RP:Kasyr v Syrri, Aftermath

This is a Healer's Guild RP.

Synopsis: After the Titans of Winter 2020 First Match, the duelists are attended to by Joan and Quintessa.

Lake Frysta

Kasyr feels a momentary slackening of Syrris grip in the aftermath of the headbutt gone awry, but rather then embrace the imminent promise of distance, he reaches out to take hold of her arm- before finally letting out the last of his air in singular 'blub', which translates to "RHEW!" Kasyr, after all, had never relinquished his sword, allowing him in that moment to channel Quintessa's favoured ice spell through his blade, to begin flash freezing the water beneath himself and Syrri with enough violence that it sends the pair of them hurtling towards the surface. Unfortunately for the halfing, whilst the Kensais hold on her means that neither herself nor her axes are liable to be consigned to the frozen depths, she's also able to be used as a battering ram from the ice they come up beneath, which is smashed against their back during their ascent. It's only when they've broken clear of the waters, and the swordsman si finally able to take in a burning breath of air that the rapidly forming pillar of ice begins to lose consistency and veer towards the side- something which sends them both hurling towards the shore- Syrri still being used as an impromptu buffer for impacts when Kasyr uses her to pad their impact with the ground, to boot. That said, he's just going to lie there for a bit in the aftermath, maybe give an awkward thumbs up and spit up the baby Koi he's pretty sure swam into his mouth when he invokved that last spell. "Glub."

Enelys cheered and jeered, hopping like mad, calling for heads to roll and death to he dealt as she celebrated bloody carnage.

Joan made a face after the contestants plunged into the icy depths of the lake, muttering to herself the novice healer would bound off the from the stand making her way to the edge of the lake where Kasyr and Syrri went under. Flipping open her satchel she’d kneel there waiting for the pair to resurface, a flask pulled out, along with two thick woolen blankets, each spelled quickly to dry and warm each drenched combatant when she gets a chance to wrap either in. To be noted, her satchel is magical in nature and can store many useful items in different size and nature without weighting her down. The flask held the highest quality whiskey, one swig enough to make that alcohol warmth spreed down through the old windpipe and bloom across the inner chest with that good liquid burn.

Joan said to you, "Warm spelled blanket and booze?"

Kasyr spits up a bit more water, before going to sit up, looking to be on the verge of responding to Joans offer. Which is about the point that he feels something slosh in his brain, in a more figurative than literal sense. It's a weird, and altogether unpleasant sensation- but one he can't overly afford to acknowledge within the moment, especially not in the face of Joan. Instead, he offers his best fascimile of a smile, and politely accepts, "It's appreciated." Now to go along with the aches of his fresh bruises, and the way the wind gnaws at the exposed flesh on his forehead, he has to mind the aches of his muscles as he suppresses the urge to shiver. He's supposed to be a vampire after all, right?

Joan said to Syrri, "Warm spelled blanket and some booze to warm you up? And do you need a healer’s assistant? I’m with the Healers Guild."

Syrri didn't have much energy leftover, her muscles and bones still stiff and sore from her time underground. Battered and bruised by the time she is washed ashore, she declined whatever healing or amenities Joan offered, and instead quietly, wearily gathered up her axes and stumbled in the vague direction of home, a sopping, half-frozen mess.

Enelys booed a little and threw the rest of her meat into the lake before storming off. What kind of a fight didn't end with dismemberment or disembowlment or decapitation or any of those other fun d words?! What a bogus show. At least sue didn't have to pay for tickets.

Quintessa makes her way over to where Kasyr surfaced, her black and red stripped scarf flicking in the cold air as she steps through the wet snow. A simple nod would be offered to Joan if she even looked her way as the changeling kneels down next to him. "Good fight, Master Kasyr," she says, finally allowing her excitement to show through her smile. "You looked amazing as always." Sure, he was bleeding from his head everywhere, but Quintessa kind of liked it like that anyway.

Joan nodded her head as she moved to unfold and lightly tuck the earned spelled wool blanket about the former king’s wet shoulders, her nose twitches as the rich scent of his blood freely flowing from his ugly head wound. “Ugh...you should be able to heal that close soon, yeah?!” Joan would ask Kasyr, her focus on him, but she noticed ‘Tessa approach out from the corner of her eyes, a curt nod is returned just to be polite, tho Joan was still miffed with the hex blade. If Kasyr couldn’t close the wound by himself under Joan’s watch she’d need to try to close it herself with bandages and some mending healing magic Carzy Maude has been teaching her.

Kasyr has a scarf too, but whilst it normally flaps in the wind all heroically, it's currently just sadly wiggling against his back, glued to him as it is due to the sheer amount of water it absorbed. Though he can feel Quintessa's approach, theres still something weirdly reassuring in the sight of her, which has him offering a lopsided grin, "The best looking fish food this side of frostmaw, enfin." Definitely a little concussed. That said, Joans concern doesn't fall on deaf ears, the Kensais ears perking up slightly in response, though his immediate response is hindered by a hearty drink of the booze, "It'll be fine. J'en ai. Rather- I -am-, et have always been, a Paladin. Even if I'm better at contending with others." Sure, Daedria likes to occasionally teach him lessons, and there's a certain narrative fickleness in the exercise of his abilities. But it's fine. The important thing is that he ought to make like a good little drama-loving disciple of Daedria, and find the exit to stage left, and soon. "Mmm. Though, I could do with a meal, that isn't sea food." He glances back at Quintessa here, before carefully adding, "Any suggestions?" Hint, Hint, Hint, Exit Plan.

Quintessa always had an out. Always. "Yeah, Master Kasyr is a legend- He'll be fine." The changeling reaches over to wrap an arm around the Kensai's shoulders to help him to his feet. "We should head to the Academy of Aramoth. It's not far. They give us food and lodging by virtue of us being in the Warrior's Guild." Quintessa might be a little smug about swiping Joan's healing target away from her. After all Quintessa had some more potions to try out and Kasyr was always a good test subject. "C'mon, I'll lead the way." The hex blade would of course act as his crutch for as long as he needed on the way, but their destination really wasn't that far away at all.

Joan gave Kasyr and his seeping head gash wound a serious look, wondering to herself why the wound was not closing on it’s own by now...surely Kasyr was still one of the undead...and vampires healed rather quickly when the wound wasn’t magically or holy inflected. This made her frown as she took back her flask and gathered up the other spelled woolen blanket the halfling declined. “Alrighty, don’t go to sleep for about a good hour or two after you self heal, but, do check in with a senior healer just in case, head injuries are very serious even for vampires.” Joan cautions before going about mopping up any spilt blood quickly, those wolves looked ready to pounce now that the tournament drew to an end. Any blood she cleaned up with clean bandages and rags, stuffing them abestmindly into her satchel to take back to the sacred shrine for proper disposal.

Kasyr side eyes the cloth as Joan proceeds to rather diligently clean up the mess, though as she moves to put the rags away, he just happens to flick his fingers in their direct, sending a small spark to alight the items there, "Sorry, I've dealt with a few too many cults to let that anywhere. They seem to get their hands on -everything-, enfin. Et I'd not like the idea of what could be done with revenants blood." Kasyr tries his best confidant grin here, and whilst his eyes might be bright- they're also clear cut indicators that he's gotten a good lump in the head. Though, maybe his broke as nose might distract from that. Definitely going to set that asap. "Anyways, thanks again, Madamoiselle Blackheart." Kasyr definitely remembers her name- partly because she's the only person who'd consider opening a taco shop in a murderous forest. In any case, he's been given his cue to depart, he may as well do so now, after scooping up his coat and sword. And he'll even make a decent show about being vigorous enough to lift them up- but man, the moment he's out of sight, he's definitely letting their clunky selves get dragged along.

Joan yelps in surprise as the bandages and rags alite, she drops what she had a grip on in a hot second not wanting to be burnt by whatever bit of magic Kasyr used to lite them, “Erm, Okay. Saves me a trip.” With that the novice healer excuses herself.