and grateful smile for the gobber's retreating back that fades. He's too slow to bid farewell to the departing dragon knight, although he still hasn't touched his food yet. "Well-meant, but the people of Alexandria are frightened enough, I think. I would not give them more reason to fear." From the look he gives his hand, he finds it unsettling himself. "That much is true - or perhaps, to deflect questions best not fully answered?"

Erendriel, though, gets a level and steady look from the paladin. "Tell me of your own activities. Did you not know that we had been infected, during the report to the Guild?" When Malik sets the drink in front of him, he eyes the wizard, then chuckles. "I never thought I would see the day you hand your drink to another, Malik." He doesn't pick it up immediately, though.

Erendriel sees MAlik being nice AGAIN, and she nods once more. "Well, nothing as important as what you've been doing. I thought you might be ill from the tower, but Idind't realize you had the plague... but that explains why I didn't see you for a while." She finishes her mug and shakes her head. "You saw today. I've been... apparently accomplsihing absolutely nothing at all."

Aya nods to Seldan. "So I've noticed. The air is thick with it. Judiciously, it's a useful tool. Run rampant..." she makes a small vague gesture with one hand, " it just causes chaos, which tends to harm all and benefit none."

Malik listens to the exchanges, considering what they all have to say. "Sometimes," he says, tone careful, "a little fear, and a little chaos, are exactly the spark that starts the fires of change. Some of our greatest accomplishments have happened after enough people became fearful of the established orders." Though he can't help but grin at Seldan, some of that old Malik coming back through. "You're right. I must not be feeling well still. Better check for poison," he starts, picking it up and taking a sip before setting it back down. "Seems safe enough."

At Aya's suggestion, Seldan frowns disapprovingly. "Sowing caution and sowing fear are not the same, and the latter is the tool of a tyrant. But - you are right. Causing chaos will help none here. There is enough fear, and ..." He turns his hand over, studying t he blotch again, clearly bothered by it. Only when Malik cracks the joke does he look up, and smile. "Drink your own drink. I have one." Finally, he drops the hand and picks up his spoon, starting to consume his cooling meal.

After a few bites, though, he sets it down again, gaze on Erendriel. "You were so consumed with your own pursuits that you failed to see the need of others. Your counsel and your wisdom would have been appreciated, and your talents are still needed. You told me once that all you wanted was a friend. I say to you now - if you would have a friend, begin by being one. Use your powers to aid others - and you cannot aid others if you do not see the need."

Erendriel shakes her head. "If I'd seen you, Seldan, I'd ahve tried to help. But I didn't. I wasn't seeing you around. If I'd known you ahd the plague... well I'd have gotten you medicine right away. I know who has it. It doesn't cure.. but it puts it to sleep. If I'd known... but it's so hard to know in a city this big. Too many people. You barely hear anything at all."

"It isn't difficult to stay informed, if you know what to listen to and for, and he makes a valid point." Aya notes to Erendriel as she gives a slight indicative nod aside towards Seldan. "If you feel you didn't accomplish enough, then work to accomplish more. It is as simple as that."

Malik listens to the exchange, glancing back and forth between the conversants, but it seems that he takes Seldan's advice, sipping at his drink for a moment, not having too much to add to this particular leg of the conversation. Instead, he gestures to the server, pointing at Seldan's plate and holding up a hand for another, his stomach letting out an audible rumble.

A grateful nod accompanies Seldan's smile for Aya as she backs him up, but he isn't done, and his food continues to be forgotten in front of him. "I was a fool for not seeing sooner how horrific and dangerous this is, but now that I know, and I know it for what it is, I will lay down my life and soul to see it banished from Ea. Excuses and recriminations and blame will not save the people of Alexandria from this curse, and nor will sitting back and hoping for a cure. True that a cure must be found, but it is not enough. No, the person responsible must be stopped, or Ea is not safe, cure or no."

"So I ask you now, Erendriel. You know how horrific this plague is, and what it does to people and animals. Will you lay aside your own concerns, and put your talents to seeing this Mistress and her lackey stopped? Or will you sit back and wait, because that is safest?"

Erendriel had a rough day. Looking between them all she inhales sharply. "If I'd known, I'd have done something for Seldan. I know that. I only survived the plague with help. I'd have done anything." Blinking hard, she rubs her eyes, and takes a deep breath. "Seldan. The last time I faced Kol, we all had to run away from him. I could try, but if I tried to stand up to him, I'd just get killed. I'll help if I can, but suicide for honor doesn't help anyone." She then sniffs, lays down coin for her food, and leaves.

Malik watches as the woman leaves, something akin to sympathy flashing on his face for a moment. But just a moment. He takes a breath, weighing what's been said, taking a deep breath as he says, "I think that we have two paths that we can follow. But luckily," he adds, "they both go in the same direction. Hun'rar mentioned a tower up north, and a surviving son. And you mentioned that the image of Zeheir spoke of a town there, with a history of snowflake scars."

"Yes." Seldan looks after Erendriel as well as she runs off, but his own body language is filled with sadness and pity, and less with compassion. "That is so. We should work ourselves back into fighting shape as quickly as we may, then see about assembling a team and finding this tower and village, wherever they might be. We can do no less. It is time." Finally, he does begin to eat, a few more bites.

The blotchy black on his hands and face is continuing to fade, leaving smooth, fair skin where it melts away. It is an achingly slow process, butit has begun.

"I'll train as hard as we can manage," he tells the Paladin. "But we'll have to stop by the market for more of that oil that the fighters use," he reminds him. "The one that pulls the ache out of muscles. Or else we're not going to be able to move. We'll look awfully funny charging a tower wincing with every step."

-That- draws a laugh from Seldan, and the talk turns to inconsequentialities. Food is consumed, and more drinks. It is a good two hours before the last of the blotches on Seldan's skin fade into nothingness as if they had never been. Aya is welcomed, should she choose to join, and introductions are made.