Luis had done a good job fixing Kang up on the fly, when he'd been rushed to the medbay by Ben. But that was the thing: the cast and bindings were temporary. And, he was fine with that. He knew that others on the ship had gotten more badly injured than himself, and that the doctors needed to work on them first.

He waited a day or so before stopping by the medbay again, figuring that the worst cases were dealt with by then; if not, he'd just come back later. The makeshift cast and bindings would be fine for another day or so, and he could deal with the pain. He'd dealt with worse before.

She hadn't been putting this off: she had just needed a lot of sleep, and her thoughts even then were driving her crazy. So much had happened on their shore leave, thing she hadn't been expecting. She needed a place to gather her feelings, somewhere to pull back. For that she had decided Haku's river near Escherville. It was a strange place to go, especially with all that had happened there, but to her irritation she couldn't even remember the end fight. For now, she just wanted a place to rest, and this was the most tranquil place she could be save for Irma's room or the Jedi temple. For now, this place would do nicely.

( Internal contemplation )

If Nehaalista had been able to scream in pain, she would've. In fact, she would've sobbed and keened. Instead, she'd only been able to suck in curiously neutral-sounding breaths and cry silently as they reset the bones in her leg, and kept her from bleeding all over everywhere.

Now, Nehaalista's leg was bound up much the same way a farm animal's would be. Oh, she'd helped seal the bone with a spell, but like the Exarch always said: magic could only do so much, and it was better to let the body heal naturally. So, with her one crutch, Nehaalista hobbled around the ship, looking for something to keep her from itching her still healing bones.

That was, she decided, the worst part about the healing process. The internal itch of healing bones, unable to be scratched. Nehaalista puffed her cheeks up and stopped to rest at the Hub. As soon as she could, she'd just... find a way to go.

For the past few days, Cargn had made himself more scarce around the crew than he usually did.

Not that many would notice. He rarely spent much time among the crew, instead usually spending his time busying himself with things only a few might understand the significance of.

Yet now, just as quietly as he had slipped away, he had returned. For the moment, he was training in the sensoriums with his Nemesis Halberd, his robe pulled down to his waist to allow for better freedom of movement.

It was easy to see the countless scars he had earned over the centuries, though there were two wounds in particular that looked fresh from the previous battle. One was in his stomach, which appeared to be healing well, despite the fact that he had been impaled.

The other, however, was more glaring. His right arm was gone, replaced with a technologically crude yet masterfully crafted cybernetic prosthetic. The polished surface was intricately etched with devotional prayers and holy symbols inlaid with gold. In time, the luster would fade as the arm would be worn down with age and use, but for now, it was a rather odd sight.

Silently, he stood in the sensoriums, striking at holographic targets while wielding his massive halberd in only his new, metallic hand. It was obvious he had been at it for a good while, as blood began to seep out of where the arm connected to his shoulder. Every so often, he would stop, allowing the Larraman's Cells in his blood to rapidly build up scar tissue in a matter of minutes before starting again, each time slowly building up the connection between flesh and steel.

There was a dark look on his face as he trained. It was obvious he was deep in thought, yet as usual, it was impossible to gauge what he was really thinking.