Working with a demon over his shoulder

[20:06] Alvi stumbles into Crafthold, steps irregular and strained. Fumbling on their feet, the undead falls against the stone wall of the tower and accidentally smears it in a thick, black ichor from their right arm. Clutching the limp limb tightly, they were doing all they could to keep it steady lest it fall off. The only thing keeping it attached were a few thick strands of cloth and dead flesh, and even that was slowly peeling away. Moving towards the chair next to Ohtli, they merely slump against it with a heavy groan.

"B-Blacksmith, please..."
(Alvi Slade)
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[20:07] Just as the Drakan is about to thank him for the refill of a cup of tea, she fumbles with it. The whole thing nearly gets spilled as she fumbles with it awkwardly between two prosthetic hands.

The sight of the young horned woman unhorses her.

"Dalia, it's good to see you, are you-"

And then so does Alvi's condition.

She suddenly and -immediately- feels deeply conflicted.

"I don't know if we have any awake...What happened?"

When it rains....
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[20:08] Leoda asks, "Wait... Sugarboy?"
[20:08] Sugarboy says, "Oh, sup Leoda"
[20:09] Leoda asks, "It's been a while! How've you been?"
[20:09] Sugarboy casts a glance over to the clearly injured Alvi
(Sugarboy)
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[20:09] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "There is no smith...but there is a medic here, I suppose. If that could help you."
[20:09] Sugarboy says, "I'm not a black smith, but yeah, I can doctor ya up"
[20:11] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "-Please, feel free to use the clinic east of here."
[20:11] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "It should have most things you'll need."
[20:15] "I made a terrible mistake," was all the response they gave Ohtli with a slow shake of their head. The flesh around their wound was dead and peeling, something an experienced medic could finger as being caused by plasma or energy burns.

As the medic approaches, Alvi gives another shake of their head. A few band-aids and maybe some stitches weren't going to fix this one. Possibly even more so for other reasons.

"Undead..." they rasp. "...I don't think you can be much help for me."
(Alvi Slade)
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[20:17] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "-Spirits, he can maybe at least stop you...I don't know. Leaking."
[20:18] Ohtli Tezcacoatl says, "Right. Ah. Don't be afraid to say goodbye before you go for good. "
[20:18] Ohtli glances back and forth between the trainwreck at her right and the departing woman in front of her. Whew lad.
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)

[20:24] The doctor would hobbly over, taking a knee and resting an arm on his wooden appendage as he scratched his chin, inspecting the undead.

"Well, I did half of my medical training in Dawn under my lady, Nihilexia Wright, had access to many undead and patched up a few of their own.." He'd go on to explain some of his experience.

"Your flesh won't mend it's own, but.. I reckon I could scavenge enough to patch you up- if you don't mind me trying." Ocean blue eyes would look up to Alvi with a kind smile.

The first thing that came to his mind was a story of a Dawn physician using rat carcasses to replace muscle tissue, there should be plenty on one of the ships in port, Boar were also plentiful around, and could be a suitable substitute.

It had been well over a decade since he had done any work on an undead, but he was confidant he could manage, more so wanting to help. He had just mentioned to Ohtli how he hated being useless when other were hurt, it was his drive to learn medicine.
(Sugarboy)
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[20:24] Eiphraem Kang whispers something.
[20:26] Yue Lai whispers something.
[20:27] Eiphraem Kang whispers something.
[20:27] For all of half a second the Drakan's expression breaks into clear and plain distress for some reason. Or many reasons. She takes a deep lungful of air, composes herself, and as quickly as it arrived it vanishes.

Now there's only those brief undertones of inner conflict as she looks to the undead man next to her.

"...Should we at least lie you down? Until we can get a smith to see you. I don't know how you work."

It sounds so callous after she says it, but a little late to take it back now.

"The clinic should still be free. Dawn might have a smith if no one else here is awake."
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[20:28] Eiphraem Kang whispers something.
[20:28] Yue Lai whispers something.
[20:30] Eiphraem clears his throat.

"One moment, Yue. Though, I do not think that is the case. What is a planet, without such lifeforms? And surely, it would recover, or a pocket, to be recreated again."

"I cannot believe that destruction is an appropriate ending," His voice is loud enough to be heard as he potentially slides out of earshot- Though he beckons the silver-haired, aging kitsune of Crafthold to follow him as he slides along the grass, leaving dew-covered blades in his wake, headed towards the three.

He holds up a finger- Not saying anything immediately; but making his presence, and desire to interject, known.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[20:30] Sugarboy Stands to his feet and steps back to give the demon his attention.
(Sugarboy)
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[20:33] Eiphraem Kang says, "Ah- My apologies. I did not mean to interrupt- You are correct. We would likely require some form of transplantable flesh in most cases- But, I could attempt to take a sample of Alvi's form, and work on a restorative that would give you some malleability with repairs..."
[20:33] "Would be easier to just... Remove the arm," Alvi opined. Their arm was literally hanging by a few strands of dead flesh. Even if it could be salvaged, the mana circuits were most likely damaged beyond repair. Any attempts to channel mana through that arm would no doubt fail.

"I can't stand to be in Dawn right now..." Alvi explains, lurching forward in their chair to sit upright on Eiphraem's approach. "No doubt they're... Celebrating what they-... We did."

The witch's gaze flickers from Eiphraem over to glare at Salvas. Without thinking, Alvi tries to raise their dominant right arm. As weight is applied to the arm, bones snap and flesh tears as the entire thing nearly comes loose again in a spray of black, viscous ichor.

"I'd rather die before that... Vampiric filth touches me."
(Alvi Slade)
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[20:34] Eiphraem Kang says, "I do have appropriate supplies in the tower and clinic- Undead may lack for natural ability to recover, but manually injected and forced to absorb the mixture..."
[20:36] Well. She tried. The Archon's approach is difficult not to notice. As he slithers towards the undead, with solutions no less, she takes a step back and mutters something. Drifting thoughts, prayers. Catechisms?
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[20:38] The blonde would stroke his chin as he offered a curious grin to what the Archon was offering. Sugarboy knew this was the Eiphraem he has heard so much about in his youth. He was warned to stay away at all cost, but he was older and a little wiser now, and the mention of restorative piqued his interest.

"It sounds as if the patient would prefer a prosthetic- if you have one available I will be more than happy to attach it. Although afterwards I would love to check out the process you would've used.. Are you an alchemist as well?"
(Sugarboy)
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[20:44] "Mm." It's a vague assurance, as the serpent dips his head. "I am certain I could go within and see if we have medical tools, and supplies- But, I am certain that if we- Hm. I suppose it could end up interfering with his preservatives if we attempted to even briefly restart his vital processes."

"Alvi, that particular one is mostly fine. Please relax, and- Ideally, if possible, a full explanation of events would assist."

His voice is an even, slow if high in pitch baritone echoed softly from gills at his neck in a countertenor that rings out, quietly.

"He is somewhat dissimilar from Perseus- My knight still possessed... A functional, technically alive body, even if his soul was still barely bound and severed."

"Apologies, Alvi," The slit-eyed serpent dips his head, Hands unfortunately too large go to his satchel, as he pulls out the key. "I believe a medicae trained in Dawn would be more apt to know how to repair you than myself. I am certain we do not need to remove it entirely- We can stint and reinforce it."

"My apologies, I do not have your name," Lyrically placed words go fluted with a questioning note, as his gaze goes back to the blond! "I can likely bring supplies Iosefi keeps down for this task, if you feel comfortable. Will you need anything else? Crafthold does have... A surplus of supplies."

"Anything you might need, I believe I can obtain."
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[20:48] Ohtli begins to slowly extricate herself, heading back towards the tower. "Right. I'll be on the transceiver. Excuse me."
(Ohtli Tezcacoatl)
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[20:50] The doctor would place a hand on his chest and bow his head, showing the Archon all due respect before introducing himself. "My name is Sugarboy, head doctor of the Tecotchitlan Hospital. I carry an extensive kit on my as well, so if you could find me a prosthetic arm, I could salvage the parts I need from it to repair the arm as needed, thank you." Raising his head again, he'd remember how most people found his name unusual, and he'd offer a small chuckle.

"And yes, that's my actual name."
(Sugarboy)
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[20:54] He pauses, for a moment. Then, he nods. "... That clarification was necessary. My apologies. I can sometimes be oblivious to sarcasm, and it sounded somewhat similar to that mode of communication."

The demon sounds absolutely serious, his expression remaining as inflappable as his head bobs amicably enough.

He pivots on his waist, silvery scales glossy in the light as he reorients his lower body to head into the tower- A single twisted, oversized, black-claw tipped finger raising as though to beg a pause.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[20:59] It doesn't take him long at all! He's barely gone for a minute and a half or so, before he's down with a stamped and sealed, length-wise crate. He plops it down onto the grass with a certain lack of fanfare- Claws dig in where a prybar would ordinarily needed, and with a flex of muscle-

It pops open.

A filigreed, pre-prepared metal arm, designed primarily for form over battle capabilities. Iosefka's work might be somewhat obvious to the locals, a mythril arm pre-prepared for attachment and use.

It's polished, almost unsullied, though the slight amount of soft, mothball smell would hint that this particular piece has been shelved for an extended period of time.

A few soft, fluttery notes emerge from his gills and nose, hummed bars as he carefully twists out nails to clear Sugarboy's access-

And a small array of screwdrivers, a small mechanic's wrench almost the size of a finger, and tweezers in a leather forgeworker's belt are laid out onto the cloth packing about the limb.

"Sufficient?"
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[21:01] {Item} You picked up Mythril Trauma Kit. Dropped by Eiphraem Kang. .
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[21:02] Alvi nods slowly as the prosthetic arm is revealed. While what Eiphraem suggested was possible - a few skin grafts here, a bit of metal to connect the flesh and replace charred bone there - the undead merely shook their head to themselves at such a recommendation. For reasons they kept to themselves for the moment, they'd rather just do away with the arm completely in favor of a full prosthetic.
(Alvi Slade)
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[21:04] Eiphraem Kang says, "Ah- We will likely need another spare, admittedly, but I am always delighted to ensure supplies are reaching those most in need."
[21:12] His eyes would light up as he marveled at the piece. It was a much higher quality one than anything that was crafted in Gehenna, to be expected, of course. Kilarii was a master blacksmith, but she lacked the finesse of Crafthold's finest artisans.

A simple nod would be offered to Eiphraem, "Very, I'm going to feel bad having to take it apart." He'd admit as he hobbled his way back over to the injured, kneeling again before them.

He'd set the prosthetic and the kit it came with to one side of him as he pulled out his own tacklebox of equipment. If Ohtli was around, she'd recognize it as the same one he carried almost twenty years ago. Although it carried more implements for healing than fishing these days.

Sugarboy's mana would take hold of the decayed and blackened blood that coursed through Alvi's body, lifting and suspending it before him so he could inspect it closer. It did appear that parts of the bone had been charred and need removing, large areas of muscle turned to ash.

He'd poke his tongue through his cheek as he looked up to Alvi. "If you still prefer- I could just give you the full arm." Perhaps he wouldn't have to commit the sin of taking apart such a beautiful specimen that the prosthetic was.
(Sugarboy)
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[21:16] Alvi's gaze is drawn from the prosthetic limb to Ramsey. Did he just say Huangzhou?

"I'll be fine," they grumble out. Casting a glance at their useless arm, they supposed they wouldn't be needing it for very long. They were tempted to just rip it off, but doing so in the middle of Crafthold might just upset some casual observers.

Actually, what the hell. At best they could maybe find some amusement in the situation - if at the expense of others.

Gripping their forearm tightly, the witch carefully tugs on their sleeve to free their arm through the gaping hole, having to push the limp appendage through it with their free hand. While they weren't willing to save the arm, they were at least willing to save the cloth. That could be stitched over, of course.

Leaving their arm free and bare, the magi got to work carefully tugging off the elbow glove that had luckily survived the energy blast as most of the damage was concentrated in their bicep. Removing the glove revealed that not every was as peachy the lower they went, though. The flesh around their hand had long since been burned and flayed off in favor of having an arm ending in a spindly, boney claw.

The medic's words gave Alvi pause just as they were about to simply tear the entire limb free from the few strands of flesh keeping it attached.

In the midst of the silence, another arterial spray of non-descript black ichor squirted forth.

"Uhh..."
(Alvi Slade)
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[21:22] Eiphraem reads the body language, almost before it becomes anything Alvi might intend as a reality.

He's there. His hand covers that shoulder, in spite of any charred bits of flesh or bile-like, coagulated and deoxidized blood might cling.

"Please do not amputate anything unnecessary. I am detecting that it would be inefficient for an undead, as I am certain you know their soul is tied primarily through attachments to their flesh. I am not sure if this idea from some form of distaste and disgust in regards to whatever events have occurred..."

"But, I apologize, Alvi. I am going to over-ride your preference on the matter. It would be to your detriment to avoid requesting that you do not permit as much of your flesh preserved as possible."

The serpent speaks calmly, almost coldly with that unwavering, flowing tones that barely vary in term of emotional output. His slitted eyes stare with that same placid, stolid expression, though his head tilts.

It makes reading deeper into it difficult, but his earfins are cupped forwards, as his cold grasp lands on the witch's good hand, dwarfing it.

"Please. Proceed. You will cooperate and not sabotage this, correct, Alvi?" It descends into barely above a whisper. "We can converse once you are no longer feeling the discomfort."

When Ulyssa speaks, however, his earfins bend backwards once more, though he stares at the undead determinedly until he has a reply.

"Shizuko. Your offer is appreciated. As is your help and contribution, Ramsey. I wouldn't want to seize needlessly from either of you, however- I am certain if someone is here when we do not have myself on hand, those will certainly potentially save lives."

"I can have Iosefi create another to replace it. We have a full set of limbs, but I am certain she can create another mirror from the set of this limb's sibling."

"Ulyssa, I will be with you momentarily." He doesn't skip a beat- It's potentially unnerving the way he simply keeps speaking, likely over others responding to him already. It's an almost mechanical reply.
(Eiphraem Kang)
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[21:28] Alvi heaves a raspy sigh. There were very few people in the world that Alvi could say no to, and only Eiphraem had that distinction through the undead's own volition, rather than any binding magics keeping them alive. Of course, the Archon always had a keener eye for these sorts of things than they.

"...Fine," Alvi mumbles, not unlike an ashamed and scolded child. Their capable hand lets go of the other and falls limp on their lap.

"If that's what you wish, Lord Eiphraem."

While being undead came with it the benefit of not being in agonizing, blinding pain when your arm was hanging by a thread, it certainly wasn't comforting at all. Every movement felt like a small electrical charge reverberating through their tiny body. Something to do with their damaged mana circuits, most likely.

Glancing over at the medic, Alvi patiently shifts and waitsfor Sugarboy to begin his work.
(Alvi Slade)
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[21:34] Relief doesn't spread along unmoved features, but instead along the force of that palm to countermand Alvi's own autonomy. He doesn't let go immediately, but the pressure eases, blackened claws no longer pushing against stiff remnants of skin, giving a more tender, easygoing squeezes for a moment. An exhalation makes the almost invisible tenseness ebb.

"... Thank you." His head leans in, almost touching forehead to forehead to murmur it RIGHT in Alvi's face, with half lidded eyes. "Your wellbeing is above important, you know. Please. You are worth valuing."

When he lets go, it's VERY carefully to avoid being the clumsy jackass who just made a big fuss about this, only to butterfingers with demonic claws and unnatural mitts to tear it off.

Really, let's not make the day worse, here.

It'd be beyond embarrassing. His pupils become thin slits, for long moments, as he veeeeery slowly moves his hand away, sort of turning with it robotically. That blackened ichor clings, and for the time being, he makes no seeming register of being disgusted by the smell or sight as it gets slightly under his twisted nails.

"My apologies, Sugarboy. Please, proceed, I am sorry to have gotten in the way."

His head dips, and he turns.

His eyes briefly land upon Leon, and eyes might meet for a moment-

But only that.

If not stopped, the beast would try to orient towards Ulyssa.


(Eiphraem Kang)
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[21:50] It seems a decision had been made. As Alvi and Eiphraem went back and forth, Sugarboy was already quick at work disassembling the mithril arm. Wires coiled to mimic muscle were removed to reveal the mithril core that would simulate bone were disconnected.

He'd meticulously lay out each individual component, organizing what he would use and what could be reused for another arm. The doctor would stop half way through to administer an anesthetic to Alvi. Concentrated soothing reed oil, it would offer the full body relief the undead so desperately needed. Once injected, he would use his blood magic to expedite the amount of time it took to take affect, as well as stop the bleeding from the arm.

"Oh, no problem at all, Lord Eiphraem. You've been more than helpful." He'd say turning his head to the archon with a smile. If he was being honest with himself, he was a bit nervous with the crowd that had amassed to watch, but he would eagerly be ready to turn back to the undead. The surgery and focusing on the array of magics he had would be more than an ample distraction to take away from his performance anxiety.

He'd begin by stripped away the muscle from the damaged bone. Eiphraem was absolutely correct when he said that maintaining as much of the original body of an undead was vital for their survival. The mithril rod that was salvaged from the prosthetic would be cut along the length of it with a small jet of fire, revealing that it was hollow. Sugarboy would wrap the casing wound the length of Alvi's bone before he closed it and welded it shut, cooling it with his water magic so he could move on to the next step.

The coils would be crimped to muscle, wrapping it around the bone before he cauterized the connections shut. Orichalcum wires connected to nerve endings that would carry commands from the brain to her fingers and provide some sensation to the limb.

The doctor would finish by stretching the skin over the exposed innerds of her arm, suturing it into place before playing plates of mithril over the expanses that had gone missing. A snap of his finger and the small torch of fire would return to cauterize the plates to flesh, marrying skin and metal. After a time consuming process, the operation would be complete with Sugarboy having to remove minimal amounts of the undead's flesh and tissue.

"There ya go, miss." He'd open his mouth to give the standard doctor shpeel, as became a ritual for him since he hadn't worked on an undead in a decade, but he'd quickly remember they didn't have a recovery period, and he'd instead say, "Have a good one and stay safe." A smile and a nod and he would stand on his foot and pegleg, leaning on his staff for support.
(Sugarboy)
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[22:02] Sugarboy says, "Oh, nothing! I don't charge for providing medical asistance."
[22:02] Sugarboy says, "My service to the people~"
[22:09] Sugarboy asks, "Anyway, so can I get your name, stranger?"
[22:09] Alvi gingerly taps at the metal plating on their arm.

"Lord Alvi Slade... Although I'm not much of a lord of anything. I just keep the title."
(Alvi Slade)
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[22:13] A grin would stretch across the doctor's face, "Well, it's an honor to meet you, Lord Alvi Slade. I hope next time we meet is under happier, healthier circumstances." Turning, he'd scan the square, cursing under his breath.

"Truthfully I came to crafthold looking for another doctor myself.. Can't quite replace my own leg." He'd say knocking against the wooden pegleg that replaced his left.

"Anyway, Gehenna is probably falling apart without me.. Take it easy fam!" He'd say with a wave as he managed his best saunter with one good leg.
(Sugarboy)
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