*
Chuckling slightly, Verin’s eyes twinkled as he watched Master Parnell wince in pain when he touched the remnants of the Aconite flower. He had to give the man credit, Parnell was living up to his own description – trying out the poisons for himself. Though he wondered if, eventually, that particular habit would come to be useless, either through cross contamination, or just through a natural resistance that the man was now building up to all poisons. Having only discovered that adverse reaction when it came into contact with his own skin, Verin knew what Parnell was suffering, and noted that it was a similar reaction to what he remembered.
“Not pleasant, is it?” Came the rhetorical question as Master Parnell rose and headed over to the stream, presumably in order to relieve some of the pain, though Verin doubted he would find any relief from the alkaloid. “What I love about this beautiful plant is the… shadow of death that rests all around it, and its victims; it affects the mind as well as the body.” Verin didn’t move from where he was crouched as he turned to look back at the plant.
When Aconite was given to a victim, that victim often became hypersensitive. Pain, touch, hear-ing and smell, even maybe sight could be affected by the poison. Where the pain isn’t intolerable for the victim, they would likely be numb, the stark contrast driving them to the brink. “Be glad that it’s only on your skin, Master Parnell,” he called over to the poisoner, “Anxiety and paranoia are also recorded symptoms of victims. They fear that they are about to die; the panic is as great as the pain. It drives you to madness before it kills you.” Verin also suspected that the psychological turmoil actually accelerated the physical symptoms.
The splash surprised Verin and he looked up to see the poisoncrafter in the water, “Woah!” He went to stand up and rush over to his associate and help him, and he did his best to disguise his bark of amusement as a cough. However, he forgot about the plant heads lying on the ground beneath him, and it was mere ticks after he stood up that he realised his own fingers were covered in residue venom. Cursing violently, he made his way over to the stream too; even if the water would not be an antidote, the cool sensation would relieve the pain for a little while.
But the blond stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the serpent, who was latched on to Parnell’s arm. He blinked, “that’s unfortunate…” was his only thought, and he nodded and turned, searching for the other’s pack. By this point he was gritting his teeth; it was taking a remarkable amount of self-control to not scratch or rub the stinging fingers, which he kept carefully cradled, ensuring that it didn’t touch anything else. It took a chime or two, but he finally found a bag, and he shook it out of the pack before standing and handing it over to the poisoncrafter, “Never a dull moment out here, is it?”
*
Chuckling slightly, Verin’s eyes twinkled as he watched Master Parnell wince in pain when he touched the remnants of the Aconite flower. He had to give the man credit, Parnell was living up to his own description – trying out the poisons for himself. Though he wondered if, eventually, that particular habit would come to be useless, either through cross contamination, or just through a natural resistance that the man was now building up to all poisons. Having only discovered that adverse reaction when it came into contact with his own skin, Verin knew what Parnell was suffering, and noted that it was a similar reaction to what he remembered.
“Not pleasant, is it?” Came the rhetorical question as Master Parnell rose and headed over to the stream, presumably in order to relieve some of the pain, though Verin doubted he would find any relief from the alkaloid. “What I love about this beautiful plant is the… shadow of death that rests all around it, and its victims; it affects the mind as well as the body.” Verin didn’t move from where he was crouched as he turned to look back at the plant.
When Aconite was given to a victim, that victim often became hypersensitive. Pain, touch, hear-ing and smell, even maybe sight could be affected by the poison. Where the pain isn’t intolerable for the victim, they would likely be numb, the stark contrast driving them to the brink. “Be glad that it’s only on your skin, Master Parnell,” he called over to the poisoner, “Anxiety and paranoia are also recorded symptoms of victims. They fear that they are about to die; the panic is as great as the pain. It drives you to madness before it kills you.” Verin also suspected that the psychological turmoil actually accelerated the physical symptoms.
The splash surprised Verin and he looked up to see the poisoncrafter in the water, “Woah!” He went to stand up and rush over to his associate and help him, and he did his best to disguise his bark of amusement as a cough. However, he forgot about the plant heads lying on the ground beneath him, and it was mere ticks after he stood up that he realised his own fingers were covered in residue venom. Cursing violently, he made his way over to the stream too; even if the water would not be an antidote, the cool sensation would relieve the pain for a little while.
But the blond stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the serpent, who was latched on to Parnell’s arm. He blinked, “that’s unfortunate…” was his only thought, and he nodded and turned, searching for the other’s pack. By this point he was gritting his teeth; it was taking a remarkable amount of self-control to not scratch or rub the stinging fingers, which he kept carefully cradled, ensuring that it didn’t touch anything else. It took a chime or two, but he finally found a bag, and he shook it out of the pack before standing and handing it over to the poisoncrafter, “Never a dull moment out here, is it?”
*