Snippet #1583994

The view from the window of The Forge proved quite useful for the injured Garbiel, allowing him a decent vantage point with which to view any persons walking down the street, and several familiar faces had passed by while he watched his son walking towards a client of theirs, Signore Vernazza if he was not mistaken; even if his face was turned slightly away from the smith the tools resting in his hands were unmistakable to their components’ crafter. What on earth he had to do with this catastrophe was not exactly obvious, but he remembered his name being mentioned amongst the others involved with the recent strife in the past year, and another one of those individuals just happened to be there, and assassin he had met on random occasions. Just trying to hear any conversations from this distance was laughable, but by their body language the two knew each other, or neither seemed bothered due to battle-shock, yet that seemed rather implausible when the assassin hefted up a limp body that belonged to the one mage girl he had met the day prior, her name was Pandora if he remembered right, and he usually did.

Well these people are organized well enough to help stem the tide, but what happens when the floods come…

Not much else could be said about the trio of comrades, who even now began marching off to different locales within the tumultuous city, Eos taking Pandora to receive medical care, while Signore Vernazza seemed content enough to sleep. His son was kneeling in the dirt, seeming aware but unconcerned with the unexpected personnel, but he looked up when the vision of Amon Gregory strode towards him.

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“You’re Garbiel’s boy, yes? Did he make it out all right? What of the rest?” He gestured towards the still-burning building, the response teams (such as they were) now working to combat the unnatural mage-fire that still licked at the structures.

Danterus looked up at the sound of the familiar voice of Sir Amon, a term not many were comfortable using if he might add, but his relationship is not altogether as close to him as his father’s, yet they were still on decent terms when encounters do occur. He looked down and finally began to feel the sharp pain in his side, the blood coagulating with all the dirt from the collapse, and in definite need of cleaning lest it become infected. Standing up slowly, the loss of blood had left him somewhat lightheaded; however the previous concussion from the earlier building collapse was also effecting him at the time.

“My father? Oh yes he is in The Forge right now, but as of the others I’m not so sure, you’d have to ask Nethanial Ironarm about what he saw; I think he saw everything that happened. Come, follow me.”

Garbiel had been speaking to a physician when Amon and Danterus had first started walking towards the building he was currently occupying, the elderly man had been cleaning his cuts and wounds while using a rather higher grade wand to concentrate on healing the wound in his leg, this one needed much less preparation and must have cost a decent sum of gold. The man had departed quietly as the sight of Danterus’ shadow loomed through the doorway, currently unaccompanied by Sir Amon, but still rather anxious from earlier, nearly stuttering when he asked the physician to wait for a second to speak to his father.

“Amon is here to speak with you Father, he’s talking with Nethanial currently, the man had a much better view of what happened than us, but it shouldn’t be long before he finds his way up here. I need to have this attended to as well, but afterwards I will be leaving for a short while… I have some business to discuss with a potential client.”

Without hesitating for even a hair’s-breadth of a moment Danterus rushed from the doorway, not even daring to listen to any inquiries the worried Garbiel would have, and left to machinations only the gods could comprehend right now.

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The Gods be damned if I let those scum ruin my city, I have to speak with Gilgamesh…he’ll know what should be done at a time like this…

Danterus had relocated to a room down the hall, passing an upcoming Sir Amon as he traversed the doorway along with the elderly physician; and seated himself on a stool with his right arm extended upwards, allowing the man easier access to the wound in his right side. He winced as the small man scrubbed the particularly delicate area with a rough cloth soaked in some kind of stinging liquid that was supposed to cleanse a wound, but why the man did not use the one of the wands at his side he was not sure, and he was equally as unafraid to speak said inquiry.

“Excuse me sir, but may I ask as to why you do not use one of those wands to help speed the process up a bit?”

“Why you ask? Because these wands will only mend to flesh young man, and if you were to mend the flesh with all of this bacteria and filth inside then you would only WISH it was a simple infection. Something like this would easily damage you lungs very quickly, and without a doubt your heart would go very soon after that… SO if you don’t mind I need to cut just a little off.”

Without realizing it a numbing sensation had washed over his right side, making the vision of bad flesh being cut away from his body so alien that it seemed unbelievable, and after the man brandished one of his said wands the whole experience was washed away with the flick of a wrist. A sense of exhaustion had flooded over the young man, hearing the soothing voice of the physician that had just effected his immediate unconscious state with a special herb-infused concoction.