Rivers out of Deserts Capter Two
In which the riverboat drifts on and blood is involved.
Geography for this section: The area they're sailing is post-Cata Thousand Needles with one modification. If you don't play WoW, then it's a flooded canyon, with the cliff walls still sheer in most places except for a couple, where the rock face crumbled. Talyekiri hid her boat at the base of one of those slopes. One end of the canyon is now open to the sea; the other end is a forest, part of which is now underwater.
A particularly heavy lurch of the riverboat made Talyekiri stagger and fall to one knee, sending a bolt of pain through her stomach. The pain shot through the vestiges of mindless rage, startling her back to the present. She shook her head to clear it, and looked down.
There was blood pooling on the roof of the cabin, dark irregular patches of it, already drying in the hot sun. Her shoulder ached fiercely from a blow that had wrenched it back; the arm just below was bruised and bleeding on the outside. The cut to her other arm stung fiercely, but the bleeding had slowed some. Most of the blood had come from the new, throbbing wound in her stomach, its edges already healing with new, light blue skin. A wound that she barely remembered taking in the heat of her rage. The pain went deep.
Lucky. Talyekiri glanced at Korg, still slumped in the prow, and snarled. An earlier shot had blasted a warped hole in his plate armour, and dragging him down the slope she hadn't been sure if he still breathed. That she'd survived a stomach shot in the boiled leather she wore -luck, the healing effects of berserker rage, or ancestor spirits. Likely all three.
She swayed to her feet, light-headed. The jump down to the deck made her grunt, and she had to grip the wheel to stay upright.
Kiri'aka was at her side in an instant, crooning with worry, nuzzling at her. The raptor licked the bloody wound, and Talyekiri pushed her head away before that rough tongue could do any more damage to her guts. Bad enough without getting raptor spit in there...but it was good to have living company, good to have something else she'd fought for and won.
She looked up to Korg again, and spotted a Needle ahead. The boat wasn't moving as fast as it could, but running into a solid stone pillar would wreck them even at this speed. Sailing through the Thousand Needles was like going through a half-drowned forest, without the leaf-cover. Still leaning heavily on the wheel, she gripped the spokes and turned the boat's nose to the left. That aimed them at the canyon wall, but she'd have time to turn away before hitting that.
The pain was bad, but she'd felt pain before. She ignored it. It would heal, or not, but it wouldn't kill her, not yet. Not like others. Not like maybe -
Talyekiri let go of the wheel, and staggered over to the limp body of her friend.
Korg was lying on his face, with the rent in his backplate exposed and sticky with blood. Talyekiri knelt down beside him and ran strong fingers over his neck through the chink in his armour. For a moment she wasn't sure if she could feel anything. She tipped the helmet sideways a little to let more air in.
A slow, rasping breath, barely there. Talyekiri could have cried aloud in relief.
The wound to his back, though -she looked at it properly for the first time. The metal was sticky with dark blood, the flesh beneath charred and raw, and the bone of the shoulder-blade was barely visible amid the worst of the damage. Too far left to have grazed the backbone. It was an injury that would have killed a human with ease, yet Korg still lived. Her friend was a powerful warrior.
She herself was no healer, though, and, strength or not, a healer was what they both needed. Talyekiri gritted her teeth and leaned against the prow.
She was a druid by choice, yes, and druids could heal. She'd done it herself, before. But she'd become a druid from her love of battle, and years dropping in and out of animal form did not make for a skilled healer. Good or not, though, she had the training.
Water. She'd need water.
Grumbling to herself, Talyekiri closed her eyes and reached out. Setting the spirit apart from the body was the trick to healing, she'd been told. Reaching out to the life that surrounded her did not need her to step out entirely, but she had to weaken the bonds that tied spirit to flesh. Bonds that were stronger than most in a shapeshifter.
Life. Like ancestor spirits, living in the water...
There. Talyekiri bowed her head, and carefully took hold. Her hand reached out to touch the burned wound in Korg's back. I ask...
A surge went through her like a flash flood. She could sense the damage in the flesh. More than that, she could alter it crudely. She could tug clumsily at the edges, moving life back in, ordering muscle and bone to heal.
Talyekiri opened her eyes cautiously. The wound didn't look much better, but she could see that the damage was less than before, and the throbbing in her stomach had lessened.
A skilled healer could have done a better job. Most druids who hadn't nearly abandoned themselves to the tiger could have done a better job, come to that. She'd have to try again later, fix up the muscle so that his arm would work properly, make sure her guts were in order. Still, at least he'd live until later.
And after that...she flexed her hands, imagining claws. After that, who knew?
Geography for this section: The area they're sailing is post-Cata Thousand Needles with one modification. If you don't play WoW, then it's a flooded canyon, with the cliff walls still sheer in most places except for a couple, where the rock face crumbled. Talyekiri hid her boat at the base of one of those slopes. One end of the canyon is now open to the sea; the other end is a forest, part of which is now underwater.
A particularly heavy lurch of the riverboat made Talyekiri stagger and fall to one knee, sending a bolt of pain through her stomach. The pain shot through the vestiges of mindless rage, startling her back to the present. She shook her head to clear it, and looked down.
There was blood pooling on the roof of the cabin, dark irregular patches of it, already drying in the hot sun. Her shoulder ached fiercely from a blow that had wrenched it back; the arm just below was bruised and bleeding on the outside. The cut to her other arm stung fiercely, but the bleeding had slowed some. Most of the blood had come from the new, throbbing wound in her stomach, its edges already healing with new, light blue skin. A wound that she barely remembered taking in the heat of her rage. The pain went deep.
Lucky. Talyekiri glanced at Korg, still slumped in the prow, and snarled. An earlier shot had blasted a warped hole in his plate armour, and dragging him down the slope she hadn't been sure if he still breathed. That she'd survived a stomach shot in the boiled leather she wore -luck, the healing effects of berserker rage, or ancestor spirits. Likely all three.
She swayed to her feet, light-headed. The jump down to the deck made her grunt, and she had to grip the wheel to stay upright.
Kiri'aka was at her side in an instant, crooning with worry, nuzzling at her. The raptor licked the bloody wound, and Talyekiri pushed her head away before that rough tongue could do any more damage to her guts. Bad enough without getting raptor spit in there...but it was good to have living company, good to have something else she'd fought for and won.
She looked up to Korg again, and spotted a Needle ahead. The boat wasn't moving as fast as it could, but running into a solid stone pillar would wreck them even at this speed. Sailing through the Thousand Needles was like going through a half-drowned forest, without the leaf-cover. Still leaning heavily on the wheel, she gripped the spokes and turned the boat's nose to the left. That aimed them at the canyon wall, but she'd have time to turn away before hitting that.
The pain was bad, but she'd felt pain before. She ignored it. It would heal, or not, but it wouldn't kill her, not yet. Not like others. Not like maybe -
Talyekiri let go of the wheel, and staggered over to the limp body of her friend.
Korg was lying on his face, with the rent in his backplate exposed and sticky with blood. Talyekiri knelt down beside him and ran strong fingers over his neck through the chink in his armour. For a moment she wasn't sure if she could feel anything. She tipped the helmet sideways a little to let more air in.
A slow, rasping breath, barely there. Talyekiri could have cried aloud in relief.
The wound to his back, though -she looked at it properly for the first time. The metal was sticky with dark blood, the flesh beneath charred and raw, and the bone of the shoulder-blade was barely visible amid the worst of the damage. Too far left to have grazed the backbone. It was an injury that would have killed a human with ease, yet Korg still lived. Her friend was a powerful warrior.
She herself was no healer, though, and, strength or not, a healer was what they both needed. Talyekiri gritted her teeth and leaned against the prow.
She was a druid by choice, yes, and druids could heal. She'd done it herself, before. But she'd become a druid from her love of battle, and years dropping in and out of animal form did not make for a skilled healer. Good or not, though, she had the training.
Water. She'd need water.
Grumbling to herself, Talyekiri closed her eyes and reached out. Setting the spirit apart from the body was the trick to healing, she'd been told. Reaching out to the life that surrounded her did not need her to step out entirely, but she had to weaken the bonds that tied spirit to flesh. Bonds that were stronger than most in a shapeshifter.
Life. Like ancestor spirits, living in the water...
There. Talyekiri bowed her head, and carefully took hold. Her hand reached out to touch the burned wound in Korg's back. I ask...
A surge went through her like a flash flood. She could sense the damage in the flesh. More than that, she could alter it crudely. She could tug clumsily at the edges, moving life back in, ordering muscle and bone to heal.
Talyekiri opened her eyes cautiously. The wound didn't look much better, but she could see that the damage was less than before, and the throbbing in her stomach had lessened.
A skilled healer could have done a better job. Most druids who hadn't nearly abandoned themselves to the tiger could have done a better job, come to that. She'd have to try again later, fix up the muscle so that his arm would work properly, make sure her guts were in order. Still, at least he'd live until later.
And after that...she flexed her hands, imagining claws. After that, who knew?