Closed [Ino Vations]To catch a poisoner[Inoadar]

[Clyde Sullins]

Once more the swing of Clyde's mood was shifting towards angry. While he'd been playful for awhile, and in somewhat higher spirits, Nolan's constant rudeness was starting to grind on him. "No sir. While you DID say that, you also previously stated, while expounding on your many magical talents, that you also practiced Summoning, and had the coordinates for the Vilemoss' home world. Now, knowing that you would never make a false claim, I very naturally assumed that you had actually opened such a gateway to this world, thereby verifying and legitimizing that claim. And that, in the process, had actually seen this Vilemoss. Silly me to have made such a presumption." "So, no need for an air sample, eh?...So you are already undermining our "equitable" agreement, and setting aside my expertise in poison crafting and handling in favor of your own?" "With your extensive knowledge, you have assumed to know ALL the reasons I might feel compelled to obtain an air sample?...'Any negative qualities would be totally involved in the plant itself, not the place's air', eh?" "Do you honestly think that the air surrounding a plant infuses NOTHING into the plant's characteristics? Like stability, for instance? Do you think that the hope that you might have witnessed some dramatic reaction with our alien air might be a good reason for me to be alarmed to find that you have NO experience with this substance? Does it rain on this world? Is the rain comprised of mere water? Does the ground possess the same toxin as the moss, due to the flush of rain? Is it in a more stable form? Insects? How long do samples live once pulled through? Do they retain their toxicity after death? There are a thousand variables!" "Let me spell it out for you...The very air MAY be a stabilizing agent. An inhibitor that prevents an instantaneous burst of toxins into a room full of our air, and...inexperienced mages. Now if you'd SEEN that this was not so, I would not have to worry about that. But now that I find you've never actually even seen the stuff, I have to take every conceivable precaution. Additionally, the air may have other qualities, lucrative qualities, not found on Mizahar. Probably not, but again, you don't know. And if some other man found this to be true, he would NOT coming running to you to tell." "Or the air may have lucrative qualities that ARE found on Mizahar, in which case there is still no reason to pass up the opportunity to gather some. IF you'd had the opportunity to witness a harvest of this stuff, I could press you for details that might save us a number of the tests I'll be taking. They could give me time-saving clues." "But alas, no such luck!" "You've been enjoying throwing your weight around...Let's call my intent to take an air sample a "test". Well you just failed, Clyde. You just made it obvious that you didn't intend to do as you're told. Now I will say this for the second and last time. You will defer to MY decisions in all things relating to the handling and processing of this Vilemoss. Moss is spongy, there is every likelihood that elements of that world's air are present. They may be part of the toxin, they may suppress it, or they may be completely inert. But they will be considered. Now, yes or no...Do you understand?" "Now, in fairness, I have no knowledge of the dynamics of summoning, or holding open a gateway. So if you're concerned about having to open it over and over again, while I go through a battery of safety tests, I really am sorry. But unless I am very much mistaken, a wise mage, like a poison crafter, knows the virtue of patience." "Will this do? I cannot attest to its sterility, but if you do not choose to use flame, I can pour an alcohol wash. In fact, I should have done that already." "Okay Mr. Sullins, if there is anything I am likely to be able to help with, regarding your preparations, say the word. Otherwise, I will start doing my own." Finally with a chance to get a word in, Clyde drew himself up, anger once more pouring into his eyes, though his face took on an unnatural stillness of constrained fury. Within his own Aura Clyde felt a sudden change of heat, a shifting of hue from his normal bright silver to a reddish hue, as if a silver blade had been heated in a forge and had taken on its new color. “Do not try my patience Trandino. I will not have your rudeness, nor your tone. Do not mistake my prior ways, my niceness, for weakness. Do not mistake my attempt at candor for the notion that you can be flippant with me. I am not to be tried, and my patience with your rudeness grows thin. Do not forget that I am Stryfe, regardless of who your mysterious supporter or benefactor is.” “I do not care. You could be Rhysol himself's petching bastard son, and I would not care. So do not think that your "connections," whatever they may be, means you can be rude to me, a Stryfe, and a mage.” “I am not someone you want to make an enemy of, and I will not suffer your rudeness. But it appears you desire to find fault and rudeness in everything I say, not matter whether it is meant to insult or simply be playful, regardless of the meaning I intend in it.” “Now you laid out why you felt a air sample was needed, and I made it clear that those reasons would not be a needed reason, and explained why. If there were additional other reasons beyond that, then how was I supposed to know?” “Let ME make THIS clear. We can either be allies, or business partners. With the former, we take on an air of civility, and there is some leeway on both our parts for candor and openness, and value beyond the immediate. I am often a playful person, and enjoy a good verbal sparring when in good spirits, and when it is not meant to be outright rude and distasteful.” “If we are simply to be business partners, then we will have nothing beyond the immediate deal, and as soon as you lose value to me, or your impertinence outweighs whatever gains I might have from you, I will see to the ending of said deals, by whatever way I see fit. But I will not suffer your disrespect, that I will not do.” “Beyond that, I am a mage, and a powerful one. Your abilities are tied into materials, into plants and animals and things from which you derive your skills. Unlike you, my power has a connection to me, to my temperament, to my mood, and often to my unconscious feelings. And yes, to an extent, this means that I am not totally in control all of the time. Do you really then wish to draw my ire, knowing that some day we may meet, and find that on that day unlike today I am not in as high spirits, or in as close control of my inhibitions. Do you really want to be an enemy of me? Imagine what would happen if you had no control over your actions, and instead you simply did as you wished by impulse, every angry thought, every violent action.” “And then imagine if you will, that upon a whim, upon a lost thought or a angry moment, you could lose control and such a situation could come true. And imagine that not only do you have such mundane means at your disposal to unleash said wrath, but also more potent forms of release. Do you truly then on that day wish to be marked as my enemy, and knowing that on a good day only my restraint stops such a thing from happening? For a mage not only is such a thing possible, it is inevitable.” “Do not think this a threat, as it is not. It is simply a honest stating of facts, perhaps beyond what most know of mages. And know the restraint that I hold right now to hold such things at bay, and that might one day not be in place. So do you wish to be an ally, or a business partner, or enemies? Your choice does not matter now, but not every day will I be so restrained. I simply felt that if you truly wished to draw my ire, and to become my foe, then you should fully understand what you are getting into.” With that Clyde would stop, letting out a deep breath, finished with both his spiel, and his unburdening.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar stared in near disbelief. The phrase running again and again in his shocked mind. “You could be Rhysol himself's petching bastard son... Rhysol's petching bastard son, and I would not care... I... would... not... care... I do not care... Petching... Rhysol's... petching... bastard... petching... son... his petching self, and I would not care. I... would... not... care..."
The words echoed amidst the thrumming of his accelerating heartbeat, as fury began to drown out all other sounds. The rest of what Clyde said did nothing to improve his mood either.

The visage of the angry mage before him began to develop twists to it, as Inoadar's imagination soared in retribution. A knife poised in Clyde's eye socket... another halfway though his throat... His hated face melting from acid... bubbling flesh, sloughing from his screaming skull... The blade in the poisoner's boot slammed into the mage's broken knee, the foot twisting it sadistically... thumbs putting out the eyes... The Flux giving him the strength to rip the skull asunder... crushing the brain in his fist... driving his fingertips right into the man's very torso... tearing out his organs to display them to his horrified dying eyes as Inoadar laughed and crushed his throat underfoot...

But the image of Valdinox intruded suddenly on his vengeful, reverie. He could picture her glaring at him, demanding he set aside his singed pride. He'd been granted a grand boon by this Druvin's family, and the price was making the products of his work accessible to them. She would not be pleased if he allowed his outrage at this mage to supersede his obligation to break this new ground for their shared benefit. He imagined her gaze sneaking toward the mage, with a nod and a cruel wink, 'the time will come, my dear chemist...be patient...endure for now.'

He quivered and turned away, temporarily redirecting the Flux, which seemed to have activated itself, to calm his heart and allow several deep breaths. He looked back finally at Clyde, "Not a threat...No, of course not...Why would I take that as a threat?..." He felt his ire rising again, and took another round of deep breaths. "Okay, look...No, Of course I don't WANT to be your enemy. But may I show you the courtesy of complete honesty? And say that I do not ever see us being allies?

"Okay then, let me give YOU a "statement of fact."...As either Ally OR business partner, I expect not to have those observations I make, which clearly are based on poisoner's knowledge, like the need to take an air sample, dismissed as unnecessary, by someone who claims he wants an equitable partnership."

He put his hands up defensively, "No, no...I am not trying to be sarcastic here. I mean it. If I am truly to be your partner, then how I feel about things, and how I interpret remarks, or sense insult in them, is just as important and legitimate as it is for you. I was not simply being rude. In my opinion, I was giving you a well-earned reprimand for treating me like your servant, or minion. Your "test" did that, as does your continued air of entitlement, and your ongoing attempts to put me in my place."

"I am perfectly willing to discontinue this project right here and now, if you can not accept that I am to be treated as an equal. And you know damn well what I mean as "equal"! Don't confuse the issue with a bunch of semantic crap! How would you like it if I started interfering with your magic? Like saying, 'Oh, you don't need that glyph'... or 'that circle doesn't need to be so large'. And based it on poison-related observations, when they have nothing to do with what is necessary for you to perform your magic-related tasks. You would be furious, and you know it.

His voice remained calm and unchallenging, but blunt, "If I am going to work with you, I DO expect you to abide by any instruction I give, related to the gathering, handling and processing of this vilemoss. In return, I will give you the same courtesy with the magic end of this. Now if you can't do this, then there is no point in continuing. If you CAN however, I will have no reason to feel compelled to keep offering these 'rebuttals'. I will however, as of right now, ask that you never again...show such disregard...to my god...to my face...under my roof...again..."[/i]

His pose was guarded, not knowing if Clyde was going to lash out or not. He honestly hoped not, but was ready to make his Fluxed attempt to take him with him if it came to that.

[Clyde Sullins]

As Clyde listened, listened to the flare of his own Aura dying down as his bluster spent itself in speech, he felt another heat rising, a warmth in Nolan firing itself to life as Clyde's cooled. Clearly the poisoner had as much rage burning in himself, something he could not hide from Clyde's own djed vision. He could feel the heat like a small rumbling, a spreading of warmth and hot colors to the sedate green bitterness of the other mans aura. Not bitter as in him being an embittered person, but bitter like a poison could taste. Perhaps a small rubbing off of the essence of his work? Then there was a pinprick, a flare of light bright within his chest, of djed churning and being transmuted to an end effect, of magic in his presence. Clyde had seen more than enough active spells to know the feeling, to know magic upon the air. Normally he felt it as a whisper upon his neck, but as he happened to already be examining the source of the djed effect, he saw more. As the djed spent itself in the change, he saw a cooling of colors, the bright hues fading and Nolans' aura returning to the more sedate greenish hues. Clyde was unsure of what magic had been used, or what the effect was, but he did not believe it was hypnotism, nor any effect aimed at himself... Something internal then, upon Nolan himself? It was the only thing that made sense. When he turned back to Clyde the djed's hum had faded to an echo, an afterthought, but still there under his concentrated gaze. "Not a threat...No, of course not...Why would I take that as a threat?..." There was another upsurge of heat, sudden, but it quickly cooled to the background again as Nolan took several deep breathes. "Okay, look...No, Of course I don't WANT to be your enemy. But may I show you the courtesy of complete honesty? And say that I do not ever see us being allies?" Clyde grinned back at the man, seeing a rare candid moment in him. "Okay then, let me give YOU a "statement of fact."...As either Ally OR business partner, I expect not to have those observations I make, which clearly are based on poisoner's knowledge, like the need to take an air sample, dismissed as unnecessary, by someone who claims he wants an equitable partnership." "No, no...I am not trying to be sarcastic here. I mean it. If I am truly to be your partner, then how I feel about things, and how I interpret remarks, or sense insult in them, is just as important and legitimate as it is for you. I was not simply being rude. In my opinion, I was giving you a well-earned reprimand for treating me like your servant, or minion. Your "test" did that, as does your continued air of entitlement, and your ongoing attempts to put me in my place." “Ah but my test had nothing to do with our partnership, it was an aspect of the inspection I am doing. While we are partnering in this endeavor, I am still also as another thing enacting an inspection upon your facilities and you, on behalf of the Stryfe.” "I am perfectly willing to discontinue this project right here and now, if you can not accept that I am to be treated as an equal. And you know damn well what I mean as "equal"! Don't confuse the issue with a bunch of semantic crap! How would you like it if I started interfering with your magic? Like saying, 'Oh, you don't need that glyph'... or 'that circle doesn't need to be so large'. And based it on poison-related observations, when they have nothing to do with what is necessary for you to perform your magic-related tasks. You would be furious, and you know it." Clyde grinned back at the man, the poisoner, as he started up with a point before Clyde could bring it up. “Ah, but often semantics play an important part, and can mean the difference between enslavement and freedom. Semantics and meaning and understanding, all are important in Glyphing and in triggers and in Oaths. Perhaps I do concentrate on them more than the average person, but I do so by necessity, by habit, and by practice, for my own works. Do not think I do it simply out of a vindictive nature, or a desire to annoy. Perhaps that does play a small part... But it is also out of a true requirement of my craft, or at least one of them. Logic can be twisted, and semantics are one way such is done.” Clyde grinned once more, finding the discourse funny and enjoyable once more, now that it was on more civil footing. "If I am going to work with you, I DO expect you to abide by any instruction I give, related to the gathering, handling and processing of this vilemoss. In return, I will give you the same courtesy with the magic end of this. Now if you can't do this, then there is no point in continuing. If you CAN however, I will have no reason to feel compelled to keep offering these 'rebuttals'. I will however, as of right now, ask that you never again...show such disregard...to my god...to my face...under my roof...again..." The last bit actually made Clyde laugh, a short bark of laughter, as he grinned at Nolan. “Hold just a moment, and beware the semantics, but I did not show disregard nor disrespect to Rhysol, a God we hold in common, whom I am marked by, and for all I petching know is eavesdropping right now in the guise of a bum or some other semblance. I said nothing of Rhysol, but of said possible illegitimate children born out of a bond or of a home, and of the response I'd have if you were one of said children. And considering Rhysol's habit of taking on the form and semblance of others, I do not doubt there are instances of such children. He tends to hide as some of the most unexpected people. Why the first... Or was it second... Anyways, the time I met him, in which I gained my mark, he was posing as a high ranking member of the Rising Dawn, a group who's purpose is to take down Rhysol and Ravok.” Clyde grinned once more, thinking back, as he revealed a fact he'd not told to anyone, and which likely even the Druvin themselves did not know of. “That's just between you and me though... Anyways, Rhysol likes his little jokes and unexpected twists. Whats more, he is not a weak god, he can take care of himself. I do not think he will be mortally offended by anything I've said. I highly doubt there is much that goes on in Ravok that he is not aware of, or skulking in the backgrounds of.” “Regardless, I suppose we can continue, so long as we can keep a air of civility about our discourse.” Taking up the scalpel Nolan had offered him, Clyde held the head of Cha just under it, waving it back and forth. As he did, he released a small trail of res, simply by willing it to emit from Cha's wooden flesh. After a few more trails, he stopped exuding, guiding it to just below the blade. Pulling back Cha, he transmuted the top third of the res into flames, holding it in place and bathing the blade in flames. He held this, killing off anything that might have been resting on the blade, cleaning and purifying it. He kept it up until only a third of the initial res was untransmuted, by which time the blade had taken on a healthy reddish hue. Pushing upward, Clyde transmuted the final bit of remaining res into air, pushing it upward, blowing against the blade to quickly air cool it. It'd likely still be another chime or two till till it was cool enough to use, but he'd need that time to draw out the summoning gateway. “Now... Where can I set this down where it won't need to be cleaned again? I'll need a free hand or two for making the gateway.”

[Inoadar]

Inoadar stood in pure shock, his mouth slightly agape. The analytical portion of his brain found nothing to suggest the mage was lying. '...posing as a high ranking member of the Rising Dawn, a group who's...' the rest was lost in a fog of astonishment.

For a moment he was ready to lash out in accusations of blasphemy. He'd even drawn the breath to do so. But the subtleties of such a move started to slip through the bulwark of affrontery, and he held the breath, forgotten, as he wrapped his mind around the brilliance of it. The red blush of the poisoner's fury paled to a standard tone of his largely Vanthan heritage. His eyes wandered as he considered the ramifications of this revelation.

He suddenly coughed, and exhaled, to find himself unable to stop grinning at the mad logic of it all. But one of Clyde's ensuing remarks caught up to register in his understanding. He focused again on the mage before him, whose grin was of a different demeanor, but just as amused. Now Inoadar let a scowl twist his grin and narrowed his eyes. "Voice's Vexation, Clyde! Are you trying to suggest that I am worried that my God is concerned about your sneering comments regarding any bastard sons He may have? That would be entirely your problem, not mine."

Now Inoadar laughed for a moment, but soon stifled himself to assure the mage that he was equally sure that Rhysol was capable of taking care of himself. "It is for no one's sake but my own that I ask you not to make such disparaging remarks, sir. Perhaps it is some lingering effect of Wrenmae's hypnosis that I am finding myself unable to be rid of. But I will say, and with no apology, that I do not find it odd or unjustified to object to such statements, so please, make an effort to avoid them."

He looked now at Clyde with a surprising new respect, and nodded to him, "Nonetheless...Thank you for that information. I will not speak of it again." he wondered if Clyde had known of this deception when they'd first met, at the old shop, in that ill-fated attempt to unlock the secrets of the glyphed bird skull that Inoadar had been given by the Rising Dawn mage, Ervis Revine. Then a second degree of curiosity rose in his mind.

"If you can tell me, was it that mage, Ervis Revine? That would certainly be ironic." Whether or not Clyde felt compelled to answer, Inoadar watched him sterilize the scalpel, and offered the beaker of alcohol for him to place it in while the mage began his efforts to create the circle. He then, got several implements of his own ready for use.

[Clyde Sullins]

As Clyde laughed, aloud to Nolan and silently to himself, a new hue came upon his own Aura. A yellow happy tone, that which reflected mirth and laughter. It leaked out slowly, shifting the color of the bright silver in part and in essence, but not at its deepest. A new emotion, seen and heard within his aura sight. For a moment within Nolan there was a hint of flame, of heat, but it quickly abated, shifting into another hue and color and feeling. After a moment a similar hue came across Nolan, a yellowish sound that resounded off the bitter green and tinged its edges. It was clear that Nolan had grasped it, the cold logic and genius to the action, had finally come to grasp what Clyde coined Chaos Logic. Something that often made a vague sense of Rhysol's actions, at least in hindsight, or with forethought. It made what appeared random and wrong as clear and with purpose, at least as much so as anything done by Rhysol did. It was a moment of realization Clyde had long ago, on the same day he had been marked by Rhysol, as he used said Chaos Logic to understand why Rhysol allowed the Rising Dawn to exist, and what purpose they served. Corrupting the good into acts within his domain, all in the name of good, and believing they acted for said good... Causing chaos and unrest within Ravok, and a focal point for the hatred of its citizens... Rhysol had openly admitted that not even his Druvin had realized this before, which made his realization in the midst of a torture session all the more impressive. "Voice's Vexation, Clyde! Are you trying to suggest that I am worried that my God is concerned about your sneering comments regarding any bastard sons He may have? That would be entirely your problem, not mine." Clyde grinned, at it seemed that this common understanding of Rhysol, this understanding of Chaos Logic brought a new tone to his own words, and perhaps made what he did and said make a bit more sense to Nolan. "It is for no one's sake but my own that I ask you not to make such disparaging remarks, sir. Perhaps it is some lingering effect of Wrenmae's hypnosis that I am finding myself unable to be rid of. But I will say, and with no apology, that I do not find it odd or unjustified to object to such statements, so please, make an effort to avoid them." “Well then, for you I will attempt to do so... So long as you don't set me up too perfectly for it as you did then... I make no promises in that case. I am only human, and would not fight such humors when a chance for them is to be had. I think Rhysol appreciates a bit of humor, or at least some of his actions would lead me to believe so.” "Nonetheless...Thank you for that information. I will not speak of it again." "If you can tell me, was it that mage, Ervis Revine? That would certainly be ironic." Clyde grinned at Nolan, suddenly recalling how they had first met, on that work of Malediction they had looked over, and of meeting Wrenmae. He had forgotten about that, of Nolan having received said item from that same mage... Suddenly Clyde could not help laughing once more, of the hilarity of the situation. Rhysol did love his jokes... “Now that you mention it, I do recall how we first met, and of the situation. I'd forgotten to be honest... But yes, the high ranking member of the Rising Dawn whose semblance Rhysol took was indeed that maledictor and mage, Ervis Revine. I was, or so I was led to believe, captured by the Rising Dawn, their attention brought to me due to our work with that maledicted item. Although I had not until just now made that connection between our work for Rhysol, and said capture...” “I was then tortured by him, as he attempted to force me to work for the Rising Dawn, and sign a True Oath to such an end. I refused, and the torture continued until in a moment of pain induced clarity and logic, I professed my understanding of the Rising Dawn. Apparently so impressed by this was Rhysol that he revealed his true form, and then marked me as a Chaon.” “Of course... The true question is whether or not Rhysol was simply pretending to be Ervis in that instance, or if there truly is no Ervis excepting when Rhysol is taking his semblance, and his entire existence is a facade... I am unsure which is the truth. I think such doubt and confusion is a part of Rhysol though, total clarity and understanding is hard to come by with him, the most one can hope for is a bit of understanding.” Clyde grinned once more, finally concluding his laughter, and setting to work. As indicated, Clyde set the scalpel within the beaker of alcohol, and set to work drawing out the gateway. First was a series of three circles. A small one in the middle of the parchment. Then a larger one, near the edge of the parchment, never touching but getting close, and as neat a circle as he could manage. Third was a inner or middle circle, in between the other two, but close to the outermost circle. Next was a X or a cross, bisecting in the middle of the innermost circle, and going on till each of the four ends touched a edge of the middle circle. Then he needed 16 more small circles, drawn along the middle line, with the outer edge of the circles touching the outermost circles edge, but not crossing it. Four were drawn first, one at each end of the X on the middle circle. Then four more, each equally spaced out between the first four. Finally the last 8, drawn between each pairing of the initial eight, totaling sixteen. The next to final step in his drawing was the coordinates, something Clyde had to struggle to recall. After a moment he did, and one by one filled in the digits into the circles on the middle circle, going counterclockwise as was needed. The coordinates for Kseyden- 3 8 9 3 8 4 9 2 8 0 1 6 0 0 0 1. All sixteen digits filled in one by one. With that the simple minimal summoning gateway was complete, minus the blood needed to open it. “Alright, ready when you are.” Donning the protective gear, and waiting upon Nolan to give the word or signal to start, Clyde would take the scalpel, let the alcohol drip free for a few moments, and then made a tiny cut, a prick, on his index finger of the hand holding Cha. Then he would bend down and press his slightly injured and bleeding finger upon the outermost edge of the summoning gateway. Immediately there was a reaction, a flash of blinding light and colors, a banging pop sound heard once, and a odd scent upon the air. The area within the outermost circle on his drawn gateway would swirl and mix with color, as if made of water that was forming a whirlpool. However as the colors and light faded, the swirling would slow, until the image cleared, and the gateway looked more like a window, a window into another place. Where there should have only been the floor of the room, there was instead a opening, a gateway, one to another world, that of Kseyden. Through it could be seen the plant life which covered the entire planet, that of Vilemoss. Clyde could feel it, could feel the summoning gateway, feel it through his connection by blood. But along with that his Aura sight was extended, and so for the first time Clyde could see the aura of an open gateway. As his sight extended and focused on the gateway, Clyde saw something both strange and logical, which both made sense and yet seemed odd.

[Inoadar]

Inoadar's eyes were briefly dazzled by the flash. The pop was not surprising, but the odd smell was unexpected. His first thought was that something had gone wrong and that the smell was coming form the wrong side of the portal. He was glad of his protective attire. When his eyes resumed normal perception, he was confused for a moment. 'Did the gateway fall over?' he pondered in ignorance. He had just assumed that anything called a "gateway" would be standing vertically.

When he saw his mistake, he realized his preconception had been groundless. The glyphs and such had been lying flat. Why would the connecting portal not be likewise? He had assumed the glyphs included some command to structure the gateway to a vertical orientation. But it made far more sense that the portal would simply be contained by the circle. And as it was flat on the ground, so did the gateway follow that plane. It made perfect sense.

But now the thought of the unfamiliar smell came back to him. He dropped to his knees and lowered his head to scan across the surface of the opening. He expected to see some sort of rising shimmer, to indicate an upflow of some essence from the contacted world. He realized quickly that there was no such current. If one imagined the image of the other world as something simply painted there, you'd never know there was any sort of opening at all. The smell must be some lingering effect of the expended djed effort.

Now he realized he was wasting time. He stood quickly, trying to ignore a slight vertiginous sensation as the axis of orientation was defied by the image, whose three-dimensional depth stood at odds with the reality of the room. "Amazing..." he muttered quietly as he hurried to grab several of the jars he'd prepared.

He set them on the floor to the side of the opening. Each had been emptied of air to a large enough degree to suck air inside when a valve slip in the stopper was released. He tried to shake off his fascination with the entire alien scene below. It was a never-ending carpet of what looked like a lumpy, green sponge, covered with nodules. And the whole image wavered slightly, in accord with incredible humidity. He swayed slightly on his feet, feeling an odd impulse to dive through the gateway into the world below. Fortunately, it was an easily resisted impulse.

He grabbed his large syringe chamber pump, the tube extending a foot and a half from the front of the cylinder. The plunger was already fully engaged as he stuck it through the event horizon. He realized his heart was pumping in an excited terror as the thought that he might be rupturing some sort of safety membrane filled his anxieties. But there was no effect beyond the end of the tube simply slipping through the portal.

He drew the plunger back, filling the cylinder with alien air. With his gloved hands he inserted the end of the tube into pre-drilled circular openings in the rubber stoppers. He then pulled a valve slip and allowed air to be sucked into the vacuum jars. As he was doing so, he remarked to Clyde, "I know you think this is an unnecessary step, but the litmus slips and reagents inside will give detailed information about what kind of atmosphere abounds on...that....world."

His words slowed with awe. It was difficult for him to get past the incredible knowledge that he was actually looking at the surface of an entirely different world than Mizahar. He shook off the distraction once again, feeling a bit of a fool for his lack of professionalism. He continued, "That, in turn, could give a tremendous insight into how to approach refining this substance. The look of humidity could be caused by something entirely different. But by the same token, if it IS simply humidity, that will be a tremendous lead right there."

He continued filing jars, asking as he worked, "Is it taxing you to keep this thing open, Clyde? I hesitate to hurry. Mistakes are made that way. Obviously I have no idea what is involved; whether the portal is self-perpetuating, or if you are being drained by the tick." He had a couple more jars left, but felt they were somewhat redundant, so he was ready to call this step complete and start pulling samples of the actual vegetation itself.

If Clyde instructed, he would take up the tongs and begin stripping clumps of moss from the carpeted surface of Kseyden. But not before wiping down the tube on the pump syringe, placing the rag in a sealed jar, and the syringe components in another. Safety first.

[Clyde Sullins]

Looking at the gateway through his aura vision was definitely odd. The gateway itself shown brightly with his own djed's, likely since it was blood bound to him. He recognized his own bright silvery hue in the glimmers emanating from the gateway. Above it the air seemed normal, and then their was a cut in the air, like a 2-dimensional slice bisecting two spots. Below the slice, and through its effervescing aura, was another air, another spot, a foreignness. He could latch on to something, and found his first thing to inspect, the Vilemoss through the portal. He hadn't considered it before, but distance not being an issue, it made sense to be able to sense a items djed and aura through an open gateway. While it was far away on another planet, it was also right before him due to the shortcut the gateway made. So for his purposes, the vilemoss was not all that far away. As he looked over its basic aura, its colors shifted, a odd mix of green and a sickly yellow color. The smell of the opening gateway faded, along with the other stimuli occurring upon its opening, leaving only the open gateway behind. "Amazing..." Clyde grinned at Nolan, as his shock seemed to finally wear off, replaced a urgency of motion and action as he recalled what he was here to do. It was an odd mood shift, the shock being a tingly blunt emotion, which was subsumed by a calmer more work focused emotion that was much blander. First was a syringe full of air, pulled through simply enough. Clyde could feel the intrusion upon the gateway, could feel the vague areas of the cross motion through his blood bonding. Via the connection he could sense the gateway itself, its openness, and those that passed through it. "I know you think this is an unnecessary step, but the litmus slips and reagents inside will give detailed information about what kind of atmosphere abounds on...that....world." Clyde shrugged, focused more on his aura reading and on his connection to the gateway. With the same connection he could attempt to force something out, or freeze it, but that was when dealing with living things moving through the gateway, like a creature from beyond... He was uncertain if that would work with something crossing over from this side. As Nolan pulled in the air though, there was a distinctness about it stored as it was. Where the holder itself was mundane matter, the air had a powerful aura about it, a clear indicator that it was not from Mizahar. But then, anything pulled through had a strong aura about it, signifying its nature. Not as strong as say the remains of a once living creature pulled across, but strong all the same. It was also interesting to see the aura appear, as it was not there before crossing the threshold, but suddenly was as it crossed through. It was the action of crossing the plane of the barrier, that bisection of the plane, which was where the strong aura of djed appeared. Clyde felt for a moment a hint of the earlier tingly blunt emotion, but it shifted back once more soon enough. "That, in turn, could give a tremendous insight into how to approach refining this substance. The look of humidity could be caused by something entirely different. But by the same token, if it IS simply humidity, that will be a tremendous lead right there." "Is it taxing you to keep this thing open, Clyde? I hesitate to hurry. Mistakes are made that way. Obviously I have no idea what is involved; whether the portal is self-perpetuating, or if you are being drained by the tick." Finally an actual question, Clyde turned to Nolan. Visual contact did not matter for his aura reading, nor his blood bound connection to the gateway, so he could still sense all that he was directing his aura senses at. “No, summoning is a world magic, and so it does not take djed from me. World magics unlike personal magics take their djeds from the world itself. Through innate djeds of the nature of an object, or of the rules of djed and of the world itself. I'm not quite sure where the djed come from that is manifest in a summoning gateway, but it is not from me.” “As for length... Well I'd wager it would be safe to say it will stay open for a bell at least... Possibly... Perhaps less, or perhaps more, I'm not totally sure. As I've said, summoning is not one of my greatest skills, but I'd still wager it will be open at least half a bell. That should be enough time to do as you need to do. If nothing else, I should have a sense when it is nearing closing, so I should at least be able to warn you.”

[Inoadar]

At the word "No..." spoken by the mage, Inoadar was already beginning with the tongs, stripping bits of foliage from stems across the measure of the cosmos. By the time Clyde finished comparing world magic with personal, and giving an estimate of the duration of the spell, the poisoner had already gathered a half-dozen samples.

He truly had to contain his amazement at what he was doing. He had no concept of the true measure of space. For him, the thought that it was surely "millions and millions" of miles was enough to astound him. If he'd known the actual parameters of distance separating planets, he'd have possibly fainted on the spot.

Inoadar was downright giggly, his mood dismissing the normal irritation he'd feel at the realization that he lacked the proper equipment. He needed some long handle clippers for this work. He was definitely rupturing some elements of the structure of the plant as he ripped pieces free with the tongs. But he guessed it was probably of no consequence. His tests and litmus strips would serve to give some hint in this regard.

He could see clouds of spores rising from the clumps as his violent separation loosed them into the foreign atmosphere. It occurred to him however, that this was a noteworthy detail. Given the apparent humidity of the planet's atmosphere, the free-floating nature of these spores was unexpected, and the unexpected was always noteworthy. It troubled him though, as it suggested that an atmosphere less humid would be detrimental to the longevity of his samples.

This gave him thoughts on an immediate test to run. He was going to assume that the "thick"-looking atmosphere WAS due to humidity, for this test. He quickly retrieved a litmus strip and dipped it in water. He placed this in a vial and then added a small clump of the moss. He sealed it up and set it aside. He gathered more as he waited to see how long it would take to show an effect, if any.

He then grabbed a second glass chamber. It was of an odd design, the overall cylinder formed into two equal sections separated by a wall of glass formed in the original shaping of the unit. There was also a small hole in the bottom center of one side. It was currently plugged with a rubber stopper.

Inoadar took a small piece of paper and put it at the bottom of the side with the stopper. He then put a single one of the Vilemoss samples in the other side of the two-chamber unit. He pulled the stopper from the bottom of the chamber and slid his lit burner underneath it to set the paper alight. He quickly replaced the stopper, allowing the burning paper to consume the air in the two-chamber unit.

He turned back to Clyde, "This should give us a good idea of how much difference the presence of moisture makes. In one chamber we have a source of moisture, in the other, there is none, not even air. Finding this out will help to know how to store this stuff while we learn about it." The poisoner went back to pulling samples from the alien foliage. It was not long before one of his routine checks on his samples showed a development. The wet litmus paper enclosed with the first sample was not only dry, it was withered. But the moss looked fresh. The sample in the airless chamber was starting to discolor slightly.

"Yes." Inoadar nodded, "this stuff needs a very humid environment." he turned towards the lab and lifted both hands up where Vera could see them through the window in the door. He made a gesture of turning a spigot with one hand, over a cup held in the other. Then pointed his finger up. Vera nodded back and disappeared into a corner of the lab. Inoadar turned back to Clyde. "Vera will prepare a steam tank for us to keep this stuff in. It should last longer that way. Was there anything else you need me to do right away?"

[Clyde Sullins]

As Clyde spoke, Nolan continued on with his work, clearly more interested in his own work than hearing what Clyde had to say. Even if he was explaining something deeply magical... Clearly though it wasn't of import to Nolan. Seeing as Clyde knew little of poison lore, or of the work Nolan did, he could do little more than watch and try to figure out what he was doing. Some of it made sense, but other things... Not so much. Instead he focused on his connection by blood to the summoning portal, feeling its presence and existence as open, along with feeling it and Nolan with his aura senses. After a time he turned to Clyde, and gave a brief explanation of what he was doing. "This should give us a good idea of how much difference the presence of moisture makes. In one chamber we have a source of moisture, in the other, there is none, not even air. Finding this out will help to know how to store this stuff while we learn about it." Watching what Nolan did know, along with the samples, Clyde kept an open eye on what they were doing, and seeing if anything would happen, while Nolan went off to gather more samples. As Nolan returned there was little change, a drawing in of water and such, a slight bit of decay and discoloration, as compared to the other. "Yes, this stuff needs a very humid environment." Clyde watched Nolan make some vague gestures, though didn't really understand what he was implying or saying. "Vera will prepare a steam tank for us to keep this stuff in. It should last longer that way. Was there anything else you need me to do right away?" “Well...” Clyde shrugged, suddenly feeling something amongst the gateway. Turning to it, at first nothing happened, but then suddenly the gateway shrunk, closing upon itself and vanishing in a moment, sealing the link to Shoyden, and leaving behind the mundane scrawling of the gateway. “I guess it closed. Good think you took all the samples you were going to. Anyways... Not really sure what else, I suppose that concludes the summoning and such at least. Although I guess you'll need to clean the room or whatever before we take off the protective gear.”

[Inoadar]

Inoadar quickly sealed the last container of Vilemoss. He did not remove any of the anti-contamination gear at that point, and nodded at Clyde to confirm that there was, indeed, much clean-up to attend to.

He set to wiping things down with an alcohol-soaked rag, and spraying the air as well. He wiped down nearby shelves and tables, then started in on the floor. He spent several chimes working in from the perimeter of the area where the summoning circle had been. He stopped short of infringing on any of the glyphs though.

He finally took his mask off and took a few tentative sniffs. He smelled nothing but the sterilizing alcohol. So he took few breaths through his mouth, and stood up. He felt no sort of ill effect so he nodded at Clyde, "We should be okay now." He put the mask, gloves and frock into a metal bin with a spring-mounted lid, operated by a foot pedal. He indicated for Clyde to do the same.

By this time, Vera had the "steam tank" ready. He signaled her through the lab door window, and she wheeled it out. It was nothing special, just a small boiler with an extension leading to a sealed chamber topped by a condensation coil. The water in the boiler was not bubbling too rapidly, just a gentle rolling boil.

Inoadar went and retrieved his hand-held pump, full of the planet's air. He directed his comments to Clyde, "I had originally thought to keep this atmosphere sample to run tests on, but now I think it might be best to inject into this chamber. It may help the moss keep longer. And frankly, this litmus strip here suggests a higher acidic content than our own. I think it may need that to survive longer."

He attached an additional chamber to the side of the "steam tank" and pumped the air samples in through a one-way valve, letting the pressure equalize by releasing a different valve in the connecting seal. He then withdrew the attached chamber and scrubbed it out with alcohol. "I don't know if that's going to make any difference, but I don't see how it can hurt."

He nodded toward the floor where the glyphs were. "Is there anything you need to do before I scrub them clean? Do you know how long this stuff usually lasts after it's collected?" He was on his way to the Ice house to gather up a beaker full of ice-cold balls of glass as he asked this. He would put them in a bag with a particular reagent powder and shake it to coat them. Then he took it back to the ice house.

He came back out, and paused for a moment, "Now that I know it's an acidic and humid atmosphere, I can proceed with a likely process. If you want to stay and watch, you're certainly welcome to."