Book 3 Chapter 11: Magic, I Assume
Dantes gritted his teeth as his fingers curled and tightened involuntarily from the growing pain. He stumbled off the bar stool and fell backwards onto a table. Looking at his hands he could see no actual damage, but the sensation made it feel as if his skin was sloughing off. The rest of the bar wasn’t faring much better. Jayk was vomiting as he clutched his nose, Zilly was clutching her eyes as she writhed on the bar, and Dantes saw a patron ripping at his own ears with clawed hands.
Dantes tried to focus his mind outside the sensation, he somehow pushed it down long enough to bring himself back to his feet. He stumbled to the front door, stepping over the bouncer clutching his genitals, and pushed his way outside with his shoulder, unable to bring himself to push his way out with his hands.
He’d initially thought it had been some kind of attack on the Viridian Vixen itself, but the view from the street immediately dissuaded him of that notion. He saw a guard yelling for help as he slammed his head into a nearby wall, a woman running full speed down the street screaming, and even a young orc boy doing his damnedest to yank out one of his tusks.
Then, just as suddenly as the burning sensation in his fingers had started, it began to fade. He stared at his fingers, his hands shaking from the memory of the pain, and slowly forced them to open and close until they relaxed enough to be usable again. He walked over to the young orc boy, whose eyes widened as he saw him.
Dantes grabbed him by the chin and checked on his tusk. He focused until he could see that level of life that was smaller than the eye could perceive, and willed some energy into him to heal it a bit.
“Can you make it home?”
“Y...yeah.”
“What’re you waiting for then?” Dantes stood and walked over to the guard. There was a lot of blood on his face, but he recognized him as someone his men bribed regularly. He hauled the man to his feet.
“Go into the club. We’ll clean this and bandage you up.”