"Stun him!" A rough voice yelled out, the desperation breaking past any of the former bravado shown by said warrior. Sparks flew as another wave of slashes and cuts slammed against his shield, pushing even one with suck a hulking frame like him backwards. Feet scraping against the soil he persevered, kicking up dirt and pebbles at each step, staining it all in a deep crimson as blood poured from the cut on his side. Against all logic an axe stuck out of the iron plated armor donned by the fighter, or what remained of it. The weapon's head slammed into it like a blacksmith's hammer did during the forging process, shattering it apart akin to any other poorly heat treated hunk of metal- sending splinters and entire chunks sprawling into the wind.
Blood gushed out endlessly, it was far too late for anything to do even if he was able to reach the man.
"Hng… A-aeron" The young healer's sapphire orbs moved back onto his current patient's wound, a stab into the trachea courtesy of a jagged dagger, dragged downwards for good measure. The elf's hands desperately clutched at his, trying to aid in applying pressure while the miracle was cast. The telltale feeling of ice pouring through Aeron's veins had never been stronger, power surged from his fingertips like a flood trying to fill the wound as if it was an emptied out lake. Her beautiful sun kissed hair stuck out at odd angles, no smile graced her tender lips, only wine like blood, a shade so light he hoped it wasn't real.
Limelight shone brightly between them, but to no avail. Every nerve, every cell he tried to work felt haggard, faded, unwilling to wake up and cooperate with him. But that was impossible, there wasn't any way he couldn't heal a stab… How many times had he closed up cuts from swords, alleviated burn from miracle fires? Hundreds, thousands.
So why couldn't he heal this one damned cut?!
"...Hold on." His voice called out to the mage, oblivious to the screams of his other companion. Tears brimmed to the surface, his light growing tenfold in strength, filling the clearing akin to a burning fire. "Hold on! I need but a moment, just a little more!"
There was no answer. Aeron cursed and pushed his cheek up against the elf's lips, awaiting for a scream to pull away. For a cutting remark or tease about how easily he believed her to be killed. One moment stretched into eternity as he felt none of those.
Not even a breath.
/No…/
Sapphire orbs stared into magenta ones once Aeron pulled his head back. They looked skyward, perceiving something he could not.
"GHNNNN!" Aeron's head remained bowed. There was no mistaking that sound, nor the whine like sound the sword made as it was drawn out of the warrior's body. He didn't need to look up to know the silver blade was painted a deep red. Just like his companions' bodies, sprawled out across the clearing, just like the color which he long grew to dread.
Just like his stained hands.
/T-this is but a dream… a nightmare…/
"Guess that leaves one more." A feminine voice spoke in the silence, her blade whipping through the air before resting its frosty edge against the blonde's neck. Red. It too was that fucking color. "Makes sense it'd be the miracle worker, never saw the point of having your kind around. I'll promise to make this quick, like that you shall not be feeling useless for so long."
"Useless?"
"Oh, still have the spirit to talk? How about healing my wounds instead of sulking in the dirt, little boy." A rambunctious laughter shook Aeron to the core, breaking him out his catatonic stupor. She was tall, built akin to a tree stump with skin the shade of oak bark, lacking any wounds or sweat on her brow, only a smile graced her face. The armor donned was nothing but a iron breastplate hidden underneath a fur coat, it together with the accent made her out to be nordic. "I'll pay you more than these little adventurers ever held in their hands."
Red hair fell on either side of her head.
/…Pardon me, father. For I am about to sully your teachings in a way that'd make mother jealous./
With a long sigh to steady his heart Aeron looked at the woman dead on, weathering the smile with a deadpan look. Her mouth moved to speak, to gloat once more, but in that moment that dreaded color lit up in the miracle worker's eyes, and a cough shook the entirety of the nord's frame forward. Glancing around in confusion, her attention settled on the open palm she used to cover her mouth, blue orbs widening at the sight of blood- it did not stop at one cough however. Another, and then another that would've made one think someone scraped the insides of her throat with sandpaper took the woman backwards. Each step followed by more pained groans in between breaths, until her knees hit the dirt.
"W-wh-"
"Have you ever considered what happens when an artery connected to the lungs gets affected?" Aeron pushed off the forest floor, slipping another orefruit inside his mouth to regain the mana lost so far. It tasted bitter, like dried metal. The woman's answer came as a long rasp and clumsy swing, one easily kicked away, her weak hand sending the blade aside. All of a sudden she grabbed her throat, hammering at it, the skin around the lips growing a faded shade of blue.
"It leads to a lack of oxygen, fatal as I imagine even your northern taught mind understands. But so is a sword through the 6th and 7th rib, as you've impaired onto Awelyn." Aeron grabbed her by the chin, allowing for his red eyes to stare directly into hers. The terror in them was blatant, yet it felt so warranted, so right to be present. "Sore throat, very negligible, if it isn't caused by muscle stress which I'm told hurts like a whoreson… So did it hurt Camille when you stabbed her and cut into the jugular."
Sitting up he let go of her chin. Harald had fought bravely, his body was run through with both an axe and greatsword, pinning it into a rock. Mouth open, eyes frosted over… he looked oddly at peace. Could it have been different they all would have deserved to walk away, return to those they held close, of which Aeron has none. Or rather, not anymore, since it was a mistake to believe this group would be any different.
"Two stabs to the stomach… Many are the causes for pain in that area." He grabbed the axe's wooden handle, glancing back at the nord with a bored expression even as she pathetically attempted to scurry away. Neither her arms or legs could carry all that weight, not when her entire body worked purely off adrenaline at this point.
"I'll need to use a scalpel and make sure I get the right one."
AceShadeheart t1_j48k3l9 wrote
Reply to [WP] In this world healers, while respected, are often looked down upon due to their limited offensive capabilities. One day your party is completely wiped out, and the world finds out just how dangerous knowledge of human anatomy can be. by Useless_homosapien
/This isn't happening./
"Stun him!" A rough voice yelled out, the desperation breaking past any of the former bravado shown by said warrior. Sparks flew as another wave of slashes and cuts slammed against his shield, pushing even one with suck a hulking frame like him backwards. Feet scraping against the soil he persevered, kicking up dirt and pebbles at each step, staining it all in a deep crimson as blood poured from the cut on his side. Against all logic an axe stuck out of the iron plated armor donned by the fighter, or what remained of it. The weapon's head slammed into it like a blacksmith's hammer did during the forging process, shattering it apart akin to any other poorly heat treated hunk of metal- sending splinters and entire chunks sprawling into the wind.
Blood gushed out endlessly, it was far too late for anything to do even if he was able to reach the man.
"Hng… A-aeron" The young healer's sapphire orbs moved back onto his current patient's wound, a stab into the trachea courtesy of a jagged dagger, dragged downwards for good measure. The elf's hands desperately clutched at his, trying to aid in applying pressure while the miracle was cast. The telltale feeling of ice pouring through Aeron's veins had never been stronger, power surged from his fingertips like a flood trying to fill the wound as if it was an emptied out lake. Her beautiful sun kissed hair stuck out at odd angles, no smile graced her tender lips, only wine like blood, a shade so light he hoped it wasn't real.
Limelight shone brightly between them, but to no avail. Every nerve, every cell he tried to work felt haggard, faded, unwilling to wake up and cooperate with him. But that was impossible, there wasn't any way he couldn't heal a stab… How many times had he closed up cuts from swords, alleviated burn from miracle fires? Hundreds, thousands.
So why couldn't he heal this one damned cut?!
"...Hold on." His voice called out to the mage, oblivious to the screams of his other companion. Tears brimmed to the surface, his light growing tenfold in strength, filling the clearing akin to a burning fire. "Hold on! I need but a moment, just a little more!"
There was no answer. Aeron cursed and pushed his cheek up against the elf's lips, awaiting for a scream to pull away. For a cutting remark or tease about how easily he believed her to be killed. One moment stretched into eternity as he felt none of those.
Not even a breath.
/No…/
Sapphire orbs stared into magenta ones once Aeron pulled his head back. They looked skyward, perceiving something he could not.
"GHNNNN!" Aeron's head remained bowed. There was no mistaking that sound, nor the whine like sound the sword made as it was drawn out of the warrior's body. He didn't need to look up to know the silver blade was painted a deep red. Just like his companions' bodies, sprawled out across the clearing, just like the color which he long grew to dread.
Just like his stained hands.
/T-this is but a dream… a nightmare…/
"Guess that leaves one more." A feminine voice spoke in the silence, her blade whipping through the air before resting its frosty edge against the blonde's neck. Red. It too was that fucking color. "Makes sense it'd be the miracle worker, never saw the point of having your kind around. I'll promise to make this quick, like that you shall not be feeling useless for so long."
"Useless?"
"Oh, still have the spirit to talk? How about healing my wounds instead of sulking in the dirt, little boy." A rambunctious laughter shook Aeron to the core, breaking him out his catatonic stupor. She was tall, built akin to a tree stump with skin the shade of oak bark, lacking any wounds or sweat on her brow, only a smile graced her face. The armor donned was nothing but a iron breastplate hidden underneath a fur coat, it together with the accent made her out to be nordic. "I'll pay you more than these little adventurers ever held in their hands."
Red hair fell on either side of her head.
/…Pardon me, father. For I am about to sully your teachings in a way that'd make mother jealous./
With a long sigh to steady his heart Aeron looked at the woman dead on, weathering the smile with a deadpan look. Her mouth moved to speak, to gloat once more, but in that moment that dreaded color lit up in the miracle worker's eyes, and a cough shook the entirety of the nord's frame forward. Glancing around in confusion, her attention settled on the open palm she used to cover her mouth, blue orbs widening at the sight of blood- it did not stop at one cough however. Another, and then another that would've made one think someone scraped the insides of her throat with sandpaper took the woman backwards. Each step followed by more pained groans in between breaths, until her knees hit the dirt.
"W-wh-"
"Have you ever considered what happens when an artery connected to the lungs gets affected?" Aeron pushed off the forest floor, slipping another orefruit inside his mouth to regain the mana lost so far. It tasted bitter, like dried metal. The woman's answer came as a long rasp and clumsy swing, one easily kicked away, her weak hand sending the blade aside. All of a sudden she grabbed her throat, hammering at it, the skin around the lips growing a faded shade of blue.
"It leads to a lack of oxygen, fatal as I imagine even your northern taught mind understands. But so is a sword through the 6th and 7th rib, as you've impaired onto Awelyn." Aeron grabbed her by the chin, allowing for his red eyes to stare directly into hers. The terror in them was blatant, yet it felt so warranted, so right to be present. "Sore throat, very negligible, if it isn't caused by muscle stress which I'm told hurts like a whoreson… So did it hurt Camille when you stabbed her and cut into the jugular."
Sitting up he let go of her chin. Harald had fought bravely, his body was run through with both an axe and greatsword, pinning it into a rock. Mouth open, eyes frosted over… he looked oddly at peace. Could it have been different they all would have deserved to walk away, return to those they held close, of which Aeron has none. Or rather, not anymore, since it was a mistake to believe this group would be any different.
"Two stabs to the stomach… Many are the causes for pain in that area." He grabbed the axe's wooden handle, glancing back at the nord with a bored expression even as she pathetically attempted to scurry away. Neither her arms or legs could carry all that weight, not when her entire body worked purely off adrenaline at this point.
"I'll need to use a scalpel and make sure I get the right one."