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<Snipped quote by Mas Bagus>

The latter, it's a fancy term to describe "magical blacksmith". Two popular franchises that feature them regularly are Dungeons & Dragons and Final Fantasy, perhaps under different terms but the core principle remains the same

For your convenience, here's a link to the D&D version: Link.


Hello there! The IC world doesn't quite have any solid rules on artifacts and whatnot, but I'm sure we can build something up from what's already there. You can join the discord channel to discuss it in depth, and/or make the CS draft and we can go from there. Glad to have you on board.
Greetings fellas, I'm the sub-manager of this nifty little project. Pleased to meet you all. Looking forward to the trip, I'm sure it will be fun.
A couple welll-placed blows put the two escapee on the ground and knocked some senses back into their noggin. See? Percussive maintenance worked! Yvonne flashed a toothy, feral grin promising further pain as she took half a step back, the promise of further pain hanging like storm cloud over the two. The message was clear enough - comply or get fucked. And to that end, she'll loom over them as much as necessary.

Didn't even need to start breaking something. These two sure learned fast, eh?

"They're all yours." Said the mercenary, gaze falling onto the mansion where someone (or something) was breaking both furniture and people in equal measure judging from the noise. "We'll probably got to go in half blind regardless, but do try squeeze our guests for intel."
"Let me guess, it all went to shit somehow." They're close by, and Sparky wasn't trying to be discreet. Whatever's going on the other end sounds chaotic, one didn't need to be a genius to reach the conclusion. Clicking her tongue, Yvonne stretched and prepared herself for what comes next.

It's as inevitable as the crack of dawn.

"Whatever they're running from, they fear it more than you." The mercenary remarked, walking past the elf toward the fleeing pair. "Words ain't gonna get through, yeah? Just beat them up."

She'd punch the first man in the guts, and if the other was still close enough trip the bastard as he went past. A bit of abuse should help them see some sense, nothing like pain for wake-up call.
Yvonne helped Sparky sit up, following some more instructions about the stuff... huh, sticky gauze. That's so convenient. Even without help, it's probably feasible for self-care with this kit. Well, feasible. Definitely would feel so messy.

They got rather close for her to wrap the bandage around, enough to feel each other's breath. Yvonne didn't think too much of it, instead idly noticing that the sky's somewhat brighter than when she had started, a very dark blue instead of pitch-black. An idle musing broken by a soft sensation at her cheek.

"Whuh??"

It's always the unexpected that gets you. The surprise lasted long enough for Sparky to steal the bandage from her hands, the mercenary blinking rather dumbly a few times before inching away to give the elf some room to work. That's just so bloody confusing, she thought that Sparky's not interested in her? Way to send a mixed signal.

Or maybe she's just overthinking. But then again, no one knows what an elf may think at any given time.

"Oh you. You really shouldn't be moving." That said, Yvonne did nothing beyond an exasperated sigh as she scooted back and started cleaning the tools. Well, as clean as it could get. There's only so much liquor in that flask, and it's probably mixed with blood at this point. She need to find the time to properly boil it later...

...come to think of it, what took the infiltration team so long?
"Yeah, that's pretty standard." Repeated the mercenary, flippant as always. "Just lay there and let me take care of you."

Hmm, so even the elf didn't have everything. Food for thought. Yvonne wordlessly took out her own supply, by itself rather meager - a slightly warped tongs, scissor, and plier made out of bronze, a pair of curved needle with silken thread, and two rolls of linen bandage. All compact enough to easily fit in a belt pouch. It was laid beside Jazdia's own kit, minimalist yet complementary toward each other.

Dipping and thoroughly rinsing her hands in the whiskey, Yvonne listened and nodded at the explanation of the mysterious stuff. Come to think of it... she's pretty sure she had saw something similar in the alchemist's workshop. Bigger and gaudier, sure, but the shape matched. So that's what they're used for.

"Got it. Lay on your side and try to relax, yeah?"

Administering the anasthetic was definitely many levels up from drowning the patient in hard liquor and hoping for the best, so off to a good start. Next, clean up the site with the alcohol gauze. While waiting the numbness to kick in, dip the tongs, then plier, then scissor into the alcohol and run it over the fire to sterilize the thing. Now... a few pokes confirmed that her patient was as numb as it could get.

Clip a fresh gauze on the tongs and gently clean up inside the wound, draining the blood pooling up inside while she's at it. She could feel Jazdia tensing through the process, but then the elf stubbornly stayed still. Good girl. After a few repeat, the gauze eventually came out not entirely drenched in blood. Squinting, she took out her dagger to carefully reflect the firelight into the gaping wound to investigate the condition.

...yeah, Delving clipped the liver alright. Minor, thankfully, but even a minor one will take a while to heal. Honestly, could've been worse. Two inch closer to the center and the elf probably would've just died then and there.

"Yeah, your liver took a glancing hit there. Normally people needs half a year to heal from this." Yvonne commented with a rather chipper tone, returning her dagger to the sheath and dipping the hand into the tankard. Flick the excess alcohol away a few times, run the hand through the fire, and flick a few times to extinguish the blaze. Clean again now. "But you'll live. Let's close you up, then you can catch a nap."

Looking at the silver linings, the wound was so ridiculously smooth that even Yvonne would have little trouble fixing it up. The muscles first, deeply crimson layer that now flapped impotently after the severance. Edges, center, inbetween, inbetween, as many times as needed until it's neatly sewn back in place. Next was the abdominal wall, same method. Edges, center, inbetween, repeat. The flesh under the skin, same deal. Edges, center, inbetween, repeat. Finally, the skin itself. Edges, center, inbetween, repeat...

...and done.

Yvonne blinked, breaking out of the hyperfocused state as she behold her work. She can already hear the company surgeon nagging about wasted threads with how they're so closely spaced, but honestly who give a shit about the threads? The suture will hold and as long as she didn't run out midway, all's good.

"Phew! All done. Sparky, you still awake? Sit up a bit, gotta bandage you. Then we're finished for real."
With a faint hiss the spark caught the kindling, the little pinprick of flame as bright as the stars in the darkness of night. With careful handling Yvonne kindled it further, until it gave rise to ember and from ember into a proper campfire. It'll still gradually rise over the next few minutes as it consumed the wood, but now it was sufficient to try save the wounded elf.

And boy, that wound didn't look good at all.

"You almost got ran through, didn't you?" She couldn't fully conceal the worry in her voice, quickly unrolling the aforementioned medkit. Yvonne stared at the stuff in a few seconds, recognizing the more normal items but some were practically alien to her. Still, the whole array looked and smelled like how medical supply should be. She certainly had worked with worse, patching wounded men with little beyond repurposed fishing supplies. "You'll get through this, Sparky. I've seen people recovers from worse."

It was an honest opinion, from someone who had seen more wounds than most people. That kind of wound looked rather bad, but it didn't strike anything vital. Maybe clipped the liver, which would hurt like a motherfucker, but that isn't fatal. Plus, Sparky's surprisingly resilient. It'll be fine, as long as Yvonne didn't screw up. So, no pressure there. None at all.

She wish Solomon was here.

Taking a deep breath, Yvonne steadied herself as she removed her gauntlets. Let's get this over, yeah? Sooner everything's treated, the sooner she'll get to rest.

"Hookay, lets do this. Tell me how to use these stuff."
Hmm. Not dont want to, but cant? Allergy or something? Well, Yvonne personally would prefer risking the allergy than bleeding out from a literal hole in her torso, buuuut Sparky knows herself best. Hopefully. If it save her the potion, she's not complaining.

"Choking is safer than blunt trauma, you know." Yvonne quipped with a hint of disapproval, but didn't dwell on the topic. She stood up with a groan, carefully propping the elf as she belted her mace again. "But whatever. Good idea, Airy. Maybe keep his arm somewhere, Solomon can probably reattach it."

Half-blind, the two of them hobbled excruciatingly slowly toward the remnant camp of the gate guards. Why'd they set up in the middle of the damn field, she had no idea. Perhaps they realized how futile it was, watching over this much stretch of land with so few people, and have decided to just fuck it and camp in the middle. Regardless, it's right where it stayed.

The fire had long since doused, obviously, but there's still some small collection of firewood and Yvonne wouldn't mind tossing a bedroll or two to keep it going. At first she had intended to grab one of it for Sparky to lay on at, but the stench of sweat and dirt immediately made her reconsider the decision. Odds are the wound would get infected just by touching the damn thing... sighing loudly, she unclasped her cloak and lay it flat on the ground. There's definitely a bunch of tears and blood on it by now, but somehow it's by far the cleanest piece of fabric within reach.

They're so doomed.

"Stay down and keep pressure on the wound, I'll get the fire started. Then we can see how badly you've got fucked over." Reaching for the other side of her belt, Yvonne fiddled a bit to release a water canteen and a silver flask before handing it to the elf. "Water and hard liquor. You'll probably need it."

Now, the firestarter... Thank the quartermaster for drilling the habit of carrying emergency supplies. Gathering what little bit of dried straw and branches, Yvonne hunched over the still-warm remnant of campfire as the rhythmical tapping of flint and steel rang across the night.
Yet another interruption. Yvonne flinched at the grab, turning around with a snarl, only for her sails to deflate at the sight of Jazdia's pale and bloodied figure. Sparing Jonas one last glance, she scoffed and let go as she stood back up and did her best to wipe the bloodsmear off her arm.

It didn't help by much.

"A few more seconds and he'd go to sleep. If I want him dead, I would've caved his head in." For all the complaint she uttered, she did stopped choking the old man. Now he's slumped on the ground wheezing, looking nothing like the striking figure he was a few minutes prior. "His arm needs treatment, but to hell with that. How in the world are you still standing?" A hand went for the potion belt, thumbing the lids to identify the content. "I have potions. It's nasty, but it does the job-"

To think that her supply of healing potion will be gone after the first battle. This certainly wasn't how Yvonne envisioned her mission.
"I'm a bit busy at the moment." Yvonne remarked, turning her head only to wince when even that simple motion pulled her muscles the wrong way. Still keeping her hand on Jonas until he pass out, the mercenary saw the squire's blunted blade and gestured at the grounded sword with her chin. "Use this if you have to."

Well, at least the battle's over now. She idly wondered how the infiltration team fared. Surely they've found Cedar by now?
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