deliverance

POSTED: Sat Dec 05, 2015 4:22 am

úlfhéðinn

It wasn't hard to fashion the brand, a simple shape he'd drawn out was pretty easy to replicate with metal. The only problem was getting someone with the stomach to press hot metal into a man's back.

Luckily for Urho, there was a resident doctor with the stomach and a trade to work out.

They'd discussed the terms, with her own brand being made as well, while she agreed to teach him how to care for the wounds in a much more efficient way. He knew burns, but he still wasn't a medic and having this one on hard certainly gave him a bit more comfort. Still, he was in charge of stoking the fire while Bane gathered the materials needed for the healing process, agreeing to meet Urho by her house near the clinic, where she graciously offered her own fire pit for use.

He knew it was going to hurt, but he was prepared for the pain.

The iron was red hot, emanating the smell of heated metal that the Finn was so familiar with. Any time now, the medic would walk in and there would be no turning back from branding himself with the mark of the Thistle Kingdom — but he felt ready. Ready to dedicate himself to the new family he'd found.

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Salsola
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POSTED: Sat Dec 05, 2015 10:42 am

nothing satisfies me but your soul

The waif busied herself with a few jars within her home, unscrewing the top of one and wincing at the scent within - thick, and somehow sheepish. It would help the brand heal, she had used it many times on the Mountain of her birth. Burns were frequent for those who were devoted to the gods of the Khalif. The other jar she carried contained a dark amber liquid for the pain - a stiff drink lended courage more often than not, and Bellatrix made a fair brew. Clean bandages were tucked away, and she mumbled a quiet confirmation to herself.

The witch stepped out with her dark grey bag banging lightly against one hip and approached Urho. Bane had never thought she'd meet anyone bigger than her Uncle, Death. He was massive, a big pudgy in truth, but Urho had a gravitas to his visage that made her decidedly simple minded Uncle seem small. "Take a drink of this, and I'll do yours first." Her own brand was smaller than his, meant to be pressed in the highest bit of her left shoulder she could get. The waif had thought to get something more elaborate but she did not want to put herself out of commission for very long. "You can come to me, or get your sponsor to help you — but with where you want it — it will be hard for you to tend the burn yourself." She offered the jar to him, studying him with a faint smile on her dark face.

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hilli
Luperci Curander, Boticario Mate to Basilaris tak

the night is dark
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POSTED: Sat Dec 05, 2015 11:00 am

úlfhéðinn

As much as he appreciated the offer from her, Urho turned down the liquid with a polite shake of his head. "No thank you. This needs to be done sober on my end. You're welcome to it for your turn, however." Maybe after the whole thing was done, they could have a drink in celebration for a job well done, but not before. At least, not for him.

"Put it right on the spine," he told her, motioning to the spot with his hand but not quite flexible enough to really be accurate. "Between the shoulders. That way I can't be tempted to scratch at it." Mostly a joke, but still true for healing wounds, as he well knew. Taking away his ability to scratch did some to help to temptation, but not always.

"Have you branded anything before? Horses? Cows?" If she didn't know how long to hold it, he'd have to make sure she knew before they dove in. It was probably best that he went first since he was more likely to push through the pain while branding her than vice versa.

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POSTED: Tue Dec 15, 2015 7:17 am

nothing satisfies me but your soul

The witch gave him a slight smile of approval as he denied the drink. Pain was purifying. They were made to suffer the Gods cruelties because it was refining. Men were shaped by their worst moments, and how they handled the suffering. It was easy to be good when things were going well,. it was harder to be a good man when all the world seemed to want to wound and hurt. She had seen supposedly great men turn to monsters when the pain of the world was upon them. "Good man. This will hurt like hölle, but pain is good, nein?"

Fire was as good as God on the Mountain.

The waif had learned to heal, harm, and create with it. "Ja. Where I was born...brands were a common sign of devotion to our Gods." She had never born such a mark because she lived more in fear than love of Tak. "As a healer it was my job to do so, since I could tend the aftermath." She had branded many of her Uncles and Aunts, some had stood proud and tall, others shrieking like banshees. It was a good way to get a measure of them. She motioned to a study post that had been set into the earth near the firepit with one dark hand. It was where she would tether Dama when she wanted the stallion to remain near the cabin. "You put your big hands on that and you push and clutch and scream if you must. But do not move or you'll have a big, burning wound on that back that looks only like suffering. Go on now, the brand is ready." She gave him an encouraging look, but there was a strangeness in her eyes. Fire was power, and the waif rather enjoyed wielding it.

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hilli
Luperci Curander, Boticario Mate to Basilaris tak

the night is dark
and full of terrors

POSTED: Mon Jan 04, 2016 7:04 pm

úlfhéðinn

At least she knew what she was wielding, telling him about her duties from... wherever she came from. He let out a sigh, gripping and readying himself for the pain to come. "At least I don't have to worry about your end," he joked. "Go ahead. I'm ready." He had no gods to fear and therefore no apprehension about what they were doing. Pain was familiar, at least.

The pause in between felt almost as painful as the heat of the brand in his back as she pressed it in. Urho felt his eyes bulge in pain at first until he closed them and let out a pained yell, squeezing with his arms and hands while he did his best to stay as still as possible. He was used to pain, but he'd never really forced it like they did here, getting the full brunt of the suffering without any of the struggle to push it away.

She pulled away eventually and his yells turned into heaving breaths. He could feel the residual heat itching at his back, but luckily the place he picked wasn't very accessible to him, leaving Bane as the sole person able to relieve that itch without causing more damage. "You're next," he chuckled, trying to remove his focus from his pain to hers.

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