RP:Xicotl Frostmaw Battle - The Triage Post Battle

Synopsis: After defeating Xicotl, many civilians are injured from another earthquake. Warriors rise from the chasm in the city to get other warriors to safety, and they work on saving civilians from the debris.

Part of the Dissonance Theory Arc

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Frostmaw

Krice appeared from the ground quite a distance southwest of Frostmaw Fort, leaning forward to ascend a natural highway of steep, jagged ramps and ledges. Minutes earlier, a massive, powerful column of light had split the earth only a few meters south, triggering an earthquake that rippled through the City. As if it hadn’t been damaged enough by Xicotl’s first appearance a week prior, this second significant earthquake crumbled some of the buildings that had survived henceforth, leaving rubble where once at least the shells of structures stood. As soldiers, healers, and ordinary citizens reacted to usher others to safety, and to draw victims - alive and dead - from the destruction, the few remaining thralls that had plagued the City for seven days ceased to move and dropped where they ambled, some crumbling to ash, others left to rot.

Krice : With damage widespread, everyone in the vicinity was occupied with their chosen or designated tasks--rescue, assistance, clearance of debris--so there was no fanfare or greeting for the ‘heroes’ who had felled the world-ending beast. Finally cresting the surface, he grunted as he found his footing amid cracked granite and powdered snow, carrying across both arms the unconscious and injured Kailani. He turned his face from the woman to expel a lung-deep cough, but didn’t linger to suffer the symptoms of his own injuries. Pressing on, the enigmatic swordsman--with only his white sword on his back--crossed the jagged vastness of the ruined city and stopped shortly at a pair of male healers who had stooped with a stretcher to search for victims in the rubble. There was a short exchange, but with Kailani clearly needing help, they took her from the warrior without much delay. Krice turned thereafter and shook out his right hand, the topside and outer edge burned as if by hot liquid. It was clearly causing him discomfort, but as he stepped away from the healers, his gait was uneven and stiff, lending to a deeper, unseen problem that bothered him more.

Talyara (Post 1 of 2):: There had been some…disagreement about where Talyara would be. Krice, thinking of almost nothing but Taly’s safety, entreated her to stay at home and put up a barrier and remain safe. The little witch stood on the balcony and watched as Krice left on the back of Gylworliath and waited until they were out of sight before she got to work. She grabbed whatever bags she could find and entered into the small infirmary room inside Krice’s cabin. She stuffed all the bags to bursting with everything she could from fresh bandages, suture kits, clinic concocted cocktails, as well as her only folk medicine in terms of salves, tinctures, and herbs. It would take her forever to walk back towards the scene of the battle and she was just wondering if Krice would think to send Gyl back when she remembered there -was- another way for her to fly there. Stuffed in the back of her closet was a completely black broom, handle and bristles alike. Etched into the wood were various runes and sigils which not only enchanted the object, but also offered her protection. Taly didn’t -completely- go against Krice’s wishes; she left ample food and water for their two cats and puppy before fastening a crystal cloak–a gift from an old friend–at her throat.

Talyara (Post 2 of 2):: Once outside in the cold, Talyara cast a protection shield around the cabin, making it look like it was coated in a shimmery gold dust, before she mounted her broom and took towards the sky, the bags pulled over her shoulders and on her back. Her flight was a little jerky at first–over the years she had grown accustomed to Gyl for air transportation–but she was a witch and getting reacclimated with her broom took only a few moments. Halfway to the scene she saw a familiar wyvern shape approaching from the opposite direction and she dropped to hide amongst the top of the trees until the shadow passed over her. Talyara didn’t know when she actually arrived, she only knew that the closer she got to the epicenter of the destruction, the more she would be needed. She weaved in and out of any type of thrall or beast who might hinder her approach, pressing herself flat against the broomstick to increase her speed. Talyara tumbled off her broom more than she gracefully landed but she immediately jumped into action before the broom came to a full stop. She spoke to it in an unfamiliar dialect, Kelvarian her native tongue, and the broomstick, scuttled into a corner to be out of the way. From there, Talyara was a tornado of energy, tossing her cloak in the general direction of her broom, and unladening herself with her overstuffed bags. She grabbed the nearest healer to ask where she was most needed and went to work.

Penelope is trying to steady herself as she balances her way out of the chasm. She clutches her left arm tightly to her chest while Ruari is guiding the girl from behind. Both of them look dusty from the heavy fall they took during the events. The blinding light. The illusions. The healer’s look exhausted. She appears once Krice gets Kailani out of the ripped earth first. Penelope looks to be in a wild amount of shock, but as soon as she reaches the main surface, the screams fill her ears as patrons of the city suffer with the large quake. The Ardelian has to shut off the chaos and get going on the front of helping others. “Get Kailani to the nearest tent,” she would call after Krice. Eyes find Ruari, “You need to check her internal injuries.” Beat. Ruari looks down on the freckled woman. “No, someone else can do that. You need to get your arm mended. I can do it–” Penelope interrupts with a, “She needs it more than I do.” It was true. Kailani could die. Nel would not. Easy choice. Ruari knew, and he parts away from the girl with the broken limb. Penelope moves behind and would find a side-space area where a chair is in the tent before she sits. Her body shifts forward to hold her arm steady while she digs to find some medical scissors. She finally sucks in a sharp breath and closes her eyes to keep the pain in. Now that she is alone, her eyes are glassy and she is in pain. Not to mention, there was emotional damage from whatever went down below in the depths of the crater. Countless dead bodies staring back at her crying for help. Darkness. The image of Ruari’s face clutched by potential roots as if he was going to turn into a thrall himself. Her aches are milder than others around her, but she was in pain, nevertheless. Eventually, the Ardelian shakes her head before bracing herself for the next step. This girl is gonna try to set her own arm before she helps the victims around the area.

Noah (1-2) Noah was at the healing room in Frostmaw when the first quake occurred and he felt the rumble from several miles away. The healers and the patients were filled with dread and everyone who had mobility tried to huddle in the main room for safety and to discuss what’s happening. Noah had been holding the hand of Stella, the girl who had lost her leg after being attacked by the giant plant a few days prior. He reassured her that she’s still going to lead a happy and fulfilling life, despite her medical issues. The man wasn’t one to keep friends or go out of his way to comfort someone that wasn’t directly his patient, but he had a soft spot for the girl and had climbed the mountain and paid her a visit. The second earthquake struck and Noah jumped to his feet to cradle Stella in his arms, as glass containers filled with medical supplies were sent flying off the shelves. He’s struck in the head by a painting that falls from the wall, giving him a nasty gash just above his temple, but he maintains his position over the helpless one-legged girl. As fast as it had occurred, the rumble had dissipated, and Noah stood upright and went to check on the others. Thankfully, the clinic is still standing, despite some minor infractions to the structure of the building. Knowing that he should tend to those elsewhere that could potentially need rescuing, the man says his goodbyes and heads out.

Noah (2-2) Noah enters the area and sees more wreckage than he could possibly imagine. People are screaming for their loved ones, a few are openly sobbing and peering over the edge of a chasm, and most seem to be absentmindedly wandering around. A woman is flying overhead on a magical broom as if it’s Samhain and he shakes his head in distaste. He yearns to shout that this isn’t a costume party so the crazy woman can fly back home, but he refrains. Witches aren’t real in his world and he doesn’t want to have to tend to someone with delusions while others are fighting for their lives. So many are wounded or tending to the wounded and Noah assumes the fatality count is in double digits. There isn’t anything around to slaughter like last time, not that it would do him any good, as he appears to be unarmed. He can be a field medic, he supposes, as he does have the training. He can’t possibly turn a blind eye to those in need, so he approaches the nearest tent and frowns when he sees Penelope Halifax sitting on a chair with her eyes closed. At first, he is about to accuse her of taking a break when chaos is erupting all around, but then it dawns on him that she’s in immense pain. Wordlessly, Noah slips closer to the woman and gently puts his hand atop her one that is struggling to locate a pair of shears. “Penelope… Allow me?” His expression is unreadable as his hazel eyes drift from her face to her left arm which is bent at a strange angle. It’s obviously broken and needs to be set. “I can set the bone and we can fashion a makeshift sling. Please... Let me help you so you can help others.” Noah knows it will hurt but he knows it’s the best course of action, especially should she wish to be of any use to the wounded.

Krice wasn't overly responsive to the cries surrounding him, not because he wasn't receptive, but because his own trauma (mental and physical) from the subterranean battle had flared his introversion; he was focused on maintaining his composure, as well as putting one foot ahead of the other. The terrain was uneven and he was injured so he stumbled, catching himself on a particularly jagged upward slab of the city before he could fall. He grimaced, but with his head consequently at a lower angle, he saw hands outstretched from the debris. The enigmatic swordsman huffed and moved closer, reaching out to lift the larger slab off the pocket in which they had been trapped, he gave them enough space to escape. Despite their trauma, two of them thought to thank him as they rushed out, one was in his own world, and a fourth had the presence of mind to notice that no single man should have been capable of lifting such heavy debris; they all had tried together to move it, but here was a stranger doing so on his own, relatively effortlessly. Once the three men and woman were clear, Krice let the slab drop and it cracked against other debris. He turned, brushing a healer who rushed past him to help someone she had seen from afar, and found himself staring across the expanse at a particularly beautiful but troubling sight. Talyara. It couldn't be an illusion because Xicotl was destroyed, but his mind would later recognize that her presence here was not surprising; if she could help, she would go against his wishes for her safety to do so. Before he could approach the woman, the warrior's eyes drooped and he sank to a knee, clearly exhausted. Pressing his uninjured left hand against his abdomen, he tried to stay his internal discomfort but he was unsuccessful. Doubling over, he wretched and coughed, blood splashing across the snow in front of him as those coughs gave way to nausea.

Talyara :: Somewhere in the midst of her helping as many people as she could, she caught sight of Noah, the misogynistic healer who was screaming about her and Penelope’s need for a chaperone the last time they had been together (and the first time they had met). And speaking of her fellow unsupervised healer…she saw her amongst the injured and momentarily considered intervening. Noah might be an ass, but he was an ass who knew how to heal so she decided against it. But then another thought occured to the witch, if Penelope was here then so must Krice! Panic shimmered in her emerald eyes as she weaved her way through the throngs of people–civilians and warriors and healers alike–to step outside of the tent and look frantically around. There were so many people it took a few minutes, but eventually she saw him, down on one knee, and coughing up blood. Taly unceremoniously pushed someone to the side and they protested with a gruff “hey!”. She apologized over her shoulder as she rushed to her warrior, dropping to kneel beside him, her hand pressing against his back. “Hey, can you hear me?” she asked in what she hoped was a calm voice but was most likely shaking with emotion. “Can you stand? I want to get you to the tent.”

Penelope finally found a pair of shears to clip the fabric. A hand rests over her own and she looks up to see… Oh, dear Sven. Normally she would have wanted anyone else, but Noah Atwood’s tone is one of concern. She blinks away a stray tear before she quickly pulls her hand away from him and uses the back of her palm to wipe it away. Noah was the last person she would want to see her cry, as he was normally crude in such situations. “Ruari and I fell into the crater. Inside we were blinded by… those illusions. Xicotl got to us and Ruari ended up breaking my arm.” Beat. “Cut the fabric,” on her sleeve. “You’ll get a better visual.” The druid is not ready for the pain to course through her, and once she hands him the scissors, she moves to find anything to bite down on to muffle her screams. In her satchel, she digs and finds a pestle. “Thank you.” She then gazes over his temple that is bleeding. He must have fallen victim to the quakes above. “You’re not dizzy, are you? Talk to me. About anything, Gram, you, your crazy patients, anything.” She would then place the pestle horizontally to bite down on. She inhales and closes her eyes as she tries to solely focus on his voice until the worst is over with this damned bone. Then, she can move to the other victims in the area.

Noah hates seeing a woman cry because the last image he has of his mother was one of her weeping as he was pulled from her arms at the age of fifteen. He clears his throat and cuts Nel’s shirt as she instructs, “I’m alright. It was a picture that fell and cut me.” He barely recognizes the fact that he’s bleeding as he looks at her arm with dread, “Pssh. You don’t want to hear me talk about my patients. That one that bit me last week? She came in yesterday and tried to chomp on my other arm!” He pulls over a small table and gently guides Nel’s broken arm onto it, “You should feel some pressure and there may be pain when I set it, but it should dissipate over time.” He offers her a weak smile and feels bad for what he has to do, because she doesn’t deserve this, especially since she’s here to help others. Noah has never struck a woman before and although he didn’t cause this injury he still feels a tad guilty for helping to mend it. “I want to scold you and tell you that you shouldn’t be parading around battlefields in the first place, but you didn’t follow my warning last week so I won’t waste my breath.” It’s his way to be a jerk even when he’s being nice, but he’s also trying to distract Nel from the pain. “I feel like I should have taken you and Ruari to a fencing class rather than dinner. The food -was- delicious though, and you have to make that pecan pie for Gram when your arm is better.” With surprising tenderness Noah leans over and trails his fingertips over her forearm, feeling for the broken pieces, and he applies force where it’s needed. The displaced bones are aligned and fall back into place as Noah makes sure that the extremity feels and works as it would have before the injury. Nel likely feels a crunching sensation as her bones are fused together and will think she can move her arm, but she’s warned, “Let’s put it in a makeshift sling for now, and you can put it in something stronger and visually appealing later.” A sterile white towel is plucked from one of the healer’s carts and he wraps it firmly around her forearm and applies another towel over that one, to afford it some stability. Next, he finds those medical scissors and makes two small circular holes on either end of the towels. Having little in the way of supplies, the man undoes his belt and mumbles beneath his breath, “There really should be a chaperone present…” The leather belt is wrapped around Penelope’s neck and looped through the holes in the towel. Noah tightens the cord a few notches and sincerely whispers, “If you ever want to talk about what happened, the illusions, anything… You know where to find me. I’ll be in the next tent, with my tighty whities hanging out as I tend to another.” The latter is said with a smirk.

Krice wretched again and more blood poured from his mouth. Between the open flaps of his collar, brushing was visible under his clavicle in the pores of his skin and along his veins, further indicating internal bleeding. As Talyara's hand found his back, he haphazardly tried to cover the expelled blood with clean snow, attempting perhaps to hide his scent from predators - even though he was only among allies. Blood dribbled over his bottom lip and he lifted his right hand to wipe the thumb side across his chin, burned side down, only then noticing that anyone was close - let alone the most important person in his life. His features once set in firm focus now dissolved into a frown of relief and distress. No one could know what he suffered during the battle underground, but it was clearly related to her. As healers and warriors and civilians moved around Frostmaw to help each other, some too traumatised to do much at all, Krice reached out to slide his left hand over whatever part of Talyara was closest, to keep her near as he trembled and breathed more quickly to cope with his injuries. Aware that she had asked if he could stand, Krice placed his uninjured hand on the ground and attempted to push to his feet, but it was fleeting; his elbow locked for just a second and then relaxed once he realized that it wasn't possible, eyes drooping shut under brows knit tightly with concentration. Though he had wanted Talyara to stay way out west at his cabin, he was glad to have her here now.

Penelope groans in laughter at the thought of that wicked patient biting the hard-headed man. Are the tears that are leaking from the image in her mind of a patient biting Noah, or is she still in pain? Both, most likely. Once he guides her arm over, she winces and clenches down into the pestle. He scolds her, and it was typical of the acquaintance of a man. Even though it was obnoxious, it was a much needed distraction. Familiarity of distracting a patient. Penelope knew it well, and in a way, it was nice in the moment. Fingers trace her skin and she grits down as he applies pressure and with each moment he feels on the break, she lets out a muffled cry and hunches. The tears, unfortunately, stream and it makes her uncomfortable, as well as the man before her, it seems. Her eyes are tight, and she tries to focus on his soft, judgemental words. A mixture of crying, pain, and laughter as it was comical that the man that despises her is setting her arm. The crunching sound and the grinding of her bone makes her feel ill, but she has to shake it, as she has to move on after he finishes the process. He makes a makeshift sling for her with his own belt, which with his comment, makes her take out the pestle and laugh through the aches. A very painful laugh. It was funny seeing him, especially after thinking he would be gone for good. The sling is secure, and the aches are still there. Her face is drying. She could really use some pain medicine right now, but she refrains. There is much more importance now. His next comment is meant with a snort at the tighty whities comment. She feels bad she could not contribute to much rebuttal, but she is thankful. Her face was tired and worn, but soft. “Thank you, Noah.” The first time she uses his first name. She then stands. Her arm feels strange. She then carries onto the wreckage where people are being pulled from the debris, and she continues like the little frontline healer she is. Fight through the dread. A child on a nearby medical cot has stopped breathing, and she moves in to start compressions with one arm.

Noah didn’t expect Penelope to thank him, but he’s pleased that he could make her laugh despite the obvious turmoil that has tainted these icy lands. She’s very pretty when she’s not insulting him, and when she speaks his name he finds that he’s stammering slightly, “It-It was no trouble, Penny. Just be careful moving it around. Those breaks take a few weeks to heal and you don’t want to make it worse.” Penelope departs and he moves to tend to the others, wanting very much to check closer to the chasm and see if anyone needs assistance in getting out but he finds himself being pulled in every other direction. A woman needs help limping over to a cot. A man asks for assistance in pulling his wife from beneath some rubble. Another man wants to throw arms and aims a fist at his face because he’s disoriented and confuses him for Xicotl. He’s sure that -several- women would have laughed at that if the situation weren’t so dire! The poor mercenary is now catering to a head wound and a black eye. Noah sighs and trudges through the snow and helps anyone that crosses his path and needs something that he can provide. Enough time passes and he finds himself exhausted from stress and the constant need to pull up his pants. Eventually, he winds his way through the crowd of people and comes to stand at Talyara’s side. He vaguely remembers her from the week prior and offers her a polite nod, but his attention is focused on Krice. The warrior lies on the cot and is in obvious distress as he’s coughing up blood. Internal bleeding. “I’m not trained in this type of healing, but I will help however I can.” Expectantly, he looks at Taly and waits for further instruction while he rests his palm on Krice’s shoulder, “You’re in good hands, Krice.”

Penelope works on the boy below her arm for a minute or two. She balances between compressions and a healer with the ability to bend lightning for the chest of the boy. Pumping anything to make the heart beat again. And it does! The boy takes a strong breath in, and Penelope pulls back. “Get ice on him. Cool his temperature down.” How could it go any lower in these circumstances of frost? She smiles down at the boy before other healers take over. “Check any neurological functions.” She moves to outside the tents where someone is stumbling around with a concussion of falling debris. She asks a few questions and lights a flame on a finger to check the person’s pupils before leading them to another cot. “Don’t fall asleep.” More victims scatter into the tent, and she cares where she can before she falls into an easier case of stitching a head wound. Her eyes shift through the sea of people where she finds Krice on a cot. His shirt is open. Purple spots. The tired woman tries to press further, as she knows that would be what the man would want her to do. Ruari, however, comes out of the depths. “Kailani,” he pauses. “She’s stable for now. That thrall got close to her heart. She lost a lot of blood. We do need to get her to a better environment. Down the mountain. I need to get a medical wyvern, but I also need you to come with me, as you know her better than I.”

Noah tries to hush Krice so that the warrior can focus on his own healing, rather that of others. “Everything is under control. You just take it easy.” Several warriors are running around barking orders and healers keep constantly arriving in droves, so there certainly isn’t a shortage of helping hands. He spares a glance to check on Penelope and sees her working to save a small child, and further down the line he sees Ruari standing next to a cot with a blue haired girl upon it. Noah snaps back to attention when Talyara asks him to help her move Krice upwards, and he gently eases an arm around the warrior’s shoulders and maneuvers him to a sitting forward position. The woman undresses her lover and Noah gives them privacy as he heads off to fetch two jars of salve from Taly’s stash. A broom is resting beside her bag and he freezes in place, wondering what the heck its’ doing in the healers tent of all places. Is it to sweep any snow from the tent? Perhaps it belonged to the delusional woman he had seen whizzing through the sky earlier? Noah plucks the jars of green and yellow goop and backtracks to Talyara, handing her the items and conspiratorially speaking in a low voice, “There’s a broom over there… By your belongings… You may want to check to make sure nothing was stolen. Earlier, I saw a woman flying over the wreckage as if she had cast an earthquake spell over the lands. I know witches don’t exist and superstitions are nonsense, but she probably has sticky fingers along with mental illness.” Noah shakes his head as if unsure what the realm is coming to, but he falls silent when Krice appears to lose consciousness. Without another word to Taly, he leaves her side to go and see if he can assist anyone else in need.

Krice may have been supremely out of sorts, but he was aware enough to realize that he was being fussed over. Maneuvered to sit, maneuvered to lie down, prodded - though by gentle, exploring fingers - and pressed. Surely there were others who needed more assistance? Granted, if anyone else was more injured than him, they likely wouldn't survive; certainly mere humans would not. Perhaps their time was indeed better served on someone who would. He was vaguely aware of the tent being busy beyond Talyara and Noah, and he caught a glimpse of Penelope as she passed from the child to Kailani. The warrior grimaced in pain despite his mental fortitude against such things, and shot a sharp look at Noah for his description of a broom-mounted, mentally ill kleptomaniac. " Get lost." His tone was harsher than he intended, and his issue wasn't with Noah as a person - just with the situation. He shivered, leaned in toward Talyara, and closed his eyes to rest to the familiarity of her scent and the warmth of her presence. Against his wishes, Krice's mind failed him and he succumbed to sleep, while a teenaged boy limped in with his injured mother. There were plenty of healers around, but also many victims; the boy's face was pale with concern and pain for his injured leg as he called, "Please, someone help us."

Penelope finished her last stitch before threading it through and clipping the end. She applies a salve before bandaging the wound. Her mental state is in full auto-pilot, as she cannot catch a glimpse anymore of anyone she knew around her… except Kailani, since Ruari stressed the importance. The Ardelian is off, tracking the apprentice who was… no longer an apprentice at this point. Ruari was a full on man. A full professional restorative healer. A nearby wyvern with a couple medics upon it linger and it seems that they have Kailani in tow. The blue-haired druid was unconscious and covered with bloody bandages. “She has mentioned in the past about Venturil. I believe that’s our next destination. Once we get her steady, we can go… home.” Kelay. Home. Rest. Normalcy throughout the chaos of the week. The medics that care for the beast help assist the Ardelian up on the dragon and she secures herself as she hovers with the blue-haired druid. Before she leaves, however, she takes her last look at the people scrambling. The people in need. She could have done more. Eyes settle on Krice, the dark-haired man with the internal injuries. A guilty face rests on her visage before she looks at Talyara. Krice was in good hands with the Kelvarian. Moss eyes then trace to Noah, and the wyvern lifts in flight. If he catches her solemn gaze, she would mouth a ‘thank you’. Not just for her arm, but for the people around him. The extra hand he gave today. The wyvern would then take off down the mountain going to its next location to get Kailani settled in a safer area.

Noah doesn’t understand the gruff demeanor of Krice as he was only trying to warn his lady about the repercussions of leaving her belongings unattended. For all he knows, that green sludge could have been tampered with, or maybe the sticky fingered witch stole something valuable. The psychiatrist doesn’t want to argue with the injured warrior and sums it up to the fact that he’s in tremendous pain. The brunette that tends to Krice and offers him the yellow salve is given a tired smile as he hadn’t been expecting to get himself treated. Noah heals three times faster than any human and is immortal, but no one in the lands knows that secret about his past. He pockets the jar and his eyes widen as the weight draws his pants down another inch, but he quickly tugs them up with a firm yank. He cuts off Taly along with the other healer that arrives at the same moment, “You are a wise woman, I know.” Noah comes upon a limping boy and his mother and he escorts them over to an empty cot, where he works to comfort the boy and learn more about his injury. The lads leg is covered in deep cuts and gashes, some of which have jagged pieces of rocks and glass in them. Noah has his hands full now as this particular case will take him several hours to remedy as there must be at least sixty separate cuts that need sutures. The mother holds onto the boy's hand and sings a haunting lullaby while Noah focuses on cleansing each wound. After a few moments, the man rises to get fresh bandages and he catches a glimpse of Penelope atop the back of a wyvern. She mouths either ‘thank you’ or ‘frack you’ but he’s pretty sure it’s the former, so he smiles and waves. Noah returns to his patient and works on closing the wounds, much like he hopes to close the chapter on bad things happening in Frostmaw. Hopefully, the city can be rebuilt and the lives restored. Either way, he feels that the group of people that he’s worked alongside on this day and a week prior, had all made a difference. And making a difference is a great feeling for those that consider themselves true warriors.