Scene #9569: Ladies' Night (Wizard ver.)

Owner	Pose
Meresankh	After Lady-Nemesor Nakhtmut has departed in a huff, presumably to make preparations for her temporary 'exile', Meresankh has the departing Elites shown back to the warpgate under the care of an eerily quieted Iseptah. Those who will remain are led by a floating scarab drone through the upper levels of the tomb complex and into a wing of the palace containing Meresankh's workshops and laboratories. Ironically the captured Destroyers are housed in a room usually reserved for study of living creatures; mechanical beings that would defy the Queen's will were so unimaginable to this place's builders that the only secure cells are surrounded by bio-signature readouts (all blank for now) and chemical scanners (likewise). Each windowed cell is also equipped with stasis technology which appears to be holding most of the Destroyers in suspended animation; one 'specimen', however, paces tensely back and forth in a greenish hardlight pen. When Trudy and Lissandra enter it looks at them, and speaks - the first words either Elite has heard from a Destroyer. "Let me out." Meresankh, looking and listening through the valet scarab, speaks up. "Need I remind you that these two are guests under my protection? No harm to them is permitted here. Miss Lissandra, Miss Grimm, I shall be along shortly with additional supplies. Address the scarab if there is anything you require." For now, it's just the two mages (plus the Destroyers) in the lab - where to start?
Trudy Grimm	While she follows the floating scarab 'guide' through Meresankh's tomb-palace, Trudy rifles through the beads and charms hanging from her hip. Eventually, she settles on an oblong bead of smooth brecciated jasper, a vibrant orange-red color shot through with splashes of dark gray. Above her free hand, she produces the rune of protection, Algiz, and infuses it into the stone. This is then offered towards Lissandra, hanging from a leather strap; "Not that I doubt your talents, but one can never be too safe, no?" A similar bead already hangs from her wrist, though the rune is set in malachite, the lines casting a faint blue glow. The uncomfortable matter of Lady-Nemesor Nakhtmut has at least for now been settled. Absently, Trudy hopes the two can work it out before too long. Perhaps the Queen just needs to travel for a while and see what good the Paladins are doing, including for her own people. She files that thought away as the lab's doors slide open. > "Let me out." "In due time, in due time," Trudy flicks her fingers dismissively at the demanding soldier. The fact that it can talk at all isn't lost on her; that's the first time any of these particular Necrons have uttered so much as a syllable; and she got a full sentence! "You're quite unwell, you see, and so it shall be the two of us who will cure what ails you. Now stand still, would you? Ah, do you have a name?" At least it seems like this might be a more minor case; if this uneasy Necron is pacing about and taking orders from Meresankh. It was her understanding that most of those who dwelled in the crypt did no such thing. She places one hand on the spine of her grimoire and, rather than utilize any of the equipment around her, just stares at the Destroyer with her other hand stroking her chin. When it comes to curses, Trudy has often likened it to a tapestry; carefully woven towards a specific goal. Thus to remove a curse, one need only find the 'loose thread' and pull. Such a thread may be carefully hidden within a tight weave, and so finding the weakness of a curse is only the first step.
Lissandra	Returning to the tomb-like environs of Meresankh's- well, Lissandra isn't sure if it's her home exactly, but it's close enough- sees her sliding from 'rest mode' to 'work mode' even just along the walk back from the warpgate in that drone's wake. Her jacket gets shirked, folded and stuffed in her bag, her sleeves get rolled and tucked neatly above her elbows, and she has a thick cloth glove that one might normally assume is for gardening yanked onto her left hand. The glove's twin is tucked into the narrow gap between her funny little toolbelt and her pants, so her right hand is still bare. Lissandra doesn't say anything about the rune when Trudy offers it, but takes it with a gentle little pinch, turns it over in her fingertips, and tucks it into her chest pocket uncritically. "So, Other Witch," she starts to aside to Trudy after arriving in the room with the cells, referencing Schneider's nicknaming in a pleasant-neutral tone, "Do you have a plan, as of yet? If you can simply wave your hands and shatter the curse without identifying it, that would be convenient." She doesn't seem to have her hopes up for such a convenience though, since she's already finishing stretching her shoulders and drawing her wand with a little flip into her gloveless hand, giving the hardlight a little tap with it. Addressing the talkative Destroyer, she fakes a thoughtful hum at the demand. "We might soon, if all goes well. Is there something you are in a hurry to attend to?" It doesn't hurt to get the patient talking, as Trudy seems to also understand. She starts gently swishing her wand, placing little glowing marks on either side of the cell threshhold to help her take whatever diagnostic information she can from beyond the light-barrier. With how primarily mechanical their bodies are, Lissandra can't exactly go the usual route here, but if she can analyze the curse and learn how it's rooted, what its effects and conditions are, and so on, that's something. While she's establishing the diagnostic magic, she doesn't turn to look but speaks back to Meresankh through the scarab. "Noted, thank you. Anything you know about the processes that result in these roboticized bodies would be welcome, to start. Most of my experience on non-biological constructs happens to stem from working on a small handful of spirits and stonefolk, not machines. If nothing else, is there a proper brain in their heads? Ah, and how this 'curse' came to be would be wonderful too, if you know. Even folklore might carry a hint, and I don't know squat about your people's history."
Meresankh	"Now stand still, would you? Ah, do you have a name?" "I am governed by no one. I cannot tell you my name. It is lost." "We might soon, if all goes well. Is there something you are in a hurry to attend to?" The Necron grumbles in evident frustration. "I have a duty. Let me out." Anything you know about the processes that result in these roboticized bodies would be welcome, to start... If nothing else, is there a proper brain in their heads? "Ah, the secrets of the Biotransference. It was not accomplished through Necron technology alone, and was a manipulation of matter, energy, and spacetime through esoteric means, that is: magic as you would know it. Your experience from the other 'side' of such acts will be valuable here. The C'tan spirits that performed the transference did not teach us exactly how, because their wish was that we become their slaves. Knowledge would have meant freedom. I will however direct the archive to retrieve what documents we do have. " Ah, and how this 'curse' came to be would be wonderful too, if you know. Even folklore might carry a hint. "That, I can help you with more," Meresankh says as she finally walks in through the door. "The Destroyer, also styled as Nightbringer, was one of the C'tan, the star-beings who posed as gods to us and offered the grim bargain of immortality for servitude. Its power was a mastery of death and endings. When we rose up and deposed the C'tan, it was one of two that we completely destroyed, alongside the Flayer - whose minions we regretfully encountered in the lower tomb," she explains, briefly conjuring a hologram of the yellow-eyed and blade-fingered horrors. "Both died with curses on their lips, curses which haunt my people to this day." A gesture at the imprisoned Destroyers. "Each drives Necrons to madness of similar stripe, but differing results. Flayed Ones feed upon the living in vain hope of regaining their mortal bodies. Destroyers simply wish to end life altogether." "It is you who are defective for not joining us," the animate Destroyer cuts in. "Be silent!" Magical examination, and contemplation of the results, corroborates Meresankh's story. This curse is enormously powerful - but enormously ancient, and spread across an enormous quantity of subjects. Like a sheet pulled too taut for too long, it may have cracks here and there, flaws to be exploited. This is a different universe, especially since Unification, than it was so many millions of years ago.
Trudy Grimm	> "I am governed by no one. I cannot tell you my name. It is lost." Trudy considers this answer carefully while she examines the metal beast before her. After a moment, she snaps her fingers and raises one finger, "Onuris. Until told otherwise, that's what I'll call you. Do you like it? I've heard that is the name of a war god from far to the South." As appropriate to a 'Destroyer' as anything else, as far as she's concerned. "But we won't be letting you loose for a bit; you see, we also have a duty, and it involves you being in there. So just be patient, hmm~?" > "I have a duty. Let me out." "A little impatient, hmm?" she asides to Lissandra, "First thing's first is obviously to get some idea of what we are dealing with. Of course I cannot just break things without identifying them first, that would be convenient but also terribly irresponsible." > "The Destroyer, also styled as Nightbringer..." The witch slowly circles the caged Necron while Meresankh drops some ancient Necrontyr lore, those faintly glowing green eyes of her never leaving its anxious metallic form. Inwardly, her mood sours a bit. Of course it comes down to power and control and enforcing servitude. Even those who ply the stars are as selfish and greedy as the dark lords she fled from in what others might consider the ancient past. Running her fingers through her beads, she eventually selects a rough-cast bead of pewter, tugging it free. In her other hand, that obsidian knife returns, and she starts carefully scoring a rune into it. Algiz is easy enough to recognize by this point; it's Dagaz that's definitely new to those present, an X closed off on either side. "It would seem you are governed after all, Onuris. Perhaps it has been so long that you no longer notice the will of an ancient slavemaster."
Lissandra	Lissandra doesn't blink at the destroyer's outburst, looking between it and her analytic glyphs while listening to Meresankh. She addresses the queen again before the captive, wondering aloud, "That does help a bit, but there are still several possibilities for the nature of the affliction. Altering the bodies to be more suitable for peace would be straightforward, if not trivial. But we still must split the proverbial hairs regarding whether the curse covers their true selves, or whether it teaches them to be the way that they are. You can remove a curse, cure a source of delirium, but altering their truly held beliefs... That is altogether different." Her tone becomes lower, a bit preemptively tired as she interprets the results from her magic, seemingly just by looking at the slightly fluctuating glyph-lights she made. Lissandra leans on the wall, arms loosely folded with her hands dangling over her elbows, getting a little more comfortable as she looks into the cell and tries to make eye contact with the destroyer. She looks slightly displeased when Trudy volunteers a name for it, let alone one reinforcing its violent behavior, but shrugs the feeling off. Other things take precedence. "... The curse is seated widely, in a way that would be difficult to fully stave off without access to the entire population, and a significantly larger amount of help. Curses tend to be like mold, or maybe lice. You can treat a person individually, but introducing them back into the collective will immediately risk reinfection. Given the complete treatment of such a large group isn't possible here and now, the more realistic options are..." She flicks a finger out in an upside-down point at Trudy. "Anchoring a suppressive effect to an object. Typically, with a cooperative patient, the idea would be to have them carry it, but..." She looks back at 'Onuris' and clicks her tongue. She knows the type that only talks when they think they have to. "We might have to resort to surgical implantation. Even then, they might simply maim themselves to rip it out. The behavioral consensus enforced by the curse doesn't simply go away when the curse does; suppressing it will only give you the opportunity to reeducate them. And going by the absurd timescales you've spoken of, the sheer number of years of this kind of condition would have completely destroyed the original sense of self in a normal person. We might be talking about fighting indoctrination with indoctrination at this point, and that's its own sort of cruelty."
Meresankh	"Onuris. Until told otherwise, that's what I'll call you. Do you like it? I've heard that is the name of a war god from far to the South." The Destroyer grunts with something approaching reluctant, grumpy approval. When Lissandra attempts eye contact, she can never quite get lined up right - it's almost like the Destroyer sees her eyes no differently from the rest of her body, instead of assigning them the immediate symbolic importance that human impulses would. She may as well be a pale fleshy orb in its perception, with how it looks at her. But we still must split the proverbial hairs regarding whether the curse covers their true selves, or whether it teaches them to be the way that they are. You can remove a curse, cure a source of delirium, but altering their truly held beliefs... That is altogether different." Meresankh looks disappointed by the lack of easy magical solutions. "How do you think we could tell which of those is truly the case? Do you have some means of temporarily suppressing the curse, at least while you are here to maintain it?" Lissandra elaborates on the wrinkles to her proposal of a nullifying object, and Meresankh shifts uncomfortably. "I do not... wish to see that happen," she says at the mention of the Destroyers possibly harming themselves. "...What if there were one, very powerful suppressing object? I could confine them to one of the tomb-cities, within which they may be free to move and live, and which houses some emanation to manage the curse." She sounds perfectly happy with the idea of building a prison city.
Trudy Grimm	"That was my thought as well," Trudy responds to Lissandra without looking up; "With the Dawn Rune, I hope to try and rekindle a sense of self. 'Inner light' is one meaning of Dagaz, after all. And again, Algiz, to act as a protective ward." She raises the bead and gives it a squint, then blows off some pewter flakes, "The curse is widespread much like a disease... But it is also stretched thin, like the skin of a drum. While it is certainly a risk that introduction may simply cause re-infection, it's also possible that weakening its grasp on one point may cause it to tear free and recede from the lost connection." Trudy's eye shift towards the Red Witch, "In such a theory, one freed subject may cause others near it to also be freed." > "...What if there were one, very powerful suppressing object?" "A fine idea, my Queen," Trudy closes her eyes, bobbing her head from side to side as she bats the thought around, "Effectively keeping those freed in quarantine for their own safety. Ah, but first..." Her attention returns to the bead in her hand. Blowing on it again, she kindles a faint blue light into the furrows of the runes marked into its surface, "We should test if it can be suppressed at all, no?" A skeletal hand reaches up out of her shadow, grabbing on to the floor beside her. With this leverage it hauls itself up, a complete human skeleton. She passes the bead into its waiting hand, then gestures, and the empty thrall steps forward and holds the bead out to the Destroyer. "How do you feel about it, Onuris? Would you wear this and see if we may be able to help you and your kin?"
Lissandra	Meresankh's reach toward bargaining the most palatable outcome is understandable, though it leaves Lissandra with a conflicted expression. "The best way to be certain is to follow through with miss Grimm's own test, and see what the difference may be. I would caution that no matter how effective the treatment might appear, it will need to be confirmed through consistency... Not through one dramatic moment of clarity. Remember that carefully." She's especially firm with Meresankh as she gives that warning, slicing through optimism with her tone like it's a threat. Which, it might well be. "The mind is delicate, and strives to maintain itself. If the inertia is against us, as it seems to be, then we can only know we've succeeded after time has proven it so." As for a single powerful ward, Lissandra seems slightly less enthusiastic than Trudy, but only to a point. "It would work for a small settlement, but a town, a city even? It would be better to work the warding into many points. To avoid the effects thinning at the edge of the containment area, but also to protect against sabotage. It is... Almost unavoidable that even in the best case, some small portion of your subjects might get the inkling that they were happier, less demanded-of when they were devoid of free will. It's best to be cynical for the sake of all the rest, rather than trust that none would act against their own interests." She reiterates, "Many smaller wards, embedded throughout the ground, and ideally within their homes. The greatest potential for healing of the mind is during sleeping hours, and restful hours. You'll have quite the job ahead of you to prepare such a contained settlement. But... It is possible." She could say more, but for now she waits to see how 'Onuris' cooperates, if at all. Since it's doubtful though, she's already adjusting her wand-grip, crawling her fingers along its length and flipping it impatiently around her fingers like a pencil, ready to 'gently' incapacitate their patient if needed.
Meresankh	"In such a theory, one freed subject may cause others near it to also be freed." "Yes, yes!" Meresankh says, with growing enthusiasm. "Perhaps such a process could even be sped along, through a sort of... infectious counter-curse." Lissandra's outlook is less hopeful, and Meresankh bristles subtly with impatience. "I cannot fail at this," she says. "It is too important. Although you are right, that I should not settle for a temporary solution." 'Onuris' watches with vague interest as a skeleton rises up within the hardlight cell, bearing Trudy's rune-charm. "What is this?" it asks. "A mockery of my form? Crude imitation..." The skeleton stands there, holding out the charm, but the Destroyer does not move to take the 'gift', nor does it attack the undead minion. "Nothing you could offer is of importance," it concludes aloud. Lissandra takes a more direct route to getting the charm on the Necron - a sleeping spell, which indeed works just fine on the confined Destroyer. As it falls to the ground with a heavy 'thunk', it's a trivial matter to (briefly, carefully) lower the hardlight barrier and tie the charm around its wrist. When the sleeping enchantment lifts, the Necron staggers to its tripedal feet again and regards the trio outside the cell with curiosity. They speak, after a long pause, in a voice you know but in garbled, distorted phonemes. After a long moment the sounds resolve at last into speech. "...is not my tomb. You bear the regalia of an Overlord. I am- I--" They falter. "I do not know my name..." Attempting a step forward, their leg moves unnaturally, as if they don't know how to use it, and they fall forward to the floor of the cell. There they scrabble at the floor, barely able to push themselves up higher than arm's-length. "My legs... don't work right... Forgive me, Overlord..." Lissandra's magical instruments suggest the curse lingers, only temporarily suppressed.
Lissandra	Lissandra looks away from Meresankh when the latter insists, pretending to be more interested with fixing a curl of her hair that was barely out of place. When she casts the sleeping charm, she aims for the exact moment where 'Onuris' is distracted by Trudy's rune but immediately after their refusal, not even leaving time for anyone to plead for cooperation. A refusal is a refusal, and that pushes her on to the next step without hesitation. The spell itself is trivial in its performance; just a gentle swirl and flick, drawing what looks like pink thread out of the air behind Onuris and into the back of their head. Lissandra flicks her wand again afterward as if dispelling some unseen residue from it, and adjusts her posture while watching the skeleton affix the magicked charm. Despite a skeleton simply being a skeleton, she waits for it to clear the cell again before swiping her wand again, drawing the thread back out of Onuris's body from whatever it had apparently been binding to cease their wakefulness, and sternly watches as they begin to reobtain awareness. She's silent, both in patience as the nameless destroyer finds their speech again, and in judgement over their faculties, watching them attempt to hold their posture with a peculiar amount of struggle. Glancing aside at her lingering analytic glyphs, Lissandra finally lets out a soft sigh. "... The suppression is working. We should monitor them for a while, and make sure the curse doesn't reassert itself after adapting to miss Grimm's work. If it does, then an oscillating signal from combining our work is the obvious next test." She's watching it scrabble on unfamiliar legs, rather firmly for how disinterested she's trying to sound. Making notes in the back of her mind, probably.
Trudy Grimm	> "Nothing you could offer is of importance." The witch sighs, casting a glance towards Lissandra, a silent agreement that her approach is the right one after all. And once she's knocked the Destroyer unconscious, it's Trudy who steps forward-- taking the charm from her thrall and affixing it to the Necron herself. The ordinary skeleton silently sinks into its shadow, no longer needed for its purpose of Trudy Isn't Losing A Hand Today. The hardfield raises. The mechanical warrior lurches to life. As it runs through what Trudy suppose must be a boot sequence, she tilts her head to observe the charm. Its runes glow in a somewhat unhealthy way, suggesting this might only be a temporary solution. > "...is not my tomb." While the Destroyer seems far more talkative now; and is far more polite and a lot less grouchy, the first intelligible words it utters are what really catches Trudy's attention. Closing her eyes, she claps her hands together once with a brief laugh, "Aha! How promising!" Her hands draw apart and she makes a 'settle down' sort of gesture, "I have been calling you Onuris while helping you, if that suffices for now. Please take all the time you need to get accustomed to your body, it must have been modified into this after you were cursed." Shifting a bit, the witch plucks up her grimoire and flips it open, nodding along to Lissandra's assessment, "The runes are holding for now, but I can't say if it's permanent or temporary at the moment... Ahh, combining our efforts, I agree, is definitely the next test." She traces a few new lines into the pages with her fingertip, "By recalling your tomb-- or at least, knowing that this isn't your tomb, I take it you still remember some parts of who you are? That's wonderful, truly. We were worried that all of you might have been consumed."
Meresankh	Meresankh looks first to the pair of magicians, before really giving much attention to her own subject. She's practically bouncing on her feet, but quiets herself somewhat on seeing Lissandra's own subdued reaction. And again on seeing the (temporarily-former?) Destroyer struggle to get to its feet. "We should monitor them for a while, and make sure the curse doesn't reassert itself after adapting to miss Grimm's work." "I- yes," Meresankh says. She seems somewhat at a loss for what to do now that she has even the slightest taste of progress. She turns to address the Necron. "You have been damaged. These two are helping me restore you." "I... feel like that is the case, yes. What happened to my legs...?" "...That will take some explaining." "I take it you still remember some parts of who you are?" "I... it's all so hazy. Maybe...?"
Trudy Grimm	> "I... it's all so hazy. Maybe...?" "There is no need to strain yourself," Trudy asserts calmly, "Given we are not yet certain if your state will last, please accept my apologies that we will still have to keep you contained. However, I'm certain our delightful Queen shall arrange a confinement that is more comfortable?" She casts a questioning look towards Meresankh, though the clear implication is that the Necron empress should probably get started on that if she hasn't already. "In the meantime please focus on getting your bearings and straightening out your thoughts. It is my hope that the fog will clear with time. You've been through a very extended and quite traumatizing experience, after all. There's no rush whatsoever on the road of recovery." Her attention shifts to Lissandra, then; "We'll have to observe carefully for the time being." Closing her eyes, she lets out a little sigh, "And I shall prepare more beads, both in anticipation of more subjects and in case our dear Onuris has need of reinforcement."
Lissandra	Lissandra slots her wand away and brushes her hair back with her fingertips for a moment, distractedly thinking to herself before she comes back up into reality again. "... Right. We'll need a supply of those trinkets to begin work on others once we know the efficacy, and I'd like to ensure the effects are able to be at least long-lasting, if not self-sustaining... Then it's on to getting their bodies back to a state they can recognize and be at peace in. Remaining in bodies shaped for war would be poison to a peaceful life. May need to consult with some proper machinists to go to full scale, but..." She trails off, ceasing the ramble with a fog-dispelling wave of her hand. She steps close to the hardlight containment field, addressing the once-destroyer in a still firm, but quieter and gentler tone. "I know you have a lot to think about, now. And I know you'll be struggling to adjust. But I want you to remember something crucial. Things are going to get better from here. You are just the first to begin recovery; you represent something." She won't step through the hardlight, but she can at least create the illusion of a hand, reached out to gently rest on their arm, above the blades. "We will be working on making this clarity last, and making sure you have a real body. So I want you to think about what you want life to look like, when you are as yourself as you can be. When others start to recover, I want you to help them feel less alone. I cannot do that, but you and your Queen can. Stay strong. You aren't alone, either." Then, her illusory grip dissolves, and she's pivoting on her heel. "Miss Grimm, if you'd lend me a few of your runes I'd like to experiment a bit with blending our runework. Once this fellow has an idea of the kind of body they prefer, I'm going to begin producing the parts. Meresankh, if I could borrow one of your technicians to be sure that my product is compatible with the existing frame, that would be ideal." Off she goes, running from the gentle moment as fast as a brisk walk can carry her, straight toward the nearest workshop. She's always preferred work over talk... And she's not quite accustomed to positive results from optimistic action. On occassions like this, it just feels like acknowledging the positives too much will risk them vanishing on the spot.