|There was a brief grimace of distaste, and Malcotin shook his head. “They were mostly mindless, more like Scourge than anything. I managed to take some of her research papers with me. The files about the experiments on the undead. I found out how she manipulated my…genetic structure and my innate resistance to the plague.” he nearly crushes his brandy snifter, before setting it down for another refill.|
Taking several deep breaths, he finally turns to Keelath. “Not every race reacts the same way. I have since then found myself delving deeper into the mysteries of it all. I am so close…but I have many years of experimentation behind me. I mainly use battlefield casualties for my research. Well, I did at least until recently. Now that the battles are not so frequent or devastating.” he sighs.
“I find myself in need of volunteers and subjects to study. I would rather use willing subjects and to advance the knowledge of how to avoid undeath from crippling those afflicted with it. To give them more dignity, and normalcy. I have to admit, I have even managed to secure some willing Forsaken. But that is only a part of my research. I have some advances in alchemy and in using the races natural defences in ways to make things more palatable. It’s more of a combination of things, rather than a simple cure all.”
He was dancing a thin line here. What he was doing could be considered illegal or immoral by some, in spite of the fact it would provide much relief of stress and depression amongst the Undead.
Looking at Keelath with a reserved expression, he almost dared the elf to deny the need for such research. Malcotin had spoken quietly enough that most of the patrons either did not hear him or ignored it.
|Keelath and Mirium glanced at each other, Keelath seeming to retreat behind a mask of expressionlessness as he thought.|
“Is that all you expect from them?” he asked at length. “Test subjects? I’m not sure if that is charity or not…”
Mirium chews her lip. “What are you close to?” she asks, but it’s so soft a question she might as well only being asking herself.
|There is a slight nod of relief from Malcotin, at least he will not be thrown into jail immediately. He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I could offer some gold, but there again, I would also need a more reliable income as well. Right now, I am selling potions and offering some help training those looking to learn about herbs. I have become somewhat of an expert, since I have many years of knowledge both from my own research and that of my mentor.” he thinks about it carefully as he reviews in his mind what he needs against what these two might accept.|
“I can offer you exclusive access to my expertise as well. As you have already noticed, I can feel and taste and enjoy things you might not. Would you like some relief from your stench? Or possibly the ability to eat and drink nomally and enjoy your wife more fully?” He searches the face of the Sindorei.
“I cannot offer immediate change, it would take weeks or even months of experiments. But I do believe if we are patient, we can overcome some of the easier things to improve. Taste being one of them. You are remarkably free of most rot. I can help you to grow new tissue, discover ways to improve your sense of smell and even start experiencing sensations you have long lost. Eventually, I hope to restore most of the functions of life through chemistry, and yes some magic.”
|“Stench?” Keelath sounds annoyed, but he doesn’t walk away. “It’s not freedom from rot. This flesh I’ve regrown myself, with unholy magic. But the…patterns the old Lich King would have us follow were not exactly concerned with eating or drinking anything other than our foes and their blood.” He bares his teeth again.|
|“I’m not sure about this,” Mirium says softly.|
“If you can give me new patterns…” says Keelath.
“It will make your hungrier,” says Mirium, a little louder.
“And how do you manage regrowth?” Keelath says, a little louder still.
Mirium narrows her eyes, touching Keelath’s arm, but saying nothing else. …nor does Keelath fully ignore her, putting his hand on top of hers, though Mirium still looks concerned–and vaguely annoyed herself, now.