forgottenchampions:
He wasn’t entirely sure when the Nords decided to give a skeevers arse about anyone except their own, but the barkeep was right. From the size of that injury the khajiit would’ve probably been alright had he had it looked at immediately, but judging how small the ice shard was compared to the hole in his shoulder and how bloodied his robes were, he’d been fucking around for at least half an hour or so.
The mer exhaled with deep agitation- couldn’t ever get a break the second people figured out he was a mage. In this damned province, it was a 50/50 between getting heckled for being one of those ‘damned mages,’ or people being under the delusion that one would work for them for no charge.
“I’ll see wh- uh– I’ll see what I can d-do. For a price.” Alabyn cracked his knuckles. He propped the unconscious khajiit onto one of the chairs, pressing around the impact; didn’t seem to have severed any arteries slowly prying away at the shard when it wasn’t slipping out of his hands.“Ah–” The mer startled when blood began to gush the moment he had loosened the shard. Okay, there was definitely artery damage here. He grimaced, any lacerations to the axillary artery were generally difficult to heal. The shard must’ve been lodged in enough where it could keep a decent amount of pressure on the artery, generally something hard to do for the axillary. “Sorry k-khajiit, you’re not g- you’re not going to like me here in uh– in a minute.” He was going to have to dig into his shoulder and directly heal it from there. He looked at the barkeep, mouth stretched, “If you’ve g-got any fresh cloth around, I’m going t- I’m going to need it here in a m-moment.”
Dagur nodded, looking a little concerned at all the blood that was spreading through the Khajiit’s robes, idly wondering how long it would take to drip on the floor as he turned to grab some unused rags from the bar.
J’hasi barely came out of that haze of pain and darkness he was stuck in before he heard someone speaking Cyrodilic, eyes barely cracking open to see more red, blood gushing from his shoulder, burning warm now, the ice…the ice was gone? Where…? He tried to look up, but his head felt so wobbly and light, like he was going to float away… All his nose could tell him was that there was blood everywhere, and there was fire. He could hear it crackling over his ragged panting, shallow and light.
“<Where…?>” he mumbled, his Dunmeris slurred, but it was the best he could manage right now.
“Here, this is what we have that’s clean.” The Nord handed over a small pile of worn-out bar rags, clean and dry at least, looking down at the Khajiit, whose head slumped forward, unconscious again.
“Is…is he going t’be all right?”
vvardenfellcat 