Heroic stuff.
Bael throws his hat to a man standing by the by the building, getting ready to go in, he catches it out of reflex, and begins to say something, but Bael is already sprinting through the door.
The smoke is worse here, worse then he thought it would be, and in moments he’s coughing and choking on it. He pulls his undershirt up over his nose and mouth to form a makeshift mask as he strained to hear the cries over the manic crackling of the blue fire which was consuming the timbers of the house with an unnatural hunger. A ladder, burnt and charred from the fire, nearing collapse, provides the only way up to the second story of the building, where the cries- now faint and hoarse- were coming from.
With a curse, Bael begins to climb, balancing on each collapsing rung with agility born from a lifetime of experience. After a few tension filled seconds and some surprising jumps, he finally heaves himself up on to the second story landing. An unconscious man- only a few years older then him- has his shoulder pinned under a large beam, a thin girl is trying to heave the timber off, but with no luck so far.
Without a word, Bael was beside her, and with their combined strength, manage to move it enough to pull the man free. With a little help from the girl, the unconscious man is slung over Bael’s shoulder with scant ceremony.
Bael gestures at the ladder and she nods, however, at the halfway point, she collapses into a coughing heap. Blood paints the whitish-grey linen wrapped around her face a crimson red. With only a moment of hesitation, Bael heads back and scoops her up, slinging over his other, free, shoulder.
Arriving at the ladder and realizing he cannot climb back down with both his hands occupied, he sighs, wincing at the sudden pain that flares forth in his lungs and throat, then jumps.
His foot twists upon impact, spraining his ankle and slowing him down as he hastens his way out the mangled door.
The building collapses in on it’s self just as Bael exits it. Handing the injured over, shaky from the adrenaline, he reclaimed his hat from the man, smiling a small smile as he did so. He doffed it politely to the crowd, took a few steps back towards his boat, only to collapse into the dirt. He coughed up quite a bit of blood before the darkness of unconsciousness claimed him.
Damn.When Bael awakes, he’s resting in a soft bed that smells of sweet sea-grass and sea-salt. He feels a pressure in his hand, like someone is holding it, which quickly disappears as whoever was doing it noticed he was awake. Every breath he breathes feels like sandpaper rubbing over his lungs, his throat, and the inside of his nose.
His eyes flicker open, taking in the room with a practiced eye. The walls and roof is thick pine board, still crisp and sweet, next to his bed is a wicker chair, in which the girl- it takes a moment for him to recognize her - from the burning building is lounging in.
She has a thin, almost sickly frame, with long sandy blond hair, and a somewhat pretty face. Her breathing is raspy and she acts like every breathe pains her. But her voice is only somewhat scratchy, but full of concern.
“How are you feeling?”
Lungs, Throat and Inner nose hurt every time you breathe.
Thirsty.
3rd degree burns on most parts of body.
Hair still perfectly trousled.
Thin Silk Undershirt
Thin Silk Trousers
You notice most of your other stuff on a table, opposite your bed.
Hero Points:1(+1)
Health: Sorta injured, could still fight.
Spells: Lighter.
((Hmm...that was as big update...probably shouldn't do anymore like this one, or i'll start losing customers...))
Author
Topic: Isle De Manes (A suggestion game.) (Read 11563 times)