RP:TOW round 8 Aftermath

This is a Healer's Guild RP.

Synopsis After this ToW duel Joan takes cat-shaped Khitti and the bard Alex into the healer's tent to conduct healing on them both. This time Rhaevyn, a senior healer and Carnomancer is there to help out.

Frozen Pathway

Joan scooped up the cat-shaped Khitti with some care, the vampiric healer did not want to jostle her cat-shaped guild leader. With quiet care, Joan whispered into the nearest furry ear, "Don't be alarmed Mistress Khitti, it is just me Joan. I am going to take you and Alex into the tent and work on you both the best I can." Shifting the cat-shaped woman into her right arm Joan would then make her way over to Alex. For the bard Joan would offer a lopsided smile as she held out her other arm to offer to hold about part of Alex's broad shoulders in an effort to help heard and guide him towards the tent as well. "Geez whiz there Alex you did a number on that arm I just recently healed...this time I am pretty sure I can heal this missing chunk of flesh; the skinned arm might be a bit more complicated for me, hopefully, I can do a decent bang-up job, yeah?" She said in a quiet calm clear tone of voice. She'd ushered the two into the depths of the healer's tent knowing there would be a flurry of action starting as soon as they all three entered.

A flurry there is, but not a chaotic one, as a solemn woman directs the mayhem. Various sick and injured lie abed, treated by healers and apprentice carnomancers. The healers use their magic to direct the bodies' healing, and the carnomancers replace and bind dead flesh and organs. Both methods of recovery have their difficulties. The woman, a dryad by the name of Rhaevyn, looks up as Joan enters the tent, nodding at the face of a known healer carrying wounded. "There's a couple of spare cots over there," she says with a sharp gesture. She spares the group barely a glance.

Khitti’s currently unconscious cat-body was snatched up by Joan and hauled off to the healer’s tent. Were she conscious, she would not allow this. Mainly because there’s very few healers she does trust (sorry Joan lol). All that jostling around stirred the cat a wee bit and the feline opened her eyes to find herself being carried by Joan. It took a moment for her to realize what was going on, and then she started to struggle a bit in Joan’s arms. You know how cats get. All squirmy-wormy. Khitti found that she couldn’t really struggle much, so she just gave one of those cat-huff-sighs and let whatever was going to happen, happen. Besides, she was definitely in a good amount of pain and her magic rather depleted. Khitti was missing some chunks like Alex was (her neck had been bitten into and her stomach as well), but it was not quite as deep as the zombies had to go through her fur as well (thick winter coats for the win). Still, though, it had been enough to knock her out after saving Alex. There should be someone from the Necromancer’s Guild around here that can deal with their diseased bodies… She had specifically made sure that someone was supposed to be here for matches that the guild was supposed to provide for if the right environmental were chosen. It’s then that the cat spots Rhaevyn. Was she the one that Khitti assigned to be here? And then the dryad just… ignored her dying guild leader? Ah, right. The cat form. Ugh. Khitti let out a commanding ‘mrrrrowwr!’ in Rhaevyn’s direction, trying to get her attention. Help cat, plz.

Alex was useless as Joan approached and took him into her guiding arms, the man’s eyes glazed over with thick moisture as he trembled, and his teeth chattered – bits of bile and zombie juice still seeping out from between his lips. The man was in utter shock and despite being freshly revived, felt incredibly dead. Still, even in his oddly conscious yet comatose state, the bard was easily manipulated into entering the tent and would follow any orders that were given his way as his ‘better’ hand scratched at the massive wound on his arm to try and stop the curious itch of fresh infestation that was setting in.

Joan sits down the cat-shaped Khitti on the first empty cot, as loyalty to her guild leader comes first Joan would call out to Rhaevyn, "Hey this is Khitti, she needs emergency treatment like now." As the cat Khitti had made her preference for the elder healer Rhaevyn clear Joan would then shift her attention to the other patient. She didn't feel bothered that her guild leader wanted Rhaevyn instead, the dryad was one of her direct overhead teachers and elder in both the healers and necromancers guild. It helped free her up to focus solely on the bard as he was rather close to bleeding out once more. Joan trusted the elder carnomancer to help Khitti.

She would then help steer Alex to the next empty cot. Joan called out orders to the nearest couple of novice healers on everything she required. Her free hand comes up to lightly bat Alex's hand away from his wound as she begins to settle into stopping the bleeding right away. She applies direct pressure to the bite wound with clean gauze she is handed by the first helpful novice. Joan would then slip a tourniquet up onto Alex's arm, pulling it closed into place well above the wound she would then ask for a strong dose of painkiller. As she is handed an uncorked vail of milk of the poppy, this she tips up to the bard's parted lips, saying lightly to the shocked Alex, "Here drink this all down for me Alex. It will help." She would hold out her other hand for the large bottle of antiseptic she had requested, this she would need to literally pour all over and into the bite wound and all down the defleshed lower half of the bard's hand.

Rhaevyn sighs in exasperation. These meat-people always rushing things. "Yes, of course. Helping the Guild Leader. At once." Despite the words, the tone shows no signs of hurry. "Prepare the isometric solution, a fresh levator, and a sternocleidomastoid just to be sure." The dryad carnomancer eyes the belly wound for a scant moment before adding a single word, "Pyramidalis." The assistant, well-used to the ways of his dryad superior, returned much quicker than one might anticipate. The muscles in question lie on the plate, and the faint quivering and steam rising off one indicates it may be a bit fresher than technically legal. Then again, Joan had indicated it was an emergency, and street urchins go missing all the time. After a thorough but speedy sanitization, Rhaevyn carefully cuts at the ragged edges of Khitti's wounds and begins stitching together muscle and flesh with fine threads. Occasionally, she adds a controlled couple of drops from a runed jar of 'solution'. The flesh drinks up the liquid and pulses with new life. Only after glancing over at the other patient, Alex, did she remember that she hadn't administered pain-blockers. Oh well.

Khitti does not recall Rhaevyn being quite so… nonchalant about seemingly everything, but still she was grateful for the help of the dryad, nevertheless. She’d never had the assistance of a carnomancer to personally heal her and she’s suddenly wondering if mayhaps she should be concerned as to the dryad’s methods. That concern, of course, got stronger as Rhaevyn worked, after she’d forgotten the anesthetic. Or any sort of pain medication at all. Khitti let out a hiss and swatted a clawed paw at the carnomancer as if to ask, ‘What the hell is wrong with you today?’. Feeling a little lightheaded from the pain, Khitti made a mental note to not allow carnomancers to work on her, ever again. Not even if she were dying. Not even if she needed some sort of organ transplant. Just not ever.

Alex did not look at Joan as she swatted his hand away from the open wound, instead focusing on her hand with an odd mix of hunger and fear. The shock was still fresh and despite his resuscitation by the guild master, he still appeared quite zombie-like in his absent-minded state. It’s only when the vial is pressed against his lips and tilted up that his eyes flicker towards the healer. If he recognized her, it didn’t reflect, instead, the milk of poppy partially slides down his throat and partially slides down the sides of his mouth and spilled out onto his shoulders and torso. If the application of the medication to his open sores caused pain, it didn’t seem to register to the man either. Though as he stares at Joan, he does manage to raise his good hand and try to tap her eyeball with an extended finger, so some motor function seems to be registering for whatever that’s worth.

"What is with you and never drinking down potions, are you like five?" Joan would ask in a tone of disbelief while she smartly smacked at Alex's good hand, she was never one to stand for her patients trying to poke and prod at her while she was healing. The milk of poppy that spilled down the mouth of the shocked bard in a messy manner was quickly cleaned up and wiped away, it wouldn't negatively affect anything it would just help add to the numbing effects she had already applied. With a tired sigh Joan would lightly snap her fingers before the bard's face and eyes to get his attention, she added a couple of quick little slaps to his cheek, just enough to try to bring him back to himself. "I can't be having you trying to munch on me or anyone else here in the tent Alex, I can and will hold you down in place, heck I'll even sit on you to pin ya if I gotta. Which route do you wanna go here fellow?" She asked of him.

In the meantime, Joan would cast worried glances over towards Rhaevyn as she worked on Khitti in such a heartless manner. "Uh, Rhaeyvn do you wanna switch? I think Alex is ready for treatment. I can finish up on Khitti." She called to the dryad, her eyebrows knit downwards as she tried to figure out what was bothering Rhaeyvn, she was supposed to be friends with Khitti as far as the vampiric healer knew. Head scratcher for sure. Joan would try to give the cat-shaped Khitti a thumbs-up sign as she mouthed, 'Sorry, I don't know what is up with Rhaeyvn." She did still keep an eye on Alex so she would quickly react with her supernatural skills and speed should it be needed.

There's nothing up with Rhaevyn, other than the obvious. A huge surge in injuries that require her personal attention, and not enough funding or supplies. Exhaustion had long since set in. It took longer than it would have for most, but no one is immune from burnout. At hearing Joan's suggestion the dryad nods, "Yes, a switch. I seem to be losing my touch. Too little competent help, not enough sleep." The dryad stares at the half-dead bard and puffs a fine mist into his mouth and wounds. The scent of lavender, bergamot, and lemon wafts through the air, but underneath there's a slightly peculiar smell that might seem cruel, but it is the most effective natural remedy for stopping the rot and reversing damage from decay. "You will be fine, child. Sit down, before I strap you down." If Alex could feel anything the spray would be excruciating, for about two seconds, afterwards he wouldn't be able to feel anything. The dryad had used a fast and messy technique for forcing the pain chemicals out of the body, which also removed most sensation. "Let's see here," she says, forcing the man's arms into the position she wants him. Every time she finds a patch she doesn't like; she sprays more numbing disinfectant. "Rough day for you, too, I see."

Khitti probably would have thought better about Rhaevyn and the situation at hand if she was not only previously grievously wounded but also a cat. That sort of thing tends to mess with your mind a bit. That said, she does give a meow to Joan, seemingly in agreeance with her assessment that Alex was like a toddler that doesn’t know how to use potions. She can’t, however, explain to Joan that Alex knew little to nothing about potions and healing and the like, as she had only just recently found out as well, a week or so before the match. Alas, her thoughts were cut short as Rhaevyn moved on to Alex, and the cat sat up as best as she could to watch her guildmates work on her former best friend. Her tail, seemingly with a mind of its own, swished back and forth erratically, the creature clearly anxious. The scents of herbs wafted from his cot to hers, the feline taking in the smells, quietly naming each one to herself as she also told herself that he would be fine. Hopefully. After all this was over, Khitti would make sure to press Rhaevyn to take a vacation. She deserved it, after all.

Alex hardly reacts to Joan’s scolding though the slaps across the face do cause his eyes to lock with her own with a tiny hint of fear in them but he’s still non-reactive beyond that. Before long, there’s a Dryad before him, injecting every opening from his torso up with a fine mist that contained a brief hint of his favorite scent mixed among others – lavender. This seems to bring him back to the land of the living just in time for him to fail at suppressing a guttural whine at the pain that floods his nerves for the next second or two. Once the effects of the numbing came into place, he finds himself slowly starting to take in the scene around him. He spots the purple haired woman off to the side and then looks back to the Dryad as she yanks his arm into an acceptable position causing him to tense and shutter before realizing that an entire chunk of his arm was missing. He can’t stop the bile that quickly rises from his throat and spews out onto his lap and the floor, though he does try to divert his aim from the healer before him. He mutters a one-word apology that comes out with a gag as he tries to wipe the vomit away with his good hand, he tries his best not to observe the wound again and instead looks desperately around the room for anything else to truly focus on. He spots Khitti and suddenly feels intense shame at his current state with the blood, vomit, and tears staining his face – he quickly looks away to try and hide himself and addresses Rhaevyn with an embarrassed tone that matches the guilt he feels. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” This duel had easily been the most traumatic for the bard and it was destined to set his fear of the reanimated at the top of his phobias. He tries to wipe his mouth clean again but upon realizing the level of the mess he’s made; he simply drops his head and his shoulders slump in defeat. He would follow the healers' instructions as best he could from this point forward.

Joan would give the cat-shaped Khitti a good long once-over look to study and admire Rhaevyn's work before calling it all good to her guild leader. "If you need some milk of the poppy or a more milder pain relief I can get it for you. Other than that if you are feeling up to Miss Khitti you can excuse yourself and leave or stick around and offer us some assistance with Alex over there." She sticks her thumb back over her vested shoulder towards Alex and the dryad about to work on him. Other than that she would instruct the novices around her to clean up the area around Khitti's cot.

Rhaevyn gives her medicine a few minutes to fully take effect then begins quickly, efficiently, and unapologetically begins cutting away rot, only to sew on healthy flesh aided by a sudden surge of magic. Sometimes the surge is healing, others it's a carnological to remind dead flesh what life is. By alternating in such a way, the living and dead flesh begin to fuse into a functional whole. Every time Alex makes a sound, any sound, the dryad doses him with milk of the poppy. Everyone wants her to work painlessly, and she just wants a patient who won't struggle. The solution is more poppy. She finishes her work and administers the 'blue drink' to the extremely pacified Alex. The taste is great, and it's good for you. It'll purge any impurities from his system over the course of a few hours. It's not magickal, but it is very powerful. The strongest laxative the druids of Gualon could make. That's the best way to treat overdose. Flush the system. Rhaevyn begins washing her hands before moving on.

With Khitti’s wounds tended to, she felt awkward just sitting there on the cot that she’d been given. So, as Rhaevyn and Joan worked away, she hopped off said cot and wandered over to where they were working on Alex still. It was -her- fault he got into this mess. She just -had- to offer up Necromancer’s Guild magic to help the tournament and show that the guild wasn’t a threat to Frostmaw, despite the general dislike of dark magic in the region. Khitti did her best to keep out of their way as her tiny paws weaved in and around their feet, leading her to underneath Alex’s cot. And there she’d sit for a while until they were done, and to make sure he was at least out of the woods entirely before she’d head back to the mansion to the west.

Alex was miserable and humiliated. The human’s ability to focus was always far less than his peers but it seemed now that he struggled to keep his attention on anyone thing for longer than a single second, maybe two. Oceanic blue eyes darted wildly around the tent as he tried to find something… anything… to latch onto to keep himself from witnessing the helpful atrocities taking place on his appendage. He gladly accepted whatever ‘juice’ was sent his way from the good doctor Dryad not to just dull his pain but to keep himself from screaming and blowing the tent away with it. His canines bit sharply into the insides of his lip to try and stifle any sounds but his discomfort despite all of the painkillers was apparent – the physical pain may have been nulled from the various applications of remedies, but the mental pain was torture. It was quite interesting how queasy his own flesh and bone made him yet he’d seen far worse done to others. Still, the thought of eating flesh and picking skin from his teeth kept making him retch in reflex and the repeated embarrassment made him feel absolutely worthless. Usually a fan of the spotlight, Alex now wanted nothing more than to disappear. Thankfully, in the midst of the chaos, something does manage to catch the bard's attention, a bushy tail flicking back and forth beneath his feet. He ponders the origin for a moment and then remembers his opponent… his friend… and it’s enough to keep him spiraling, for at least a few more seconds. He seems to continue struggling with zoning out but thankfully things seem to be coming to a close and the next thing Alex knows he’s downing a concoction that is certain to move his insides out in no time and is being directed towards the exit. There are no words of encouragement or reassurance, but instead a series of cold points and nudges to get him on his way which only adds to the burning red hue on his cheeks… then again, at least they were red again! As he makes his exit, he notices the feline trotting alongside him to help escort him safely and he becomes aware of his appearance all over again as he continues wiping away vomit and blood onto his arms before scooping up handfuls of snow and using it to clean himself off. His lips part to offer a trio of short apologies for the mess he’s made of himself, but he realizes that’d likely not doing his dignity any favors and quickly presses his lips back together, looks to the cat, and simply laughs. This was a day of defeat he was sure to never forget. He continues his way with his clawed bodyguard by his side and his head straight ahead, not hanging. Alex was going to be ok.