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[Redcoat]

The small creatures recoiled at Telchi's dramatic entrance. He had knocked one down on his way in, and the entire group appeared ready to either run away or lash out with vicious force. Their fear was uncharacteristic of warriors, which they very much appeared to be; indeed, they seemed easily scared, in stark contrast to their professional entrance. Something was up; they clearly did not see Marketta as any old animal or monster.

In the dirt, a quick message was written. It was clear that this individual--clearly an "officer", in whatever sense of the word could be applied to his society--did not want to fight.

Ie em Uxigul. The name was almost unreadable and the text somewhat warped; clearly the script that these individuals used was merely descended from Mo'phai, not identical to it. Hoo and whut are yiu? Whut brengs yiu tiw oos?

About the camp, his comrades awaited his signal for what to do next. Unlike their comrades, they had not been impressed by direct contact; they kept back, cautious but unafraid--and deliberately invisible inside of their forest home.

[Chef]

Grimlain watched the whole scene occur before his eyes, wishing he hadn't throw his sword on the ground.  He wasn't sure if their case was lost of not, now.  It almost seemed that these creatures were afraid of them, so they could possibly use that to their advantage for now...  At least they would hesitate before performing an all out attack if they somewhat feared the party.

Grimlain looked over at Marketta now, slightly nervous.  She appeared to still be trying to communicate with those strange things, trying to make them forget about the little impression Telchi made as he jumped into the fray, thinking they were in deeper trouble.

"What are they saying?" Grimlain asked Marketta, trying not to be too obvious.  He wanted to try and help her with what to say, but couldn't come up with anything that wasn't intimidating.  If it was his choice, he'd tell them they were almighty gods from a long lost world that would become wrathful if they didn't leave them be.  Grimlain grinned at the thought.  In his opinion, seeing that reaction would be quite hilarious if it went the way he pictured it to go in his mind.  Grimlain shook this thought quickly and returned to the task at hand.  Hopefully these... things didn't take their messages the wrong way, or they would be in trouble.

[Lyon]

Telchi had lowered his blades after Marketta struck him, but he kept them in his hands nonetheless. He could feel the dull ache of a bruise rising on his cheekbone, but he ignored the pain. He'd been hurt worse. Right now he only hoped that Marketta could recover the situation. Her anger at him had been justified, even if she had overreacted...

What was I thinking? he wondered. I hope this is over with quickly... I have no idea what they're going on about. I don't think I can handle this terrible waiting much longer... I'm afraid I shall snap...

[Durandal]

Marketta was surprised by their reactions, but was grateful that bloodshed did not occur. Reading the leader's response, she turned to Grimlain and replied "They're asking who and what are we, and what we are here for. I'll tell them the truth." Giving him a reassuring smile, she began to write out Mo'phai in the best way she could, so that it was understandable to the creatures. As she finished, it read something like "We are Humans, travelers to be exact. We come to these lands to collect an ancient treasure, one to halt a great evil from destroying the world. We will need your help to locate this shrine, and the broken shard inside. If you agree to help us, we will be one step closer to stopping this great evil." After this, however, was a description of what exactly the shrine they were looking for was, and their current predicament. It was a long string of information, but it would pay off.

She hoped that if they were aware of their goals, they would not be alarmed by their taking of whatever ancient artifact they were here to acquire. Right now, she worried for Thalmir - every fleeting second spent saving their own lives was another second of agony, and step closer to death. In her explanation she told of a dying member of their party. Hopefully this could explain their hurry, and the reason for taking the herbs. Possibly, it could help rush the diplomacy so that they could continue onwards, herbs in tow. All they could do now, however, was wait and hope.

Edited by Durandal, 14 November 2010 - 11:11 PM.

[Redcoat]

The creature, in his curious way, stepped back for a moment, obviously in thought. He squawked a bit, speaking to his comrades for a moment; much ado was had about the matter, with several making motions suggesting her unconventional ears as the object of discussion. After a few more squawks, an affirmative was written. Marketta, however, would notice the way in which he wrote it; an extra couple of lines indicated that the word was simultaneously an honourific and pledge of allegiance reserved for religious texts! These creatures did not at all have an accurate perception of the party, it seemed; a fact a shrewd leader could use to their advantage.

"Orders, ma'am?" the Urrite asked through its script.

[Durandal]

Marketta was rather awestruck, and mildly embarrassed, by the new species' reaction. Noticing some of them point towards her ears, she could feel herself slightly blush - her ears, in being different, seemed to actually help improve relations with their and this species. Smirking, she responded back to the creatures, explaining that they needed to follow them back to the camp, so that the party could treat its wounded member, to which the creatures would return to their own camp for rest. After rest, the two parties would meet and continue onward in seeking out the structure that was the temple described. Once she finished this long strip of explanation, she added a short yet sweet "Follow me." to the end, cleaning and replacing the crossbow bolt that served as a delicate alternative to ink and paper. waving to Grimlain and Telchi to follow, they left for the new camp.

After a rather quiet quarter hour or so slowly lurched onwards, they were once again with the others. Before she went over to Thalmir and the others, she announced her findings "Don't be afraid, we've found natives. They are our new allies for the time beings, and guides to the temple. I've told them that they can help defend this position from any lurking predators while we attend to Thalmir, and once we go to rest, they will leave for their home." finishing, she walked over to Thalmir, Anikus, and S'ven, laying down the herbs found next to them. "I also found a grove full of these herbs. I took as much as possibly necessary."

Edited by Durandal, 22 November 2010 - 09:54 PM.

[Redcoat]

Anikus, his preparations for surgery now complete, looked upon the creatures in amazement.

"Urrites!" he cried, a smile extending over his face. He took the herbs from Marketta, nodding in thanks. "And I thought the Gods had utterly abandoned us. Perhaps there is hope for Thalmir after all. Quickly now, there is no time to waste."

He turned to S'ven, nodding in cold, dispassionate certainty. They would begin their surgery now, consisting of one part exploration and one part temporary repair. Anikus almost had to laugh at the folly of their efforts, necessary as they were. If it succeeded, it would be a miracle. He might have even considered believing in the Gods again. But regardless of their chances, it had to be done. The other choice was losing a party member; and the scholar's conscience could have none of that. It was his duty, will of the Crown or not, to get these useful, gullible, and amazing people out of these situations alive.

The procedure would consist primarily of an incision down Thalmir's chest, opening up the ribcage for examination; from there, ribs could be reassembled in a most grisly fashion and fastened with the glue that his mystic had so graciously prepared. However, the environment they were in was, pristine as it was, no doubt pestilent; no doubt that despite their gravest precautions, pathogens would enter the incision and, over time, pose a grave threat to their comrade's life without serious treatment that they, with their limited experience, could not provide. Even the Urrites would be suspect, given what he knew of their primitive culture--as inventive and beautiful as it was, he could not be sure of their medical science.

He looked over to his supplies for the surgery--his right hand, through which magic would be channeled to keep Thalmir as calm as possible during his procedure, a series of medicinal vials that could be administered via a funnel (as the Ranger was not presently lucid enough to drink them voluntarily), and his journal, equipped with its inkwell and quill pen, in which he would scribble notes, diagrams, and other items of intellectual interest. After all, if this was successful, it could help future generations of mad adventurers, and there could be no passing up of such an opportunity--he was an intellectual first and foremost.

He saluted for a moment, hand to his heart, palm downward. Rationally, he knew that it meant nothing. Royalist hogwash meant nothing in this jungle at all--but it was a symbol of stability, reason, and, most of all, home.

"S'ven, let us begin. I'll allow you to make the first move. I have him calmed."

OOC: Post lock for Nowe.

[Redcoat]

S'ven leaned over Thalmir's body, his pack of medicines and phials of potions open next to him on the ground. He whispered a prayer to the gods of his people, a prayer to keep his hands steady and true, and a prayer of healing. He reached for the sharpest and smallest knife he carried with him. He used it to gently cut from Thalmir's shoulders to his breastbone, down the breastbone and out along its sides. He grabbed the phial closest to him, filled with a brighter green with the consistency of a fine oil. "Anikus, I need you to keep him steady while I apply this, it has a slight sting to it. If I don't disinfect first, bad things happen."

He waited until Anikus had a proper grip on Thalmir, and began applying the solution all around the incisions. Thalmir would scream once or twice, perhaps from the pain of the wounds or perhaps from the sting of the liquid, it didn't matter. The wounds were dreadful, worse than anything S'ven had ever seen before. He began telling Anikus exactly how and where to use his abilities that he had offered. They started with the lower ribs, which were by far some of the worst off. There were ribs fractured beyond five or six cracks, and those were the visible ones. "Anikus, this is bad. I've never seen anything this bad, not in all my times as village healer or his apprentice. I don't know how long he will have without real magic."

S'ven would do what he could though, to ease Thalmir's pain for now. An hour passed, and then two. The sun was already sinking down into the horizon, and it would soon be dark. He was using a vile smelling liquid composition of herbs and chemicals to mend the bones back together, making sure where each piece went first, before placing it back and bonding it to the others. It was grueling work, and it would take many more hours before they would begin to see progress. The worst of the bones were mended first, and then on out to the least of the damage. "Anikus, this binding won't last long. Even if we sling him up best, it will last a day, maybe two. He needs help now, more than I can offer here. This should hold, for now."

He had sealed Thalmir back up, applied more of the stinging antiseptic, and moved to pack away his tools. "If he lives the night, his chances should improve somewhat, but I don't want to give you any false hopes.

Nowe Edit: Done.

[Redcoat]

Anikus withdrew, sighing in relief as the incision was closed up. Thalmir lay before them, still, and likely the recipient of a grand new scar down his chest, but alive; the operation was a success. Anikus clsoed his journal, in which he had been taking notes between calming down Thalmir with medicines and magic.

"It's done," he said to no-one in particular. "But this won't hold too long. Even with my magic, this incision will fester in an environment like this. We're going to have to make double-time to the temple; I believe we may be able to heal him there." He didn't have the heart to tell them that it was also the location of the Shard.

"It's time for some much-needed rest. Comrades, I will take first watch tonight. Gods know I will not sleep."

Indeed, he wouldn't. There was planning to do. With the arrival of the Urrites, their situation changed greatly; he was sure that with the proper manipulation of the indigenous peoples, the safe arrival of Thalmir--and the removal of the Shard--could be accomplished with relative ease. He looked, quickly, at Marketta; he could sense her love of these creatures, aloof and socially incompetent as he was.

You're going to make things difficult, aren't you? he thought, brain working overdrive. I suppose it would be more palatable to you if we left them some sort of reward for their services. Perhaps medicine would suffice? But there is no need to rock the boat. I shall keep my strategy in waiting. Getting out of here alive is difficulty enough.