8/15 The Handprint

Arlei Zanders asks, "--Oh, Garrick needs healing?"
 Arlei Zanders says, "--Because it burns."
 Eshmun Hirai says, "Should."
 Garrick says, "Well."
 Helos Fengari exclaims, "That's... A really good point!"
 Garrick says, "Two parts."
 Arlei Zanders asks, "Lirien, Helos, want to come watch me fix a man?"
 Garrick says, "One, my leg is violently broken."
 Helos Fengari says, "-Oh, uhh."
 Helos Fengari says, "Sure."
 Garrick says, "The second is a bit more serious."
 Helos Fengari exclaims, "Lead the way!"
 James Strider asks, "Oh Mr.Smith is hurt?"
 Arlei Zanders says, "Alright."
 Arlei Zanders says, "Well, off we go~! Stay safe, hun."
 Lirien Zanders says, "Mhm.."
 Arlei Zanders says, "To the clinic."
 Garrick would nod with appreciation to the fellow fire drakan as he ceased gliding, limping with pain into the room on one leg with a bark of pain as he glanced over the room with his glazed, sickly molten eyes. Humming lightly to himself as he bit his lip with anguish, the drake would hop over steadily before lying atop the bed with a grimace, nodding steadily to the pair with a hum of discontent and pain.

"Well doc, let's start with the part that's easier to treat first."

Raising his left leg up with a bark of pain, Garrick would slide the seams of his cotten coat up to reveal that it was bent, broken, and bruised with extremity. It seemed not only to be snapped, but at least partially internally cracked by what appeared to be none other than a combination of the life force sapping of occult and the intense gravitic pressure of gravity magic.
(Garrick)
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 Arlei pinched the bridge of her nose. She was hoping this was just going to be a broken limb, or a cut up chest or something like that.

Should she be so lucky.

The leg was bent in a very peculiar way, though direct impact force didn't seem to be the cause of it. A strange, sickening feeling came from it; occultic energies, just like that of Yu Heifang, a man whose curses she had blown out many years ago. That was going to be a bastard. With the heavy bruising, the man looked like he'd stuck it under a piston press.

"Dare I even ask. . " she grumbled, pulling her face down. She was getting to old for this. She just wanted to spend some time with her kids, damnit!

"Alright, I hope yer' not scared o' needles. Helos, if ya' wanna learn a few things, gimme a hand. Go into the cabinet and withdraw a steel tray. It'll need a hemostat, a retractor, a scalpel, a bag of long pins, a drill and a pre-packed anaesthetic syringe. I make sure its all kept organised, so everythings labelled. Lets get to work." she sighs, reaching into her field pack to withdraw a small box.

The drakanite pulls the thin, clear gloves from the box and places it back into her pocket, slipping the latex onto her hands with a light 'snap.'
(Arlei Zanders)
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 The child winced as his grey eyes rested on the broken leg. Oh boy, that's just... Nasty looking. A frown spread across his face, as he turned to face Arlei glancing over at Arlei, tilting his head to the side as he pondered what they said.

Before quickly nodding!

Without missing a step, the child floated on up into the air, and over towards one of the nearby cabinets, grabbing all the things the Drakanite had asked him to grab. A steel tray, a hemostat, a retractor, a scapel, a bag of long pins, a drill and a pre-packed anaesthetic syringe!

Not that he actually knew what any of these things were, he just kinda grabbed a bunch of stuff, and placed it on the tray, hoping for the best, before handing it over to Arlei.

He was eleven, and oh boy were those things she said long and complicated, but he tried his best.

"I uhh, I think I did it right?" He'd say as glanced up from the tray, and back to Alrei. Thankfully he had actually managed to grab all the right things.

Wow! How lucky!
(Helos Fengari)
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 Garrick would flash Arlei a pained, sharp toothed smile to Arlei with a steady nod as he nodded with a grimace, biting at his lip as he raised it up to an elevated position with a pained hum. Gritting his jagged biters together as he did his best to ignore the immense amount of pain that overtook his person, the fire drake would nod to Arlei with a steady hum as he puffed away steadily at his raggedy cigarette, wiping beads of cold sweat from his forehead with a nod.

"Big ol' occulty tentacle monster. Long story, short answer, it was a complete bitch. Needles ain't nothing, but you're probably gonna still need those tools once you fix my leg. We'll...get to that when it comes to it."

(Garrick)
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 Arlei took the tray from Helos' hands, flashing him a smile. What a good kid! He could read! She should have expected that from a Huangzhou resident though; he was no Gehennan! Spirits, she remembered teaching Inari how to read all those years ago. That was adorable.

"Yep, you got them all! Now watch carefully!" the mother smiled, finishing her small conversation with her beloved daughter-son. It was hard to tell, really.

Arlei placed the metal tray onto the stand she'd screwed onto the bed years ago and removed a small tub of lax essence from her bag. After unscrewing the lid, she took a big dollop of it and rubbed it onto Garricks leg, leaving it for a few moments as it numbed.

"Alright, the injection site has been treated with lax. That'll make the needle entirely painless." she explained, pulling the syringe out of its packet.

"What you want to do here is," she began, pressing the plunger in just a little to remove any air from the syringe. A little anaesthetic leaked out of the tip, which was hastily removed by her flicking the base of the needle with her nail. "Press the plunger in until a little anaesthetic comes out, then use your -nail- to shake the syringe and flick it off. Using your finger or clothes could contaminate the tip. Removing the air will, well, stop you from creating a bubble of air inside of his veins, which could lead to things like strokes, heart attacks and other unwanted nasties."

The ageing woman pressed the needle against the numbed leg of Garrick and slowly slipped it into him, pressing the plunger in slowly. The general anaesthetic flooded from the instrument, pouring through his veins. Slowly but surely, Garrick would feel himself nodding off. With a contented 'Hm!' she removed the syringe from his leg and placed it upon the tray, picking up a scalpel.

"Has everyone got it so far?" she asked, tilting her head as she began to heat up the scalpel rapidly. Sterilisation through fire magic, useful!
(Arlei Zanders)
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 Lirien Zanders says, "Gross."
 Garrick would slowly, steadily drift off into a lull of foggy headed sleep as the anesthetic was progressively injected into his leg, glazed molten eyes flickering open and close with voluntary exhaustion as he instinctively bit his lip from the release of the pain that had plagued him. Yawning steadily, his head would steadily lean back upon the pillow with the start of a progressive snore as he half nodded off, a bubble beginning to appear from his nose in a comical fashion as he felt the overwhelming sense of sleepiness overtake him.

Drifting in and out of consciousness with a steady blink, Garrick would have just enough energy as needle completed its transfusion of sedating agents to flash the noble drakan doctor a clawed thumbs up of appreciation and salutation before his eyes plopped shut with a deep, heavy snore. The scaly smith's arms fell limp as he at long last thoroughly lost consciousness, falling into a deep anesthetic sleep.

Out like a light.
(Garrick)
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 Right, he was told to watch carefully, so that he would! The boy landed carefully onto the ground, as he set his sword down next to him. He had no real use for it right now, so there was no reason to lug it around.

His grey eyes would study Arlei's motions carefully, watching her get to work on repairing the broken limb. Starting off with some Lax essence, to probably dull the pain. That's what that was used for right?

A hand would be brought towards his chin, as he pondered what exactly it was used for, but oh well! He'd figure it out eventually.

Probably!

Though as he watched, his eyes began to get heavy. Turns out, running around the island all day would tire out a kid, who'd a thunk it?

So there he was, in the middle of an operation room sleeping.
(Helos Fengari)
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 Arleis face pulled itself into a thin smile, her eyes closing over as she took a deep sigh, standing there with her damned scalpel in her hand, raised up. The kid she was teaching. .

Had fallen asleep.

Letting out a grumble, she just got to work without a second thought. Rapidly, she slashed into Garricks leg, slapped a retractor into it to keep it open and clamped two hemostats into the wound to crimp the blood vessels. No extra bleeding for him today.

Upon closer inspection, the bone looked to be. . quite crushed. That was going to be irritating; it wasn't as bad as her sisters literally exploded kneecaps, but it was still pretty gruesome to look at.

"Lirry, do you want to learn? Its a bit icky, so I won't push it upon you!" she asked, tilting her head and placing the scalpel back onto the tray.
(Arlei Zanders)
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Arlei Zanders exclaims, "Hey, Ascie~!"
She didn't care to look at it, it didn't mean she wanted to touch it by any means.

Green eyes study the very messed up leg..

"That's pretty gross.. I'll just stay he-- DAD!"

Those eyes shift to her father and suddenly she ignites with an ethereal golden glow.

"I can glow now!"
(Lirien Zanders)
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 Ascalon Zanders says, "Arly wha- Lirien you've latched onto a star for power. Good job, harness it."
 Garrick was still thoroughly unconscious, a perk of the immense amount of anesthetic that had put down the fire drakan without much intervention. A steady bubble would rise and fall above his draconic snout as he huffed steadily, oblivious to the pangs of pain, surgery, and general occultic prodding that flushed about his person with violence. In truth, it was thoroughly beneficial that he was entirely out, for this would probably hurt even more if he was a awake.

As luck would have it, Arlei would find the drakan resilient as they come, no unnecessary breaks or pains coming from the surgical process.
(Garrick)
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Arlei hit Ascalon with a warm gaze as he walked in, though she couldn't divert much attention to her beloved at the current moment, considering she had a patient on the table with an open leg.

"Tha's quite alright, Lirry!" she chimed, reaching into her bag to remove a pair of tweezers. A wash of heat rose from her fingers and passed into the metal, sterilizing them before she drained the heat back into her hand.

Leaning in closer, she jabbed the tweezers into the open wound and began to extract chunks of bone, pulling the bloody pieces out and dropping them into a little indent in the tray. Quite nasty!

Once they were out though, she took a good look at the bone. Great. The breaks were relatively even, but there were a good few of them.

With another grumble, Arlei reached into her rucksack and removed the remains of a mithril kit, rooting around inside of it for the parts she needed. It was always good to keep kit remnants on hand for something like this.

After a few moments, she got what she needed. A set of mithril bars with holes set into them at various places. Her slitted, viridian eyes examined the bones in the leg carefully, then moved back to the bars. Humming a soft song to herself, her fingers reached into the bag of pins and began to slide them in, building a 'gantry' of sorts to both guide new bone growth and support him whilst said bones were growing.

Still humming, she reached into him, aligning the gantry as carefully as she could to allow full movement. A few moments later, using newly-learned gravity magic, a bunch of pins flew into her hands. One by one, she drove the pins into his bone, through the gantry like screws, securing it tightly in place. It wasn't going to move anytime soon.

Pulling herself out of there, she removed the retractor and hemostats, letting the wound close over slightly. Her eyes squinted towards the sleeping Drakanite. He looked like a hardy man. He wouldn't need stitches for this, she could just rush it.

Holding the leg together, a thin blue flame sparked up at the edge of her finger, looking more like a blowtorch than anything. Quickly yet carefully, she ran the finger along the wound, burning it closed.

"Alright, tha's that one done. Now for the occultic energies."

Closing her eyes over, she placed a hand on the leg and let her senses delve deep into the wound, discovering little pockets of occultic energy that kept burning through the wound. Nothing major, just remnants that had somewhat faded over the time he'd been roaming around without treatment. Concentrating thoroughly, her own energies rushed through her hands and into the Drakanite, clashing voraciously against the occultic forces. They scintillated the pockets like needles, tearing them apart and dispersing them over the course of two minutes. It wasn't anything major; she'd done this multiple times before. Declans occultic cancer was the worst thing she'd had to deal with on that side of things.

Stepping backwards, she invited Ascalon to examine the patient.

"He had another injury. More serious. I'll get a new kit, you might need it~!" she chirped, blowing a kiss at him as she poofed out of the room for a few moments.

Yeah, she was ditching Garrick unto the Oscuri.
(Arlei Zanders)
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Watched as his wife went to work, idly the man wondered what the hell had happened to this Drakan. Though he supposed they'd just gotten into a fight that was beyond them. Not all to uncommon upon Agartha.

Emerald hues lingered upon Arlei was she worked. Always impressed by her skill at mending the flesh of others. Though she'd mentioned another injury which was more serious. Considering the horrendous damages she's just healed what could be more serious?
(Ascalon Zanders)
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 Garrick was still out cold, the realignment of his occultic, gravitically shattered bones already an immense amount of relief brought upon drakan's expression. The sickly pallour of his skin would flush just a bit more with color, the cold beads of sweats pouring down his face in a steady stream as bit by bit the structural damage was repaired by the surgical efforts of Arlei. Yet, no matter how well cleaned the leg wound was purged, regardless of how perfect the reassembly of the drakan's leg had gone, it seemed that the paleness that plagued his form did not dissipate.

Something else was wrong.

As the navy cotton coat and silvery cuirass were stripped from the fire drake's sweat soaked torso, the full extent of the smith's concealed injuries were presented to the room at large. From the center of his torso spreading out wide, black spiderwebs of scorched veins and occultic scarring danced across the entirety of the drakan's body and form. His tan skin was pale white, the black lines tracing across every inch of the drakan's flesh from the center out. There seemed to be no end to the mass of spider webbed scarring, the corrupted blood vessels actively being sapped of life essence by the excess darkness that surged through the smith's body.

Worst of all, the emerald scales that lined the drakan's form were lined with deep cracks, black flames seeming to leak from them like a sickly, molten ooze of occultic fire. Glowing hot, ever burning, and draining away at the constitution of the fire drakan bit by bit.
(Garrick)
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Ascalon took a long look upon the Drakan's body. This was one of the more potent Occultic curses they'd ever seen. The Oscuri took their time looking across the wound as their gaze trailed from the start of the injury to it's very periphery.

Taking some time to look upon the black flames that seemed to leak from between the man's scales. It seemed that whatever had hit the man had done mostly raw damage at first. However, their appeared to be some type of fiery withering spell upon it as well.

The Oscuri didn't have an immediate answer to these issues. For a short time they'd think over the wound. Contemplating how to go about fixing the curse. If they had a connection holy magics that would have made healing the wound easier.

Though they had something that was increasingly becoming unseen upon Agartah. Raw, undiluted, reika and the skill to manipulate it upon the finest of levels. The Oscuri raised their right hand. The limb was covered in olden scars from countless battles in which it'd been the target.

Their hand began to clow as it was coated in reika. The super-charged mana twirling about their digits. Floating up to the downed warrior they'd wait for just a moment. Before planting their hand upon the epicenter of the occultic curse.

They'd grunt as they pushed a pulse of reika into the Drakan's form. The reika immediately rushed through the Drakan's mana-network. Hurtling through it like a great deluge from the point of contact. As it passed through each node of mana it'd cause said node to reset. Closing down for but a few second before re-opening.

The effect this had upon the man's mana-network was two found. The first effect would be the lingering burning sensation that'd scrub the networks clean. The Reika obliterating the foreign occultisism as it rushed through the man. Not unlike when you dumped draino in a clogged rain.

The second effect would be the sudden and intense invigoration of the man's body. The nodes freshly expanded by the rushing reika would find the man's natural mana coming through him in a great rush. Heightening the Drakan's natural healing factor. This might have the effect of waking the Drakan upon.

As their reika ran it's course they'd take a step back. The only sign of their actions was a faintly glowing palm-print upon the man's chest. Some of the web-lines closest to the palm took on a green glow as well. Those further away began to heal quickly.

"Done, not a touch of Occultism could have survived that. He might not either but..." As he spoke he'd shake his hand out the digits stiff from administering so much reika. "... It was a risk I was willing to take."
(Ascalon Zanders)
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 The fire drakan might have been lucky enough to remain unconscious throughout the whole process, but that didn't mean his body wasn't going to react to the energy of a different god pulsating through his mana circuits. As reika was flushed forth with violence into his system, Garrick would find his body wracked with agonizing pain as his own Ryujinite blessed energy surged against the influx of purging reika, the scaly smiths teeth gritting instinctively with agonizing pain as he groaned with innate, reactionary displeasure.

Node by node, the emerald energy would force its way through the nodes of corrupted circuitry that web of occultic taint had spread across his body. Searing pain agitated the surrounding nerves as, much like a cleansing flame burning away the rot with brilliant light, Ascalon's emerald energy would flush out the corruption with the mana equivalent of practical rubbing alcohol to a non-Oscuri. The burning reika surged like a raging current through the fire drakan's form, ensuring that bit by bit every ounce of remnant occultism was banished from his draconic form.

At last, the rejuvenation would come however, the cleanly soap after the scourging of darkness. The black spiderwebs would dull, the shadowy flames dissipating into the remnant cracks that spread about Garrick's scales as he bit his lip once more in half consciousness. Molten eyes steadily flickering open, the glaze that appeared to obscure their former glow seemed to at last be lifted, the glowing handprint of the Oscuri remaining with only minor agitation upon Garrick's chest.

The fire drakan would raise his head slowly, sorely, and scan his torso with a degree of curiosity. The spiderwebs no longer seemed quite so visible in the face of the green glow, and the exhausted drake would flash a toothy smile of appreciation as he nodded to Ascalon and Arlei both.

"You...have my thanks. Helluva thing, Ilyothan experiments. Pack a real punch. I'm....gonna get some fresh air."

(Garrick)

Fresh air. Were it so easy.

Stumbling out of the clinic at the foot of the volcano in a daze, Garrick would clutch his head between his claws as his mind tried to make sense of the wrongness that pervaded his consciousness. The drake had never been the most godly man in spite of his youth in the monastery, oft he'd feared his lack of devout faith was why he'd failed to achieve the lauded "half-shift" so many drakans flaunted gaudily upon the island.

Yet, for all his cynicism, there had always been a sense in the back of his mind that Ryujin's warmth was upon him, if distant and judging like a disappointed father. Garrick felt that if he'd finally found true devotion in his faith and spirit, some wonder that ignited his passion for the divines, that at last his father would smile down upon him with the warmth of a familial home and hearth. The drake would at last be a true dragon, and nothing would be able to stop him.

Yet, as thecracked scaled smith approached the edge of the igneous rim and stared down upon the bubbling lava below, emerald reika crackling steadily upon his breast with each shaky inhalation, a curious sensation fell across the drake that made him sick to his stomach. A strange sense of overpowering doubt that exuded from the cocktail of remnant occultism and Azraelite energy that had become the price of his sacrifice.

He felt cold. As if his divine father had at last turned his back on a disappointment. The warmth of his gaze upon the drake's back was gone, and he felt so terribly alone. So dreadfully cold.

As if by a primal fear of freezing that went soul deep, the fire drakan would leap from the rim with a plunging dive down towards molten rock, not a moment of regret or thought allowed as after but a few seconds he splashed down, sinking low into the lava in a barely conscious, foggy daze until he was completely submerged, head and all, in overpowering heat.

The drake sunk deep, and in that moment felt that he would die. Weakened from the surgery and his wounds, his arms limp as wet noodles by his sides, there was little he could do but accept the fate of submerging with the barest attention as his thoughts flickered dully. All was magma, the immense weight and supper heated pressure that that engulfed the fire drakan's form was all that he was, could experience, could sense. Barely capable of moving a muscle in the sea of molten rock, Garrick briefly considered just accepting his slow sinking into the igneous abyss. His god had abaonded him, the woman he loved wanted nothing to do with him. Perhaps melting into nothing was a merciful fate.

He was just a newt, after all.

Yet, as Garrick shut his eyes tight, he did not visualize darkness. Lei Jin's face stared back at him, half a blackened skull with flesh sloughed from his youthful, idealistic features like warm, rotten butter. The once-regent stared right through him, his charred lips mouthing silent words that trang thunderously within the drake's pounding head.

"Do you remember me, buddy?"

And then, all Garrick could see was the flame. Boiling fury coursed through his shattered body as his lungs screeched with agonizing stimulus for air. Claws tore upwards through the thick, glowing hot slag blindly with no desire by the desperate urge to live on and achieve vengeance for his lost friend. The cold he felt was banished by the flames of overwhelming hatred, the virulent urge to use all the energy he had left to strangle and burn to ash all those that had allowed his friend to be murdered without lifting a finger.

As the fire drakan's will to live was reforged not in loive, but in vengeful hatred, each aching thrust of his muscles through the molten rock would burn deep against the occultic cracks that spread across his musculature. The pain of the immense heat purified him in rage, banished the weakness and pitiful nature he'd taken upon himself in his lowest moment and replacing it with the coils of unquenched, unsupressed lust for vengeance. After fighting it for so long, Garrick at last gave in completely; soul, body, and all to the flame.

It was a good pain.

At last, his claws would poke up from the molten lava and plunge into the inner bedrock the lined one of the volcanic rims, wild inhalations of fresh air following shortly after as adrenaline shook his thumping heart ragged beat by beat. Molten lava dripped from his frame as it seared over his cracked emerald scales and scar tissue, the heat almost like a warm embrace his the fire drakan's molten eyes glanced up towards the night sky with renewed determination. Claw by claw, he would drag himself upwards to the edge of the volcano, jagged rows of teeth gritting with fury as he pulled himself steadily from the jaws of death.

He could not die while his best friend went unavenged, while he was still WEAK and incapable of doing the deed himself.

He could not fall when he had not found his wings.
(Garrick)