RP:How to Kill a Devil
Somewhere in Frostmaw'
She was gone before the dust had cleared. Neither one was about to seriously harm the other so the entire show of 'Who's the Bigger Villain' was lost. She didn't care, in fact she found it all trivial and childish and a waste of time. Okay, so she cared enough to be irritated by the both of them. She wandered West for half the night, regretting not bringing a more suitable wardrobe. She should have learned her lesson by now, those fights with Rohk often lefter her abandoned and treading the distances alone. She lost mindsight of him at least an hour ago, their mental link fading as the distance spread. She would have to take great effort to try and read him from this distance, her gift was not as strong as his since she was not born a telepath. She stops at the stump of a once prospering tree and eyes all the way up to its broken trunk an easy forty feet up. “Must have been glorious” she says to no one but herself and she makes her way in the crevice that split it in twine. She would sleep here, or, at least find rest from the blistering elements.
She watched her footsteps melt away with a fresh layer of snow filling in the tiny indents her footfalls managed to scar the path with. Her eyes fading into a sort of sleep that was more meditation induced than anything. She is jolted awake by the lurking sound of heavy breathing, several sets of lungs passing by her tree in two rows of eight and headed toward Frostmaw tavern. Shift change, most likely. She placed the time within an hour o dawn and realised she had been up a full day now. Still dreading sleep after the last rude awakening meant she was to be awake for some time before she tried again. Next time there may not be someone in house to wake her from certain death. “Get a handle on it.” The Sylvan words escape her mouth in a silvery waft of body heat she was meant to preserve. Gods it was cold; Rohk must have went off looking for her in the East since logically that was where they were headed in the first place.
After the small squad had passed she moves out of the tree and follows their trench toward town, the warm glow urging her heavy feet forward. The sound of a spear screams past her face, nailing it in her path; a shoulders distance to the right would have landed that piece solidly through her. A startled scream gets stuck in her throat and her heart felt like it stopped entirely. She turns briskly to look behind her, a small hand already having found her bow though it was instinctual enough she did not have to remember to arm herself at all. There was nothing but blinding white. Turning back to continue her way, and maybe catch up with that squadron, she takes the first step to give chase... or run away, it didn't matter. She walks face first into the gray-blue bare chest of something that easily towered over her by three feet minimum. She swallows hard, eyes following up the tense and bare muscles of the being that walled of her escape and she takes two timid steps back. She felt suddenly very alone, she felt like she did that day... and her hand comes to her ribs in memory of the pain that once resided there. She stows the bow, offering peace in her best form possible; putting up two open hands to beg forgiveness for her trespassing. It swung an open palm toward her, swatting the peace offering from any thoughts in her mind.
A second swipe comes for her. She ducks it expertly and darts off to the side. With no earth to bend it would be difficult to bind this beast with frail efforts of melee combat. And their touch, Ice Devils had touched her before and while retaining no emotional range for the things she felt her defenses did not work against the bite that penetrated her skin. She would avoid his grasp at all cost, dodging here and there and concentrating hard on keeping him at just the right distance. This one was slow, and fairly stupid, and she hoped it would tire easily. Lucky their skills of violence were best served in large numbers of no brains and all brawn... at least, her last experience implied it to be so.
She had a long day of traveling. Her hops were getting sloppy, enough so when it finaly grabbed its spear from the ground she missed when she tried to jump over it. It was like the snow was weighting her down. She was cursing by now, that sweet mouth with melodic tones mastering the rough words with a hard to place skill. She went to her knees in the snow, laying down and rolling to the side to avoid another strike.
The commotion must have drawn the attention of the aforementioned party. Something had distracted the Devil and she took the opportunity to run opposite his interest. He gave her one last glance as too much effort and turned in the direction of those who now hunted him. It took a good twenty minutes for them to bring him down but she watched from a reasonably safe distance and did her best to just stay the hell out of their way. She winced when the good guys got it, and balled up her fist to mimic their strike to the beast- owning their actions as if she directed them herself. She waited until it was done.
Two warriors of Frostmaw had been cut down, on wearing the giant spear through his shoulder at a depth that looked to have pierced his lung. She came running to the lot of them, arguing against their persuasion to bring both wounded men to the Shaman at Frosties. She argued her opinion, pointing to the still-breating and soon-to-be corpse of the fallen rouge Devil. “Bring the men to the beast.” They did not argue against her, doing as she demanded and carrying both men to the dying creature. “Hurry hurry.” She waits for them to be placed gently and shoos the remainder of the warriors off a good distance. She leans forward to the bruised face of the impaled man. “You're going to be okay, I just need you to remember to breathe. Just...” a pause while she yanks the piece from his arm and covers his mouth to buffer his scream “... breathe.. stay with me.” She removes elbow length gloves and slides one hand up the inside of his shirt. He looks at her like she is crazy and the Captain of the squad holds back another comrade who began to protest.
Frosted mint eyes haze over to a nearly blackened emerald. She braced herself for the bitter cold she would endure and wraps the oppsing digits around the wrist of the fallen Devil. In his weakened state there was little that his touch could do, but it was noticable as her fingers began to turn blue in minutes. A bluish wave began to transfer. From beasty hand and through the Ardent to the wounded solider who arched his back trying to rid his body of the sheer pain he was experiencing with zero filter. Sabrina didn't know how long the Ice Devil would last, and she would steal all his life force if she had to to make it right.
Until then she didn't know a Devil could scream, his veins protruded from every visible place and his body form beginning to match that of the wounded soldier. As tiny fibers of muscular tissue began to bond to its severed mate the wound through the shoulder of the victim began to heal from the inside out. It was likely the blunt of the pain he felt was from the organ healing itself. It would be a pain that led one to fear breathing at all but the screams did require a fair amount of oxygen and so with great pain came an ominous silence. He lay there with his body contorted and his mouth agape in a grotesque picture of brilliant pain.
As his body relaxed his facial features returned to norm and his eyes close at the passing of the whole ordeal. The body of the Devil was spent and it lay there motionless and agonized. Sabrina was quite tired when she assured the men he would be fine with plenty of rest, and to get him to Eleenin shortly. To the other wounded she says with a sly grin “Your turn” and he shook his head 'No' and held out his hands in protest. “Don't touch me!” In time his leg would have healed, and to oblige his request she kept her distance.
“It wont be like that, I promise... yours is not life threatening.” She urged him to take her help. He finally obliged at risk of cowardly ridicule. She approached him softly, her hand wandering down his pants to place directly over the gash that was already oozing alarming amounts of crimson flow. She looks up into his eyes, promising it will only hurt for a moment. Her touch was calming, lulling him into a trance-like state. Her voice would have sounded like melody in his head as she triggered false feelings of joy, trust, euphoria. Her triggers cause his brain to automatically release cortisol, adrenalin, and insane amounts of testosterone for courage. He wouldn't have noticed the same healing sensations the other had experienced for his was not near as fast or emergent. The tissues would match themselves in due time and soon there would not be so much as a scar.
There was no beasty to draw that energy from, not his time. This time she drew it from herself, and for every minute she spent healing him with not alternative source, she grew weaker. Colder. She withdrew her hand from his pantleg, the whole ordeal gaining quite the mockery from his fellow soldiers since he basically stood there with a fair amount of drool coming from his blank expression while this Elfess dove her hand down towards his nethers. It was likely as peculiar as it sounded if he ever went to tell the tale of his recovery.
She backed away from him with a much poorer posture, regloving bloodied hand for good measure. In this weakened state she'd have little restraint if any tried to touch her now. In effect, she would involuntarily drain the next poor soul who tried any amount of contact. All the energy she expended would have to be replaced, it was the laws that governed everything in every circle of life. They offer escort to the nearest occupied area and she waves it off with a nonchalant fling of her hand.
Three soldiers remained from the four that took the majorly wounded to Eleenin. A healed one, the Captain, and some random addition that she vaguely realized was even there. She denied their insisting assistance and turns in an indiscriminate direction that was opposite of where they stood. Three steps off she pauses. Two steps more, again she pauses. A half step further found her face first in the snow.
She would wake some time later in a makeshift bed, Eleenin gawking in her face and mouthing her name but no sound would come until later. As she woke from her fog she takes squinty focus over her surroundings and is met with a cluster of babysitters who were eager to make her acquaintance. There was no way she would remember their names, but Eleenin had given them all sorts of stories about his favorite Larketian healer.