Málean leans over to where Rallaak's kit is set up. "Ooooh, this kit should do nicely. Mind if I take a look?" Before really waiting for an answer, Málean engages with Rallaak’s kit. Running the sample through the kit again, he tweaks the gyration by a few degrees and sticks his face up close to the vial. Probably closer than a safety manual would recommend.
“This poison shares enough unique identifiers with the extract from a rare plant I’ve read of to make a fairly probable conclusion. It’s a plant with orange flowers and bluish greenery. I haven't seen it in ages. As far as I know, it only grows in biomes that have remained undisturbed. The buds of the plant can be crushed into an extract that if entered into a circulatory system will hinder both biological and magical ways of healing. I seem to remember the leaves have the opposite effect, acting as something of an antidote to cancel out the poison from the bud. This, interestingly enough, makes the plant not at all poisonous if consumed completely together. An issue however is that should the extract from the flower bud be mixed with some other weaker poison, as it likely have been, it would be exponentially more effective.”
Terrence listens to this discourse with great apparent interest, nodding, raising his eyebrows, making "mmhmm" noises, and occasionally shuddering convulsively with the dry heaves. "Yes, I see. And how long until I die, do you suppose?"
"Well, that depends entirely on the second poison. On that note we should try to identify the second reagent in Fennix's system. Finding the antidote to that should, while perhaps not wake the high lord back up, hopefully stave off the immediate danger of further degradation of his health.
"Esteemed avian,” he says to Rallaak, “did this sample come from the high lord? That should be where the highest concentration of the poison would be found.”
"Let's get this show on the road, then,” Terrence says. “Give me one of those dirty syringes and I'll—" Terrence attempts to stand, but falls to the floor again, pulling a chair over on top of himself. "Would one of you be a dear and have the servants bring me my armor and weapons. I am chilled and sore afraid. The darkness is closing in."
"What show are you talking about?” Quiberron asks. “And shouldn't we draw that sample from High Lord Fennix first? As far as I know he's in his room, not the road. If we could identify the other poison, that should greatly lessen the strain on both your and his system".
Rallaak snaps to as he thinks for a moment. "Uh, wait. What? OH! The sample? I obtained from Quiberron then a sample from Terrence," he said as he was zoned out and a bit surprised at the findings since then. "I am trying to pin the name down of the poison. If I knew a bit more about it, I could look to see if I could make an antidote; but without the name of the poison it's a little harder."
"Well, then I suppose I should go and get a primary source." Málean reaches for a syringe, sanitizes it with a candle, and sets out to find Fennix's room. A few minutes later Málean comes back from the lord's chambers with hurried steps. "Esteemed avian, I got a sample of the High Lord's blood. Quickly, please help me set it up with that wondrous tool kit of yours."
Rallaak gives a nod, already cleaning some of the old vials on his equipment as clear fluids run through the tubes, resetting his gear. "All cleaned. Let's test and see what we can find if you are keen to help."
Málean quickly runs the blood through the kit, focusing intently on the task at hand.
They discover that the poison is made from a venomous giant scorpion. A good apothecary may have ingredients for an antidote—or at least know where you could get the ingredients. Málean goes over what they'll need to make the antidote with Rallaak. He looks toward the hallway, then back to Rallaak, then at the toolkit, then back at the hallway. "I promised that red haired chap I'd help him out." He looks back at Rallaak, "and that should be all we need to know to make the antidote." Then back again to the hallway "And he's already been waiting for a while." He looks back at Rallaak. "Please hurry," he says, and he rushes out of the mansion.
Rallaak sets off shortly after Málean.
In a dangerous political climate, several expeditions are made to the infamous Wilds in hopes of expanding the country, Urbane, and avoiding an all out civil war. But, when the lord in charge of the excursions is almost assassinated, tensions increase and put new pressures on the brave explorers.