awashlogs | [ Closed ] May Catch-all!

[ Unfortunately, he mistakes her questioning grunt to be about the curious setup of this whole thing rather than what he particularly wants to do. Though to be fair, he’s not sure himself. It’s not like he’s out here specifically to fulfill a quest, especially as neither of them are the right color for the manticore stuff anyway, but this… ]

Do you recall a man named “Paracelsus von Hohenheim”?

[ The fact that she’s not from Chaldea is clear enough, but he can’t discount her knowing the guy in certain other contexts… ]

[She laces her gloved fingers together in thought.

In the sense that Archer knows him, or, indeed, the sense that the version of herself that materialized in Chaldea would know, that Paracelsus is a stranger to her. Even her own story is not the same as the singularity that plunged that version of London into treacherous fog.

But the name isn't completely foreign. She learned enough about the world in her travels before madness completely possessed her. A physician, wasn't he?

She nods, then:] Uhh. [Go on.]

Then you are aware that he was attempting to create the very same stone which the absent owner of this workshop must have intended to do.

[ He frowns. He’s not entirely aware of how much she knows of the man still, but it does bring up some troubling implications about this setup. ]

It could be that our connections to that man might have caused this workshop to manifest. For myself, because of his contract with our Master. But for you…

[ He trails off, unsure how to really say it. He doesn’t know magecraft all that intimately, but he is aware that the stone Paracelsus has constructed himself can revive the dead. And given her very nature… ]

[Archer is certainly tactful, isn't he? She shoots him a look, lips tightened into a slight, less than pleased pout. Yes, of course she understand what he's trying to say.

If it's some sort of mutual connection that brought them to this, though, just what does he expect to do with it? Does he really want to try and complete the project?]

Uu-uuh... [Some questions are better left unanswered, in the end. Berserker doesn't seem completely convinced that this is something they should take up for themselves, but, eventually she sighs and looks to the table.

Grunting expectantly, she holds out the palm of and shakes it, inviting more information. Go on, go on; what are they supposed to do?]

[ Completing the project is absolutely on the table, despite his reluctance, if only because defying the Town’s meticulously crafted scenarios like this tends give him more grief than not. It’s clear enough that they’re meant to do some other quest, but she doesn’t need to get involved in this nonsense.

…Does she? ]

Oh! Er…

[ Just how are they supposed to—oh, right. He’s still got the book. He gingerly lifts that heavy thing from the podium so that they both can peer into its secrets. In a grand and flowing script, the book indicates that their bubbling brew is missing a few key ingredients: things like hair and teeth and iridescent wings, claws and horns, even the occasional bit of foliage. Whereupon the entire mixture should be brought together with a bolt of lightning.

Totally doable.

After a quick skim, Tristan turns to her with a frown. ]

[When he lifts the book so they can both read it at the same time, Berserker shuffles over obediently to read it with him.

Once they’ve both had time to finish, she groans in resignation, her shoulders dropping. She recognizes that expression. In the end, that’s what they were drawn here to do, isn’t it?

She picks up a knife and a bottle of something from the table, preparing for it all by gathering energy from their surroundings and into the locus at the tip of her horn.]

Edited 2019-05-31 15:30 (UTC)

[ So she was necessary to this whole enterprise…but at what cost? A little flower left lost and alone at the edge of the forest? He can’t help but feel suspicious.

Still she seems resolute. ]

Yes…

[ He sighs, already tossing a few of the nearby ingredients into the cauldron, which responds with a dramatic puff of smoke. Really…was alchemy always this ostentatious? ]

Perhaps it is better to simply finish this sorry business as quickly as possible.

Uhhhh...

[Berserker stares at the smoking concoction with a rather skeptical expression after he throws the ingredients in. It really is shady, isn't it?

She's slower to act than he is, however, scrutinizing the book in front of them before staring down the ingredients. She waves her hand; they all look the same.] Huhh. [Berserker dumps a handful of what should be ground bones but could just as easily be crushed chalk into the boiling liquid.]

[ Well, it’s not like he’s much of an expert in potions and chemicals anyway. Not a lot of this stuff’s labeled to begin with, and maybe some key ingredients are even missing, but he takes a step back when the concoction changes hue once more. According to the book, it means it’s ready for that finishing touch.

He pulls out his harp, ready to cast evade on her the moment the lightning hits. ]

This is it, then.

U-uuh. [Berserker nods. She knows better than to deactivate the limiters on her powers for something like this, but even with that knowledge, she hesitates before bringing Bridal Chest aloft, the orb that contains her core processor thrumming slightly.]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH! Streaks of hot green light cast down around them from above, heating the metal of the cauldron until it' reddens, until more steam floats from the liquid in the pot. Whether their efforts are successful or not remains to be seen, but the alchemy has been thoroughly struck by electricity. It's probably a good thing they're in a clearing, too, or she might have just started a forest fire.]

[ Whoa.

Tristan can feel the surge of power in the air, whipping his hair about as the cauldron bubbles violently in response to that lightning strike. Then his vision is clouded over with steam a moment later, causing him to cough amid the strange, alchemic (and he hopes they aren’t poisonous) fumes settling around them.

When the smoke and steam have cleared, she will find Tristan’s hair standing straight up like he’s the bride of Frankenstein himself, little crackles of electricity popping and skipping about the bright column of his red hair.

He…decides to ignore that for the time being, as he slowly approaches the cauldron. Whatever’s inside appears to have evaporated at first glance, but upon closer inspection a mound of what appears to be soil or ashes have settled at the bottom, like dregs in a coffee cup, smelling like fresh rot and loam and decidedly nothing alchemical or mystical in the least. ]

How sad…

[Oh, dear. Is he okay...? Well, he isn't singed, so Berserker figures it's fine. The ozone in the air begins to fade as the static energy surrounding them calms down, the excess returning to her core processor.

Clutching Bridal Chest close to her body almost timidly, she takes a few steps closer until she can just peer over his shoulder. Should she tell him about the hair? Ahhhh....how troublesome.

Seeing the lack of any positive result, she hangs her head with a soft huff.] Uu-uuhh... [It could be her fault. She's not powerful enough, and she really doesn't know that much about alchemy even if she did discover some things about science over her "lifetime."

...She's sorry.]

[ She really is quite powerful, isn’t she? He can see why the Mordred of Chaldea’s so drawn to her.

But he doesn’t even turn to her as she huffs, curiosity having gotten the better of him for the moment as he leans over the lip of that cauldron and reaches inside. He brings up a pinch of their failed experiment and gives it a sniff. ]

How strange.

[ He turns to her with an apologetic smile. He hopes she doesn’t feel altogether guilty about this. They’ve both just sort of stumbled into it, after all. He holds his fingers out to her. ]

Have a sniff. Does it not seem familiar?

[ It’s like good fresh earth, in that it’s a little pungent and acrid and perhaps not appropriate for a delicate lady’s nose. But after a lifetime of questing and adventuring, he finds that he can’t mistake it for what it is. Compost—nice, fresh compost, which is potentially crackling with magic, or that could just be his hair. ]

I have seen such things piled upon the fields where the serfs and villeins of old have toiled.

Uah? [With some trepidation, she comes over to investigate it, leaning close enough to give it a cursory olfactory exploration.

The pungent odor makes her balk slightly in surprise, both a little more and a little less than she expected.]

Woooaoh... [Exciting. Not exactly what they were looking for, but perhaps it's...more practical? She's not really sure what the actual point of creating the Philosopher's Stone might have been. She can't think of those larger ambitions too well.

She glances at Archer, puffing down some of his hair as she grumbles quizzically. Does he think it's safe?]

[ Well, gold and stuff is kind of useless to them anyway. He turns to her with a smile, murmuring his thanks as she tries to fix his hair.

It’ll…probably be okay, he thinks. Pulling away from the cauldron— ]

It might be worth using on those flowers earlier, I think. I cannot guarantee that something strange will not happen…

[ That grimoire certainly isn’t helpful on that score, being more about alchemy than farming and all. ]

But I do not see the harm in bringing a little back. Surely the forest will not seek to harm its own?

[ And those flowers at the edge of the forest are still kind of part of it, right? ]

Mmmm... [Her face scrunches up a little bit, though most of it is obscured behind her bangs. The thought of willingly bringing more of the forest out to the town is a little alarming, but, then again, the trees seem to carry the brunt of the threat.

Well, that should be fine then.] Uu-uuh. [Even if Archer has no skill for gardening, he still ended up helping... maybe he has some acumen after all.

Done with her fussing, she holds her hands out expectantly, having no problem carrying some back to the flowers herself.]

[ Tristan needs a moment to contemplate the fact that he might’ve somehow made himself useful to Fran. It came as a bit of a shock, honestly, but given her expectant look, he quickly fumbles for the cauldron. ]

Yes, of course.

[ He hadn’t thought she’d even take him seriously! ~~Hell he wonders if he should take himself seriously sometimes~~ But he does lean over to scoop out the compost with both hands and deposit it into hers.

There isn’t much, really, but maybe it’s safer for the flowers that way. ]

[He probably shouldn't let it go to his head.]

Uh! [With an exclamation that likely counts as a "thanks," Berserker gathers up the results of their "alchemy experiment" and runs off into the trees again...hopefully in the direction of the town border. The goal of dealing with what's on hand has overridden any other focus she might have had.

Their excursion into the forest might be over for now. But they can always return to hunt the dangers Tristan was after another day, probably?]

[ Closed ] May Catch-all!

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