Darul called across the bustling bar to Ilron, "Another, mmm, bottle of, mmm, wine, please?" Gesturing to the empty bottle in his hand. Several minutes passed and Ilron was still ignoring him. He asked again, yet nothing happened. Under his breath, Darul muttered about the slow service. Ilron looked at Darul coldly and said: "I can hear you bhetter than yhou could think. Oh, and the whine isn't jhust whine. There's poison in it." Darul stared at Ilron, horrified, and dread gripped his heart. "That'sh the priche of khilling a fhorsaken in Brhill." Of course, the assassin... Sent by his sister, a necrophobe thanks to the Scourge attack. He hadn't seen her since the attack, then the assassin came out of the blue. He tortured her and found out the name. Then, when he confronted his sister, the rage overcame him and he killed her and devoured her.

He quickly set up his alchemy equipment across the bar. Ilron seemed to be giving him a chance. Others may fight with swords, but this was Darul's weapon. A thought flashed across his mind. He stuck his fingers down his throat, triggering the gag reflex. He gagged but nothing happened. The poison seemed to be affecting his stomach... Suddenly a sharp pain exploded in his stomach. He gasped and doubled over in agony. He couldn't die yet, not now. He had to cure it, he wanted to live, but more than just this sham of an existence...

He poured the remainder of the wine bottle through the distiller. It was ingenious. Blood elven design, using the arcane to work but having the scientifical genius of an apothecary. The wine was split into two different components. The wine and... The poison... He then poured the small amount poison through the distiller, separating it into his key components. Ah, he could cure it. He had the herbs on him, he always carried ingredients around. He then doubled over once more as pain erupted through his stomach.

Icecap and plaguebloom, mixed in a pestle and mortar. Goldthorn, soil from an earth elemental and briarthorn. The antidote, combined with the poison used, or sometimes maybe even not a poison, this could cure practically anything. Diseases or poisons. Suddenly a dark fluid dripped from his mouth. He stared at it, eyes wide in shock. By the Dark Lady! Not this fast! He quickly drank the antidote in one gulp.

He didn't feel as bad now. The liquid seemed to have stopped replicating within his stomach. He'd killed it. He turned to Ilron. He'd always been horrible to Darul. He'd always been angry at him for it. He was a genius! An apothecary! But he'd always been trodden underfoot in life, it was always botanist instead of Darul... This was too much. He turned to Ilron: "You, mmm, fool, why!?" Ilron replied in a monotone: "You khilled a Forsaken in Brill, you ghet a single chance. Remember, this life is all we have. No spirit, no afterlife."

Darul turned away for several minutes and contemplated. He then turned to Ilron and said one single, cheeky phrase: "A bottle of, mmm, wine, please. Hold the, mmm, poison." Ilron looked at Darul coldly, "Ghet out." Darul had to drive his point home. "Did I ever get, mmm, paid for that, mmm, truth serum?" Ilron then trudged to the side of the bar and stepped out, weapons drawn. Darul froze and looked at them in shock. "I'll, mmm, leave now..." Ilron replied, "Dho it quickly." Darul hastily walked out of the bar, seething with hatred. He would have his revenge, someday. One cunning act, something that he could not be punished for but it would humiliate Ilron... Mind control... The thing he couldn't accomplish. He would. He would discover how to do it, and then he would have his vengeance...

((If you don't mind, I see the oppurtunity for forum RP to come out of this. If the above happened in-game, obviously I wasn't there, but if it didn't happen in-game, then the following occured. Or perhaps not. Your choice if you reply.))

Tzurkir blew out a smoke ring and stared up at the moon, leaning on the wall of the tavern. He felt a familiar itching in his right arm. A reflex, since his arm no longer existed, but something his brain continued to tell him.

Darul stormed past the troll, who merely smirked and followed after him.

"'Ey! Darul! Slow down. What's bitten ya?"

Tzurkir clamped the pipe between his teeth and breathed in deeply.