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| [Graded]Et Lux In Tenebris Lucet (Ruslan/Lilith); Not all that is gold does glimmer. | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 9 2017, 07:58 AM (993 Views) | |
| 主 ajimeister | May 14 2017, 06:07 AM Post #41 |
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"I'll try to see what I can do on my end," grunted the soldier in response to the mage's remarks concerning the situation at hand. The Dark Knives had taken necessary precautions indeed; nowhere was this more evident than in the deployment of the teleportation mage that had caused such trouble for the private, alongside the trap within that storage room upon which the other three had been placed in great peril. They knew, knew that a couple of rats were poking around, unwanted thorns in their sides to be excised like tumors before they caused irreversible damage. The arrival of the teleportation mage–and somewhat versed in combat no less–was a sign that the elusive organization was desperate, desperate to keep itself afloat. Yet, for all of the criminal organization's efforts and attempts to stymie the group, ultimately all was futile. The complex upon which they had made their redoubt had been revealed to the group; with a cadre of armed and armored knights combing that complex it would only be a matter of time before they were flushed out. Already had they begun to mobilize several minutes before; there was little doubt that reinforcements would be swift and efficient henceforth. They just needed to be directed. Releasing an item from a belt clasp did the knight brandish a portable vox-caster, a cumbersome, lachryma-powered radio directly linked to CP, perfectly capable of inter-squad communications. It was a heavy item, a killer; at three kilograms was the "Handie-Talkie" a most burdensome thing to carry. Yet, in its function did the item serve well; replete with an encrypted, enclosed system difficult to divulge information from without prior knowledge in the field of lachryma-communications. Ruslan acquiesced to the spacial mage's question, adjusting the transceiver before extending the antenna. Lifting the handset to his ear did the man simultaneously depress a button located on the posterior end of the communications device, before speaking. "Gudleifr to CP, we've received intel regarding belligerents at 359 Lager Street, Complex #3. How copy?" Garbled noises and static were all that the private could discern from the radio; ultimately unsurprising. Transmitting within enclosed areas underground such as the sewers were evidently a no go. "That's...a negative. I'll try again..once we reach topside." The knight pointed further down the sewers upon which the quartet had not trod upon, a series of tarnished iron rungs that appeared to lead upward. A manhole perhaps, several paces away. So was it that as he did so did the private begin to move, a gauntlet ever held against his damaged cuirass. The amount of vitae that dripped from the wound was scarcely too much to worry about; yet as time continued onward did the private find himself ever engulfed in a feeling of malaise, ever woozy with each and every second they had remaining. Hobbling with the support of his longsword did Ruslan begin to advance toward the rungs, feeling all the while sluggish and disoriented. There was something about that blood-coated quarrel that lay still within the man's breastplate that was off, terribly off. Poison. "There's," struggled he, "There's a ladder that leads up here." |
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| 裁 Reya Starlyght | May 18 2017, 01:48 AM Post #42 |
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Verba volant, scripta manent.
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With curious intent did the mage watch as Ruslan operated the communication device he had extracted, pausing to wonder as to why the object was so cumbersome. Certainly, she knew of and had even operated lighter technologies that had the same purpose. Still Lilith supposed they were unreliable at best. A good deal of things happened to fit right into that category, a notion she had learned a long a long time ago but was as bothering as ever. Alas, no matter how large the system was, it seemed it's signal could not pierce the ground the four were standing below. "It was worth a try," she remarked. With that in mind, the brown-haired girl had started walking back in the direction the group had come from before the private pointed out another possible way out. It was hard for her to make such a thing out in the dim light, but she trusted his judgement and switched directions, falling in-step with the knight. Lilith did not fail to notice the fact that he was clutching his side, but seeing as he was moving and the fact that it didn't see to be bleeding much, she assumed Ruslan's heavy armor had taken the blunt of the blow. As his pace moved towards the more hap-hazardous spectrum, the blue-eyed girl began to worry. Before that point, she had not seen Gudleifr lean on his longsword in such a way, nor move so slowly. Still, it couldn't have been from blood loss, unless there was some sort of internal bleeding that was going on, and even then she doubted a trained military personnel would collapse so quickly with that type of wound. He also seemed sick, not in a tremendous amount of pain. Immediately, the mage's mind went to a horrid conclusion, one that spelled out that the group didn't have much time on their hands to act. Poison was a finicky thing. The fact that Ruslan had been hit in the abdomen and not a limb would only further increase the urgency of the problem. Just as Lilith was about to speak about the matter, he struggled out a sentence, providing the last piece of evidence she needed to draw the correct conclusion "Hey Ruslan? You don't look too well. I think we should check out that wound you got. It might be poisoned," she started, looking towards Mattock and Sayla for her next question. "Do either of you know how to stop or reduce the spread of poison?" It only took a moment for one of the two to respond. "I might be able to help, but you'll have to be sitting first, sir. That armor looks really heavy too," Sayla stated, directing her speech towards Ruslan. In conjunction, she walked towards him, focusing her eyes on the gape in the metal plate the private wore. Waiting a few moments, the spacial mage took another look at the rungs Gudleifr had pointed out before. The information the group possessed, whether or not he was injured, could still potentially be vital to the situation involving the Dark Knives and the Aozaki-Kai. With that in mind, she yet again turned to the knight. "Mind if I borrow that device of yours?" |
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| 主 ajimeister | May 22 2017, 06:11 AM Post #43 |
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Poison. The quarrel that had hit the soldier had been coated with poison. Slumped on his longsword did the knight stagger with great difficulty before stopping, as he listened to what Lilith had to comment on the matter. That crossbow wielder had done quite a fair bit of damage, far more than the soldier had initially began to perceive; everything felt woozy, out of place. He felt cold, as if it were winter in Seven once more, yet simultaneously the private found himself flush with an almost paradoxical sense of heat, as if he were burning inside. The venom within that very crossbow bolt had proceeded admirably with its course; amber eyes, ever hazy, struggled with difficulty to perceive the rungs that lay just a few paces away. He could still make it, yet he couldn't. Such was it that Lilith and Sayla had taken note of, and thus did they attempt to assist in staving off the poison, much to the soldier's gratitude. "Right...I'll....lemme...take it off..." Ruslan fumbled with difficulty as he began to undo the various constituents that comprised his armor. The helm came off first, as a mess of raven-black hair fell upon his eyes. Then came the gorget, and then the pauldrons, as the knight attempted with difficulty to detach the plackart and faulds that comprised his cuirass. The quarrel was not lodged deep enough within to constitute a mortal wound; yet removing it surely would draw more blood. With the help of Mattock however, was the chestplate eventually removed, revealing a grisly wound for Sayla, Mattock, and Lilith to behold. "I think we should compress the wound, right? Or should we try to suck out the poison?" Breathing raggedly did the private pay little heed to what the two continued to converse of. It was hard for him to hear, hard for him to pay attention. Everything felt redolent of grey and similar hues, devoid of color; everything felt cold, yet simultaneously burning. Bestowing with frailty the cumbersome vox-caster to the spacial mage did the knight crane his head to perceive the length of the sewer and its former denizens, the charred remnants of the skeevers that had assailed them beforehand. Would he, like them, end up dead in a sewer, devoid of some glorious death? Nay, there was no such thing as a glorious death; of that he knew fully well. Boxes of pine draped with the flags of the Fioran flower, without any bodies to go with them. Unmarked graves, of brothers and sisters in arms that had died fighting for their country in all manner of gruesome occurrences: shelled by artillery, torn asunder by machine gun fire, crushed underneath the treads of tanks, dead from dysentery and cholera and all other maladies. If anything, why was he thinking of death? Perhaps, it was because this could very well constitute his final moments. He closed his eyes. "Company B, fan out!" At an entrance to the Docks did a mass of silver march in ordered formations from one out of many blockades of armored buses that halted entry or exit from the Docks to the other districts of Dandelion. They were soldiers armed with a variety of equipment, fully prepared for a riot, if not full combat; tower shields and arming swords and spears and maces. They were soldiers that had long since been prepared for such an auspicious moment; their tour in Bosco had taught them harshly how to deal with danger, different yet similar to what they faced in policing Dandelion. Granted, there was no such thing as heavy support to contend with; yet the similarities between conduct allowed for easy applicability. Cordon and search. Nothing more, nothing less. As the platoons and squads that comprised the strike force began to disperse did a single knight and her commanding officer on the vox-caster pick up a faint signal. An attempt at transmission. A reconnaissance unit perhaps? Or another unit caught up in the ordeal? "Unknown unit, identify yourself immediately. How copy?" |
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| 裁 Reya Starlyght | May 24 2017, 02:20 AM Post #44 |
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Verba volant, scripta manent.
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All things considered, Lilith did not know much about emergency medical treatment. As Sayla posed the question, she wondered, what would they do in the time of peril? It was evident, based on the gruesome injury that had been revealed upon the removal of Ruslan's armor, that the situation was anything but unconcerning. With any other poisoning, the mage would suggest sucking the wound much like Sayla had stated, but with a crossbow bullet occupying it she wondered if the group should attempt to remove that first. No, they had no medical equipment to do so, and the affected area wasn't a limb where bleeding could be staved so easily. Applying pressure would probably be their best bet, at least in the case of delaying the poison. Cauterization, maybe, if the quarrel was removed, but that led to the same dilemma as previously noted. "Both, probably. I'm going to try to contact the Knights and get some help; I don't think we should try removing the quarrel yet," Lilith replied to Sayla, calmly albeit the fact that internally she was panicking. After what seemed like a monumental struggle, Ruslan presented the communications device to her, in which the mage grasped it, nodding and thanking him at the same time. Sprinting, she closed the small gap between the fours' position and the ladder, clambering up the haphazardously placed rungs. Once within less than an arm's reach, she pushed the grate up, sunlight pouring into the sewer. The screeching grate of metal against concrete was a glorious noise to behold, and soon after the spacial mage was standing up on solid ground, facing an empty intersection. Without further hesitation, she began to fiddle with the dials of the system, recalling the movements the private had executed earlier. Soon she heard static, and a militaristic voice. Somewhat out of breath, the mage pushed a button to reply, in a most unorthodox way. "Er, I copy? This is an associate of Private Ruslan Gudleifr; he's been poisoned by a suspected member of the Dark Knives, and needs medical attention immediately. We are by," she spoke, looking back up at the intersection sign again. "We're by the Lager/Grenadier intersection in the Docks. Ruslan is underground in the sewers." As the transmission went through, there was the blast of static, and then a very anticipated response. "CP copies; a medical dispatch will be arriving as soon as possible. But why exactly was the private in the sewers of Dandelion?" Lilith only hoped the medics would arrive in time to save Ruslan. It has been her idea to go down into the underbelly of the city, after all, and therefore it was her fault that he was poisoned and wrestling with death at that very moment. The spacial mage also had a duty to perform though, aside from helping the private. "He was investigating a matter involving the Dark Knives and the Aozaki-Kai. We found an address inside an unconsumed barrel of salt, the drug. It's 359 Lager Street; Complex 3." There was a long bout of silence from the other end of the line, and Lilith almost thought the person on the other side had ended the transmission. However, eventually the large and heavy box spoke again. "A squad will also be dispatched there immediately. I hope this isn't some sort of trap, for it will go sour on your end." And with that, the radio went silent for a final time; leaving Lilith waiting in the street for a sign of hope to appear. |
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| 主 ajimeister | May 26 2017, 06:40 AM Post #45 |
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They emerged in the distance, mere flickers of silver amidst the smoky backdrop of the polluted skyline of Dandelion. Like little steel ants from a distance, slowly but steadily growing ever larger with every advance that they took. "COIN operation, lads. Form columns. Weapons tight." A formation of knights marched on double-time across Grenadier Street, columns upon columns of soldiers armed with tower shields and maces. Their mission, twofold: the raid of a suspected hideout of the Dark Knives, alongside the recovery of a knight that had been injured and required the assistance of a corpsman. Thus did they march with great haste, the soldiers dispatched by Command Post; as they marched in an orderly file to cordon off the complex did a trio of unarmored knights–bearing the armbands of corpsmen–split off from the rest of their platoon, heading toward the intersection that the woman over the radio had spoken of. With heavy plodding did the squad eventually link up at an uncovered manhole, whereupon a single woman stood. A fair-skinned brunette, clutching a standard-issue vox-caster. Perhaps it was that this person was the one whom had contacted command, that had informed them of a casualty that had occurred. And so did the leader of the corpsmen, a bespectacled man with salt-and-pepper hair cantered over to the mage, a solemn expression upon his visage. "Corporal Lutz, 7th Rearguard. I take it you're the one who notified us?" One by one, Lutz's subordinates began to file down the manhole, their satchels of equipment in tow. Bone saws, syringes, solutions, solvents, TPNs, gauze, fluids, antivenin, and a myriad of other aspects of their gear did they slowly hoist downward with them, as the corpsmen entering the sewer prepared to stabilize the private and relieve him of his affliction. "Sir, we need you down here!" "On my way," replied the knight as he too, turned away and began to descend downward. But just before his face disappeared into the abyss did the man address the adolescent whom he had conversed with. "If you want to stay and help out, I could use an extra hand." "Easy breaths now, soldier." "Nrghh..." Propped up against the wall was Ruslan barely able to perceive the myriad of new people that had descended from the surface into the sewers, clean, fresh-faced soldiers clad in the immaculate white overcoats and armbands of medical personnel. Scarcely was he able to see much else beyond the fuzzy tints of grey that had clouded his very eyes; unresponsive was he too to the flashlight that they shined before his very eyes. "Sir, he's catatonic." "Give this man antivenin, stat. Stabilize the wound afterward; how deep is that bolt?" "Incomplete penetration, missed the vitals, sir." "Thank the heavens. Cranmer, cut the shaft 12 centimeters from the body. Vey, restrain Private Gudleifr, and prep a coagulant," said he, before turning to the mage once more. "Civilian, I'm going to need you to do me a favor. I'm going to need you to pull the bolt out of the knight's body. Once that happens, we'll pour antiseptic on it, and suture the wound before he dies of blood loss. Are you up for the task?" The man waited for ever the longest while, as he held a pair of blue rubber gloves. After ascertaining the answer of the woman would he get to work; regardless of whether he had an assistant or not. "Begin the procedure." |
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| 裁 Reya Starlyght | May 29 2017, 05:54 PM Post #46 |
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Verba volant, scripta manent.
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A strong sense of relief overcame the mage as knightly medical personnel arrived at the scene, carrying the necessary equipment with them. Soon after, what seemed to be the leader of the squad approached her briskly, uttering a few words as to introduce himself. Perhaps, if in a less stressful situation, Lilith may have gone ahead and done the same, but instead she briefly answered his question with a "Yes, sir." The latter word was almost spoken as an afterthought, the girl catching a tone of franticity from one of the soldiers descending into the manhole. Soon after, the corporal left her, although surprisingly subtly asking the mage to assist in the procedure, for whatever reason that would be. Lutz may have framed it like a suggestion, but Lilith didn't want to take any chance of getting in a tangle with the authorities for inaction. Not only that, but if there was any way she could help Ruslan, she would. With those two things in mind did the blue-eyed girl follow the assembly of corpsmen, only to glance upon the worsening condition of the private. While whatever Sayla and Mattock had done after her departure may have helped stop the spread of poison, it certainly was not a cure. Standing behind the medics did Lilith hear them exchange words and orders, somewhat baffled by what they were talking about. She was a little too prideful to admit it, but in terms of actual language, among other things her knowledge of it was not the best. What coagulant and suture meant she did not know, but the girl did understand what the corporal was asking her to do. No, she was not the squeamish type, but anxiety overfilled her as she responded, and took the gloves from his grip. "I'll try my best." Had she been in the officer's position, she would have tried to say something reassuring, or criticizing, or both, but he did not. As a matter of fact, he simply ordered the procedure to start. Tentatively did Lilith put on the blue gloves, finding them a little too large at the finger tips but not overly hindering. Walking up to Gudleifr, she bent over and waited for the medics to give the signal for her to extract the bolt. The expression on his face looked almost completely blank, and the mage assumed that was what one of the corpsman had meant by catatonic. When the time did come, Lilith stared at the open wound, pushing her right hand towards the bullet. Fingers open, she grasped the shaft, pulling out gore along with it. The squad continued with their task, stitching Ruslan up, but the mage couldn't help but look at Sayla and Mattock with a quizzical expression, already having dropped the arrow. |
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| 主 ajimeister | May 31 2017, 08:06 AM Post #47 |
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Rivulets of crimson began to gush from the knight's wound, as the man screamed into a cotton towel. As Lilith began to pull out the bolt in accordance with the corpsman's procedure was Ruslan momentarily brought from the throes of death by excruciating pain, tensing, convulsing almost as she finally extracted the quarrel. The barbs within the projectile's head had functioned admirably as the operation began to occur: so too was it that as she took the remnants of the quarrel out did chunks of torn flesh and muscle follow too. And with it, was the fog temporarily dispelled. "Steady now, good work. Cranmer, apply antiseptic, then the topical coagulant. Vey, inject him with an anesthetic." He could see them now, the cadre of corpsmen clad in their grey overcoats and blue rubber gloves. He could see the crimson that flowed from his abdomen, the vivid and lurid colors that he should have by all means been used to, yet found himself sickened with once more. He could see again, past the haze and the fog that had clouded his mind and threatened to deprive him of his life. He could see the bags of anesthetics and antivenin arranged on a tarp just to his right, the cases and creams that they had brought alongside them in their heavy satchels and duffel bags, the litany of syringes prepped and ready to be used. And then there was darkness. "Done, sir." "Good. Antiseptic please." With nary a word did one of the corpsmen pour a trickle of a clear substance onto a wipe, before dabbing tentatively the wound that Ruslan had suffered from. Yet, it was an effort ultimately futile; no sooner had the man done so did more blood continue to gush from the wound, and their patient's complexion soon lost its rosiness, giving way to pallor. Yet, the creams and coagulants applied proved a stopgap measure in staving off the bleeding; indeed, as effective, if not better than simply cauterizing or compressing the wound. In doing so, was the corporal, nay, a miracle worker, able to avail himself of enough time to treat Ruslan. "You think he'll be ok? inquired a husky voice. Mattock. "He'll be just fine," remarked Lutz casually as he began deftly with his fingers to stave the bleeding, closing off the gaping wound with his sutures. With the skill of a weaver did the man begin to sew, his needles piercing flesh instead of cloth, his surgical threads holding together body tissues instead of fabric. To ensure that the wound was able to close completely and properly, a litany of vertical mattress sutures, interlaced with simple interrupted stitches to better hold the skin together. The man worked tirelessly, ceaselessly, as he moved to accomplish his task; all the while did his subordinates, their work finished, stand back at watch in awe as the corporal closed the wound. "Operation, complete." Throwing a blanket onto the infantryman did the three soldiers begin to pack up, disinfecting and cleansing their equipment before stowing them into their satchels and duffel bags, all the while ready to extricate themselves from the area. So was it too that as the three began to climb up the rungs of the ladder did they also bring Ruslan with them, hoisting the Seveni and his equipment up as a team. Yet, as the corpsmen began to return once more in the direction of the field HQ did Lutz look back, before speaking to the three. "We'll be taking him back now, since he's out of commission. I highly suggest you people get out of here while you still can; it's about to become a hot mess pretty soon." Taking a cigarette out of his pocket did Lutz begin to smoke, walking off into the distance as his comrades followed suit, Gudleifr included. "Thanks for helping us, and him, ma'am. Truly." It was great threading! I look forward to RPing more with you in the future! (ºwº)b Also, feel free to put up the concluding post if you'd like. |
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| 裁 Reya Starlyght | Jun 1 2017, 04:50 PM Post #48 |
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Verba volant, scripta manent.
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As the operation came to a close, the mage observed with curiosity and concern, for she had witnessed Ruslan momentarily awake from his shock. She couldn't imagine the agony he was going through at that moment, if he had truly regained consciousness, and even if he had, it would be terrible. She had seen others go through it before, but like all things it was infinitely different in true experience. Pulled from her thoughts though was the girl as Mattock questioned what the private's wellbeing would be. Consequently, it was a relief when the corporal replied positively. In fact, Lutz didn't even seem phased by the entire procedure, almost as if it was nothing but a practice run. How he was so confident, Lilith didn't know. She supposed it was a good thing that he was, for panic almost never amounted to a pleasant situation. Even so, it wasn't long before the medical depatch took their leave, taking Gudleifr along with them. Before then, the officer said a final word, and in response the blue-eyed mage nodded, then spoke. "Understood. I was just trying to help out Dandelion, that's all." Soon, she turned to Sayla and Mattock, addressing them honestly. "I wish you two the best of luck with your organization's goals. Nothing would be better in my mind then to see this city set straight." And with that, Lilith climbed up the rungs of the sewer for a final time, her intent to depart Dandelion. Bad post. Also, end of thread, loved it! |
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| 梟 Inara Serra | Jun 4 2017, 09:37 PM Post #49 |
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Honesty without tact is cruelty.
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Aji: 6SP 1,200,000 Reya: 6SP 1,150,000 This topic has been completed and graded by our staff, now been resolved, it is therefore closed and move to our library. This is an automatic message. |
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