This is for adding a Search Category to the thread.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
We got our wires crossed in Chat Mark the RPer - I was under the impression you were talking about the non-active Bad House plot and your continuing scene with it
Mark liked this post
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Continuing post correctly since we've sorted out that mess. Sorry about our crossed wires there. After sorting out the issue YYC clarified and gave a surgical removal attempt -4 for tools and -1 for conditions, allowing the +1 for coaxing the spirit. He also declared a single success removes the object and keeps her alive while he does it.
The Benchmade comes out, his magical tool, finely crafted and well maintained, but the sharp instrument was not made for this type of work. He activates the spring, and the blade comes forth. The Shaman whispers to his trusty blade, coaxing the spirit within with the subtlest of imago, "Cut well and cut true old friend. I've never needed you to be so sharp"
The surgeon cuts, blood pours forth, the conditions are less than perfect. He avoids arteries and organs with a steady hand. He is successful in finding and removing the foreign object, with careful navigation the blood loss is a minimum. This is battlefield surgery, trauma surgery, 3rd world country saving a life in the worst of conditions with no supplies surgery. This is the dark ages and the Shaman does not shy from the challenge. For the second time today he triumphs despite the odds. He feels like a god. Like the first time he cut solo as a surgical intern, the first time he removed a tumor from a brain as a resident neurosurgeon, getting to pick his hospital from offers to be an attending with research benefits. The device is placed to the side, forgotten for the moment while he works to ensure his patient will live.
The knife is set aside, the cutting done and another imago is formed, he pushes it into existence as he hands apply pressure to the wound. The deadly bacteria that could be infecting the woman, killing her after it's done, is changed, transformed by a single protein to help with healing instead of hindering it. It won't last forever, but it's a start. That bacteria will multiply, and help take root before the spell ends. It gives her a fighting chance. Long enough to dump her at a hospital he hopes.
Anima is the Surgeon Supreme
Pre5 (Authority)|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
bookkeeping, missed a dot there
Pre5 (Authority)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Presence
Education
Occultation
The Guardian observes in awe as the doctor proceeds with the surgery. Call him impressed; nevertheless, the good Doctor has failed to notice a single important detail.
The Woman is a thaumivore, they know for certain that she's drained a Hallow and the strange happenings in this very warehouse are further proof of that.
They have no idea of how her curse is going to react to this latest round of spellcasting.
He shakes his head.
Mark liked this post
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Presence
Striking Looks
So was Anima just going in? Without gloves? This is how the Carona virus was going too come to the Concilium wasn't it.
Pixel reaches out to Pandemonium to fold space and retrieve the doctor's bag but fails. Totally not because Winter scared the shit out of him again. Nope.
He tries again and successfully retrieves the bag, with whatever medical goodies it might hold. Rather then standing near the woman and risking Winter's ire though he simply rests it on the floor a few feet directly behind Anima.
"Here you go."
The words are just above a whisper, avoiding any undue burden to the Shaman's concentration.
4 suxx Apportation on second try, -2 Mana
Date Action Roll Result 2020-03-12 18:35:21 Pixel rolls 7 to Imp Apportation (Gno+Space+HS-1) (10 Again) 6, 10, 7, 10, 7, 10, 7, 7, 6, 8 4 successes 2020-03-12 18:35:06 Pixel rolls 1 to Paradox (Base-Mana1) (Suxx as backlash) (10 Again) 2 failure 2020-03-12 18:28:29 Pixel rolls 1 to Paradox (Base-Mana1) (Suxx as backlash) (10 Again) 2 failure 2020-03-12 18:27:24 Pixel rolls 8 to Imp Apportation (Gno+Space+HS) (10 Again) 2, 1, 5, 3, 5, 3, 1, 4 failure
Yumyumcrow liked this post
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Anima, for so long the butt of (often self inflicted) jokes...
Proves himself.
With calm, mechanical, motions the Shaman sets to work. An immediate lack of tools - ameliorated by Pixel - coupled with poor conditions, stand against the surgeon. He carries on, anyway - enhancing his tool with a spell. With a focussed cast to his demeanour, Anima cuts open the woman's abdomen and digs though the mash of guts and organs until he finds something solid and inorganic. Grunting, wiping his perspiring face on his sleeve, he works to carefully pull the object away; to slice what is holding the object to her spine and pelvis.
Along the way he feels one of her organs - yes, it is riven by sharp crystalline growths - but he has no time for further study.
With a final tug he slips the slick inorganic block free from her stomach cavity, places it to one side while desperately sows her up with whatever he can find in his kit-bag and with whatever garments he can find among her belongings.
The woman will need hospital care to fully recover, given the nature of the operation. And her other problems.
The block is a rectangular box made from a selection of woods with some broken attachments - a glass cylinder; some peculiar knobs and wires. One side is caked in Tass bearing crystals. The whole object is covered in a slick liquid - not just blood but something else.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Bandages placed, bleeding stopped, and item sitting in all it's gorish glory on the ground, the gloves come off. In a practiced motion, they are removed, inverted, wrapped around one another and stowed for safe disposal later. He grabs another pair from his bag, putting them on with a smirk and a snap. While he works, he forms another imago, this one not well practiced and slips from him at first. A line is missed in his minds eye, a whole corner drops out and then the spell fails entirely. Weary and frustrated he tries again while he cleans and stows the blade. This time the imago snaps into place and his understanding of the way magic moves through an item is opened. Maybe it was the closeness and familiarity of his tool intimately being cared for that helped him, he'll never know.
His gaze falls upon the item, wordlessly. The doctor's mouth has two speeds, non-stop or nothing.
He begins to study the awful thing.
Pre5 (Authority)
Hiver liked this post
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
bookkeeping
Pre5 (Authority)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Contacts (Finance)
Contacts (Digital Networks)
Contacts (Academia)
Trained Memory
Abacus simply sat patiently, ready to receive instruction should his assistance be required. As the Shaman worked and the Sleeper...well, slept. He considered the variables before him. The operation itself. The strange substances being removed from her body. Her resonance. Anima's tools. The dilapidated walls. The time of day. The position of the Pleiades in the sky above.
His eyes settle on the item in question. This crude artifice of crystal, glass, and wood. Would the threads of Fate spin outside this house of pain and death, or simply compound upon the obvious and light this victim up like a Christmas tree in his mind's eye? He hoped for forward motion, but expected circles on circles. Null and Alternative.
His formulation came from his mouth in hushed utterance, his mudra compact, yet precise. He counted on Anima's preoccupation to give him space to concentrate.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Presence
Education
Occultation
He'd be lying if he claimed that the idea of blasting those fools to smithereens hadn't crossed his mind... more than once actually.
But again, the ball was rolling, and they better play. "Yo", he says, "she might have lost consciousness, but that doesn't mean she's not what she is", and he'll leave it there. Because all the points the Libertine had gained with him, were lost in an instant.
And while they're all too busy studying the device to pay any attention, he remains alert, because he hasn't forgotten that they're in hostile territory.
Draft this Post
Status (Neurosurgeon)
