Snippet #1480783

As the discussion continued, Pan began to grow slightly unnerved by the mutterings of the doctor, seeing as how they were growing a trifle more frantic than usual. She was nothing if not a tolerant personality, and it didn't bother her so much that he was talking to himself as he seemed to be getting nervous. she didn't really have a grasp on much of the rest of what was being discussed, so she was forced to pay a large amount of attention to it.

Otherwise a little out-of-place, she idly scanned the room with her magic. Maybe something was throwing the doctor off that nobody else knew about. Everything seemed fairly ordinary, except... Pan's eyes widened, and she shot a surreptitious glance at the nobleman- Lord Taylor, had it been? That man was very sick, to say the least, but the strangest thing was that it reminded her in ways of the lung disease she treated in Delta. She cut off the extra perception at any rate, suddenly feeling as though she had stumbled upon something private and feeling rather ashamed of herself.

Still, she really wanted to ask him if he'd consider consulting her about it. It seemed... well, rather grave to say the least. Maybe he was one of those people that hated mages? That might explain it. Maybe it simply wasn't curable by magic, but she wasn't going to try and figure that out without permission. Of course, just as she was trying to figure out how to ask about it in the first place, a man stumbled through the door and collapsed on the floor. Pan's first instinct was to rush to his side, and she did just that, only just catching the Princess's words over the doctor's shrieks. Before she knew it, half the number were out the door, and she was trying to stabilize the man on the floor.

His worst wound appeared to be the gash in his side, and she coaxed his hands away from it, trying to get a better look. It was bleeding freely, but not so deep that it had punctured any vital organs. She reckoned another inch deep and he would have died before he made it this far. With some whispered words, Pan set to work on the wound, but it was impossible to tell if he'd already lost too much blood to survive. She had the distinct impression that this would not be the only injury she tended to today, so she simply stopped the bleeding and started the wound towards healing on its own.

When a black-cloaked man slipped through, Pan froze. She had absolutely no combat skills whatsoever, and the best she would be able to do was cast a shield on herself or the injured man, which still left Icarus and Lord Taylor at risk. She needn't have worried, though, for at that moment, the nobleman drew a small spearlike object and stabbed the intruder. Pan averted her eyes, unable to watch lifeblood spilling onto the floor without feeling as though she were going to vomit.

He can fight, but he's ill. It can't be good for him, she thought to herself, chewing her lip contemplatively. Making a decision she stood suddenly, clearing her throat awkwardly. She had no more clue how to speak to nobility than she would to enter a discussion on chemical properties. "Excuse me," she tried, looking anywhere but at the person she was speaking to, and then just decided to go ahead and do what she was planning on doing anyway. A basic energy transfer was something most mages could do, but directing it to reinforce vital systems was the work of a healer alone. It wasn't the same thing as a medical treatment; all it would do was enable Lord Taylor to fight without being overcome by his illness for a while.

"Please forgive me if I presume anything," she said, extending one arm outward, palm flat towards him. It flared blue-white for a second, and then dimmed, task completed. With that, she coughed and scuttled off awkwardly to attempt and drag the injured man (who was now stable enough to be moved) behind the table and away from the door. It proved to be impossible for someone as frail as she, and she glanced over at the ex-fleeter. "Um, Icarus, would you mind... helping me with him?" She knew he was a good deal stronger than her, at least where the upper body was concerned anyway.

---

As soon as the guard stumbled in, Zade knew this was all going to go south rather quickly, but she hadn't exactly expected half the table to spring into action as fast as they had. She followed a shade more slowly, knowing that she cold to a certain extent fight but not kill, and wondering how useful that was even going to be.

She didn't have much time to think about it, for the moment she cleared the doorway, a man swung at her with a saber, and Zade ducked in just enough time to keep her head. Quickly she flicked her rope-dart into a centripetal motion, flinging it out at the man, who dodged deftly to the side, trying to close and strike at her back. The girl skittered away, feeling an uncomfortable tug as the saber sheared off several strands of red hair from her ponytail. That was far too close a call, and she spun around, meeting aggression with aggression and flinging one of the dart ends with expert precision.

The assassin bent backwards, the razor edge barely grazing his nose, but she circled, tossing both ends in alternation, only for them to be parried by the solid saber each time. Her assailant, clearly impatient to kill her and move on, ended the pattern and dover, swinging at her legs, a mistake. Zade simply tossed herself into a backflip, foot catching him under the chin. The interruption in her motion caused her to land sideways, but he was staggering backwards, and she looked around the hallway for something to help her out.

The lantern on the wall was almost too much to ask for. It was one of those magic ones, but they still issued more than enough heat for her purposes. Zade dashed for the thing, holding the ends of her rope-dart to the heat and trying not to burn her fingers. Looking over her shoulder, she noted that the assassin had recovered and was stalking towards her, apparently not thinking enough to be confused by her strange actions. She turned back to the lantern, imploring whatever gods were out there to give her a break, just this bloody once.

As if on command, the wicking started smoldering, and a tiny flame sprang up in it. With a relieved sigh that cut off as soon as Zade realized she had no time for it, she swung round, the motion nurturing the flames at each end of her rope dart. The assassin blinked at this, rightfully wary of being burned. For her part, the girl grinned, playing her part as well as she knew how. "Dodge this," she taunted, spinning the left end a few times before letting it fly. Predictably, the man hastened to do just that, which meant he didn't she the other end snaking around his saber. With a quick wrench, he was disarmed, and she used his distraction to step into his guard. Knowing that assassins could kill with their bare hands, too, she wasted no time in finding the spot she was looking for between his shoulder and jawline, delivering just enough pressure to send him to the ground unconscious (a rather useful trick for dealing with people causing you problems on the wrong side of the district).

Of course, this was but one man, and a woman soon enough stepped up to replace him, this one already barehanded and looking a tad more cautious. Oh great... this was going to be a long fight.