habenda ratio valetudinis [1/2]

[grandapothecary]

The Royal Apothecary Society operates under a very strict three-part system. Starting with research and development, all the most potent poisons and plagues find their way into the world through Grand Apothecary Putress’s hands -- once these are perfected, they’re delivered to their targets via vial, syringe, catapult, spreader, whatever latest

Comments

[urbecondita]

[There's a new person at the table Putress heads to. Another human, only this one has a sword and shield leaned up against her leg. She's busy gnawing on a plate of beer-battered ribs. Or she was, anyway.]

Hey! What's that for, ugly? What're you-

[Coughing session underway. Please stand by for after-effects. Commencing in three, two, one...]

...Dorsiah? Sis, when'd you get here? We've been worried sick! Aside from Brother, but you know him. He's a sillyhead.

[She appears to have mistaken one of the waitstaff for her sister.]

[grandapothecary]

[What.

[Putress's gaze flickers briefly to the human at "ugly," but cuts off his reply when she goes into fits of coughs. A hidden smile slowly spreads across his face under the hood.]

Excellent infection time. Instantaneous, even.

[The apothecary watches on curiously as the woman prattles on to a confused-looking waiter. After scratching a note on his parchment, he approaches her and speaks as he would to a child (God forbid the child that has to speak to him), gesturing at the waitstaff with bony fingers.]

Hallucinating, are you, human? Is this young man your sister?

[urbecondita]

[She holds up a hand. Hold on a sec, be riiiight with you.]

Hang on, Dorsiah. YOU need to fill me in on what you've been up to, but I gotta handle this first. Okie? Awesome. Thanks!

[It must be noted that said waiter will not be sticking around. He's gone as soon as Leileann turns her attention onto Putress.]

Huh? Oh, hi, Vernon. Of course that's Sis! Stop being so silly. I'm not hallu... hallucinating stuff.

[grandapothecary]

[Amused, Putress humours her, and waits patiently at the young woman's gesture. He ignores the waiter who, by now, must have realised that something was up and barely even registers his hasty retreat -- the apothecary is too intent on the fruits of his labours, and only spares a mutter for the elf.]

Go on, my work won't be interrupted this time.

Now then. Vernon, is it? I'm sure I had no idea.

Can you tell me where, and when we are?

[guiseoftime]

And just what do you think you're doing?

[We have a very comical and possibly oversized gas mask on. Can't surprise the Bronzeflight, Putress!]

[grandapothecary]

[He looks momentarily at the gnomish figure -- he'd considered the disadvantages of being watched by a group of dragons who knew everything, ever -- and replies completely unabashed.]

My work has merely reached its next stages of testing. I will not be long, there's no need to cause a fuss over it.

As of now, it's disappointingly harmless anyway.

[Having said that, Putress idly watches an unknown resident nearby having an animated conversation with the roast pig on the table.]

[nashrath]

[Nashrath gestures angrily at the pig, clearly quite agitated.]

Don't you dare pull that shit with me, how was I supposed to know what field you worked in?

[A pause - then her face twists in fury, apparently at something the pig "said".]

I'LL END SENTENCES IN WHATEVER PART OF SPEECH I WANT, BITCH!

DEATH KNIGHT HUG ATTACK

[illusorylife]

[There is another figure who has been sitting and silent for some time. The cold blue glow and saronite plate mark his calling, meticulous attention to a cup of tea - to the point of borderline obsession with the details of a steamy liquid surface - suggested he might have been trying to fight against the effects of the strain Putress has released into the air.]

[Perhaps he didn't succeed, for as he sweeps to his feet and approaches the seated Putress, arms are wide open and his features virtually transformed by a welcoming smile as one might expect to see in response to the presence of a dear friend or beloved relative.]

Lytalia, it is has been a long road. [He says in cheerful-sounding Thalassian to Putress, the notable echo in so many of his kind's voices oddly absent for a lighter, living tone.] And you are as beautiful as ever, of course.

[He laughs and attempts to unabashedly gather the Apothecary into his arms in a way any good brotherly figure might. Speaking of...]Which only means my brother suffers for nothing in the

HE WAS SITTING DOWN, IT WAS AN INSTANT CRIT

[grandapothecary]

[It was readily apparent to Putress that although they were very entertaining, the effects of this particular strain seemed to have no deadly effect on any of the inn's patrons. He felt a flicker of disappointment, but after all, he wasn't one to be deterred by "failure." Either way, there must be some use for this hallucinogen...

[As the apothecary mused quietly on the possible applications of his latest experiment, the light, cheerful tones of some Thalassian-speaker drifted towards him from somewhere off to his side. His broken grasp on the wishy-washy language made the speaker simply sound as if he were talking gibberish ***...

[Which, would not be altogether unusual here. So Putress thought nothing of it, deep in thought, until the noise was suddenly very close and at his ear. He looked up into saronite plate, and the laughing blood elf who owned it.]

Death Knight. [This was good, yes! A death knight could be used as a parallel for the effects on the Lich King himself, assuming similar characteristics between the two

I only imagine his brother would be proud then horrified.

[illusorylife]

[He has it. Chromie's presence is mostly ignored and Krenyn still smiles as if he's engaged in a family reunion with his beloved sister-in-law in some memory of the past.

But his grip holds his 'sister' far, far too tightly to be considered painless. The advantage of surprise seems to be there for a split second and he aims to use it.]

A pleasant way to greet someone who is happy to see you. But...

[Common. Common now, and it might have bee a hint.]

[Only one of Krenyn's arms lifted away as though at the Apothecary's request. But no, it was lifted and he sought to grab the beak of the mask in hopes of ripping it away. And to be honest, he didn't seem to really care about being gentle here, either.]

We are not about forgiveness either.[The echo is back, the mirth has faded, gone, dead and the smile is twisted as he echoes those fateful words spoken at the Wrathgate.

His voice is almost conversational as he concludes.]

You caused my brother a great deal of guilt by your manipulations. And I won't forget.

They grow up into homicidal hugging machines so fast! *tear*

[grandapothecary]

[Putress's patience quickly wore thin as the grip failed to loosen, as the once-amusing effect on the blood elf's sanity grew merely tiresome, then a downright nuisance. At that moment, it hadn't occurred to him that the strain could have been resisted -- after all, the apothecary tended to see things through to the end...Which normally meant a successful plague-induced death. At that moment, he hadn't suspected that the elf had some motive of his own for his actions...]

That wasn't a request. [As he tried to shift himself, he winced involuntarily, suddenly aware of exactly how tight the grip was. This wasn't a friendly embrace, like the elf's manner supposedly communicated. Unsettled, Putress jerked his head to look warily at the death knight, who had started speaking again...But in a much more familiar tongue. The painful grip loosened somewhat, but he was too focused on the words -- very familiar words indeed -- and the arm reaching for his face, to notice.] What do you think you're...-- !

[It took a split second for him

[corpseknight]

[Where a crow might have the leisure to watch the goings-on and wait for the situation to evolve in his favor, a vulture hasn't the same luxury. Not when ill, not when starving, and this particular "vulture" is in a very bad way; for what is an illness of fits and fevers and hallucinations in the inn's other residents disturbed an already delicate balance in Larkspur's brain. Though as yet the death knight retained his sensibility, it could not be said of much else beyond that ability to reason--and a blind, animalistic hunger

Better late than never!

[illusorylife]

A better meal awaits. Come, Dawnherald.

[The order, for it is no less, cuts across the courtyard as Krenyn exits the Inn. This may very well be too late to stop the afflicted Larkspur from taking a bite or two of orc flesh, though the elven death knight is unaffected by the sight of his partner's mentality.

He could make use of it, that's the point. And he had absolutely NO qualms about two on one.

The ground under Krenyn's feet seems to darken, a small side effect of gathering stores of power. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he isn't out of practice. Unfortunately, at least for Krenyn, he doesn't know how long he'll be able to keep up before he himself succumbs to the infection.]

It's time, Putress.

[It doesn't matter if the Apothecary is visible. Krenyn is sure he can find the Forsaken eventually.]