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Post by john on Jul 27, 2008 0:57:35 GMT -5
John untenses, having almost backhanded her when she accused him of endangering lives. He just turns his back on her and watches the portal, knife in hand, still clad in only a thin cotton robe and a bloodied scowl.
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Post by Stix on Jul 27, 2008 1:22:01 GMT -5
(Been a busy couple days, insert this bit back in the 10 seconds the portal was open.  ) An enormous annelid head protrudes from the open gate, bellowing loudly and writhing about in search of something to feed its surely monstrous hunger.  The handful of patrons in the place bolt for the door in a blind panic while the deva lurches forward, bludgeoning the beast with his mace; the creature bellows yet again and retreats into the blackness, the portal closing behind it. ***** (And this, present time.) " It's doubtful they have the key," the deva strains to say. " With that beast on the other side...." He trails off, lolling his head to the left and groaning in pain as he looks over the enormous bite wound that has cost him so much blood so far. " They won't... get past it." A spasm of agony wracks the celestial's bulky frame. " We were probably just sport for them anyway." Closing his eyes and falling heavily to a seated position on the floor, the deva allows Wraith to minister his wounds. |
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Jul 27, 2008 2:03:31 GMT -5
[When the big worm appears]
All but lost to her fury, Wraith scarcely notices the disgusting thing erupt blindly from the eye of the portal. Only when the deva lunges forward, pushing it back from whence it came, does she realise what has happened. She shrinks away from the portal with a startled cry.
***
[current time]
[the following assumes the bite is on the chest or abdomen]
"Lie still, basher. Your wounds are deep." She instructs in soothing tones. It's almost hard to believe that the tiefling had flown into dizzying hysterics a few minutes before. Yet she had, and she felt so terrible inside. Nearsighted, she couldn't project herself beyond the situation as she saw it; so rattling her bonebox off at John without any real knowledge of his predicament.
What a fool she'd painted herself to be!
Cringing, Wraith binds the bite wound, stymieing the blood-flow, and ties off the compression bandage. Never before had she seen such a wound, except on a dead man, and then his viscera protruded from the wounds. Despite her efforts, blood continues to spurt from the gaping lesion, soaking through the dressings. Applying a firmer bandage and constant pressure, she murmurs;
"This will need healing magics for the internal damage - third house at least, or multiple applications of first and second house - sutures, bandaging and a comfrey poultice for the outer tissues; and three days bed rest." Explaining the course of treatment helps take her mind off the nagging guilt, but it doesn't relieve her of it entirely.
"I-I do apologise for rattling my mouth off like that." She whispers humbly, to both John and the deva. "I was... too hasty. I- had no knowledge of your predicament, and no right to be so judgemental. Please forgive me." She hangs her head in shame.
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Post by john on Jul 27, 2008 2:10:04 GMT -5
John just shrugs. It's immaterial to him. The annelid head he saw made him shudder. No good death, being devoured by that. Being cut down, that was one thing. That though.... Something else. He sits heavily, on a stool, then falls over, almost falling through it. His body reacting to blood loss and shock.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Jul 27, 2008 3:16:31 GMT -5
John just shrugs. It's immaterial to him. The annelid head he saw made him shudder. No good death, being devoured by that. Being cut down, that was one thing. That though.... Something else. He sits heavily, on a stool, then falls over, almost falling through it. His body reacting to blood loss and shock. Abandoning her place by the deva's side, Wraith rushes toward John, stumbling beneath his greater weight as she attempts to catch him, and lowers him to the floor. "Hadrian! Cutter, get over here! I need your help." She cries out, and immediately begins binding John's wounds; slapping down bandages over his ruined face, and applying tourniquets where needed. Desanguination, it had to be. This was an emergency. He was alive, although barely, and exhibited all the symptoms of shock due to haemorhaging. She was certain she could save the man's life, never minding what he would say to her upon recovery, but as for his face... she feared this was the realm of top-shelf magics, potent spells beyond her meagre ability. Healing [for first aid] [need 18 or lower][dice=20][rand=51644845846974725616111198426705387178282728498327876176032700173] |
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Post by hilathic on Jul 27, 2008 7:33:57 GMT -5
"Half the damned abyss!" He tries to kick over a table before realizing the tables here are damnably flimsy. "What kind of bolt-hole is this place anyway?" Wraith shrieks, her eyes blazing. "What... what do you think you're sodding doing, dragging them back here?" She demands, her voice rising to a high-pitched crescendo. Her vehement gaze swings from John to the Deva and back again. Jabbing a finger into the Taker's chest she hisses. "We're in Zero, a hiver dive, you twit, surrounded by Bleakniks who're about to be skinned alive. This is your problem, John, and now you've gone ahead and endangered innocent lives. What were you thinking?" Bordering on hysteria it took great force of will to pull herself together again, and assess the situation from a logical perspective. They must've come from the Abyss, hitched a ride through the nearest portal they could find. How could John possibly know he'd wind up here? Reining in her anger - arguing wasn't going to solve the situation - she takes a deep breath, and lets it out again. "Right! We take up a defensive position around the portal, try to push them back before they pour through; and hold our position until the Bleakniks escape, and the gate closes.
I might be mistaken, I've never had to deal with a situation like this before, but only a certain number can come through at the same time, right? And I doubt they're stupid enough to send their high-ups through first." She pauses. "Hadrian, assist me with the Deva. G'lfnak, John will need your help." Swinging a critical eye over the squat Coldblood she growls; "And don't even start telling me you don't want or need his help."[ooc: At this point, Wraith casts Protection from Evil on herself, and starts binding the Deva's wounds.] Healing [18 or lower]+1 With some shock in his voice, Hilathic addresses Wraith's hysteria, "You should not be so tough on John, he has help us greatly in the passed. The cage is no place for the weak of spirit, and those that can not take care of themselves. You know that, Uathach." Hilathic keeps patrons moving out the door as quickly as possible. "Plus I should be able to bluff most Abyssal fiends that come through that gate." Hilathic says matter of fact. |
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Post by exile on Jul 27, 2008 14:50:24 GMT -5
(OOC: Sorry about the lengthy delay, I was out of town much of this weekend and couldn’t access a computer.)
Hadrian had been slow to respond to the unfolding chaos, but the terror had passed almost as quickly as it had befallen them leaving only the bloodied and broken as testament.
“Out of my way, bashers!” he demanded, forcing through the terror struck patrons to kneel at the Deva’s side. Wraith’s triaging had been astute, the celestial’s wounds were dire (OOC: I assume?).
“All-Father,” he intoned, tearing off his gloves and laying his hands upon the paragon’s marble flesh. “I beseech your blessing; lend me Your strength in this time of need.”
A white light consumed the wounded angel momentarily before subsiding into his being. Rising from the Deva’s side, Hadrian strode over to where John was being attended to by Wraith.
“Please, sister” he instructed, gently urging her out of the way. The woman was a clever physician, but Hadrian’s method was by far the faster. “You’re going to end up owing me a lot of money one day, Taker” he muttered as he began to pray once more.
(ooc: Casting Repair Injury on the Deva’s gaping wound, roll to follow; Hadrian will make a judgment call for John, depending on the severity of his wounds which I will leave up to Stix since I don’t have a good sense of it from the description thus far: Cure Moderate wounds or Repair Injury as the situation requires. The roll in either case is the same.)
Deva
[dice=10+1]
John
[dice=10+1]
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Post by Stix on Jul 27, 2008 16:36:39 GMT -5
(Nothing like giant intestinal parasites to shake things up a bit. ) The deva's massive bite wound is curiously unaffected by Hadrian's spell. When the Bleaker lays hands on John, the bleeding is stanched and the Taker's full faculties come back to him. No flesh is regrown, however, and the wound seals leaving that portion of his face a ruin of exposed bone and soft tissue. Gradually, the wounded celestial pulls himself to his feet with the help of the nearest table, hunching over it. He unfurls his wings to inspect the lacerating wounds on them, wincing in pain. " I appreciate the effort," he says to Hadrian, " but magic will do nothing to these wounds... and from the --" He stops short, lurching further forward in agony. With belabored breath, the deva struggles to continue. " I've been poisoned... but my mission can't end here, or there will be grave consequences. ...I need your help, cutters." |
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Post by john on Jul 27, 2008 17:54:49 GMT -5
"Unfortunately I owe you my life. It is yours to spend. How may we complete your mission?"
John curses, realizing his gear is nowhere near here, at present. He's not exactly in the shape necessary to go out and complete some damn fool quest set to him by some dying aasimar.
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Post by TheGratefulNed on Jul 27, 2008 17:57:51 GMT -5
She opens her eyes - a blaze of silver and purple outlined by smoky khol - as the Cipher passes around the bottle. "What is this?" She inquires softly, waving the bottle beneath her nose, but doesn't take a sip of it just yet; not until she knows exactly what it is. The smell is strong and slightly acrid, there's a sort of ozone smell wafting from the distinctly high proof liquid. More noticeable than the scent, though, is the sloshing of the liquid inside the glass bottle; it seems somehow amplified, sounding more like an ocean than a half liter of spirits. " A whiskey from Acheron, brewed in Resounding Thunder - Lei Kung's realm." If you drink any of the potent liquor, you find your ears ringing slightly for a few seconds - almost as though there was just a loud thunderclap overhead. ------------- Gl'Fnak doesn't flinch and barely even looks at the portal until the commotion occurs after the bloodied aasimon and human stumble out of it. At the Taker's mention of fiends following, he stands promptly and heads toward the shimmering sheet of inter-planar energies. "...What were you thinking?" He shakes his head at the berating the Dustwoman was giving this John fellow. " Thinking is probably responsible for at least half of the mess to begin with," the tiefling comments aloud but to no one in particular. "Right! We take up a defensive position around the portal, try to push them back before they pour through; and hold our position until the Bleakniks escape, and the gate closes.
I might be mistaken, I've never had to deal with a situation like this before, but only a certain number can come through at the same time, right? And I doubt they're stupid enough to send their high-ups through first." She pauses. " Let the Bleakers react if they care to. Portal's're more a time concern than number, should be shutting soon," he says matter-of-factly. Even as he says this, his hand moves to rest on the pommel of the blade at his waist. The handful of patrons in the place bolt for the door in a blind panic while the deva lurches forward, bludgeoning the beast with his mace; the creature bellows yet again and retreats into the blackness, the portal closing behind it. The tiefling is raising one hand toward the portal when the annelid pops out. Leaping to the side, he attacks the monster alongside the deva, his sword slicing crisply through the air. The aasimon lands a solid blow and the overgrown worm head lurches back into the portal only a split second before Gl'Fnak's blade would have struck home. Watching the portal's energy dissipate, he lowers his hand and turns to survey the room. He listens intently as the upper planar being explains how they're probably away from whatever was pursuing the two battered bashers. Standing near the robed man, the Cipher braces the human's shoulder, slowing his fall to more of an unceremonious collapse. The tiefling watches with curiosity as Hadrian's magic seems to barely affect the damage the two sudden arrivals had suffered. He pays particular attention to the deva's wings when they're unfolded. He stops short, lurching further forward in agony. With belabored breath, the deva struggles to continue. " I've been poisoned... but my mission can't end here, or there will be grave consequences. ...I need your help, cutters." Arching his eyebrow, Gl'Fnak waits for the celestial to give more information. |
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Jul 27, 2008 17:59:29 GMT -5
Wraith stands aside, watching the Aasimar work with diligence and care. She didn't understand why though, but the sight of him taking over where she could not made her feel a little resentful. But, didn't she demand his assistance? And she knew him well enough to know that, like her, he would've assisted however he could without being asked. But why did everything have to end in money? Wraith shook her head. Hers was an irrational anger, one that had no place here, amongst the wounded. His ability was drawn from the Divine, hers from the obscure tomes of medical science. As for jink... Hadrian merely stated what was fact where the Taker was concerned. John would never accept anything for free; not even friends saving his life. Wraith sighs. Crisis averted, or so it seemed for that one brief moment. She returns to the celestial's side. His condition and his words troubled her, moreso because Hadrian's supplications hadn't affected him at all. Odd. Would this mean that her ministrations would be of little consequence? "Easy, cutter." Wraith chides in a motherly tone, laying a hand upon the Deva to help steady him before he falls. "You will have our assistance in this task, but first, you must rest, or your wounds will not heal." Sliding the heavy satchel off her shoulder, she unpacks the tools of her trade [ooc: I'm assuming at this point Wraith will have these]"My skills lie in the realm of science and anatomical texts, not faith and magic, so I may be able to help." She explains as she changes the dressings and cleans the wound. Glancing at his quivering wings she realised she hadn't treated those yet. She would have to rememdy that. Healing [need 18 or lower] [to clean, and suture the deva's wounds; and to identify/treat the poison. As an Anatomist this gives him a second saving throw with a +4 bonus, if applicable.] [dice=20] [ooc: I forgot to add that a benefit of Improved Healing grants an additional +2 bonus to her healing checks. ][rand=009085145185628973382014158245578668386077264976368677402124738146] |
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Post by Stix on Jul 27, 2008 18:19:16 GMT -5
"There's no time for that now," says the deva, staying Wraith with a weak wave of his hand. "I need you to bring me... to Elysium. Principality. I've dug up the dark on an Abyssal Lord... and I need to bring it home... before this does me in...."
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Post by hilathic on Jul 27, 2008 19:11:35 GMT -5
Hilathic's ears perk up, "Abyssal Lord?" Could it be anyone he knew? Could it be anyone he may need to protect? "Before you get us involved in an Abyssal Lords business, maybe you should tell us a bit more, Basher."
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Jul 27, 2008 19:30:27 GMT -5
" There's no time for that now," says the deva, staying Wraith with a weak wave of his hand. " I need you to bring me... to Elysium. Principality. I've dug up the dark on an Abyssal Lord... and I need to bring it home... before this does me in...." Wraith pleads. "It's against my ethics." She swallows hard and begins to pack her medicines away. No matter what she did, the Deva seemed bullheaded enough to exert himself to the point where his wounds would burst open again anyway. She'd just closed the case, securing the straps when the words Abyssal Lord, fell upon her with their full weight. Her heart lurches, and her stomach feels like it would leap into her mouth. For a moment she looks like she's about to swoon. "Abyssal Lord?" Wraith squeaks, stumbling away from the deva, and falls unceremoniously on her backside. Could this have anything to do with the Cult of Graz'zt? She wonders fearfully, and clamps her hand over her mouth. The words danced upon the tip of her tongue, threatening to burst out... [ooc: In this situation would her disadvantage, Compulsive Honesty, come into play?] |
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Post by TheGratefulNed on Jul 27, 2008 19:46:45 GMT -5
Looking between the two tieflings, Gl'Fnak inquires, "which of the Tanar'ri Lords did you pike off?"
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Post by hilathic on Jul 27, 2008 19:51:04 GMT -5
"It is alright Wraith, they are not here, you really should proceed with looking over our new friend here before he passes out from lack of blood." Knowing why Wraith suddenly fallen from shock and not wanting the Deva to leave the in before, Hilathic learned more information he decided common sense was the quickest way to keep Wraith on task and the Deva from killing himself.
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Post by hilathic on Jul 27, 2008 19:56:22 GMT -5
Looking between the two tieflings, Gl'Fnak inquires, " which of the Tanar'ri Lords did you pike off?" Hilathic giggles. "Neither. Wraith has had some trouble with a cult who believes her to be the heir of Graz'zt. And I also happen to have a connection to Graz'zt myself, though not a blood relation. It really is a long story and one I am sure, Wraith and I would like to explain fully to you another time." The longer he was around Wraith, the stronger he felt, and more comfortable with others. When he first arrived to Sigil he would not have dared so bold a truth, he would have cloaked the story in shadows and half truths. |
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Jul 27, 2008 19:56:39 GMT -5
Looking between the two tieflings, Gl'Fnak inquires, " which of the Tanar'ri Lords did you pike off?" Blanching again, like she's about to be sick, Wraith blurts out; "I think this might have something to do with the Cult of Graz'zt." She gasps, clutching her chest in pain, and turns away from Hilathic. Too late she'd exposed that terrible secret. What would he think of her now? Gasping again, struggling for breath, Wraith drags herself to her feet with the aid of a nearby table... and collapses against it instead. Turning around to face the accusing eyes of her friends, she whispers. "I'm not one hundred percent certain. There's been some very strange goings on in the Hive as of late - Abyssal Pertussis and ritualistic killings for a start - but... But this is my fear." Turning to Hilathic, she beseeches him for forgiveness with shamed eyes. [ooc: I'm not sure if it's appropriate for her to bring this up, but it fits her disadvantage  ] |
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Post by hilathic on Jul 27, 2008 20:01:55 GMT -5
Nodding to Wraith as they speak over each other, Hilathic continues, "Yes, what Wraith says is true. Many of the things they have done in the Hive we know they did to crush her will so she could be a puppet for their using. But Wraith will not be used as such!" The last part Hilathic says with a fury in his eyes. He was committed to never allow Wraith to be hurt by the Cult of Graz'zt again.
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Post by Uathach Blackmantle on Jul 27, 2008 20:16:12 GMT -5
Nodding to Wraith as they speak over each other, Hilathic continues, "Yes, what Wraith says is true. Many of the things they have done in the Hive we know they did to crush her will so she could be a puppet for their using. But Wraith will not be used as such!" The last part Hilathic says with a fury in his eyes. He was committed to never allow Wraith to be hurt by the Cult of Graz'zt again. Beginning to sob, Wraith laments; "Why must I carry His mantle?" Lurching away from the table, the exceedingly frail woman made it only a few feet before she trips over the hem of her dress, and crashes into Hilathic. "Why?" She wails, clinging to him with trembling fingers. "Why me? Why must I be His bastard spawn!" She cries, and for a moment she looks like she's about to stamp her foot on the floor in a childish fit of despair. "It's not fair, Hal. It's not fair." |
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