[WFRP] The Lord of Lost Heart (II)

[LCP]

Ithelus & Pieter

The doctor gave a watery smile.

"There you hit on it, I'm afraid. One can... surmise as to the means by which these things spread, but until one can pin a name to the disease, one cannot know for sure." He tilted his head softly to one side. "All one can do is make sure that those that are known to be sick are kept secluded."

He paused, the tip of his tongue running briefly over the inside of his teeth.

"I wonder if I could ask you, master elf, to remove your shirt."

[Exeson]

Ithelus's eyes narrow but there was no way out of it. Ithelus had talked himself into a corner.

You idiot. You should have killed him before.

With a grim nod he says, 'I guess I have to don't I?' and removes his shirt and coat, raising his arms for inspection. 'Look all you like, but if you so much as touch me doctor, I'll hurt you.'

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

I can. Illiiya said with a slight nod, holding up one hand as she chanted her spell as softly as she was able.

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Casting: (1d10)[7], (1d10)[1] Difficulty on the little ghost-lights spell is crazy low, so I should be ok.

Above her hand, a tiny blue wisp of fire came into being. It licked upwards without heat or noise, seeming softly buffeted by some gentle wind that could not be felt in the room itself. Amidst the soft, flickering glow of the light Illiiya caught sight of the mangled tips of her fingers and made a sour face.

Let us be cautious... She told him softly, And if a daemon should come, we flee... not fight. Yes?

[LCP]

Illiiya & Lothar

The blue flame cast long shadows from the clutter of the butcher's house, sending soft fingers of light into the darkest corners. Lothar thought he caught the movement of an insect scuttling into a hole in the wall, disturbed by the sudden light.

The sounds of movement had stopped. Illiiya had the image of someone silently waiting, listening for the sound of their voices...

---

1

Ithelus & Pieter

Under the elf's arm, the angry skin of his armpit was shot with red streaks, like infection radiating from a wound. In the centre of the inflammation, the skin had darkened to the colour of a bruise, and a black, lumpen swelling was just beginning to rear its head.

"Fascinating," breathed the doctor. "It seems... even the elder races are not immune."

Stepping back, he hastily placed the handkerchief once more over his nose and mouth.

"It is as I feared," he said. "For the safety of the village, the elf must be confined."

Pieter and Ithelus heard the ring of triumph in the doctor's voice as clear as day. Looking at the faces of the uneducated villagers, though, they could see the fear in their eyes.

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar nodded and placed his spare hand against his lips, the universal signal for quiet. He gestured upstairs and made a motion behind him.

Hand on Marius's sword, the soldier stepped toward the narrow staircase.

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I am going to attempt to be relatively quiet but (given chainmail and all) I'm not too upset at inevitable failure. (1d100)[95] ahahahaha

[LCP]

Lothar & Illiiya

Lothar's chainmail jingled loudly as he stepped on the first stair. From upstairs, a floorboard creaked. A second later, Lothar heard heavy footsteps on the floor above.

The black shape of the butcher appeared at the top of the narrow staircase. A fatty candle flickered in his right hand; in his left he was carrying a wooden pail of water and a brush with old, splayed bristles.

Illiiya raised her hand, and the bluish light of her spell cast Flycher's features into washed-out, colourless relief. There were dark stains all over his dirty apron, and jammed into the leather belt that ran round his belly was the dull iron head of an axe.

"You ain't supposed to be here" he said. His voice was a low growl, a dead monotone. He set the candle down next to the warped banister of the stairs, the beady eyes beneath his bushy brows resting only for a moment on Lothar's sword. He didn't seem afraid. "Get out."

[-Sentinel-]

"Fascinating," breathed the doctor. "It seems... even the elder races are not immune."

His city instincts kicking in, Pieter took a few steps away from the Elf before he knew what he was doing. Coughing and vomitting were one thing. Lumps and rashes were another.

He turned a cold gaze to Reifennen. "Not immune to what? I take it you know what this is?"

[LCP]

Pieter & Ithelus

Reifennen turned innocent eyes on Pieter.

"Why, the same contagion afflicting the rest of the village, Mr Hagen," he said, a model of patience. He pointed with one gloved hand towards the elf, now shivering all the harder without his shirt. "Observe this first bubo, and the discolouration of the surrounding skin."

He paused. "Of course, the elvish constitution is profoundly different to our own. Perhaps our elf friend will prove more resistant to the disease than the unfortunate Mr Hofstadter."

Reifennen sounded as if he would be genuinely fascinated to find out. He looked across at Pieter. "Mr Hagen, you and your friends have been staying at the inn, yes? Has anyone been sharing his quarters?"

[-Sentinel-]

"Mr Hagen, you and your friends have been staying at the inn, yes? Has anyone been sharing his quarters?"

"Not that I know of." Pieter's eyes narrowed. "He certainly hasn't gone delirious or vomitted blood like Mr Hofstadter. Can you give a name to this disease, assuming it's even the same?"

[LCP]

Pieter & Ithelus

Reifennen held a long silence.

"There is a name I could give it, Mr Hagen. But that name would give us no more power over it than we have now."

He cleared his throat.

"Hofstadter was clearly the first to succumb to the disease after Miss Faulebrand; the symptoms he exhibited towards the end may establish themselves with time. You say the innkeeper was expelling, mm, blood from his stomach?" Once again, Pieter caught the gleam of greedy interest in the doctor's eye, a little like Lothar when the soldier was reading Samtzunge's stolen book. "Such symptoms are often the first sign of the collapse of the spirits. With luck, those who, ah, survive this sickness may not exhibit them."

The villagers were nodding along, under the doctor's spell. Faulebrand was looking at him hard.

"I remember you giving it a name," the miller said, not seeming quite to believe the doctor's words. "Up in the crypt." There was an uncomfortable pause. "You said it was the Rot."

The other villagers blanched and made the sign of Shallya over their hearts. The Neiglish Rot was an unholy terror even to the most uneducated of peasants.

"I believe I did," said the doctor, quietly. "Pray that my suspicions are unfounded."

He raised his voice again, assuming the tone of an expert authority.

"Two cases within the walls of the inn. In my... professional opinion, I must recommend that the Heartless Man be marked and sealed, along with the other houses. The elf, Mrs Hofstadter and any who would care for them must be kept inside."

[Exeson]

Ithelus lowers his arms and puts his clothes back one in sullen silence. 'Very well Doctor, There's not much I can do.'

He looks at the villagers, 'I must take strength in the fact that I've been sick longer than the rest and yet I'm still here standing. Shall we return to the inn then?' By looking at him it was clear that the elf would need all the strength he could get.

[LCP]

Ithelus & Pieter

"Take care not to touch him," said Reifennen, as the villagers moved to shepherd Ithelus towards the door of the Heartless Man. "The contagion may be on his skin."

The peasants stopped in their tracks. Looking fearfully at each other, they did their best to usher Ithelus away without touching him.

"Mr Hagen," said the doctor, "perhaps you might be so good as to find some, ah, paint. Or chalk. For marking the doors, you see." He cleared his throat. "Mr Faulebrand, I would appreciate a word alone."

[goblinpaladin]

"Nah." Lothar met the butcher's eyes with his, and his voice was a raspy growl. "Where's your wife, butcher? What'd you do to those pies? You workin' for the doctor? Or is this a coincidence?"

[-Sentinel-]

'Shall we return to the inn then?' asked Ithelus.

"Go ahead. I'm keeping an eye on him."

Pieter was disturbed by the sole mention of the Neiglish Rot. He had heard of it, of course... Few, if any, were known to have survived it. According to rumors, Imperial procedure to cleanse a village from the Rot was to cordon off the area with archers and raze the place to the ground with war machines until even the rats were ashes. Of course, Reifennen may well be exploiting people's fears for his own ends; it was sure convenient for him to get Ithelus locked up.

"Mr Hagen," said the doctor, "perhaps you might be so good as to find some, ah, paint. Or chalk. For marking the doors, you see."

"That's a good idea." Pieter dug into his purse and handed a silver shilling to one of the two peasants. "See to it, if you please. Something that'll resist the rain, of course."

He voiced no objection to giving Mr Faulebrand and Reifennen some space to talk alone, but his stance made it clear that he was not leaving the doctor out of his sight.

[LCP]

Pieter

As the villagers trickled away, Reifennen tried to take the miller to one side. Faulebrand stood unmoving, like a rock in a stream - shooting an irritated glance at Pieter, the doctor lowered his voice to speak.

"Mr, ah... Mr Faulebrand, I was wondering about the state of your daughter."

Faulebrand stared at Reifennen, as if a suitably long glare might reveal to him every secret of the physician's soul.

"Worse." he said, clipping his sentence short. "But alive."

"That is... heartening to hear, sir, heartening to hear," said Reifennen, his unctuous manners returning in full flow. "That she has survived this long when the sickness took the innkeeper so quickly... that shows much promise."

He glanced sideways at Pieter, testing the silence.

"As you know, before I was, mm... incarcerated, I had begun a course of treatment for Alexa," he said, still keeping his voice quiet. "I still have some of the medicines I prepared... but I fear if the whole village were to know, they would demand that it be shared. There is barely enough for one patient, let alone a score." He gave a delicate cough. "Seeing as she has already felt the benefits of the beginning of the course, it would seem to me that Alexa was the natural choice to continue the treatment..."

---

1

Ithelus

The villagers hung back from Ithelus as they walked him back to the Heartless Man, afraid to touch his skin or breathe his breath. The heavy door of the inn opened and closed with a clunk of the iron latch, and Ithelus was left alone inside.

There was no sound of Hanna Hofstadter: perhaps she was resting. Outside, the rain hissed softly down into the earth, cloaking the night in grey water. Through the diamond-paned window, he could see the glitter of a candle-lit window across the crossroads, swimming in the distorting downpour. As far as his memory served him, it was coming from the Flychers' house.

---

1

Lothar & Illiiya

A low noise came from the butcher's throat. It sounded like the growl of a dog. Slowly, moving as if control came reluctantly to his limbs, he lowered the bucket of dirty water onto the buckled floorboards of the landing.

"Wertha's gone out," he said. "She ain't comin' back for a while."

He took a step down onto the stairs. One hand had strayed towards the handle of the axe wedged into his belt, touching it just below its dull iron head.

"I ain't goin' to tell you again."

[-Sentinel-]

What's he playing at now?

Pieter had already made his case against Reifennen time and again and had nothing more to say. He decided to leave that particular decision to Mr Faulebrand; it was his daughter after all. If the disease was truly the Neiglish Rot, chances were that Alexa was already doomed, unless the doctor had some miracle cure.

Had Reifennen ever wanted Alexa dead? According to his letter to Esther, he only planned to disfigure her, and the gods knew he had succeeded. Now, perhaps he hoped to regain trust by saving the girl's life. Let him do it. One way or another, steps would be taken to make Hohlesbruck the last place where he plied his vile work.

[LCP]

Pieter

Faulebrand scrutinised Reifennen's face, leaving the suggestion hanging.

"...You think you can cure her?"

Reifennen pounced on the question like a cat.

"It may still be possible."

"Try it, then."

Smiling broadly, Reifennen stepped towards the door of the house. He looked confused when Faulebrand's pudgy hand reached out to catch him by the wrist, stopping him before he could walk any further.

"Try it," repeated the miller. "Like Hagen said, before. Your medicine." He looked Reifennen in the eyes. "I want to see you try it."

All the self-satisified self-assurance melted out of the doctor's expression. He contorted his eyebrows in his best take on compassionate confusion.

"Mr Faulebrand, my supplies are limited. To waste even the smallest amount in dosing a healthy man..."

"People are saying you're a poisoner, Reifennen," said Faulebrand in a hard voice. It might have been the first time he'd not addressed the physician by his title. "I don't want to believe 'em. I've always prided myself on being a judge of character, and it would mean I put my daughter's life in danger because I judged you wrong." He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, puffing out his pidgeon chest. "There goes old Fool Faulebrand, they'd say. He brought this on us."

"I want to believe you can do it. I want to believe you can bring my Alexa back." In that moment, Pieter thought he could see the small, human man under the cracking layers of the miller's bluster. "But I'm not going to be fooled twice. Show me this medicine, and taste it."

Opening his mouth, the doctor hesitated, no words passing the exposed tips of his teeth. The rain drummed on the eaves overhead, dripping in heavy globs of water from the lip of the miller's roof. It was the only sound in the silence.

Reifennen flicked a sideways glance in Pieter's direction, and the Ranaldite thought he caught a flash of pure hatred in the mild old man's eyes. Stooping slowly, frailly to set down his black leather bag, he folded it open and produced one of the small phials of yellowish-white fluid that Pieter had seen when first they had searched the doctor's medicines. Perhaps it was just a trick of the lantern-light, but in the darkness the doctor's face seemed almost as pale as the contents of the phial.

He looked to Faulebrand as if waiting for him to change his mind, but the miller was as unmoving as a millstone. Closing his eyes briefly as if in prayer, he slowly unstoppered the phial and raised it to his lips.

Pieter saw the viscous liquid drain from its glass capsule, the way the doctor coughed and grimaced attesting to its unpleasant taste. Pocketing the empty phial, dabbed at his mouth with the handkerchief and took on a grave expression.

"If that will satisfy you," he said, sounding slightly hoarse, "I believe there is a life to save."

Aloysius' stony-face opposition collapsed, an expression of almost child-like hope dawning over his fat face. Turning decisively away from Pieter, Reifennen limped towards the door.

[Exeson]

Left all alone Ithelus finally let his exhaustion show. He had been afraid of making the villagers more fearful but now the door was closed he sank into a chair with a shudder. Resting his eyes for a short while he then began to move.

Take strength Ithelus. Tonight you try to kill a man.

Ithelus laid all his weapons on the table, checking each in turn, ensuring that they were all in working condition. He then moved over to an upstairs window and looked outside.

I wonder if they are watching?

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter was inwardly jubilant to see the doctor's composure finally slip. He half expected Reifennen to dodge the challenge at the risk of being sent back to his cell with heavier suspicions weighing on him, but no such luck.

A leap of faith, eh? You're hoping for your god to protect you...

He could almost admire this. Were he asked to wager his life in a game of dice and trust Ranald to give him sixes, he would likely try to weasel his way out.

It took a moment for realization to hit the initiate - he had been outmaneuvered and was now out of options. There was something terrible in that bottle, yet Reifennen had drunk it, and Mr Faulebrand, Judge of Character Extraordinaire, did not seem to have noticed the doctor's reluctance. Either that, or his wild hope for his daughter's life overruled his suspicion. What did Pieter have to say to that? All he had to work with was arguments he had already spoken, and any man, especially a desperate one, would sooner believe a bearer of good news.

He had thought it was in Reifennen's best interest to cure Alexa. Clearly, he had been wrong; whatever was in this bottle was not going to improve her condition. But did it still matter at this point? Could she still be saved, even if the doctor's "treatment" was stopped? He was tempted to say no, if only because he was tired of fighting and arguing.

"If that will satisfy you," he said, sounding slightly hoarse, "I believe there is a life to save."

Pieter had no answer to this. He made no move to keep the doctor from entering the house, but did follow him without asking for Faulebrand's permission, determined to see him back to his cell when it was over.

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I really have to stop writing these big introspective posts. They take me far too long.

Is the saddled horse still there, as far as I can see?

[goblinpaladin]

"She's not out," Lothar growled back. He didn't move. "An' you didn't answer my question."

[LCP]

Ithelus

As far as the elf could see through the dark curtains of falling rain, no-one was watching the inn. The two men who had walked with him to the door were hurrying away out of the weather, their bedraggled figures quickly receding into the night.

Moving from window to window, Ithelus ascertained what he could see. The Heartless Man was old, and its diamond-paned windows were narrow and crooked; nonetheless, it stood in almost the dead centre of the village, and so commanded a good view of its surroundings. Directly on the inn's east side, through the cracked glass of the kitchen window, he could see the big, brick-built bulk of Faulebrand's house; through the front window of the common hall, he could see the hovels across the street, and through a third window in the west wall he could see the ramshackle house of the Flycher's, slumping like an exhausted toad in the rain.

OOC:

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Didn't want to reply to your questions OOC because that'd mean I steal the spot for Chris' character sheet to go. Hope this has all the answers you need!

---

1

Pieter

Skulking in the deepest shadows of the roof where the rain could not touch it, Pieter could see Ricard's horse, still standing fully saddled.

Following the doctor inside, Pieter saw Ricard himself standing in the entrance hall. His face still seemed pale, dark rings under his eyes from the long night of standing sentry. Talberg looked up with a start as the three of them came in, nearly dropping what he had been holding - one of his fine cavalry pistols. He seemed to have been in the middle of loading it.

"What -" he began, trailing off as soon as he started. "What is he doing here?"

It took a moment for Pieter to be sure that Talberg was talking about Reifennen and not him.

"He has medicine," said Aloysius. "For Alexa."

Ricard blinked.

"Are you mad?"

"He tried it himself."

Ricard looked at Reifennen, then looked away. His frayed expression seemed to say he didn't have time for this.

"Fine," he said, a little abruptly. "I mean - good. You're her father. You do what's best."

Clapping one hand over the muzzle of his pistol to stop the powder and shot from falling out, he edged through a side-door and out of sight. There had been something curiously evasive about his manner.

"Miss Faulebrand is upstairs?" asked the doctor, full of respect for his host. Faulebrand nodded. "We haven't moved her."

Leaning heavily on his cane, Reifennen started up the stairs.

OOC:

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Can I get another Perception check please, at -10.

Is Pieter going to enter Alexa's room with Reifennen?

---

1

Lothar & Illiiya

"Don't reckon I will, either," rasped the butcher. He stepped one step further down.

"That wizard were in here before, pokin' his nose into my business. I tol' him then, if I saw his face in here again, I'd cut up that dog of his fer scraps." Slowly, he pulled the axe out of his belt, weighing it in his hand. He looked down at the iron head as if it held some strange fascination.

One moment, he was looking down at the implement in his hand - the next, without any kind of warning, he exploded into violent action. Barrelling down the stairs, he swung the axe up two-handed over his head, lunging towards Lothar with a bloodthirsty roar...

OOC:

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Initiative!

Bernhardt_Flycher - (1d10+40)[50]
Lothar_Fischer - (1d10+41)[49]
Illiiya_Jaelrae - (1d10+47)[57]

[Exeson]

After ensuring that no one was watching Ithelus took up a position at the window that gave him the best view of the Faulerbrand's house. Pulling out a couple of coins he practiced so slight of hands tricks, whiling away the time to see if the Doctor left.

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No worries, Ithelus will waiting until either someone returns to the inn if he sees the Doctor leaving.

[-Sentinel-]

I don't like it either, Pieter wanted to tell Talberg, but we have little to lose at this point. But already the pistolier was gone. The saddled horse started to make sense. Was Talberg taking the Bretonnian leave, and was it due to the knight being possibly Anhame? Great. Just great. One less competent fighter. Yet who was Pieter to judge him? Had Delberz not toughened him up, he would have been one of the first to flee.

The initiate followed the doctor all the way up to Alexa's room. He did not enter it, but kept the door wide open and tried to breathe through his mouth.

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Perception 47: (d100)[13]

Maybe I'm due for a Skill Mastery in Perception to celebrate my third successful check in a row in so little time...

[LCP]

Pieter

When the door to Alexa's room was opened, the smell was so thick that Pieter almost felt it would choke him. The room was heavy with the scent of rose-water and cloves, their strong perfume masking but failing to wholly consume the foetor that hung in the stale air. The rain beat glutinously against the outside of the shuttered window, a muffled rattle overlaying the slow sound of laboured breaths.

The room had been kept dark, perhaps to save its inmate's eyes from strain. Taking a deep breath through his handkerchief, the doctor stepped inside, setting down his bag and lighting a small candle.

By the light of the tiny flame, Pieter could make out an indistinct figure lying motionless beneath the sweat-mottled sheets of the bed, her back turned away from the door. Turning back to look at Pieter and Aloysius, the doctor nodded his head towards the miller.

"If you could close the door, sir?" he asked. "The warmth of the room should not be allowed to change."

Aloysius looked from the doctor to the figure on the bed, then sideways at Pieter.

"I'll watch over her," he said, at last. "You can go, Mr Hagen."

Stepping over the threshold, Faulebrand made to close the door.

OOC:

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Of the coats and cloaks hanging up in the entrance hall, Pieter notices there is an empty peg where one might expect to see Ricard's.

[-Sentinel-]

Pieter wondered why this stench was not present in the other houses he had visited tonight. Not even Mr Hofstadter, in his last hours, had smelled like that. Was it even the same disease? By now he was almost sure it was not. Alexa's was something slower, possibly nastier. How many more abominations did the doctor keep in his bottles?

He let Mr Faulebrand close the door, but said, his tone firm: "I'll see the doctor back to his cell when he's done."

[goblinpaladin]

Lothar opened his mouth to reply, something about the wizard's been et or a bitter jibe about dog meat and pies. His fatigue and wounds slowed his wits and he barely had time to blink his one eye as the axe came a-barrelling down. Soldier's instincts kicking in, the sword was in his hand before he closed his mouth.

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Well, having my sword in hand is a Free Action but I don't know if that occurs before or after the round begins as Herr Flycher beat me in initiative and I hadn't actually drawn the sword in roleplay time. Once the sword is in my hand, I'll grab my shield. If that requires a Half Action (because the Quick Draw is spent on the sword or I only get one Quick Draw a round; I forget your last ruling) then only the first of the two below attacks counts. Otherwise, Swift Attack, slashy-slash.

(1d100)[7] (1d100+5)[16] - hit, body.
(1d100)[29] (1d100+5)[92] - hit, right arm.

Gosh writing '+5' is fun for the damage roll.

Ah, nuts, I wrote 1d100 for the damage rolls. I am an idiot. I don't want to pip BA in the OOC thread so if you don't mind rolling damage for me that would be SUPER.

Alternatively, if we subtract 5 and then take the 'tens' die* as the to-wound then we would have:

6 wounds.
13 wounds.

Whichever is the most convenient or easiest or whatever.

*in a remarkable coincidence, either die would actually do; 11 and 88 were the d100 rolls.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Illiiya's face went from wary, to stern.

Do not TOUCH HIM! She shrieked out, her weary body immediately finding new strength to call out for her spells.

No tainted tree. No nip of daemons at the edges of her sight. Nothing to stop her from tearing this human in half... and she did dearly feel the need to vent.

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Magic. Freakin. DART. Then parry-mode.

Casting roll: (1d10)[4] and (1d10)[3]
Damage, if needed: (1d10+4)[5]

A parry, if needed: (1d100)[2]

The winds whipped for him sluggishly, merely rending the man's skin in light, cosmetic cuts. She had little time to worry if the winds themselves were languishing or if she had held herself back a bit too much, out of fear of drawing too deeply of the Dhar. Perhaps the sudden lash of the winds would give her assailant pause, but if not, she needed to be ready.

Illiiya gripped her short-blade tightly, waiting for her next clear shot.

[LCP]

Lothar & Illiiya

Flycher came crashing through the cold, bladed wind that flew from Illiiya's fingers like a rabid dog, the whites of his eyes flashing in the gloom. Swinging his axe with all his strength, he hacked down at Lothar. The soldier slipped to one side, letting the axe-head skid from his mail with a jingle of striking metal.

Before the Flycher could recover from the momentum of his blow, Marius' sword was in Lothar's hand, its sharp edge kissing the butcher's side...

OOC:

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Flycher makes a Charge Attack on Lothar. He has the high ground bonus thanks to the stairs.

(1d100)[49] - hit
(1d10+3)[6] - soaked by TB + mail armour (Lothar is wearing his mail, right?)

Dodge - (1d100)[44] - failed

On Quick Draw: it's in the text of the talent, you only get one free draw per round. As far as I read from your previous posts, Lothar had his hand on the handle of his sword, he didn't have it ready-drawn, so he still needs to spend a half action to get both sword and shield ready. Hope I've read that right.

Damage from Lothar's attack:
(1d10+5)[6]

2 wounds dealt. Combined with Illiiya's magic dart, that means that Flycher has taken 3 wounds so far.

So we're back at Illiiya's initiative step.

[BloodyAngel]

Illiiya Jaelrae

Cease or die where you stand!!! Illiiya cried out, the winds whipping about her in a flurry. I will not warn you again!!!

Cannot hold back. I won't lose him now!

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Magic. Freaking. DART.

I'd cast drop, but.... meh.

Casting: (1d10)[10]1d10[/roll]
Damage: (1d10+4)[14]

Aaaand the parry, if needed. (1d100)[82]

The winds responded to her fear, anger and frustration like they had not in some time, tearing into Flycher like the fangs of a dozen invisible beasts. Streaks of crimson marred his flesh as the razor's edge of things not entire there surged around him, tearing, ripping and rending flesh as they passed.

[LCP]

The axe was smashed from Flycher's hand by the force of the spell, bloody pieces of fingers following after it. Howling in pain, the butcher staggered back, clutching at the mangled wreck of his right hand. It was bleeding profusely, the blood seeping up between the fingers of his left like water from a spring.

Flycher's face was still dark with rage, but there was little he could do without his weapon. Still desperately trying to staunch the bleeding, he staggered back against the stairs.