4511/tFSoK-The Wolf's Trail-2

tFSoK-The Wolf's Trail-2
Date of Scene:	04 September 2016
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	The curse is broken. The quad scaling greatsword of legend returns.
Cast of Characters:	Priscilla, Reiji Arisu, 707, Lezard Valeth, 560, 974

---

Priscilla has posed:
    For reasons that equate to 'there's no reason to do otherwise', people are lead to the same room as before; the unfinished business deeper into the mountain rock, at the end of one of many spiralling tails of new construction that were never rendered a purpose; something probably 'off the blueprints', so to speak. It amounts to little more than being dark, grey, cold, and admirably muffling sound through many layers of rock and gigantic walls. It almost feels drafty, but that'd be ridiculous, seeing as how far down it is, and with a total lack of windows.

    Artorias, sat almost slumped forward in an especially shadowy corner, like an ominous, metal bird of prey, probably adds to that illusion, because his slow breathing echoes like it shouldn't and carries what feels like much further than it should, somehow feeling like wind moving through a cave. The sword has been properly affixed this time, raised roughly ten feet off the ground (because otherwise it'd be touching it), on vertical bars supporting the wings of its crossguard with titanite rests, and doubly supported by a set of chains, that look like they're there for dramatic effect, until one notices they can actually be pulled to raise it up or down.

    In the clear space between the point and the floor, a kind of stalactite-like deposit has formed, as if dripped from the blade, that makes it look as if the sword has been there for decades, though it is the same pseudo-crystalline black-grey gunk as the rest of the stuff pitted into the metal. That's new.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
Reiji has had a busy week.

    Most of his time has been occupied with restoring a world that is presently in a crisis not unlike that which Lordran was so recently afflicted. But he was able to spare some time to secure a certain item: a soul replete with humanity, enshrined in the great church of the Undead Parish. Perhaps it could be seen as sacrilege, taking a holy relic from its monstrance and putting it in such danger. But, in Reiji's opinion, the restoration of an even holier item was well worth the risk.

And so, with permission from relevant officials, he's brought it: the soul of a long-dead Firekeeper, a beacon of light that draws deep upon the darkness.

    Reiji arrives in the darkened room with a strange, glowing censer- one with a hinge on one face, not unlike that of a hooded lantern. "Knight Artorias," he says, peering at the strange growth dripping from the sword. "...It seems there's been a... development. But I've brought what we discussed."

"Let's hope it works."

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
If you asked Xiaomu, she'd probably profess that there are any number of places she'd rather be than here, or things that she'd rather be doing. (Not all of them involve anime, or video games, or her other hobbies, surprisingly enough.) She'd figured the situation in Anor Londo was basically dealt with, and that there wasn't that much she still needed to trouble herself with; let Reiji handle the boring stuff.

Then he asked *her* to come along on this particular trip.

Eh, sure, why not? She's content to wait a LITTLE longer to finish that series about the hikikomori who got reincarnated in an RPG-esque fantasy world, savor the experience a little longer. Never mind that Priscilla's world has many of the trappings of an RPG in its own right - more action than turn-based, but still.

"Sir Artorias," she nods to the knight as the sage fox enters behind Reiji. She also spares a moment to wave to Priscilla (if she's here) and the other members of the group (as they arrive) ...

Then parks herself out of the way, leaning cautiously against a wall and giving the stalagmite-ish accumulation of whatever-that-gunk-is a wary look. "Is that part of what you need me here to deal with, Reiji?"

Lezard Valeth has posed:
"Of course it has developed. Why would it do any less?"

The other major player in this happens to be the type who doesn't ask permission. Or beg forgiveness. There is a wave of light, a circle forming into a familiar teleportation magic. A familiar shadow appears within it, and soon Lezard Valeth appears, his cloak sweeping out behind him in the aftermath of the arrival. In one hand is the Manus Catalyst, master brand of the Abyss and formerly the rod of rulership of its progenitor.

In the other, he holds by a handle a complicated-looking orrery-style assembly forged of Titanite, arrayed around a massive chunk of chalky, congealed mass. The similarity to a Purging Stone is absolutely valid, the object looking like such a thing magnified many times over, larger than a man's head.

"I see you have brought your part... And I have brought mine." He states. "This will serve as the shell of the proxy you have supplied, which will be installed into a more... considerable vessel later."

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
A quest to restore a sword that's been corrupted beyond all imagining. And by the Abyss, no less. Shirou gets the willies just thinking about that place... he's very glad they probably won't be returning there. Probably. Hopefully.

    He shivers a bit more when he gets a good look at the blade of the Abysswalker... and looks away from it to the rest of those gathered here. Most of them he recognizes. But Shirou?

    Mmh. A year older, and now wearing his fine suit of shining, well-polished plate mail with new confidence and familiarity. It doesn't even encumber him anymore.

    As a sword specialist of SORTS, he's here because he might have some useful insights to the team.

    "To think Lordran's come so far in just a few years, seeing a blade this... tarnished reminds me of how screwed the world was. We can actually devote time to something crazy like purifying this weapon now!"

    A thing they'd be hard-pressed to do while scrambling to deal with the Flame...

    For now, Shirou focuses his gaze on Artorias' weapon, trying to analyze it.

Carna (974) has posed:
    The specificity of Carna's skillset precludes her from contributing much here. But she has brought Enark along because he's a wizard or something and does healing magic (or 'Restorative Murmurs' and also poisonous ones), so maybe he can contribute something here. Or maybe not. But either way, their combined contributions probably amount to 'not much'. Neveretheless, as others arrive, and Enark wanders his way in, he takes in the sword suspended in the air with dripping/solidifying gunk, and says, "Oh! Oh!" He raises his hands as if about to make some dramatic statement, then realizes he honestly has no idea what to say about the sword, the man in the corner, or the congregation of unusual people here, so simply folds his hands together inside his sleeves and closes his mouth. He opens it again briefly to say, "I've brought water from the River Styx, blessed by a Peacemaker. If you need it for... Washing the blade off or some such." He gestures helplessly.

    When he knows more, he'll say more. Until then, not much point flapping his gums.

    Carna, on the other hand, gets up from where she was crouched in a corner opposite Artorias, and drags a bag towards the center of the large chamber. She hears that Reiji has brought something pre-arranged, and so has Lezard. Shirou's mention have finally having the TIME to contribute to cleaning the sword continues to reinforce for Carna that this is a world that was in dire need of mending and now is on its way to recovery.

    Can that happen for Lumiere too? Can you mend what doesn't exist anymore? She doesn't know, but she made the attempt to contribute here as others have contributed where she comes from. Unfortunate that it appears to have been for naught. "I had brought things which might be used as substitute vessels for the curse, if it was determined that such shall be attempted." Then she looks down at the bag. "But it appears that Sir Valeth has already handled that aspect." Something inside the sack is moving sluggishly, but Carna draws a knife and stabs it several times until it stops.

    Then she just stands there with something dark dripping from her blade and watches the others as though nothing happened.

Priscilla has posed:
    Priscilla is camping out, being a big splotch of white to Artorias' big splotch of black, in the opposite corner. Pretty much like last time. She's mostly only here to actually know what happened, as the person who should be responsible for knowing these things, since she doesn't /expect/ much in the way of mischief to happen. It's been a while since she's seen Xiaomu, but she is hardly disposed to being cold in reception to Reiji's trusted partner.

    "Though it is crucial that those who suffered for it, finally be allowed to moveth on, it is equally of import that it never be forgotten in its entirety." She responds to Shirou. Nobody living here is in any danger of forgetting, that's for sure, but in dozens of future generations, who knows? There's one advantage to immortal rulers; they preserve firsthand accounts.

    She looks a little dumbly at Carna stabbing a sketchy looking sack; something Artorias mirrors somewhat, save that his face is basically, for all intents and purposes, a shadow. "That mythology is a little beyond me." He admits to Enark, despite Styx being a common as hell name, even if represented vastly differently, from world to world. "But then if I were an expert, I would not be in your debt as I am, would I?"

    Priscilla seems to immediately recognize what Reiji had brought, left in the parish so long ago, by another Ciaran's request. The two of them seem leerier of what Lezard brought. Despite its associations with the high scholarship of the Grand Archives being evident in its pseudo-celestial design, the unspoken thought passes between them of what went into crafting the malleable stone usually associated with Carim's human sacrifices.

    Shirou is in for a trip. The sword is not all that much younger than the world at this point, with the fraction of time it didn't exist slowly, proportionally diminishing. There is not a trace of actual iron or steel or any other mortal metal to be found in it, which explains how it has held out so preposterously long over time. The techniques that went into making it would require massive, industrial machinery to try and emulate, though it was clearly done by a blacksmith and over the /equivalent/ of a flame. Lastly, the entire thing radiates a kind of divine power that is exceptionally uncommon; one that challenges all of the wielder's abilities and virtues to make use of, though whatever its 'holy' nature, he can't tell exactly what it blessed for, as most of it seems to have been corroded by the primitive hunger that clouds its nature and eats away at its exterior.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    "Yeah," Reiji says to his LOYAL PARTNER and favoritest fox in all the world. "That's the sword. I've been looking into a way to fix it for a while now, but..." He glances at the censer, "This turned out to be about the most reliable method I could think up. Problem is, the darkness in that sword is about as thick as I've seen outside the Abyss, so who knows what'll happen when we draw it out."

    He looks to Lezard, then-- and nods. "That's the apparatus then? Looks... Complicated." But the exact mechanisms behind it may actually make sense, if he spent some time studying it. The Arisu family is all about seals, after all! You might say there are a number of seals in Japan that are the result of entire lifetimes worth of Arisu work.

    "Sorry, I didn't expect the sword to start *dripping* when we stopped watching it," Reiji answers the archmage, and lifts the censer to his device. "Alright. You want to do this, or should I?" Knowing Lezard's SQUISHY WIZARD TENDENCIES, Reiji's already pretty sure what the answer's going to be. But. "You know that thing better than I do," his eyes flit pointedly towards the device. "Where were you planning on installing this in, anyway?"

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
Shirou's gaze hardens the longer he views that weapon. "Geeze. I came hoping I'd be able to give some information on this thing that might help... but something this great's beyond me. Not even sure I should try tracing it." What a troublesome weapon, for all of its unquestionable might and majesty. "We're in for a rough time! That much I'm sure of."

    Thinking about tracing this thing gives him a bit of a headache. Even if he did trace it... he's not keen on touching that curse...

    He does look away at the sound of burlap being stabbed, among other squishy and ripping noises... and ends up going white-faced with clear ALARM in his eyes at what Carna's up to. "What were you just stabbing?!" The idea of sacrifices to power great magic isn't unknown to him. Even if it's just some unfortunate animal where it's morally no different from killing to eat if one plays their cards right... he dislikes the field.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Xiaomu nods to Reiji, then looks again at the mountain of spiritual guano that's been seeping out of the suspended sword. Lezard's arrival does not go unnoticed, even as much as she'd love to ignore him with such force as to expunge him from existence; he's done some useful things, at least when he's not busy working with some of the worst people she's ever met in the Multiverse. Shirou and Carna get a somewhat warmer acknowledgement (one which Xiaomu obviously wishes she could take back, after Carna stabs the bag's occupant like that), but her attention is pretty much focused on the sword.

"So, do you need a warding circle to trap the corruption or whatever that is?" the sage fox asks - mostly directing her question to Priscilla and Reiji. Sure, Reiji knows warding circles and the like, but Xiaomu can lay one down faster than he can while leaving him open to do more direct and deliberate work on whatever gets trapped inside. That is, after all, the core mechanic behind one of their primary joint techniques.

Still, if the taint is thick enough to make a mound which is potentially *bigger than the sword it's coming out of* ... the source of it is probably something that's still as close to 'alive' as these things get, and most likely inside the sword proper. That could get a little too interesting for comfort.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard gives the foxgirl a sideways glance, simply shrugging at her presence. He tolerates her presence, it seems. Not like he has a reason to attempt to disinclude her, it's undoubted that she might just be as useful as Reiji in the current situation... And he's not one to object to getting things done when they work out in appropriate ways.

The attention paid to the complicated Purging Stone apparatus simply brings a small smile to his face. Those who know the fabrication of such things know precisely the kind of work that was undertaken to engage this object. Perhaps this is just a very... visible demonstration that the Necromancer of Midgard is willing to undertake operations that others would shy away from to resolve a problem.

The presence of Emiya Shirou, however, is a surprise. He looks to the sword-mage and arches an eyebrow, smiling towards him with unmitigated amusement. "Well well, I should have known the presence of a powerful weapon would draw you here. By all means, Magus Shirou, attempt to understand the nature of this weapon. Consider it, perhaps, an object lesson?"

He turns and looks towards Reiji, Enark, and the foxgirl. "I believe our separate rituals will be capable of working together. The water you have brought would likely would work very well in Arisu's work."

He looks to Reiji specifically, then. "The initial phase of linking the Curse to the soul you have brought would be best undertaken by you and your associate. Once complete, I will transfer the Soul into this device to keep it contained and intact, lest the curse overwhelm even such a puissant and suitable soul."

He shrugs, then. "For something of this scale, I would use something a bit more... Elaborate, I believe. The completed work would result in a stable core that is suffused with the Curse that infests the blade. Should everything work properly, I will then undergo additional work in order to ensure it remains protected and contained. It would bode ill were ignorance or foolishness result in its release, would it not?"

Carna (974) has posed:
    Enark's expression brightens at the confirmation that his contribution may provide some meaningful benefit after all. It had only been a guess, but based upon his examination of the poisonous creature from those caves, he gleaned that the magic of Lord Tharmas was effective even on things from other worlds. And curses are undoubtedly a 'corruption' that can be washed away using the arcane knowledge of the Silent Lord of Water.

    "Oh, yes! Certainly! Whatever I can do to render aid. Just let me know when to step in!" He looks around to Reiji, and Xiaomu, and Shirou, and Priscilla, and Artorias, and intentionally skips over looking at whatever Carna is doing with that bag, and then back to Lezard!

    Then he pauses and looks back to Xiaomu. He notes the animal ears and motif, and asks, "Are you related to Sir Staren by any chance?"

    Look, he has been alone in a tower for a very long time, the number of people with animal ears he has met is very small.

    Carna, meanwhile, looks towards Shirou and says, "Part of something I found in a sewer choked with sludge and the remains of the Dead. It was part of a joint organism with multiple bodies fused together. It appeared to have enough of them to spare one as a disposable vessel for the curse, so I cut one off."

    Whatever is in the bag continues to move on occasion, but only in minor ways. Apparently being stabbed repeatedly isn't enough to end it. Resilient creature. And if it's basically DESIGNED to be a hollow facsimile of a body, a homunculus of sorts that is a mere extremity of a larger creature, then it might contain strange magics placed inside of it readily. Or maybe it will just turn into an even more awful monster.

    Can't tell without trying, and what's magus/wizard hubris without experimentation with potentially terrible things, right?

Priscilla has posed:
    "Trace?" Artorias looks up, asking the obvious with mild curiosity, having to do with weapons and all. He's, quite imaginably, never heard the word in the context Shirou likes to use it. Most of the purification talk is Greek to him to. He's made his legend by slaughtering everything corrupt in the name of the gods, not trying to fix it. He'd resigned not even to fix himself.

    The sound of armour clicking is more indicative of uncomfortable shifting when Lezard so readily goes to the details, but Priscilla seems a little less moved. Firekeepers had long ceased to be a religious occupation when she came back, afterall, and the most she's seen out of them is sacrifice. What's a little more? "A Firekeeper is selected for her duty by the infinite Humanity that gnaws at her being. Humanity wishes to be with Humanity. I cannot discourage the idea for its practicality, nor reprimand it with any severity. It is, perhaps, where it is best suited."

    Unspoken is something else. Not her world; not her problem. The newly minted Queen of Gods is to look after her own people, not every last person in the Multiverse. The good for Lordran that she believes Knight Artorias could potentially do with this sword, heavily outweighs her reservations about nebulous lives that may or may not have been lost to the sorcerer. In all honesty, those of Lordran have long not been above the use of grim means that had been outlawed in ages past. She no more feels the urge to rebuke him than, well, any especially useful man from Carim.

    She does, oddly however, have an unfortunate amount of experience with piles of dead bodies fused together. The, technically difficult to argue, logic behind it, gets a slow frown from her. "Where art thou still continuing to find these? I had thought the type greatly expunged from the urban areas." Sounding like this ritual is going somewhere, Artorias gets off his butt and starts shoving benches and racks aside, loudly scraping on the floor to clear space. Magic circles are a Thing here, so he seems to be guessing generously for floor space.

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Well, no reason to let Artorias do *all* the work; Xiaomu watches for a couple of seconds, then goes over to help move furniture and stuff aside, making sure as best she can the open space is centered on where the sword is dangling ... or at least, as close to 'centered' there as the arrangement of the chamber permits. She'd want to center her own circle on the heap of corruption, but then, she's not the one who knows what we're doing or exactly how to do it.

That's Reiji's job. He's the one who wanted her along, after all.

Emiya Shirou (560) has posed:
Oh, someone's asking. Shirou looks over his shoulder... then back at Carna... and makes a disgusted face. "... Do we really need to use something that nasty?" He murmurs uncertainly. Well, there's a lot worse things that they could be using for this...

    Yeeeeaaah. He looks away. And instead holds a hand up, elbow bent... "Trace, on." Mumbles the amber-eyed redhead. Black 'light' flows from his palm outwards, to fill an invisible mold of a very short blade. Almost instantly, the black Yin sword he's fond of's forged into existence, the shiny black blade's flat engraved with a strange thin hexagonal pattern. Shirou twirls the sword around in his hands in a miniature kata of strikes!

    "Replicating any weapon I see's the only thing I'm any good at." He explains as if this is no big deal.

    Lezard might notice that his efficiency's jumped up sharply since they've last met. He's seriously breaking equivalent exchange there, even more than before. The projection didn't involve a bigger lightshow than absolutely necessary, either.

    But he answers Artorias and Lezard at once by simply saying, "Are you kidding? I can study this for hours and it wouldn't do any good. You're looking at a relic from the dawn of history here. Like I can replicate anything this grand."

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    "Hmn, alright then," Reiji answers Lezard. As... distasteful as his methods are, Reiji can't deal with dispensing justice *right this minute* without also jeopardizing everything they've done so far. Another thing to file away for later-- but that file is starting to get pretty fat, anymore. One of these days, Lezard!

BANG, BOOM, STRAIGHT TO THE MOON!

    "That's about the short of it," he says to Xiaomu, then. "Get a circle ready. We need to be able to contain the abyss when it leaves the blade-- and to get it to take the bait." He lifts the little door on the side of the censer, revealing a smoky, grey-white mote within. It looks... Like a strange, fuzzy ball. Like a scrap of lint that's gotten too unruly for its own good. But when you look closely, you can see it for what it is-- a soul surrounded by a numberless swarm of gnawing, black sprites.

    He glances back to Enark, "The dark is like the deep sea. I'm not sure whether your magic can help contain it, precisely, but you can at least help mitigate whatever damage it might cause. Stay alert." Then, to Shirou. "Emiya, don't look too hard at this thing. Those who stare into the abyss-- well, you know the rest."

    "Alright, then. Let's get this started." With that, he extracts the soul from its cradle, his own spiritual awareness expanding to fill the room. His voice rises as if in a trance, the ground underneath him glowing with a faint, blue light. "Soul of the Mind, key to life's ether," he beckons, the mote in his hand seeming to billow at his words. "Soul of the Lost, withdrawn from its vessel. Manifestation of disparity, elucidated by fire. Come before me, darkness beyond the reach of flame."

    "Come, let my will be granted, that the world might be mended." his voice rises, the light beneath expanding, patterns emerging from the glow. The artful glyphs of the Far East etch themselves on the ground as Reiji lays the foundations of the sealing circle. It'll be up to Xiaomu to do the rest- and to maintain its energies. "Inhabit now this mote of castoff ash, and dwell now within a new form!"

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
The sage fox finishes helping move furniture (somebody else give the poor knight a hand with whatever still needs moving?) and moves back to Reiji's side. Xiaomu doesn't call out anything like she would normally; she doesn't want to interrupt anyone's incantations, least of all Reiji's.

But the butt of her staff thumps against the floor, the rings hanging from her staff's headpiece jingle, and Xiaomu holds her right hand out, interlacing her will with Reiji's to take up the 'frame' of his sealing circle, and to direct her mana into it to energize and sustain said frame, the palm of her upraised hand shining as she channels her power through it.

Even if what he was saying about 'don't look into the abyss' wasn't directed to her, she's heard the expression a few places and knows the wisdom of the adage pretty well on her own.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
"Oh? Then I suppose you hunger does have limits." Lezard replies to Emiya. "Still, one cannot deny that you have improved to some degree, Magus Shirou. We will see how far you can still go."

Lezard then turns to Reiji and simply smiles. He knows that look. He always seems to be just out of reach, doesn't he?

He does, however, arch an eyebrow at the incantation used.... But says nothing. He stands back, allowing the Enark and the pair of Shinra agents work their part.

Soon, it will be time for his.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Enark watches attentively as the ritual begins, but not knowing his place in it, or what to do, he holds off on forcing an improvised addition into the mix. That is very important, because the Blue Scholars were taught that reciting the things that were once spells and are now merely Murmurs of spells cast long ago, is not aided by foolish attempts at improvisation. One does not adapt what is already dead and echoing up through the ages. One does not change what is already gone and heard now only as a faint memory of what once was. One does exactly as those before have done, because it is not possible to do otherwise. Trying results in disaster.

    Making something new, some new spell, new application, new whatever, means starting from scratch. That is why the buffer against poison when dealing with that ancient dragon had to be built upon an existing sample, examined, studied, and then something new derived from it. Enark could not just take a general-purpose poison cure and make it stronger. Because the curative magic he would be casting was already cast long ago, and he is merely repeating it.

    So this? This here? Watching Reiji and Lezard and Xiaomu work unfamiliar magics? This is not the situation to try to force reanimated spells into the mix. This is a situation to wait until he is told it is time to do otherwise. But he does get the bottles of near-black water ready, at least. Dredged from the depths of the plane known to some among the now-dead Living as 'Hades', it cures the Dead of their wounds when distilled. This is not very distilled, but it is blessed. And perhaps its greater purity combined with that blessing will make it more potent than the sips of restorative elixir Lanterns carry.

    Carna has nothing further to contribute beyond standing by with knives in hand. Like Shirou, her presence here is most likely 'incase something goes wrong, they will be the ones to stab it'.

Priscilla has posed:
    Curse the eternal facelessness of what seems to be everyone important in this country. Shirou would be then able to tell what Artorias thinks of summoning weapons on a whim. That isn't something that exists in any form here, save for shaping magic ever so briefly into swung blades; hardly actual, physical things. "Though you do so at the denigration of your talents, some part of me feels pride for what you still see of what this old blade once was."

    He nods some form of quiet appreciation for the much smaller foxgirl helping with the heavy movement, though he seems a little too, well, chivalrous, to let a 'young' lady do a large part of the work. Instead, he seems more interested in the appearance of a rather large magical circle; traditionally associated with groups of powerful clerics. Priscilla has seen the two work their Buddhist mojo before, and so is less fascinated, so much as reassured.

    The incantation is all new to her, however. She wonders, silently, where Reiji gets the words from. It reminds her of the recitation of a miracle, but somehow halfway made up on the spot. To either that, the circle, the soul's proximity, or some combination of two or three, the blade reacts, or more accurately, what gnaws at it. With such bright showings of new, fresh power, connected to multiple sapient beings replete with powerful spiritual essence, it would seem the Dark within the sword is easily willing to abandon the worn and corroded holy relic.

    The unsightly crystalline black deposits shatter open, partially dripping as some oily liquid that vanishes once it hits the floor, but mostly exploding outwards into a whirling cloud of what could be considered smoke and fire if viewed through a photo negative. Little white points of light can be seen circling somewhere in the morass, always arranged in pairs. It isn't exactly long before the chaos finds its new target, ramming at the walls of its temporary prison more out of haphazard movement than direct attempt to escape, like containing a bomb blast. It surges in towards the soul, which begins to expand and flicker with tendrils of white and black much like the fast-forward expansion of a star through its lifetime.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    In Reiji's defense, he did do his research. The chant in question is one that is... Not entirely original. The history of Firekeepers goes back quite a while, after all. Perhaps not as long as the history of the gods, but cetainly as far back as Gwyn's attempts to link the fire. They have their own prayers- their own miracles. They just needed to be... massaged a bit, to draw Dark OUT without necessarily bringing it into the incanter.

Which is good, because Reiji does not know what effects this much Curse would have on his soul.

    He must retain his composure before the roiling mass of Dark. It swirls, spiralling outward like the birth of a nightmarish anti-sun. Reiji's eyes tighten before the maelstrom, holding the flickering flame of the Firekeeper's Soul into the worst of it. He feels the darkness grope at his outstretched hand, seeking a way in.

He must remain strong before it, to swathe his body in the light that washes out from his soul.

But he needn't do so for now. Not as long as things proceed as planned. "Lezard! Do it now!"

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
It's probably a safe guess that 'Lezard, do it now' is somewhere on the list of Xiaomu's least favorite phrases, and the fact that it's *REIJI* of all people saying it does little to buff the sage fox's loyalty score, but she's got bigger concerns at the moment.

Like the supernatural taint that wants out, now that it's been liberated from the sword. The corruption lashes against the perimeter of the warding circle, and Xiaomu's face twists in an indignant sneer of defiance. Her upraised hand shines brighter, flaring -

"SENKO YOUJUTSU: KIMON FUUJI!!"

And she interposes her own will, her own framework and power, through the shape that Reiji first laid down. The taint was trying to break through one seal already; now it has *TWO* to deal with, two seals trapping it with a perfectly appetizing Firekeeper soul to engulf.

It's possible that she's looking at rather a lot more than even a sage fox ought to stare at. Xiaomu kinda doesn't give a shit right now, though; as far as she's concerned, if that thing gets loose it's a danger to Reiji in particular (since the primary ward was his, and a demon which busts out of a warding circle tends to go after whoever trapped it in there first) and she ain't having NONE of that.

He can make it up to her later, when they have the leisure for Xiaomu to replenish her power reserves with his assistance.

Lezard Valeth has posed:
The process, to Lezard's view, is working /precisely/ as expected. The nature of the Dark is to consume, to spread uncontrolled in eternal hunger barring the capacity to control such. Thus the eternal danger of the Abyss, for what manner of being has such potency as to be able to harness the entirety of such a yawning chasm of Humanity? Manus, perhaps. But Manus is no more.

And much like his predecessor, Lezard has his own ideas on the nature of the Abyss and what should be done with it. As the blackness spreads and hammers at the barrier, using the potent Firekeeper's Soul as a new nexus... Lezard's hand grips ever tighter on the Purging Core. His other hand extends his staff of office, his two-edged symbol of dominance over the Dark, and he begins to incant. He doesn't need assistance setting up a circle of his own. Inlaying all around the ritual site, burning sigils of black begin etching themselves into the ground, forged of Dark etching. This is not the first time Priscilla has seen similar patterns, but it certainly is the first time it's being done in this /manner/...

"BODY, MIND, SOUL! ALL ARE SHEARED AWAY!" Lezard intones, his voice reverbeating as he begins to harness the full force of his own Will upon the swirling, tainted and accursed Soul... Something he has some experience with working with. As his words ripple outwards, reverberating through the area, the energy begins to grow, pressing down upon the swirling mass within the ritual circle.

"IF TO SERVE THIS PURPOSE I SHALL BE DESPISED, MY BODY SCORCHED AND BLACKENED, SO BE IT! IF TO SERVE THIS PURPOSE I MUST COMMAND FORBIDDEN MAGICS, SO BE IT!" Perhaps it is a measure of Lezard's own unfaltering desire and will to surpass the limits of mortals that this ritual stands, the arcane power behind these words shaped in such a way. How could someone dabble in this level of forbidden sorcery without committing to the tainted depths? No, he is someone who has paid that price... And paid it gladly. Little wonder that he constantly sets those who refuse to take those steps on edge.

"THOUGH MY BODY MAY BE TAINTED, THOUGH MY SOUL MAY BE TAINTED, I IMBUE THEE WITH THOUGHT!" The black circle flares, the energy coalescing about them and beginning to forcibly pull the Firekeeper's Soul from its resting place, drawing it and the maelstrom of Dark that comes with it towards the container, a sphere of overhwelming, deadly Dark.

"I SWEAR AS THE GODS SWEAR, AND BREATHE LIFE INTO THE VOID!" With those final words, the ritual draws the soul-mass physically into the core-vessel designed to help contain the terrible, insane curse. As it is absorbed, there is a crackling, sizzling noise as the Titanite framework shudders, straining to resist the corruption. "Enark! The water!" He calls out to the being. Perhaps anointed with the water, it will calm the tempest enough for the huge mass of Purging Stone (among other things) to contain it and bring it to the /other/ storage Lezard has mentioned...

Carna (974) has posed:
    The last of the Blue Scholars watches in amazement right up until his name is called. Then he leaps forward, pouring forth vials of Styx water. And it is less like water than it is the pieces of souls, eroded and entered into the grand flow of the Underworld. But these pieces have received the blessing of the God of Reason, a being whose laws are Iron-Bound, whose will is Law itself. And if he wills that this river is Water then it is Water. And if he wills that it is capable of soothing the seething flames, the storm of fury, the raging curse that seeks even now to break free of its confines, then It Will Be So.

    Urizen was not the Silent Lord of Water, but of Wind or Air. But the magic of Lord Tharmas, who wielded Water, combined with another Lord of Silence, is half the elemental table in three bottles of soul stuff. And that is enough. The waters pour forth, black and fluid and gaseous and spirit and holy and arcane all at once, and they flow over the frame, they breathe whispers of Absolute Orders into the metal, and they talk down the Curse within, attempting to persuade it, even as the waters try to drown it in a barrier of peaceful calm and floating forever in the Dark Beneath.

    A fragment of their power. Precious little compared to the combined forces of Lezard and Reiji and Xiaomu. But Enark wields these waters to the best of his ability, flowing them along the construct, and making them do as intended.

    That is all he can do. Some here could be called gods themselves. But not him. He is jut a man, meddling with powers he scarcely comprehends. This time, hopefully, that will not be the cause of disaster such that necessitates stabbing or more extreme methods of problem-solving.

Priscilla has posed:
    Were Reiji a lesser man, or really, were he the same and simply not in command of what he is, prepared as he is, and supported by those he is, the answer regarding curse and his soul would involve either something vaguely Lovecraftian, or a ghoulish mockery of a statue. Instead, it seems the Dark wants the Firekeeper's soul first, and him second, as a majority consensus, with a second layer of the Sage Fox's power keeping the rebellious aspects of it free of him, clawing with illusory teeth at the outward surge, and inward crush, of Eastern magic.

    The thing that had previously resembled a mote of dust, now resembles a seething, monochromatic star being born, though the flares and coronas that it exudes are far more sinuous and agile than the real thing should be. Even Artorias stands back at what Lezard pulls out of the figurative skin-bound playbook, leagues beyond anything the heretics and mad men stupid enough to dabble with the Dark in ages past had achieved (before he had smote them). He reaches, reflexively, to his collar, and finds his fingers curling around nothing.

    In much the way as is usual for this place, the roiling mass of Humanity surges into the vessel of sacrifice prepared beforehand, suffusing it with its ghastly aura as the chalky surface blackens, and faded stains move as living things across its surface, unfortunately much like human hand prints pressing against the other side of a fogged window. The apparatus seems as if it will come apart, but somewhat like quenching a fine blade, the water of the River Styx, and the voice of its master, seems to bring some form of piece to the ever-hungry, ever-desperate Dark within, binding it with the old promises of the Firekeeper whose traces it has eagerly subsumed.

    When the echoes quiet and the runes and circles fade, Lezard is left with an exceptionally unnerving ornament to use as a conversation piece somewhere, except probably too dangerous to sit on a table. The gargantuan sword left behind now . . . it looks pitted and corroded as before, as if worn down by uneven grinding in some liquid form, but free of that light-absorbing black, its old shine stands out, and the bevel of the edge blooms with a faint and faltering, luminous blue.

    Artorias seems almost too hesitant to move, but it's his job to do so, after all. Sooner or later, faintly clattering footsteps hit the floor, and the knight's hand touches the hilt of the sword as if expecting a hot stove, and then after a moment, finally clutches it properly, withdrawing the massive blade from its rest, and holding it up to look so that its point nearly scrapes the ceiling. "Though wounded, to see that this sword yet lives is . . . it means very much to me. There will be much to do to care for it but. I am in your debt." There is then a long, properly knightly bow.

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    While Xiaomu may not particuarly like the idea of relying on the likes of Lezard, the fact is that the wizard has proven... dubious, but not unreliable. At least in this. Not that Reiji won't immediately try to book his ass under other circumstances; just that for now, practicality demands that they work together.

After all, he's certain Lezard has been watching him just as much as Reiji's been watching back.

(And not in the way Xiaomu likes to write about.)

    Fortunately, between Xiaomu's magic, Lezard's artifact and Enark's waters, the exorcist manages to get out more or less scotch free. The Firekeeper's soul is consumed by the dark, and swept away into Lezard's bizarre orrery, to be placed in some... other receptacle, later.

Reiji will need to discover exactly what that IS in short order, however.

    "...That's that," he says with a huff as the last motes of darkness drain into the artifact. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the weak, gentle glow of Artorias' great blade reignite, and a slight smile works its way across his face. "Nicely done, everyone. It looks like we managed to save the patient."

    Reiji inclines his head respectfully in deference to Artorias' noble bow. "You're quite welcome, Wolf Knight. I'm just glad that everything appears to have worked out... More or less." The loss of the Firekeeper's eternal existence is... not something Reiji is entirely happy with. But it's not as though he can deny the results. "At least now the sword can be made truly whole again. We've excised the cancer, now is time for healing to begin."

Xiaomu (707) has posed:
Contrary to popular belief, Xiaomu doesn't ship EVERY guy she runs into with each other; Reiji's myriad fictitious counterparts may therefore be most relieved that they'll never be subjected to the depravities which may be perpetrated by Lezard's fictitious counterparts. (Or vice versa, but she doesn't care what Lezard might think about it.)

Actually, all Xiaomu really cares about right now is that the job's been handled. The abyssal taint, or whatever was infesting that sword, has been contained long enough to be trapped more permanently in Lezard's artifact ... and in all seriousness, the sage fox is sufficiently exhausted not to even make jokes about Lezard sealing something in his ball. Once the sealing is completed, Xiaomu lets the ward disperse and leans heavily on her staff, wishing she'd brought snacks this trip.