At this very moment, Burd was making a bold attempt to consume all of the mead in the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. Later in the evening, he'd be kicked out of the tavern for belligerence toward the proprietor. He'd stumble along the streets for a little while mumbling pathetically to himself about how he couldn't protect anyone anymore. Eventually, one of the guards on patrol, noticing who he was and where he belonged (and pitying the sorry state he was in) would help him back to the castle. Leaving him to stumble in to the common room, long after most of the others had dozed off, and he'd collapse onto the floor neglecting any of the provided bedrolls.

There he would lie until morning, twitching fitfully, as scamps with faces resembling Countess Narina Carvain danced through his dreams burning his city, his home, his wife and everything he cared about. All this happened while the Heroes of Cyrodiil laughed at him hysterically, he unable and they unwilling for lack of proper compensation, to stop it.

OOC: Taking the hint and turning Burd in for the night to move the story along

Byron's eyes snapped open as he groaned at the dull throb in his back, bringing himself up onto his elbows and running his right hand through his hair. He blinked a few times and realized that he was in the Great Hall and groaned once again, the pain in his head and the pain in his back contending for the biggest annoyance award. He rubbed his eye-lids with the tips of his fingers and looked around to see his sleeping future comrades. He gave a prize-winning sneer as he realized that they weren't type of people, and decided that he was going to get this mission done as soon as possible. And if the future Emperor took a shine to him and recommended him for Chief Vizier, well, that would be an added bonus.

He started to get up and wandered out, and eventually found a mirror out in the dining hall. He pulled a brush-comb type of object and ran it through his hair, out of his eyes and to either side. He smiled at himself in the mirror, the image smiling back at him due to dillusion being much more handsome and charming than the original image. He went and retrieved the small bag he had brought with him containing his possessions, then he retrieved the much larger trunk containing the rest of his possessions. He placed what he could about his person and dragged the trunk back to the Great Hall, not caring about the noise he was making. He opened it up and decided what as absolutely essential, carefully sorting things into different piles.

Sid, who had yet to choose a bunk for the night, was full awake as Byron, once again, showed complete and utter disregard for even the most basic courtesies. He watched as the man vacated the Great Hall, and after some time, returned with a large trunk, no doubt containing the man's provisions. What truly irked Sid was the unholy noise made by the man dragging the container across the floor, and amidst the others in the Hall, no less. With a truly defiant look upon his face, Sid marched towards the mage, determined to share a piece of his mind.

"Now see here, Byron," Sid growled angrily at the Breton, stopping on the opposite side of the chest. "I'm sure I haven't the slightest inkling as to what your angle is, and frankly, I don't much care to. What I do know is that for the night, at least, you are through disrupting the others on account of your petty arrogance." Sid lifted up his leg, and firmly planted it on the lid of the large chest, pushing it closed before the Breton man. "Now then, you may make as troublesome a ruckus as you please in the morning, when the rest of our group makes their preparations. Until then, I would wholeheartedly suggest you get some sleep."

At that moment, Sid's blue eyes narrowed into slits of menacing ice. "I trust I make myself clear, Byron?" With the confrontation now behind him, Sid made his way to one of the available bedrolls, one on the far side of the room, and eased himself in. He was none too concerned about the accomodations provided to them; he had made due with far worse in the past. With an important task awaiting just over the proverbial horizon, Sid closed his eyes, and allowed the Azure Dream to clasp him steadfast to her bosom.

Fin slowly blinked his eyes. He hadn't realized how weary the trip from Leyawiin would have made him, and now he was exhausted. He looked around, a bit sluggishly, and quietly alerted everyone else to his need of sleep.

"I think...I think I'm going to go to sleep. Sweet, sweet, sleep." And with that, he turned in for the night.

OOC: Sorry for the crap post; Im tired, I just got back from a NIN concert (It was raining, although that was okay with me, we got there ten minutes after Trent started, and it took us 3 hours to get home, as opposed to the 1 Hr 45 min it was supposed to take. Graaagh. Ill be back to my usual self in about an hour... or three.

Byron's eyes narrowed as that cretin swaggered his way back to his bed, and opened the lid, mockingly careful. He slowly removed provisions and placed them around his bed-roll, and when he was done, slammed it shut with the force of Mehrunes Dagon. He lay back down and smirked as he thought of how easy it was for a bad spell to go off taregt and accidentally hit a team-mate. He would only be able to do this once, he theorized, so he would have to make some sort of points system of how much they all annoyed him. He put Sid right at the top with, say, 3. That piece of mind that Sid had shared must have left his mind quite vacant if he thought that Byron, who had already expressed a dislike of him, wouldn't retaliate. He smiled as he thought of what spell he could use, which would drag out the most, which might even cripple the fool.

He didn't know he had been doing anything wrong, he had simply gotten used to everyone being second to his needs, something that could explain his lack of social skills or even basic human rights comprehension.

OOC: Darkom95, considering IN wanted me and Chaos to continue this rp while she was gone the weekend, I feel the need to advance us into morning now. I'm not sure what you're going to do about you and IN's little chat in the corner, though. But I know she didn't want the rp halting while she was away. So... pardon the time skippage.

IC: The night was hardly a comfortable one for any of the heroes, surely. Even the most grizzled warrior that could tolerate sleeping on solid rock didn't find it comfortable; he just dealt with it. And so the heroes of Cyrodiil spent their night in a condition likened to a soldier on the march. But at least they were in a castle.

Fitful sleep or peaceful, the wake up call the following morning was hardly lavishing either. The door to the main hall was thrust open with all the force of a temperamental child, the clanking of guardsmen boots a rhythmic background beat. The bearded councilor from the previous night, Fraius, was the opener of the door, and his Councilor robes flapped wildly behind him as he stormed to the center. Lyssa was following behind him, looking as distressed as Fraius looked infuriated. His burning eyes gazed around the room, searching.

"Wake up, all of you!" He bellowed, voice carrying remarkably well. His eyes were still searching, and then finally seemed to find their mark. As he strode towards the mercenary with the missing hand, Lyssa tried to get control over him and failed.

"You, gutter-rabble." He snarled through his teeth, looking down at Cole. He didn't trust the man that Crow had chosen to bring along, but he wouldn't dare man-handle some urchin from the streets. Instead he was standing straight and tall over the mercenary, eyes leering. "Did you bring other people with you? Invite others to the castle?"

"If I may inquire as-" Don Leon began, rising from the ground onto one elbow.

"No you may not. You were probably in this plot too, weren't you, mercenary?" The word came out with a sneer as Fraius whirled on Don Leon. The Privateer simply raised his eyebrows as if startled, saying nothing. Fraius seemed to barely be able to contain his anger, and it was a surprise he was maintaining a noble poise.

"Fraius, please! Do not jump to conclusions." Lyssa snapped from behind him, before turning to address Don Leon and the others. "Ocato, we think, has been poisoned. He will not awaken even though he still seems alive."

"And I bet one of you lot let the assassin in, or did it yourself." Fraius commented. Don Leon shook his head.

"Councilor Fraius... I get the feeling you've had a bad childhood with the lower classes of society." That was all he said, sitting up and fastening his dagger to his hip.

"I'm afraid we don't have any idea who did this. The guards are summoning an alchemist at this moment. Is everyone alright here?" Lyssa explained.

Having been awakened by the doors slamming opening, Cole raised his head, rolling his shoulders around, trying to work out the kinks from the previous nights uncomfortable slumber. He took his pipe, which had been hanging out of his mouth the entire night, and put it back in it's place in an interior pocket of his coat.

"You, gutter-rabble. Did you bring other people with you? Invite others to the castle?"

The councilor from the day before was standing over him, quivering with rage, although he did not show any intent to physically assault Cole. His discontentment with the way things had gone yesterday, along with a poor night's sleep on a cold stone floor did not aid much in satiating Cole's already deteriorating mood. Some of the others were coming awake, and Don Leon had addressed the councilor, only to be shot down immediately. Although his body was still somewhat stiff and lethargic, Cole could feel his blood begin to boil. His hand slid down to the sword at his side, and as he rose slowly to his feet, he allowed the blade to flash momentarily in the light of the hall as it was pulled from his scabbard. His body relaxed, holding the sword lightly, almost casually in his hand, he remained stock-still.

"Ocato, we think, has been poisoned. He will not awaken even though he still seems alive."

The lone female councilor sounded panicked, as she tried to both calm Fraius and relay information to the group. Narrowing his eyes, Cole's voice dropped into a low dangerous tone.

"I had no reason to bring anyone with me here. I told no one of this meeting, and I've spoken to no one about it since."

Using his stumped arm to push back his hood, his eyes bored directly into those of Fraius.

"And know this, councilor... if this had been my doing, Ocato would be sleeping his final slumber in a pool of his own blood, with his innards shoved up his nose. I'm a killer, not a prankster. Think that through before you say another word to me."

He nodded to the frightened Lyssa, his voice showing no signs of sympathy, although the violence in his eyes had diminished slightly, replaced by a calculating shine.

"You should round up the castle servants. Find out exactly what Ocato ate and drank yesterday, and who served it to him."

With that he turned his attention back to Fraius, staring him down, waiting for the councilor's next move, still gripping his sword.

Fraius grit his teeth at the mercenary, clenching his fists within his robes. However, rather than lash back at Cole, he replied to the 'advice' of the man. "We have already done that. He consumed nothing from this castle beside the wine you all drank, and ate nothing but what we as well ate with him on the travel here."

"Whatever this was, it was specifically targeted towards him." Lyssa added, composing herself. "Now, if all of you are safe, and unharmed, we can go await the coming of the alchemist and their diagnosis."

"I appear to be fine, m'lady." Don Leon stated as he rose to his feet, rapier strapped to his hip now and crossbow being slung over his shoulder.

A guardsman entered the room, stopping at the entrance and standing straight, looking directly to the two Councilors. "All persons in the castle have been located, and identified. We have yet to find anyone that is not a regular resident, nor have any breeches to the castle been found, currently."

"Keep looking." Fraius ordered sternly. "And where is that alchemist? Do any of you know alchemy?"

Strafer was already awake when the angry councilor barged in like an upset child, although he was startled by the councilors entrance; slamming the door and immediately questioning one of Imperials in the room, very unprofessionally. However that was outside the point, the female councilor behind the questioning one stated that Ocato may have been poisoned. The left side of the Argonians brow shot upwards in surprise. Poisoned? Who would benefit from such a feat?, he stroked his chin in a thoughtful gesture, Wouldn't the chancellor have brought bodyguards of some sort?

A Guard then entered the room, "All persons in the castle have been located, and identified. We have yet to find anyone that is not a regular resident, nor have any breeches to the castle been found, currently." At that, Strafer nodded his head slowly, Perhaps one of the residents here is a spy...?, he casually withdrew the dagger sheathed on his thigh, and began cleaning his finger 'claws'. Or maybe Ocacto's age finally caught up with him...

"Keep looking." Councilor Fraius ordered the guard sternly. "And where is that alchemist? Do any of you know alchemy?" At the question, Strafer shook his head. He could cook exponentially, but mixing things together to make potions was not his area of expertise, but it didn't stop the Argonian from at least trying.

ooc: Ugh, short post...

At the mention of Alchemy, Byron's eyes snapped open. He was a rather good Alchemist, it was his secondary study in the field of magic. He was in the Mage's Guild for a few years, and had been taught all he needed to know about the basics. He had taken to alchemy rather quickly, and wagered he could help out Ocato pretty easily. He raised his hand, rubbing his eye-lids with his other, "I have a grasp of Alchemy, but first, why the bloody hell did you force me to lie on this dog's bed and THEN wake me from the precious sleep I managed to grab?" He got up, opening the trunk he had dragged in last night, rummaging through, "I think I still have my mortar, and maybe my crucibal" He fished them out, and turned to them. "Quick, take me to Ocato, this situation could be as hairy as your face, sir!" He said this without a smirk, and started to walk towards the door.

He thought about the situation briefly, if this went well he could be recommended for a knight-hood, or even given land! It was all working out for Byron, he was curing the current head of the empire! Wait till his parents and Mages' Guild bosses hear about THIS! He walked over to the bearded man, and breathed in sharply, "Aren't you all lucky I'm here, or you'd all probably still be romping around this town looking for someone with HALF my skill" He gave a self-satisfied smirk, clearly relishing this clear display of superiority. He didn't get these often.

Babur's eyes slid open, barely, but he remained motionless through the shouting, partially wondering if he were in a dream. Who's being accused of what now? Ocato? What? The orc sat up and blinked, trying to focus his eyes on the very angry men standing in the room.

"We have already done that. He consumed nothing from this castle beside the wine you all drank, and ate nothing but what we as well ate with him on the travel here."
"Whatever this was, it was specifically targeted towards him."

Though still asleep, Babur now felt much more deeply concerned than he had a few moments ago. He began to piece together what he could with a half-awake mind, and became steadily more alarmed at what was going on- though it showed only subtly in his face, mostly due to the sudden awakening. If it was Ocato that was poisoned, and not one of us, then...but...why? What would that accomplish? Was the poisoner sending a message? Too late? Shortsighted? Was this intended to destabilize the council? A hundred questions arose in his head without answers.

One question, though, he could answer. He stood up quickly, raising a hand and saying in crisp Nibenayan aristocratic tones, "I too am a practitioner of alchemy. I have plied the art for seven years, and I have used it to save myself from a menagerie of poisons and diseases. Please, take me to the councilor." This being said, he straightened his clothes, and walked up behind Byron with his hands folded behind his back. It was true that his knack for working alchemy had saved his neck on multiple occasions, but he thought his skill might still be secondary to someone like Byron, who must have practiced it for most of his life. "I will assist you in any way I can," he added to Byron, reminding himself of the breton's temper.

OOC: I believe IN and I could use a flashback, so that should work. Or summarize the talk during the journey or at a later date, whatever she decides. Just wanted to say, so that conversation will be covered. On to the IC.

IC: Fathis woke up in his cozy bed at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. He removed the covers and threw a quick glance over the side of the bed against the wall, to ensure his pack was still hidden underneath. Satisfied, he stood up in his large homely room, feeling the carpet under his bare feet.

He took out his bulky pack and drew out his favorite upper class black coat and leggings and put it on over his burgundy shirt, tucking some lockpicks in his pockets as he did so. He also slipped into his black and gold silken shoes, drawing out several more items from his pack: cloth bags, filled with coins, two rings, and his blunt dagger. He also pocketed his invitation from yesterday, and a forged note that invited him as a rich noble instead of the Fox.

Sufficiently armed, he donned his pack and made his way to the door. Before opening it, however, he inspected himself in the mirror. He took a few minutes to fix his hair into the affluent appearance it was so used to. The illusion complete, Fathis opened the door and made his way down the stairs. He paid the imperial proprietor with one of his bags of gold and left the inn, leaving a large tip.

Fathis then trotted down the street until he reached the bridge crossing the moat that ran through the city. He crossed both bridges and the island that connected the two, and then walked straight towards the wall that surrounded the city. He spotted the barrel he was looking for, marked by a crescent moon, the symbol of the Thieves Guild. He took his blunt dagger and carved a small GF into the lid, then opened the container and placed his pack inside. Far down the wall, he spotted a ragged looking man, whom he could safely assume was a beggar. Fathis whistled three times and, once the beggar whistled twice back, the Fox quickly and stealthily made his way back to the street.

Fathis walked back down the street once more, in the opposite direction, towards the castle. He stopped before the gates the castle courtyard and began the slow process of changing his face. Different muscles contracted, loosened. His smile, his eyes, his lips; all changed. 'Why would I need a cowl if I can change my face already?' Fathis smiled his unfamiliar smile as he walked into the corridors of the castle, looking busy.

Burd squinted painfully in the morning light pouring into the common room from the high windows. His head felt like it had been split open, scooped clean and stuffed with wet cotton. The shouting wasn’t helping either, though it was slightly muffled by the ringing in his ears. He raised himself to a cross-legged sitting position ever so slowly, so that the sloshing feeling was minimized, and surveyed the damage of last night’s binge.

The first thing he noticed was that he hadn’t made it to a bedroll. That explains why my neck is also killing me, he mused to himself rubbing the offending spot with a mailed hand. He looked at his hand for a moment, didn’t change out of the armor either. He grimaced and glanced to the source of that irritating shouting that seemed to pound his head like a wooden mallet.

Oh Gods, Burd thought exasperatingly at seeing the argument at hand. Maybe I’d better go over and make sure it doesn’t get ugly… and pokey. He especially didn’t like the daggers that the councilor and Cole were staring at each other. Pulling himself to his feet he strolled as steadily as he could over between the two men making steely eyes at both of them in turn.

“Looks like enough people are yammering about unhelpfully already,” He said calmly, attempting to defuse the situation before anyone unwisely drew arms, “and I know about as much about alchemy as an argonian knows about shaving.” He put a gently restraining hand on Cole’s chest indicating that the mercenary shouldn’t do anything they’d all regret, as he made eye contact with the councilor. This was also meant to convey that Burd, big-imposing-battle-hardened Nord that he was, would be in the way if the councilor or the guards continued to behave rashly as well. “So, I only have one question; what can we who are not apothecaries,” he nodded including himself, Cole and any others around the room who applied, “do to help resolve this situation?” Then he returned his gaze, eyebrow cocked questioningly and warningly, back to the counsilor.

OOC: That face shaping thing is a very nice if creepy touch, btw, Darkom. For some reason it was easy to visualize even though the description was short.

Sid was awoken by the frantic accusations and accompanying dialogue of the two councilors as the barged rather loudly into the Hall, informing the group of the good Chancellor Ocato's current condition. Still rather groggy from his abrupt awakening, the Breton made a mental check of his own physical health at Lyssa's insistence, and could find no obvious signs of illness. Good grief, Sid thought to himself, getting to his feet. We have yet to leave Cyrodiil, and already the head of the Elder Council has been the target of some scheme. It seemed the journey would be every bit as eventful as Sid had hoped, and then some.

As the others responded to the two councilors queries, or in some cases offered their assistance on behalf of Ocato's plight, Sid straightened his jacket about his frame, and made his way towards the centre of the room. He had no skill in the alchemical craft, and he imagined that between the two councilors they had ample enough gold to pay any alchemist they might seek out; there was very little he could do to assist. Nevertheless, he turned towards the duo, and nodded his head politely.

"I pray the good Chancellor's health improves, good sir and lady," he remarked, addressing the two councilors in turn. "The Empire has had its fair share of political turmoil in the past few months to fill a decade, and Ocato strikes me a decent sort. Let us hope for his recovery." He turned towards the Nord in their midst, the good Captain Burd, who had voiced his own thoughts on how those unpracticed in alchemy might help. "I share in your sentiments, comrade. If there is anything I, Sid Lucas, can offer in aid, please do not hesitate to ask."

Fin hissed and got up, slowly. His back ached; the bedroll was thin and threadbare, barely providing any protection from the cold stone floors. Obviously, heroes weren't going to get any special treatment. And, by the looks of the situation, Fin would have to take up his grievances another time and in another place; two of the Councilors or some such nobles burst into the room, one making wild accusations and the other trying to placate him. However, they both made on thing clear; someone had poisoned Ocato. Perhaps not with the intent to kill the pompous bastard, but definitely to incapacitate him. Fin could only speculate the reason of this; was there some dire role or information Ocato would play in events that weren't in someones interests? And even more, who would take on such a risky endeavor? And who could pull it off, unnoticed?

Fin voiced his opinions. "Yes, yes...we should all be looking for the cure. But isn't anyone here wondering who exactly could do something like this? Or why? It would take some smooth operators to pull something like this off without being detected, at all, and it would take men with no fear at all; only a mad man would poison Ocato. Any Ideas? Hmm?" He looked around, seeing if anyone had even thought of this.

Byron eyes narrowed without looking around, The BEAST knows alchemy? What would he use it for other than using zesty herbs in his Horse Stew?. He didn't say this aloud, because he knew that he would probably need a secondary alchemist to help him before the specializied one got here. He huffed, turning around to face the Orc, a smirk crossed his face but then quickly vanished as he said "I'll take help from anybody at this point I suppose. As long as you know a basic grasp of poisons and how to treat them you'll be some use. Would you mind carrying my Crucible, my small frame isn't really fairing well with it".

This ORC could be useful, he was probably good with carrying things, which was one of Byron's weak areas. He had always been a pampered noble, he had never needed to carry things, so he naturally had the muscle mass of a veal. And if he helped with the Alchemy side of things then so be it, but he doubted that he needed it excessively, seeing as the majority of his life had been spent in the gardens, hurting things and mixing herbs and plants. Sometimes using herbs and plants to hurt things. Yes, he was better at making poisons then curing them, but they needn't know that, he didn't need to be a suspect in all of this.

Byron gestured towards the door, "Any time you feel like taking us to him would be fantastic, you know, so he doesn't die".

Fraius looked at Burd for a moment as he came between him and Cole, before forcing himself to look back at Byron and nod. his eyes looked displeased at the idea of an Orc alchemist, but nonetheless, he moved towards the door. "Right this way." He led them out the door and down the hall.

Lyssa remained, looking about the group. "Those of you who are not apothecaries can continue preparing for your trip. And where's Crow?"

Don Leon thumbed at the divider in the corner. "The lady Crow has her own divided space, perhaps she is dressing?"

Lyssa frowned at this, unsure; that didn't sound like Crow. She strode over to the divider and tapped the wall with her knuckle, before moving around the divider. She bent over, her hind quarters sticking out from where the divider stopped dividing. "By Akatosh! Crow's been poisoned too!" Don Leon frowned at this, walking over to the divider. With a calm sweep of his hand the divider was brushed aside, folding into the corner.

Crow lay there in her clothes, her face pale and clammy. Don Leon bent down and felt her neck while the Councilor was doing the same. There was a pulse. "This isn't good."
-------------------------------------
They finally reached Ocato's chambers, Fraius opening the door quickly. The room itself was lavish, but not as decorated as the Count of Cheydinhal's. On a large bed lay Ocato, still underneath the covers, his eyes closed and chest barely moving as he breathed. The golden skin of the altmer was faded and pale. Ocato made a muffled muttering, but otherwise did not move.

"We found him like this." Fraius informed them. "The door was intact and window closed."

They arrived in Ocato's chambers and Byron immediately half-ran towards where Ocato lay, examing him and feeling his pulse. He opened ocato's eyes and saw them wide, bloodshot and darting around wildly, almost lolled over completely. "From what I can tell this poison was designed to Paralyze and cause extreme pain for the victim. You can see by the way Ocato's eyes dart around and silently scream in their sockets" He looked up, his lips moving slightly, his often hateful eyes now deep in contemplation. "Someone get me some Aloe Vera Leaves, Ambrosia, Blood Grass, and a Cairn Bolete Cap. The former two ingrediants will have a calm, health restoring effect, and the latter ingrediants will help him resist the paralysis. This won't cure him, but it'll let him hold out until the specialized Alchemist gets here, that know-it-all will be able to find the cure"

When the ingrediants were given to him he quickly put them into his Mortar and Pestle and started to mash them up, he then added water and put it into his Retort, distilling it for a good efw minutes. He then withdrew an empty vial from a small puch on the belt of his robes and poured the liquid in, pressing it to Ocato's lips until it had vanished, then tilting his head back so that he swallowed it. He opened Ocato's eyes again, they were less frantic and pained now, but still held a pained look. Byron cursed and did the same process, until all traces of discomfort in Ocato's eyes were gone. "This effect will last for about half an hour, maybe more, so hurry and get me a specialist! Orc, I need you to help me keep remaking this potion, just in case someone else is stricken by poison!"

He was all business now, for now pettiness had died away, he was in his element. At least, until he stopped mixing poisons, then he would become an [censored] once more. If he were to hazard a guess he would have to say that the poison was most likely Daedra Venin and Nightshade, but he wouldn't voice this until he had gotten a testimony for Ocato, he wasn't an expert alchemist, perhaps a very skilled Journeyman, but no expert. This would need a testimony from Ocato himself, and quickly, who knows what else the poison could be doing to him. He smirked as he thought of the other ill people he'd been forced to treat over the years, most of them survived, apart from a few peasants. They didn't count anyway.

"Have you searched the room for any stains on the carpet? If one drop of poison got anywhere in this room it'll greatly improve our chances of discerning what ingrediants went into it, and when we know that, we'll know what ingrediants will counter it" He was finally doing what he did best, they had been using their charm and intelligence last night, but now social skills didn't come into it, all that he needed to do was use what he was good at, Alchemy.

Babur frowned, in thought as he began work on the potion. Now given the opportunity, he began to ask a few of the questions he had asked himself earlier, as well as some simple ideas.
"Make sure nobody leaves the castle, of course. And have you tried a basic dispel to ensure that the effects are not purely magical?" When the preparation of Byron's antidote was to a point where the mixture had to sit for several minutes, he paused and walked toward Ocato, his eyes searching him intently for any signs of skin discoloration, besides the paleness.

"Did anyone hear any peculiar noises from this room? Try to question all the servants who passed through this part of the castle last night." Babur checked Ocato's pulse with two fingers on the altmer's neck. "There are some herbs which can be used to induce a coma, but I have never encountered one such poison, so I know of no cure. But I do not know why this would be the case for Chancellor Ocato. There is no reason for an assassin to simply incapacitate Ocato for a while, or kill him slowly. It is simply inefficient, if you would beg my pardon for saying so," he added to the others in the room for any who might object to his blunt explanation. "But if someone wanted to kill the man, they would have done it. Perhaps this poisoner indeed doesn't want the chancellor dead, just out of activity for a while." Stepped back and put a hand over his chin, the other arm crossed over his chest, as he scrutinized the lump of altmer with an intense gaze.

"Well, with his face as it is, it may very well be the case that a coma was induced. Potions that force extended sleep are more 'gentle', paralyzation poisons would render him stiff as a board, and if someone had used a poison with the intent of killing the Chancellor, he would either be in much worse conditions or dead already. Beg pardon, again," he added.

Burd relaxed visibly when Councilor Fraius turned and lead those who had volunteered their services out of the common room. Not even out the door and there’s already trouble. He faced the mercenary, frowned and made sure he had the man’s full attention before he spoke.

“Crow trusts you enough to bring you into the fold and I trust her with my life. But, all I’ve seen you do so far is insult and threaten the people who are asking for our help. It may be wise, my friend, to start proving your worth in some way, reputation with her will only get you so far with me.” He lowered his hand from the man’s chest but didn’t break his gaze until Councilor Lyssa’s exclamation.

“By Akatosh! Crow’s been poisoned too!”

Burd left the mercenary, after giving him another meaningful look, and trotted over to where Don Leon and the councilor stood over Crow. He cast a worried look at her unmoving form, and then turned to Councilor Lyssa frowning questioningly, “Looks like we’re not leaving for the time being, and I’d personally like to find the bastard who’s picking us off.” He punched one armored hand with the other for emphasis, “Where should I start looking?”

OOC: BTW, Babur is awesome, Tom, Reminds me of Beast from the X-Men

"Well, according to the guards, nowhere." Don Leon responded to Burd, looking slightly stressed. "Is this different from Ocato's condition?"

"No, it looks the same. Perhaps the same poisoner?" Lyssa asked, but Don Leon was stroking his goatee instead of immediately answering. "Well?"

"Could be two poisoners, working in concert." Don Leon answered. "It is unlikely one could strike two distant targets in the same night with quick ease." He walked away from Crow's mat and plucked up his cloak from the ground, slinging it around his shoulders and clasping it together. "But... why would they poison her in such a way? She is still alive. It is puzzling they did not kill her swiftly."
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"The guards have searched the area and found nothing unusual." Fraius stated, looking to the orc as he made his statement about the inefficiency of this poisoning. Something dawned in Fraius' eyes, and he frowned beneath his beard. "I think I know why they may have done this." His voice was low as he looked between the two Heroes, and his next words came out with difficulty. "To cause distrust and unrest within the group. It is the most likely reason, other than incapacitating High Chancellor Ocato."

"I found the best alchemist in town." The small bosmeri Councilor proclaimed, entering the room followed by an Altmeri woman in a green silk shirt and skirt. She bowed to Councilor Fraius, introducing herself as Eilonwy, but paused when she noticed Byron there. She seemed tense, but then gained control of herself and moved over to the other side of the bed and looked at Ocato.

Like Byron, she peeled upon his eyes, but she also opened his mouth and inspected his tongue and gums. Her hand ran down his arm and lightly tapped here and there, testing for some sort of reaction. "The movement of the eyes suggests mild pain, and lack of reaction either a coma or paralysis. Combined with the pain, likely paralysis. What have you been giving him recently?" She asked, looking to Byron. She hadn't considered the possibility that the Orc was a part of this treatment procedure.

"A rather simple cure, made up of Aloe Vera, Ambrosia, Blood Grass and Cairn Bolete, the pain was much worse before I gave him it" He watched the Altmer examine Ocato, and seemd frustrated that he hadn't thought of examing his mouth and arms. He dismissed it at the thought of saving some work for her, and that fact was now concrete and had officially happened. He gave her a tired look and said "I know there's probably Nightshade in the poison, but the ingrediant which could cause this coma-like state is a mystery to me. I'd originally thought Daedra Venin, but due to the difficult means you have to use to acquire that ingrediant, coupled with the fact Ocato isn't as rigid as a regular paralysed man, that it would be some sort of magic" He didn't try to hide the smugness in his voice, he let it radiate off of him like heat from the sun.

He handed her a vial containing his improvised anasthetic and pocketed the rest they had produced, he had a feeling that the would-be assassins targeted somebody else. "Causing a rift between his wouldn't be difficult at this stage, I dare say" He said with a smirk, thinging of how at each other's throats they really were, and how futile this whole escapade would be. They hadn't even left the castle and the head of the Empire had been poisoned! He chuckled under his breath and turned to the Orc, he should really learn his name. Probably Ugg. Or Ogg. "Do you know of any herbs that could cause a coma of this magnitude? Think hard, please, even though this won't kill Ocato it's still going to cause panic until we solve it".

"Actually, it will kill him." Eilonwy interrupted Byron, looking solemn. She held up his makeshift remedy and nodded her head. "This will only reduce the pain, not the paralysis or the fatality." She handed Byron back his potion, still looking solemn.

"I've seen this before. It's not muscle rigidity. It's outright paralysis, complete loss of muscle control. We can move him, but he cannot move himself." She explained, rubbing Ocato's throat and searching for his pulse. "I've seen this before, in a case we were certain the Dark Brotherhood had a part in. The man died a week later, and we still haven't found the cure."

"So... The Dark Brotherhood targeted Ocato with a week-long fatal poison?" The Bosmer Councilor repeated incredulously. Eilonwy nodded.

"Has anyone else been poisoned?" She asked, looking at the members of the room. The Councilors shook their heads, but then Lyssa entered the room, along with two guards. Without a word they brushed aside the alchemists around Ocato and hoisted him from the bed.

"Crow has been poisoned as well. I'm moving Ocato to the main hall along with her, to give you more room to work on both of them and allow the whole group to discuss the situation." Lyssa explained, as the guards carried Ocato delicately out of the bedroom. He was limp as a rag doll.
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When the guards arrived in the main hall, they brought Ocato to a mat beside Crow in the center of the room. The Councilors followed behind them along with Eilonwy, all of them looking solemn.

"The poison is paralytic and painful, and currently without a cure." Eilonwy announced in a slightly shaky voice. "I suspect the Dark Brotherhood is to blame, and we need to act before this week is through, or they will both die."

OOC: I'm going to be going soon for a little while, should be back in a couple of hours though.

"The only one I can think of that may have caused this," Babur said thoughtfully, "is a poison I have only ever heard of, and never seen in use. It is called Languorwine...but I am nearly certain that it was not the cause of this. Languorwine simulates the effects of death, putting the subject into a deep coma. There is an antidote for it, but as I said, I have never seen either the poison or said antidote. And the poison is generally applied through direct introduction into the bloodstream. I don't know what would happen if one were to ingest it." Babur had actually heard of this poison at a certain shrine northeast of the Imperial City, but he thought it better to omit that fact. It would not serve to help find a cure, in any case.

"And if it is is the handiwork of those gentlemen," he added dryly, in reference to the Dark Brotherhood, "then we may as well have a completely unknown substance in the Chancellor's system." Babur had done his best to avoid any affiliation with the Brotherhood, whom he thought little of, but he had to admit that they knew their way around a humanoid body just as well as many good alchemists.

"I never intended it to cure it, because I didn't know what the poison WAS. If I tried and cured it and used an incorrect antidote I would've only made it worse" He said this coldly and consisely, looking down his nose at the Altmeri, and seeing as she was a foot or so taller than him that was an accomplishment. "I have all of the equipment you'll need, a Mortar and Pestle and a Retort, and I'm sure the servants will fetch anything you ask for. Take it away, meistro" He said boredly, kneeling down beside Crow and giving her the pain-reliever. He then went back to his mat and retrieved his wine glass, finishing off what little was left in it. It was going to be a LONG day.

He walked back over, looking down at the two, then looking at the Alchemist. At least I could kill her with little to no effort He thought mildly, rotating his hand and fingers to form a small fireball in his hand, then crushing it out of existence. He had an idea, he heated up the vial containing the pain reliever with another small fireball, then drank the contents. He scrunched his face up in disgust, but he got a buzz off of it. It was an old Apprentice trick, potions capable of relieving pain heated up could give the person ingesting it a slight high, and a small smile came to his face. One of the many advantages of being a mage.

"The Brotherhood" He mused, putting the vial back into his pouch, "They asked me to join them once. I denied, but I wonder what my life would be like if I had joined them. Maybe i would be in a comfortable bed right now, instead of trying to find a cure for an unkown poison at this ungodly hour. Maybe he would even be the poisoner.