RP:Rescue Rangers

Part of the Thy Kingdom Come Arc

Summary:Hildegarde and Josleen rush to save Kelovath and Laezila once the news of their defeat had reached the camp. The dragon and the bard find the two battered and broken and whisk them off to safety for much needed healing.

Prisoner Cages

If there was anything that would be able to shake the fledgling free of that consuming bloodlust that temporarily engulfed and drowned her mind, it would be the frustrated shaking of her body in horrid jerks back and forth from the psychopath giant she fought. Her head was whipped back and forth and her limbs flailed haphazardly as she was lifted, not quite understanding where she was, or what was going on. Then, all at once, she felt weightless, falling -not as if she were, but in fact, she literally was falling -thrown over the edge of the cliff. Wide eyes wildly flung upward, and her good arm reached in vain, before a sickening 'crunch' ripped through the area with a volume that was like a thunderclap as bones were pulverized when her body hit the side of the cliff on its way down. That petite form became more like a rag doll as it disgustingly struck the cliffside twice more on its plummet, limbs and frame limp. Snow was flung up into the air in a cloud when she finally struck the ground, her body mangled -bones stuck out of her flesh, her armor was bent and torn, now little more than uncomfortably-positioned and prodding tatters. She didn't breath, though vampires needn't do so anyway. Laezila's eyes were open -her body hurt like a hell she couldn't even fathom to the point where she could not move -couldn't speak, couldn't think. She just lied there, in silent agony, as prisoners within their cages kept falling and crashing around her. A passing memory of Eleenin in one of those cages flashed through the head of the ex-matron -was she dead? The girl failed.

Kelovath landed on the ground with a ‘thump’ after his blade torn into Odrøre’s arm. The breath knocked from his lungs. He was spent. And close to the edge of the cliff now. He did his best to stand, but had trouble finding his breath and balance, using his sword now as a brace against the cold ground. A moment or two passed and in a shocking twist, his eyes found Laezila, flying over him and off the edge of the cliff. “No!” He quickly yelled, but was unable to do anything. Before he could react, the prisoner cages were now sliding dangerously close to him, the man having to dive out of the way of one. Unfortunately, his attempt to escape cage redirected him into yet another cage, which slammed into his entire armored left side. He spun, losing grip of his sword in the process. He fell to a knee, lowered his head, and was this time fully caught head on by one of the last few cages. The one that had the giant healer trapped inside. The same one he had spoken too before the battle started. His head slammed into a metal pole, sending stars into his eyes and a mountain of pain throughout. He was falling now, but to him, it didn’t feel like falling. It was almost peaceful, the feeling of weightlessness. Mind blank, excluding the growing pain. His eyes were closed, body limb. On the way down, the cage that pushed him over the edge began to spin, rather slowly, and the giant inside of it attempted to reach out and push the limp body of Kelovath from under the square-ish prison. For the most part, it worked, but because of this attempt, the armored paladin was sent toward the cliff itself, slamming his back into a part of it that happened to be close to where Laezila hit on her way down. His armor concaved inward when connecting with the mountain, piercing his back, but at the same time, slowing down his fall significantly. Kelovath is twisting somewhat now on his way down and when he finally lands, it is chest first, his body flailing when landing, armor digging even deeper into his body. The very thing meant to protect, has caused the most damage. An attempt to look around was made, but the blood, now dried, from the wound on his head prevented that. His head moved around, trying to push away the snow that sought to bury his face. “I’m…s-so…” The words wouldn’t form, his head reeling from pain, as was his back. His legs though…Nothing.

Hildegarde had already departed from the warcamp with Josleen when she had received word from her eyes in the sky that the battle was not going in the favour of Kelovath and Laezila. Without wasting the time, the woman had assumed her most natural of forms and urged Josleen onto her back before taking to the skies. Kenway had retreated away from the scene before defeat was certain, not wishing to attract the ire of the giants who were already beginning to look his way. He needed to be watching the movements of others, after all. Hildegarde has, however, flown onto the scene just as Kelovath begins to tumble down. She stops briefly next to Laezila, urging Josleen to disembark from her back. "Tend to Laezila! I'll get Kelovath," she tells her friend, her words coming across like snarls but that was simply the nature of the dragon voice. It was brutish. Josleen would know that Hildegarde meant well. She knew it might not be safe, after all, to go looking for where Kelovath had fallen. The dragon lumbered through the trees and the snow, though many trees had been damaged by cages that had been pushed over the cliff-edge as Kelovath and Laezila had done. It's only the shuddering breath of an injured man that alerts Hildegarde to Kelovath's presence. She lumbers towards him, craning her long neck forward to puff at the snow and cause a great deal of it to scatter away from his face. "Kelovath," her voice rumbles, though if Josleen had been there she would recognise that rumble to be a sort of gentle and concerned rumble. As gentle and concerned as rumbles can be. She is ready to reach for him when she is suddenly disturbed by the creaking of wood above her head. The dragon peers up and recognises the inhabitant within the cage. It's Eleenin. He's bloody and bruised. The tumbling of his cage has caused him to land in quite a terrible manner. A cage had come tumbling after his and has crashed atop his own, the dead bodies within it meaning that his own will soon fall from the branches of the tree and crush the still and unmoving Kelovath. "Silver," he says in a raspy voice as his fingers extend as if to touch the bars of his cage, only to fall short and go limp. "Eleenin," she says in a deep yet hushed voice. A thick branch had broken awkwardly with the fall. Eleenin was impaled upon the branch. "I'll free you," she promises, her foreleg reaching up as if to try and manage him off the branch. "Do not," he bids her sharply. "If you move me, the lad will die. He will be crushed by the cage that falls once you free me," he explains to the Silver dragon. She now must choose between a trusted and old friend or the paladin who held the heart of her dearest friend.

When Hildegarde came for Josleen bearing bad news, the bard's heart lept then raced anxiously. She dove quickly into the healer's tent to grab a ready-made satchel full of medical supplies for field use. During the quick flight, her imagination ran wild with worst case scenarios. Tears flowed freely from her cheeks, and she swiped at them incessantly, though she didn't audibly weep or sob. It's the stoic tears that spill when we imagine the worst, but have not yet experienced it. As they near the cliff, she cranes her neck this way and that to find that golden armor, but no luck. They find Laezila first, and the girl's mangled body churns the bard's stomach expresion into one of horror. She nods to Hildegarde's; her trust that Hildegarde will find Kelovath is total. Laezila needs urgent care. Although Josleen's greatest desire is to find Kelovath, she cannot turn her back on Laezila despite their history--a feeling which is as surprising to Josleen as it would be to those who know of her hatred for the vampire. "Oh gods," she gasps as she slowly kneels in the snow beside the broken drow. The severity and quantity of the injuries overwhelm the healer. Where to start? Vampires regenerate on their own, and Josleen has little experience in helping their natural gifts accelerate. She pulls a vial of milky white liquid from her satchel, lifts Laezila's head onto her lap, and gently tips the powerful pain reliever past the vampire's bloodied lips in an act of mercy. Pain should ebb quickly, and Laezila's head may feel like it's swollen and floating like a balloon. Despite the healer's hatred of the drow, she doesn't relish Laezila's sorry state. The ex-matron has become a fixture in Josleen's wartime community, and although she may not like the drow, the drow is still a part of her wider, more general tribe. She also discovers, as she bandages the larger gashes and cuts, that she has truly forgiven Laezila for past crimes. Like her? No. But forgiven, yes. This punishment does not feel just. Laezila has paid her dues. And so long as the girl is so broken, Josleen can't even summon the anger she felt when she discovered Laezila dragged Kelovath into Frostmaw in the first place. That anger can come later (it will), when Laezila is strong enough to resume her role as Josleen's enemy. For now, a greater enemy has inspired Josleen to issue a cease fire in her endless battle of wills against Laezila. As she bandages wounds, she looks above the pine wood's canopy to see where the silver dragon roams. The dragon's deep rumble carries far and she hears Kelovath's name. Josleen gasps, "Kelovath" to herself and watches attentively, mouth agape, for more news. She cannot see him through the pines, nor can she see Eleenin through the glut of needles. When Hildegarde turns away from the ground and looks into a pine's upper branches, from where Josleen kneels, it looks like Hildegarde is looking up and away from a terrible, regrettable sight. "Kelo!!" Josleen shouts, her voice quavering with premature grief. She sets Laezila's head down gently and takes a few staggering steps towards the dragon. She'll go as far as she can without losing sight of Laezila, for her instinct is to not abandon her charge. Still, Kelovath is hidden from her. "Hilde! Have you found Kelo?" Josleen's voice amplifies through use of her bardic gifts. It's anxious, tense, on the verge of crying. Hands swipe at her cheeks to flick away twin rivers of tears. She takes a few more steps forward but resists the impulse to run to the man who has captured her heart, in part becaue of Laezila, but perhaps more honestly, it is because she is terrified of what she will find if she reaches him. Would she find the worst case scenario confirmed? "Hilde!" She cries pitifully.

Laezila couldn't move. It wasn't out of some paralysis, tendon severing or nerve damage; she couldn't move because her suffering was too great. She had bones literally protruding from her body along her leg, where her shin was brutally snapped in two, and a rib that jutted out from her front. It was a fortune that she needn't breath, as surely the gentle ascent and fall of her chest would cause even further torture by the muscle and sinew sliding up and down along the length of that bone. Her mind was half-delirious but otherwise drown in the sort of pain that might send the weaker-willed into a calamitous insanity -her silence belied peacefulness. In fact, the entire gaze of the ex-matron was blurry, some vague flashes of sights that struck her in still frames rather than linear, perpetual motion of the natural world around her; a dragon, then empty skies, words that were muffled and faraway, then, all at once, Josleen's face. The gentle manipulation of her head into the lap of the healer was nothing -likely not even registered in her tormented mind just like that the other creature seen briefly was, firstly, a dragon, and secondly (most importantly), Hildegarde the Silver. Instead, vivid blue eyes hopelessly searched the healer's face above her as her grayed lips were coated with a stark contrast of dark crimson. There were no tears that interrupted her gaze, but not for a lack of remorse or sorrow -both were more apparent than day on her scarred face, which was deeply purpled along one side in the remnant bruise forming from a giant's backhand. Her lips moved, but no words came out -they only managed to breach her mouth when Josleen was moving away. A rasp, but barely audible, "Eleenin... all fell -I couldn't -fault..." She thought the healer was dead -thought Kelovath was dead. Surely a divine curse was the reason she'd be alive, too, to suffer from her failure. The drow just wanted to help! Just wanted to save -somebody-! Maybe she could only kill.

Kelovath had little understanding of the situation he was in. He knew the battle was over. His desperate attempt to free the prisoners was met with failure. And the death of most of those he sought to release. Laezila came to his mind and he mourned her death. But, he had survived. Maybe she...No. She was dead. He failed. Her life and those pushed from the cliff would all be placed on his conscience. It's his fault. He failed. Voices could be hear after that strange breeze. Snow flowing away from his body and something new nearby. He thought maybe his name was spoken earlier, but couldn't be sure. The conversation continued and he tried to listen, tried to move. Neither happened. His head pulsed painfully, his arms felt numb from the cold, but he could feel them still. His back bled freely from the basically self inflicted wound from the armor. The pain was unbearable. It made his thoughts scattered and unorganized. Shame for failing. Guilty for leaving Josleen behind, although not by his choice. 'Josleen.' He thoughts lingered on her for a very long time. A long time for him, anyway, given the situation. He prayed for her happiness, unbelieving that he'd see her again. The weight of those lost today would be his punishment and his purgatory would be now. Lost in his thoughts, unable to move, and almost to the point of just wanting it all to end. But it wouldn't. He started to fade, eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head, but heard something. T wasn't from the words nearby. This was much farther away. His name? It sounded like...Josleen? Was she here? How? An eagerness to move came to him. He needed to get her attention. He needed help. 'Stand up.' His thoughts demanded, but his body didn't respond. More specifically, his legs didn't respond. 'What is...?' The paladin couldn't stand. A sudden wave of understanding flooded his head. And fear. The fall and collision with the mountain, the excruciating pain from his back...He didn't try to move anymore. His eyes closed, but uncontrollable thoughts prevented him from passing out. What future did he have now? What kind of King could he be, being unable to stand up for those who respected him? Paladin of Arkhen, who couldn't save those who needed him the most. Not much of a paladin. What kind of lover...Train of thought was lost there. If Josleen was indeed here, he didn't want her to find him. His breathing slowed. No movement. Blood from his back drying over his armor. The paladin of Arkhen fainted. Temporarily lost in his personal purgatory of a future that didn't seem worth living.

Hildegarde looked to Kelovath and then to Eleenin, silently debating who she ought to save. She knew she would need Eleenin in the days to come, she would need the shaman for his wisdom and his standing within society. He was old and wise, much respected amongst the giants and he would be listened to when Hildegarde finally claimed the throne. She is already beginning to lean up towards Eleenin when she hears Josleen cry out 'Kelo!' and then fearfully call out for her. "I have him," she rumbles back, "stay with Laezila," she commands Josleen. The woods would be too dangerous for such a small and mortal being as Josleen. The knight tears her eye from Eleenin and his cage to gaze upon Kelovath just before he fainted. She has seen men with similar injuries and knew that unsettling their back might cost them their legs for the rest of their days, so she had to move him in such a way that did not terribly disturb his position. The dragon's large taloned hand hovered above Kelovath: the tips of her claws digging into the earth around him as her hand sank towards him. If he woke now, it would look as though he was in some kind of silver scaled cage. Her talons dug ever deeper into the earth and snow, her fingers pinching together slightly before she lifted her hand up to free the clump of earth and snow with the paladin atop it clean from the ground. He would be disturbed in this position but placing him back down would be out of the question. So Kelovath was held within the dragon's hand. Held safe and still, but robbing Hildegarde of a hand that might help her save the shaman. The dragon rears her head up again to peer at Eleenin's cage. "I cannot lose you," she tells the shaman with certainty. "I have Josleen nearby. You know she will flay my silver hide if you are lost," she tells the giant as she bares her teeth; evidently trying to grin in the saurian fashion but not quite managing it. The giant half chuckles, half coughs. He knows Josleen would never do such a thing, but the thought amuses him. "I am lost, my Queen. You must go," he urges her again. But the dragon cannot and will not accept no for an answer. Instead, her maw surges forward to break through the bars of his cage as her fangs nip at the tip of the branch to cut the length of it. "Your Queen commands you to live!" she snarls, her free scaled hand curling into a tight fist as it braced the cage from below. "Your Queen commands you to ignore your pain and climb upon her back so you may live, shaman."

In the brief moment between Josleen asking her question and Hildegarde answering, Josleen hears Laezila speak of her failure. Unsure how to respond, and unsure how she even feels about this foolhardy mission (not that the bard has room to speak about that), the bard is spared the awkwardness of response by the dragon's affirmation that she has Kelovath. Presumably alive. Josleen presses her hands to her mouth as the tears keep coming, counter-intuitively crying harder now as the wealth of emotions spike and overwhelm. She feels relief he's been found, fear for his condition, uncertainty of what comes next, impatience to see him right -now-, and crushing sadness that he's suffering at all. Laezila gets a fair share of Josleen's sympathy as well, which is unexpected. The bard turns back to Laezila and crouches by the vampire's dislocated shoulder. She rubs her cheeks with her sleeved wrists and tries to compose herself enough to speak. It's difficult to tend to the wounded when her nerves are frayed, and her heart trembles in concert with Kelovath's. She finally manages to sob out a few words, "We're leaving soon." She looks back to Hildegarde and finally sees Eleenin as he slowly limps his way onto the silver's back. Remembering Laezila's grief at failure, she says finally, "Queen Hildegarde has them. Eleenin and," she sobs again, "...and Kelovath. They're alive." She pulls from her satchel a jar of salve and applies it to Laezila's smaller cuts and gashes to prevent infection, which frankly isn't necessary for vampires, but Josleen feels useless right now. The light, feathery touches typically bring her patients comfort anyway. Tt's rejuvenation derived from the solidarity communicated through physical touch. As she tends to Laezila she looks to Hildegarde frequently in an attempt to catch a sight of the paladin. Whenever she feels herself despair for him, she refocuses on Laezila, her own vision blurred by tears. "How's your pain?" she whispers weakly. "Has the anesthetic taken affect?"

Kelovath was alive? Eleenin, too? The latter was the one that Laezila initially intended to save upon the discovery of his imprisonment when she arrived at the cages with the former, who she bore the guilt of failure for -if she was faster, smarter, if she were simply better, then that mammoth and that giant would be the ones over the cliff, Kelovath would be fine, and Laezila would be greeted as a hero! She would be celebrated upon her return, people would thank her for saving the lives of their loved ones or valuable assets, the welcome she would feel would be tremendous -if not moreso loving than the Trist'Oth slaves when she spoke of freeing them. She missed that. She sorely missed it. Those slaves would jump at a chance to join her house, even disregard their fear of their owner's punishment if they could garner the powerful young matron's attention -she'd save them. Protect them. Give them a life. The diminutive vampire's thoughts were trailing now, likely due to the sedative and pain-suppressant, but her attention was desperately attempted to focus upon Josleen when the woman spoke to her. Alive. That was it; Kelovath and Eleenin were alive. In a way, should they stay alive, maybe she saved at least one person she set out to; she had no idea of either of their states, mindsets or otherwise. Her mind became filled with the visage of the crying Josleen, who was asking her -something. Laezila couldn't make it out. The common tongue, she couldn't get recollect it -not in this moment. She thought she was dying. She wasn't. She would regenerate, eventually, even without Josleen's administrations helping hasten that. But, Laezila thought it was nearing the end. "F'sarn taudl. Whol Skylei, nin Eleenin," came the harsh, yet melodic sound of the drow tongue -like elven, except with a certain bite to it that was inheirent in her kind. The lithe girl's hand reached up, quite literally and agonizingly grasping hold of the rib that was protruding from her front in leverage to incline her head upward, closer toward Josleen for quieter, weaker words to come forth; "F'sarn taudl whol l'thalack, whol vel'bol ussta lodias xunus, whol Gevurah lu'whol dosst valyrin..." A moment of clarity, in her mind. Of course, she still had no idea about Kelovath and Josleen's relationship -and she still was not yet unconscious, "Ajak ussta houj ulu xun bwael, naut ussta wynthe ulu xun verin." It was all super dramatic -but in her defense, she was certain she was dying!

Within his lost state of mind, the paladin knew nothing of what was going on around him. That Josleen and Hildegarde were both here, Laezila was alive, and it seems the healer shaman would survive as well. His body was lifted with the ground he fall on, making no movement as Hildegarde commanded the shaman giant to climb onto her back. No visions came to Kelovath. No thoughts or memories. For the broken man, there was only darkness.

Hildegarde came lumbering from the treeline with Eleenin clinging to her neck weakly and one arm held upright to keep Kelovath supported and comfortable. The dragon looks between Josleen and Laezila, dropping down to her belly carefully and dipping her body towards Josleen. "Get her on my back," she urges the bard, "and sit behind her to keep her in place. These people need aid and we can only get that aid at the camp," she knew Josleen would not waste time in making sure Kelovath had the aid. "If you cannot lift her, move her towards my hand."

Josleen's face pinches in confusion as Laezila begins speaking feverishly in drow. She's seen this behavior before, though not from Laezila. Past patients when faced with critical wounds, and believing they won't survive to see the next sun, also have rambled in whatever mother tongue moves their soul. In Laezila's anguished expression she sees the faces of those she's cared for before, some who survived and many more who didn't. It humanizes Laezila in a way, and is perhaps made more effective by the fact that Josleen is currently emotionally weak and easily impressed upon. "Shh, save your strength," she says. Unfortunately, the bard speaks no drow and the vampire's eloquence is wasted. That's when Hildegarde clears the treeline and Josleen can't resist the impulse to pull away from Laezila and run towards the claw that protects the paladin. "Kelovath!" she calls, not yet sure if he is awake or not. From a distance she can see the heavy, deep dents in the silhouette of his armor. The sight makes her feel light-headed, like the ground has dropped away. She squeezes her torso through the claws, swishing her shoulders this way and that, so that she is in the scaly cage with him, her face above his in the narrow space between his body and the underside of Hildegarde's claw. Her voice whines, words just barely distinguishable by a whimper. "Oh, Kelo, darling." Hands gently cup either side of his cut-up and bruised face. The machinery of war has spat out countless beat up faces as bad as this, even worse than this (poor Mieleg), but nothing has prepared Josleen for it, because it isn't the 'what' that was done, but the 'who' it was done to. Her thumb strokes an uncut swath of his cheek. Hot tears still fall freely. They need to go, now. She presses a sweet, extended kiss on his cheek where her thumb just stroked. She wants to say something to him, whisper some encouragement even if he is unconscious, but her throat simply won't unchoke. Her shoulders snake back out from between the dragon's claws and she returns to Laezila. Normally moving someone in this condition is far too dangerous, but a vampire will regenerate, they have few other options, and Josleen gave Laezila a strong dose of anesthesia. Still, the bard moves as carefully as she can, and is mindful of the various injuries. The ex-matron weighs nothing at all and even the slight Josleen can maneuver her onto the dragon's back. Once Laezilais secure, she pats Hildegarde's broad neck and mumbles, 'Thank you'. Her voice is thick with snot. She's cried herself raw and stuffed. The bard herself sits between drow and giant, at her front and at her back respectively. She pats Eleenin's arm encouragingly and offers him a sad smile, like a frown struggling against itself. With a look and nod the mentor and his student communicate a mutual appreciation and relief for his still beating heart. Josleen doesn't mind the blood that seeps into her clothing from both Laezila and Eleenin. Her thoughts are elsewhere, with the paladin she cannot see from here. She stares into the dragon's scaly back as if she would will herself to see through it and never take her eyes off Kelovath again.