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Of Fire and Swords [M] [Archive]

Started by DragonSong, January 02, 2016, 03:41:56 PM

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DragonSong

Ren snorted. "And good riddance," he huffed. Wincing slightly, he turned to face Mist.

The elf seemed to have sustained several serious, he might go so far as to say fatal, wounds, but was somehow still upright. "You alright then?" he asked gruffly, tilting his head to the side.

Medievarad

Mist pulled the blade from the corpse as he slumped down to the floor, still sitting upstraight. His hands quivering and blood flowing richly down his abdomen. He grew pale, blood more blood running from his mouth. The pain becoming real. He smirked bitterly and disgusted as he started to pull the arrows out one by one. His mind slowly dirfting out of conciousness.

After having removed four of the arrows. Two of wich actually got through the armor, he dropped backwards against the floor. His breathing slow and erratic.

DragonSong

"Oh, storms and crows," Ren cursed. His head darted forward and he sniffed at the elf, then nudged him slightly with his nose.

"Oi, Immortalis. Mist? Can you hear me?"

Medievarad

The elf coughed loudly in response. "These arrows.." He stammered as he clenched his hand around one. "Help.. Pulling them out.." He was too weak to pull the others out. At least four were still hurting him. And the wounds would bleed a lot if pulled out. But. If they remained pierced through his chest, he'd die any way.

DragonSong

"Ah- alright." Carefully, he reached forward with two claws and used the tips to grab the shaft of one arrow and yanked it out. Huh. Okay, that seemed to work. He set about extracting the others as carefully as he could.

"I'm not sure about this, but I believe it's best if you try to remain conscious," he said as he worked. Falling asleep in such a situation was bad for two-leggers, right? Or was that head wounds?

Medievarad

"Heh.." Was the only thing he replied as all the arrows were pulled out, from his armour and chest. He  pulled himself up with the help of the ridicoulously large blade, tearing off the bandages from the hilt. "It's just a flesh wound.." He murmured to himself as weakly yanked the chainmail off, pressing the cloth against the bloody wounds.

DragonSong

Ren tilted his head. "I understand that you two-legger males often feel the need to posture, but that is decidedly more than a "flesh wound". We should bring you to a real healer, someone who can help you."

Unfortunately, he wasn't quite sure how to go about doing that.

Medievarad

"You have one around..?" He asked, slumping to his knees with a pained hiss, dropping the bandages again and leaning forward, blood trickling down.

DragonSong

"Not exactly," he rumbled, "but even some tiny village's witchdoctor will do at this point." He darted his head foreward to support the elf.

"Can you climb on my back?" he asked. "I could carry you in my claws, but I don't think that'd be very good for your wounds."

Part of him couldn't even believe he was offering this- but he owed Mist for helping him, and he could respect his power in battle. He would think of it as a favor, a one time thing.

Medievarad

"I.. Can't.." Mist chuckled bitterly, before coughing up more blood, his grip returning to the hilt of the sword.

DragonSong

"First fires," Ren grumbled. "Alright. Sorry about this, it's probably going to hurt." Without wasting further words, he reached out and closed his claws around the elf's midsection, as carefully as he could.

Reading back into his hind legs, he bunched the muscles in his legs and wings and took to the air with a mighty leap, flapping desperately to get them airborne. Taking off from a standstill was never easy, particularly with the obstacle of trees in his way.

But he managed, getting them into the air and circling breifly, trying decide which direction would bring them to a human settlement the fastest.

Medievarad

"Had.. Worse.." Was what he groaned out before he was picked up by the enourmous creature. Hissing in pain silently. Yet a sharp pain shot through his chest as the dragon reared up and toon flight. The force exerted was very painfuk. Announced by a pained cry.

Yet he slumped down in the dragon's claws. His grup unrelenting on the sword. His grip unrelenting.

DragonSong

Ren winced slightly, muttering, "Sorry." He banked into the wind, deciding northeast was probably his best bet. "Try to stay conscious, would you?" he rumbled, glancing down at his passenger- well, more like cargo, with the way he was carrying him.

Medievarad

It seemed Ren was too late to say that. The elf had fainted in the beast's claws. His head slumped down weakly. His body following every movement like a flacid, frail puppet. Yet his grip on the enourmous, cursed blade didn't loosen at all.

DragonSong

Ren swore, colorfully, and flew faster. Why oh why did they have to be in the middle of a jungle when this happened? What were his chances of finding a village- or any sort of settlement- out here? This was next to hopeless-

"Dragon!"

He snorted in surprise and looked down at the alarmed cry, realizing it came from what appeared to be a small human child standing in the middle of a rather large clearing in the trees. A clearing with a scattering of houses.

It would do. He came in for a screeching landing, awkward as he tried to keep Mist off the ground, bending his foreleg against his chest. "He needs a healer," he rumbled to the shocked child and woman- she assumed his mother- who had come to collect him.

To their credit, the humans recovered quickly. The woman nodded and took off into one of the houses, dragging her son with her.

Ren huffed out a puff of smoke and laid his passenger on the ground as gently as he could, poking him delicately with a claw. "Hey. You still alive, Immortalis?"

Medievarad

His eyes were closed. A trickle of blood running down his lip. Yet he seemed at peace. His chest slowly rising and falling. He was still breathing but had lost a lot of blood. He didn't respond to the dragon's inquiries because he just couldn't answer.

DragonSong

The dragon moved to poke him again, starting to get really worried, but suddenly the humans returned, a shriveled looking elder in tow.

"Move aside, let me see," the old...person- he honestly couldn't discern gender the figure was so bent and wrinkled- said sharply, kneeling at his wounded companion's side. "How did this happen?" she or he asked.

Ren explained as quickly as he could, settling down and offering a quick bark of pain as his own wounds protested. The healer looked at him, head tilted, but he shook his head. "Look after the elf, I can manage."

Medievarad

Yet. The old.. Human also seemed to arch quite an eyebrow at the blade the elf still was clutching. The eye wide open and darting around in a frenzied manner. Some of the villagers slowly put him down on a makeshift carrier under the command of the healer. Taken away in one of the biggest houses.

The child that earlier announced Ren's presence looked up at him with an awed and dumbfound look.

DragonSong

Ren shifted uncomfortably, not really liking the attention. And the elder-healer had seemed taken aback by something about Mist, though he wasn't sure what, so that put him further on edge.

His first reflex was to take to the air. He'd brought the elf to help, there was really nothing more he could do here. But he found himself unwilling to leave without knowing he had recovered. Snarling grouchily at the child, he hefted his bulk closer to the house the humans had taken Mist to, trying to get a look inside.

Medievarad

The dragon managed to gaze inside.

Mist was ontop of a bloody table, armor and sword stripped from him. The wounds he had sustained were apperent. And could be lethal to anyone. The elf was still unconcious, yet his wounds were being healed, desinfected and bandaged with great care.

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