Tengu Reporter Quest (Touhou) (World 7 - Wheel of Time)
- Thread starter Entropy Judge
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- Internet
[X] Just keep out of the way and record what happens.
-[X] Interview those that are done fighting.
-[X] Interview those that are done fighting.
Entropy Judge
Recurring Bouts of Misanthropy
Votes are not locked.
- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
[X] Just keep out of the way and record what happens.
Ace Reporter Aya Shamimaru is on the scene!
No need to borrow animosity by interfering with the actual fight. Just take lots of photos and notes.
Ace Reporter Aya Shamimaru is on the scene!
No need to borrow animosity by interfering with the actual fight. Just take lots of photos and notes.
Entropy Judge
Recurring Bouts of Misanthropy
Votes are locked.
Battle Over Belnago
Entropy Judge
Recurring Bouts of Misanthropy
Just keep out of the way and record what happens.
You're a reporter, not a fighter, and Giselle told you to not get involved anyway … and besides, if you got involved, you'd just be tipping your hand even more. No sense letting everyone know just how strong a tengu can be, after all. Not without a good reason. You fly up a little higher and pat your companion-crow's shoulder. He sidles along your shoulder and leans against your cheek. How sweet. You chuckle as you turn your attention to the combat raging in the sky, camera ready for any good shots. The wyverns are almost evenly matched by the other flying beasts; in an individual contest, you suspect a wyvern would eventually win, but they aren't so superior in the confused dance that is mass aerial combat. And since the wyverns are outnumbered, it doesn't look too good for them.
The dragons, on the other hand, are worth any number of wyverns. Slower and less maneuverable they may be, but the lords of fire and sky are probably capable of defeating the entire enemy force, even if only one were present. It's strange, though, that the menagerie of flying beasts still entertains combat with them. They wheel and dive, tearing at wyverns or making passes at the slightly vulnerable eyes of Towato or Mouto, and the air is full not just of feathers and fur, but roars and hisses, shrieks and weeping cries. Not just from the monsters above – again, the dragons' contribution is outsized compared to their numbers – but wailing echoes up from the city below where Emroy's marauders still ravage to their hearts' content. … Of course. You look past the city, toward the scores of horsemen still charging recklessly. Either dragon could annihilate them, or even just scatter them, but if the fliers can keep them busy until they actually enter the city, then they will be safer from the dragons' wrath. For a scratch raid like this seems to be, it's actually rather well-put-together.
Oddly, considering the cooperation displayed by the attackers, there are very few riders among the attackers. You would say the same for Giselle's wyverns, but Towato and Mouto have both displayed enough intelligence to explain their cooperation, and the wyverns themselves don't seem to be doing much that any pack or family might do. The beasts that were brought by Emroy, however, despite their varied appearance, show no sign of distrust in each other and willingly swap partners as the battle progresses. The black dragon incinerates one of the remaining riders, but that doesn't seem to disrupt their unity much, if at all, so if there's anything magical going on, it's not linked to them … but then what are they staying mounted for? Considering the rather effective argument of 'dragon,' they are unlikely to be up there for reasons of health and safety. Maybe you should ask one of them? You shake your head, dismissing the idea – no sense trying to interview someone in the middle of a battle. If any of them survive, maybe you can get an interview later … but that's a rather large if.
Two eagle-lions ride a wyvern in a death-dive, their claws embedded in its wings as their beaks savage its back. The thrashing reptile kills them anyway, its long neck twisting back to fasten on the neck of one of the hybrids, and it twists to land on its side, crushing the second beast in the impact. You frown and look around at the unfriendly sky; Hardy's corps of fliers are scattered, the dragons whirling and thrashing, trying to strike at the weaklings nipping at their feet and eyes, while the handful of wyverns left alive are maintaining a tight spiral, refusing to let any individual beast attack their number. Which just means that as the force of riders enters the city, some of the flying beasts are free to descend into the city and feed on the people living there.
Giselle matches her dragons in success: wherever she fights, Emroy's followers fall, weapons and bodies broken by her scythe, while the most any of them manage against her is minor irritation. One warrior, one of the great wolf-men, presses her for just a moment, his greatsword parried three times before she steps in close and simply drives one clawed hand through his chest before throwing him off the building. But she is only one, and while she is quick, she simply isn't fast enough to deal with the marauders before they can make their mark. You look down at the swiftly-approaching horsemen, blink cock your head quizzically. Not men mounted on horses, but creatures with manlike bodies sprouting where the neck of the horse would be. They gallop through the streets, and if they are unable to enter many buildings, there are many people fleeing the marauders who can enter them, and they do not lack for victims.
Really, it's quite annoying; the city is large enough that there are so many people screaming, their fear so contagious, that it spreads. And for every would-be hero who takes up a weapon to try and fight Emroy's warriors, a dozen or more run in screaming terror, adding to the noise and confusion. It really is good that you didn't send Hatate here; she'd probably do something foolish. One of the horse-men shrieks a wordless warcry and throws his spear at you. You sideslip, dodging it easily, and fly up a bit higher before setting a blurred shield of air below you in case anyone tries shooting something and you don't see it coming.
The stench of human innards rises as cries of fear and pain fall silent, and the merely injured begin crawling from beneath piles of corpses as the marauders move on or are slain. Crippled and wracked by pain, whimpering and shuddering, they creep out of the death-mounds in search of freedom from suffering, hoping that they come across a fellow human being – and not a nightmare, not a monster, not evil given form. You can feel it, rising from the ravaged section of the city, fear and horror and terror, prayers and hopes for salvation, mourning for the lost.
"... They're probably going to cancel the celebrations, aren't they? I bet you all are going to eat well, though." The crow on your shoulder laughs. You harrumph at him, then scratch his beak. And when you look back at the city, you see someone leaping from rooftop to rooftop, fleeing toward the edge of the city. You frown as you watch Rory, covered in blood, carrying her right arm with her left but otherwise unheeding the stump coming from her right shoulder. The marauders didn't reach the temple. Perhaps one of the mounts did, but then why is she afoot? And how was she injured? You glance toward Giselle, standing in a plaza with the last of the initial wave of marauders dead around her, while Towato and Mouto fly over the streets, searching out the horse-men that still live. You glance back at Rory, scrambling down into the street, and fly over to Giselle, floating so you don't land in the blood and gore. "What happened?" She sighs and leans on her scythe.
"Normally, the servants of the slighted deity challenge the champions of the defending deity. That helps keep sectarian violence down, because the humans aren't trying to get back at one or another god's followers for massacres and such. This time, they didn't; they barely acknowledged my presence, and just slaughtered everyone they could find. And I suspect that when we get back to the temple, Rory will have escaped." You're not about to tell her that she's right, but you do look at her curiously.
"Why do you think that?" She gives you a look, then shakes her head.
"Right, you probably wouldn't know that. Rory is the Apostle of Emroy, and Emroy claims those who fall in battle. She is … a conduit to Emroy's realm, and she feels it when the souls of the fallen pass through her. It happens to me, too, if they aren't dying by violence. It … tingles. And in large amounts, it can drive her utterly berserk. She can't break those chains – but she could tear her own arms off trying, which would give her enough slack to get free. And she would probably consider everyone in the temple her enemy -" You take off again, and skid through the broken doors of the central temple. The plaza before the temple is a battlefield; inside is a butcher's shop, and you bound over the shattered benches and toward Hatate.
"I'm fine, Aya. I …." She looks down at the small body resting against her. Mora still breathes, her shoulder is a boneless ruin – a better fate than many of the injured, whose injuries will likely see them dead even with immediate treatment. "Rory started … moaning and shaking, but they kept on with the ceremony. And then she broke out," she looks at the still-burning bonfire, and the tables near it, "and I – I tried to help Mora. She's just a kid, right?" Well, at least she's fine; not only would your reputation suffer if something had happened to her – especially in such a relatively safe place as this – but you are actually rather fond of her. Once she grows up a bit and gets some more experience, you might even be able to treat her as a real rival! And she didn't try to actually fight Rory; just because you can put her arms back on doesn't mean you want that to be known by anyone here. Not with how little of it you have.
"As long as you're alright," you say, and she nods. You look back at the slaughter around you and wonder if it would have been better or worse if Wincarnis had been here. True, he's no fan of Rory's ….
What do you do?
[ ] Go back to Giselle and ask her about what's going to happen now.
[ ] Go see Wincarnis and ask him if he knows anything about what happened.
[ ] Stay with Hatate and Mora.
- [ ] Help with triage and patching up the injured.
[ ] Other?
You're a reporter, not a fighter, and Giselle told you to not get involved anyway … and besides, if you got involved, you'd just be tipping your hand even more. No sense letting everyone know just how strong a tengu can be, after all. Not without a good reason. You fly up a little higher and pat your companion-crow's shoulder. He sidles along your shoulder and leans against your cheek. How sweet. You chuckle as you turn your attention to the combat raging in the sky, camera ready for any good shots. The wyverns are almost evenly matched by the other flying beasts; in an individual contest, you suspect a wyvern would eventually win, but they aren't so superior in the confused dance that is mass aerial combat. And since the wyverns are outnumbered, it doesn't look too good for them.
The dragons, on the other hand, are worth any number of wyverns. Slower and less maneuverable they may be, but the lords of fire and sky are probably capable of defeating the entire enemy force, even if only one were present. It's strange, though, that the menagerie of flying beasts still entertains combat with them. They wheel and dive, tearing at wyverns or making passes at the slightly vulnerable eyes of Towato or Mouto, and the air is full not just of feathers and fur, but roars and hisses, shrieks and weeping cries. Not just from the monsters above – again, the dragons' contribution is outsized compared to their numbers – but wailing echoes up from the city below where Emroy's marauders still ravage to their hearts' content. … Of course. You look past the city, toward the scores of horsemen still charging recklessly. Either dragon could annihilate them, or even just scatter them, but if the fliers can keep them busy until they actually enter the city, then they will be safer from the dragons' wrath. For a scratch raid like this seems to be, it's actually rather well-put-together.
Oddly, considering the cooperation displayed by the attackers, there are very few riders among the attackers. You would say the same for Giselle's wyverns, but Towato and Mouto have both displayed enough intelligence to explain their cooperation, and the wyverns themselves don't seem to be doing much that any pack or family might do. The beasts that were brought by Emroy, however, despite their varied appearance, show no sign of distrust in each other and willingly swap partners as the battle progresses. The black dragon incinerates one of the remaining riders, but that doesn't seem to disrupt their unity much, if at all, so if there's anything magical going on, it's not linked to them … but then what are they staying mounted for? Considering the rather effective argument of 'dragon,' they are unlikely to be up there for reasons of health and safety. Maybe you should ask one of them? You shake your head, dismissing the idea – no sense trying to interview someone in the middle of a battle. If any of them survive, maybe you can get an interview later … but that's a rather large if.
Two eagle-lions ride a wyvern in a death-dive, their claws embedded in its wings as their beaks savage its back. The thrashing reptile kills them anyway, its long neck twisting back to fasten on the neck of one of the hybrids, and it twists to land on its side, crushing the second beast in the impact. You frown and look around at the unfriendly sky; Hardy's corps of fliers are scattered, the dragons whirling and thrashing, trying to strike at the weaklings nipping at their feet and eyes, while the handful of wyverns left alive are maintaining a tight spiral, refusing to let any individual beast attack their number. Which just means that as the force of riders enters the city, some of the flying beasts are free to descend into the city and feed on the people living there.
Giselle matches her dragons in success: wherever she fights, Emroy's followers fall, weapons and bodies broken by her scythe, while the most any of them manage against her is minor irritation. One warrior, one of the great wolf-men, presses her for just a moment, his greatsword parried three times before she steps in close and simply drives one clawed hand through his chest before throwing him off the building. But she is only one, and while she is quick, she simply isn't fast enough to deal with the marauders before they can make their mark. You look down at the swiftly-approaching horsemen, blink cock your head quizzically. Not men mounted on horses, but creatures with manlike bodies sprouting where the neck of the horse would be. They gallop through the streets, and if they are unable to enter many buildings, there are many people fleeing the marauders who can enter them, and they do not lack for victims.
Really, it's quite annoying; the city is large enough that there are so many people screaming, their fear so contagious, that it spreads. And for every would-be hero who takes up a weapon to try and fight Emroy's warriors, a dozen or more run in screaming terror, adding to the noise and confusion. It really is good that you didn't send Hatate here; she'd probably do something foolish. One of the horse-men shrieks a wordless warcry and throws his spear at you. You sideslip, dodging it easily, and fly up a bit higher before setting a blurred shield of air below you in case anyone tries shooting something and you don't see it coming.
The stench of human innards rises as cries of fear and pain fall silent, and the merely injured begin crawling from beneath piles of corpses as the marauders move on or are slain. Crippled and wracked by pain, whimpering and shuddering, they creep out of the death-mounds in search of freedom from suffering, hoping that they come across a fellow human being – and not a nightmare, not a monster, not evil given form. You can feel it, rising from the ravaged section of the city, fear and horror and terror, prayers and hopes for salvation, mourning for the lost.
"... They're probably going to cancel the celebrations, aren't they? I bet you all are going to eat well, though." The crow on your shoulder laughs. You harrumph at him, then scratch his beak. And when you look back at the city, you see someone leaping from rooftop to rooftop, fleeing toward the edge of the city. You frown as you watch Rory, covered in blood, carrying her right arm with her left but otherwise unheeding the stump coming from her right shoulder. The marauders didn't reach the temple. Perhaps one of the mounts did, but then why is she afoot? And how was she injured? You glance toward Giselle, standing in a plaza with the last of the initial wave of marauders dead around her, while Towato and Mouto fly over the streets, searching out the horse-men that still live. You glance back at Rory, scrambling down into the street, and fly over to Giselle, floating so you don't land in the blood and gore. "What happened?" She sighs and leans on her scythe.
"Normally, the servants of the slighted deity challenge the champions of the defending deity. That helps keep sectarian violence down, because the humans aren't trying to get back at one or another god's followers for massacres and such. This time, they didn't; they barely acknowledged my presence, and just slaughtered everyone they could find. And I suspect that when we get back to the temple, Rory will have escaped." You're not about to tell her that she's right, but you do look at her curiously.
"Why do you think that?" She gives you a look, then shakes her head.
"Right, you probably wouldn't know that. Rory is the Apostle of Emroy, and Emroy claims those who fall in battle. She is … a conduit to Emroy's realm, and she feels it when the souls of the fallen pass through her. It happens to me, too, if they aren't dying by violence. It … tingles. And in large amounts, it can drive her utterly berserk. She can't break those chains – but she could tear her own arms off trying, which would give her enough slack to get free. And she would probably consider everyone in the temple her enemy -" You take off again, and skid through the broken doors of the central temple. The plaza before the temple is a battlefield; inside is a butcher's shop, and you bound over the shattered benches and toward Hatate.
"I'm fine, Aya. I …." She looks down at the small body resting against her. Mora still breathes, her shoulder is a boneless ruin – a better fate than many of the injured, whose injuries will likely see them dead even with immediate treatment. "Rory started … moaning and shaking, but they kept on with the ceremony. And then she broke out," she looks at the still-burning bonfire, and the tables near it, "and I – I tried to help Mora. She's just a kid, right?" Well, at least she's fine; not only would your reputation suffer if something had happened to her – especially in such a relatively safe place as this – but you are actually rather fond of her. Once she grows up a bit and gets some more experience, you might even be able to treat her as a real rival! And she didn't try to actually fight Rory; just because you can put her arms back on doesn't mean you want that to be known by anyone here. Not with how little of it you have.
"As long as you're alright," you say, and she nods. You look back at the slaughter around you and wonder if it would have been better or worse if Wincarnis had been here. True, he's no fan of Rory's ….
What do you do?
[ ] Go back to Giselle and ask her about what's going to happen now.
[ ] Go see Wincarnis and ask him if he knows anything about what happened.
[ ] Stay with Hatate and Mora.
- [ ] Help with triage and patching up the injured.
[ ] Other?
Nottheunmaker
Altman be praised
- Location
- USG Ishimura
[X] Go see Wincarnis and ask him if he knows anything about what happened.
Messy! Lets see if this guy has some insight.
Messy! Lets see if this guy has some insight.
- Location
- New York
What just Happened?!
Turnabout is a fair play, Deities Edition
- Location
- Internet
[X] Go see Wincarnis and ask him if he knows anything about what happened.
[x] Stay with Hatate and Mora.
- [x] Help with triage and patching up the injured.
- [x] Help with triage and patching up the injured.
From Emroy's perspective Rory was only taken down with hired outside help, so obviously hiring outside help is just fair.
Anyways.
[X] Stay with Hatate and Mora.
- [X] Help with triage and patching up the injured.
Good chance to win some credit, we WERE told not to interfere for the rescue attempt after all, so being seen helping would cover the rest.
Entropy Judge
Recurring Bouts of Misanthropy
The Princess Bride x Hellsing.
Entropy Judge
Recurring Bouts of Misanthropy
Votes are not locked.
Entropy Judge
Recurring Bouts of Misanthropy
Votes are locked.
I'm a Reporter, Not a Doctor!
Entropy Judge
Recurring Bouts of Misanthropy
Stay with Hatate and Mora.
- Help with triage and patching up the injured.
… What's done is done, no sense wondering about could-have-beens when there's actual work to be done. "Do you have any experience with taking care of injuries?" Hatate shakes her head; it's not surprising, really, but it would have been helpful. "Alright, then just sit here with Mora and keep a gentle breeze flowing outside. I'm going to see how I can help." She nods, and a moment later the stench of the dead and dying is alleviated. You might not be much help – you're no Eirin, and caring for an injured youkai is rather different from caring from an injured human – but you do have some experience, and unlike most of the people around here, you aren't two steps from shock. And, since you're a complete outsider, you aren't going to do something foolish like try to save someone who is almost certainly going to die anyway just because he's a relatively important person.
The first and most important step is to get the healthy people doing something useful, so you start them moving the corpses into a pile along one wall. A few try to bluster and refuse to help; if they're useless, you send them out to find people who can help, but several outraged individuals demand immediate attention, so you break their elbows and send them to sit near Hatate, and after that people are much quicker to obey you. The other lightly injured also go up by the altar, most under their own power, and that gives you the opportunity to study the actually injured and see who is likely to survive with prompt care. A number of Hardy's acolytes, both from within the temple and from the hotels nearby, start arriving. Some get to work immediately, either helping to treat the injured or sorting through them; unlike you, they seem to be separating by class or rank, rather than chance of survival. No matter. Others are ordered about by either yourself or the other healers: helping treat the lightly-injured, fetching supplies, or serving as personal orderlies.
"You're a very talented woman, Emissary," one of the healers says. You nod at the middle-aged woman as you help her assistants hold down a moaning visitor so she can stitch up his stomach. "Not many people can wrangle a crowd and get them working as quickly as you must have. You've helped save many lives."
"I've had a lot of experience, and some good examples." Memories of battles – and their aftermaths, particularly – bubble at the edges of your consciousness. Officers getting people moving, healers starting to work on the fallen. It's not something tengu have to deal with, or most youkai for that matter, but you spent a fair amount of time watching humans fight among themselves. Information is the greatest tool you can have. "This isn't the only group of casualties. Around the southeastern edge of the city, a group of raiders attacked. Giselle fought them off, but they killed a lot of people." The slender four-armed man who is holding down the patient's legs growls angrily.
"Damned murderous scum. May their souls rot in this world forever!" The healer glares fiercely, but her expression and her voice are the only outlets for her emotion: her hands are as steady as they were before. A loud crunch and thump draws your attention to the side of the room, where an armored dragon-man lifts a heavy metal ball from the ruin of one of a casualty's skull. A swift and merciful death for those who cannot be saved. Of course, many of the 'saved' will die anyway, from secondary effects of their injuries, or injuries that were improperly or incorrectly treated, and many of the survivors are crippled.
"Aya? Could you come here?" You frown and look over your shoulder. Mora is sitting up against Hatate now, awake and looking at you. You nod and turn back to the healer. The patient whimpers quietly, and you pat your fingers against his shoulders, making sure your palms keep him held down.
"Are there hospital organizations in the rest of the city to take care of the people in cases like that?" The healer pauses before tying off the suture.
"Don't know, really. I came here as a favor to my friend – she was supposed to come here, but was …." She trails off, then snorts and shakes her head. "She got scared, said she didn't want anything bad to happen, and begged me to come in her stead. Didn't think much of it, she's always pulling stunts like that so she can stay at home and be pampered by her husbands, but … maybe I'll say something this time. Hm. Well, you'll live for now, at least. You two, get him somewhere out of the way." Her assistants carefully lift the man and start carrying him away, and the healer dries her hands on her once-white robes. You stand and step back, frowning at your own clothes, now indelibly stained by blood. Not all that much … but you only need a little, and then you start looking like a sloppy eater. Oh, well. You walk toward Hatate and Mora; the healer follows you, maybe interested in you, maybe just curious about how bad the injuries are. The young priestess seems to be holding up under the pain fairly well, but Hatate looks agonizingly concerned.
"How are you doing?" Hatate winces at your question.
"I … it hurts. I can't move my arm, and it hurts, but …." She takes a shuddering breath and pales as she inadvertently moves her shoulder. "I … do you think anything can be done?" She's doing a remarkable job, not crying, but the pain is audible in her quivering, voice. You stare at her bare shoulder, ragged shreds of skin sinking into the joint.
"Well, any injury that doesn't kill you can be fixed, with enough time and expertise." And a lot of injuries that do kill someone, if they know someone with enough magical skill. "I'm not sure if it wouldn't be better to just remove the arm, though. If nothing else, it would hurt less." Hatate gives you a pleading look that you ignore; does she know you have the kappa medicine? Well, you're not going to use it to save some human's arm, not without a very good reason. The healer walks past you and drops to her knees by Mora. The priestess lets loose a hissing whine as the older woman pokes her shoulder, and Hatate has to hold her tightly to keep her from thrashing uselessly – worse than uselessly, given the condition of her arm.
"Mm. If you were older, I'd suggest taking it off, but you might be able to get some use out of it. Definitely need to do something with it, though."
"Cou- could you get Granny, please?" You nod, then look at Hatate, but she shakes her head; does she feel guilty for 'getting' Mora injured? Enough to outweigh her dislike of blood? … If she does have an actual problem, is it shared among the younger tengu? That is the sort of thing the managers are supposed to keep track of, but if it's slipped through the cracks …. The elderly Mora is on her way already, rumors having informed her of something happening, so you simply carry her the rest of the way so she doesn't have to try navigating the inside of the temple. Once she's at Mora's side, you return to the plaza: Giselle has returned.
"Sorry for leaving you so quickly," you say when you get to her. "I was worried about Hatate." Giselle nods grimly, looking at Rory's handiwork.
"I understand. She is alright?" You smile.
"She is. Young Mora was injured, might lose an arm. Shoulder damage." You tap your own shoulder, showing Giselle what you mean, and she winces sympathetically. She finds a mostly clear spot in the shade and sits down, watching you. Several times, she starts to say something, but eventually she shakes her head.
"You're welcome to stay as honored guests, of course, but when you leave you will have to return the badges." You nod, wondering what it was that she didn't say, didn't want to say. Suspicions of you or Hatate, perhaps? Maybe wondering if you would be willing to help hunt down Rory?
"What will happen now? Will there be an official response to Emroy's attack, or will it just be swept aside as retaliation?" Giselle lifts her feet so they're on the seat as well and wraps her arms around her knees, the scythe leaning against her between her shoulder blade and her wing.
"I don't know. Hardy will decide, and tell me what to do. Or not to do. I'll wait until then." You frown; does she have no initiative? Or does she just not wish to interfere with possible policy decisions Hardy could make?
Well, it's not your problem. At least, it had better not be.
What do you do?
[ ] Stay in Belnago at least for the rest of the day.
- Anything in particular you want to do?
[ ] Leave as soon as you can drag Hatate away from Mora.
- [ ] Go to Rondel.
- [ ] Go to Alnus.
[ ] Other?
- Help with triage and patching up the injured.
… What's done is done, no sense wondering about could-have-beens when there's actual work to be done. "Do you have any experience with taking care of injuries?" Hatate shakes her head; it's not surprising, really, but it would have been helpful. "Alright, then just sit here with Mora and keep a gentle breeze flowing outside. I'm going to see how I can help." She nods, and a moment later the stench of the dead and dying is alleviated. You might not be much help – you're no Eirin, and caring for an injured youkai is rather different from caring from an injured human – but you do have some experience, and unlike most of the people around here, you aren't two steps from shock. And, since you're a complete outsider, you aren't going to do something foolish like try to save someone who is almost certainly going to die anyway just because he's a relatively important person.
The first and most important step is to get the healthy people doing something useful, so you start them moving the corpses into a pile along one wall. A few try to bluster and refuse to help; if they're useless, you send them out to find people who can help, but several outraged individuals demand immediate attention, so you break their elbows and send them to sit near Hatate, and after that people are much quicker to obey you. The other lightly injured also go up by the altar, most under their own power, and that gives you the opportunity to study the actually injured and see who is likely to survive with prompt care. A number of Hardy's acolytes, both from within the temple and from the hotels nearby, start arriving. Some get to work immediately, either helping to treat the injured or sorting through them; unlike you, they seem to be separating by class or rank, rather than chance of survival. No matter. Others are ordered about by either yourself or the other healers: helping treat the lightly-injured, fetching supplies, or serving as personal orderlies.
"You're a very talented woman, Emissary," one of the healers says. You nod at the middle-aged woman as you help her assistants hold down a moaning visitor so she can stitch up his stomach. "Not many people can wrangle a crowd and get them working as quickly as you must have. You've helped save many lives."
"I've had a lot of experience, and some good examples." Memories of battles – and their aftermaths, particularly – bubble at the edges of your consciousness. Officers getting people moving, healers starting to work on the fallen. It's not something tengu have to deal with, or most youkai for that matter, but you spent a fair amount of time watching humans fight among themselves. Information is the greatest tool you can have. "This isn't the only group of casualties. Around the southeastern edge of the city, a group of raiders attacked. Giselle fought them off, but they killed a lot of people." The slender four-armed man who is holding down the patient's legs growls angrily.
"Damned murderous scum. May their souls rot in this world forever!" The healer glares fiercely, but her expression and her voice are the only outlets for her emotion: her hands are as steady as they were before. A loud crunch and thump draws your attention to the side of the room, where an armored dragon-man lifts a heavy metal ball from the ruin of one of a casualty's skull. A swift and merciful death for those who cannot be saved. Of course, many of the 'saved' will die anyway, from secondary effects of their injuries, or injuries that were improperly or incorrectly treated, and many of the survivors are crippled.
"Aya? Could you come here?" You frown and look over your shoulder. Mora is sitting up against Hatate now, awake and looking at you. You nod and turn back to the healer. The patient whimpers quietly, and you pat your fingers against his shoulders, making sure your palms keep him held down.
"Are there hospital organizations in the rest of the city to take care of the people in cases like that?" The healer pauses before tying off the suture.
"Don't know, really. I came here as a favor to my friend – she was supposed to come here, but was …." She trails off, then snorts and shakes her head. "She got scared, said she didn't want anything bad to happen, and begged me to come in her stead. Didn't think much of it, she's always pulling stunts like that so she can stay at home and be pampered by her husbands, but … maybe I'll say something this time. Hm. Well, you'll live for now, at least. You two, get him somewhere out of the way." Her assistants carefully lift the man and start carrying him away, and the healer dries her hands on her once-white robes. You stand and step back, frowning at your own clothes, now indelibly stained by blood. Not all that much … but you only need a little, and then you start looking like a sloppy eater. Oh, well. You walk toward Hatate and Mora; the healer follows you, maybe interested in you, maybe just curious about how bad the injuries are. The young priestess seems to be holding up under the pain fairly well, but Hatate looks agonizingly concerned.
"How are you doing?" Hatate winces at your question.
"I … it hurts. I can't move my arm, and it hurts, but …." She takes a shuddering breath and pales as she inadvertently moves her shoulder. "I … do you think anything can be done?" She's doing a remarkable job, not crying, but the pain is audible in her quivering, voice. You stare at her bare shoulder, ragged shreds of skin sinking into the joint.
"Well, any injury that doesn't kill you can be fixed, with enough time and expertise." And a lot of injuries that do kill someone, if they know someone with enough magical skill. "I'm not sure if it wouldn't be better to just remove the arm, though. If nothing else, it would hurt less." Hatate gives you a pleading look that you ignore; does she know you have the kappa medicine? Well, you're not going to use it to save some human's arm, not without a very good reason. The healer walks past you and drops to her knees by Mora. The priestess lets loose a hissing whine as the older woman pokes her shoulder, and Hatate has to hold her tightly to keep her from thrashing uselessly – worse than uselessly, given the condition of her arm.
"Mm. If you were older, I'd suggest taking it off, but you might be able to get some use out of it. Definitely need to do something with it, though."
"Cou- could you get Granny, please?" You nod, then look at Hatate, but she shakes her head; does she feel guilty for 'getting' Mora injured? Enough to outweigh her dislike of blood? … If she does have an actual problem, is it shared among the younger tengu? That is the sort of thing the managers are supposed to keep track of, but if it's slipped through the cracks …. The elderly Mora is on her way already, rumors having informed her of something happening, so you simply carry her the rest of the way so she doesn't have to try navigating the inside of the temple. Once she's at Mora's side, you return to the plaza: Giselle has returned.
"Sorry for leaving you so quickly," you say when you get to her. "I was worried about Hatate." Giselle nods grimly, looking at Rory's handiwork.
"I understand. She is alright?" You smile.
"She is. Young Mora was injured, might lose an arm. Shoulder damage." You tap your own shoulder, showing Giselle what you mean, and she winces sympathetically. She finds a mostly clear spot in the shade and sits down, watching you. Several times, she starts to say something, but eventually she shakes her head.
"You're welcome to stay as honored guests, of course, but when you leave you will have to return the badges." You nod, wondering what it was that she didn't say, didn't want to say. Suspicions of you or Hatate, perhaps? Maybe wondering if you would be willing to help hunt down Rory?
"What will happen now? Will there be an official response to Emroy's attack, or will it just be swept aside as retaliation?" Giselle lifts her feet so they're on the seat as well and wraps her arms around her knees, the scythe leaning against her between her shoulder blade and her wing.
"I don't know. Hardy will decide, and tell me what to do. Or not to do. I'll wait until then." You frown; does she have no initiative? Or does she just not wish to interfere with possible policy decisions Hardy could make?
Well, it's not your problem. At least, it had better not be.
What do you do?
[ ] Stay in Belnago at least for the rest of the day.
- Anything in particular you want to do?
[ ] Leave as soon as you can drag Hatate away from Mora.
- [ ] Go to Rondel.
- [ ] Go to Alnus.
[ ] Other?
