Aemoten and Iridiel
The man stopped before him, looking at him questioningly, until finally posing a simple question: “Can I help you?” He had a rather distinct, thick accent of some kind ... one Aemoten did not know where could be from. Not from any of the places he had been through, that was for certain.
The woman, sitting up a nearby tree, just watched them closely, and the black creature was either still slumbering, or at the very least did not make a move towards them just yet.
It was getting increasingly difficult to think and formulate replies... In the end, he was just going with the honest reply. That they had been headed to Zerul and been led onto this detour by Etakar, whose motivations - besides perhaps finding a healer without covering the entire way to Zerul City with his injured forelimb hindering him - he could only guess at.
At his mention of a healer, the man standing before seemed to think for a moment, looking somewhat hesitant. Before he reached a conclusion, though, the more humanlike woman - who had remained seated in the tree, watching them closely, but not lifting her weapons to take aim at any of them - opted to speak up.
Iridiel could barely pick up scraps of the conversation in Rodorian. Her own command of the language was very poor, her oral abilities worse than her knowledge of reading and writing. However, she did pick up the word 'healer' which she was familiar with. She waved down at the gathered party. "Hello! I... healer. I, uh, I fix? Yes?" She winced at her poor language...
At that, Aemoten slowly raised his head, his weary but stern expression in strange contrast with the confusion in his eyes, and looked at the woman sitting up in the tree. Much like the man, she had a distinct foreign accent of some kind that he was not quite able to place, but seemed to uncertainly stumble over the Rodorian words. She was probably not too familiar with the language, one could assume; it was probable that it was the man who usually did the speaking.
Healer... So they had a healer. Seems like your instincts don't lie, Etakar... "Hello," he first simply repeated, his eyes momentarily drifting to some random patch of grass on the ground, then to the dekkun (who seemed to be eying the dead lohk with mild interest), then back to the woman. He had not really greeted the people here before ... or indeed dome much anything besides reply to the man's question. Right now it was achievement enough to keep himself mostly upright in the saddle, it seemed, and even that he achieved mostly by resting his one hand on the saddle's horn and leaning his body's weight onto the arm.
"Etakar was injured earlier today," he noted after a moment. He had called out the noble beast's name and species earlier and pointed at him ... hopefully it would be enough for the woman to realize who he was referring to. "His left arm, at least. Could you please look at it? He won't harm anyone ... not without a very good reason."
The dekkun himself stopped inspecting the lohk and glanced at Aemoten at the mention of his name, then suddenly raised his head and looked straight at Iridiel, scrutinizing her with a pair of deep-set brown eyes that were far too intelligent and understanding for a dumb beast. Though as far as Aemoten knew, he should not have understood enough Rodorian to properly pick up the meaning of his last words, the mention of him not harming anyone without a good reason was responded to by a brief sound from the back of his throat that, more than anything else, sounded dismissive.
Iridiel caught very little of what the two below her were saying - as mentioned previously, her Rodorian was very poor, and she made several confused looks and gestures on her face to try and indicate that she did not know what the man was saying... She looked over to Domhnall with a confused glance, and mouthed
"Can you do some translating for me?" to him.
Confusion was evident on the woman's face - that much was evident to the Sekalynic warrior even through his hazy state of mind and general poor condition. Probably even worse grasp of Rodorian than he had first assumed.
Try to think now... Short of pointing at Etakar again and stating 'Needs healer...'
She looked at her companion - who had meanwhile taken a step to the side and turned so that he was standing sideways to both of them and could easily look at either - instead, and mouthed something to him in what he assumed was the two's native language.
The man replied something in presumably the same language; the only recognizable words he could pick up were 'Zerul', 'Etakar' and 'dekkun'. Probably translating to her... That ... would work.
"He says that they're headed for Zerul City, much like we were, and that it is the large creature - a dekkun named Etakar - who lead them to here instead. He says his - the dekkun's - arm was injured earlier today, and asks whether it could be looked at." "They're headed for Zerul? I see. I suppose I could take a look at this dekkun's arm, if it's necessary. I am sure that Sulis will provide me with the services necessary to heal him." Iridiel walked over to the dekkun, a cautious manner about her movements, almost as if she were ready to take flight at the first sign of hostility. Looking over the dekkun's arm, Iridiel nodded to herself -
This can be fixed with the minimum of fuss, I'm sure... Etakar observed the humanoid approaching him with what now seemed to be stoic peace, head still raised high but oddly intelligent eyes no longer quite so harshly scrutinizing as before, and rather more coolly observant than anything else. He had been mostly standing on three - his injured forelimb lifted off the ground just enough for the backs of his weight-carrying fingers only lightly brush against the surface below.
Only once the woman was already nearby did the dekkun lift his arm further and unfurled three of his fingers, with only the little finger with its long bladelike extension remaining flipped back against his arm - mostly raising and turning it from his shoulder, as the elbow was largely too swollen to bend properly, much like the wrist. The action was very slow and deliberate, designed to properly expose the most damaged side of his arm - with its crushed-in platelets and dried rivulets of blood where it had steadily steeped through the seams - as much as there was a certain amount of carefulness that did not come from not wanting to aggravate an injury and cause further pain. It was almost as he was purposefully attempting to not intimidate the woman.
Iridiel looked over the arm - it certainly was worse for wear, with bloodied areas and the creature-
dekkun, she reminded herself quickly, was holding it off the ground somewhat gingerly; evidently if it was painful to place any weight upon, it was useless as a limb. Iridiel said a quick prayer to Sulis to deliver this creature from the suffering that it was going through, and then laid her hands upon the wounded area gently, so as not to harm the creature any further. Her hands began to glow a light blue or cyan colour as she channelled healing energy into the injury from the reserve that Sulis had made available to her, and before the dekkun's eyes, the wound began to heal itself, sundered tissue and bloodied plates sealing themselves almost as if a surgeon were suturing it closed. Iridiel looked over to Domhnall so he could translate for her.
"Tell them that he'll have to take it easy for the moment - it will not be fully fixed for a few days, but the damage is mostly repaired." The presumably inhuman man watched as his companion made her way over to the large creature for a few moments, eyes flickering between the woman and the noble beast until he seemed at least somewhat confident that Aemoten had been correct and the dekkun wouldn't perceive the woman as an annoyance, threat or a snack - or for the matter anything else which would have the creature react in a less than harmless manner. Not that it was all that likely that he could have done much if it had turned out to be the case... Luckily, nothing of the kind ensued and the woman could heal the creature's injured arm in peace. She told something to him over her shoulder, he nodded briefly and replied but in two words (
"Shall do.") before turning back to the foreign warrior he had first addressed.
Etakar himself observed the blue-cyan light with the same kind of stoic calm he had displayed before, with just a hint of interest mingling in for those who knew the beast. He had seen marvels such as this before ... but it had been a time, and the healing brought a welcome relief. As the glow dimmed and ceased, he tryingly clenched his hand into a fist, turned his hand the other side up and unfurled his fingers again. Evidently content with the results, he retracted his fingers back into the walking position and carefully set the backs of his middle phalanxes to the ground, this time carrying some of his weight over to them. No jolt of blinding pain. No constant crushing sensation, only distant dull throbbing. Probably not a good idea to punch things - or land on this limb, for the matter -, but for walking in a somewhat normal fashion, it would do. It was good enough.
In a motion which was just a slight bit more sudden than the ones just before, he turned his head and eyes directly at the healer, watching her for a moment, almost motionlessly, and then nodding. Concretely. In a very decidedly humanlike manner, as the individual he was addressing was at least very close to one, and used similar mimics. It was not his way to perform elaborate or grand gestures - but he did show his appreciation where it was due, and he would remember the act, certainly.
The woman responded with a nod of her own, and soon returned to her previous position up a nearby tree.
"I was asked to tell you that the arm is mostly fine now," the man informed Aemoten. "Should be all good in a few days; just have him be a bit more careful with it before then." For a moment it seemed that the man would continue speaking, but abruptly he stopped himself, and looked more keenly at the person he was talking to.
The foreign warrior had closed his eyes and lowered his head; he was still heavily leaning his weight forward onto an arm, with the hand gripping the horn of his saddle, but now his arm was shaking slightly. He was breathing slowly, but oddly shallowly. It was hard to tell due to his somewhat tanned complexion, but he seemed pallid. It was not immediately obvious whether he was even hearing what was said to him anymore.
"Hey," the black-haired man inquired in a much sharper tone. "Are you certain you yourself would be fine?"
Aemoten started slightly, shoulders twitching forward in a manner that was at least perceptible, and then slowly raised his head just enough to be able to look at the man when he opened his eyes. Expression still stern. Eyes even more tired than before.
"I will be," he noted. "Just ... magical exhaustion."
The strange man furrowed his brows. "Spell?"
Probably specific term... Might be called something else wherever the man was from. Not precisely what you would get when translating magical exhaustion word-to-word...
Koraakan knew. "No... Had to spend my own ... soul energy. That... Can't heal that. Will go away on its own, with rest. I just need rest. That's all." He attempted to sigh, but was immediately forced to try and refrain from succumbing to another coughing fit. In the end, he just tried to swallow - in vain; by now his mouth felt completely dry, atop of everything else -, closed his eyes once more, and leaned his head back until he was practically facing the sky.
Yes, he needed rest... It was highly questionable he would make it to Zerul City in one go. He knew that. Had known ever since they left the thrice-damned borderhouse behind. But how would he go and tell Thaler that there would be yet another delay (and not just a dozen-minute detour due to Etakar finding himself a healer close to the road) before Zerul City, a delay born from nothing else but the fact that this time, he himself simply could not go on anymore...?
