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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 21, 2010 5:23:45 GMT -5
"Ruined your robes again," Astin muttered. "Fourth time."
Tears spilled down Dastan's cheeks in a torrent; Only Astin had the ability to make him cry this much. He always did it, every time, whether he was crying in happiness or in sadness or anger or whatever other emotions normal people felt but Dastan hardly ever felt, unless it was in connection to the battered blonde before him. He didn't give a fuck about his robes, dammit. He just wanted Astin to be okay.
"Nononono," he kept on muttering over again as Astin's eyes drifted closed; terrified, he grabbed up his wand. He still sucked at healing magic; it was something that frustrated him to no end because all other magic seemed to come easy to him. But he could cast a sewing spell at least. He'd never done it on a human before, but it would at least do something to staunch the bleeding.
Tearing Astin's robes away from the wounds, he pointed the wand at the first and most gruesome of them and muttered the healing spell. It couldn't possibly feel nice, but he hoped that Astin was beyond pain at that point. The spell did its job, sewing the skin back shut and sealing the blood inside. Quickly moving on to the next, he did the same thing, muttering a silent apology every time the needled dipped into Astin's paler-than-usual skin.
Even then, he knew it wasn't going to be much in the healing department. He needed to get Astin to a Healer, a real one. But how, when he was trapped in this godforsaken hell-hole beneath the school?
He was about to try and lift the other boy and find a way out when a sudden rumbling filled the labyrinth again. What now...?
He got his answer a second later when, faster than he could follow, something shot out of a doorway and pummeled into him, sending his body bouncing painfully across the floor and into a wall. He grunted and looked up to see what had hit him...
And came face-to-face with a minotaur, steam puffing out of the beast's nose with every breath it took. Dastan's heart clenched painfully in his chest. That...was not good.
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Post by Astin Descartes on Jul 21, 2010 5:47:05 GMT -5
Astin had been nigh unconscious when the whole labyrinth began to rumble. He managed to redirect his eyes as Dastan went flying, and they widened. No, Dastan had to get out of this just fine.
Ignoring all common sense, logic, and physical protests insisting he do otherwise, Astin got to his hands and knees. He grappled for his wand; the moment it was in his hand, he had it pointed at the great beast.
"Diffindo, you bastard," he whispered. The last vestiges of his energy drained, Astin collapsed helplessly, mind going blank once more.
Meanwhile, the minotaur did not seem so impressed. Although Astin's weakened spell had done little more to it than a paper-cut would have, it seemed to have pissed the thing off. Apparently casting harmful spells at things did make them angry.
It marched toward Astin, steam pumping out of its nostrils like they were smokestacks, and picked up the limp form by his robes. Astin was flung carelessly into a wall, making a sickening thud and falling to the ground. Then the minotaur's attention was all on Dastan. It stomped toward him, all its rage and power focused on the comparatively tiny boy before him.
With a seemingly effortless wave of its enormous arm, its palm collided with Dastan, throwing him onto the ground. It was not going to make this fight easy for Dastan.
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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 21, 2010 6:37:32 GMT -5
((OOC: Longest. Post. Ever. ._. ))
"Diffindo, you bastard."
Dastan wanted to be proud of his friend for standing up after that, but as usual, he couldn't quite stifle the bit of him that was screaming out what a complete and utter idiot Astin was for standing up after that. He had opened his mouth to tell Astin to lay down and stop pissing off the creature, when the thing swiped at Astin and the other boy went flying. As if he wasn't hurt enough already.
Dastan gasped and tried to think of something, anything, to get the thing's attention. His wand was laying by the thing's feet, closer to Astin. He'd dropped it when he'd been pummeled into the wall. Unfortunately, all he could find was a big stone. Sighing and knowing this wasn't going to be end well but needing to take the thing's attention away from the limp form of Astin, Dastan threw the rock and hit the beast on the back, getting its attention fully focused on him.
And its attention was no good thing to have. It bared down upon him and swiped out a hand, the palm slamming into him and sending him to the ground rather quickly, his injured leg unable to support him much. Before he had a chance to move, the thing was on him, a foot coming down and slamming into his chest, pressing him to the ground. The immense weight cracked two of his ribs and knocked the breath out of him quite effectively, and now he couldn't get a breath back in because the thing was still pressing in on him.
If the minotaur decided to put all of its weight on him, Dastan knew he was finished. His entire ribcage would collapse and he'd be nothing more than a flattened pancake on the stone floor, and Astin would probably bleed to death, and Alamut would continue to decay and...and a lot of bad things would happen.
Reaching out a desperate hand, Dastan tried to grab something, anything. A pile of rubble lay off to his side. Scraping along the stones and trying not to pass out as he was deprived of oxygen, Dastan's groping fingers finally reached the rubble. He reached into it, trying to get a decent-sized rock, but instead, his fingers brushed against something cold and metal. He immediately latched onto it and brought out a rather pretty dagger. He didn't have time to admire the prettiness though. He was quickly losing consciousness, his vision darkening around the corners as blood loss from his still bleeding leg-wound combined with the lack of breathing.
Plunging the dagger into the minotaur's foot and twisting, Dastan knew that he had now evened the playing field a bit. The minotaur shrieked in pain and jerked its foot away, giving Dastan a chance to jump out of the way, which he did, wrapping the hand not holding the dagger around his battered chest and pulling in a gasping breath.
He stumbled a bit some more, and then turned back to the now even more infuriated minotaur. Swallowing his fear, he held the knife aloft in one hand, his body remembering the way he'd learned to wield the dagger while he lived in the streets and then after he'd been taken in by Lord Alex and taught even more tricks.
It will be difficult, he decided, to move the way I need to, but pain is just the body's way of letting out weakness. I have to just move as if I'm not at all wounded, agony be damned. Astin needs me.
The minotaur lunged at him then, holding its large club aloft in one of its beefy arms. "Funny," he muttered, trying to lighten the situation, "I didn't notice that before." Dastan did a backflip out of the way, ignoring the way his thigh and ribcage protested, and then landed back on his feet in a perfect dagger-wielder's pose, only the slightest stumble on the landing. He could do this.
And for a long time, he did do that. He did quite well, for someone in his condition. But it was inevitable, he supposed, that he'd end up losing footing at some point. As he tried to land another flip, his leg refused to cooperate and twisted painfully. He cried out, but tried to use the dagger as a defense against the club that was heading towards him and which he couldn't completely avoid.
He only managed to turn it a bit so that it ended up hitting him on the shoulder, dislocating it and forcing him to drop the dagger and reach over to grab at it as his body hit the ground, his head knocking painfully against the stones and setting of stars in his vision. Oh, Merlin, everything hurt. Sweat dampened his hair and skin and he felt like he was swimming in a fog of agony and hurt and helplessness. How could he hope to defeat this fucking beast? He was without a wand, and now, his dagger lay useless at his side and his head was spinning. He pulled in a painful breath, wishing for a miracle.
Instead, what he got was a motivation. The minotaur had begun slouching off towards Astin, probably thinking that he himself was dead and deciding to make sure the other was as well. And there was no way in hell that he would ever let that bitch touch Astin ever again. Grabbing at the dagger with his uninjured arm, Dastan managed to get onto his knees and crawl over to the minotaur.
As the beast raised his club to pummel Astin into nothingness, Dastan used the last of his strength and lunged, his dagger quickly slamming into the beast's hide, cutting through tissue and muscle to lodge firmly in the beast's heart. It roared, dropped the club, and then collapsed...right on top of Dastan.
Too weak to move the giant off of him, Dastan let out what might possibly be his last breath, and then let go of consciousness, the only part of him not crushed by the beast at the moment being his head and one of his arms. And Merlin, was he tired...
As his eyes drifted closed, it didn't even occur to him that he was unable to breathe. He just gave in and stopped completely.
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Post by Astin Descartes on Jul 22, 2010 0:24:55 GMT -5
Astin woke, the pain of his wounds sharp in his mind. They stung now more than they had when he got them, although he was still having issues feeling his left arm. Meanwhile, his right arm, along with the rest of his body, was aching in ways he hadn't before thought possible. It protested as he dragged it closer and pushed himself up, looking around for Dastan.
Where is he?
Astin spotted the mass of minotaur and distinctly human limbs, and his eyes widened.
"Dastan," he choked out.
He held his wand loosely in the otherwise useless appendage known as his left arm; with his right arm, he dragged himself along the ground, wincing whenever his torso would scrape against it. His legs would hardly cooperate at all; other than act as dead weights, they did little more than propel him forward once or twice when he had the strength to control them.
Almost there...
Astin grunted and collapsed on the ground, his tired and weary limbs too sore to move. He could feel the darkness of sleep calling; the shadows of unconsciousness swelled and infected the inner reaches of his mind. But a spark of light remained, calling out to Dastan's limp form. If it was the last thing he did, he had to reach Das. Even if Astin died right there, he had to save his best friend. He couldn't let Dastan die; he already would hardly forgive himself for letting him get hurt.
Astin gathered up what little strength he had left. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he pushed forward once more. Dastan was getting out of this alive, no matter what. Astin had to know that he was okay, that he was alright. Despite his muscles' frequent and enthusiastic protests, he kept pushing, through the pain and the exhaustion.
Finally, he was by Dastan's side.
"Das," he croaked, "Wake up." He grabbed Dastan's exposed arm. "C'mon, wake up."
Astin examined the giant beast on top of his friend. He doubted he could move it when he was in the best of condition, but with the way he was feeling now? He could hardly lift his own head, let alone a minotaur. He pushed weakly at the thing's arm, but it didn't move. He took a deep breath and pushed harder; every last ounce of energy he had went into this effort to relieve Dastan from the crushing force of the thing. He pushed even harder; he had to do this. He wouldn't live with himself if he didn't.
Somehow, it seemed like he was getting there. It actually moved, relieving some of the pressure on Dastan's chest. Astin grimaced and pushed harder. The minotaur began to roll off, and despite everything in him demanding otherwise, Astin didn't stop. He pushed the minotaur, and with a particularly difficult shove, it finally was off Dastan.
For a moment, Astin could do nothing but stare blankly. His brain went numb. Then all of a sudden, he collapsed again. All his strength and energy was gone now.
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Post by Dastan Cross on Jul 22, 2010 2:43:43 GMT -5
Dastan was relatively certain that he was dead. He certainly felt like it, by the way he was just floating in blackness and he couldn't feel anything. It was actually kind of peaceful, in a way, this dying thing. But something was wrong with this. He shouldn't be dead, right? He'd been fine, he and Astin had just...
"Das. Wake up. C'mon, wake up."
Merlin, Astin! Struggling now against the floating blackness, he tried to fight to some kind of surface, get out of the inky blackness and save Astin. Otherwise, the blonde would die, and that was just unacceptable, not when Dastan had dragged him down there in the first place. And besides, he couldn't be dying either. He still had to save Alamut.
Finding more motivation, he struggled even harder. He would get them out of this, because he'd gotten them into it in the first place. Astin had only said he was bored; not, 'Hey, let's go nearly die today!' and yet, Dastan had still lead him down to this place, and hadn't let him take the turn he wanted, and dammit, he just had to save Astin because otherwise, he'd never forgive himself.
Almost like breaking out from underneath an ocean, Dastan gasped, his whole body jerking as he forced himself to draw in breath. With consciousness came the pain, and Dastan felt his whole world spin as the pain nearly stole his breath once more. Everything hurt, but mostly, his lower body felt the brunt of it, probably from having a massive minotaur crushing him. It certainly hadn't helped matters. He didn't even know what was broken, what was bruised, or what else might be wrong. All he knew was that he didn't care; he just had to help Astin.
Biting back a cry of pain, he rolled over, trying to push himself up with an arm. That was doomed to failure, he realized , as the dislocated shoulder made that impossible. Still, he couldn't save Astin if he couldn't get up. Forcing himself to lean on the other arm instead, he finally managed to get himself into a sitting position and he moved over to Astin. He touched his pale face and shuddered at how cold he felt. That was never a good sign.
"I'm...I'm gonna get us out of this somehow," Dastan said, trying not to cry (or pass out) from all that he was feeling right now. His body was all but broken, his emotions in a turmoil, and the only thing keeping him going was a sense of duty to Astin. He just had to save him. There was no question about it.
Crawling pathetically over to his wand, and feeling relief flow through him the second he touched it again, Dastan took a deep breath and tried to think of a good incantation for what he wanted. He had created that spider spell, right? Maybe he could create a spell that would send an SOS to someone.
Whispering the incantation he hoped would work, he cast the spell and a lovely white dove appeared. Swallowing his exclamation of surprise and delight, he quickly got straight to work. "Get help," he said to the bird, conjuring parchment and Transfiguring a couple of stones into a quill and some ink. With shaking and unsteady hands, he wrote out a quick SOS.
"Help. We're stuck in the labyrinth beneath the school. Both of us are injured. Can't get out." Then, he signed his and Astin's name and tied it to the bird's leg. Instantly, it took off and Dastan dragged himself back over to Astin's still form and curled up next to him. He prayed that the bird found them help soon. He could tell that it was only a matter of time.
And because Astin felt so cold, Dastan wrapped his arms securely around the other boy and continued his fervent praying.
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Post by Headmaster Dumbledore on Jul 22, 2010 3:45:59 GMT -5
Dumbledore would be lying if he said he hadn't been surprised when a white dove had landed on his desk, deposited a strange note and combusted right in front of him. Needless to say, he'd reached over to grab the note and was stunned by what he saw in crooked, unsteady handwriting.
Students? In the catacombs beneath the school? And Prefects no less! Standing abruptly, Dumbledore stole down to the staircases. As Headmaster, he had a considerable amount of power over the school and was able to get it to take him in the right direction without too much of a problem. He also had the distinct luck of knowing where the labyrinth let out, and so he went in the back way.
When he stepped into the Minotaur's Lair, he hadn't known what he had expected. It certainly wasn't what he witnessed. The massive minotaur, a savage beast with a considerable amount of strength and meanness, lay dead in a heap, and not too far, he could see the form of the two boys, Dastan and Astin, the darker of the two holding the lighter one in his arms, either trying to comfort him, or keep him warm. Dumbledore wasn't sure which.
Still, he quickly glided over to them and sat down. "My dear boys, what have you done to yourselves?" he tsked, checking for pulses. They were both alive, at least, that much he could tell, but he could also see that they weren't in the best of shape.
At a glance, Astin Descartes had a shoddy stitching along his chest and shoulder, a stitching that had been done with a spell that was definitely not meant for humans, blood seeming to soak every inch of what was left of his clothing, and Dastan Cross looked like he'd been run over by a couple of trucks and left on the side of the road to rot, if the surprising number of bruises he could see was of any indication.
Needing a more in depth determination of what was wrong with them, he began casting diagnostics spells on them to determine the extent of their injuries.
Astin had lost a lot of blood. Almost too much. He seemed to be suffering from severing curses and magical exhaustion, as well as amassed quite a few bruises and fractures, and the sewing job, while it may have saved his life, was beginning to cause an infection to set in. As for Dastan, his entire lower half from the chest down seemed to be riddled with a ridiculous number of shattered and broken bones. His shoulder was dislocated, the collar bone cracked, pelvis broken, at least two cracked ribs, and his left kneecap was all but shattered, while the right leg seemed to be fractured also. A jagged, but now dry, cut marked his thigh. Both boys also seemed to have a concussion as well, of varying degrees of seriousness.
Sighing, Dumbledore was once again amazed that the two of them had survived the minotaur at all. Without further ado, he moved to make sure that they stayed alive, too, quickly conjuring a pair of stretchers and loading them upon them, and then he he floated them behind him as he lead the way to the hospital wing, hoping that Poppy was ready for the two of them. Putting them back together again was going to be quite a chore.
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