RP:Bad Bites and Bright Lights
Part of the The White Hunt Arc
Summary:
West Hall Frostmaw Fort
Orikahn is laying in a spacious alcove adjoined to the fort. His bed is a large wooden table draped with a tablecloth that was once white but now bears various stains, some of them red, most of them black. A woolen blanket covers his lower half, and much of his chest is wrapped in bandages. A damp cloth lays across his forehead. For now, the cat seems to be dozing.
Alvina leads Linn back into Orikahn’s room and stands back to let him assess the progression so far. Nothing notable has happened, but the bard would say it was notable that Orikahn hadn’t busted out of here by now. She gives the feline a secret smile while Linn regards him. “It might be a blessing in disguise that he’s still out cold.”
Linn took a seat to overlook the dozing hunter while remaining out of the way of the others. That the cat wasn't any worse off was reassuring, but he wasn't any better either. For now the enchanter could only stay hung in suspense at how his condition will evolve. At alvinas jest he cracked a lighthearted smile, "possibly. What happens when he wakes up is going to be an entirely different problem from what's going on right now." He finished with a small chuckle in anticipation of the cat's reaction to having so much care given.
Aira had not seen her hunting companion since they had gone their separate ways after the debacle in the cemetery near the ruins. Normally, she would have run into him by now and she was growing mildly concerned as he hadn't been in the best of health when they departed. She had been sitting idly by the fire in the tavern when she caught whispers of the feline's current whereabouts and it immediately set her in motion, dropping a few coins in the table for her drink that she hadn't even touched. The elf had never been to the fort before but she tracked it's whereabouts easily, navigating within the courtyard and hallway before she had been stopped by a guard. After being pointed in the right direction, Aira entered the west hall and quietly opened the door to the alcove without knocking. She halted at the threshold upon seeing Linn and the bard she had pointed her arrow at...what was her name again? She looked at both curiously before scurrying forward, shutting the door behind her, and moving to the side of the room to peer down at the snoozing hunter. She wrinkled her nose when she saw the various stains on the bed sheet and the bandages wrapped around his middle.
Leone :: News travels fast, particularly in a society where oratory tradition rules, such as Frostmaw. So it was merely a matter of time before the petite smith, her leg still encased in a hardened poultice and supported by dual wooden crutches, stumped her way down the hall and toward the Prime Hunter's room. From still a ways down the hall, the High Priestess witnesses Aira scurry into the room - and close the door. The farrier looses a muttered curse, and continues plodding her way toward the aforementioned door. When at last she has managed to draw up in front of it, the diminutive female pins a crutch between her arm and her ribs before bringing knuckles to bear upon the wooden portal. The knock is sharp and clean, almost authoritive, in its delivery.
Hildegarde had not been told of Orikahn’s injury or move to the fort until only a few moments ago. Mikael had taken it upon himself to see that the Steward not be disturbed and he had been promised an earful about the issue later. For now, however, Hildegarde was up and out of her seat with urgency: storming down the hall towards Orikahn’s place of rest. While Leone knocks, the Silver appears behind her and looks at her leg. Was that from the stampede? Why hadn’t she remembered to check in on the plover? What could have been otherwise so important to keep her away? With an abashed voice, the knight spoke softly to Leone, “Would you like me to assist you in walking?” she did not expect the plover to say yes, however. She knows that Leone is an independent and able woman. For now, she will wait for the door to open but if none should open the door, the knight would make sure she would be permitted entry to a room within her own fort.
Orikahn parts his lips in a feeble gasp, and is his eyelids flutter open. The same hazy, unseeing gaze sweeps across the ceiling, and he stirs. Legs shift beneath the blankets, and he makes an attempt to raise one arm, but the strain is great, and by the time he has it half-lifted from the table, his eyes have rolled up into his head again. It drops back to the table, leaving the hunter panting. He groans and clenches his eyes shut.
Alvina looks up as Aira enters, surprised to see her again but not terribly so. They had met in the tavern a while back, at Orikhan’s hand. The bard stepped forward to say something to her when a knock at the door startles her. “He’s been stable,” she says with a brief smile to the elf as she stands at his bedside. “Hopefully, that is the priestess,” she said to no one in particular, with the intention of opening the door to admit the stranger entrance. The door swings wide and reveals a set of eyes she’d never before seen. “L-lady Leone, I presume?” Then the Stewardess is greeted with a familiar smile, “And of course, the Lady of the Fort herself. Please…” With that, the bard steps back to usher them in. The wounds the priestess in question was suffering…did they have to do with the strange things Linn had mentioned before? Everyone was injured…The feline on the table stirs, as he had been when a bit of strength returned to him. It didn’t unsettle her. The bard tucked herself back into the corner she’d come from, content to stay out of the way during whatever process was about to occur. For Orikahn’s sake.
Linn gave a nod of recognition as Aira entered the room before looking back to continue watching the wounded hunter. The knock at the door caused him to start before Alvina was already moving to open it. Seeing the two figures in the doorway he raised his head for a nod of recognition, motioning back to the feline that lay on his bed as the more important character. Some linen bandages were wrapped around the enchanters own head, stained with a few thin streaks of dried, if still bright scarlet blood. He showed no signs of acknowledging his own wounds right now, his concerned gaze flickering back and forth from Leone and Hildegarde to Orikahn. Every now and then his gaze would fall to the cast on the priestess' leg which caused his eye to twitch in recognition of the events that led to it.
Aira flickered her copper gaze to Alvina when she spoke softly of Kahn being stable. The high elf remained silent and merely hugged her arms across her chest. A small scowl began to form on her lips at the hunter's stirring and subsequent groan but Aira is startled out of her anxiety by a sharp knock at the door. When it is swung open, her metallic gaze shifted to two women whom Aira had not formally met as of yet, but she recognized them from the stampede. Immediately, the runaway drew back from Orikahn's side and into a vacant corner, giving both the priestess and Steward room near the makeshift bed. Only then does the elf turn towards Linn, noting the bandages on his head. A slender finger is lifted and tapped on her own forehead as she fixed him with a quizzical expression, silently asking him what happened.
Leone turns just her head to regard Hilde at her shoulder, a small shake of the same raven-and-silver crown answering the Steward. Of course the Silver was correct, and the plover refused aid, though the dissent is accompanied by a small and brief smile. The kindly gesture fades as soon as the door is opened. The cleric's ebon-trimmed, peridot gaze widens in mild surprise at Alvina's guess of her identity, and a nod of confirmation is shaken out immediately after. "I am Leone," the holy woman assures Alvina just as a wry smile lifts one corner of her lips and she finishes with, "But I am no lady." Given leeway to enter the room, the sacred metallurgist does just that. Like a lopsided pendulum, the farrier swings her way into the room, taking care not to knock into anything, and over to where Orikahn lays. She takes a moment of pause to look around the room, acknowledging Linn and Aira with a short nod of greeting and short assessment. "Unwrap him," the clergywoman says to no one in particular, though obviously in reference to the ailing hunter, "I need to see what we're dealing with here." Turning once more to address Hildegarde, Leone lilts in sighing notes, "I'll need you to hold me upright, Hilde. And help me take off my jacket."
Hildegarde followed in behind Leone, offering Alvina a gentle smile and soft words, “And you know my name is Hildegarde, no need for titles,” she was never fond of being seen solely as her title and status but it was a habit people could rarely shake. “Alvina, perhaps you can play us something soothing to help Kahn here,” music always did soothe a beast. “Linn, I understand you are hurt too but given that you are up and on your feet, I assume you are well enough to assist,” she intends to put him to work in helping remove Orikahn’s bandages enough for Leone to see the wound. Her sole eye now settles upon the silent Aira who had withdrawn to a corner of the room. “I know not your name. But if you are here, you must know someone in this room. Come, help us,” she bade the stranger before gently setting her hands upon Leone’s shoulders to signal she was about to peel the jacket off of her. Whenever Leone was ready, the knight would peel the jacket off and set it down on a nearby chair before stepping close to Leone and allowing the farrier to make herself comfortable with Hilde’s assistance.
Orikahn swings his bloodshot eyes around, looking straight through his companions. Whoever takes the initiative and moves to unwrap the great cat will be greeted with alarmingly weak resistance. The once mighty hunter's touch is easily resisted, and the one pulling the bandages away should have no trouble pushing his objecting paws aside. Beneath the bandages are a variety of fairly ordinary looking scratches, but the concerning wounds are two deep, ulcerated sores, pitted with black, ichor-filled boils. Some of these boils have ruptured, apparently, and the wound weeps black fluid, seeping through the bandages. No doubt, these wounds are responsible for the stains on the tablecloth. Occasional shudders pulse through the struggling cat's body, and bleary, pained indignation shows in his expression, confused and objecting.
Alvina gave Hildegarde a sly smirk as she closed the door, for she had only been teasing when greeting her by her title. The bard felt that someone in the room should have uplifted spirits, why not she?! At the suggestion of playing music, Alvina pulls her silver flute from her satchel and does her best to conjure a soothing lullaby, of sorts, something smooth to settle the worried tempers of those surrounding. While she played, she watched. Saw Linn looking at Leone’s wounds, saw Aira shy away at the entrance of the two women. Conversation was beyond her now.
Linn looked to hildegarde as he was addressed, and got up from his seat with a nod to answer her assumption that he was well enough. Walking over to the hunter he found the edges of the bandages and slipped them out from each other to begin unraveling them. Every now and then he'd hesitate as he came close to touching the black ichor, only to continue a second after. He largely ignored the feline's struggling, hands slowing to stay steady as they pushed the paws back away. "Easy big guy, I didn't drag you back here to get worse." He muttered softly under his breath as he continued his deliberate work.
Aira lifted her gaze when addressed by Hildegarde and quickly tucked her longer, platinum blonde locks behind her tapered ear. "I am Aira," she offered in quiet tones before shouldering off her quiver of arrows and pulling her bow over her head and off her body. Both were discarded in the corner, soon followed by her cloak which was quickly cast aside. Booted footfalls carried her to Orikahn's side once more, joining next to Linn in unraveling the bandages. As Linn worked with the linens, Aira did her best to maneuver Kahn when it was necessary, occasionally whispering words of comfort that they were merely trying to help.
Leone moves gingerly yet fluidly to palm the poles of both crutches in her hands before stacking them together and off to the side. She is less than steady, though manages to mantain her balance, while pushing both shoulders backward to allow Hilde to slip off her jacket. The disrobing serves to reveal a close-fitting black cotton bodice with thin straps, but moreso the smith's mutilated flesh. The entirety of the farrier's back and shoulders are scarred, though not in random. Instead, the modification seems very delibrate - even artistic. An amalgam of shiny, burned swathes, carefully inked tattoos, and meticulously scribed, thin lines of carved scars consume the blacksmith's otherwise ivory skin (if anyone would like full details of Leo's back piece, please send me a tell. It is unimportant to the plot, but important to the character). Already, the inscribed lines leak light, luminence seeping out of the old wounds like white ichor. With Linn and Aira's help, the farrier quickly assess the hunter's condition, poking two probative fingers into the black ooze Linn takes so much care to avoid. "Someone tell me how he got like this," the request is direct, though gentle. She is not an inquisitor.
Hildegarde did not look at nor comment on Leone’s back. It was not the right time nor place and it was something she had seen perhaps once or twice before. Instead, she does as she has been asked to do: she stands in close and settles her hand around Leone’s back and on her hip to steady her and hold her upright. “Aira,” the Steward repeats, committing the name to memory. They would undoubtedly speak later. But for now the woman lapses into silence. It is time for the plover to work.
Orikahn can only resist so much, and the feeble struggles soon subside into inanimate compliance. His limp, fevered body is nearly slack in the hands of those around him. Whether by the virtue of song or the viciousness of fever, Orikahn's form is at last peacefully compliant. The ooze, for those with the means and knowledge to discern such matters, is more troublesome than any natural infection and (as Linn discovered earlier) has at least a bit of the supernatural in it, or perhaps preternatural would be the more apt term. What foul stuff.
Alvina continues to keep her eyes on the events unfolding before her, spinning melodies like transparent spider webs in the hopes of soothing Orikahn and assisting in the proceedings in her own way.
Linn kept working away at the bandages slowly and carefully, Leone’s display of scars and light coming from her back catching his attention for a brief second before he returned to the task at hand. With the bandages fallen away and Leone’s question he spoke up. “I found him like this at his lodge in the woods a few days ago. We went inside where he began to warm himself by his own fire before shivering overtook him. I made preparations to take him back just as he passed out. Now he’s here, hasn’t gotten up since.” A pause as she poked into the ooze. He had his own reasons for being so careful around it, though those reasons likely weren’t applicable to the plover in this situation. “As far as I can tell, the ichor is due to something necromantic.” He looked indecisive about how he wanted to deal with that; it was risky if he tried. Instead he referred to Leone’s judgment on that topic.
Aira gently sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed anxiously as Leone spoke to the room at large, asking what had happened. Her copper gaze flickered to each individual, listening to Linn's account before swallowing hard and speaking in that rough common tongue. "We were out in the wilds near the ruins. I wished to go to the graveyard and Kahn followed. We found ourselves surrounded by..." she paused and moved her metallic eyes to meet Leone's full on. "They were reanimated and attacking us. No matter how many we took down, still more came. We both sustained scratches but Kahn was bit by them." She shook her head then and ran a hand through the sheared away locks above her left ear. "He almost immediately fell ill as we escaped, weak and panting."
Leone tilts forward, resting more of her weight in Hildegarde's care, assured that she can trust the dragon to keep her from further injury. Alvina's calming influence is appreciated, though goes unrecognizes for the moment. Instead, the plover listens first to Linn, and then to Aira, the latter receiving the bulk of the farrier's attention. Aira's stannic stare holds the plover's limpid, gemlike sights for the duration before a reassuring nod is issued toward the unusual elf. "I see," she murmurs softly, the notes of sand upon silk consumed by contemplation, "Diseased, then. Perhaps cursed - and potentially possessed. We will simply have to perform all three simultaneously." Wisps of argent smoke curl off the farrier, her accumulated magic building all the more in preparation, escaping as if steam from a boiling pot. The tendrils of transparent mist coil their way down the farrier's shoulders, winding like vines down her arms. Licks of blue, flamelike energies join with the white at the metallurgist's wrists, infiltrating her palm in a brilliant, blinding pool upon either palm. Without hesitation or warning, the priestess leans forward and presses both palms (and her accrued wellspring of exorcising and blessing) directly to the black-oozing wound on Orikahn's torso.
Hildegarde will undoubtedly do all she can to keep Leone from further injury. Her grip is firm but gentle, she is strong enough to easily keep the woman upright and hopefully comfortable within her grasp. The knight remains quiet though, looking to Linn and Aira as each speak in turn. She doesn’t wish to disturb Leone’s work and concentration, so instead she remains quiet for now. It is not her time to speak nor her place. It is time for the High Priestess to do her work.
Orikahn visibly stiffens as Leone's magic surges through him, fur and whiskers standing straight on end and puffing out. It's impossible to see what goes on, for the light of the priestess' curative energies is blinding, casting stark shadows around the room, brilliantly illuminating the dim corners of the stone alcove. The holy light gives the feline's unconscious body a seraphic sheen, and he turns a bit at the middle, flexing in a simple controlled twist reminiscent of a cloth being wrung out. The black stains spread out over the tablecloth in a big, round blot.
Linn took several steps back the moment the wisps of smoke and mist began leaving the plover in preparation for her healing, putting himself a sizable distance from the events that followed. He would have remained close if he wasn’t for the potential of the energy that he controlled to react with any ambience that the purge would create. In spite of the distance though, he watched with utter fascination of her magic, something about it he found truly beautiful, the way the energy flowed and merged before acting out its purpose. He had to avert his eyes as the lights came to a head as Orikahn was purged of the corruption that ate into his back. Once everything was said and done he approached again slowly, blinking slowly as he attempted to comprehend what exactly had just happened.
Aira grimaced slightly as Leone moved her hands to Orikahn's cursed wounds. Despite the bright lights and wisps of smoke Aira remained stoic, standing at the hunter's side. Aira was not used to magic and what she saw piqued her curiosity but she was a master of wiped her face clean of any emotion. The only thing that seemed to move were those almond shaped eyes of hers, the metallic hues shimmering in casting light.
Leone is warming to the touch, an unfortunate turn of events for the frost dragon who supports her. The aura of light is completely with a halo of heat, an increasing field of warmth that is building in temperature and coverage area. One hand slides from the cat's body, the palm instead pressed against the cloth where the black substance has been expelled from Orikahn. The comingling white and blue energies begin to gather up the curse, twisting and winding it up into a tight ball wholly encompassed within swirls of alabaster and azure. The orb is left to hover beside the priestess, floating just next to her shoulder like an obedient child. The hand not pressed to Kahn moves to the cleric's side, delving into a pocket for a singular moment only to re-emerge with a small silver phial clutched between two digits. A third, charred finger flips open the cap, replacing it with the fleshy pad before upending the vessel to coat her phalange in a pungent, oily substence. The equally spicy and astringent-smelling oil is then used as a medium, and the clergywoman draws runes and symbols upon the feline's forehead and chest, poking through the fur in search of skin below.
Hildegarde remains silent throughout this procedure, only there to support Leone in her efforts of aiding the cat. She will do as bid should and when Leone ask her to do anything.
Orikahn easily unwinds as the last of the oily, corrupted pitch is drawn up and away, and by the time that Leone is anointing him with aromatic oils, the pain and consternation have vanished from his expression; serenity remains instead. Orikahn's light-bathed body looks much more peaceful than it likely ever has, and at last, his eyes begin to truly open, blinking lucidly up at the ceiling to see the dancing lights and shadows above him. Orikahn catches sight of Leone's annointing hand, and he follows it over to find her face, and he must squint immediately there after against the blazing glare of her healing hand. He raises his forearm to try and shield his eyes, and his saberfangs gleam as he wrinkles his maw, ending the brief placidity. "Warm and fuzzy," are the cat's first words, and though he isn't moved to action, not yet, he doesn't exactly sound pleased.
Alvina had been content to continue watching but her breath was starting to fail her. The mixture of slight chaos and concern for Orikahn overwhelms her and she can no longer play. Instead, she eyes the lights, following their path with careful consideration for what is taking place. Not that she knows entirely but…she gets the feeling that everything has gone exactly as it should and this would get the Hunter out of the proverbial woods and back into the physical woods, so to speak. When he speaks, she cries out, forcing her feet to remain planted in the corner lest she run over everyone who truly made a difference this day. This was a good sign!! The bard secretly wondered how long it would take him to push his way out of here.
Linn continued to watch the strange ritualistic magic unfold in front of him with great interest, following the flow of corruption into its prison that hovered by Leone’s shoulder before returning to watch her to draw the runes into the body of the hunter. A great anticipation had begun to take his expression at what the result of her work would be. As the hunter’s eyes opened with the a light of awareness that had been absent for the past few days his anticipation melted into a relieved and grateful smile. It only grew as the feline followed Leone’s hand back to her form, confirming the return of consciousness. In response to the few words given the enchanter spoke up softly with that good-natured grin, “Finally awake, sleepyhead” he jested as he began to look around the room. “Should get him some water. He probably hasn’t drank much if anything while he was out.” He was already moving around looking for some fluids to make sure the cat didn’t pass out again the moment he tried standing up.
Aira was mesmerized by Leone's healing hand and the magic that projected from her touch. The elf's head tilted to the side as the cursed black substance is swallowed by her sphere of light, resting at her shoulder obediently. Copper eyes then linger on those digits dressed in oil as they move over Kahn, unsure of what type of symbols she is drawing but knowing they are doing the trick for suddenly the hunter's jade eyes make a reappearance, filled with clarity instead of that semi conscious presence. When he made to move, Aira took a step back, breathing out a sigh of relief as he spoke coherently, running a hand through her blonde tresses.
Leone pulls the second, healing hand off of Orikahn, her vision blurring as the cat's clears. The farrier is emanating heat like a furnace, great gouts of steam rolling off of the petite frame like hot springs in frigid air. Along her arms, the skin bubbles up in several spots, and angry, red boils stretch the skin into translucent orbs of yellow and white. The energies pouring out of the blacksmith begin to ebb away, retreating and dissapating like sunbeams at dusk. The prietess's hand comes back to Hildegarde's, gripping at the Steward's in an unsteady hurry. "You get some rest or I will skin you alive," the farrier threatens toward the hunter, her face turning in half-profile toward the Silver a moment later. "My room, please. Help me," the bantam woman requests of the knight.
Hildegarde is not particularly comfortable with the heat, but to comment on it would be a poor show. Besides, she is well versed in Leone’s healing methods and thus she knew to expect such heat. The Silver doesn’t complain nor shun the hand that grips her own, instead nodding at the request to help her. “It’d be easier if I could carry you,” she said softly, turning herself and the priestess slowly and carefully before beginning to leave the room. She understands that the rest of the group are more than capable of making sure Kahn is alright after is healing experience. “Can I get you anything?” the knight asks of Leone on the way to her room.
Orikahn doesn't yet grasp his surroundings, and as the earliest vestige of comprehension returns to him, he begins sitting up. It is about this time that Leone pulls her hand away, the divine magic leaves him, and the warm, fuzzy sensation of well-being leaves with it. His head gives a woozy throb, and as quickly as he was up, the big cat is back down again, laying on his back and staring upward again, floored by the sudden throbbing in his head and the dryness in his throat. Someone had mentioned water. Leone had mentioned rest. He swallows thickly and considers both of these while he resumes his attempt to sit up, holding one temple and squinting one eye shut. "Water." The cat agrees. "Bring water." Pulling the hand away from his temple, he pats around himself. "Where are my things?" In particular, he pats at his hip.
Alvina turns to the priestess, who is looking worse for wear than before (which is saying something) and gives her a slight bow as both her and the Stewardess start to leave. “Thank you.” She said, knowing it was probably common for Leone to hear and people to mean when she sacrificed so much to bring him back from the brink. “Hildegarde,” she adds with a smile, giving her a kind of bow, more like an acknowledging nod before she starts to move through the small gathering to bring things to their end. “Orikahn…” the bard calls him name softly, “Please, -please- take it easy.” Her voice is warm and gentle, her movements slow and precise.
Linn was wordless as Leone left, seeing the disease that she had taken on herself. While he said nothing, his eyes conveyed one of the greatest respects that could be given. A single nod was the only gesture that he was able to give as she left with Hildegarde before the hunter’s voice brought him back to the task at hand. “Yes, water.” Another glance around the room found a carafe standing on one of the tables in the corner along with a glass next to it, which the enchanter swiftly and smoothly strode over to in order to pour some out for the hunter as he came back. As he approached he slowed down to look the hunter in the eye as he offered the glass, “Want to try drinking it yourself?” he questioned playfully, knowing Orikahn would likely prefer to do so, though it may be necessary to help him with it.
Aira :: Copper eyes moved from Kahn to Leone once more as she instructed Hildegarde to take her back to her room. It was hard not to notice the red boils that protruded from her skin and Aira ground her teeth, remaining quiet; however, offering a the priestess a respectful bow the head. As the hunter called out for water and Linn sprung into action and Alvina offered her consoling words, the elf slowly moved the the end of the bed, looking around for the items Kahn requested. As she looked she remained silent, not uttering a word to anyone.
Hildegarde received a nod of weary assent from Leone and scooped her up in one fluid motion, before continuing down the hall towards the chambers of the priestess. The Silver had no idea how to make the priestess feel any better beyond offering her some water and ice; making the room cold and so on. So that’s precisely what she set about doing once she had set the woman upon her bed. The Silver would recruit Lisbeth and Bertram into helping make Leone as comfortable as possible before gently excusing herself from Leone’s room to return to Orikahn’s place of rest. She would stand by the door to quietly observe for a moment; let the cat get his bearings.
Orikahn hears his name, and his one open eye snaps sharply over to the source, landing on Alvina with a fierce glare. People are talking, people are leaving. His things are missing. He doesn't know where he is. He can smell charred flesh. For now, he eagerly accepts the water from Linn, not bothering do dignify his playful question with a verbal answer. The sound of him eagerly gulping should be answer enough. Aira looks for his things, and she will find several of his belongings stacked in the corner: his dagger and holster, his quiver, and of course, his garland of sculls. His vest is nowhere to be seen, but Linn or Alvina might recall one of the giants tossing it in with the bandages to be burned, on account of the goo. Having downed the glass eagerly, the cat takes a much needed breath. One by one, he recognizes and counts familiar faces. There is probably no imminent danger, but he may yet have reason to be cross. "How did I get here?" The feline hoarsely demands.
Alvina looks at Orikahn, thinking of feeding back the answer she’d heard from both Linn and Aira when Leone had inquired earlier. “Against your will, it sounds like.” She scolds him, watching him down the water. “You got into some trouble in a graveyard with Aira, and you were attacked by…something undead. Linn says he ran into you and you passed out, on the verge of death, refusing assistance.” She looked around at the remaining members to make sure that sounded right. She personally had been nowhere but at his bed side. “You stubborn cat,” she hissed at him, “Don’t do anything else but rest right now. Please.” Once Linn has given Orikahn some fluids, she gingerly latches her hand in the crook of his elbow and pulls him with her to Aira’s side. The huntress appeared flustered and equally relieved. “Aira,” the bard said with a smile, “Will you stay with him?” Her emerald eyes were bright with hope, but there was no pressure for the huntress to say yes. If she didn’t or couldn’t, the bard would be happy to. The agreement the two women come to will decide if Alvina politely excuses herself (and Linn, who doesn’t seem to have much say in the matter) out into the hall or if she releases his arm and intends to settle in.
Linn looked quite satisfied as Orikahn ripped the glass from his hand and began downing it. Physically, the hunter hadn’t missed a beat now that the plague he was suffering was lifted. He waited to refill the glass one or two more times before giving the water a bit of time to settle. As Alvina mentioned what he did the enchanter spoke up to clarify, “If you remember being about ready to kill me back in your lodge, you passed out and I dragged you back here on one of your hides.” A pause as he gave a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that by the way, I wasn’t going to pull you right through the snow.” If Alvina wanted to pull him out he would accept, knowing someone was at least with the feline while he was out.
Aira nodded as she found Orikahn's possessions tucked away in a far corner before moving over to the side of the bed once more. She inclined her chin in their direction when copper eyes met jade ones so he would know they weren't far. Her silence remained as the feline drank thirstily and Alvina recounted the tale of how he came to be in such a situation. When the bard entwined her arm with the hunter's and asked Aira if she would stay, the runaway grinned before turning her metallic gaze back to Kahn, eyes narrowed slightly. "Of course I'll stay. And, if her tries to leave, I'll shoot him." She was kidding probably...maybe. And as if to prove her point she nodded in the direction of her bow and arrows.
Orikahn drinks each glass that is handed to him, though he doesn't protest when Linn finally keeps the cup. "Might kill you yet," the feline shoots back without skipping a beat. He's kidding probably...maybe. Explanations are flying his direction from every side, and he recalls a great deal, absorbing much of it. "Hmm." The cat growls and lays back on his back. So he had succumbed to the bites. The feline sighs deeply, then starts a little. "But wait," he sits partway up just in time to see Leone walking out, and he catches a glimpse of Hildegarde as well, escorting the priestess from the room. Bah, there would be time later. The cat lays back down again flat and stays there. "Get on with yourselves." It's the best 'thank you' they're all going to get. "I could have been a finished rug by now, you lollygaggers."
Alvina smirked. “I’m liable to finish you myself, if Aira doesn’t call dibs first.” she calls over her shoulder as she takes Linn out in the hall, following on the heels of Leone and Hildegarde. The priestess and the Silver make their way down the hall back to Leone’s quarters and the bard and enchanter stand there a moment longer. Once they are out of the sabertooth’s room, she’ll release his arm and apologize. “Having all of us in there might be a little more attention than Orikahn’s use to or wanting right now. Sorry to just drag you out, you can go back…” Alvina’s grinning at Linn like a crazy person. “That could have gone a lot worse,” she chuckles, breathing her first real sigh of relief since the events had started Orikahn’s arrival.
Linn left the carafe and glass nearby for the cat to be able to reach, “Just don’t go too fast with it” he ordered as he got up to grab his pack before he is dragged out by Alvina. Just as he was about to leave he called back to the hunter in jest “You aren’t as useful as a rug though”. As Alvina apologized for dragging him out he shrugged and gave a quick nod of the head. “He’ll be fine with Aira. I’ll meet back up with him later when he’s somewhere on his own volition” he finshed with a chuckle. Maybe the shift in mood will let Kahn notice the loss of a perfectly good yeti-hide in better spirits. “Could have gone worse in a lot of ways. But we all made it out the best we could it looks like.” The statement was a bit ironic considering the appearance of the bandages around his head, but those were unrelated and honestly looked much worse than they actually were; it was just a bit of torn skin.
Aira narrowed her gaze to near slits as Orikahn spoke of killing her, "Not if I get to you first, you're a lot smaller than a mammoth." She watched Alvina grab Linn and tug him from the room, giving them both a curt nod as they disappeared through the door. Slowly she walked to the far corner where she had disposed of her items, picking up her bow and taking careful consideration in selecting an arrow. Heavy footfalls bring her back to the foot of the bed where she pointed the head of the sharpened arrow towards Kahn. "-You- were supposed to go see a healer," she chastised.
Orikahn grimaces where he lays and points at the door. "The shiny guy, not you," he corrects her, as though it should have been obvious. "Besides, I-" Aira's sharp words cut him off, and he looks up in time to discover himself staring down the shaft of an arrow. His brow furrows, and he picks up the damp rag from the corner of the table and lays it across his eyes. "I got sidetracked," Kahn lamely excuses himself. "Besides, I was feeling a lot better. If that spellblade hadn't pulled me away from the fireside and drug me through all that snow," the cat insists, "I'd have been better days ago." Aira will have to decide for herself whether that's a boast, a joke, or lingering delirium.
Alvina touched the bandages on Linn’s head. “Where are you going now? You should probably get some rest. We can switch out with Aira in a bit. I can take first watch.” Her emerald optics studies his bandages. “Let me try to heal them a little more. Please. I feel like I owe you so much. At least, put that stuff I gave you on it. It really will help.” For someone she’d randomly met in Frostmaw, Linn was turning into a permanent character in her friendship circle. The thought made her smile. “Orikahn will be fine, and out murdering again in no time. We should think of something to do for Lady Leone. I haven’t seen skills like that in many years. It’s terrible, taking someone else’s burden like that.”
Linn winced a little bit at the touch, while the wounds had greatly healed from his rest under the Xalious tree they still burned under shifts in pressure. “Probably the tavern again when its time for me to go sleep." At her offer to heal his wounds again he smiled sheepishly, knowing what had happened last time it almost felt as if he was taking advantage of her. He undid the bandages around his head, the welt that was there before was entirely gone, instead now three separate jagged marks ran down his forehead, each one looking as if the skin was peeled and ripped off and put back in place. The borders that defined them were scabbed with the same bright scarlet that hadn’t dulled for some reason. Pulling one of the plates off of his arm he checked his own appearance, wincing a bit at how it looked, though at least the skin wasn’t entirely lost, that would help with the scarring greatly. As the bard mentioned Leone he nodded slowly, “We should, that kind of healing is one that very few have the heart to endure. She deserves something at least to help with what she has to endure.”