[Flashback, Wasteland] Sting (Solo)

[Oluse]

The transection was swift at that point, Oluse had a firm grip on Yurvik. The man would have been more than capable of throwing the boy off before his weeks in bed, but he had lost too much strength to the infection. With a strong jerk, Oluse finished severing the tendons along the back of Yurvik's leg just as the blood came to a reluctant end. He then peeled the muscle he had cleaved back to expose a narrow stretch of blood encompassed bone.

Focused his hand seemed to move on it's own. Setting the carving knife back in it's place, and nimbly reaching around for the saw. Firmly he grabbed hold, careful not to cut himself as he placed it upon the exposed bone, muscles jerking and shaking to either side of his precise workspace, blood still dripping from his face and the unforgiving wound.

With one eye still open up began to saw away between the set of transected muscles, working to part the leg with haste. But, with horror his bloody hand slipped from the smooth handle of the saw, the toothed maw of the contraption cut deep into the disconnected tissue inferior the opening.

"Maevon saw."

[Oluse]

He gave the command without hesitation or compassion. The women's hands were still clean of blood, and her mind more seasoned at sawing at wood. He gave no thought to the implication, the fact he had ordered a wife to cut away at her own husband's limb as he lay bleeding and screaming for mercy.

Oluse did not wait for objection or hesitation, he moved gracefully back, taking the carving knife with him setting it precisely to the right of his new location, and shoving Maevon with some force toward his previous spot. He did not watch as the horrifying hollow sounds began. He focused all his strength and attention on pushing down on Yurvik, holding him in place.

Oluse knew it was time for the last step as the empty twang of saw blade struck hard fur covered stone below what was moments before Yurvik's leg. Without looking to the wound, he let go of Yurvik and turned toward the glowing red coals.

[Oluse]

His hand, slowly being claimed by the frigid air and rapidly cooling blood, took a brief drunk into the burning pot of water as he move toward the fire. Not even a moment enough to clean all the blood from his hand, and it was back out and reaching for the handle of the pan. His palm wrapped around the hot leather wrapping, which he could smell burning as the drops from the watery splash landed with a sickening sizzle upon the flat of the tool.

Oluse turned again, seeing Maevon hunched over Yurvik's face. "Hold him down!" He snapped with urgency. He was furious, for they were not done yet. Maevon responded more sluggishly than before, her mind and tear filled aurora eyes slowing her. But, she did as requested and held what was left of her husband down as Oluse approached with his glowing wand.

The pan's heat could be felt in contrast to the hot air from more than a foot away, the pan had past a blackened state to a dull glowing orange. Oluse looked down at the open wound, in preparation for the satorization. It was gaping with blood at it's base, muscles still twitching around it, and a single ribbon of unevenly cut flesh running upward to the half severed tourniquet. Oluse reached down and pushed the remaining muscle back into place over the wound, took a deep and brief breath of foul air, still tasting of copper, before pressed his tool downward.

[Oluse]

The connection sounded like a small explosion. Hissing and sizzling, as a fine mist evaporated upward, carrying with it the sickening smell of burning flesh. The pan was awkward to wield in Oluse young untrained hands, and the burns were done inexpertly, causing more damage than they should have.

Oluse quickly cast the pan to the stoney corner of the unsanitary cave, with a slight yelp as the heat burned into his palm, having passed the thin layer of water coating it.

As he drew back around, his mind reeled, desperately grasping for the next step, the next challenge. But all it found was Yurvik, the muscles upon his leg transposed in a gruesome and ineffective jumble. And, his wife draped over him, crying and begging for forgiveness, begging with words that could only be heard through wailing cries. A lack of controls and dignity unknown in the women before that moment. And Oluse had no more to do.

[Oluse]

His own words permeated his mind as the event began to finally set in. "97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102..." The ticks came tempered upon his lips, as if they belonged to somebody else. He stopped counting, and looked again at the wound. It needed a couple of minutes to cool then the tourniquet would need to be removed. His mind, however, slowed to a stand still at that moment. His stomach lurched and his head grew pained and airy.

He stumbled for the corner, away from Yurvik as he regurgitated his sustenance. The burning acidic continence of his stomach spilled out through his lips, his face growing red. The smell just added to the foul odor of the room. He vomited everything, then kept going. Choking and spitting up what little moisture could be found, then moved onto painful dry heaves.

He watched after a few minutes as Maevon cut the tourniquet free, for he could not. He laid curled in the corner, shaking and crying. His throat burned, his head pounded, and even when he closed his eyes he could only see that blood, and feel the sensation of rending flesh beneath his carving knife.

[Oluse]

Yurvik died early the following day. They left his body. Maevon took only his supplies, and a handful of sentimental belongings.

[Cheshire]

Character: Oluse Experience: Rhetoric +1, Medicine +3, Observation +1, Meditation +1, Leadership +2 Lore: Amputating a Limb Additional Note: I gotta say, this was hard to read. Not because it was not good. In fact, it was really good! Medical stuff, especially stuff like that always gives me the creeps. PM me with concerns.