The rest of the convoy reached the Kazar outskirts mid-afternoon. It had been, Viv thought, a harrowing ten minutes of battle followed by a more harrowing three hours of extremely intensive triage. Neriad nurses had fortunately come with the support wagons to heal and stabilize the wounded. It had been an interesting moment for the medic.

Viv was no doctor. She also had no particular interest in the welfare of her fellow men and women. It just so happened that she was rather academically smart and, at the time, there had been a dearth of medics in her branch of the armed forces. She still felt a rush when managing to save lives, and today had been no exception. The existence of healers and magic added a new dimension to the art of keeping someone alive.

The medical profession back on earth had developed a slurry of instruments to keep death at bay: hemostatics, transfusions, antibiotics to name a few. There had even been talks of using biomaterials, but that was still under development. By comparison, Nyil only had a handful of tools, but by the local gods did they work like a charm. Just the basic life spell, when performed by hundreds of people, could knit wounds closed in a matter of hours.

Of course, some people might still die in the meantime.

And so Viv had labored to introduce the proper tourniquet, which beat ‘applying pressure on the wound’ by a lot when arteries had been nicked. The nurses appreciated the gesture and, in return, taught her on the spot how to use magic and observations to heal gut wounds. They also knew how to set bones with the best of them. Viv could not deny that they were impressively effective. She still thought that it was bullshit that they could not regrow stuff.

It turned out that limbs could be reattached if stuck back within a short time frame. Even that was a hit or miss with nerves not always reconnecting properly. Lost stuff could not be regrown, that was just how it was. The more advanced healing spells would quickly form a healthy stump and stop. Conversely, they could close, like, fifteen stab wounds at once.

Another thing that shocked Viv. She saw some guys asking for booze holding wounds that had her go “how the fuck are you still alive, not to mention conscious?” It all depended on their “endurance” stat, which was just a representation of how magic-soaked their bodies were when it came to resilience.

All in all, it had been a learning experience. She had apparently garnered a lot of respect and sympathy from the rank-and-file by working tirelessly, and giving out all of her health potions. They were worth their weight in silver, and the temple could not afford to replace them, but Viv would not let people die if she had the means to save them around her belt. Not for some hypothetical future occasion. It would have been an absolute dick move. She did not do those without a good reason.

And so she had become instantly popular. Viv wondered exactly how much was due to her prowess in battle, how much for her healing, and how much for reintroducing the Harrakan word for ‘twit’.

Both Farren and Varska had begged off her company for the night’s celebration as they had a lot to do on their own. They all asked her to be there and represent them, and so Viv was forced to pass by home quickly to get changed. She also used this opportunity to check her progress.

Willpower +1