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 Posted: Fri Nov 09, 2012 3:31 am
 Great, now his shoulder was sore again. But then, he'd already prepared for that before coming. He saw the next sequence of events coming before they happened. He let himself get pulled, but he blocked the punch, not caring if there was a rule about avoiding punishment.
"Shut. Up. For five minutes." He grabbed one of the vials he'd brought and pulled the top off. He poured a puddle into his hand, letting any excess fall onto Marltok's exposed skin, revealing the liquid to be oil. He set the vial back on the counter and saw that Marltok had started bringing his brace back to his leg. With his dry hand, he pushed one half of the brace to the floor. Hopefully Marltok would get the hint. Taking some of the excess that had fallen onto his dry hand, he wet his palms and started rubbing Marltok's calf expertly. With a furrowed brow, he noted that the entire calf was riddled with knots. He cocked his head away from Marltok's leg to give his hands a one up on feeling.
The first pass was a diagnosis of the leg and its condition. Which, he had to say, sucked at the moment. He went from calf to hip, almost to the top of the bone on both sides of Marltok's body. Something that may have surprised the goblin was that there were no outwardly signs of enjoyment. Even the touch of Quilzar's hands were professional rather than sensual. More than a couple of times, he nodded to himself and spoke lightly in Drowish. After the initial pass, Quilzar stood and held his hand out.
"I can help, but I will insist that you lay down in some space larger than this Bathing Room." He said this more with an authoritative tone than an asking one. It was as if he were giving Marltok one option, and one option alone.
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Posted: Fri Nov 09, 2012 4:45 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd That was Quilzar's one chance at getting away with annoying Marltok. If Marltok had been in any position better than injured and undefended on the bathroom floor he would have been able to knock the cursed elf back across the room. Marltok missed the fact he was proving his own objections wrong. If he'd been able to throw the man off him, surely Quilzar would not have still been there. Either way, Marltok was not comfortable with Quilzar pawing over his leg but the only thing he could do to stop it was remove the dirk from the brace and strike at the man. It felt like a low blow to hurt a slave when he was trying to take care of him but he couldn't let the man run circles around him like he was.
'Fix your own damned wounds first. I can finish this myself,' Marltok ordered, then struck the top of the dirk down on Quilzar's injured wrist. The dirk was a weapon of brute force rather than speed or slicing ability (it was made out of hardwood after all) so when Marltok struck he put enough strength behind it for Quilzar to know he'd been hit. If the man got close again he'd strike the wrist again. He wouldn't go near the man's shoulder. That was too far.
Marltok grabbed his brace and pushed himself to his feet - foot. Alas, he didn't trust his leg enough to be moving anywhere so he just held the dirk in front of him, ready to strike anything that came at him. Quilzar had gone too far. If the man came near him again he'd hit something. He'd given an order and the slave was being disobedient. He'd helped but now it was time to go. Marltok wasn't some pup who hadn't even made his first kill! He didn't need to be pandered over. Damned elves. They could never follow instructions and they were always panicking over the smallest of wounds.
'Get out, Quilzar Torviir! I do not want your help and do not need it,' Marltok growled. The slave's tone did nothing to help the situation. He'd pushed as far as Marltok would allow. He knew well enough how to care for himself. These injuries were nothing compared to what he'd dealt with on the battlefield - and in worse conditions too! To have a bathroom and quarters the size of a house were luxuries. 'I am in as good a condition as I am every other day. That you've seen it makes no difference to anything.'
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Posted: Fri Nov 09, 2012 2:10 pm
While Quilzar saw the dirk headed for him, he didn't move in time, earning him a hard rap on the knuckles. He hissed then growled in frustration. Looking towards the door he shook his head. He came to the realisation that Marltok had never had a slave, so was unaware of the fact that a Master's well-being was also the responsibility of the slave. As for taking care of his own wounds, well, that was a done deal. Glancing at his knuckles revealed they'd turned red. Only understandable. He wanted to demonstrate that one of the bottles held a potion that would help heal the more recent wounds. Quil wasn't too awfully sure about the arcane ones, but that was a moot point.
"My wounds are fine. I've done all that I can to help them at the moment," he said as he took the vial he'd opened and put the top back on it. "Even the head wound you gave me has nearly healed. I'm not mere rothé you know." Parting his hair, he revealed the piece of scalp where he'd been hit during the match. All that could be seen of the small wound was a shining pink line. Once done with that, he grabbed only one other bottle and left the other on the counter. He glanced at Marltok's leg and shook his head, muttering to himself in Drowish. He furrowed his brow and started walking towards the door, not ready to be out in the lit hallway so soon.
"Have some of the contents in that," he paused in his walking long enough to motion his head at the emerald coloured bottle on the counter. He started walking again. "It's one of the stronger potions I make. At the worst, it'll close both of your recent wounds enough to take the stitches out. At best, it'll look like it's only a couple days from being completely healed. But ******** it, do what you want. Don't let me do my job," he said as he threw one hand up in the air in an exasperated manner. Not caring about what Marltok would do, he started muttering audibly in Drowish.
"Nau, xuat ori'gato ussta xun ussta emp'poss. F'sarn er'griff l'rothe bauth ghil. F'sarn fridj natha nek nindel kyone er'griff bauth vith lu'shu. Nau alur taga natha dosib rivvil, nindel zhah vel'bol Usstan tlun," he ranted in his guttural yet graceful tongue far past the door. Even into the hallways he ranted, though in the hall it was more about the light than anything else. It would be more than obvious that his favourite obscenity of the moment was 'dosib ssussun'. His ranting calmed, but his fury didn't abate. True enough, about halfway down the hallway to his room, his eyes glowed red.
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Posted: Sat Nov 10, 2012 12:11 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd As soon as the drow had left, Marltok got what he needed to wash himself off. He didn't like all the oil on his leg so he gave it a damned good scrub before strapping it back up. He glanced over to the bottle he'd been given but didn't use it. He had his own ways of taking care of himself so as soon as he went through how he was taught to administer self-surgery. His thigh was hardly something he'd complain about, not that he ever complained about wounds. It was only a flesh wound. He had medicines he could use but he'd rather keep them for larger injuries than stitches. As it was Marltok would still work through his daily routine the same as every other day. The only difference was the sparring had been cut short.
No matter. The goblin just stripped off and scrubbed his bloody clothes in the sink and took his recently dried pants from yesterday off the towel rack. They still needed darning but that didn't take very long. What did take a while was the third seizure of the day, which happened when he was half way up the stairs to the kitchens to get some of that plastic wrapping humans covered food with and a bottle of something spiced with enough kick in it to stun a goat. The seizure was one of the ones that happened for no reason so he just found himself an uninhabited and unfurnished quarters to wait it out. As soon as it was over he marched back to his quarters and stuffed a few belongings into a nondescript black sports bag before hanging up his newly washed clothes in the towel rack. Soon the bathroom was scrubbed clean enough to show no sign of what had happened. He may have been a goblin but Nesslock and the Security Network had beaten the need for cleanliness into him. Leaving traces of injuries behind was always a bad idea, which was why he'd demanded his leg brace be able to hide easily beneath his pants. The brace still showed but one would have to look very carefully to know what exactly lay under those loose-legged pants.
As the goblin made to leave his eyes fell upon the drow's gift. Marltok took the bottle in hand and held it at an arm's length. He didn't trust the drow well enough to use the thing. He didn't trust elves in general, even if Quilzar wasn't a true elf. He might have been fascinated by them but his learnings had only taught him they were a tricksy bunch. They acted all nice and noble but the only moral difference between them and normal folk was they didn't like being the ones with mud on their clothes. It was true that Marltok didn't know this elf but he had had little reason to take Quilzar at his word. He hadn't lasted this long as a ARCS leader by believing everything he was told. He didn't know what the bottle held, its potency or whether it emitted any dangerous vapours, nor did he have the equipment to test for poisons. He limped over to turn on the exhaust fan then placed the vial in the sink. When he opened it and stepped back it showed no sign of being hazardous so Marltok approached it and gave it a whiff. He couldn't pick up anything suspect from it so he dabbed a bit and rubbed it between the tip of his thumb and small finger. Still nothing. As the goblin went through each checkpoint he began to believe Quilzar had meant no harm. The thought of it being a slow acting poison crossed his mind and he assessed it long enough to decide to accept the gift. A few minutes later the goblin was inspecting the healing process of both blade wounds he'd received, the other being the stab wound to his right leg from yesterday. Marltok was mildly surprised the potion had worked.
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Posted: Tue Nov 20, 2012 2:06 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd 's**t!'
Whatever the the poison was on that knife, it was sure affecting the drow. Marltok actually felt sorry for the man, even if he knew he was going to go through the same thing. The goblin's nostrils were already permanently flared as it was. Every time he stepped he exhaled. Clear, sharp, together. He had to get them to Marltok's quarters before the poison took full effect. He kept going through his mantra in his head as he pushed forward. There was nothing he could do for either of them until he got to that pistol. If that meant he had to get under Quilzar's left shoulder and wrap his arm around the drow's back to help him back to the room, so be it. He'd even bundle the man in his arms if that's what was needed. Marltok had a job to do and nothing would stop him from doing it.
's**t!' Marltok hissed again. A low growl emanated from his throat and he'd changed legs again. The poison had crossed his pelvis and was now in line with the scar where the drawven spell had struck. He stopped a moment, dropped his bag and started to march off again. A slate was useless to a dead man. As he continued pushing forward he could feel it seething ever lower. The goblin gritted his teeth and growled louder as he felt his leg starting to twitch. There wasn't a single thing he could do to help hit. He had no control over the leg's movement and very soon the poison had engulfed the entire leg. He could no longer carry Quilzar, they'd have to rely on one another if they were going to make it any further. Marltok groaned at the thought. He doubted the slave would be at all cooperative.
He heard the man whimper and gave a sharp exhale as response. Normally Marltok would have checked the man's to gauge his condition at this point but his body was reacting to the pains in his chest. They'd only made it half way and already it felt like someone had cut him up to his heart. It was unlike anything Marltok had ever experienced. Even with clear, sharp, together beating through the pain he was struggling to keep hold of himself. Dealing with Quilzar alone was a pain; dealing with the poison, the drow and the leg was nothing less than insanity. The goblin was sweating profusely and had his left hand on the wall to keep him from -
Falling. His leg kicked out against the wall he was using for support. Marltok crashed to the ground, almost bringing the drow with him. There was no way he'd be able to keep the drow at bay now. If the man attacked Marltok would still be able to defend but he wasn't able to stop the man from escaping. There was nothing for it. He backed himself against the wall, using it as leverage to push himself onto his one good leg. At the moment good was a relative term. Not a single part of Marltok felt good. The only thing that kept the soldier going was his mantra. Clear, sharp, together.
EDIT: The last paragraph has been changed slightly for continuity. Quilzar didn't fall with Marltok.
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Posted: Tue Nov 20, 2012 3:25 am
During the seeming frantic trek up to Marltok's room, Quilzar was well on his way to fighting off the poison. By the time they were entering the hall, Quil's head had already begun to clear, though it still pounded with a dull pain. The only sharp pains he felt now were coming from his hand, his clavicle, and his shoulder injuries. The pain from the poison was still spreading, but now it was easier to deal with and it wasn't sharp. Now he could appreciate the turmoil Marltok was going through. With a malicious grin, he noted that this particular poison couldn't be too awfully good for that bad leg of his. Oh, and him fighting off the poison so quickly could give him a false hope. How wonderful.
When Marltok fell, he felt a tug on his shirt. His eyes glowed red as he thought that he'd be damned before he went down with the goblin. Darting out of the way, he heard the tear of fabric and he felt a good bit of pressure on his shoulder girdle as his shirt gave way. With a tsk, he noted that this was one of this favourite shirts. In fact, it probably was his most favourite. He stood in a contrapposto pose with his arms folded as he looked down on Marltok's fallen figure as he struggled to stand. The Drow looked back towards the sports bag and sighed. May as well pick it up for him. He walked over to it and picked it up with his mostly okay hand, sending his shoulder into a bit of pain. Slinging it over his shoulder, he went over to his fallen Master and put his shoulder under Marltok's. Gritting his teeth when he took some of Marltok's weight on his injured shoulder, he put his arm tightly around the goblin's waist to help support him. As he did, he deftly found the pocket that held his dagger and pulled it out so quickly and so softly that most would not be able to notice. Considering the amount of pain Marltok was in, Quilzar found it unlikely that he would be able to tell what had happened.
"Come on, before I decide that it's too much of a pain to help," he said with an annoyed tone that was most definitely aimed at himself rather than the goblin. Why in the Hells he would cause himself pain to help a man that obviously didn't like him was beyond him. He walked Marltok to his rooms, even opening the door for him. Walking him to the couch, he set them both down on it. He rested himself for a few seconds before getting up and setting the sports bag on the ground. Then he walked over to close the open door before sitting down on the chair. Breathing heavily for a few moments, he closed his eyes and focused on trying to get rid of the rest of the poison's effects. He did not want to deal with a pounding, dull pain for the next day and a half or so. Oh well, nothing doing. He may as well leave. If there was something he did not want to deal with at the present, it was Marltok and the undoubted temper he'd have after the sharp pain faded in a half hour.
Without another word, he stood and left Marltok to deal with the poison himself. It really was too bad that Quil hadn't found a good antidote for this particular poison. His birthmark warmed slightly, giving Quilzar cause to smile softly.
Faldunan tlu ulu l'Orbb Valsharess" he said lightly as he closed the door. It seemed as if he was in luck; Lolth was no longer ignoring him, if that was even to be considered an advantage. He made his way to his room, comforted by the fact that his Goddess would at least be willing to help him out in his time of need. Favours be damned tonight. It would be worth it if he could get healed enough to use his upper body once again. He was in such a jovial mood that he even threw his reacquired dagger up in the air before catching it in his fingertips and stowing it away in his back sheathe. On second thought, he wasn't sure the pain caused by throwing the dagger was worth the action. His shoulder protested loudly at both the throw and the catching. He thought about the chain of events at the lake. It was rather convenient that his dagger happened to be poisoned this time around. He really ought to keep better track, but it was more fun that way. How he loved games of chance.
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Posted: Wed Nov 21, 2012 10:19 am
Marltok Hefeielldaen Nibulkin Bekkenüdd If one were to tell Marltok Quilzar would help him to his quarters, the goblin would not have believed them for even a second. As he pushed himself up the wall, Marltok's first thought was Quilzar was going to knock him back down. He was almost at the point he could stand on one foot when Quilzar put his shoulder under the goblin's. Marltok grunted but let the man help him. There wasn't anything else he could do and if the poison was deadly he wouldn't have made it to his quarters before they both died. His only relief was that Quilzar seemed to be coping with it and didn't seem too stressed about it. There was always the possibility the drow was immune to it but there was no point worrying over it. The objective was the most important thing to focus on at the moment. Marltok had to get to that gun so he could heal them both. If that meant he needed Quilzar's help he'd appreciate it.
Marltok nodded when Quilzar spoke. It wasn't worth the effort to talk when he was also dealing with every pain receptor in his body screaming at him. Obviously Quilzar was made of tougher stuff than his scrawny build would claim. The man was a confusing creature but Marltok couldn't help but respect him. He'd one-upped the goblin and now he was helping him, even when the man could be administering some sort of cure on himself. It frustrated Marltok to realise he respected the man.
As the pair made their way to the goblin's quarters, Marltok made sure to rely on Quilzar as little as possible. He had a wall he could use and the drow had more injuries to deal with than Marltok did. If it wasn't for that damned leg he'd be able to get himself back! By the time Qiulzar had him on the couch he felt rather pathetic about the whole deal. He sat only a moment before pushing himself out of the chair and marching himself over to the staircase. The goblin hadn't asked for rails but some human rule about human building regulations meant he had two of them to help himself up with. When one leg kicked the other from under him he was able to hold himself up. The soldier wasn't one to say die.
Given the amount of time it would take for the goblin to get back down the stairs with poison flowing through his veins, Marltok decided to administer his healing medicine while leaning up against the wall. He lifted his shirt and placed the pistol against the skin over his heart, figuring the poison would do the most damage there. He grunted as he fired it. Some b*****d must have found it highly amusing to make a healing device in the shape of a human gun. Sure, Marltok had heard the explanation of how it was the fastest way to get the energy into the body and how it was a tricky disguise but so was a lockable cigarillo tin. No matter, there was nothing Marltok could do about that. Now that his chest was starting to clear he had to get to the drow. Even though his leg was still convulsing as though controlled by some other being, Marltok's objectives weren't complete until the drow was safe. How the goblin now regretted making the steps different lengths and heights.
'Quilzar! Are you still alive?' Marltok called as he got down the bottom of the stairs.
The man was gone. It didn't surprise Marltok but it did frustrate him. Grunting, the goblin sat himself down with his back against the wall and held his leg in place. He had his foot hooked under the bottom step and his good leg crossed over the top. It might have looked like an awkward position but the step did a very good job of keeping the leg on place. The pistol obviously didn't work on it; he would have been surprised if it had. At least the pain had subsided. Even the pain in Marltok's bad leg seemed a little better. Due to the fact only a few minutes ago every pain receptor in his body had been reacting to the poison, "better" could have been a comparative observation. Either way, Marltok wasn't able to use the pistol on his leg whenever it seized. The pistol only had five shots and Marltok didn't have a second magazine for it. Including Quilzar's shot that only left three for six months - in a castle full of magical beings and a drow who poisoned his weapons. Marltok's own sense of morality didn't agree with forbidding the man to use his skills either. Quilzar had earned his poisoncraft just as Marltok had learned his weaponry. As Marltok got to his feet he debated in his head whether it was worth bringing his arcane weaponry out of retirement.
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