mental link: you're welcome.

[sistershoggoth]

( Who's the medic around here, I think I for serious picked up some fuckin' alien STD from getting dunked into that thing's throat. Like, this ugly fucker in my chest has been sealed for years but it's dripping green. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck. )

Comments

[hymnals]

[ Adra's healing is both hot bath and cleansing flame; it comforts as it purifies, it cradles as it cures. His magic seeks out what's wrong in the body and turns it right, whether that's torn flesh or diseased organs. But in the absence of anything to correct, the magic is simply a neutral balm. He channels the Light for a few minutes--in other words, until he feels the pull of exhaustion on his mind and body. He cannot cast indefinitely, not without cost. Sweat prickles his throat, dots his forehead. ]

You aren't sick.

[sistershoggoth]

Then what the fuck is this shit.

[ She motions down at her shirt, stained lime green. ]

[hymnals]

[ He is, in fact, something like a doctor, and he has a fairly deep knowledge of most humanoid anatomies, of various ailments magical and otherwise. But he has to admit ... this is something he hasn't seen. Slimes are common enough in Azeroth, but they don't usually grow out of a living person. ]

Beats the hell out of me. But if you're not in pain, and you're not running a fever, then something else is happening to you.