RP:TOW round 1 Aftermath

This is a Healer's Guild RP.

Along The Cliff

Synopsis After the very first match of the ToW the bard Alex is treated and healed by Joan.

Joan ushered the wounded woozy bard into the set-up healer's tent, she was very careful to not jar his gravely injured arm, and the vampiric healer gingerly lowered the dark-haired man onto a cot. Once the bard was seated upon the cot the undead woman would quickly move to assess the broken and now seemly ragged broken arm, making a face she would quickly order a nearby novice healer to bring over a prepared drought of milk of poppy. This she would offer the bard as she loudly but evenly addressed the man. "That was quite a match there fellow! I will need you to drink this potion here and then I will set about treating you, is it okay if the novice next to me removes your armor?" Joan asked, giving a curt nod to another nearby novice to set about setting out a large basin with hot clean water. Next would follow a pile of clean fresh bandages, with a large bottle of antiseptic and a clean set of washed clothes. Joan would wait for the bard to answer before she would introduce herself. "I'm Joan and I will be your healer today. I am of journymaid rank so you are in very good hands." Other novices would move about inside the tent moving with purpose in the quiet din of the tent.

Alex feels his stomach turning in a cycle and finds himself gritting his teeth quite tightly to try and prevent the seemingly inevitable eruption of bile from taking place. He's out of all sorts and struggling to comprehend the scene around him as it unfolds - somehow seeming more chaotic than the deathmatch he'd narrowly survived just moments ago. Using his good hand to pull the goggles from his face, he tosses them to the side and allows his shaking gaze to settle on the one speaking. He knows her lips are moving and based on her stare he's confidently assessed that she's indeed directing comments towards him to which he offers a very confused glare for a moment as his brain plays a bit of catch-up processing what little of her words he could before replying simply with, "Uh. Yes?" That seems to be well enough for the novice as Alex is suddenly being undressed in front of the lot of them. His stare doesn't move from Joan for a bit, and it seems as if he's trying to piece together some intricate jigsaw puzzle in his mind before he finally finds the words he'd desperately been searching for, "I like your hair. It's a very pretty color. That cut looks great on you." He then lets his eyes fall to the gushing wound located on his left form arm which triggers the reflux he'd so desperately been working to keep down and just like that, the blood is mixed with puke, and apparently, having stomach contents leak into an open wound is painful because the bard shouts in pain - thankfully without using his -real- voice. He begins muttering apologies as tears continue streaming down his face. He may have won the duel, but he'd definitely lost his dignity.

Joan deftly dodges out of the way as the bard upheaves the contents of his stomach all down his barely attached arm. Joan offers a polite enough nod as she moves to grab up a fresh washrag and dip it into the hot steaming clean water. "Thanks, is it natural if you can believe it." Joan said as she deftly and quickly cleaned up the bard, careful of his arm area she would lightly offered a new clean wet wash rag to the man so he could wipe at his mouth if he wished to, the novice with the draught waited close by still holding out the offer of milk of the poppy to the man as the other novice that set out the cleaning supplies and bandages moved to spirit away the now dirty washrag that Joan used to clean up the bile. "I'm gonna bind up the two ragged ends to your arm here, I need to control the bleeding before I try to mend it. I will also need you to lay down once you drink the potion, my fellow. I will do this as quickly and painlessly as I can, this will be a magical reattachment as the amount of damage that has happened doesn't bold well for you." Joan offers a pat of sympathy to the bard's knee.

Alex is impressed at the claim of her bright purple hair being all natural and this shows clearly in the way his lips turn downwards with a few nods of the head. He found the truth of it to be a bit hard to swallow but it hadn’t really crossed his mind that he may not be speaking to a human at the moment and besides, in this world, folks of all kinds came in all fashions. Still, he cared little about the legitimacy of her claim and instead found himself looking up to admire her a bit more as his good arm moved to wipe away tears which inadvertently caught some of his bile and brushed it up into his eye causing a sickening sting – literally. He groans and takes the offered rag but starts with his eye before moving to his mouth with rapid and quick dabs several times to try and clear up his mess. He also takes the offered potion and lifts it to his lips to suck down a swig of the contents and swishes it around in his mouth before spitting it out to the floor just as Joan’s words suddenly catch up with his delayed thoughts. “Oh, right, OK, sorry.” He mutters as his eyes bounce back to the vial in hand ensuring the contents are still enough for whatever needs to be done… then he realizes he has no idea how much it’ll take so he just turns the bottom to the sky and downs the entirety in one go. The bard follows her directions surprisingly well considering his woozy state but judging by his expression he’s none too thrilled about the next steps. He takes a very heavy shaking sigh and nods in agreement with her. “Do whatever you need to do. I can’t promise I won’t scream, so please have everyone cover their ears or use earplugs just in case…” A fair warning that would seem quite dramatic for a normal patient but based on the proof from the duel that had just unfolded, it was clear that the man’s concern was legitimate – his voice was devastating.

Joan offers a small smile, just enough to show a hint of pearly white fang as the bard finally takes what is left of the potion, once again she would lightly pats at Alex's knee as the novices move around them both in a more urgent manner. One would take the dirty washrag from the bard as another fetched a couple of tourniquets from the supply cubbies. Joan would step back enough for the Bard to move to lay down on the cot, her icy pale hand moving to fix the small pillow for the bard's head while she rapidly fired off a few directions and orders of what she would need to care for the ragged mess that was the bard's arm. A fresh clean smock is laid over Alex's bare chest and other whole shoulder. Ear plugs were given out to everyone inside the tent, and everyone placed them properly in their ears as a precaution. Once the young man would lay prone on the cot Joan would move in a blurry motion using her supernatural speed to slip each tourniquet on one end of the injured ragged arm, she'd tightly pull each end down and out about the ragged broken arm. Should the bard cry out Joan would offer a light pat to his other arm to let him know it would be alright.

Alex would’ve found himself swinging and screaming at the sight of Joan’s fang five or so years ago, but the man had come a long way from his phobia… after all, his best friend had been a vampire once… a strong point of contention for the two of them that he often stewed on while experiencing particularly remorseful days. Still, the sight put no fear in his heart now, and he followed Joan’s orders without hesitation. As she moved about, he struggled to sway the anxiety that rose in his chest, and the more he worried about the possible friendly fire from screaming, the more inevitable it became. He tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat to dial back the rising power but the more he concentrated, the more apparent it became that he would fail. A blue mist begins to fall from his eyes, a very light dusting at first, the tell-tale sign of the musicians’ mana conjuring itself, and when Joan sets to work Alex grits his teeth so tightly it feels as if they’re about to shatter. In the place of a scream, a heavy and constant groan is given which causes the earth beneath them to rumble from his Baritone Quake. The display isn’t quite strong enough to separate the earth as it had been in the duel, and it was far more favorable than the Banshee wail that would certainly blow the tent away in the blink of an eye. His good hand quickly reaches out and grabs Joan’s leg which he squeezes tightly to steel himself and eventually, he is able to calm the groaning but only after supplies had toppled over to the ground and assistants had lost their footing. His ocean blue eyes pop open with a watery to look towards the healer and effectively display a hybrid of hate and thankfulness in a traumatic glare. He’s shaking and inhales sharply through his running nostrils, “Do you enjoy the pain of your patients or do are you more focused on the finished results?” A playful jab at her profession to try and take his mind off the situation at hand. He relaxes his grip on her leg, “Sorry”, he comments, though it’s unclear if he’s apologizing for the joke or for trying to pull a chunk of her leg off as she worked.

Joan offers the bard a rueful stare as the magic and power in his voice made the ground under her and everyone else roll and rumble, this would only cause the bard to jar his gravely injured broken arm. One amethyst brow shot upwards as she read his lips, as the earplugs kept her eardrums protected. She'd tut-tutted the bard and showed him she would flick him between the brows to properly knock him out into unconscious. It would be easy for her since her strength was greater. "No proper healer enjoys the pain their patient goes through. Such a silly question, now if you can keep down with your vocal cords, we can finish this with you awake. If not...I'll flick you into unconscious so I can work in peace." She offered a grin down at the bard, she could have been joking back at Alex...or be dead serious, it was left up to the bard to make up his own mind. As the ground settles the novices that were shaken about set about to set everything right inside the tent and return to the business of helping Joan tend to Alex. The vampiric healer did not even flinch as the bard grabbed at her leg, she barely even felt, to be honest her flesh was undead after all. Once everything was settled the one novice that was close by with the hot water basin would offer the bard a small thick leather mouth guard, they all didn't want him to possibly shatter his nice white even teeth now did they?! Joan would move to pull out the portable arm section of the cot, she would gingerly lay the pieces upon it while instructing that his bloody pieces be washed and cleaned so she could better assess the ragged broken mess. Another novice approached with the numbing cream as well as Joan's very own necro goo concoction. This she would use to help reattach once she had taken care of the bleeding. "I'm gonna move even quicker here, you have lost a serious amount of blood, I'm impressed that you are even still conscious at this point. My necro goo is going to help bond and seal and reattach all the broken mess of veins, arteries, torn-apart muscles, tendons, and the lot. Once that is accomplished, I will then apply my healing magic." The vampiric healer explained in that same clear even calm tone of voice to the bard.

Alex was both impressed and terrified at the healer’s demeanor but the expression that read the clearest was fear. The bard knew how to act to get what he wanted but he also knew how to be a massive baby when it came to pain, and vanity and this unfortunate turn of events had the displeasure of being an abomination of both. He decides to heed Joan’s warning and takes her words at face value, so he takes little coercing to bite down on the leather band, the texture making his teeth extremely uncomfortable as he tries his best to suppress the full body shutter that inevitably follows – even to the detriment of his arm. Still, he manages to keep his composure, mostly, and at the mention of a “necro goo” he just whines and closes his eyes tightly ready to let the undead woman work her magic. For better or worse, Alex consents to whatever comes next.

The vampiric healer now went into what would seem like a flurry of constant motion, a bunch of fresh clean, and new cotton bandage squares were placed within her reach as her chilly pale hands moved in a blur, swabbing the numbing cream on and around the messy two ends of the bard's arm. The necro goo came next once the undead woman had deemed that Alex's nerves were numb enough. She gooped the whole mess up while placing the two broken ends right together, watching as the goo went about its business of healing and reattaching the two ragged pieces into one whole arm. Joan would now apply her chilly cold dead fingers against the knitting flesh as her purple aura healing energies flowed out from her fingers and into the rapidly healing arm of the bard. "Those nerve endings will be firing back up here in a moment and your arm where the injury is will feel like it's burning, itching, and everything else. Please do not overreact, this is a good positive sign that the damage that was done is now abating, and you should have full use of the freshly healed whole arm." Her focus is on the knitting being done under her icy fingertips, the tips tracing around the clean shrinking closing the gap. "With luck, there should barely be any trace of scarring on your whole flesh. I'm still working on that, but that is just purely cosmetic. Many folks today find some scars handsome and sexy. It's all in how you personally see it and work it physically and mentally." She'd direct the nearest novice to remove the two straps she had placed on Alex's arm earlier to control and stop the wild bleeding, allowing the knitting veins and such to completely reconnect as a whole.

Alex sees nothing but spots over the next few seconds as he tightly closes his eyes to avoid seeing any more gore during the process though he can’t help but peek out from his little sanctuary once or twice to see Joan working her magic… not literally since he won’t look at his arm but instead, he simply studies the intent on her face and the rapid movements that leave him in awe. The goo seems to do its trick since he doesn’t go crying out like a wailing newborn again but he is still able to slightly feel topical pressure and her icy touch feels incredibly good on his hot skin – he doesn’t linger too long on -why- she’s so cold, that might cause him a bit of panic itself, or he may find fascination in the beautiful irony of the dead expertly healing the living! As Joan explains what comes next and he does form a frown at the mention of scarring. Despite all his growth over the last year and a half, Alex still struggled with his vanity quite a bit and the thought of imperfections left him disheartened. He probably should’ve taken that into consideration before entering the Titans tournament, but the bard wasn’t exactly known for his rational and well-thought-out actions. The last bit of her comments on the scarring though manage to flip his frown and he laughs a bit, “Well, Joan, I guess I’ll be struggling to keep the admirers at bay before too long then, so you may want to take your shot now while you have the chance.” His flirtatious manner is interrupted by some of the feeling beginning to return to his arm which humbles him as he closes his eyes again and grits his teeth to let the process continue. After a moment, he does follow up with a more respectable comment that seems to come from a place of sincerity. “Thank you for helping me.”

Joan chuckles dryly as she gives a shake of her head, "Sorry bub, I'm not interested. I'm asexual, to be honest." She offered a small smile and winked down at her patient as the novice near them finished gathering up all the bloody dirty used bandages. These would be properly disposed of and burnt so no one could use them for any kind of magical mischief against the bard at a later date. Joan believed in 'cleanliness being next to godliness', or something along those lines. As Alex's knitted now whole arm finished absorbing the last of Joan's healing energies, she would offer a pat to his other shoulder that the hospital gown covered in a kindly motherly manner. "It's my pleasure Alex, the more people I get to heal the more experience I gain within the guild, and that in turn helps me rank upward toward my next goal within the healer's guild. It would help me out loads if you spread the word around that I fixed you up! It was a pleasure and please seek me out again, if possible, for any next healing you may need." She would step away from the cot to finish up her own personal cleanup while calling out to the group of novices what a great job they did on this round of ToW trauma healing.

Alex smirks at her rejection and promptly replies in a humored tone, “I seem to have that effect on people.” He finds the idea of gaining experience from playing with the mortally wounded to rank up in a cult of healers quite a foreign concept, but he suppresses the urge to blurt out how creepy that entire idea is and instead offers his reassurance to the purple-haired healer that he will indeed make good on her name and even offers the lead for potentially more work. “With my advance, I’ll be participating in round two of the tournament. Historically, I’ve never made it passed round two and quite often left the arena in a hot mess. It would be comforting to see you if history comes to repeat itself.” The man sits himself up and wastes little time gathering his things now that he was feeling quite a bit better, though aches could still be felt pretty much all over. “I think I’m going to go find a nice cool spot to lay down for a bit… I’m not sure if it’s the effects of my brain rattling from my fall or the adrenaline crash but I’m exhausted.” He provides his thanks to each of the assistants and makes a final show of gratitude to Joan with a curt bow. “To next time.” He filed the image of her face in the back of his mind and knew that he would require her assistance again in the future. As he fled the scene, he was overcome with a sense of melancholy at the sight of the rapidly emptying arena – despite his victory, he still felt that familiar void tugging at his heart and stomach and it left him unfulfilled. He hoped that if he came out on top this year, it would magically fix the problem. He knew better – yet he still hoped. Alex made his exit while straightening his battered clothes and slipped off into the direction of the Frostmaw Tavern where he planned to sink into one of those fluffy chairs by the fire and simply cease to exist for a while.