Private Tales Poison and Venom

[Ishmael]

ALLIRIA

You're making a big deal out of nothing.

That was the last time that Ishmael would listen to the bravado of his compatriot over his own instinct. The sable-skinned man had been living the sellsword lifestyle for many years now. He knew how to tell if a wound was fatal and if a man would live to fight another day. Hell, he could tell if a man was wounded by the way he walked - or limped. While the knowledge of treating said ailments yet eluded the mercenary, he knew when injury had been inflicted upon his men.

And against his better judgment, he had listened to his comrade's bravado.

The source of the injury had been a recent mission. A sorry sod had racked up a debt far too high and needed to pay, one way or another. The bounty was a simple retrieval job - nothing they hadn't done a hundred times over. What they didn't expect was the poisoned dagger in the mark's possession. He didn't know how to wield the damn thing, let alone inflict a killing blow. But Barbatos, Ishmael's second, had gotten a scratch on his wrist. He quickly sucked the poison out and applied a potion and salve, claiming that he'd be just fine.

Within the next few hours, he was the furthest thing from fine.

Had they returned to their desert hideout, the man would have been beyond saving. Luckily, their business had kept them in the city where finding a healer was a possibility. Two of Ishmael's subordinates helped carry the man into the tavern where one was supposedly working. Usually, the sellsword operated with more decorum, but time was of the essence. Striding forth, Ishmael reached the bar and eyed the owner. "I'm in need of a healer, now. Coin is no obstacle."

For he would not lose one of his few friends. Not to this. Not like this.​

Eenia Vahn​

 

[Eenia Vahn]

Returning home had not been on the agenda. In fact, it had been a long, drawn out decision that was tossed about for days. But ultimately, Eenia had, had little choice when all was said and done. She had reached a point where her supplies were running low, where her coin was nearly spent - which happened much more quickly when one was doing their work out of kidness rather than doing it for profit - and she was closer to the city than she was anywhere else at that particular point in time.

So, the blonde healer had ventured home, and yet did not venture back within the folds of her childhood abode. No, instead she did her best to steer clear, and took up temporary residence within the confines of a tavern. The deal was simple enough; a room was granted to her to work out of, and she shared her profits made from healing with the Keeper of the establishment, and she received room and board while she saved up to get back out of the city. It worked out, and thus far word had not traveled to her family that she was here.

It had been some time now since her return, and word had gotten around to those traveling that a healer was available. Case and point, when the tavern was entered by a group of men who had clearly heard as such. When questioned about said healer, the Barkeep lofted a brow at the man speaking, and looked him over for a long moment before pointing behind him.

Eenia was stood in the doorway of the room she worked from, her hands wringing gently in front of herself as she looked this group of obvious mercenaries over. She was hardly an impressive looking thing, being small and slight in frame. But she offered these men a soft smile regardless, "I'm the healer." Her voice was soft in nature, but strong enough to be heard above the bustle of the tavern crowd. "Bring him here, I can help." She both instructed and assured, and stepped aside to allow passage into the room.

 

[Ishmael]

When the answer to his call arrived, the sable-skinned man had to look down. Before him stood a woman who was much shorter than he. Her voice was quite soft and her appearance was the definition of non-threatening. Fortunately enough, that was what his ailing comrade needed. Despite the bustle of the tavern, Ishmael was able to hear the young woman and he helped guide his ailing comrade forward.

The room that the young woman indicated was cramped to say the least, but it would do. After all, beggers certainly could not be choosers. Given the situation, Ishmael helped lay his comrade down upon the sole table in the room before facing the healer. He made the deliberate motion of thumping his hand upon his coin purse as if to illustrate that his offer was indeed good.

"He was poisoned. No clue what sort of toxin." he began. "Can you save him?"

Eenia Vahn​

 

[Eenia Vahn]

Eenia had allowed this grouping to carry their ailing friend into the room, though had to lift a hand to keep them all from entering. The room was not large enough to accommodate the party. And even then she allowed those to remain at the door and had to weave her way through to the bedside.

She gave this man a long, slow looking over before she reached a delicate hand out to hover over - but not touch - the length of his body from his mouth down to his stomach. Her eyes had closed and there was a very slight parting of her lips as she did this. And then there was a hint of a smile on those lips, her eyes came open, and she turned her head to look at this apparent leader of the group. "I can." she answered him, and then made a gentle shooing motion to get him to step back.

From there the small blonde took only a moment to gather a clean cloth and a bowl. She turned this ailing man's head to the side with gentle hands, set the cloth over her shoulder, and then moved so that her hands pressed against the man's belly. She exhaled a slow, steadying breath and then began to push. There was a strong crease of concentration between her brow, but she continued to breath steadily and push. Soon her hands began to push upwards, up along his body, slowly and carefully. She did this all the way up his frame and over his throat until discolored bile evacuated from the man's mouth into the bowl.

"There it is." she frowned a bit, but then repeated this process. She did this a handful of times, the same motion again and again until there was nothing left to pool from the man's mouth. She had even had the other men help turn him onto his side for the last two times to make sure, and then allowed for them to lay him on his back again. From there, she cleaned this man's face, made sure his mouth was clear, and then tossed the cloth aside as well.

Only then, when she was sure the toxin was gone, did she reach both hands out over this man's chest again. There was a soft, gentle warmth that emitted from her hands, and she roamed them over the entire length of her patient's body. Wounds knit back together, and lingering effects of the toxin would fade as well. And then Nia took a step back. She looked him over again, then nodded to herself before looking at the leader.

"He will continue to feel worn, maybe even sick to his stomach for a day or two. But he will live, and he should not come out of this with any permanent damage from the toxin." She smiled a little easier, "He'll probably wake hungry, but I wouldn't let him have anything but soups and broths for a few days, no matter how much he begs otherwise."

Ishmael