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 Posted: Sun Jul 25, 2010 4:36 pm
The man Shinji sat beside was turned aside in the opposite direction, and spat out a mess of what looked like red tinged tobacco chew into a nearby trashcan, tossing the cup in afterward that he had been spitting into.
"Go ahead," he said, leaning back to take his normal sitting position again, the small book sitting on his lap, "Shinji."
Deitric sat the book aside pulled out a small stick of bubblegum, throwing aside the wrapper and tossing the gum into his mouth. "I didn't think they would release you from medical so early. Or did you "sign yourself out"?" he asked complacently. Despite his own injuries, he was comfortable enough, aside from the insistent itching beneath the gauze on his hand that came with the burns he'd suffered.
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Posted: Sun Jul 25, 2010 4:45 pm
Robyn watched Rylen's actions with a bemused look on her face, the corner of her mouth twitching as she fought laughter. She kept quiet after the spoke the first time, then, when he held up the whiteboard, if he was close enough, she'd bop him on the arm or something. If not, she'd just shake her head and give a low chuckle. "Baka...Ry, do you ever pay attention?" Considering she'd been able to communicate with Dan without the whiteboard, she'd have thought that Rylen would have figured it had to do with the glasses.
As it was, she reached up and wiggled the aviator shades momentarily. "I can read what you're sayin' with these things. Pretty cool, actually." The fox girl completely ignored his comment, both spoken and written.
As it was, she flashed a wry grin at him, continuing. "Well, at least one of us had an interestin' fight." The vixen was still kind of pissed that her friend's opponent had forfeited, and she was sure the half-wolf was as well.
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Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2010 2:19 pm
Then, there was a momentary lapse in reason, during which Shinji had the epiphany which lead him to understand exactly who was seated beside him. He hadn't put too much effort into looking, and beyond the fact that there was a man (maybe?), sitting on the bench reading (... something) he hadn't been aware it was anyone he knew. Certainly not his opponent from the previous round, at least.
Regardless, his usual grin crept across his lips and without missing a beat, he responded:
"Deitric, ... something." he mumbled, lost in an attempt to remember the tribesman's last name. He quickly gave up on the endeavor in an attempt to answer the follow-up question, which also brought a smirk to his lips.
"You could say I signed myself out, I suppose. Though, I wasn't really aware there was a system for doing so, I just sorta left..."
Pausing again, curious now as his mind wandered, he hadn't even thought that there would be a way in which he could sign himself out. Disregarding the idea with a nonchalant shrug, he decided that he didn't care. He was out now, with some fancy new clothes and some extra pocket-change.
After the small break following his answer, the monk sought to ask a question of his own:
"So." he began, "You're not too banged up to go ahead and win this thing, right, friend-o? I'd hate for a good guy like you to lose because of a poke and a tap from a bad guy like me."
His grin remained, at the notion that a feeble poke and a somewhat-more-potent tap was all he had managed to land during the fight. With his question asked, he resumed the process of lightning his cigarette, and, before long, he was free to take a long, well-enjoyed drag before exhaling a nebulous puff of smoke off and away from either man.
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Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2010 3:19 pm
When she was wheeled into the infirmary, she was unconscious. the front of her swimsuit was ripped to shreds and deep bloody gashes were across her torso. The mat she was laid on was soaked in blood. Whatever had happened, it had caused her to go into shock. Apparently, she had fallen on her butt and got pounced on attempting a poorly planned kick. It was over, epic fail, done. Now everything depended on the healers.
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Posted: Mon Jul 26, 2010 6:51 pm
Dr. Turk takes a look at the patient that just came in, and sees that she migt be a candidate for surgery, which of course, is his field. "Oh, hey..." Turk says as he comes up to look at the gashes, "Wow those are deep. Let's get her into an open OR down here and make sure she don't have any organ damage. Could we get an IV and maybe a blood type for her?" Turk then leads the stretcher to an open operating room.
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Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 12:41 am
"I think I'll be alright, it's amazing what some of these healers can do with a little magic and ointment, I ought to get myself to the finals if I'm smart," he chuckled, chewing away idly at his gum. Even though he inherently trusted most magic, he had found white magic too useful to ignore, and that most of its practitioners were unlike the usual sorcerers and more malicious magicians that bumbled around Gaia. As far as mages went, the healing sort were the nicer sort, which he supposed went hand in hand with their profession. Not that he didn't have his own means of medicine, but he couldn't quite keep pace with hypermodern medicine or magic.
"You sell yourself short though. It might have been short, but our fight was by no means an easy one," he conceded with a wry grin. Deitric, born and bred into a warrior culture, valued a difficult opponent. The weak provided no glory for the strong, he felt; only with a suitably strong opponent could someone advance themselves and achieve some measure of self-respect as a real fighter.
"So, Shinji; what do you intend to do now that you're done with this tournament?" the tribesman leaned back against the bench, picking up his book again. The words inside were indecipherable; it had been written in an entirely different alphabet, most likely something of Deitric's native tongue. He held it open as if he were going to read, but didn't turn his attention to the bare pages just yet.
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Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 10:45 am
"Ain't that the truth..." Shinji would attest, the notion of healing magic being something he was never particularly in-tune with, apart from that fact that whenever he got himself beaten to a pulp back at the monastery, there was always a kindly elder monk or abbot to attend to him with a wise fortune-cookie phrase and a bit of healing magic. Beyond that, he didn't know or care-to-know much about magic. Something about it irked him. Perhaps it was because he didn't know how it worked, and to him it seemed far to unexplained inexplicable, something that would usually be mistrusted. He had no taste for magic, or magic users.
Then again, the healing was always nice. And, it was true that white mages and healers were, mostly, good people. Shinji had nothing against good people.
The monk listened as the brave spoke, very rarely did he intently pay attention to what others had to say, but this man had earned that measure of trust. Enough so that Shinji could at least hear him out. With a nod he agreed that the fight wasn't easy, concurrent with his own belief that he wasn't quite strong enough for this level of competition. With that idea in mind, an answer to Deitric's question arose almost instantaneously.
"What do I do know?" the monk repeated, getting his thoughts together before answering, "Easy. Train, get stronger, and come back next time to win it all." as he spoke, his usually coy smirk became a genuine smile, the notion of winning was what would be his motivation, now. Get stronger, and win. Simple enough, the monk thought to himself.
"It's the only thing I can do. Fight, that is. I might as well get better at it. Better than I am, at least."
At that, he took another puff and cast his gaze upward toward the clouds. They looked quite nice, today. It was a good day, regardless of the fact that he had lost his fight. The monk seemed over it and well-ready to move on and forget about it. That serene, mellow nature allowed him to handle situations like this well, without skipping a beat. He just moved on; the next stage of his life had already been decided, all he had to do now was pursue it.
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Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 5:52 pm
"UUUuuh..." Thurgood is starting to wake up from the drugs, and finds that he can actually see again, since the methanol has now been processed and is now in his bladder. "Oooh... now I've gotta piss..."
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Posted: Tue Jul 27, 2010 6:19 pm
"As good a plan as any," Deitric offered in agreement. He turned a page in his book, set in a small, cloth marker, and close it. His thoughtful, turquoise gaze looked around curiously; most likely to make sure there weren't any media suits attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation. He found that some people behind the mics and cameras had an annoying habit of following around certain personalities in an attempt to get any information they could to scrap together a story.
"Training is good. This tournament isn't the only one though - there are others," he said, turning to look at the monk. "One of the oldest and largest will start to draw fighters together in four or five months' time, and will begin soon after that. Heaven or Hell; have you heard of it?" he queried, conversational in tone.
Truthfully, he wouldn't be surprised if Shinji hadn't; if he were an immigrant of sorts to the world, as Deitric was, or had lived isolated away from popular culture, then he might not have any notion of what the tournament was. The tribesman felt it better to gauge the monk's knowledge, rather than assume one way or the other.
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Posted: Wed Jul 28, 2010 6:36 pm
Dr. Chris Turk now has his patient under anesthesia, and is now opening the deeper gashes to see if any of the underlying organs were damaged. "Okay, opening first suspect laceration... I see that it has completely penetrated both the skin and layer of fat. Looking further, I see... the inside of the small intestine. Scalpel..." Turk cuts into Adaire's skin to access the tear in the small intestine and close it. Of course, this might be the only organ damage, but Drejak could have sliced Adaire that deeply more than once, but given the pattern of the cuts, it's highly unlikely. The hole in the small intestine though, was rather small, but it was so jagged that it couldn't, and shouldn't, heal completely on its own.
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Posted: Wed Jul 28, 2010 7:07 pm
Bad Dreams. Some kind of euphoric nightmare giving her ten thousand reasons that she was a dummy. Red Fox was slapping her on the head, saying Dummy, over and over again, like a repeating loop. Then the dream faded into darkness. The amount of Anesthesia given to a normal person of her size and weight would have more than double the effect for Adaire. Her body was inherently sensitive to to drugs and toxins. The same reason she could never hold her liquor would be the same reason that her heart would begin to beat rather quickly, pulse spiking. Her blood pressure reading rising to dangerous levels.
((Possible temporary stage 2 reaction?))
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Posted: Wed Jul 28, 2010 7:59 pm
"Doctor, blood pressure is now at 85/20 and dropping. Do you suggest we do something?"
"Not right now. Less pressure means less bleeding, Keep an eye on it though, and maybe someone could get some Ampalex from the pharmacy if her pulse drops too far."
"Ampalex? Really?"
"It's not as potent as other stimulants, and this woman seems to be more responsive to drugs, like alcohol or so I heard."
((anesthesia is generally also a relaxing agent as well as a numbing one, so Adaire's blood pressure would actually be dropping rapidly instead of rising if the effect is compounded on her; perhaps she is dreaming that her heart is beating faster?))
_____________________________
(edit to avoid double-posting)
Meanwhile, Thurgood has been released, after blood tests come up negative for methanol, and all he would be doing there is just recovering. Thurgood picks up his backpack with everything still inside except the pickax, which is separate, as well as the Dragunov and Mossber 12 he took from his parents, and heads for the last place that ever resembled a home to him.
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Posted: Sat Jul 31, 2010 7:23 am
The Darth Vizzle " As good a plan as any," Deitric offered in agreement. He turned a page in his book, set in a small, cloth marker, and close it. His thoughtful, turquoise gaze looked around curiously; most likely to make sure there weren't any media suits attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation. He found that some people behind the mics and cameras had an annoying habit of following around certain personalities in an attempt to get any information they could to scrap together a story. " Training is good. This tournament isn't the only one though - there are others," he said, turning to look at the monk. " One of the oldest and largest will start to draw fighters together in four or five months' time, and will begin soon after that. Heaven or Hell; have you heard of it?" he queried, conversational in tone. Truthfully, he wouldn't be surprised if Shinji hadn't; if he were an immigrant of sorts to the world, as Deitric was, or had lived isolated away from popular culture, then he might not have any notion of what the tournament was. The tribesman felt it better to gauge the monk's knowledge, rather than assume one way or the other. ( Busy work schedule is busy, I'll replace this quote with a response... eventually. Regardless of the implied time-paradox between this conversation and your third round fight. )
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Posted: Sat Jul 31, 2010 7:13 pm
Rylen was indeed close enough for a bop, so a bop he did receive as she playfully chastised his lack of comprehension. Rylen had to admit he did not consider the fact that she could probably understand him anyway, but not because he was not paying attention! Well, then again he had been rather absorbed in ensuring Dan did not make some kind of move, so the conversation between the two of them had gone in one wolfish ear and out the other.
"How the hell was I supposed to know it didn't just translate his funny language? What the hell was he speaking, anyway?" Rylen shot back rhetorically, and only someone who knew him well enough, such as Robyn, would catch the humor in his complaint.
He has access to some very advanced technology. The kid's either extremely rich or very intelligent. Maybe both. Rylen reflected on Robyn's opponent, holding a certain amount of begrudging respect for him. It also made him realize he should probably bring a simple but effective set of ear protection for his fights in these tournaments.
At the mention of his own fight Rylen placed a hand on his hip and rolled his eyes, looking away from Robyn with a disgruntled sigh. Though he would never come out and say it like that, Rylen felt a bit embarrassed of his performance in the first round, and equally frustrated of his lack of a performance in the second due to his opponent's forfeiture. It made the whole experience feel cheap to him, when his friend Robyn had taken out a GTB favorite in the first round, and then suffered through such a challenging fight in the second. He felt she deserved to win, but he could not say the same for himself.
"Yeah," He said to brush it all off, a slight tinge of disappointment in his voice. But his crimson eyes flashed back to Robyn as he gave her a look as serious as death.
"Interesting not just for you and the crowd. Robyn, Selene is responding to it, isn't she?" That much had become evident to the half-wolf by the end of Robyn's last fight, though the crowd would never know the difference. It was true the demon inside of Robyn drew her to fight like this, but Rylen wondered if that really made her any easier to control in the long run.
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Posted: Sat Jul 31, 2010 9:37 pm
It had taken Celas some time to find his way to the infirmary from the stadium seats but he eventually found his way there. A step inside and a glance around showed him where Robyn was resting, in conversation with what was likely a friend. Smiling faintly, he made his way over to join them.
He had to admit that he was enjoying the tournament. It appealed to him on some level, though he could not say why. It also allowed him to escape the gazes that followed him wherever he went, not so much for his feathered white hair or red eyes but because of the long nodachi he was never seen without, hilt bound to black lacquered scabbard with prayer beads. Stranger things had been seen in these halls.
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