What is means to be 'human' (Anselm/Tasler)

[Ndale Soromund]

Season of Spring, Day 10, 512AV “Looks delicious.” No. She was not delicious. And she made her displeasure known as the man lunged along with a few others. Her wings flapping to pull her up and her feet swinging viciously, knocking those who came too close. But hands curled around her wings, pinning them awkwardly to her body. She now moved in a strange frenzied panic, honking her pain as two hands gripped her head. She could feel nothing though save for the way her wing was bent. The pain was too much and the burn raged throughout her body, her cries drowning out their voices. Stupid humans! Could they not see she was hungry as well? But it didn’t matter because there was almost a form of relief flooding through her when the tension in her arm finally broke. Snapping the tips of it back and effectively breaking the bone there. Then the realization dawned and the pain was worse, as it a thousand insects were attempting to eat their way from inside her body. A shrill cry echoed throughout and her beak sunk into a softness she equated to humans bodies. And the moment she was dropped she was running, her body careening this way and that. Twice she stumbled and injured her wing more and many more times she rolled away from the hungry pack of people. Ndale’s pain only grew more than physical when she realized she could not fly. Her wing broken and dragging behind her painfully on the cobbles of ground. Still she needed to hide she could not dwell, she could not stay. Not once did her mind think to change, she would never take on a form of something to disgusting and vile. Never! It was then she stopped it, something she was familiar with, even if she did not care much for it. The seers tent…but to enter? She heard the shouts and the people that milled anxiously in the streets, the crowd she had drawn, those that didn’t care and those that attempted to help. A human would not save her but this man was no human. What had he called himself again? A nun? No. A Nuit. And before she could even truly make her decisions her feet had already carried her inside the tent, only now did she realize a constant noise of her own pain chirps and honks. Her eyes itching as if wishing to cry but she was not in the correct form. Only now did she attempted to look, the strain from her body manifesting in her eye and making it more than difficult to see but even with poor vision she could see the way her wing did not fold and the way it bent. Wings were not meant to bend that way. A loud wailing cry left the peahen and it collapsed in a lump, content to lay there and wither away.

[Anselm]

There are not many things that can surprise a Nuit. But a panic-stricken, shrieking, honking peahen charging into his tent turned out to be one of those things. He had heard her coming, of course. She had been making a god-awful racket. But he had failed to grasp what was happening. He could see several men and a woman running toward his tent. The peahen careened into his table and then into a corner behind him. She let out a loud mournful wail and collapsed in a quivering mass of mangled feathers. He looked at Tasler, who was sitting in a chair in the other corner of the tent. Then at the peahen again. And then at the three men who had reached the entrance of the tent. He grabbed his cane and leaped forward, intercepting them before they could gain entrance. “Stop!” He boomed in a deep, gravelly voice. “What is the meaning of this invasion?” “Get outta the way old man,” said one of the three men. “I got three brats at home 'at haven't had a decent meal in three days. I'm takin' that bird home for supper.” The woman caught up with them at that point. “I know you,” she said. “You're a Nuit. You don't need food. Give us the damned bird.” A crowd was starting to gather outside the tent. They seemed to be spectators rather than participants. At least so far. But he knew the situation could degenerate into a mob riot in the blink of an eye, which was the kind of trouble Anselm did not need. “This peahen belongs to me,” he declared. “Go away. Leave us alone.” He started to untie one of the tent flaps so he could close off the entrance. “I don't think so,” said the second man. He stepped forward and gave Anselm a hard shove, forcing the old Nuit to stumble back a few steps. It also caused his hood to fall back, revealing the dark bruising under his eyes, the pieces of skin hanging from his skull and the long stringy hair falling down to his shoulders. He looked like death warmed over. In fact, he was death warmed over except for the warm part. This had the effect it always had on people. It made them gasp and back up a few steps. Then the man who had pushed him came at him again, clearly intending to do him bodily harm. Anselm thought to himself, This does not look good. OOC : Tasler, I'm not sure what your character would do in a situation like this. He has some choices. I'm looking forward to finding out.

[Narrink Akamu]

Tasler jumped from his chair as he saw there was trouble outside. At first he only saw a crowd gathering outside the tent, but as his attention hovered the situation, he saw people trapping a peahen, a beautiful albino peahen in the hands of people. The poor bird was struggling to get off the man's hands but he looked determined to bring her to his home and feed on her.
"Who do you think you are to treat an old man like this?" He said angrily at the man that shoved him as he stepped forward standing between him and Anselm "You'll have to get through me first" He said as he raised his hands waiting for the man to hit him. The man swung at Tasler without hesitation who dodged the punch barely by moving to one side, grabbing the man's arm and twisting it so he ends up facing the exit of the tent and Tasler drags him out of the tent and gently pushes him to the ground without causing more harm than hurting the man's pride. He then lunged to the second man from the trio going with a punch to the low stomach to quickly incapacitate him while Anselm tossed a fireball to the ground in front of the woman scaring her off and causing her to flee from the place, the other two regained their footing but departed advising both the Nuit and the Kelvic that they haven't seen the last of them. Tasler didn't say anything in response and turned around to check if the Nuit and then crouched to check if the peahen was alright too. "Are you ok?" He said as he gently picked her up

[Ndale Soromund]

Her first instinct was to attack; momentarily forgetting where she was but her lunge was off. The spikes of pain brought her in and out of consciousness that was rapidly regressing to pure base animal needs. But she could vaguely hear someone asking her if she was okay. It was then that she understood why humans were so angry when you asked questions where the answer was right there. Of course she was not fine! Her wing! They had broken it, it was a part of her and they had broken it. Ndale’s scream was something akin to a death cry but it successfully answered the question in a way words could not. Frantically she moved in a circle, her wing lame at her side, not able to properly fold beside her. Most likely she was only making it worse but she found she couldn’t stop. If she stopped the humans would eat her! Ah. But hadn’t the humans left? No, there were still two in front of her weren’t there? The white bird shook her head, trying to rationalize but no longer wishing to have that part of her brain. For a brief space of a second she wished she were no Kelvic, only a bird. No human form and nothing she could not understand. Yet, this is what she was. She could not change it and her mind poke through sharply, berating her for her thoughts. It was too much to think about but her mind vaguely recognized Anselm as someone who was not a threat while the person in front of her, for all his well-meaning was an unknown. Making small noises the whole way and teetering oddly she waddled over to Anselm and plopped beside him and today not even the smell of his decay bothered her.

[Anselm]

“Ndale Soromund,” said the Nuit. “What have you gotten yourself into, my dear?” He knelt down on one knee and cradled her head with a glove-covered hand while he gently explored the bent wing with the other hand. She made a pathetic chirping sound. “Tasler, nice job handling those ruffians. This is Ndale Soromund. She is a friend of mine. And she, like you, is Kelvic.” Anselm surprised himself by referring to her as a 'friend'. He wasn't much for friends and he had only met her once before. You must be getting soft in your old age, old man, he said to himself. Next thing you know you'll be running a rescue mission for lost Kelvics out of your house. “My dear,” he said to her. “I suspect you have a broken wing. Neither Tasler nor I have any medical skill. We need to take you to the infirmary to see if we can get this wing tended to. With your permission I am going to carry you there. Tasler and I will see to it that nobody harms you.” He picked her up as gently as he could and cradled her in his arms. Then he headed off toward the infirmary as fast as an old man with a bad leg could manage. The sound of people shouting could be heard coming from the docks. Anselm knew the sound. It was the sound of rioting. He ignored it. He had something more important to do.

[Narrink Akamu]

Tasler followed the old man with some hesitation of leaving the tent alone, but the fact of knowing that he saved not an animal, but saving another of his kind drew his attention, just wanting to make sure she was alright.

[Ndale Soromund]

OOCMm'kay, so I brushed up on your guys PMs and I posted, sorry it's short she can't do much but be carried Anyhow Anselm and Tasler can post again and then just have Elem Pop in~ No matter how gentle his actions and words were she still could hear the pathetic ruckus she was letting loose. Motion pained her, it would probably have been easier for her to simply switch and walk but she did not want to. Considering the last few days she had found humans to be nothing but worse than the animal they swore she was. Ndale could not really do much else. She could only watch through unseeing eyes and wonder if they would really take her to the infirmary or if they too would try to eat her. But each motion Anselm made, especially with his bad leg made her jostle and soon all though was wiped from her mind. The slow burn that erupted from the tip of wing and surged throughout her with each step was her only worry.

[Anselm]

Anselm could see the University but it was still a ways off and he was not making very good speed. Furthermore, Ndale was clearly suffering. What to do? He stopped and turned to Tasler. “Tasler, maybe you should fly over to the infirmary and find someone who can help us. It's at the University.” OOC : Sorry so short. Worked late today and need to get some sleep. If Tasler can yell up a storm at the infirmary, perhaps Elem will come to our aid .

[Narrink Akamu]

Tasler looked at Anselm "The University?" He asked in confusion. Unsure of where he had to go but not bothering to undress and transform, he simply left Anselm alone and ran forward, asking the first person that he stumbled with about the location of the University. The person just pointed to a notoriously big couple of towers, said to be the so called "University" Tasler simply hit his head and continued running to the building. As soon as he reached the entrance, he simply started screaming for help, without making any kind of specification.

[Elem Bree]

Things were slowly but surely returning to normal. Elem could hardly believe it had been two weeks, or come to think of it, even less than that, since the destruction and death of the storm,. His life, or what he thought his life was, had been completely turned over and put on its ear. The only thing that seemed to remain a constant was the need for healing. It wasn't so cut and dried, reserved for the many injuries and diseases that passed through the Infirmary. If all of Zeltiva were in perfect physical health, much more healing would remain. As he looked at his scruffy chin and tired eyes in a basin's mirror, he knew that he would have to start with himself.

His hands washed and his soul longing, he turned to continue the removal of a particularly large splinter from a sailor's foot. While Rak'keli's light could heal the wound that the wood had made, doing so with slivers of the substance inside would only cause more pain and allow infection to set in. In this case, the practice of medicine trumped the Divine healing. It was rare, but the knowledge he held and was learning always served as a fine support tool for Healing, not the other way around. Applying pressure with a small pick, the largest piece came with its own pressure. Lifting the foot by the ankle, his nose turned slightly at the seaman's wound and its odor. A pair of forceps came into play, fishing about and pulling the remaining children of the initial offender free.

It was about this time that someone began screaming outside. Elem's eyes parted from his business briefly, though this was a fairly regular occurrence of late. Looking over to Elia, he held his breath and squinted as the final troublesome piece wormed its way out with his help. He washed the oozing wound with soap and hot water, promptly passing the light of Healing over the wound for closure. Happily dropping the foot, sure that his washing was the possible first time soap had touched the limb, he dispatched the grateful sailor, only saying, "Shoes, Sir."

Elia soon returned, claiming that the young man who was yelling had a friend with a broken wing. Elem's eyes closed for a moment.

"Bring them in. I can surely imagine."

Likely a pet. More likely, a Kelvic. Both unlikely and perfectly probable, Ndale.