Arafel - recovery in the Mistvale Inn

[Zoberraz]

Arafel stirred.

Dimly, she knew it hadn't been the first time she had waxed between consciousness and unconsciousness. She had vague recollection of softspoken elvish words meant in reassurance while something cool and moist sponged at her forehead.

Sleep was mostly an unknown to her; the Rian elf druidess usually found repose in meditative trance. That she was at all comatose was a sure sign that her body had not coped well with whatever she had been put through.

What had it been again? She had accompagnied a group into the dark caverns were the bugbear dwelled. That had presented plenty of hardships, but the dwarven ruins beyond had pushed the term hardship to the point where it became an understatement. After facing orc necromancers and the dwarven undead as well as facing up with another voracious shadow hungry for a new mortal vessel, her group had finally escape only to find that in their exhausted state, the way out had become even more arduous than the way in.

There were bugbears. She had darted forward - despite her exhaustion, she could defend against the overgrown goblinoids better than most. Then there was a flash of lightning that had sent her reeling, furiously trying to make sense of what was going on past the stars she was seeing... a vague recollection of worrying about a magically confused comrade... and then hurt. Hurt. Hurt until darkness had swallowed her.

She felt stronger now, though. With a sigh, she truly regained consciousness, moving one hand to rub the grogginess out of her eyes. Her body was tender, but crusty scabbing was all that seemed left of the wounds she had suffered. She was clean, and dressed in a simple woolen tunic. Her movements were enough to alert the one person whom was standing vigil over her in the dim-light inn room.

[Ve'keer]

Azraelis would put the term 'Vigil' to shame in her sleep, exhausted to the point where meditation was not an option, the elf slept beside Azarafel. Eventually after perhaps a nudge or two, she'd awaken, yawning like a cat and stretching out, she'd smile to Arafel and ask her how she felt. Before she could respond the elf would already be checking over the wounds again, making sure everything is good and healed.

Quickly padding silently down to the kitchen she'd order some soup and hurry it back up to Arafel, offering it to her. Yet again she'd tend to the wounds, casting what little healing she new where puss was oozing or where scabs were not sufficient. She'd stay with Arafel untill the other elf was ready to leave the Misty once more.