>>6118135What feels like hours later but is more apt to be a lot less time than you realize, some semblance of slow order begins to reassert itself. The triage of the critical ones have been completed competently. The skulkers have been pulled back together. The medium term ones - and theres a lot of them - have been given stimulants, shimmergrass, bandages, anti-sceptics, wrackweal, water and checked over for embedded shards, small fragments, cuts, bruises, burns, scrapes and other ouchies.
Doctor Lesin cracks a smile once - just once - when four people working together finally manage to hold an Ironwrought down long enough to peel the heavy vanguard armor off and get to the cut across his stomach that has parted the armor like paper across his body and smeared him with an enormous amount of blood. It turns out for all the grissly horror, the cut is so clean it bleed profusely but it's all surface level damage. If the armor had been a little less thick. If he'd been standing half bit to the right. If someone had jostled him. If if if. For all the monstrosity of the last few hours, this carnage filled road is haunted by the spectre of curiously good fortune. No wounds show sign of infection. No shards are deep in flesh. Arrow heads pop out with ease. Cuts are clean. Wound-string doesn't snap when the needle goes in. Water boils cleanly and well. The wind is low, so the sand is not hurdled across the entire formation. Lucky, if you believe in such a thing. Wicklighter dances across the wounded, applying little patches of the proper powders where appropriate. Edward offers a few sailors cures and when the rum runs out sets to setting bone and dislocated parts with ease. It's a puzzle in reverse. Phridon and Decimus offer a few words of guidance to alleviate the worst wounds: the ones in the soul. A lot of these troopers were horrified, assaulted by a thing they have no explanation for. There are explanations for phenomena like this. Residual memory resonance given form in the Strainwrack by the last desire of a dying Windsworn, cleaved to a purpose of intentful murder and stalking to--
so a demon??
well no, the technical term is animant, the animating force of a living mind embedded in a structure of material which resonates and--
a GHOST!!
no ghosts aren't real, the dead have no capacity to project their thoughts to the world, the technical term is --
bad spooky shit
... you know what, yes. yes. Yeah that'll do.
Crushfist offers a few Rikovian breathing exercises and this thing with a few needles and some light pressure on the muscles. Every single doctor present tells him to cut that shit out. When two patients sit up and mutter that it hurts a little less now, they let him get back to it, but they keep giving him the side-eye. Look, if it doesn't involve sawbones and screaming, it can hardly be rated "medicine", alright?
>Company formations reforming>Casualties reduced by 40% ( !! ) 