Another update gap. I fail. So hard. Eeeeee.
The Bosmer wearily opened up her eyes. Where was she? What had happened? She couldn't remember her own name. Her vision was blurry, but she could just make out a figure in front of her... with strangely frizzy hair.
"Good morning, sunshine." The figure said, with an air of grumpiness. "You've been out for a couple of days. The potion was a little too strong, I'll admit, but you must have a pretty weak constitution... but never mind that. How do you feel?"
The elf struggled to sit up, but her limbs were too weak to support her. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her vision slowly cleared to reveal a woman in plain clothing in front of her, and a stone room. A gross stench wafted into her nostrils, and then the pain hit her.
If the Bosmer could scream, she would. It felt like a thousand needles and knives pricked and stabbed into her very soul, wringing pain throughout her. All the poor girl could do was lay there and take the pain, her only way of letting it out by having tears stream down her face. The woman in front of her frowned, and picked up what faintly looked like a bottle of mead.
"Drink. It'll numb the pain, and get you your voice back."
The bottle was offered to the Bosmer, and after a large struggle, she gripped the bottle and drank thirstily, the bittersweet liquid burning in her throat and slowly numbing her senses. When she finished the first bottle the woman offered her another, and the girl gulped it down like she hadn't drank in days. The elf felt dizzy now, but the pain had subsided, and strength returned to her limbs.
"What... happened?" She croaked out. The woman seemed a little relieved at the Bosmer's slight recovery, and relaxed. The Bosmer didn't notice how tense the woman was before she managed to speak.
"A match in the Arena, remember? You won. Amazing match, too, nobody thought you could win." The congratulatory words sounded as bitter as the mead.
She could barely remember... being hit with a war hammer, flying across the arena, managing to plant an arrow in the Orc's throat... then limping back to the Basin of Renewal and collapsing before she could heal herself.
"You were banged up pretty bad. A few broken bones, and a few cuts, but nothing extremely serious. No amputations needed. Which is why you felt a lot of pain. It's going to take a while for you to heal up properly, but the priests at the Temple should work wonders on you. I'm not a great healer, you see, and... well, they can do a better job." The woman explained, as the Bosmer groaned.
"Nnyeah?" Was all the elf could reply, looking dazed and confused. The woman smirked.
"It numbs the pain, but it also messes up your thinking. Be prepared for a hangover, Bosmer." Then she looked up abruptly, as someone called out for the local healer to get her ass over somewhere. The woman scowled at that. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go. The Temple healers should be here to help you out soon, though." And with that, the woman was away again. The elf felt her vision double without anything to focus out, and blacked out again, to awaken within the Temple of the One.
"Yes, Owyn?" The healer asked, frowning as she walked into the small room the Blademaster and Battle Matron shared. The Redguard she was walking towards returned her frown with a scowl.
"How's the Bosmer doing?"
"Badly. I could numb everything and heal a few cuts and minor breaks, but I'm not skilled enough to handle the more complicated wounds. She'll have to go with the Temple healers for now."
Owyn's scowl deepened. "So how long do you think she'll be out?"
"A few months. Maybe a year. It depends." She shrugged.
"Great. Just perfect." The Blademaster grumbled. "We're short enough on able combatants as it is. The Yellow Team's completely outnumbering the Blue Team. And we can't run on troll versus ogre matches forever, you know."
The healer sighed in frustration. "As I've said before, it's not my fault they get nearly beaten to death and left out of action for months. What do you expect me to do about it?"
Owyn's scowl was replaced by a mischievous grin. The healer felt her stomach squirm in dread. That was Owyn's 'I've got an idea that might cause you to die of embarrassment or from being bludgeoned with blunt instruments' look.
"I know exactly what you can do about it. We don't have any more matches for the next few days, holiday, you know, so you're going on a trip." Owyn said with a smug smile.
"I'm guessing this isn't a nice long holiday to the warm beaches of Anvil, is it?" She said uneasily.
Owyn shook his head. "Nope. You're going to Leyawiin. Blackwood Company's set up there. Perfect spot to recruit some fighters."
"What?" She said in disbelief, frizzy hair standing up on end even more than usual. "They're... they're brutes! They have no morals! They... they..."
"Are just what we need." The Blademaster replied with a smile. "Now you'd better pack up. Oh, and we aren't supplying you with a horse. Too expensive. You're going to have to find one on your own."
The healer made a strangled little noise like she was trying to object, but shut her mouth when she saw Owyn raise an eyebrow. "Fine. But don't... don't blame me if you're missing a healer when this is all done!" And with that, she turned and stormed out of the room as dramatically and angrily as she possibly could, to the snickers of Ysabel and Owyn. All the heads in the Training Room turned when they saw the normally reclusive healer storming out of the building with nothing but her bag shoved with a few potions and ingredients. Then they all shrugged and returned to shooting arrows into targets, slashing at dummies, and hitting punching bags until the filling started to leak. The normal sounds of the Arena that made sleep virtually impossible, and frizzy hair a common occurrence.