[Acro] GLoG 48: From the Ashes

[Je dit Viola]

Mirror? Huh? I don't think I need one right now, but thanks.

(...random locations? Umm....thinking...)

[Neon Knight]

((Deadtime for me.))

[Recaiden]

Yes you do. Besides, you might need one for yourself later.

((Would you like to post there? Or we could assume they get back to town. I hadn't planned for anything else to happen.))

[Je dit Viola]

Ummm...okay. If you say so. she says, accepting the mirror.

(Back to Town, then)

[Recaiden]

I do. What brings you here. Are you part of the League? Ashna asks with a smile.

[Je dit Viola]

Yes, I am. I have been, for a little while, she says. She's smiling. Pearly white teeth.

[Recaiden]

That's good. What's your name? I'm Ashna.

((And deadtime.))

[Je dit Viola]

Helen, says her. Nice to meet you.

(Bye!)

[Ashen Lilies]

*beep beep beep beep beep*

Member in danger at the Glass Citadel! Oh noes!

[Ashen Lilies]

[The Infirmary... If it exists.]

A badly wounded Phoenix is *pop*ed here.
He's a good looking human, with tanned skin (pale from bloodloss), reddish hair, and pink-orange eyes (closed). He's wearing a bard-ish, rogue-ish, royal sort of outfit, though it's looking decidedly worse for wear. There's a harness for a sword and shield, as well as a dagger in his boot, and a longer one on at his hip. The shield is missing. As for wounds, he's been shot twice in the right shoulder, once in the left hip, though both those wounds have been healed (badly). He's got three jagged stab wounds along his left side, ranging from his chest to his thigh. These have not been healed. His legs, especially his left leg, are badly wounded, having taken a shotgun blast at point blank range. Also, his left arm is fractured, due to improper use of a shield.
Healing may meet complications, considering he's still got bullets and shards of glass stuck in him.

[happyturtle]

Right now, the infirmary is just one corner of the main lodge, with two non-bunk beds and a table with first aid supplies.

Charity 's at Phoenix's appearance, and rushes over to start treating him. Not that she's a healer, but she can at least remove glass and clean wounds, while calling her sister and begging her to send some medically skilled Magbots.

((deadtime for some hours))

[Ashen Lilies]

She'll be able to clean up the wounds, and stuff like that. Remove glass shards as well. Removing the glass slivers from the stab wounds, as well as removing bullets, probably calls for the attention of a trained professional.

[Kaelaroth]

Atticus, distracted from various antics and activities due to snow-fighting with Avatar, eventually now notices the arriving Phoenix, and despite his better nature, creeps into the infirmary, to peer at him with wide, worried, feline eyes. You OK? He calls out, quietly, worried, flakes of snow whirling around his hands in agitation.

[Ashen Lilies]

Of course he is. Absolutely dandy.
Phoenix doesn't answer. You wouldn't really expect him to. Only the slow rise and fall of his chest indicates that he isn't dead. He looks like he's stepped on a landmine or something.

[Kaelaroth]

No reply!
How dare you insult Atticus by refusing to answer him!
REVENGE SHALL BE HAD!
.. Once he's tried to heal you!

In he creeps to the infirmary proper, whispering words of vaguely druidic healing mantras under his breath, sparks of healing effects splintering off his catlike eyes, to dance across the air to try and fall on and fix Phoenix.

[Ashen Lilies]

The stab wounds are healed easily enough, little slivers of glass being pushed out by the rapidly regenerating flesh. His arm is similarly fixed. It was a small fracture, anyway. Also, some color returns to him, as his blood is (presumably) replenished. However, the other wounds are proving more problematic. The shotgun wounds, because of how ****ed up the flesh and bone are, and the revolver wounds because of the previous attempt of healing.
...
In fact, the revolver wounds are probably not gonna heal, ever. He'll need surgery to remove the bullets, but there's still going to be those big wads of scar tissue and malformed bone. The shoulder especially, is probably going to be awkward. Poor Phoenix. 21, and already a permanent disability. Not even counting the fact that leg will probably need to be amputated or something horrible like that.

[Kaelaroth]

Atticus pads a tad closer. Is broken-man breathing better? Eyes all-fluttery?

[Ashen Lilies]

I guess. He's still out though. Probably sleeping. He did go through like, a berserker rage thing. People are usually tired after those, right?

[Kaelaroth]

Neither Atticus, nor his player, have ever had a berserker rage, and so don't really know. Atticus, because he's unsure of what to do, busies himself with making sure all the wounds are clean, or not bleeding heavily, in a time-honoured magicless fashion. Yay basic halfling druidic first aid!

[Ashen Lilies]

Wounds are cleaned! Insert montages where appropriate! It's healer-riffic!

[Kaelaroth]

Post-montage, Atticus wonders where all those geese carrying set changes came from, and, having quietly shooed them out the infirmary, curls up catlike at the foot of Phoenix's bed.
Sleepytimes.
((And deadtimes for the player.))

[The Bushranger]

Brendan wakes up on a cot in the main room, sitting up and stretching.

[happyturtle]

Sunny steps through a portal with two MedMagBots, who probably decide that Phoenix should be evacuated to the MagFirmary for surgery. Each of them takes one end of the cot to carry their patient back to the AuxMagCave.

They'll step back through the portal unless someone stops them.

[Piggyebil]

Koyuki sighs, observing the camp. She walked towards a building, wondering what it could hold.

[Falgorn]

Koyuki might see the stone-like man with the amazing hair.
Or, she might not.

[Rebonack]

I'm just a poor boy,
I need no sympathy.
Because I'm easy come,
Easy go,
Little high,
Little low,
Anyway the wind blows,
Doesn't really matter to me...

...

Ahem.

Reed glances around. "Hm. I keep needing a name to give people. I told one person to call me 30-Year Reed. Another to call my Empty Bottle. I'll tell you to call me 30-Year Pine, or one of the other two."

"Can I just call you Reed? That sounds approximately like a person's name to me," the fox replies with a bit of a snicker. "Why so many monikers, though? Just like the variety?"

[Neon Knight]

Reed shrugs. "Just to keep things interesting, I suppose."

[Rebonack]

The fox begins scratching his ear with his hind foot at this point. "Yeah, I guess that would certainly keep things interesting. But I imagine it would make it a bit harder to keep track of people talking to you, too. How would you remember which name to respond to?"

He quirks his head off to the side a bit. "So where did you blow in from, anyway?"

[Neon Knight]

Reed just smirks. "Most of the time, I'm too drunk to respond anyway."

"As to where I came from?" Reed pauses, looks down at his bottle, takes a sniff from it, then taps it lightly against his head. "Judging by the smell of this, somewhere with elves good at winemaking who don't mind using dwarven bottles."

[Rebonack]

"That would certainly explain the empty bottle name," Avatar observes, nodding slowly. A mischievous grin shortly follows. "Sounds like a pretty fine place to blow in from. So... aside from getting sloshed and drifting about what do you do? Gotta get money to pay for fine elven wine somehow."