[h3]Jordan Forthey[/h3]

	The small true deigan in the white garb of Reina quickly brushed past him, quietly mouthing 'thank you' before vanishing into the comparatively dim interior of the building, leaving her companion hanging a couple meters back, directly in front of human Fadewatcher guarding the door. 
	If the deigan woman, slight as she had been next to the human, had been about exactly the average height for their race, then the deigan man had evidently taken after whichever parent of his was ascended, as he stood nearly a head taller, albeit frailer. He was still almost half a head shorter than Jordan in turn, though, and though the human squire tended towards wiriness rather than sheer bulk, his armored frame was nevertheless significantly broader than that of the other. 
	The mostly-ascended deigan however lacked the healer's garb, and left a bit more haggard impression - as well as being armed. If his slight frame wouldn't have been able to take on much punishment otherwise, the hilt of the sword he was carrying rather heavily implied he didn't rely on strength, speed and endurance alone to fight. What he had was a rune sword - he was a magical fighter, then, and if the dark circles under his eyes were any indication, perhaps made more use of magic than was strictly taken healthy for him. And if Sir Yanin were to be cited, the mage you should worried about the most was often the one who looked the worst off - mages could be a bit counter-intuitive like that. Showed that they didn't mind damaging their body on their path to greatness, or had been too desperate to care many a time. 
	The deigan was staring at him a touch too intently for comfort, still gripping his sword as if ready to brandish, but not really [i]doing[/i] much beside that. It should have been rather obvious what Jordan himself was doing. He looked like a Fadewatcher sans tabard and some pieces of his full armor, and was stood there blocking the door. He had long since dropped his hand from his sword, but the staring with hand-on-hilt of the other was getting a bit uncomfortable ... in a weird way, though, it was not dissimilar to how his master could sometimes stare someone down (or ignore them) without any real meaning to it. 
	One could assume the deigan was as much a guard to his female companion as a significant other. Should he reassure him that the inside was safe, or? After a time that felt too long for casual scrutiny, he shifted his focus to staring over Jordan's shoulder, mien thoughtful. 
	(Where had he been?)
	Right, so Bren was indeed quite accomplished, both magically and alchemically - assuming he sourced his own medicine- 
 	He didn't assign much meaning to the subtle smile on the male deigan's face - there was no obvious reason to smile, but perhaps he just remembered something, in thought as he appeared to be -, but his next actions were definitely a touch startling. 
	Without a word, an unspoken request, or indeed even the just stopping next to him and staring at him until he realized he was in the way like Sir Yanin sometimes did, the deigan decided to abruptly barrel [i]through[/i] him, seemingly unaware that he was trying to just show an object notably heavier than himself aside. 
	"Hey!" Jordan yelped, voice a couple tones higher than his regular speaking tone, more out of surprise than actual loss of balance taking a step back into the building as he swung an arm out to further halt the oblivious intruder. He didn't try to reach for a weapon, just stayed physically blocking the other's advance, momentarily speechless past the first exclamation. 
	The man pushing against the metal on his arm said something in a language Jordan didn't know, evidently at the deigan woman, before just as abruptly breaking off his attempted intrusion, spinning on his heel, and beginning to stride off just like nothing had happened. [i]You know, if you wanted to tell something to your companion, you could have just [b]asked[/b] to be let in [/i]- not wanting to turn the spontaneous hospital room into the village gathering spot notwithstanding - [i]or just said it over the door like normal people.[/i]
	For about two more seconds, Jordan stood in the doorframe, blinking and mouth slightly agape, before addressing those in the room. 
	"What is [i]his[/i] problem?" Still baffled, he looked from Sir Yanin, to the deigan woman, to the deigan man's rapidly distancing back around the edge of the door. "Should I go after him, or? I [i]think[/i] he's headed for Bor Manor based on the direction he's going..." 

[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]

	The money was still there (and he left it in place), so whoever had piled the corpses up had not searched them through - but barring stripping them entirely revealing something more, it didn't appear they carried any clues to who they were and where they had set up camp. 
	As he re-emerged from basement, the healer in green tunic requested the boiled water and a number of containers to be brought closer, so he complied, setting the items next to her before motioning the slightly older Fadewatcher with the injured arm over to a table away from the others. He seemed to be the more collected one of the two who still stood, and currently unemployed by either healer. The healer in white seemed to be busy inspecting the Fadewatcher with a head injury. 
	"I'm Sir Yanin Glade, lieutenant at Brow's Nest, Etlon," he finally took to introducing himself if the local Fadewatcher complied and followed him as indicated. "Seems that trouble doesn't rest, even if we were meant to, and it really did a number on you. Does anyone here have an idea who these people were, what they wanted, where they are and how many of them are left?" 
	The local Fadewatcher presumably had a bit of time to reply before another deigan attempted forceful empty, said something in a rather distinct language that was none of the surrounding lands, then hightailed out just as quickly, leaving Yanin half-prepared to stand and brandish his sword, body turned and hand on hilt. There were probably a couple seconds for either the deigan woman or the local Fadewatcher to react before he made a call regarding Jordan's question.

[h3]Madara[/h3]

	The guardhouse had filled with a different kind of energy, one which was more busyness than despair. The other healer took over with the one with the head injury, leaving one less thing that might be hard to accomplish with the physical and chemical alone. 
	When the knight reappeared, she pointedly requested for a separate pot, a jug and five cups, briefly simply holding a hand over the bandage on the guard's shoulder as she swiftly and precisely counted drops from her chemical and alchemical assortment into the containers, finally adding some herbs to the cups and decanting a measure of boiled - and still steaming - water into each. Her fingers felt cool against his skin. 
	It caught Madara's attention that the other healer used magic to boil water, and informed her that she could have more healing potions in mere hour, if need be. Rather accomplished beyond relying on her deity to aid, then. She might have carried a rather wide assortment of medicine, but most of them were sourced from a select few trusted vendors, rather than concocted by herself. The herbs and single- or few-ingredient straightforward mixes were quite easy to replicate, but the more complex compounds where exact precision was paramount were best left to people who had dedicated their lives solely to that branch of sciences.

	She wet the bit of bandage gluing itself to the site of the injury, the infused water feeling hot as it penetrated the fabric, but not scalding. Hot, but also rapidly numbing, until only a distant, dull reminder of pain remained, and the adjacent muscles seemed to lax, regardless of will. Oddly enough, even before the numbness set in, the water didn't sting, unlike even regular plain old boiled water normally would. 
	"Hold the light still, could you? If you're not used to, though, you might want to focus on gaze on something else," he noted to the uninjured Fadewatcher before directly the addressing the one she was tending to, who presumably had a much easier time focusing now that the pain had become a vague impression of itself. "I'll be cleaning and putting your shoulder back in order now - it might be a bit uncomfortable, but not painful." [i]Weird[/i] was perhaps the more accurate term, feeling pressure, but not the bite. 
	Blood started seeping a little as she washed out the injury of any debris, but not nearly in the quantities it had before, even as she proceeded to bring out an implement to hook the severed tendon together, hold it in place and apply pressure with one hand as her other carefully added a kind of silvery, very thin threat to a curved, perfectly honed dark and shining gray needle and began to secure the two detached ends of a tendon together. Live tendons were more flexible, even harder to pierce than sinew; you needed a very sharp, rigid tool and a lot of patience. Tendons were difficult to cut, but if once already sliced in two, they could fray from ends if you were careless, which was not ideal if you planned to use the same one for, oh, the next sixty years or so.
	For a minute or two, there was focused silence, until she broke off this bit of thread and removed the implement she had been using to hold the tendon in place. Madara wiped off her hands and cleaned them with spirits once more before carefully lifting the man's arm to flex it. There; now it should stay as one and be able to glide freely. Repairing a small nick in one of the minor medium-sized blood-vessels in the region (another snip of the thread thread with something vaguely resembling a small seam cutter), a bit of damage in the adjacent muscles (snip, another wash) and skin was comparatively quicker and shorter work. 
	Just a bit of salve and a smaller strip of bandage to keep dust away and her job here was mostly done. Additional magical healing would speed things up, but past that it was mostly taking off remaining armor, washing off blood and grime, and finding clean clothes. The thread she used was not a concern; the body knew how to dissolve it in a month or two. 
	The deigan woman handed her a small vial she held up to the light, observing its colour and consistency, before uncorking it to pick up its scent. [i]Goldberry. [/i]She was reasonably certain she knew exactly what type of healing potion it was. Shouldn't interact adversely with anything she had, or intended to use. She added a small amount of it to a cup near her - about a sixth of the vial -, and then handed it to the man, wrapping the fingers of his good hand around it and making sure he could hold it before letting go. 
	"Here, this will help with healing and the blood loss," she noted. The tea - if it could be called so - was strongly herbal, slightly sweet, and would actually have tasted quite pleasant, if it were not for the distinct note of saltiness underlining it all. "The faintness in your arm will wear off in an hour or so - but be careful about stressing your shoulder for a couple weeks, especially the first few days. There are yet those here in more dire need, but if you need something, let us know." 

	The one with head injury received a steaming cup with a slightly different mix of herbs in passing as Madara mover her things along to the next one in need - the one with missing fingers and broken jaw-, briefly noting to Irah that she was done with the one with the shoulder injury. 
	As she was moving to take a closer look at him than before, however, there was a commotion at the door, with a second deigan crashing into their door-guard, shouting something across the room, and just as quickly scurrying off, leaving the guard rather confused. 
	"Huh," was Madara's only utterance.