Ishamael was a blooded who wished to be cleansed of the disease within
him and so the Blackhand attempted a cleansing. Sadly he is now forever
gone from the lands, but hopefully he now experiences some peace now
that he has embraced his final rest.

The following is the ritual that took place, the Hand wishes a cure and
we will make further attempts as we discover more in our research of the
disease.

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Pythona reaches out and grasps Ishamael's shoulder. Lowering his head he
speaks in a hushed voice, "Blooded Ishamael Nahir, childe of Lucimal,
father to none. You are here on your own accord in order to cleanse your
body of the diseased blood it carries. You understand that this has not
been done before and that you place your unlife in our hands in hopes of
being cleansed."

Ishamael bows his head slightly, but then raises his eyes to meet
Pythona's, his gaze solemn as he answers, "I wish to be rid of this
curse, even eternal death is worth the chancing if it means I can
atleast regain some shred of humanity."

Pythona walks over to a wooden table and undrapes an array of tools
ranging from small scalpels to handsaws and tubing. He speaks over his
shoulder as he wipes the blade of a metal spike, "You understand that we
must drain you of your blood, rid your body of that which corrupts it.
Hopefully we will not leave you drained for to long and the fresh blood
we place in you will invigorate your organs which you have not used in
some time. Unclothe yourself now"

Ishamael removes his clothing, a slight hesitation as his eyes pass over
the table and it's instruments. Moving to a table he lays upon his back
and allows Searoth to strap his legs and arms down.

Pythona walks to the table with a iron spike in his grasp and some
tubing slung over his shoulder. He runs the tubing through a hole in the
table positioned under the wrists of Ishamael, trailing the coils out,
he lays the other end within a large tub.

Searoth picks up a iron spike and two mallets, handing one off to
Pythona he walks over to the opposite side of the table and positions
his spike over Ishamael's wrists. Raising his mallet in preparation, he
looks to Pythona.

Pythona positions his spike over the other wrist of Ishamael and brings
his mallet over his head and pauses, with a confident tone he speaks,
"Thus begins the cleansing of the first damned being, may Lord Rahn
watch over you these coming hours and you prove strong in his
purification. May the gods watch over what soul you have left within
you."

Pythona nods his head at Searoth in unison they bring the mallets down
upon the spikes. A sickening noise can be heard as the bones are
splintered within Ishamael's wrists, the blood flowing free through the
now gaping holes, making it's way down the tubes and into the tub.

Ishamael blinks away a tear that escaped his eye and grins sheepishly,
"That wasn't so bad, the death of the body upon embracement is far more
painful."

Searoth nods his head in agreement as he takes the spikes and mallets
over to a bucket of water to wash them. He speaks over his shoulder as
he cleans the blood off of the tools, "The purification of your body
will test how strong your pain threshold truly is."

Ishamael shudders as his blood slows within him.

Pythona grabs a stool and sits over the tub of blood as it slowly
trickles to a stop. Bowing his head over the blood, he starts chanting,
his words never touching your ears as he contemplates the essence of the
universe, reigning his limited control of numerology in order to
manipulate the blood. Sweat beads upon his forehead as he clutches his
head in pain, reaching within the blood he makes symbols with his
fingers that glow momentarily then fade from sight as if sucked within
the blood. Stumbling away from his stool he motions to Searoth, "Do what
you can, I have made what attempt I can to displace the curse."

Searoth moves over to the tub and removes his clothing to bare his arms
and chest. Holding his arms forward he closes his eyes and prays, "Lord
Rahn, guide my mind true as the power of Your Pain cleanses this
Darkness from the path of Light." With the last words leaving his lips
he drives his hands into the blood and growls as he puts forth the
powers Lord Rahn has bestowed upon him. His body trembles and his
muscles clench up as his an inner fire pours forth from his soul and
writhes down his arms into the foul liquid within the tub. Pulling his
arms from the tub, Searoth leans against the wall, remnants of blood
evaporating in small hisses off his arms as the fire within him dies
down. "The blood has been purified through the flame of Lord Rahn, may
his body endure the light he is about to embrace."

Pythona takes a bucket in hand and walks to the tub, filling it, he
walks over to Ishamael and sets it upon the table. "The purified blood
will cleanse your body of any curse that may remain within, this is a
test of your true endurance." Nodding his head, he lifts the bucket
again as Searoth opens Ishamael's mouth and holds his jaw open. Pouring
the blood slowly, he allows it to spill into Ishamael's mouth.

Ishamael screams in agony as the first drops of blood touch his tongue,
a think tendril of smoke rises from his gaping mouth as the liquid burns
it's way into his body. His back arches off the table as one the leg
restraints snap as his body convulses in pain. Wisps of smoke pour from
random areas of his flesh as he thrashes, his jaw snapping as Searoth
holds his mouth open, allowing the liquid to still pour within. A long
wail emits from his torso as Searoth and Pythona back away, eyes locked
one his body, flames spring forth from his hands and feet and his body
contorts in unnatural positions as the bones breaks and shatter within
him. With a final scream Ishamael slams his head into the table with a
grotesque crunch as his body fully erupts in flames. The smoke clears
almost instantly and nothing remains of Ishamael.

A piercing scream errupts through the lands as Ishamael's soul is
consumed in flame and perishes, the echoes of his cry lingering in your
ears.

Pythona bows his head in self-disgust and shame, "We have failed and
lost one who wished to experience humanity one last time."

Searoth shrugs slightly, "I's a shame that this vampire had to perish,
but perhaps they can finally rest in the world of eternal sleep."



Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Arios, in the year 132 MA.