TIMESTAMP: 5th Sun's Zenith, 122
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NOTES: -
► Show Spoiler
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Accompanying a distressed Vergil and barely conscious Hector down to the surgery theatre was a woman, one they did not know. Given the reverence with which the general crew were treating her, however, one can imagine that she was of, at least, some import. Honestly, she had the confidence and grace of a leader– she could easily be the ship's captain. Should that be the case, Vergil would be a bit surprised and even more appreciative for her assistance than he already was. After all, one would imagine that the captain herself would be occupied elsewhere rather than assisting these two complete strangers. Regardless of who she was, though, her quick identification of the various tools lying about was an incredibly kind gesture in his eyes.
"Thank you, really. He's…very important to me." The strain in his voice was as audible as the worry written all over his face was visible. The doctor held a haunted sort of expression reflected from eyes of gold as he bid the woman farewell with a small nod.
If Hector were to die, he'd have nothing from his life in Zaichaer. Not a soul. The thought of being utterly alone was unpleasant enough, but at this point, if the elf died it would be his fault. He'd be a failure as a friend, as a protector, and as a doctor all in one. The vampyre failed to lead him to safety without harm and he failed to protect him from that powerful blow, so what use would he be if he failed again, here? If medicine was his calling, as he firmly believed it to be, what purpose would his life serve if he failed to save his cherished friend? If one cannot save somebody so dear, what future did he really even deserve in this field?
For Vergil, if he were unable to fix his companion here, such a failure would haunt him for a painfully long period of his unnaturally extended life. That is, if he even lived that much longer in the aftermath. Practicing medicine in general would be hard. He'd likely break, and if he broke, establishing and maintaining a brand new life would be…very difficult. And so he steeled himself– he had to succeed.
Once the room had cleared, he very gently laid the broken elf down on the table before him. Delirious from pain, even warped through Vergil's maintained Pheromancy, Hector turned his head to face his mentor and gave him the softest of smiles. A genuine one, reaching up to his eyes despite everything. Though he lacked the energy to speak, he wanted his companion to know he had complete faith in him.
The damage was extensive– both limbs on his right side were shattered, some of the ribs were cracked, and the bruising and other soft tissue injuries extended all over the affected areas. Should he, for any reason, have to stop midway through, it would benefit Hector more to have his hip and leg fixed before his arm. The arm itself was secured to his torso to prevent movement and thus as much discomfort as possible. His lower half had no such mercy. Therefore, it was there he would start.
Looking through the supplies he and Hector brought with him as well as what tools the airship possessed, he managed to locate a pair of shears. With those, Vergil cut free the injured leg from the confines of the elf's pants and, frankly, what lay underneath was…extremely unfortunate to look at. While the reinforced flesh Hector had crafted with his Vicissitude prevented any skin from tearing, the leg itself had clearly broken in numerous places, the foot was shattered and he was surprised the ankle even functioned at all. The way it sat at his hip socket looked warped, too. On top of the very obvious skeletal injuries, his pale skin was marred with shades of purples, blues, reds, and in some places, it was dark enough to look black. The whole thing was a misshapen mess from bones poking against the skin and the body's swelling in response to an injury. The fact that the young vampyre was even able to lift it up the ladder at all was actually somewhat disturbing given this. Were he not a Necromancer, and honestly without the use of Vitalis, his leg would likely be unsalvageable.
It would also just be, in general, a lot of work to fix. He could see a lazier doctor just chopping the thing off and saying, 'you want another leg? Have one reconstructed,' which…was not something he was going to force his beloved companion to endure. Living without a limb, even if it were temporarily, can be extremely traumatizing. Arguably, so would conscious surgery but, ah, neither choice is a good one, here…and Hector's lived through some questionable procedures before, just never lost full limbs.
Once he heard the engine of the ship kick back in and they started to properly move, he began. One could choose a variety of points to start with here, given everything that's broken. Vergil chose to start with the hip in this case, since it served as the leg's anchor. Using his carving hook, he created a large Y-shaped incision with the center of the three cuts about two inches below the hip socket and the longest extending down to just above the knee. When using magic, a surgeon can freely use much larger incisions because patient aesthetics aren't a concern; there won't be any scarring regardless.
The first cut resulted in a shiver running through Hector's body and a flinch of his features. Golden eyes flitted to his patient's face, a flicker of sorrow reflected within, and then immediately went back to his work. While he maintained the cast of Pheromancy to alter the other's reception of pain, that didn't mean the sensation was at all numb. He could still feel everything with every bit of intensity one would normally feel pain, the difference was that it wouldn't register as…well, pain. Something more like pressure, something almost pleasant, but even so, more intense stimulation wouldn't exactly be comfortable and could easily still overwhelm those with sensory sensitivities.
Alone, Vergil could freely use Vitalis to suit his needs. As the carving hook drew across skin, the mage made immediate use of Crystallize to prevent any of the lacerated flesh from bleeding. Given he would ultimately be working on bone, his cuts went deep, piercing through skin as well as muscle. It was very clear that his patient did not enjoy such a thing, his one good hand gripping the table as a pitiful sound whine escaped his lips. Once the full incision was done, he used a pair of embalmer's tongs to push back what flesh lay in the way.
Internally, it was exactly as much of a disaster as the external damage had warned him of. What wasn't broken was cracked, splinters of bone had pierced into muscle, and the connective tissue of the joint was just barely holding on. Blood from the internal damage was pooling into the cavity he created, and using a combination of Crystallize and Vicissitude, he both regenerated torn flesh and sealed what wounds had to remain for the sake of his vision. Before stopping the bleeding entirely, he used Thaumaturgy to manipulate the spilt blood and draw it back into the elf's circulatory system. There was no reason to waste it, really.
Now that the site was clear, he could freely work on the damaged bones and connective tissues. Ever so gingerly, he moved the tongs and replaced them to give him the most vision of the area around the hip socket. Much as he wanted to be quick as to not prolong the other's suffering, this wasn't really the place to be reckless. With a gentle touch, he rest the tips of a few fingers against the femoral head. In doing so, he used a combination of his own Vitality and Hector's to cast Vicissitude again, binding the bones back together again. Next, he adjusted the placement of the femoral head as it was not properly socketed anymore. Poor Hector did not like this– even with Pheromancy, the gesture pulled a strained cry from the elf's lungs.
Once placed, he resumed flesh crafting to repair the ligaments and membranes in the area. Some of the tissue had been completely severed from the femoral trochanter entirely, while some was just barely hanging on. Vergil was very careful to make sure everything reattached properly; the last thing he wanted was to have to go back in and fix something later because it ripped, broke, or otherwise hurt with movement.
It took some time, but finally, the upper part of the femur and the hip were repaired to the surgeon's standards. Withdrawing the embalmer's tongs, he moved them down the leg to get better sight of the rest of the bone. Strong as it was, the femur was not without wear in this scenario. Though his hands were fairly large, he handled them with an impressive level of dexterity and precision when it came to picking shards of bone free from swollen flesh. Using a combination of manual manipulation and magic, he put each piece carefully back where it belonged and then sealed the tissue in the area together with Vicissitude. He was exactly in the process– again, it was not the fastest, but Hector’s thigh and hip were now good as new.
"Thank you, really. He's…very important to me." The strain in his voice was as audible as the worry written all over his face was visible. The doctor held a haunted sort of expression reflected from eyes of gold as he bid the woman farewell with a small nod.
If Hector were to die, he'd have nothing from his life in Zaichaer. Not a soul. The thought of being utterly alone was unpleasant enough, but at this point, if the elf died it would be his fault. He'd be a failure as a friend, as a protector, and as a doctor all in one. The vampyre failed to lead him to safety without harm and he failed to protect him from that powerful blow, so what use would he be if he failed again, here? If medicine was his calling, as he firmly believed it to be, what purpose would his life serve if he failed to save his cherished friend? If one cannot save somebody so dear, what future did he really even deserve in this field?
For Vergil, if he were unable to fix his companion here, such a failure would haunt him for a painfully long period of his unnaturally extended life. That is, if he even lived that much longer in the aftermath. Practicing medicine in general would be hard. He'd likely break, and if he broke, establishing and maintaining a brand new life would be…very difficult. And so he steeled himself– he had to succeed.
Once the room had cleared, he very gently laid the broken elf down on the table before him. Delirious from pain, even warped through Vergil's maintained Pheromancy, Hector turned his head to face his mentor and gave him the softest of smiles. A genuine one, reaching up to his eyes despite everything. Though he lacked the energy to speak, he wanted his companion to know he had complete faith in him.
The damage was extensive– both limbs on his right side were shattered, some of the ribs were cracked, and the bruising and other soft tissue injuries extended all over the affected areas. Should he, for any reason, have to stop midway through, it would benefit Hector more to have his hip and leg fixed before his arm. The arm itself was secured to his torso to prevent movement and thus as much discomfort as possible. His lower half had no such mercy. Therefore, it was there he would start.
Looking through the supplies he and Hector brought with him as well as what tools the airship possessed, he managed to locate a pair of shears. With those, Vergil cut free the injured leg from the confines of the elf's pants and, frankly, what lay underneath was…extremely unfortunate to look at. While the reinforced flesh Hector had crafted with his Vicissitude prevented any skin from tearing, the leg itself had clearly broken in numerous places, the foot was shattered and he was surprised the ankle even functioned at all. The way it sat at his hip socket looked warped, too. On top of the very obvious skeletal injuries, his pale skin was marred with shades of purples, blues, reds, and in some places, it was dark enough to look black. The whole thing was a misshapen mess from bones poking against the skin and the body's swelling in response to an injury. The fact that the young vampyre was even able to lift it up the ladder at all was actually somewhat disturbing given this. Were he not a Necromancer, and honestly without the use of Vitalis, his leg would likely be unsalvageable.
It would also just be, in general, a lot of work to fix. He could see a lazier doctor just chopping the thing off and saying, 'you want another leg? Have one reconstructed,' which…was not something he was going to force his beloved companion to endure. Living without a limb, even if it were temporarily, can be extremely traumatizing. Arguably, so would conscious surgery but, ah, neither choice is a good one, here…and Hector's lived through some questionable procedures before, just never lost full limbs.
Once he heard the engine of the ship kick back in and they started to properly move, he began. One could choose a variety of points to start with here, given everything that's broken. Vergil chose to start with the hip in this case, since it served as the leg's anchor. Using his carving hook, he created a large Y-shaped incision with the center of the three cuts about two inches below the hip socket and the longest extending down to just above the knee. When using magic, a surgeon can freely use much larger incisions because patient aesthetics aren't a concern; there won't be any scarring regardless.
The first cut resulted in a shiver running through Hector's body and a flinch of his features. Golden eyes flitted to his patient's face, a flicker of sorrow reflected within, and then immediately went back to his work. While he maintained the cast of Pheromancy to alter the other's reception of pain, that didn't mean the sensation was at all numb. He could still feel everything with every bit of intensity one would normally feel pain, the difference was that it wouldn't register as…well, pain. Something more like pressure, something almost pleasant, but even so, more intense stimulation wouldn't exactly be comfortable and could easily still overwhelm those with sensory sensitivities.
Alone, Vergil could freely use Vitalis to suit his needs. As the carving hook drew across skin, the mage made immediate use of Crystallize to prevent any of the lacerated flesh from bleeding. Given he would ultimately be working on bone, his cuts went deep, piercing through skin as well as muscle. It was very clear that his patient did not enjoy such a thing, his one good hand gripping the table as a pitiful sound whine escaped his lips. Once the full incision was done, he used a pair of embalmer's tongs to push back what flesh lay in the way.
Internally, it was exactly as much of a disaster as the external damage had warned him of. What wasn't broken was cracked, splinters of bone had pierced into muscle, and the connective tissue of the joint was just barely holding on. Blood from the internal damage was pooling into the cavity he created, and using a combination of Crystallize and Vicissitude, he both regenerated torn flesh and sealed what wounds had to remain for the sake of his vision. Before stopping the bleeding entirely, he used Thaumaturgy to manipulate the spilt blood and draw it back into the elf's circulatory system. There was no reason to waste it, really.
Now that the site was clear, he could freely work on the damaged bones and connective tissues. Ever so gingerly, he moved the tongs and replaced them to give him the most vision of the area around the hip socket. Much as he wanted to be quick as to not prolong the other's suffering, this wasn't really the place to be reckless. With a gentle touch, he rest the tips of a few fingers against the femoral head. In doing so, he used a combination of his own Vitality and Hector's to cast Vicissitude again, binding the bones back together again. Next, he adjusted the placement of the femoral head as it was not properly socketed anymore. Poor Hector did not like this– even with Pheromancy, the gesture pulled a strained cry from the elf's lungs.
Once placed, he resumed flesh crafting to repair the ligaments and membranes in the area. Some of the tissue had been completely severed from the femoral trochanter entirely, while some was just barely hanging on. Vergil was very careful to make sure everything reattached properly; the last thing he wanted was to have to go back in and fix something later because it ripped, broke, or otherwise hurt with movement.
It took some time, but finally, the upper part of the femur and the hip were repaired to the surgeon's standards. Withdrawing the embalmer's tongs, he moved them down the leg to get better sight of the rest of the bone. Strong as it was, the femur was not without wear in this scenario. Though his hands were fairly large, he handled them with an impressive level of dexterity and precision when it came to picking shards of bone free from swollen flesh. Using a combination of manual manipulation and magic, he put each piece carefully back where it belonged and then sealed the tissue in the area together with Vicissitude. He was exactly in the process– again, it was not the fastest, but Hector’s thigh and hip were now good as new.
____
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
Aidolon Speech
'Thoughts'
"Common Tongue/Speech"
"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"
"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"
Aidolon Speech
