RP:The Search Goes On

Sabrina woke up in a room in the company of four walls and crying down the hall. A sharp breath sets her upright and the smell of Ara was familiar enough despite the setting where the whole house looked turned upside down. But it was still standing. ‘Medical Care’ was what she was left with, and in her case it was no more than being put in a solitary environment until the inevitable happened. Death would have been far easier, as she took that first breath all the pains of reanimation would have hit her all at once, but it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t have been the last. She grabs the nearest piece of clothing; an oversized sweater sticking out of her broken armoire, and rushes back to the scene she was pulled from the night before. It was a fast trip, faster still as the hellbeast hadn’t left his post at Ara’s front door since she was brought there under direction of her rescuer. The last thing she knew was certain was that Lita and Krice were still there. She wouldn’t be content until she found them. She comes to the front doors of the throne room, passing the diligent workers that turned to taking shifts after such a buildup of the dead and dying. Climbing over the rubble she enters the place she lived through with a heavy heart and high hopes. “Krice?” There were others here, some victims, some families of victims, all searching for those unaccounted for. “Lita?”

Sabrina made her way inside, careful to choose her steps wisely, in case… in case what? Could anyone have survived this? It was all very numbing. A small group of citizens had looped several chains around Ro, the intent was to bring the doors down so people could get in and out more safely. Sabrina would continue her search, more sections of the building’s guts would be tethered to the beast and hauled offsight as the Throne Room was cleared one minute section at a time. She stops several paces from Goren, her mouth dropped wide until it is clamped shut. She knew his kind required things but this was not the time or place, and what he was taking was not flesh and blood but something more as he pilfered through the memory cortex of the victims. All she needed was for him to happen across a Kingsguard, or someone with more information only meant for the Larketian Council… the King and newly crowned Queen. “Get out.” Her order echoed in the hollow room. Those crying turned to look, and now all eyes were on Goren and his actions previously surveyed as a person in search of someone lost.

Goren looks at the woman demanding him, huffing softly as he moves a hand to his hip, leaning slightly as he looked at the woman, "I will have you know, I was a VIP here, and I was promised a good meal." he looks at the corpses and idly kicks a piece of rubble over one of the split skulls he had left in his wake, coughing softly as he looks around, "I mean, I can stop until you find what you want. Krice was it?" He looks around the place, holding onto his chain as he looked around the room, the runes on his chains glowing dully as he nods, "Well, someone is alive here. Not for long though. You should stop chastising me and find them before their time ticks over." He waves his hand, "I mean, I could point you in the right direction."

Lionel can feel his legs begin to buckle. He's not far now -- not far from that heap of whatever's left of the fort. He bites his lip and states into it blankly. Something compels him forward, although he cannot say just what. He pauses, potentially not so far from a certain silver-haired enigma in an enclosed environment, and leans against the remains of a flagpole. The lean becomes an awkward slide, and soon the man is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the worst catastrophe to strike Lithrydel since we'll before his return. Carrion birds stalk the morning air, encircling him for the sphere of casualties all around him. In the easterly distance, a woman screams to discover her infant son, broken. The darkness Lionel so suspected? It's here. Sabrina screams at him, tears suddenly pouring from her eyes. These were her people, people she loved, and healed, and some of them since their first breath. Her voice shrieks across the empty chasm. “ GET. OUT!” She’d follow his direction though, there by the entrance where she could sense fragments of life, but nothing steady or recognizable to the one she was primarily here for. There is a crowd closing in on Goren now, nothing totally threatening just people- who were looking for the bodies to honor their people. And he was desecrating them. Her uncalculated steps brought her to where Lionel was, she recognized him but vaguely; there was a big difference in a battle-ready man and one about to work himself into an early grave. She comes to his side, situating her slight frame under his arm. Her voice is trembling still. “You need to sit, just for a moment.” Krice couldn’t have been more than a few feet away, but how could she tell with the sensory overload happening all around her?

Goren looks at the woman and raises his hands, "They're just bodies. I can't take their souls. I'm not a lich." He looks at the gathering group and pauses as he realised he was vastly outnumbered, but, these people were tired, he doubted any of them had slept since the attack, and his own body did not need to follow such norms, but he did not wish to have to kill so many after such a tragedy. He may of been a jerk, but, the excess loss of fodder was a waste even to him, shaking his head as he flicks the chains into his sleeves, dipping his fingers into the blood on the floor and tracing a rune upon the rubble as he bows deeply, much to the chargrin of some of the onlookers. How, after such a tragedy, could the creature just not care? He walks over behind Sabrina and looks down, "Oh gods. Look at you. You'll barely be able to work for a second." He looks down at the male and then back to the woman, "I know we may of had a rude introduction, but, I believe I can help here. Free of charge." He extends his hand tot he woman, totally expecting it to be slapped away in response, but, well, Krice's life may very well be on the line afterall

Lionel blinks. A woman is upon him now. His vision takes a moment to clear, and in that moment his azure eyes are cloudier. When they snap back into focus, he recognizes her and does as she tells him. "Huh," he says. "Glad to see you back on your feet again so soon. I made sure you were left far from that sinful freak." He coughs. A bit of loose dust escapes his lungs, and he slowly rises from his place but wobbles precariously in so doing. "Frak, it's all gone to hell again."

Sabrina arches a thin dark brow at Lionel’s words. So, it was he who took her from this place. Her eyes naturally go to the place where she last recalled being. The impenetrable structure the couple was trapped in was cut away and presumably they had been freed. She leans in to face him, eyes black like the devil, and so she could return some sort of favor as her hand graces the line of his jaw. If he allowed that brief moment to pass he would be filled with a sensation of peace, thankfulness, kindness. Riding along the emotion she conveyed to him would be a rush of energy that is quickly cut off by someone too stupid to realize the gravity of his heinous acts. The moment her skin would break contact with his it would be momentarily traumatic, equal to everything he loved in the world being ripped away in an instant. There were honestly better ways, more universally practiced ways, that she could break that bond. She releases Lionel completely, puffing up with all her five-foot stature and balling up her fist to swing in Goren’s facial-direction. There would be no slapping or further kind(ish) gestures as to whether or not he was going to remove himself from the premises. Krice wouldn’t have stood for it, and neither would she.

Goren follows her with his eyes and remains in a squat up until the blow came across his face, skittering slightly as he fell back upon the ground, a few loud cheers as the undead growled, pointing to one of the random civillians, "I know where you live Jerry! Don't make me kill you." He blinks, he hadn't fallen ill to the sin of pride yet, his mind reeled a bit from the experience, and from the damage to his pride, the punch from the woman barely affected him bar that outburst, shaking his head as he rose, looking at the two and bowing slightly as he walks back along the rubble to sit on the top of a destroyed wall, his chains gently scrapping the stones with the wind as he watched in silence, looking down at the rubble, and towards Krice's resting place, just curious about the proceedures.

Lionel does not even register Sabrina's assault on Goren. Nothing is noted in any fashion after the healer removes her touch from his person. The depth of Lionel's emotional traumas is too vivid, its extent too great. So much death. A whole kingdom in ashes, a pregnant wife brutally stabbed by his own hand, all the fallen in all the battles in-between. Even if the effect is momentary in nature, it blows a hole through his heart that will rend him unnaturally for the remainder of the day. It is hell, reimagined. With a stare, Catal's last prince turns around and walks away, silently. Sabrina will not see him again today.

Sabrina didn’t have time to witness his departure. She was watching Goren, intently, and his attention to that space just beside her begs at least a visual scan. The glint of a blade is sticking up, barely noticeable, through the crack of an air pocket, buried in segments too heavy to move. Her heart dropped, it may have been wishful thinking but she screams Rohk’s name and the mutt comes charging in. Her hands are up, signaling that he should not bear his near two-ton weight on the pile of rubble just before him. She points. “There… I saw something.” Ro puts his nose to the ground, his tails posed in perfect stillness until the tips lick the ground with promise. “Is it him?” The Beasty lifts his head, one could swear there was an actual nod, affirming her query like he understood. And he did. He still has the chains latched upon his form, and the elfess had all but forgotten all those present besides who might be under that section of stone. The chains are placed around a jagged corner and Rohk is already heaving the chunk like a giant clamshell to open up a passage.

Goren gives a little golf-clap. He doesn't have anything to add here Krice 's sword wasn't the tip of steel that Sabrina saw, but as she removed rubble with Rohk's help, she'd soon see the dust-covered, blood-matted head of someone pinned to the ground all the way at the bottom of the passage. It was indeed the silver-haired warrior, whose sword wasn't visible at present. There was rubble across his back and legs, shattered stone having fallen in such a way as to lock against itself -around- his head and torso rather than directly on him. He was unconscious, deeply unaware of the chaos around him - but breathing.

Sabrina didn’t know what she saw, didn’t care. Once she saw his form she slid down the stone slide and began throwing bits of this and that outward to unbury him. So, it was that the creep knew something, and it was that he did not give this information freely. “Somebody help!” Even if she did manage to uncover everything that sheltered in atop him, she knew his dense body would be too much for her to bring entirely to the surface. Several onlookers converge on that place. Rohk is beside himself, wanting to do more, but tied to the goddam rock and keeping it open for Krice’s removal. The community of tired and worn survivors and healers flooded to that area to assist in the rescue of the fallen warrior.

Krice 's left arm was a mess, covered in dried blood and stone-dust and wounded from shoulder to elbow, his sleeves in tatters. Just a few inches away from that hand lay his sword, flatly pinned to the ground beneath rock yet to be removed. There were various cuts and abrasions across his entire body, courtesy of the destruction that had engulfed him, and his right leg below the knee had broken under the weight of falling debris. His right -arm- was roughly untouched with minor grazing across his knuckles, his hand fisted around a silver chain. The warrior's heartbeat was slow and faint but consistent, and if not for all the blood and mess, he could have been mistaken for sleeping. Goren sighs softly, he had led the woman to the male, he might as well help with the exhumation, his few steps brought him to the group as he wraps the chain around a townperson's foot, tripping them as he pulls them aside, knowing what he was about to do would hurt him like hell, he looks at the woman as he shoved his foot under Krice's elbow, flicking the chain downwards as he tucked it under the male's armpits, doing the same on the other side as he grabs the ends of the chains, working it as a sling as he sighs, "Urgh, now they'll smell like armpit for days." He begins to tug firmly, the shackles on his wrist digging into his flesh as he groaned in pain, stepping backwards as he used what strength he had to pull the living from the ground.

Sabrina knew Krice didn’t take well to people taking liberties, sleeping, awake… it didn’t matter. Still, Goren was serving a purpose so she climbs out of the hole. Pissy, but cooperative. The only problem was one that lingered in her mind, but she didn’t speak it out loud “Stop!” She gave pause, she didn’t know if this was the correct course, but as a crack spreads across the section being held by Rohk’s chains she changes her mind and orders him to “Pull!” It was like night and day with this one… a bit on the crazy side to the untrained eye.

Krice was unmoving as healers and hell hound alike worked to excavate his would-be tomb, though rock grinding stone sent crumbs of dust and debris to the ground around him, telling if just how precarious the situation was. In the end, he would be relatively easy to pull from the rubble, apart from his solid dead weight, his scabbard still attached to his right hip, sword on the ground.

Goren grabs his chains and pulls harder on command, sending himself spilling to the floor as Krice was pulled from the rubble by their combined strength, the undead blinking as he stares at the sky, the male on his legs, "Huh. Pretty morning."

Sabrina saw the sword, she also knew how much he loved it. But, that rock was coming down. Deliberations took only a moment but the Elfess jumps in the hole and with two hands begins dragging the sword out. Heavier than she though, but not so much she can’t heft it free. She is close at Krice’s heels when he emerges. A thunderous crack echoes and the slab is halved, crimping shut with just enough clearance she felt the shift of matter at her back. She may have peed a little. The Elfess is clutching the sword to her chest, convincing herself it was okay to breath before approaching the dirty form of the silver-haired enigma. “Krice?” She gives the order. “Take him outside.” Clearly this woman’s interest on Goren’s version of the morning was completely missing from that equation. He would eventually be taken to the House of Ara for recovery and very detailed care by the Master healer herself. Word would be sent to find the woman known as Lita, an invitation extended with a map and written set of instructions on how to find him. This is a Healer's Guild RP.