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[Ruzekiel Soren]

Fall 16, 512 A.V. A Meady Encounter: Zeke watched the whole fiasco through heavy-lidded eyes, every now and then gasping as a fresh wave of pain crashed over him. The pain he felt was nothing compared to what Blizzard had to be going through right now. He felt horrible that he was responsible for it, although it might have a chance of helping her control the bloodlust. It had all just happened so fast. He hadn’t intended to cause that much violence, so much pain for a stranger that he’d only just met. It seemed like an eternity, watching her battle the demons inside her. He knew that it was a 50/50 chance, life or death, for him and Blizzard, but she was so close to pulling through. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to watch the whole thing. When the snarling and screaming was finally over, Blizzard slowly stood up, sweaty and red-faced but with a fiercely calm expression. She looked at him through slitted cat’s eyes and for a moment he thought that he hadn’t helped anything, that Blizzard had gone completely feral, but then she spoke, in throaty growls and hisses, and from her still-recovering speech he understood, “I think it’s over.” Zeke let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, and then abruptly sucked it in again at the dull throb that shot through him from his ripped up neck to his shoulder. He cautiously stood, leaning heavily on the wall and using it as a crutch. The high of the brawl was more or less over, and now that the danger was nearly done, he felt all the damage he had gleefully sustained during the battle for Blizzard’s humanity come rushing back all at once. Zeke did not know how it was possible to be unaware of what felt two cracked ribs for that long a time. Not to mention the rapidly swelling black eye and the marks from where her nails had scratched him. Half his shirt was soaked from the collar down with blood, and his face was white. Still he was very glad to be alive, and without a dead or feral snow leopard on his hands--or his heels. He slowly shuffled towards her, warily as a wizened squirrel, and put his unbloodied hand on her shoulder, gazing at her face and smiling faintly. “You did it,” he murmured. Black spots began to dance in front of his eyes. Zeke blinked them away and shambled towards his coat, picking it up, throwing it over his good shoulder and turning again to this strange, feral-yet-not incarnation of Blizzard. He made an awkward, one handed bow and nearly fell over, but righted himself just in time. “Well, that was one very interesting night, madam. I thank thee for your company, but now I think it’s best if I...” he stopped midsentence and swayed, blinking rapidly again as if to fend off sleep. “...best if I find a doctor.” At that Zeke promptly slumped onto his knees, his eyes flickering shut. Blizzard backed away from the sodden bundle of blue jacket and began to run, leaving Zeke behind to bleed out into the street. The bell tolled three times, heralding the dawn, and the crows began to gather around the man, waiting for him to die.

[Serensskyra]

Kyra was walking around the streets of Alvadas, ignoring the tug at her throat that was supposed to be leading her home. She had just got done with the Garden of No Return, gathering herbs and whatnot. Her belt pouch, rucksack and philterers robe were filled with her findings. She loved the garden, she rarely got lost because of her plant knowledge and it was the best place to find great herbs that didn't cost her a ridiculous amount of money.

She smiled as she pulled out some leaves from a flower and sniffed it. Calendula, great for wounds. She replaced it in one of her many pockets in her emerald green philterers robe. Her eyes easily made out the ever changing streets oh the city of illusions. She wasn't too preoccupied with where she went, she found if you didn't particularly want to go somewhere the city was less likely to make you have a hard time. It was more fun to make people who had a purpose angry than those didn't much care where they ended up lost. Besides, she had her key.

It was then that she picked it up, the faint sounds of fighting. She changed the direction of her walking to walk towards the sound, not caring or noticing as the streets behind her rearranged themselves and she seemed to be coming from a dead end alley way as she took a left and got ever closer to the sounds. She didn't like to fight herself but watching it was a different matter. Fights were so chaotic and also there tended to be wounded afterwards, plenty of chances to make money. Or allies.

Kyra's money had been running low and she needed to get herself some new funds, so perhaps there would be a wounded unfortunate she could charge. Her boots made little noise as the woman made her way closer to where she remembered the sounds to be, they had ended now. A woman rushed past her and Kyra stepped away, barely even catching a glimpse of the woman. She kept walking and now her nose picked it up, the smell of blood. She stopped for a moment and opened her mouth, the taste coated her mouth and throat. Her throat constricted, she was hungry. Not necessarily for food, but more for blood. For the hunt. Her body wanted to hunt, something it hadn't been allowed to do for years. She pushed such thoughts aside, disgusted.

She continued walking until the smell and taste was overwhelming, it came from a blue, and now red, bundle on the ground. She got closer and knelt down. One long finger reached out and flicked some hair aside, a very masculine female or she was dealing with a male. She looked over a this body. A black eye, several scratches, and his neck and shoulder were slashed. She sighed. He might not live.

Well if he died he died. She might as well take him home and fix him up as well as possible. She looked him over, unsure if she could carry him. She was stronger than the average human in this form, sure. But she would still tire quickly. It would be better if she was a Dhani but that would mean she'd have to lose her pants, and if someone saw her they were likely to attack her. So human it was. First thing first though, she had to calm his bleeding. She grabbed a part of his already torn shirt and began ripping pieces up to tie around the wounds. She even took some strips from her own shirt to help staunch it. Once the wounds were mostly covered she scooped him into her arms, knowing it would tire her faster but it would keep his blood mostly on him. She set off at a slight trot, keeping her gait as smooth as possible. She let her key guide her, praying to Ionu to lead her home quickly to save this man, and her clothes.

Finally she reached her tiny home, which today seemed to be a dreary grey color. She quickly unlocked the door, it involved a few awkward shifting moments before the door swung open. She shut it behind he rand didn't bother locking it. She set the man down on the ground, as if she would get her bed bloody for a stranger, next to the hearth. She grabbed a jug of water and sat next to him, she'd have to clean the would with water first before she added herbs. She pulled his coat off carefully and then used her small knife to slice his shirt off of him, not bothering to ask her patient if he wished to have his upper clothes removed. She looked over his body, his ribs has red, swollen skin. Probably meaning broken or cracked ribs underneath. She ignored them for now, she had to get those slashes cleaned and the blood to stop flowing. . She began to slosh water on him, watching him for when he'd undoubtedly start awake from pain if he wasn't already awake.

[Ruzekiel Soren]

The first sensation Zeke became aware of was the warmth on his side and the wood floor beneath his back. Then the pain. He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but it was insistent. Half his shirt felt wet and warm, and for a moment he wondered if he had tripped and fallen into a river again. He felt like he couldn't breathe but when he tried to, it came in a gasp and his chest began to ache. What the hell happened? he thought. Before he could barely open his eyes, but now he didn’t want to. He couldn’t keep them closed forever though, and now that he was awake he became aware of something else---someone was going at him with a knife and slicing his shirt off! If they saw Steel’s pack mark on his chest, whoever this person was would think him an armed and dangerous Kelvic. He couldn’t let them see, but he could barely move without horrible pain in his shoulder. It was clear now that whatever was wrong with him had nothing to do with a river. He forced himself to open his eyes. Leaning over him was a strange woman, with piercing green eyes and green and black hair. Everything else was blurry and spotted, and he blinked slowly but it didn’t help too much. “Where....what...?” Zeke questioned hoarsely. He tried to prop himself up and looked around to see what was going on. He got a view of a grayish-walled room of a house. There was a hearth next to him and the woman was coming back with a jug of water. Another bolt of pain in his shoulder make him look down at himself. Two long, deep gashes in his shoulder travelled down his gore slick chest and ended right above his stomach. Even now they still oozed slightly, like brightly colored ribbons. The remains of his shirt were in a bloodstained pile next to him. Soaked fabric bandages had been cut off as well. Well that wasn’t helping him stay conscious. Was that blood all his? He didn’t want to know. Gagging a little, he fell back on the floor and closed his eyes again. “What happened?” he whispered raggedly. The woman said nothing and just splashed some water in the long cuts. Zeke hissed at the feeling but he didn’t fight it. She must be a doctor, otherwise why would he be here and not...well, dead? How did he end up like this in the first place anyway? Oh, right... “Blizzard!” he coughed, shooting upright again despite the pain in his shoulder. There had been a Kelvic there, snarling in the street, red eyes, red teeth, furious--with him for some reason. The memories were groggy at the moment; he wasn’t too worried. All he worried about right now was how nauseous he was getting, how much thread he’d have to use, and how much blood he’d have to wash from his only shirt later. He looked up at her through half-lidded eyes and asked quietly, “...Am I going to die?” Being a minstrel he’d heard all the songs, of men heroically taking an arrow to the knee to save the kingdom from a dragon or lake monster or some such nonsense, and here he was after doing something stupid, on a Zeke-stupid level. He almost thought of telling the strange woman sloshing water on him that he had just come from some great battle against twelve ninjas and emerged victorious. Of course that was a stupid idea. It hurt to talk, and everyone in Alvadas knew that Zeke had never been any good in a fight, although he seemed to get into them alarmingly frequently. So instead he settled for painful silence, his shoulder burning each time he took a breath.

[Serensskyra]

As Kyra washed out the wounds and looked for any clothing threads in his clothes, Gods forbid he had any in there, it was painful and tedious to get it out. She ran through the herbs she'd need. She'd have to make the tea second, else wise he might bleed out now. He'd have to deal with the pain as she washed his wounds again then started putting the salve in them. She'd need chamomile, meadowsweet, and beechdrops to clean the wound and she'd need to make a poultice. If she had a rose bush handy in her room she could make a large bandage to stop all the bleeding. She started to get up to go gather everything she'd need when the boy gasped in pain and started moving. She knelt back down, her eyes narrowed.

Why must they always move? One should stay still, blood escaped other wise. He started asking questions and Kyra groaned, she didn't have time to answer.

"Safe. You're safe." she told him and got up to go get the herbs together. She began picking things out of jars, vials, and she picked up a flask and a bowl and put them on a table. She reached into her philterers robe and brought out bundles of leaves and her rucks sack as well, until her table was covered in neat little piles of plants and glass ware.

White Sage, Chamomile, Meadowsweet, Beechdrops all went into the big bowl and she began to mix them together while adding water. She mixed them quickly until it was a mix of plants. She quickly scooped out the plants and went to the boy She supposed she should explain to him what she was doing, to calm him down. Keep his mind off the fact that he was dying. Seeing the blood still leaking from him she cursed and quickly ran the mixture through his wounds, she didn't need him with an infection. She gave him a quick smile before the liquid contacted, knowing it would hurt him badly.

Then as she got up again he asked a question, one she didn't particularly want to be asked.
"Maybe." was the only answer she had. With his blood loss he might die. Although seeing as no organs were spilling out of the gashes they weren't too deep, but blood loos was apparent. And she didn't even know if he had internal bleeding.

Kyra gathered another glass blow and set about making two things, a poultice/salve for his wounds and a tea to make him sleepy and to help any internal bleeding. Yarrow roots went into the bowl first, then nettle leaves, Comfrey was added in abundance, as well as the little amount of Shepherds purse and St.Johns Wort she had left. Dried Elder bark, Mahonia. She stopped and shook her head. She was making a large poultice, the bowl was half full and she still needed to add something to make it stick. She mashed all the herbs together and added wet rye flour as she went until it was a pulpy, stick mass. She added a little more water to it and set it by the fire to heat.

She set about making a tea this time, powdered Willow Bark went in the bow with abundance, Ladys Mantle too, to stop internal bleeding, a little Valerian for sleepy, Blue Vervain to calm him down. She added a little Yarrow as well to the mixture. She mixed it together and added a good amount of water before setting it by the fire as well, by the time she had finished the tea the poultice was finished. She got up and began to apply to stuff to his wounds, making sure it got in all parts of it. When she was done she smiled and sighed. Now she just needed bandages.

She had bought some wool sashes just for this. She went to her chest and rummaged through until she found two of the plain sashes and went back, wrapping them around the boys chest, stomach, shoulder and neck. She lifted him as gently as possible but she knew he was still in pain. Although a few of the poultice herbs were strong pain relievers. And would aid in healing harmed muscles and broken bones under the gashes as well. She got up and filled a flask from the bowl of tea and went to the boy, the tea was very warm, almost hot but it wouldn't burn him. She knelt down and offered him a kind smile, he had to trust her to drink this, and she lifted his head and held it to his lips, waiting for him to drink.

"Drink this, it's ssafe. It'll make the pain go away. It tasstess bad but it's good for you." she winced internally every time an extra s got through, she had been trying her hardest to stop her sibilant speech. She looked him over again, he'd better not die. All the work, herbs and money going into him had best not be going to waste. Although if he died she could always just take all the money and possessions he had on him, it would probably make up the cost. She couldn't very well sell a body this destroyed to a Nuit.

[Ruzekiel Soren]

“Safe, you’re safe,” came an exasperated voice from above Zeke’s head. He heard light footsteps patter on the floor, then glass clinking together, and what sounded like the rustling of leaves. Now he could detect the faint fragrances of meadowsweet and sage. This woman must be an herbalist...well, obviously, otherwise he would probably not survive to the night. He didn’t want to think it, but even if she was a master, those wounds looked bad. It was possible that he wouldn’t survive. He wished Sunny were here. Or even Etienne, that damn horse would be made into glue without Zeke there to control him. The footsteps came back, louder and louder, and then he felt her hair brush his face. He barely had time to open his eyes a little bit before she flashed a brief smile and spread a mixture of herbs in the slashes. He had never had a high tolerance for pain, so the burning sensation from the healing mixture was enough to make him scream quietly through his teeth. He gritted them together and squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers curling to grab the shirt fabric under him. His breath began to speed up. What are you, five? Zeke thought to himself. He didn’t consider himself so much of a weakling, but he didn’t know that two little cat scratches could hurt so badly! Well, to be fair, the gashes in his body were the product of an angry snow leopard, not a house cat. Even so, he tried to be still as possible. He didn’t want to hinder anyone from doing their job, especially if that job involved saving his life. Then again, that didn’t mean he had to be quiet about it. She sighed and looked down at him with a hard gaze, the gaze of a professional. It was only a wee bit comforting. “Maybe,” she said. He felt a pit in his stomach that had nothing to do with his injuries, and he almost gagged again, but luckily there was not much else in his system to bring up, so the feeling receded. The strange-looking woman set a bowl down and in it she tossed several plants. The bard was a dabbler in herbology, but he only recognized comfrey. He had no idea what it was for, although he was proud that he recognized it anyway. Zeke turned his head slightly, making sure not to stretch any wounded skin or lessen the effect of the herbs in the cuts, to watch her mix a poultice with the comfrey and some other plants he couldn’t name. His eyes squinted occasionally from a wayward stab of pain, but the rest of the time they were wide open and desperately affixed on her hands and the bowl. Maybe he would learn something before he croaked. The woman set the finished poultice by the hearth, then started heating water in a pot. He imagined it was to make tea. He got a good look at the herbs that she was putting in it, and shuddered. Valerian. That was one root he knew well. If she gave that to him, and he fell asleep, would he be dead in the morning? He refused to think about it, and simply let out a nervous, ragged breath. Time passes excruciatingly slowly when you’re lying on some stranger’s floor after nearly bleeding out. In just two minutes of silence, with no expert herbalist’s hands to watch, Zeke felt as if he’d been there for at least an hour. Knowing the unlucky minstrel, he’d be chattering idly away by now if his shoulder didn’t hurt so much. At several points he thought of his father, and his real family, the pack, Jade and Coal, but that soon became old. It was all behind him and there was no use in dragging out old memories. Instead, after a while he began to hum softly, and the humming became soft, hoarse words. “Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen. On the steep, steep side of Ben Lomon', Where in purple hue, the hielan' hills we view, An' the moon comin' out in the gloamin'. The wee birdies sing, and the wild flowers spring, While in sunshine the waters are sleepin' But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again, Tho' the waefu' may cease free their greetin'.” It was half in Vani, half in the common tongue, which made for an awkward but melodious tune. Zeke was barely aware of the humming, but it was like the purr of a cat to a Vantha to hear music, even an outcast like him. He knew his roots. The song helped clear his head, even in the midst of the pain, and eventually he could hear the water begin to simmer on the hearth. The herbalist took the tea off the fire and picked up the prepared poultice. He stopped the singing but still hummed quietly to himself with closed eyes as she applied it to the long gashes. His eyes flickered open just long enough to see her smile and sigh, her work nearly done. She got up and left, but soon came back with several cloth sashes, which she wrapped around his injuries, lifting him slightly to get the bandages to wrap snugly around. He hissed with the pain but continued to hum. It was necessary of course, for the wounds to be dressed. He wasn’t complaining. Maybe now he’d be able to actually look down at himself without fainting. She hadn’t said anything or reacted to the tattoo, and for that he was grateful. Maybe he’d scrape by on this one, as long as he paid her enough. That did leave the question of his life though. “Drink this.” She crouched down next to him and put the dreaded tea to his lips. Upon seeing his nervous face she reassured him, “It's ssafe. It'll make the pain go away. It tasstess bad but it's good for you." He had no doubt, but what if he never woke up? Still, it was better than dying in pain, so he complied and sipped at the foul-tasting concoction until she decreed it was enough. He looked up at her curiously. “Why....why are you....h-hissing so much?” he asked groggily as the tea began to take effect. She had no time to answer however, because he’d immediately fallen asleep. oocHmm, shall I complicate things with a fever? >D

[Serensskyra]

The mans gasps of pain and quiet screams had softened the Dhani's heart to him. Her kind nature dueled with her more heartless side. Of course such an internal battle was not made visible to her patient as she worked, pausing only when she picked up the sound of him singing, lightly. Some of the words she didn't understand but she found the melody pretty. Although singing wasn't good for his wounds, part of them being over his ribs but he wasn't screaming, or going into hysterics. So she supposed she preferred the singing and didn't admonish him for doing it.

Whatever calmed her patient, she supposed. As she worked she found herself humming along to it, her slightly husky tones still lighter than his. She supposed they worked well together, by musical standards. But what did she know? She was a herbalist, not a musician. As she wrapped him up, making sure the bindings were tight enough to keep all his blood in but not too tight as to totally stop blood flow, she noticed something she hadn't picked up the first time she had looked over him. She had been too concentrated on his wounds to notice much else about him. On his chest was a tattoo, the design was familiar to her. But only in the most vague way possible. The kind of familiar that meant she had seen it only once, many years ago. She had lived over a hundred years, there was no telling when she had seen it and it didn't really strike her as too important. Perhaps she could ask him about it later, tattoos were something she found interesting.

She smiled lightly at the boys face when he tasted the drink, of course she could've made it taste better but where was the fun in that? She would've missed that lovely expression he made when the brew touched his tongue. She grinned, secretly, to herself.

She dropped her happy expression when he asked about the way she spoke. She smiled to him, although it held no warmth.
"I am Dhani." it was probably the last thing the boy heard before he fell asleep. Getting up Kyra went to wash her hands before she started cleaning up the herbs, replacing them in vials, gathered in bunches and hung up on the ceiling or left on the table. She left the poultice in its bowl, there was still half of a bowl left. She'd need it for later. And she left the tea alone as well. No point in making more later.

She gathered up the boys shirt, or rather the rags that were left of it. She rinsed it off as well as she could with water and left the heap of rags by the hearth to dry. She covered the boy with his jacket, which was much less ruined. It would be good as new with some sewing, she assumed. She didn't sew well so she had no idea if it could really be fixed, she just thought it looked like it could be.

She pulled off a pillow and blanket form her bed, where she rarely ever slept normally, and put the pillow under the boys head and the blanket over him. She undressed herself, putting her clothe sup and hanging her robe up. Her rucksack and belt pouch went into the chest and she sighed and let her body shift into it's snake form. It really was relaxing, even if it looked grotesque. Her arms fused to her torso and her legs melted together. Scales extended over her body as the bones cracked and popped, her body shrunk and lengthened. Bones disappeared and soon she was a snake. And what a snake she was, a black tailed rattle snake with green base scales and black scales over it in diamond patterns. A wedge shaped head with a black band over her nose. She slithered close to the fire and curled up and went to sleep, not really concerned with the fact that if her guest woke up and saw her he'd freak out. He couldn't very well get up and kill her. She was the one with more power over him right now, and turning into a Dhani only took her thirty seconds. She could kill him easily.

Although the thought of killing a human stung her, it made her slightly sick. So she pushed away thoughts like that and let herself fall asleep. Dreams carried her away in soft arms.

OOCHey you think I didn't plan for that, some of those herbs in that drink are fever reducers. You are not a kind person to your character, you know that?

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[Ruzekiel Soren]

“I am Dhani,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. They glinted green in the firelight. Weren’t Dhani snake people? And why on earth would a Dhani be helping him? That was no matter. Snake or not, he felt a distinct connection with this woman. She got up and began to rustle around, cleaning things up with rustling herbs and clinking glass, even as he felt his eyes start to get heavy. Actually it was more likely that he just felt a connection because, for one, she saved him from death, and two, the tea wasn’t that bad after all. In fact it was rather...lilacs?...z z z Z Z Z Z z z z z z Z Z Z Z z z z z . . . When Zeke woke up it was to a lessened pain and the sound of soft hissing breaths, not quite loud enough to be snores, coming from his right. Someone had put a pillow under his head and draped a blanket over him while he was out, and as much as he wanted to take advantage of the warm makeshift bed, he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep again. He was incredibly sore, and now the bandages started to itch. Why must bandages always itch? He controlled the urge to scratch. Having lived in a sheep pen Zeke understood how zen one has to be in order to ignore the bedbugs biting at those awkward unreachable places on their back at night. To distract himself he turned his attention towards the deep, slow breaths coming from the hearth. He didn’t want to sit up just yet for fear of ripping or irritating anything, so he simply shifted his body to the side, on the side of him that hadn’t been savaged by a gigantic homicidal cat, to explore his surroundings. He got a rude awakening when his eyes found the giant snake coiled up next to the fire, only a foot away. Zeke nearly jumped, and quickly regretted the sudden movement, both in his head and his wounds. He’d never particularly liked snakes, although he found them to be beautiful creatures. They were terrifying, but mysterious. For a moment his only thought was a question of Who the hell let the giant snake in? Then he noticed its coloring and it dawned on him. It was the herbalist who’d been caring for him all this time. He was right next to a sleeping Dhani! Fancy that. Though most people would have the wherewithal to be frightened, Zeke just regarded the beautiful black and green scales with awe. A sleeping snake was much less scary than an attacking snake, that was for sure. Besides, she wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble if she were planning to kill him. Unless she liked to play with her food...he batted the thought away like a fly. That was ridiculous to think. For some reason this woman had wanted to help him, and did, spectacularly so, and there would be no scrutiny on his part. She’d earned that through her trouble. Zeke wondered if the Dhani woman were like a Kelvic. If she had changed into her snake form, then what happened to her clothes? He felt his face grow hot with embarrassment and he rolled onto his back again with a wince, avoiding the thought, even though he knew the answer. He’d lived with Kelvics since he was 12 years old, but those Kelvics were family, so it wasn’t as awkward. Still, he couldn’t help but smile a little bit. The twitchy minstrel really wanted to get up, if only to walk around for a few minutes, but he wasn’t at all sure of the status of his injuries and he didn’t want to wake the deceptively pretty-scaled snake for fear of getting his face ripped off. After a few minutes he felt well enough to prop himself up just a little on an elbow, despite the infernal soreness in his chest, and take stock of the little house. The fire was a comfort to his side, and loosened up his shoulder somewhat, but he still didn’t dare move it. He kept that region immobile, especially with the dull throbbing pain that accompanied it even before he was up and moving about. There would be no harm in simply sliding into a cross-legged pose though, so that he did, and stared into the fire, wincing and putting a hand to his chest every so often, twirling a strand of bluish-black hair in his long fingers. He picked up a few flaming twigs at one point and made designs in the blackened dirt with those, but he didn’t think his healer would approve of him playing with the hypnotic fire, so he let them be. When she woke up he would probably still be sitting by the hearth to give her a wide grin and a friendly hello. oocOH, willow bark is for fever, isn’t it? Silly me. I do tend to get sadistic about my characters. But that’s what makes them so loveable. xD

[Whimsy]

Ruzekiel Soren

Experience	Lore
+2 Observation	Extensive Injuries
+1 Singing	Being Rescued by a Stranger
	Recognising The Scents of Herbs
	The Dhani Snake Form

Serensskyra

Experience	Lore
+1 Tracking	Herb: Calendula
+3 Medicine	Repressing Urges
+3 Herbalism	Recognising Broken Ribs
+3 Philtering	The Risks Associated with Blood-Loss
	Preventing Infection

Comments
Kyra, you are really very detailed, and it's really nice to see that. You definitely put effort into understanding what your PC is doing, you don't just make it all up on the spot. Ruzekiel, I'm sorry I couldn't give you more experience but you didn't do very much in the thread, practically. But reading the quirkiness of your character even while you were dying was a fun read. I know this was submitted incomplete, but it seems that Ruzekiel has somewhat returned, so I graded him as well. PM me with any questions or concerns.

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