Rogue and El- A Chance encounter

Armeno smiled grimly as Tabri went flying into the air.
'Nice one there.' Armeno briefly inspected his sword after Static's next words. It shimmered with crimson blood at the tip, and a small drop was rolling down the blade. 'Yes, I did. I felt the sword catch, but I wasn't sure whether it had gone through the scales. It did, which is good- though about your shield, that's a pit-' The rest of his sentence was cut off by Tabri.
'I'm sure she's a nicer girl than you, but some of us don't come with scales.' Armeno quickly turned, and sprinted into the Grey Snail. Ignoring the instinct to turn again and leg it out of there, he took the stairs three at a time up to their room. It was by now almost completely incinerated, but he chucked their possessions out of the window before doing another flight of stairs to the top floor of the inn. From there, he found a window which overlooked the stable. He crouched on the ledge, tring to balance with his sword in his belt and the bow he had snatched from their room in his hands. Teetering slightly, he nocked an arrow to it and fired at the dragon's eye. He did the same with another four arrows, loosing them quickly at the wings, eyes, whatever was more vulnerable, though not with superb aim. He then slung the bow over his shoulder and leapt from the ledge onto the dragon's back, sword out, just hoping she wouldn't move out before he landed. Height was the advantage here; if he could get on her back he could do some serious damage. He raised his sword as he fell, ready to strike.

Ooc: Sure, everyday stuff, that.

Static fumbled with the bottles Foen had given her, trying not to drop them. They held a strange mish-mash of substances inside- There was a little bottle full of purple liquid, another with a skeleton’s face on it, a larger tube with (of all things) a newt floating in it, glass beads and glooping half-solid messes that it looked like nobody should touch, let alone take. She couldn’t help but drop a few when Armeno spoke again though, leaning suddenly forward to hear his every fumbling word. She gulped, losing any way with words she ever had. He had asked after her again… She sucked in a faltering breath, trying to rid herself of the lightheadedness that had just hit her. Foen picked up the bottles that had rolled free, tutting under his breath.
“Make yourself useful girlie. Keep this one awake.” He tinkered with the bottles in her hands, shaking his head when he didn’t find the one he wanted first time.

“Armeno? You have to stay awake for a while.” She saw his eyes move from Foen to her, the only white amongst the black and red of soot and blood. When before she might have dropped her gaze, now she held his, trying to put back his real face- the smiling, cheerful, stubborn, brave face that she had seen, not this blackened mask of pain and hurt. Another bottle slid out her grasp.

“Alright, these ones.” Foen held three bottles- A small dark one, a fat, flattish one with a flipping lid and the one with the skeleton on the wrapper. He also took the flask of brandy off Static again, tugging at the capper and taking a swig himself. “You can put those back.”

She scrabbled for the bag, dropping her armful and spilling the bottles into its open flap before turning back to Armeno. The sorcerer was sitting close behind his head, ready to prop him up.
“These are going to make you a bit better, but it’s going to hurt. Apparently quite a lot. The brandy will help, but it won’t take away everything, and it won’t be completely fixed.” Foen looked up at Static, giving her the brandy and the first bottle. “I’m not a Euphorn, they’re the only ones that can fix things like this outright. Come on, get to work.” He shoved his hands underneath Armeno’s back, propping him up slightly.

“Me?” she squeaked. Foen waved a hand- Be my guest. She gave another gulp, uncorking the first bottle, the one with the skeleton on. “Is this poison?”
“Noooo.” He waved one free hand nonchalantly. “It’ll realign his bones again. That one’s going to hurt the most, best to get it done first.”
Static gulped again, steeling herself. This was nearly as bad as having to watch the elf plummet in the claws of the dragon. “Sorry Armeno…”

Zack rose a paw to his lips to quieten Ciqala’s frightened hissing, trying very hard not to put wind to tail and run for his life. He backed up from his little tent towards Ciqala, fluttering as little as he could in the hope of not attracting attention.
“Get on my back, and we’ll get out of here.” He said quietly, trying not to be noticed.

Tabri hissed as she licked at her paw, pulling a disgusted face. “Ugh, that’s elf. Tastes like burnt pinecones.” She scrubbed her paw on the ground, staining the long grasses red. Pain shot up her paw. “Elf and something else. Elf, else. Elf, else.” She twisted the words together until they were slurring like a drunkard’s. “Elfelshhhh… Ouch.” She licked her paw again, then yanked on the arrow still sticking out of her chest, flicking it away through the grass.
“Okay… What else did you get in?” She sat back, stretching out so she could see. There was a line across her stomach, but she still had all her organs, so that was good; her paw was in tatters- now the elf’s blood was gone she could see that. His sword had ripped it into shreds, which might pose a problem for a while- It ruled out more attacks on the city to find that sorceress at least for a week. And there was an itch in her cheek: Ah yes, that stray arrow. She rubbed her head on her shoulder and the pain got infinitely worse- There was obviously something still stuck in it. That would need to be dealt with.


((Please, feel free to post whenever, I'm not back till tuesday evening. After I've done my english coursework. -stern look at self-
You can PP Static to give him the potions, the skeleton and the dark bottle ones he needs to drink, the other goes on his side as burn lotion. Also, if you want, take control of Tam/the barmaid/Foen, whoever you want :3 Heads up on Foen: He thinks he's the bees-knees, Static= girlie and Armeno=elf, and he takes offence if you don't think his magicks work. Just think crazy scientist with an ego problem Have a good few days, I shall be daydreaming in every spare moment I get!))

‘I think... I can deal with... A little more... pain,’ Armeno grimaced. ‘Like... he says... Get it over.’ He didn’t try to sit up again, but he opened his mouth wide so that Static wouldn’t have too much trouble giving him the medicines- for lack of a better word really, he was sure they’d be ingrained with a strong dose of magic. Medicinal potions? Either way, Static had poured most of the rest of the brandy into his mouth. He smiled slightly as it numbed him a little, and when he spoke again it was a little slurred.
‘Don’t be sorry, Static.’ He then opened his mouth again, and Static took a deep breath before upending the skeleton bottle above his mouth. Armeno lay still for a few seconds, not feeling anything.
‘You sure it’s working?’ he mumbled, before gasping as the pain kicked violently in. He’d only had time to see Foen’s annoyed expression before he had screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw. It was a lot more painful than he had guessed, and he hadn’t exactly been prepared. His right hand instinctively flew across his boast and grabbed the arm, but he quickly dropped it with a groan as it made the pain worse.

When the pain had passed and his arm felt slightly mended, Armeno opened his eyes and looked up at Static.
'Pretty sure it's over,' he slurred. 'Next one better?' Static nodded, then looked at Foen.
'Which one next?' she asked. He pointed at the dark one.
'It's to take care of any other damage which is under the skin,' he explained. Armeno just closed his eyes and opened his mouth again. Static gave him the potion from the dark bottle. Armeno's face remained blank as the drink went down, then he wrinkled his nose.
'Feels odd... On my chest, too.' Then again, he reflected, it was probably going to- and it was a lot better than the pain of the skeleton potion. This potion took longer, but the longer it went the less Armeno's wounds throbbed. When the last of the strange sensation trickled away, Armeno carefully pushed himself up with his right arm.
'Last one, please,' he said. Blood was still trickling slowly from the wounds; they were healed apart from the fact that they had no skin. Static held the flat bottle to Armeno's mouth, and he tilted his head back- he didn't quite trust himself to sit up without his right arm as a prop yet. He sucked in a breath as the new feeling began- a stretching feeling as his skin extended and indeed stretched to cover the gaps. It was more unpleasant than the previous potion had been, but again didn't really hurt, and when it's work was done Armeno felt excellent- or at least, excellent compared to before the treatment.
'I suppose it did all work, then- thank you very much indeed, sir. May I ask of your name? And also... What exactly is a Euphorn?' From what he had heard earlier, it sounded like it had excellent healing powers at any rate. Armeno flexed his arm, pleased with the healing at any rate- but then hissed as pain went through the area it had been damaged.
'Actually... I think there's still something wrong with my arm,' said Armeno, looking up apologetically at Foen.



Ciqala nodded hurriedly.
'I'd be inclined to agree with that,' he whispered back to Zack, hurrying over and climbing carefully onto his new friend's back. The injuries might just anger the dragon further, it occurred to him... At any rate, if it looked at all like the dragon had seen them then the forcefield would be going up. One hand held a fold of paper at Zack's neck, the other was of in front of him ready to summon a shield.
'Let's shift,' he murmured, leaning forwards to speak closer to Zack's ears.

ooc: Sorry, I didn't do a great job with the PPing :/

Static’s eyes widened slightly as Armeno leant over and kissed her on the top of her head, breathing in his warm, earthy scent. She watched him as he pulled off his cloak and shirt, taking the cloak from where he deposited it on the back of her chair and wrapping it around her, burying her hands deep in its warm folds. She pulled the hood over her head and snuggled down, pulling it up around her nose until only her eyes could be seen. Her hair fell back over her face and she pushed it anxiously back into place, pushing at it until it sat where Armeno had tucked it.

Foen stacked the books on the table into messy piles, tutting as a few papers slipped from their folds and spilled onto the floor. He dumped his armful of bandages, scrabbling for the papers and tucking them haphazardly inside the top book, squashing them flat so they stayed. By the time he was done, Armeno was ready to be patched up a bit further. The sorcerer gave a low whistle as he took in the extent of his burns. “I’m surprised you’re still standing. Those potions may have been strong, but for you still to have wounds like that, you must have been close to falling to bits.” Sitting, and gesturing for Armeno to as well, he rifled through his box for a long splint, fitting it to the elf’s arm and starting to wind bandages around. He unscrewed the pot he had taken, looking inside before handing it to the elf. “Put some of that on your side, but don't use too much, because it looks like she's going to need some too. Oh, and I never got your names--?”

After a while, Static tired of sitting on her own and got to her feet, the too-long cloak winding around her feet. She shuffled over to the table, sitting on the edge of another chair where more books were balanced. She watched Armeno in silence for a moment before the contents of the box caught her attention and she rifled through it, pulling out a long green ribbon and laying it on the table. Foen flicked a glance at her but didn't say anything. She pushed its folds flat before deciding that she didn’t want it flat, and wound it round her fingers instead. Then she decided, with a frown, that Armeno needed some green, and tied it clumsily around his good wrist in a bow.

Foen looked at Static in confusion, his eyes flicking to Armeno briefly before back to her. She wasn't behaving quite right, for someone who was obviously used to dangerous situations- After all, she was wearing armour. “When was the last time she said anything?” He had had a couple of people go into shock after something big had happened to them before, but never to someone who wasn’t the main casualty, and never quite like this. If it wasn't so concerning, he would have been fascinated to see how it developed.

Tabri gave a snarl of pain as Ciqala removed the arrow, her face contorting almost out of recognition. She reared her head out of reach, hissing. The eye on the side of her face where the arrow had just been pulled out was screwed shut, and her scales were bleeding again.
“I was being ironic.” She bared her teeth at the homunculus, crouching back into a long shape like she was a cat about to pounce. “Do people not know what satire is any more?”

Zack looked frightened as the large dragon hissed at them, letting his tail droop near Ciqala in case they needed to make a quick getaway. “Uhhh Ciqala, I think that was a bad idea…”

((The arrowhead was in Tabri's cheek, so I just changed it back ^^ Her paw was cut open by his sword though, so it's probably pretty gritty still with dirt and ash and the such.))