There’s a video game where one of the healer characters weaponizes their healing powers to give the enemy super cancer, which could work really well for this prompt.

Yep. The actual blood/water saying is "the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

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This is so good!

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Aside from mass casualty, they probably would make a great covert assassin.

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CHAPTER 1

My name is Darius , and this is my story.

Growing up , I always felt different. People would pass my parents waiting in line to pay for our groceries, we would always be the last to sit on the cart.

When I began school I was bullied , I told my father and he said "don't talk back to them , just be quiet and get along!". He seemed like such a coward to me.

"Why are we different mother?" I questioned. "Son, where are your cousins? Where are your aunties and uncles? Have you never thought about how we are alone here. Your father brought us here for a better life. Our own land is not a safe place for you , for us. Work hard and become like those people out there. Keep your mouth closed and your eyes open. We are here now , we are safe here."

I remember clearly , it was a sunny day , birds were chirping outside. Father had gone to get some milk. But he took so long. He never took this long. As day turned to night , and night back to day again, my mother and I knew something was wrong.

Knock knock , my mother opened the door. Standing there was a local guard , a letter in his hand and a bag of gold coins. My mother took these items , read the letter and wept.

"Your father is dead" she said, her voice trembling , eyes rubbed red.

My father was dead? MY FATHER WAS DEAD. Sure he was a coward , but he was invincible, he never got ill , he worked like an ox, how could he leave us?

The letter read "We are sad to inform you of a tragic accident that occured today with your husband. The Duke of (insert generic town name) send his apologies. Please accept this money as compensation for your loss. "

CHAPTER 2

I studied hard. I worked the fields. I became strong like my father. I had to , I had to support mother. After father's death she stayed at home, only moving every so often between her bedroom and the bench outside our home.

"Mother! I got accepted into the school of Magicka! The fees is .. we will pay it off haha, I'll work hard , like you said!"

"Hmm" she said , eyes fixated on the clouds

I had to leave her alone for a couple weeks at a time. The school was far from our home. She managed though , I made sure there were groceries at home , I gave her a clostog , a device that she could talk to me with. Although we never spoke much. She was safe and i was busy making my ...our future better.

CHAPTER 3

I had almost completed my course. I would get a diploma in healing (the cheapest and easiest class to get into). Our university had thrown a party , I was ready for a good time.

The party was great , I had made some friends in my class , they weren't bad to me. I think my generation were much for accepting of people like me , people who looked different to them. I wish my parents could see this.

The music turned down , and there were murmurs in the crowd. "The Duke is here , it's the Duke , I heard he's going to give a speech or something , I hope he gives us some free stuff haha"

"Hello next generation of wizards and warlocks! I hope I don't need to introduce myself! It's wonderful to see so many young , bright faces here today. Please watch this Fvideo on some opportunities you all have to work for the kingdom if you so choose!"

Oh.. another boring Fvideo , how do those things even work? Rays of light shone out of a spherical device ,illuminating the huge wall behind the Duke. This must have been a projection Fvideo , expensive.

I watched it , a drink in my hand, bored out of my mind. I didn't want to work for the kingdom. I would get a private job working in a group for bounties , they always needed a quiet no frills healer. A segment came on of the Duke standing on a parade float as it moved through a busy crowd. People were cheering. Some were not so happy , but they couldn't do much with the guards there.

I saw my father. MY FATHER WAS THERE , IN THE CLIP! The crowd moved a little into the way of the parade and then the clip just changed. They changed the video. Something happened . WHAT HAPPENED !

"HEY WHAT HAPPENED THERE, IN THE CROWD?" I shouted across the hall

"Shut up! What are you doing" my friends said

" Some people love me , but some don't young man. We took care of it haha" the Duke smugly said.

They took care of it? THEY TOOK CARE OF IT? I was frozen , so many emotions ran through me in a flash. Rage , anxiety , confusion.

That's how he must have died. The crowd pushed forward and he got caught in it. One of the guards must have used excessive force. Why else would they give us gold? To pay for our silence?

Dread. Death. I couldn't breath. I wanted to vomit. No thought crossed my mind other than kill. Pent up rage was ablaze in the depths of my soul.

Crunch. Gurgle.

With hazed eyes I looked across the hall. Where had everyone gone? I no longer felt any anger , but contentment.

The stink. Dead rotting bodies. Is this a dream?

I did this. I MUST HAD DONE THIS? WHO ELSE , IM ONLY ONE HERE!

oh no, OH NO. I should have stayed quiet. I should have kept my mouth closed and my eyes open. I don't know what's happening. I don't know what to do. Mom help. Father. Anyone. Why is it so quiet?

……..........….....end..............

phalanges*, my friend. Our fingers are not Dr. Phil

Before me stood a foe, arrogant and proud. Our warrior, felled by a superior blade; our barbarian lay dying at the blunt of an enemy club. The only one with wits enough to stand by my side was a rogue, unmatched in cunning and stealth, but outmatched in a frontal confrontation like the one we now deigned to face.

They deigned to face.

No warrior would face an enemy of this number alone, yet there was no life for us if we turned our backs here. All that was left to us was a life after perseveration, or death in cowardice. Neither I, not my rogue, we’re cowards, but no normal party would ever leave such an encounter alive, let alone one lacking in combat abilities such as ourselves.

Rogues weren’t respected, for their masteries lied in a silver tongue that gleamed with golden blade. They were masters of subterfuge, commanding encounters through preparation and foresight. They did night fight an honorable battle to your face, they would destroy your ambitions behind your back. Rogues we’re feared.

Healers, we’re not. Healers were respected for their abilities, but they were not feared. We were considered a necessary burden, tasked with the menial job of ensuring the rest of the party had the stamina to use their abilities and skills to their fullest, providing confidence that strengthens every allied blow, and a comfort that protected all from death.

No one appreciated that softened, though. No one considered the difficulty of triaging a friend in battle, through death, sometimes for many, and often all at once. People thought is weak for covering weaknesses, and though we packed the strength necessary to fell does.

But our oath to do no harm was not a suggestion, or a bythought. To do no harm eas to deny ourselves the animus of battle, and shed the desire for glory. As long as we were allied, we would use our power to protect, and we would sacrifice the glories of esteem at the altar of life, to stave death.

However, I no longer was bound by those chains. Neither of us had the strength to face this many enemies, even weak as they were, alone. At least, none beside did.

I stepped forward to the laugh of a raucous crowed of chattering rabble. They cacophony inflated by the felling of haughty heroes soon fell silent as a wave of magic slithered along, slicing the Achilles of all caught unawares.

As outcast groups, the rogues and the healers often worked together out of necessity. We provided cunning supplies for cunning folk, and my rogue now sat with only enough attention to avoid an unbecoming surprise.

It was the only permission I needed.

With a wave of my hand, blades of light covered the cervical vertebrae of all who now knelt. Their heads heads now offered me in obeisance, in their blood an atonement for their sins. I blackened my oath with efficiency. To use my powers to harm was looked down upon. I knew the destruction. I had been the destruction. I had been a feared, crazed, battle mage of an era I wished to forget, and I wrote the oath of the Guild of Uriel so that none would again taste the frenzy of battle as I had.

But the hubris of my party had gotten them killed. The difficult task of giving one’s life and energy for others is a skill underestimated no more, and the sanguine wetness I tasted on my lips pursed my lip into a smile that was no longer appropriate to hide.

There was no time for confusion. A second wave tore through the enemy at the thigh, severing the femoral arteries of many who were standing. Those left tripped backwards in fear, or stumbled forward in stupidity, their comrades left to die dishonorable deaths within the minute.

It was how the Black Mage Barbatos started all battles. The first ranks would kneel, the second would wail. It was always melancholy to hear men crying for mothers, but they had brought this upon themselves. The symphony of their screams fed my frenzy.

The final ranks would revere.

Men with no respect for magic were simply not, in my presence, and those who dared to rush forwards in defiance now begged for mercy, their bodies wracked with an unholy pain that I always taught my students before continuing on to the ways of anatomy. There would be no more black mages, and this poison of the soul ensured it.

As I looked that enemy champion in the eye, those yet living were released into the hands of my faithful and present companion, death. Their punishment was to be forgotten in the wake of my terrible name. My rogue collected as many materials off the wasted corpses, to be used by the guild in service of life that was once wasted.

Fear filled his heart. Fear always filled their hearts. Healers weren’t respected because the world forgets. There were always who forget, and those who remain ignorant to remember.

But I had been party to enough failed expeditions. Our township alone had lost too many proud warriors, and my Lord was growing both frustrated and fearful. Neighboring townships were suffering the same woes, and attacks by bandits had increased as towns lost their protectors.

I gave my seal to my rogue, and he began his journey back. Within a few days, expeditions would cease, and all Guilds of Uriel would be posted by the gates of every inhabited castle in my lord’s lands, the people hidden safely within. I would meet with my fellow mages in secluded location passed down to us through the eons, and stories of laughter on the battlefield would, for the time being, begin their hushed rounds through the enemies ranks once again.

First, do no harm. An oath I created to shed the creed of the black mage:

> The enemies kneel in blood.

> They offer their heads in obeisance, their loins are bathed with the their blood, and their lips cry out for mercy.

> Their mothers will forget them.

> Their fathers shall be visited by famine.

> Our lips will drink the wine of victory from their necks.

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Everybody has their own process with grief. A cycle of anger, sadness, bargaining and acceptance is the norm. For me the norm took on it’s own life. As did those for whom I grieved. We were simply travelers. Among us was Klieve, she was good with a bow, Unger, ever the trustworthy pack-mule and ever burdened with his vast assortment of trinkets and then there was Yowl, a well studied man and my closest friend, master in the arcane arts and able drinking buddy. Upon our trek, on high noon of the laticeday, we were waylaid upon the river front of gall. It was our hopes to ford the mighty river, but found ourselves pursued by savage miscreants, bent on scouring our remains for the petty treasures that we held. The river was in full swell and as we made our attempt to ford arrows rained from the sky burgeoning from our packs and littering the waters around us. Klieve did her best to match their volleys and while she was able to fell two so too did she fall. Struck in the belly and the breast. Upon making it into the depths of the water Unger fell below the depths, stumbling upon a void in the water that the rapid waters hid from view. When I lost Yowl, only then did I truly understand how deep the depths of despair could go. “Ulnik, to the other side! Quickly! Swim! I will hold them!” Turning about face to the onslaught of arrows Yowl cast a tremendous arcane circle in the air before him and from it a great dragon reared its ugly face to the horde of bandits standing on the banks. At this point an arrow took its mark upon my friend. I did not see this as I was swimming frantically towards the shore, but I heard the penetrating blow and his death rattling gasp. From the far embankment I watched as that tremendous beast tore and rended the limbs and heads from the bodies of those savages. I gave a manic smile at this, tears streaming across my cheek though I could not feel them as I was already soaked to the bone. So started my grieving. So started the anger. To be cont.

Observer

A flash, a byte-green tunnel, and I was back in the arcade again. My white-knuckled sweaty hands were still gripping the joystick. Dim flickering lights of lonely machines bleeping retro 8-bit game synths. Dead chill, windows fogged up, puddles outside lapping on spilled neon.

“Waka-waka-waka.” Pac-Man ran from his ghosts.

I saw her out of the corner of my eye but pretended not to. She wasn’t playing. Sleek body, nimble fingers, dressed in black leather, vertical chip slot on her forehead. Anachronist. I lit a cigarette. Closed my eyes. The beachfront was seared into my mind, waters so blue they were green. Children chasing each other, feet caked with dried sand as I talked to her for the first time for a second time. Paradise in the palm of my hand. But I knew how the story ended. Please god, please let-

“Observer effect,” she said.

I exhaled a dark cloud slowly, suddenly bitter. I had thought there was time enough at last. Fuck me right? “The act of observing alters the thing being observed. Catch-22 thought-loop total mindfuck. I get it.”

“No, actually. You don’t.” She smiled disarmingly, but her white teeth were too clean. A rat scuttled across the floor. “Hop on a Traveler’s slipstream, you piggyback them into their past as a projection.”

“Like,” I started, taking a long drag and blowing at her, “second-hand smoking.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s exactly right! Full points!” She mimed a congratulatory clap.

“That’s still bad for you.”

“Exponentially worse for the smoker.”

“How is it different from two-player?”

“Two-player is genuine collaborative Travel. Mutualistic agreement to bring 2 to the time and place immortalized in the mind of 1. Piggybacking distorts the projection of the past. It’s very much like creeping into someone’s bed while they dream, oblivious. That’s the observer effect. By entering your past, I irrevocably change it.”

I closed my eyes again. I had looked up from the children. Skyscrapers rose from the ocean, an entire city breaking the surface, waves lapping at windows. The sky had turned leaf-green. In worry, I glanced at my girl, but her face was already gone. Tanned oval in its place, hilly contours that suggested something human but not quite, all lines erased from the face. I opened my eyes. She was grinning. That bitch!

“Sorry. She was really beautiful. I guess I got a little jealous.”

For a moment, we said nothing.

“You were lucky.”

“Yeah… guess I was.”

“You know why I’m here, don’t you Ken? You know who I am.”

Funny. “You know, you heat are funny,” I said, wagging the cig at her. “Traveling illegal and all but you do it yourselves.” I laughed. “Necessary evil eh?”

She pressed her lips together. “Someone has to impose order on chaos.”

“Fuck you.”

She arched her eyebrows. “I think you misunderstand what we do. We protect this reality from Traveling distortions. Everyone Travels.”

I blinked.

“I’m not here for you honey. Not yet. Just checking in on your first run. Now, if you cause ripples in someone else’s string, they will come after you.” She shrugged. “Different anachronism division.”

She turned to her machine. Pinball. She reached for the joystick, hesitated.

“Find another arcade Ken. Too many people know about this one.”

“And if I don’t?”

She glanced up at me. Not once had her plastered smile faltered. “One of many outcomes.”

“Tell me,” I managed. “Is it real? Is any of it real?”

“Oh sweetie… that’s for you to decide, or for them to when they come for you.”

I found it! It was actually called "The Wrong Way To Use Healing Magic". I believe in 2021 it got approved for an anime, but the manga is pretty hilarious. The main character basically got summoned on accident, and learned he had an affinity for healing magic, to which he begins some rather nightmarish training, because he can just heal his body if it becomes injured. It isn't a super amazing read, but it is rather enjoyable.

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I think they're talking about "the wrong way to use healing magic" , iirc the leader of a military healing squad had it that her squad had to be super fast and strong to rescue people in the front lines, so they do intense physical training and keep healing themselves to train pretty much 24/7, and the main character had something special about his healing magic (iirc it was being able to heal both others and himself, when most other people could just do one or the other)

The M in my MP5 stands for M.D.

Thanks! :D

The truth is a lot less impressive, I used to write Sherlock Holmes fics where Watson's a medical Sherlock!

Thanks! :D

The 2nd intercostal does work if you're willing to use a longer catheter, but to my knowledge, the 5th intercostal is preferred by medics because the catheter is inserted from the side of the chest, which isn't obstructed by body armour. This is moot if you're a cleric wearing nothing but long flowy robes, but I'd like to think that medics in a magical setting are still trained that way because tanks and brawlers would probably wear some sort of armour!

Thank you for the meta submission! It has been scored at 14 points! See you on the next loop.

i cast SEVERE INTERNAL HEMORRHAGING

Thank you for your submission! It has been scored at 14 points!

As a certain Salarian once said: "Lots of ways to help people. Sometimes heal patients; sometimes execute dangerous people. Either way helps."

My immune system has betrayed me too many times already