The Barefisted Master (Open)

[Aura]

There is only so long a man travel aimlessly. He is bound to run out of supplies and money, or reach the ends of the Earth and be forced to retread old ground, and what then? Where does the vagabond go when there is nowhere left to? It is then that he finds a new purpose.

Bern, it was about as far from Etrurian eyes as he could manage to get himself. He was several miles in from the border now, but there was still many more to go to reach its heart. Just as his legs were beginning to wear to their end he found himself approaching a town. It was just a short climb up a hillside, sitting on a plateau. He could wait here and rest on the rocky ground, or he could push himself and make the climb to a better tomorrow, today, and so he climbed.

The path was steep, little hope of a cart making it this way, he was practically using his hands to do this. It took him a fair ten minutes to get there, with all the pauses to breath and rest his burning legs he needed. He was panting on hands and knees but he felt mildly accomplished for it. To his relief none of the inhabitants were there to notice his shameful display of his weak constitution. Just past the gate he was introduced to a man. A man that flew past him, nearly knocking him over. A very large man that flew past him, through the air, as he was thrown nearly knocking him over.

"Yeaaaaaa!" He let out in startled surprise. Aura jumped back as he looked to see who had done that. In the doorway of a tavern was an elderly man, easily have the man's size baring the way back in and staring him down. Was he seeing this for real?

The man who was tossed got back to his feet rubbing his now aching head. "I'll get you for this!" He shouted before running back out of the town gate. Just what had happened here?

[Aura]

Aura watched as the elderly old man hunched back over onto his walking staff for support and returned to the bar. Aura had no idea what that man just did, but he knew he wanted to find out. Shouldering his bag he followed the man inside. He found him sitting at a table in the corner of the room. He looked content there but the rest of the bar was still recovering from whatever happened. One of the barmaid's clothes were torn, tables were overturned, and one of the men was holding his bleeding arm.

Aura's mouth went agape at the sight of all this and he rushed over to the bleeding man. "Here! I am a healer!" The man initially looked as though he was going to shout at him or try to turn him away but he nodded and removed his hand revealing just how bad the wounds were. His upper arm had some lighter cuts but it was his biceps that were deeper, quite possibly severing the muscles even. Aura's heart sank in his chest at the sight of this, there was little concern over the matter of blood, but to see a wound he did not know he could heal made him feel unwell.

Regardless, he had to try. Raising his hands he focused his energy on the healing arts. The swirling green energies began to form at the edges of his hands. At the sight of the wound he sent the power into his arms. The surface was easy enough to seal over, but the deeper cut was far harder, he needed to condense the strength and send it deeper. Muscle was not as easy to work with, to say nothing of bone, thankfully that was not a issue here. As he worked he began to visibly tire and sweat.

"Hey, if its too much, you can stop. I've had hard hits like this before and I'm not bleeding." The man seemed reasonable enough at the situation and tried to get Aura to stop before he hurt himself in turn, but Aura had no intentions of stopping.

"I can do this." Was all he said to counter the man. It was a matter of pride and accomplishment for him. He was weak still and needed to overcome these issues. As he pushed his magic further he began to have an image in his mind, like he was reaching into another realm beyond this one. It was foggy and foreign with murky white fog being pulled from for his casting.

As he opened his eyes again he saw the wound was healed but he had expended too much of himself. "See, all bet-" and his eyes closed again. He collapsed on the spot as the man caught him.

"Ah man," what was a guy to do with him? What a troublesome idiot. Holding the healer in his arms he looked around for some assistance. The elderly man who had been watching began to laugh from his corner.

"Boy has heart. Do me a favor and I will take care of him. Just help me get him to my hut."

[Aura]

It ached. Everything in him ached. He felt like there were needles across the entirety of his body and they pricked at his skin without end. His throat grew dry as though it was going to seal itself shut entirely. He tried to cough and to breath but it was rough and hoarse only hurting him further. Was this what fatigue via magic felt like? For that matter where exactly was he? Last he could recall he was in a tavern.

A smell began to waft into his nostrils, he knew this smell, it was food, stew cooked over a wooden fire. The monks and abbots cooked like this numerous times, he too even had to do it. As he stirred further his body rebelled against the rising motion but he powered through the pain in order to gain a better sense of his surroundings. It was a modest thing. A small hut covered with furs and handmade trinkets. But there was nothing gaudy about it. Whoever owned this hut, it was clear they did everything for themselves to get by.

Slowly he slinked himself out of the cot that had been made his bed. First his legs that agonized with the motion but soon returned to their proper state. It was an entirely slow process between soreness and returning feeling to his body but he managed to lift himself from the bed at length. His vision blurred with vertigo and his weary legs buckled but he caught himself and proceeded shortly to inspect the contents of the pot. He regretted it.

Lifting the lid to gaze into the stew he was met with something... yeah, something was the kindest way for him to describe the eldritch horror before him. Whatever this stew was it turned the broth coagulated and... dare he say purple? Even worse were the lumps of an unknown substance he dared not to call meat. Needless to say he quickly dropped the lid back over the strange substance and returned to looking around. If there was an open fire INSIDE the hut the owner clearly could not have gone far, lest he risk a fire ruining everything, and his apparent guest burning to cinders with it.

"Hello?" he called, pointlessly into the air, he had already confirmed the lack of anyone else' presence. Appropriately there was no response and so he dared to venture out of the hut. The door was latched down with twine made from numerous plants, without being taught he doubted his ability to ever figure it out let alone replicate the technique. As he opened it he was met with a cool breeze of air that had a way of blowing back all of his weariness and fatigue and replacing it with a crippling cold. His breath fell off and turned sharp in surprise.

He was atop one of the mountains? How in the blazes did he get here? "Hello!?" he called once more, the windy mountain top nearly drowning the sound of his voice entirely. From the corner of his eye he saw movement. It was an elderly man with a large beard but no hair on his head to speak of. He was enormous in size though.

"I see you're awake now. Good, I was beginning to worry."