RP:I Could Have Saved Them...
This is a Devout's Guild RP.
Synopsis: Zahrani meets with Jaxson and Kadiir at Jaxson's Cigar Lounge to provide healing aid to the survivors of the undead attack on Cenril.
The Alystrian Cigar Lounge and Emporium
Jaxson Ravencroft’s shop, The Alystrian Cigar Lounge, was closed save for important matter of business more than likely no related to tobacco and their products. Today it serves as a makeshift medical unit as the surviving members of his band of brothers try their best to save the lives of those serious wounded in the battle between living and dead that raged upon the shores of Cenril not even two days ago. Veterans of combat that they are, skills of combat triage have been picked up, some of them having even been trained as medics, all of them do what they can be it herbs, bandages, prayers or spells. Kadiir’s managerial skills seem to have carried over, as the large feline seems adept at ensuring the chaos of it all is kept to a minimum, the shop keeper even making sure supplies are regulated as needed, for the supplies have been low due to the plague rampaged through the city. The main bulk has been used in orphanages and establishments that have been used as impromptu medical clinics. But there was booze and smokes, and for vets that’s usually all they’d say they needed. Jaxson isn’t seen on this level, as he has taken himself upstairs in the still under construction lounge above. The man sits there alone, peering out the window that allows him to view the city street below. Shirtless for the moment, the man’s body is heavily wrapped at the sides and left arm. Bandages cover a wound to his collarbone, and dark bruises liter his frame. Yes, the man had fought hard against the legion of undead brought to bare against the living, now he’d have the scars to prove it. But if the pain was an issue, he seemed to not show it, as a bottle of bourbon, nearly empty, rests next to him as he takes a puff of a cigarette while he stares out the window. Images of the battle play through his mind over and over, but it is the presence within him that he focuses on. “What are you…” He whispers to himself before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke, another taste of that whisky following closely after as within his minds he still hears the voice… ‘Soon….. you shall be mine….’
Zahrani practically flies across the rooftops of West Cenril, starting from the Enclave of the Isran Collective and passing over Arril Street. She takes in the miracle before her; living people where there were once shambling corpses. The scent of decay is lessened, though some of it remains from the battle the other night. Legions of salty undead husks crawling out of the ocean, only to have them reclaimed by a great Sea Serpent. The fishing cats had heard stories of various mighty beasts beneath the waves, driven by Selene or by Who-knows-what. Her attention returns to the would-be quarantine, holding back tears upon seeing a once-infected feline child reunite with their parents. She sighs, cyan gaze looking towards the new Cigar Lounge where Kadiir worked. He had sent word to Roahin for assistance with the wounded, and who better to send than their resident paladin of Cyris? To maximize her mobility, she wears a light suit of brown leather armor over her gray acolyte’s robes, allowing her to free-run more quickly and quietly. Rani carries her satchel of notes and restoratives, the panther woman chanting a mantra of creation while she vaults the streets of Cenril. A faint trail of amber light is left in her wake, her Divine healing aura building for the task at hand. With a deft slide down a gutter and a landing onto the streets below, the cat enters the lounge, making a beeline for Kadiir. He directs her to some of the more seriously wounded, and the panther goes to work. She prioritizes the most severe wounds, disinfecting them and using the power granted to her by Cyris to accelerate their safe closure.
Jaxson sees a flicker of amber light shine in the darkness above the buildings, and before long watches as Zahrani makes her way into the lounge. The man is glad to see the relations with the Collective are paying off, making a mental note to see that they are tended too and supported in kind. A talented and powerful healer, Rani’s addition to those helping downstairs brings a measure of comfort to the man’s aching bones. His logic? More whisky. What Zahrani will find when she gets a moment to examine is a gruesome site for sure, as makeshift cots have been set up, allowing for the treatment of wounds still lingering. Infection is a major concern, as the undead carry with the vile bacteria and likewise contaminants. A simple knick from a blade could spell the loss of a limb, or worse given the nature of such necromantic creatures. Kadiir offers as much assistance as he can, though he is often drawn back to keeping order as emotions still run high, many of these men has known one another for decades, the potential loss of more brothers or sisters has them on edge. “Ye see him rip Redwin’s spine out?” Speaks one man, as many likewise stories cross the room. “Beat poor Herod to death with it like a mace afterwards!” Mix in these types of recollections with the agonizing screams of pain and suffering from the injured and dying, and Rani can assess for herself what she can do. Those screams carry up to Jaxson, who has isolated himself for now, a reminder that they followed him into that hell, and their pain and suffering, the deaths of Herod and Redwin and all the others, he places on his soul. Why were they even there? Why did the undead attack so randomly? The city guard dint even have a chance to respond. So many questions flood his mind, but always that voice returns like a hellish fog, blocking out all that noise as the primordial continues her taunting of him. ‘They needn’t have died…. If only… you had said…. Yes….’ He doesn’t know if he is going mad, or suffering some brain injury, or if its his conscious speaking to him, but Jax continues to try to drown it with more whisky only to find his glass empty. He tosses it out of anger, and the shattering echoes even downstairs. Regardless, the man says to hell with a glass, and grabs the bottle itself, raising it to his lips as he stares out that window…
Zahrani’s keen senses, along with her Divine aura, serve her well in assessing the most serious wounds. Some of them were more painful than serious, others vice-versa. The feline focuses on those who are closest to death’s door, coordinating with other care workers. From her satchel, she provides a strong distilled spirit as a disinfectant to a local healer, and after they apply it, she places her hands over the gaping wound in the man’s arm, the will of Cyris encouraging the warrior’s flesh to knit itself back together. When the healing is complete, the paladin unstraps the tourniquet that had been keeping the man alive, and an audible sigh of relief passes from his lips. He had other minor wounds, but they would be treated. The feline moves onto the next person; though the human woman didn’t have any serious wounds, she did have a serious infection that was on the verge of causing her to transition to undeath. Her fever is high, her eyes staring towards the ceiling as her body involuntarily convulses. The paladin produces a tincture, the amber light from her hands pouring into its contents – holy water and root extracts that were derived from feline knowledge of medicine. She places a hand over the woman’s forehead, opening her mouth and placing a few drops of the precious liquid down her throat. A prayer to Cyris is uttered as she works. The woman’s fever eventually breaks, but it would be some time before she could move around on her own. “Staving off an infection like that requires rest and clean water.” she says to the male human attending her. Rani spends the next hour or so doing everything she can to bring these brave souls back from the brink; most of them make it, but there are some who were too broken, in body or spirit. Kadiir checks in on the panther woman, knowing how consumed she becomes by her work. “You might check in on the boss...he’ll live, but...you might want to take a look at him.” The Jaguar man isn’t as magically attuned as the paladin, but he still feels something is off with Jaxson. The cat woman nods, making her way upstairs to the half-finished lounge and peering in on the human noble. The sent of strong drink and stronger magic waft from wounded man. Zahrani takes a breath, before saying, “Can I take a look at your wounds? I’ve helped who I can down there, so I have some time.” The woman’s mid tenor has a concerned tone, her Divine Aura a comforting presence when one gets closer to her.
Jaxson is lost in a swirl of post battle depression and eldritch influence that wasn’t helped by the consumption of a large amount of strong drink. The man is almost radiating a magical energy that reeks of ancient power, to most this will be strange as it not like the paladin’s divine nor the arcane or druidic that most are used to. This feels… primal, archaic and just… old. Even his distance stare seems to glow with an ominous sea green tint, which matches the hue of the cloud of power around him. But as Cyris’ presence blooms into the room by way of his paladin, that darkness seems to retreat for a moment, leaving one to maybe believe it was just a trick of the eye due to the low lighting in the empty room, a trick of the moon maybe, which finally has broken through the dark clouds that have hung over the city for days now. The feline’s words snap Jaxson from the recesses of his heavy thoughts, the nobleman surprising not drunk off his ass even after downing an entire bottle of bourbon. Another curiosity. “Ah…” He says first, the light coming off her causing him to feel blinded for a moment, leaving his features clear to see. He seems paler, gaunt and just absolutely haggard. After a moment more, he says. “They’re suffering because of me…” He runs a hand through his hair slowly, looking up with a mournful expression. “The others died because of me…” He continues, as he attempts to rise but stumbles and falls to one knee, spilling the little left in that bottle of whisky, as he finishes with. “I led them into that… that chaos..” Its been so long since he was on a true battlefield, and the spirits haunting him are not just from that battle, but others he fought while in service to Cenril when he was younger, and far more foolish. “I could… I should have saved them…” Again he hears that voice calling from so far away, only to him… always to him. ‘You could have saved them all…’ In the distant part of the room, cloaked in the shadows cast by the light of the paladin lurks a ghostly figure, ever just out of full eyesight. Her figure isn’t fully there, she seems a trick of the mind if anything. Looming in the darkness, watching the events transpire between holy paladin and her chosen vessel…
Zahrani’s eyes trace about the room, before turning to face the man kneeling before her, struggling to regain his footing. How many times had such a scene unfolded before her? How many Pyrrhic victories with leaders second-guessing themselves? How many good people with crushed spirits? The paladin meets the nobleman where he is, getting down on both her knees so that she is at eye level with him, this intense panther face staring Jaxson down in his grief and conflict. She searches his face, his unkempt hair, his various wounds, the strange primordial sensation emanating from him. The feline shakes her head slowly, before asking, “You and I both grew up in Cenril. No one in this city is a stranger to violence, no matter how we try to shield even our most innocent of cubs from it. As unjust as it is, we are introduced to it at a young age...it shows us power, and it shows us the kind of world we don’t want to live in...” She pauses, “...but something happened last night, Jaxson. You didn’t ~lead~ people into chaos, as you say. The people of this city, people who love you and respect you, decided to band together with you and make a decision.” She tilts her head to the side, as if to make better eye contact with the man, “They decided that they would not let that violence enter their home. They chose that, together and as individuals. Some will regret it, for what it did to them. Others will remember it as a necessary act for their friends and family. You are not solely responsible, Mr. Ravencroft.” Placing a hand on the human’s unwounded shoulder, the feline asks, “What would you have done differently?” She’s more curious than anything. How men can be so sure that the outcome of a battle is in their hands alone is beyond her, but she keeps an open mind for any aces up Jaxson’s sleeve.
Jaxson starts to realize the mess he must seem, but the guilt of the deaths of people he looked at as family still weighs heavily upon him despite the feline’s best attempt to logically explain it all too him. Its something that’s hard to put into words. It has little to do with gender, and more to do with being someone who’s words can sway people to do things, and the results leading to that. It wasn’t war so much as an unprovoked attack, a legion brought forth by Caluss’ power, for what reason the man still does not know. It was an orphan child, one of the many Jax uses as his eyes and ears around town, that brought him the news. Did he go to the city guard? Did he look out to join the forces of Cenril? No. He chose to take matters into his own hands, called up friends and those close by willing to follow him. It wasn’t ego, it was realization that his influence lead people into the meatgrinder. And all the while he is reminded over and over that he hadn’t needed to do that. This dormant power within him has come forth on only a few occasions. First in his battle with the elder dragon Dyraxdiin, giving a mere man the power to stand against the ancient wyrm, whose power had him in the running for Archmage of the entire realm. The second? When Trajek first came to be known to him, and the powerful darkness about the Ghoulish servant of Caluss threatened Valrae’s life (and the rest on that trip to that cursed ship). It had helped save them, fending off the darkness that desired to claim Lanlan’s life. And now, in the throws of battle that power was what ended the threat, even as a horde of undead was bound to crush him. In mere moments he summoned forth a leviathan, opened up the sea floor to swallow back the dead Trajek had stolen from it, and stopped the madman’s plans to drown the city in a tsunami. If he had just said… yes. He looks up to the panther, grateful for her presence and well as her words, but he knows he cannot tell a paladin that he hears a voice in his head asking for control. He knows that sounds mad, but he also knows there is something there he has to deal with. “The enclave..” He asks, his voice cracking a bit from lack of proper use for a few hours. “How are they?” He asks again, guessing it can’t be too bad if she is here. But he needed some good news. “And thank you.. you probably saved a lot of those down there.” Here he’d try to rise, but the pain of his wounds becomes obvious as he faulters, his face contorting if a mask of anguish. “I need a drink…” He says, his eyes already starting to look for another bottle.
Zahrani helps Jaxson to a chair, before giving news about the Enclave, “They’re fine. And our people who were infected are mostly alright now. On my way here. I saw a child...we thought lost to the plague...returning to his parents...” Another moment of holding back tears. Seeing her friends and comrades die was one thing, but the cubs...one never gets used to that. Her gaze shifts to the man’s wounds, before standing the man up in front of her and placing a warm, divinity-infused hand over them. The panther recites an old Cyrian chant, one that involves a dual-toned throat singing in a feline language. The air seems to vibrate with energy as she sings, channeling healing energy to encourage his wounds to heal more quickly. When she finishes, she clears her throat, lets the human noble sit down again, before fetching a canteen from her satchel, “You should drink water, and lots of it. This has a few pinches of salt and sugar in it.” When she uses her Divine healing hands, it draws from the patient’s natural healing ability, accelerating it to save them from death or extreme pain. Side effects include temporary increase in appetite and thirst. “And eat something...you need your strength.”
Jaxson feels a wave of relief to hear the of the Collective not being harmed, as he has grown to enjoy the allegiance they now share. He’d often take a few minutes to kick the ball with the cubs or enjoy bantering with Kadiir. He’d even go out his way during his business trips to and from parts of the city to grab a kabob from a street vendor of theirs, as nothing could compete with the flavors when he had a craving. But it’s the mention of undead coming back to life that grabs his focus, though he’d say nothing. Did his battle with the ghoul break it? No, years of magical studies would disagree. Plus, his magic had been purely offensive, that would take a serious gathering of high-ranking mages, priests and maybe… witches? Valrae shoots into his mind. Did she do something? He hasn’t seen her since the night they shared together. Word was she left the city to handle business in Xalious. If she was planning something, it could explain the random attack upon Cenril. He would investigate that, but before he could think on it further the feline informs him to drink and eat as she places her hands on him to channel that divine healing. His body feels like it works in overdrive, he almost feels torn tissue and muscle fibers repairing, but once more he feels his hunger return with a vengeance. He takes the canteen, drinks it and feels refreshed for the first time since the battle. He nearly down the whole thing, before he’d hand it back, almost embarrassed he chugged like that before the feline. “Ah, thank you.” He says, his strength starting to return, allowing him to stand with Zarani’s aid, as he continues with. “If the dead are returning to life, the city will need us.” A statement and a warning. In the months that this plague has ravaged the city, the sudden return of once lost loved ones will cause a commotion. “I’ll clean up, then maybe head down to see Matriarch Roahin, see if we can figure this out together.” He pauses, looking to the paladin as he says. “The aid of the Collective will not be forgotten.”