The fever of the battle wearing off, Hanzo looked around, his expression turning grim. While the bandit he had faced was willingly left to escape, the other other adventurers were far less forgiving. Where there wasn't a body on the ground smoldering with discharged magic, there was instead a bloody brutalized corpse wading in puddles of their own blood. And above most of the latter respective corpses stood the slightly less bloody adventurer that put the respective outlaw down.

For a moment, some undesirably memories flashed in the monk's mind; he quickly shook them away, rubbing at his temples with a pair of fingers each. While he needed to remain in the now, this 'now' contained the overly brutal remnants of a battlefield. Hanzo forced himself to deliberate upon this - did he really want to travel with these folk, so eager and willing to spill as much blood as they could?

Unfortunately, sources were steering towards 'yes'. Not necessarily by choice, mind, but because Hanzo didn't stand much chance at gathering all these materials alone, especially if it meant he needed to draw blood at some point.

The monk then suddenly became aware of a stinging sensation on the cleft of his right ear. Reaching his hand up to gingerly feel it, Hanzo received a faint wet warmth on his fingertips. He returned the hand to his vision: blood. Far more than the tiny sputter on his fingers, too; there was a large gash on his right palm, which proceeded to burn with a far more noticeable pain when he exhaled on it. That dagger had been sharper and closer than he thought, then...

Or perhaps he was getting a bit too soft.

Back to the matter at hand, Hanzo reassessed his 'allies'. Several of them did seem to be quite wounded from their own scuffles, and while Sister Agnes did wish to help, there was only so much one person could do (and she was currently in the process of retching over Sana's brutalities). The warrior lady, Fiona, looked to be the closest and not as injured, so Hanzo decided he would offer some of his own aid.

"Here, I can help you," The monk announced to the adventurer, approaching her with his hands open and at his sides. It seemed like a display of disarmament, showing he had no weapons, but closer observation would reveal a slighting glowing hue outlining Hanzo's hands. "Relax, hold still. This may feel strange-"

With his assurance, Fiona removed her hands from the wound on her flank. A stray bolt had driven into her side, and while she wasn't bleeding excessively, it was still a deep wound. Yet, Hanzo remained sure he could handle it. Falling to one knee, he placed his bleeding right hand atop his left, and then carefully pressed his left palm upon the wound. With practiced, serene focus, the monk channeled his inner energies into her damaged form, sending a hot but painless sensation pulsing in her side and tingling through her body.

A few long moments drew out into an agonizingly spacious minute, and then finally Hanzo removed his hands with a breathy exhale, sounding spent. Fiona would find the wound was closed, though still warm and somewhat sensitive to the touch, as if she could still feel the pain. The spilled blood was mostly left drying on her skin now, through some had smeared on the monk's left hand.

"There. It may still hurt some, but you are not damaged," Hanzo concluded, standing up and nodding to Fiona.

Vaeri found a wall unoccupied by blood, combat or corpses and leaned back on it to observe both the battle around it and to a lesser degree, the wound shooting pain in her abdomen. She couldn't really study it too in depth given the armor being in her way, but every time she twisted her torso the area where she was stabbed flared up. Judging by the blood on the dagger, it got a good inch into her stomach, probably rupturing her intestines. Had her armor not been there to slow the weapon down, the damage might have been really bad. As it stood, she could ignore it for the time being. The pressure from her armor was doing a passable job at stifling the blood flow and keeping her internal organs from poking out.

As far as the battle went, Vaeri was more than pleased. It appeared Lady Menhit blessed her with a group that was good at war. Artful one might even say, if a bit vindictive. At this point, there were only a couple of enemies left who had not been dispatched in some way so the elf began to look for who was most in need of help. Out of the group, Tobias was visibly the worst off, looking a few minutes from death if not seen to soon.

Vaeri took a few deep breaths before she pushed herself of the wall, using the momentum to assist with her walking. As she got closer, the man looked worse than he did at a distance. Tobias probably didn't trust her, but he would have to deal with it, she wasn't about to let him die because he was paranoid. Vaeri sucked in air as she crouched down to his level and another stab of pain shot through her torso.

"I am a holy woman, you can trust me to be able to heal your wounds," she told him in as gentle a voice she could muster as her own wound seemed to open further. She held out her hands as they glowed a soft golden color and placed them on his wounds. If Tobias tried to interfere, she would slap his hands out of the way. He was getting this whether he liked it or not. After she finished, Vaeri stood up and offered her hand to help the rogue stand up himself.

"You didn't kill Fabricant... Why? We lost territory because of your weakness!" A man, dressed in steel heavy armor, yelled at a near unconscious Melvus who was barely able to stand. "A draw means nobody wins! Neither Aesil nor Goetia won... because of your hesitation. You say you're loyal to the One True Queen? You're a vagabond, not loyal to anyone but yourself." The armored man kicked the wizard's feet from beneath him, he fell to the ground with a crunch. His right arm had taken all of his weight and the bone snapped.

"AGH!" Melvus passed out from the pain, not before letting out a cry which could be heard throughout the Aesil battle-quarters.

He woke up later, in the a sickbay. His arm held straight by a plank of wood wrapped with thin rope. He could feel it mending itself. There must be a healing spell on my arm... He tried to move... His nineteen year old self wasn't trained to withstand pain, he fell back onto his back with a cry. A healer rushed into his room to make sure he was alright...

I need to stop daydreaming... He held up his right arm, observing it, as he made his way over to Sister Agnes, who was tending to Hugh who seemed to have taken a few blows himself. Melvus could see the blood seeping from the wound, the warm liquid soaked his sleeves and, now, dripped down to his elbow. He did not break anything major, there's not enough blood for that - this is a minor wound... That slaver... He left, and took some of his men...

"He should have listened to me... He could have saved them, but now they are gone forever... Their lives, scattered in the wind..." Melvus whispered to himself as he watched the nun heal one of his, newfound, companions. He remembered the break in his arm. His bones, he was told afterward, had broken through his skin and yhe break nearly became infected... More than that, he had lost a lot of blood. They were able to recover most of it, however, probably using some magic.

Hugh seemed to just drift off as he looked up into the sky, as Sana was taking care of another hooligan. He seemed to smile at the sky as the faces of people he had lost floated across his vision. With how terrible he felt at the moment, he didn't feel like dying that day. He felt like everything would be okay, but then again, he was in a lot of pain.

He snapped out of his trance as Sana's face was suddenly in front of him, and all he seemed to think about was how beautiful she was. He had a rather stupid looking smile on his face as he watched her expressions, but the smile faded after seeing how worried she was. "I'm real sorry about... the mess." He gurgled the words out, feeling choked up. He watched as tears began to stream down her face and soon they started to stream down his. He didn't understand everything that was going on, but he knew that Sana was crying, and that was a rarity in itself.

"You shouldn't be crying." He said, the tears streaming down his own face as he tasted the salt of his own tears on his lips. His face showed his worry on it. "Every... thing... is gonna be... okaaaay." He slurred the last word, seeming to lean in different directions barely holding himself steady.

In Hugh's dazed state, he felt a warmth coming from his side, and things started to feel better all of a sudden. His vision cleared and his head started to feel better. He heard a voice say his name, telling him he would be okay. It was a mostly unfamiliar voice.

This was not the best thing he was feeling at the moment, though. What made him feel warm and fuzzy inside was having Sana rest her forehead to his and cup his face in her hands. He felt there tears and sweat mixing together as she spoke to him, and he seemed to joyfully laugh with her words.

"You would look beautiful in one of those stupid dresses." He said, his words seeming to flow out lazily, though choked from the tears of joy that she was there with him through all of it. He put his hands on her, letting them rest on her hips, and nodding to everything she said. Every time she said something, He would grin sheepishly and respond with a choked out "yes" followed by a slight joyful laugh. Not a laugh at something funny, but at something wonderful.

There were still lapses in Hugh's consciousness, as Sana suddenly disappeared before his eyes, leaving his hands limply hanging at his sides. A stupid grin was fixed on his face, tears were still running down his cheeks, and he would let out a joyful laugh every now and then as his eyes lifted up towards the sky, his head thrown back. He stared gleefully, knowing that it would all be okay soon enough. He would survive this. Both of them would survive and finally have that happy ending.

Before he knew it, Sana was back, before his eyes. His consciousness was still blurring in and out, but he was coming back to reality slowly, and his reality was that Sana was dragging a body out in front of him, holding it by the leg. Then she was there in front of him on her knees, now bloodied, and with a new feature. She had a wound on her arm. She was hurting and Hugh's expression went sullen.

"You're hurt." He said, his worry very plainly visible in his expression. "I'll try and," He swallowed, his own recovery from his wound still in progress, "help." He scooted on his knees closer to her, reaching his hands out to hold her arm. He took it up in his hands and started looking it up and down, not really realizing that a healer was right there beside him.

His attention was unfortunately diverted towards something behind Sana. He didn't think much of it, as he ran his hands along her forearm, feeling along it for any other wounds. Behind her there laid the man, whom appeared unconscious, but was regaining it slowly.

Hugh had nothing to bandage her arm except for his shirt, which he willfully removed to wrap around her arm. "This will help-" His attention was suddenly diverted towards the man behind her who had started moving and coming back into consciousness. Hugh thought quickly in a moment of adrenaline pumped action, picking himself up taking one of Sana's silver arrows from her back, and standing over her. He gently pushed her body to the ground, as he stepped over her towards the man, with the arrow in hand. He didn't want her to get hurt in this business, not again. Both of them had taken a beating from all of the fighting.

A scowl appeared on his face as he stared the man down. The man himself recovered and stood to face Hugh. Hugh took two quick steps forward, stumbling as he went at the man. He managed to catch himself, and with one violent and uncoordinated action, he stabbed the arrow into the man's sternum, pressing it up and twisting.

All Hugh could gather was that this man had suffered much and that he had made Sana suffer. Now he would no longer be a problem to Sana and Hugh. They could take it easy.

Hugh allowed the man to drop to the ground, the arrow still stuck in the man's chest. He returned to Sana, grabbing her by her hand that did not belong to a wounded forearm, and picking her up, setting her on her feet. Bringing her close and wrapping his arms around her, he said, "You forgot to mention the mini yous that I would play tea party with who would grow up to give me heart attacks every time they ran off with a boy. Yeah, they'll get their hearts broken a few times and they'll break a few too." He said, giving out a chuckle. "Yeah, let's have a happy ending." He stumbled a little, as the adrenaline wore off and he was beginning to realize just how much blood he had lost. Obviously, there was still more healing to be done, but now, this was all the healing he needed.

Lob was looking around from his perch on the smelly house for the next opponent when he saw something amazing. The little him started climbing up a building, just like him! Next it threw a hunter off a roof, just like him! It had an arrow sticking out, Just like him! Now it was on top of the hunter ripping it apart, just like... wait.

It seemed like the little one was getting ahead of Lob so now he had to catch up. Looking down at the hunter on the ground, he did the simplest of things: he let go. Falling faster and faster, he SLAMMED down into body with a sickening crack under his bare feet as it erupted from the force. Looking around, he saw the alpha female bringing back her prey to the sister, so he did the same, dragging half a body across the village square to the alpha female with a huge ignorant grin like a dog.

---

The action had taken almost everything out of the little goblin, now thoroughly tuckered out and in great need of catching his breath. Drizzak heaved and wheezed, he was not in the best shape he could be in. Sure, he could have toned it down a bit, but he had to make a good first impression on those around him. His teammates needed to know that he was not to be trifled with and that he was to be relied on in dangerous situations. He was not going to be carried around like some high-born's pocket pet. No sir. He wheezed to himself as he laughed, but his concentration broke as Sana yelled over at him.

There was a pain in his chest and neck as he watched the severed head sail through the air over to him and hit the ground with a series of wet squelches. One of the other baddies had met a quick end, by the looks of it. A jagged, painful separation of head and shoulders. Drizzak examined with slight interest but also slight disdain. He could have made a cleaner cut, probably. Probably. He wheezed out a growl as the lifeless, glossy eyes of the bandit stared him down from half-lidded sockets. The fact that this head had the gall to look him in the eye, even though he was dead, made Drizzak even angrier than he was before. He didn't know why, or how. He just felt a burning, like bile in his throat threating to spew forth.

Drizzak had only one option. He screamed at the head. His voice was shrill and harsh as it exited his mouth, but he could feel the heat of his anger spilling out at the severed head. The head looked on in dumbfounded fear as he continued to scream his already burning lungs out. He was stronger than this head. He was stronger than anyone's head! And he would scream louder and louder until everyone knew that! He took a breath, turning and crouching to get into a more optimal screaming position before letting loose with another volley of vicious vocalisation. But this time was different.

Instead of sound emerging from his frightening death-trap of a maw, a small gout of flame puffed out and singed the head's facial hair. Drizzak immediately stopped himself, throat raw and aching, to stare wide-eyed at the small black patch where the head's neck touched the ground.

What.

What the hell just happened. Drizzak shook his head and rubbed at his throat, before kicking the head away quickly, hoping none had seen. Confusion ran rampant through his skull as he advanced back toward the others in a limp. He must have imagined that. Bloodloss and all. He was seeing things. Just like he was seeing a dead man walk before him. He stopped himself and his thoughts as he came across Little Blue Lady flying out of an alleyway between the buildings. Within the alley was the Blue Robey Man, Mortosh. He looked a bit worse for wear than before. Drizzak couldn't help but squint at him as he approached and offered a hand.

"Drizzak help blue-man. Get him to people make feel better. Come."

He held his hand out to the strange smelling man, covered in blood and flashing his horrible knife-filled smile.

He looked trustworthy.

@Billsomething

Sana

Sana looked over to Hugh as she sat there and sighed deeply, he had gotten hurt because she had called for him. She had never expected him to come running without his armor or his weapons, she thought he would have been upstairs getting their things. As he moved closer to her and took note of her wound she shook her head. “No, I’m okay, it’s only a flesh wound,” she said softly as she watched him. He never ceased to amaze her; there he was injured, having lost a lot of blood and he was still trying to check to make sure she was okay. She knew better than to protest when he removed his shirt and wrapped it around her arm.

“Thank you,” she said softly and was about to tell him to sit down and rest but she perked a brow as he stood up, he had that look in his eye that he got when he was protecting her; a look of concern falling over her features as he stood over her and pushed her down. Leaning back she rested on her elbow as he stepped over her, turning around just in time to see what he was doing. Cursing herself for just not taking the man out quickly she sat up and stared at Hugh as he let the man fall lifeless to the ground. Turning she saw the half-orc had drug the body of his assailant over to them and perked a brow. It reminded her of how Delia had acted when they first met, not saying much but acting as if she believed Sana to be some form of Alpha. Looking at Lob she smiled and nodded towards him. “Good job,” she said towards him.

Sitting up she saw Hughs hand come to her and she held her own out, letting him pick her up; her own arms wrapping around his waist as he did. At his words she chuckled slightly and shook her head. “Yeah, well you are in no condition to do anything but sit down right now,” she said in a concerned voice. “Don’t worry, we’ll have it,” she said as she leaned close and kissed his cheek, referring to the happy ending he had spoken of to her. Stepping back she helped brace his balance and pushed him down slightly to make him sit. “Now, you sit here and don’t move. I will be right back,” she said softly as she ran her fingers down his cheek. Standing up she began to make her way towards the Inn to retrieve their stuff, stopping she glanced over his shoulder and gave him a firm look. “I mean it Hugh, don’t move,” she said before she continued on her way quickly, running passed the rest of the group and back into the Inn.

Taking the steps to the second floor two at a time she ran into their room and began to gather their things. She stopped for a minute and collapsed on the bed. She was hurt and needed healing but that wasn’t bothering her just yet. Seeing Hugh hurt like that sent her emotions into a spin and she dropped everything she had gathered on the floor. They had been through so much just to get to this point but she had never seen him injured like this. It was something she never wanted to see again and it made her want to scrap the entire thing and just find somewhere else to be but she had told the nun that they would help and they would. She promised herself though that no matter how much danger she was in the future she wasn’t going to call for Hugh to help her again. She refused to be the reason he got hurt again.

Drawing a deep breath she wiped the tears away and plastered a smile on her face as she picked up their gear and made her way back out of the inn. Before she did she stopped by the host and paid their bill and added some more in for the damage that had been done to the building during the fight. Turning she came back out of the inn and walked over to Hugh, dropping their things on the ground next to him before placing her fingers to her lips and giving out two different whistles quickly. Rodger and Epona, their horses came running out of the stable area and trotted over to her. Rodger was a large draft horse that Hugh had had since long before she had met him. Epona was a smaller mare, the color of sand, which they had purchased during their travels.

Kneeling down next to Hugh she pulled a fresh shirt out of his pack and tossed it to him. Grabbing a rag from her bag she rested down on her knees next to him and began to clean the blood from his side carefully. “Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again,” she said in a rather upset tone as she tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. Taking a deep breath she sighed. “Sorry I snapped,” she said as she stood up and began to move their things and pack them on Epona. In Hughs condition she was not going to let him ride by himself and Rodger was plenty strong enough to carry both of them until he fully recovered.

Sister Agnes

Sister Agnes didn’t know what to think as she looked around in horror to what had happened in the small town. She had seen some of these vile persons before, in places she would go to pick up new orphans for orphanage, she had had to out run them several times on horse to keep the children out of their grip. She couldn’t help but feel some relief that they had been taken care of but the manner than many of them dispatched the horrid people frightened her. She had never seen such bloodshed. Turning she looked at Sana and Hugh, seeing how they acted with each other and concluded in her mind that perhaps the viciousness of the attack had been brought about because of protection of each other instead of outright blood lust. At least she had hoped that was why. Either way she felt they would have a far better chance gathering what was needed than she or the other nuns could do.

Turning she watched Lob bring the body over and gasped slightly. Were they all protecting Sana? She hoped so. She froze in her place for a moment before noticing that Lob was injured. Taking a breath she walked slowly over to the half orc and smiled. “Let me,” she said before placing her hand on his wound, a soft warm light radiating from her palm as he sealed up the wound and caused the blood to stop. Pulling her hand away she wiped the blood from her hands on her habit and smiled warmly to him. “Better,” she said before she turned to see if anyone else needed help.

It seemed the group had some healers in the group and that they were beginning to tend to the rest of the party, which was good; she would not be with them on this adventure but she felt they would need more than just healers and turned to go to the apothecary shop. As she did her eyes fell on Mortosh and Drizzak, they both looked injured but she knew there was nothing she could do for Mortosh personally but she had an idea. Walking over to them she smiled. “I have an idea, just wait here,” she said to the two and pushed her way into the apothecary, coming out a few minutes later with Wylsen in tow that was carrying a box of various bottles and vials.

Reaching into the box she pulled out one that held a substance that was dark in color and pulled the cork out. “This, may sting,” she said to Mortosh before pouring it slowly over the wound he had received. The liquid would seem to seep into the undead and slowly his form began to mend. “This is inflict wounds. It hurts most people but for you, well it mends the body like a healing spell does for the rest of them,” she said in a kind voice before turning and pulling out three more vials of the dark liquid and handing it over to Mortosh. “For your journey,” she said before turning to Drizzak.

“Now you I can heal, so hold still,” she said as she reached out and placed her hands on him, the warm light emitting once again from her palms as she moved them slowly over his form to heal him. Once she was finished she turned and reached into the box and pulled out a bottle that was filled with a light green substance that seemed to glow. “This isn’t anything special but you may find use for it. It is essence of mint ice. I use it to sooth a burning throat, others use it on burns,” she said with a wink, having seen what happened with the head. She wasn’t going to say anything but she felt maybe it would help.

Turning she instructed Wylsen to hand out the rest to the group in general. Wylsen nodded and made his way to each person, setting the box down and pulling out various bottles and vials. Each person received something. Vaerie and Hanzo were handed three vials each of inflict wounds potion and instructed that it could be used to injure or to heal their unique party member as he pointed over towards Mortosh. When Wlysen reached Melvus and Zack, he handed them each two vials of Mage Armor Potion and explained to them that it would give them an hour of mage armor on any clothing they wore, causing it to be as real armor. Fiona was handed three vials each of both purify water and purify rotten food potion vials. Wylsen explained that it could be used on any type of water, meat or vegetation that was too far gone to actually consume and it would make it to where it was drinkable, edible and safe to be consumed; that she would only need a drop out of each vial to clean enough for one person. Walking over to Tobias, Wlysen handed him four vials of invisibility potion and told that they would do as the name stated for fifteen minutes for each vial, he just had to drink it. Walking back over to Sister Agnes and the ones that were near her he stopped, not sure who the rest was for.

Sister Agnes pulled out a vial that contained a liquid that swirled orange and handed it to Sana. “This is for him,” she said pointing to Lob. “He puts this on any weapon of his and it will permanently do slightly more damage than it currently does. Sana nodded and took the vial before walking over to Lob and smiling as she popped the cork out of the vial. “Better smash,” was all she said before she poured it over his club. The sister walked over, having taken the box from Wylsen and kneeling down next to Hugh. What remained was various healing potions of different strengths. “After watching the two of you, I think you will need these,” she said in a concerned voice.

Sister Agnes watched the group, they seemed to have found a bond of some sorts in the fight, some of the bonds seemed to have been established long before the group had fully come together in Wylsens shop. Hugh and Sana had obviously known each other for some time and Sana had admitted to knowing Drizzak before today. Sana walked back over to Hugh and Sister Agnes and the nun took note of the injuries that were becoming apparent on Sana. Blood had soaked through the shirt that Hugh had tied around her arm and she was limping. Sister Agnes took Sanas arm and removed the shirt.

“You need healing,” she said as she looked at Sanas wound.

“I’m fine, it will heal,” Sana stated flatly. She hated being healed and was content to just put a few stitches in on either side, bandage it up and go on her way. The sister was having none of that. She didn’t listen to what Sana said as her hand began to glow again and healing the wound quickly. “Damn it nun, I said I’m fine,” she snapped.

“Well he isn’t,” the sister said as she looked over to Hugh. “You are easier to heal, so you are going to be healed,” she added before her hands moved down to the back of Sanas knee and healed there as well. “Now, anyone else?” the sister said as she turned around and looked at the group to see if anyone needed tending to. Sana grumbled as she turned and began to pack up the rest of the gear on Epona as the host of the inn came running out with the box of vials that Sana had brought in and had been left at their table when the group ran out, setting it down next to Sana before scurrying back in and away from this odd group.

Fiona's instinct told her not to let anyone else lay hands on her while she was wounded, but all the same, she made no move to get away from Hanzo, and moved her hands away from the injury when he knelt down beside her. She wasn't the most experienced in judging character, but for whatever reason Hanzo struck her as completely trustworthy. Something about his demeanor, perhaps. She had to remind herself that she often jumped to conclusions, but in this case, she went with it.

The feeling was very warm without being painful, pulsing gently through her body, and the tingling made her shudder slightly, though nothing about the experience was unpleasant. Fiona had never been healed with magic before; if the Sister hadn't been able to help her, she was prepared to just try and stitch the wound up on her own when she got the time. When Hanzo removed his hand from her, she examined the injury through the small tear in her clothes. It seemed now that her jacket and undershirt were the only things that needed stitching.

"Wow," she said quietly, looking back up at Hanzo. "Thank you, that's much better." Noticing that his hand was still dripping blood that was clearly not her own, she pointed to it briefly, some concern showing on her features. "You should get yourself looked at, too. That looks painful."

While she may have wanted to speak with Hanzo some more, it appeared as though the fight was now over, their enemies all dead or scattered. Indeed, Fiona was a little shocked to see the ways in which some of them were dispatched, but she wasn't weak stomached, and resolved to mostly ignore the dismembered bodies. Looking around, she didn't immediately see Tobias. She did hope he hadn't run off... and that he was alright.

Sister Agnes was assisting by healing those that needed it and hadn't received any attention from one of the others, while Wylsen was handing out items to the party. Fiona accepted the potions he offered with a grateful nod and a brief thanks before he moved on to the others. Potions of purify food and water would undoubtedly come in handy, if they were out of any towns or villages for a while.

Lastly, there was the matter of the man in the dirt, with Fiona's knee still digging into his back. He had been offered no healing, and would likely receive none, unless his facial injuries were preventing him from speaking. As of now, he looked as though he could speak just fine. Perhaps he was just too humiliated to open his mouth. Glaring down at the back of his head, Fiona stood, grabbing the back of his collar and hauling him to his feet.

She marched him over towards Sana, watching him closely for any sudden moves. She'd noticed the scene between Sana and Hugh, and while she didn't want to interrupt anything, the bow-armed woman seemed to be their elected leader, and she would probably have quite the say in what to do with this man. "Thought we might want to ask this one some questions," Fiona said, presenting the captured mercenary to the rest of the party. She kicked her foot into the back of his injured leg, forcing him down to his knees.

Tobias was bleeding to death. The terrible gash in his chest was oozing red, creating an extending pool of blood mingling with that of the corpse next to him. The rogue couldn't stop it, he couldn't stand up, couldn't do anything. He tried to call for help and all that came out of his mouth was a sort of... raspy gurgle. He couldn't even reflect on his choices, decide just where he'd went wrong that had landed him gutted like a fish in some back alley, couldn't conjure up any charming last words or dying hopes. He couldn't think of anything but the terrible hole right through the middle of him, and how much he really, really didn't want to die.

A face swam in front of him, strange and beautiful and webbed with scars. The elf. "I am a holy woman, you can trust me to be able to heal your wounds," she said, in a voice soft like pine needles. The rogue stared back at her, whimpering nothing in particular - Tobias didn't even know what he'd say if he could say anything.

She put her hands to his chest and he was filled with an entirely alien sensation. A deep sense of wellness filled him, as though the whole world wanted very urgently to tell him something: that he had done well, and had nothing more to fear, that he was a warrior and he would not die today. The flesh on his chest began to knit itself closed like it was just waiting for someone to ask it nicely. When the healing was done, Tobias let out a few wet coughs.

The rogue sat up and beheld the scene. He was absolutely covered in blood, both his and his foe's. In front of him was the elf, still looking at him, and past her... the dead body of the man he's killed.

Tobias rolled to the side and retched. When he was finished, he looked back to the elf, holding a hand out to him. Warily, he leaned back against the wall and scrambled to his feet on his own.

"Um... thank you," he said. "Not that I, you know, needed it, I was doing fine on my own. Just a papercut, really, could have walked it off. Wish I could say the same for this guy, but, uh... guess that's what he gets for crossing Fortune and Glory here." The rogue held up his arms to flex them and jumped slightly when a an old man tapped on his back. Tobias recognized him as the apothecary.

"For you," he said, handing him a few vials of clear grey silvery liquid. "Invisibility potions. They work for fifteen minutes."

The rogue accepted them with a nod. "Uh... thanks," he said, but the man had already moved on to hand something to Vaeri, uttering a brief explanation before he left the pair. Tobias was just thinking of what to say next when his eyes caught Vaeri's hand on her side, red between her fingers. "Oh, shit, you're hurt." And she'd chosen to heal him instead? ... Weird. The rogue offered his shoulder to the elf to lean on. "Uh, come on. We should get you to someone who can patch that up."

Vaeri watched the strange, little man retch at the sight of the dead body behind her before shakily pushing himself off his butt. Despite being at deaths door less than a minute ago, he claimed to not need any help. Vaeri stifled a giggle as Wyslan appeared and gave Tobias some invisibility potions and her 3 Inflict Wounds potions that were promptly shoved into a side pocket of her bag. They definitely sounded like they could come in handy, not just for healing Mortosh if it came to that. After Wyslan left, Vaeri addressed Tobias with a politeness that was as easily seen through as his fake bravado.

"I am sorry if I inconvenienced you, Sir Tobias. I fear the next man who crosses you might end up like one of the men out in the street." Vaeri couldn't control her expression, a bemused smirk forming against her will despite the condition she was currently in. She nodded no at Tobias' offer to help support her.

"I can heal more than one person a day. This is nothing I can't handle, and I've been cut up worse than this before." Vaeri pulled up the left sleeve of her cloak to reveal her arm covered in similar, larger scar wounds as the ones on her face. "There are more people who need help first, I can wait until everyone else is taken care of first." Vaeri could control her breathing, taking slow, measured breaths, despite the fact that the wound in her torso flared up in pain every time she inhaled too much. She walked back out into the street confidently, the stench of blood not even phasing her. It appeared that Sister was able to handle most of the others who had been injured. The monk had a few cuts, the robed man still had his stab wound, and she had her own to tend to. Vaeri walked over to Melvus and raised her hand towards his arm.

"Relax, I'm about to heal you." Vaeri's hand began to glow gold as she placed it over the wound. This one was far less severe than Tobias' so it would take less time and magical energy for the elf to heal.

Lob had a lobsided smile when he was told he did a good job. He had pleased her so she would accept him, all is good in the pack. He watched her speak to *snifsniffsniff* yep, definitely her mate. At her request for hugh to stay with sternness, he inched closer o enforce her command as well as be available for hugh to not need to move.
"Stay, mego."
His attention was drawn to the side as the smelly house woman tended to his arm. Having traveled with the healer, he was familiar with the magics and so did not flinch away as the warm wash went through his limb stealing away the fire and any possible poison. He purred a gutteeal sound of pleasure and licked the sisters healing hand in appreciation but now he had a new neat thing as he slid the intact arrow back and forth through the healed hole like a body piercing.
"Oohhhh..."
This was entertaining long enough for the alpha female to return with items for all, including a potion she poured over his club. "Smash better." Well that was all he needed to know as he sat down in the dirt and began to stroke his bone for all to see, working the oil into the knob and shaft.

Melvus wasn't paying attention as Sister Agnes went about healing his comrades. His thoughts were rather shifty, he had lost a considerable amount of blood, there was a small puddle forming at his feet. He pierced the muscle, there will be more blood than most other wounds... He wasn't going to ask to be healed, if no one offered to heal his wound then he would wrap it with a bandage and make a stop at the apothecary shop. Healing magic is a beautiful thing... Hugh's wounds closed within minutes and where the blood flowed, it had ceased...

After a healing a few minor, and a few more major, wounds the good sister made herself scarce with a promise of returning soon. After a few minutes had passed, Agnes returned to the scene with the man who ran the apothecary shop. They began passing around vials and potions of different sorts. The man handed Melvus and the other Wizard, Did he call himself Zach? That's a curious name..., two vials each. He said that they were mage armor potions and explained their effects. Melvus realized that his head really hurt. I've lost a lot of blood... It doesn't help that I didn't sleep last night...

The potions remonded him of something the Aesil would use called 'Angel's Raiment'. He fumbled to get the vials into the inner-folds of his robes. After a few minutes, nearly everyone was healed but Melvus and a few others. Though most of the other members of the party were in more serious situations than that of Melvus, the she-elf, approached him.

"Relax, I'm about to heal you." Melvus elected to say nothing, no protest as Sana had and no pride. Mvus didn't posses healing abilities, he would have to rely on his new comrades for a great many things, healing was one of them. His arm became warm, then cool, as the wound was mended. When she had finished Melvus opened his mouth, "Thanks yo-" then he passed out.

Sana

Sana continued to load up Epona with her and Hugh things, going back and forth between grumbling to herself under her breath and sighing deeply. She hadn’t meant to snap at Hugh and she felt awful about it but another part of her wanted to tear into him more for letting his guard down and taking a wound such as he had from a piece of garbage bandit like the one that now lay decapitated on the ground. She knew he had only been trying to protect her but if it had been anyone else he wouldn’t have let his guard down like that. Reaching up she rubbed her temples out of frustration and then glanced over as she heard Fiona.

Turning she looked over to the man that was now on his knees and walked over to them; looking him over for a moment before locking eyes with the female warrior. “You were obviously thinking more clearly than I was,” she admitted before kneeling down before the man and tilting her head to the side. “Seems you got lucky, had it been anyone else you went up against,” she said in a flat voice as she turned to look at the carnage around them, “I doubt you would have made it out so unscathed. So, let’s not try to push your luck and you may yet walk out of this alive.” Turning to look back at the man her hand flew up as he spat in her face and slowly wiped the spit away. “Or not,” she said as she rose from her place and wandered over to the man that Hugh had killed with one of her silver arrows.

Ripping the arrow out of the mans sternum before shoving it into his eye socket and pulling the eye ball out. “Told you I would do that,” she said before making her way over to their prisoner, twirling the arrow in her fingers with the eye ball sliding up and down the shaft of the arrow. Dropping to her knees in front of the man she held it up for him to see. “He got off lucky, he’s dead,” she said as she grabbed the man with her free hand by the shoulder and placed the tip of the arrow near his eye. “You on the other hand are not, so this may hurt,” she warned as she moved the tip slowly towards his eye. The man struggling but Sana moved her hand on his shoulder to the back of his head and held him still. “Last chance.”

“Wait..wait damn it,” he stammered and Sana stopped the advancement of the arrow.

“Oh, you wanted to say something?” Sana said with a bemused look on her face.

“What do you want to know?” he asked through heaved breaths.

“Oh the answer to life, the universe and everything but I will settle for who are you, who was the slaver and if this was your whole merry bunch.”

“I…I tell you that, you’ll let me go?” he asked looking at Sana frantically.

“You have my word,” she said in a flat voice. “Now talk.”

“I… I’m Grent, I work for Sal and that was all of us, I swear it,” he said. Sana was not so convinced and began to move the arrow closer to his eye. “Alright damn it, there was a dozen more of us outside of town in the woods to the north. Just let me go, that’s all I know, I swear it!” he said. Sana could tell by the fear in his voice that he was speaking the truth, or at least as much truth as he knew.

“Alright,” Sana said, turning her head for a moment as she looked around at the group and her eyes fell on Hugh. “I did say I would let you go.”

“That’s right you did! You gave me your word,” Grent said letting out a sigh of relief as the arrow was slowly pulled away from his eye.

“That I did,” Sana said in a cold voice as her head turned and she looked at him in the eye before shoving the arrow right into his eye socket and into his brain, killing him nearly instantly. Pulling the arrow out, along with the eye she let go of the back of his head and let his body drop to the ground. “See, I let you go,” she said before she spat on the corpse and walked away, grabbing the two eye balls off her arrow and throwing them to the ground before letting the arrow drop back into her quiver. “I never said I would let you live,” she muttered as she went back over to Hugh.

Sister Agnes

Sister Agnes watched the scene unfold and she didn’t know what to do other than to turn her head as she leaned against a post and threw up again. She was not used to this type of carnage. Wiping her mouth she looked around and saw that there were still others that needed healing and she went to each one of them in turn and healed them with her abilities, talking to them in kind words and trying to push the mental image of Sana with her arrow in the mans skull out of her head. She healed Hanzo first and then Vaeri before noticing that one of the group was now passed out on the ground.

“Well that is not good,” she said quietly before looking around and taking a deep breath; walking back over to Sana carefully. Sana turned her head and looked at the nun as she head the old woman clear her throat. “It seems someone is in need of rest,” she said pointing over towards Melvus. Sana glanced over and grumbled slightly before looking at the group.

“Okay, I know we have a job but I really don’t like the idea of slavers wandering around freely. Seems less than ideal. So who is up for another fight and who needs to rest,” she asked as she ran her fingers slowly through Eponas mane. “We need to make this quick before they decide to come after us instead. Volunteers?” Sana asked as she unslung her bow from her back.

After His healing Mortosh had asked sister Agnes where he could go and wash his armor and she pointed him towards the the back of apothecary where he of course proceeded to wash his armor and skirt but it seemed that his gauntlet were a lost cause for the blood seemed to have fused to the steel Possibly by the negative energy that allowed for his second life.

He hung his robe and skirt up to dry which left him mostly nude (is nudity even applicable to a skeleton?) being that he still wore his boots and belt which held the three vials that the nun handed to him. when he was finished he went to the front of the shop and sat down next to Hugh whose only reaction to his presences was him giving him a quick glance and saying nothing, if his appearance bothered him then he didn't show it so in relevant silence Mortosh quietly watched The Eager half-orc polish his Bone up, down from the shaft to the top he was going so fast that splatters of the potion that he was rubbing onto it was being sent flying.

("Let's Just Hope The Next Town We Will Enter Won't have Witness Such A Violent Battle") he thought still watching the Half-Orc whose rhythm in the rubbing of his bone was almost hypnotizing.

Mortosh had heard the integration Or Zam did she then just described to him what she heard. it was later that Sana came back to the group and asked them if there were to be any volunteers who would go with her to get rid of some slavers. while he did not enjoy idea of letting slavers wander freely he believed that there was just as much work in town as well they sill had to cleaning up the bodies.

So Zam told her that and they went to back of the shop and Mortosh got himself dressed.

Vaeri's eyes widened when Melvus just passed out. People usually didn't react that way when they got healed. Given the amount of blood on the ground, it was probably due to blood loss from his wound. Vaeri didn't remember seeing him try to stifle the blood flow, so that may have been a contributing factor. Despite all these rationalizations, Vaeri took a step back from the man's unconscious body and looked away at something else.

That something else just so happened to be Sana's interrogation of the man captured in the last battle. Sana's tactics while brutal were effective. Perhaps she still felt vengeful after the injury suffered by her mate, but that did not quite matter right now. They could not allow the slavers to attack this village again, especially after the bloodbath this skirmish had been. Besides that, Vaeri still had yet to have a real battle and didn't want the stab wound in her midsection to be for naught. 'Twould be embarrassing.

"Ah, thank you Sister." Vaeri said to Sister Agnes when she healed the wound in her torso. Vaeri would have easily been able to heal it herself, but given that there would be a second battle, it would be for the best to save her remaining healing for later.

"It would be wasteful if I did not join in." Vaeri piped in when Sana asked for volunteers for people to fight the camp of slavers. "I have yet to adequately serve my Lady, and I can not stand for these men to escape. I have the feeling that it would not be difficult for them to recoup the losses suffered today." It was then that Vaeri remembered she had never gotten around to finishing what she had started when she left the inn. The cleric reached out behind her back and pulled on the handle sticking out, freeing from the enchanted pack a two handed axe a good 3 feet long and rested it on her shoulder. She was not going to let herself be attacked while unarmed again.

Fiona held the mercenary still while Sana questioned him, observing her methods with interest. She had a feeling she wasn't quite capable of what Sana was doing, waving a an eyeball around on an arrow like it was some kind of shish kebab. She wondered if it was just the extra years of adventuring that had hardened her enough to be able to be this vicious. Or perhaps it had something to do with Hugh's injury. Fiona couldn't say.

She was a bit shocked, however, when Sana chose to execute the mercenary, deliberately misleading him, and Fiona as well, into thinking she would spare his life. Seeing as he was dead almost instantly, Fiona released her grip on him, and he thumped to the ground on his back, one more body among the others to be cleaned up. Fiona opened her mouth to protest, but the words died when Sana spit on the corpse and walked away. She stood still for a moment, glancing down at the body, but in the end went to retrieve her own horse from the stables.

She spent a few moments debating what had just happened with herself, realizing that she really hadn't thought it through. Her gut told her that killing the man, a defenseless prisoner, was not the right thing to do, but wondering what he might do if they let him go made her doubt herself. He worked for slavers, meaning he would probably return to them, maybe even bring more, or warn them. Nothing good would come of his release, surely. But executing him? Fiona shook her head. At least the decision hadn't fallen to her.

By the time she returned, leading her horse, Sana had proposed an attack on the remaining slavers, splitting the group to account for those that needed to recover. Hanzo's healing having restored her to just about full strength, Fiona felt that she was definitely up for another fight. It would likely be a no-prisoners affair, and while she wasn't fond of killing if it could be avoided, it seemed their only option here.

She nodded at Sana, resting a hand on the hilt of her sword. "I'm up for it. This fight here will have been a waste if the slavers are just allowed to regroup."

Lob took a few more moments to work his weapon until it positively glowed, he shuddered from the effort but finally felt that the work was finished and licked his hand clean of the last remnants. While he had been polishing his pounder, he watched the alpha female do her work to gather information. When she dropped the eyes off her arrow, Lob loped over and took the two s he got closer to her but a respectable distance.

"Lob find good! Find them!"

He sniffed the eyeballs in his hand and emulated the tracking of a dog to squat next to the dead mercenary. With his first tribe he had lived with the dogriders and slept with the dogs at night. He had learned to track by scent, a skill apparently lost to most of all races and most rangers. They needed the stink of ten orcs to track them a mile, he could fine a single orc over ten miles.

Tobias was still rolling his shoulders as he sauntered up to the rest of the group. Vaeri had just finished healing an unconscious wizard, the goblin was running around nearby, there were corpses everywhere, and a massive orc-looking... thing was siting calmly, vigorously working lubricant into the shaft of his bone.

Tobias was, for reasons he couldn't put his finger on, quite relieved to see Fiona was alive, at least. Not only that, but she'd also acquired a prisoner. Tobias watched the interrogation with morbid, horrified attention, turning a very distinct shade of green as he did so.

Sana was crazy. Stark raving out of her mind. She was twirling an eye, an actual human eye, around on an arrow like a fancy hors'dourve. Tobias had known people like that, and none of them he would ever want to work with.

He stood, paralyzed, while the interrogation closed. He watched speechless as she executed - murdered - the man kneeling in front of her. It was brutal, barbaric. Insanity. And now they were going back for more. Sana wanted to go after the rest of them, and was asking for volunteers. Already, the strange orc-thing, the elf who'd saved his life, and even Fiona - sweet, naive, innocent Fiona - had agreed to go with her.

Without knowing what he was doing Tobias stepped forward and opened his mouth. "You people are fucking insane."

The silence hung in the air like a corpse from a noose. Clenching his fists, Tobias continued. "No, I mean it. You just killed him, Sana. He's dead now. D-E-A-D. You didn't like him, so you shoved an arrow through his eye socket. He did what you asked, told you what you wanted to know, and you fucking killed him anyway. That's not acceptable, that's not what people do."

His voice gained power as he paced back and forth, trying to make furious eye contact with every one of them. "I know what you're thinking - here comes the criminal, lecturing us about right and wrong. And yeah, I'm a thief. I lie and cheat and steal for a living, I do a lot of bad things, but I don't kill people. I just killed someone for the first time in my life, and it was in self-defense, and I think it may have been the worst thing... ever. But you people? You made a fucking day of it. And you didn't just kill these people, you butchered them! Look around!"

The thief stopped and pointed to a skull at his feet. "Someone was cutting out skulls. That's delightful. I'm glad to be a part of their team." He walked another few steps to where something shiny lay in the ground. Picking it up, he displayed it to the group. "A fork. It has blood on it. Someone stabbed somebody with this." He walked another few feet and pointed to a foul-smelling, vaguely human shaped lump of charred flesh and ashes. "What the fuck am I looking at right now? Can anyone tell me? Was this ever even a fucking person?"

Another brief walk - this time, he held a mangled dead body up. The spine was snapped, the neck was shredded, the face (eyes in particular) were puddles of gore. Tobias felt his stomach turn as he displayed the corpse. "AND WHAT IN THE NAME OF HOLY FUCK HAPPENED TO THIS GUY?"

Tobias dry heaved a little as he let the body collapse, then straightened back up to face the others. "You say these guys were kidnappers, slavers? Stop them, by all means. Rough them up, imprison them, 'bring them to justice', all that shit people are always trying to do to me. But don't pretend this was anything other than a massacre. And if you guys are going to go hunt for more of this? Good luck and leave me out of it."

It occured to Tobias that Sana could probably kill him now if she wanted - she had a bow, and he was still too woozy to be dodging arrows. Fucking... whatever.

The thief turned and walked back towards the inn. "Try to have fun, dearies. I'll be here in case you decide to start saving orphans again."

As Sana pushed Hugh, he staggered and fell back, catching himself and planting himself in a sitting position. He thought it was smooth, but he realized that he fell because Sana pushed him and he was suffering from blood loss, so he didn't have very good balance in the first place. He seemed to bob back and forth, feeling the adrenaline wear off from the fight. He was so lost, he didn't even notice that the giant orc had sat down to keep an eye on him, until the orc said some orders to him.

Hugh nodded, looking a little dazed from the ordeal, as he rocked back and forth. He finally started looking around, noting the suddenly missing eye from the body in front of him and the missing arrow he had stabbed into its chest. "Huh." He grunted, not in a particularly caring mood. One thing was for sure, he was in a more weakened mental state from before. As soon as he regained his strength back, he might be a little more alert, and back to his former self.

He started playing with his curiosity a little more, looking from different body, to body, examining them. He soon came to the body of the one he had killed, only there was a new feature to this one. It had no head. In a moment of realization, he skittered backwards, crawling on his back. There was fear in his eyes as he stared at it, "All dead." He said in a more panic attacked whisper. He put one hand to his head, covering one eye, and holding a little of his own hair. His breathing was faster as he looked back at the headless corpse.

It had been so long since he had felt or seen any triggers for these flashes of memories of decades ago. A headless corpse wouldn't have triggered anything not too long ago. Now it brought back memories of when Hugh was much younger. More stupid and frightened, but now he felt like that young Hugh. The little 20 some years old paladin from the last battle. All of his friends had been crushed before his eyes, and when he came back to find them, their bodies were desecrated, defiled. Some of them were stripped naked and hung from posts. Some of them were headless, and their heads were stuck on spears.

Count to four, inhale. Count to four, exhale.

He felt like he was somewhere else, looking at all the different mangled bodies. He felt like he couldn't breath from the stress. His heart beat loudly, pounding in his ears, and he couldn't hear anyone. Before he knew it, everywhere he looked, he saw something from his past. Faces of friends he had lost passing before his eyes. He started mumbling different things, meaningless to anyone else, but to him, they were the memories. They were names and places of where he met them, and where they died.

It was a long list, as he covered his eyes with his hand, and kept going. It was comforting to him, somehow. He hadn't forgotten anything. He remembered everything. "I'm sorry, I wasn't good enough." He said, finally finishing the list. His face looked tired all of a sudden, as the trigger slowly subsided, and he came back to reality. He seemed more sullen than before, looking nearly exhausted.

It was no wonder why this memory was triggered and was so lucid. He didn't just remember the things about his family. He remembered everything that came before, that caused different struggles for him to deal with as he moved forward in his life. He felt tired, now. Not just tired from the moment. He felt tired from all that he had gone through. It seemed like every time he settled down, some kind of tragedy took everything from him and stole away any semblance of happiness he tried to have.

He just needed something to eat and drink, and he would be back to taking names and cracking skulls.

Understandably enough, Fiona seemed to be amazed. The monk got that expression a few times, whether it be from people never healed with magic, or from those not expecting for him to wield magical abilities. Ki was an amazing force when one learned to properly harness it, but in a sense it really wasn't that much different than magic - simply all coming with within, rather than shaping the without. When the warrior pointed out the bleeding gash on his hand, though, Hanzo decided it would be best to get that healed by the Sister.

Hanzo desperately tried not to even glance at the glorious bloody murder that had taken place in this town, but it seemed that everywhere one looked there was another ravaged corpse. This group of adventurers was really making itself out to be destructive gladiators, even when they were seeming to dispense justice. Of the two men that were merely apprehended, one had already been killed, and then brutalized yet further.

By the time Hanzo and Agnes intersected, the monk had gained a very distant look altogether, just averting his gaze from the battlefield entirely. He did spy a bit of the Sister's face, plastered with grim concern, and figured perhaps she felt a similar way as he.

Hanzo stomached his nerves and looked back to the rest of the group. The orc, goblin, and strangely enough the elf all acted as complacent as ever, it seemed to the monk. Hugh was looking astoundingly shocked for some reason, the wizard had fainted flat, and Tobias had a face somewhere between horror and disgust. Sana, meanwhile, was interrogating the last slaver with the threat of an arrow through the eye, while already having another eye impaled on that arrow. When the man finally stammered out what information he could muster, the woman suddenly twisted away her promise to let the man go, and shoved the arrow through his head.

"No."

All too suddenly, the monk let out what could only be a growl, clenching his fists at the sight of the execution. She slid the severed eyes off the shaft and returned the arrow to her quiver, spitting on the dead man. Time fell back several years, and Hanzo witnessed the sight of several gutted, severed, completely brutalized corpses strewn about. The girl, she was there, and she was behind it...

He took a step, and the crunch of the beaten-down dirt road brought him back. Hanzo exhaled suddenly, blinked once, twice... inhaled through the nose, and out through the mouth. None of that, not now. Fire was not quelled with more fire.

His thoughts did not stay internal for long, as the rogue quickly moved forth to object Sana's actions, and the actions of all the adventurers. It was made quite clear that whatever cause they were fighting for, the brutalization with which they did so was unacceptable. Hanzo could only agree. Tobias was fed up, and not afraid to put that into words. While Sana prepared for a raid on the slavers' hideout, the rogue quite swiftly rest his case and refused to have any more part in it, retreating to the inn.

Within the brief silence that took place afterwards, Sister Agnes coughed again, quietly pointing out the fainted wizard. Partly glad for something to take his mind off of things, Hanzo took responsibility and heaved the poor soul over his shoulder. Fortunately, Melvus wasn't too heavy to bear.

Before the monk followed Tobias, however, he shot a stern-faced glance back to Sana. Whatever had possessed her to do what she did, Hanzo hoped it could be purged. This world didn't need more cold-blooded, gory murderers.

---

"Are you alright?"

The question came to Tobias from Hanzo, still bearing Melvus draped over his shoulder. "I understand it is difficult to deal with murderers, no matter what side of the law they believe they are on," The monk attempted to sympathize, though how well the rogue would resonate with him was yet to be seen.