The 3 R's - Rest, Relaxation, and Repairs

[Chezak D'Maroe]

Another lovely day in Thar Shaddin, Chezak D'Maroe, once of the Eastern Realm of Tian Xia, thought to himself as he trudged through the streets of Marn. The rain pattered on his already wet hair as dusk continued to approach, dripping from brow and tail. He stoically ignored it.

The guards had let him pass with hardly a second glance, muttering something about elves standing beside their brothers, man, entrusted with the keeping of Thar Shaddin. It sounded like something said by rote, only remembered because it was forced upon them. Chez could hardly contain a sneer at that.

He was currently wandering aimlessly through the city of Marn, taking in the sights of what he thought might be his new home. It was far enough out of Tian Xia for him not to run into any of the citizens from there; at least, any that would recognize him, then ignore him anyways. Even after several months on the road, he had no idea what had prompted him to exile himself. Even his uncle hadn't gone so far when he had left for distant lands.

"I am dead to Kyrth D'Maroe. I am dead to Guang Wan. I am dead to Tian Xia."

The words tolled through his head, haunting him as they always did when his mind wandered to the subject. He firmly put the memories away, turning his thoughts again to his surroundings.

His steps dragged as he continued down the street. He hadn't slept since he'd run into the small gang of would-be bandits on the Northern Trade Route three days gone. He hadn't wanted to risk the few remaining members catching him while he slept unawares. Chez smiled grimly to himself. Of the original dozen members of that gang, only four were still alive; one of those would likely never use his right arm again, if he didn't die from the injury.

They had sought to catch him as he was making camp in a clearing just off the Trade Route. Elven ears, however, allowed Chez to hear the rustle of leaves and slight crackle of underbrush and twigs as the men slowly neared. They had him surrounded before he had noticed the unnatural silence of the wilderness around him, and their mostly silent movements. He had to admit, they had been good at what they did.

The fight had been swift, Chez downing both archers with a single bow shot each. The rest had rushed in, at least two dying before they could reach him, two others down and out of the fight in another heartbeat. He had discarded his bow in favor of the falchion at his hip, his fighting now only an attempt to carve his way out of the clearing.

He had held the men at bay after killing the first two to reach him. The remaining four held back, watching him warily as he watched them. His bow was within arms reach, between two of the men, and he knew he would not leave that behind. He feinted the opposite direction, then darted back the other way, diving below one man's sword as it descended inches from his tail of hair. He was back to his feet, the bow in his hand, his other hand already coming up with the falchion to block the second man's attack. A quick parry, and the man howled in agony as Chez's falchion point drove through the man's collarbone, the crack reverberating through the clearing. Without looking back, Chez had darted into the forest, and hadn't stopped until he reached Marn.

Chez blinked the memories away as he realized he was standing to one side of the street, down a perpendicular side street not twenty paces from Main Street. He was staring at a sign, trying to make out the words through bleary eyes. He really did need some rest ... but ...

Sigorax Blacksmith & Infirmary

Chez read it again, then reached down to feel the few arrows he had remaining. He hadn't been able to salvage the half dozen arrows he'd used in the last fight, nor the one's he had had to burn with the two trolls he had encountered the week before the bandits. He didn't trust anyone to make the shafts the way he liked them-that was one skill he had taken to when his father had been trying to teach him-but he knew that he would need someone to make the metal heads.

He decided he'd get the arrowheads started, then find a place to eat and rest for the evening. With a steadying breath, he pushed open the door and walked in.

[Elvren Sigorax]

Screaming filled the air in the infirmary as another stab victim was stretchered in. Elvren sighed, knowing he would definitely sleep this night.

Elvren wandered over to the new admission, and, after signing the paperwork he'd been adamantly defending the importance of for the past six months, knelt beside the man and asked for his name.

"S...Simon... I... can't breathe..." the injured man spluttered. As each breath rattled in his throat, Elvren was certain he was telling the truth. Still, he needed more information. Lifting the blankets provided it adequately.

The man's body was bathed in sweat and blood, and from time to time he convulsed with the pain. Just at the bottom of the ribcage, Elvren saw the problem. A six-inch long gash carved it's way along the side of Simon's right-hand side, and Elvren shuddered as he lent over to see how deep it was.

Very, was the answer. In in, Elvren could make out the red of blood, pink tissue, and the stark white of bone. This man would die without help, very soon.

Mind made up, Elvren threw the blankets aside, as the door opened to the smithy.

"Get that, would you, Igor?" he yelled, above the screaming and the chiselling from next door.

"Yes, sir." his assistant said, and scuttled off to greet the customer. Customers can wait, Elvren thought, just let me fix him first. Aloud, he said,
"Simon, you're going to need magical healing. By law I need you to say yes for me to carry on. You should also know that without this, you'll be dead in ten minutes. Or less."

Simon nodded emphatically, obviously finding it hard to breathe, which gave Elvren the further worry of a punctured lung. Still, consent had been obtained. "Very well. This won't be pleasant."

He placed his hands above the gash in Simon's flesh, and gently pressed down on him. Focusing intently, the screaming and grinding noises faded into the background, ignored. Blackness filled his consciousness as the magic poured through him.

This time, it was golden, as it always was for life-threatening injuries. The light flowed through him, tingling down his arms and into Simon's body. Elvren's mind's eye followed it, heading down his own arms into the gash in Simon's flesh. With effort, Elvren began to repair the damage, pain coursing through him as the magic began to take effect. Damn, he thought, the lung is punctured.

Directing his essence that way, he found the hole in the lung, and strained with the effort of pulling it closed. Hurt flashed into his own lungs, and he struggled for breath, feeling every inch of his patient's condition.

The lung was healed, and Elvren moved on to the blood vessels in the gash surrounding it. Without these, Simon would bleed to death in minutes, although time was less relevant here than in the outside world.

Eventually, the whole process was done, and Elvren staggered backwards, into Igor's arms. He had obviously greeted the customer and bid him through to the infirmary to meet Elvren, although for the moment Elvren was in no condition to be met, as Igor propped him up to recover.

He sat on the bed behind him, as it was devoid of a patient, and tried desperately to focus. As he did, the gold light finally shimmered off his body, and was gone.

[Chezak D'Maroe]

Chezak froze in the entranceway as the door closed behind him. His hand crossed his body to grip the hilt of his falchion as another cry of agony echoed through the infirmary.

That fellow is certainly not going to live long, he thought to himself. Looking around, he could see there was no one in the service area of the place to help him, so he continued further in. The screams were coming from his left, and from his right the regular sounds of a blacksmith shop-chiseling, grinding, steam hissing-hardly slowed at the interruption.

As he rounded the entranceway on the left, he nearly ran into a man coming from the other direction. Chez could just see over the man's shoulder further into what could only be the infirmary. Beds lined in a row, mostly empty, and the typical cleaning solution smell covering the sickly-sweet coppery smell of blood. He could see the fellow from which the screams were coming from, and another young man kneeling over him, speaking calmly to him.

It was only when the fellow he had almost run into blocked his vision again that Chez realized the other man had said something to him.

"I'm sorry, say again?" Chez said, turning his attention the man.

"I'm Igor, sir. What can we do for you?" the man repeated.

"Well, Igor. I decided I needed to have some more arrows made, and I was hoping to get the blades made here. What would the charge be?"

As Igor began to speak again, Chez shuddered. Magic was being used nearby. He had never been able to use it, but he could often feel when it was in use. When it was close enough, he could even tell who or what was using the magic. This wasn't close enough, but his gaze was instantly drawn into the infirmary. A golden light was ... drifting, was the only word he could think of ... down the arms of the kneeling man into the man lying on the cot.

Without even thinking, Chez simply brushed by Igor, intent now on the goings on in the infirmary. He continued until he was three beds away, then stopped, wanting to be well away. He had seen healing before; in fact, he was certain that some of the elven healers in Tian Xia were some of the best in the world. He had never seen anything quite like this, however.

Igor brushed by Chezak in turn, giving the elf a put-upon look as he went and hovered near the man using magic. Chez wasn't quite sure how the laws in Thar Shaddin worked, but he did know that magic was, for some reason or another, outlawed here. For this man to be using it openly in a business, he must have some sort of special license or permission. Chez shrugged the thought away as the man stood and staggered back, directly into the waiting arms of Igor.

It was obvious the healing had taken a lot out of the man as Igor lowered him onto a bed on the opposite side of the room. Chez slipped by to look at the injured man, as the healer was obviously in no shape to speak at the moment. Where the blood was still running off the man's side, there was no sign of any damage whatsoever, although the man still looked pale from lack of blood. He was also unconscious.

Chez turned back to the healer and waited, allowing the man some time to gather himself.

[Elvren Sigorax]

Elvren sat on the bed, waiting for the pain to subside. As soon as it had, he shot off the bed and darted to Simon's bedside, to check his condition. Relief flooded him as it became apparent that the magic had been successful. The gash was gone, fully healed, and there was no trace of a scar. The patient should regain conciousness very soon, and the nurses would be able to give him some fluids and let him stay the night, to sleep it off.

Looking around, he noticed that most of the beds were empty. This was good, and bad, in some ways. The infirmary had twelve beds, and of those, eleven were usually in use. The twelfth was reserved for on-call night staff, to enable them to be as close to their patients as possible should an emergency arise.

The beds were arranged in rows, along either side of the infirmary room, which made up the western side of the building. On the near side was the door in from the small, poorly lit hallway which served both walking patients and smithy customers.

The building itself was two stories, the lowers being smithy and infirmary combined, and the upper, smaller area being Elvren's living space, along with a tiny box office. The hospital portions had been made in the road-most room, comprising the corner of the block. This ensured the best possible access due to the encircling road.

Around the corner lay the main entrance, in the southernmost face of the building. It was a small, disproportionate wooden door, strengthened with metal, which had three rusted iron hinges fitted into it's structure. Inside, the entrance hall lay, dimly lit by two electric lamps in either wall. The hall contained little more than two reception desks. That is to say, it contained a large table, which had been sawn in half, and to which more legs had been added, which was used as two reception desks.

These lay to the left and right of the hallway, the former serving the infirmary, and the latter, the smithy, with an aisle between them wide enough to accommodate a stretcher patient and their bearers, comfortably.

Behind the desks, two doors lay in either side of the hallway, and on the back wall, a large crest proudly declared the infirmary legally entitled to utilise healing magic. Beneath that, a simple sign pointed left and right, indicating the infirmary on the left and the smithy on the right.

The smithy filled the other half of the building, which stretched on behind the entrance, covering perhaps a quarter of the block, and contained some of the most efficient forges ever seen in Pal Tehranor. Only five men worked here, for reasons of space, and pay, pumping the bellows to keep the fires lit, and forging the metals themselves. Each product was personally vetted by Elvren upon completion, and only then was the seal of Sigorax engraved into it, as a marque of quality.

The smoke from the forges drifted lazily out of the open side of the building, as over the forge parts there was no upper floor. Due to some crafty building design on the tiny portion of roof, which protected the forge from rain, the smoke was somehow kept away from the infirmary.

After checking his own condition, Elvren stood again, and met his customer.

"Good morrow, sir. How may I serve you today?" He asked, tone cheery and professional.

[Chezak D'Maroe]

Chezak watched as the man suddenly leaped up, obviously feeling well enough to do a hurried check on his patient. The man didn't look too surprised that there wasn't even a trace of a scar, though Chez had heard that was not often the case. Perhaps the injury hadn't been as serious as it had first sounded.

Chez shook his head to clear his wearied mind of frivolous thoughts as the healer paused for a moment to be sure he himself was well.

More concern for the patient than himself, Chez thought, remembering another he knew who had been like that. He had heard from that elven healer that on occasion, a healer who was too concerned with the patient sometimes forgot to worry about himself, and would allow all the life to drain from himself in order to save that patient.

"Good morrow, sir. How may I serve you today?"

Chez offered a small smile, merely a slight upward curve of the corners of his mouth. His voice, when he spoke was cool and relaxed, deep for an elf, but still melodious as he formed the words of the human tongue with hardly an accent. He offered a hand to the healer to shake, as he knew was the human custom, although it still felt strange to him.

"My name is Chezak, good healer. I had come to inquire about the making of some arrowheads when I caught your...," he paused slightly, searching for a word, "... light show." He waved a hand to indicate the man on the bed. "Is your healing always this good, to leave not even a scar as a reminder to take care?"

The question came out innocent enough, although the slightly arrogant way it was said might offend those who were easily offended.

[Elvren Sigorax]

"My name is Chezak, good healer. I had come to inquire about the making of some arrowheads when I caught your... light show. Is your healing always this good, to leave not even a scar as a reminder to take care?"

Elvren smiled thinly, as the effect of healing such a serious injury began to fall away from him. He sighed, heavily, as his heart began to return to it's normal beat, his breath it's normal rhythm.

Glancing over at his patient as Chezak spoke, Elvren reflected upon what he had just done, as he always did when people asked questions about his magic. To him, it was natural - if you could help someone, you did, no questions. Hence why he offered free healthcare.

He flicked his tongue over his cracked and dry lips, before speaking, his tone slightly cracked as fatigue washed over him.

"My healing? It does as it does, friend. The more serious the injury, the more I need to use. It never leaves scars, not since I was a small child. Practice makes perfect."

So tired was he, that the arrogance in the other man's tone hadn't begun to enter his mind yet. Instead, he wandered over to the kitchen, and made two glasses of water. Walking back, he set one beside Simon's bed, and began to sip slowly from the other, savouring the chilled liquid as it flowed down his throat, satisfying his thirst.

"You mentioned arrowheads? If you would follow me into the office, I will need to take some specifications from you." By office, Elvren meant the smithy reception desk in the main hallway, which the other man must surely have noticed covered in backed-up paperwork on his way in.

Turning to leave the infirmary, he beckoned Chezak to follow, throwing a gesture to Igor that he was to look after Simon whilst he was indisposed.

Reaching the infirmary door, he pulled it open, and stood in front of it to let Chezak past.

Suddenly, the double doors at the far end of the room flung open, smacking into the walls with two enormous bangs, and a horseless ambulance was pulled in. Elvren's rules of protocol dictated that ambulances could enter the infirmary into the space provided, but the horse had to be removed from it for sanitation reasons.

The men pulling the carriage spun it round carefully, so that the doors in the back were facing into the hospital, then set the front down. They both ran to the doors and opened them, before removing the patient from the ambulance, stretchering her over to a nearby bed, and made their way towards Elvren.

Elvren, for his part, was busying himself racing across the room towards them, his own fatigue forgotten. As he reached them, the paramedics brandished the paperwork at him. Hurredly signing it, he thrust it back at them, and they made to leave.

Elvren gazed at his new patient. A young woman, no older than twenty, whose name, from the notes, was Sara. Her white robes were covered in blood, and Elvren found it hard to believe it was all her own blood. Sweat was beaded on her forehead, as she convulsed with pain and lolled her head from side to side.

Suddenly, this stopped. Her eyes snapped open. She took one look at Elvren, and her mouth dropped open. From the depths of her throat, a primal scream of pain flooded the room, a scream of sheer, intense, excruciating hurt.

Then, with a small cough, she stared at him, her eyes glazed over, and she died.

Tears filled Elvren's eyes as he watched, gazing at her lifeless body, wondering who could cause such a beautiful lady such harm. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he sighed, body wracked with sobbing, for a soul he barely knew.

Gently, and with great delibration, his fingers moved to her face, to her eyes. Slowly, with perhaps the greatest of repect for her body, he dragged the eyelids down, and closed her eyes, that she may finally be at peace.

Bowing his head, he let his arm drop to the side, as he knelt beside her bed. Head still bowed in remorse, he whispered a prayer for her.

Merciful gods, I am sorry. Today, an angel returns to you.

Then, he stood, wiped his tearful eyes, and turned to his staff, who had all crowded around. Today, for the first time since the infirmary's founding, Elvren Sigorax had lost a patient.

His grieving was interrupted, though, as through the open doors, wounded began to literally pour. In the space of barely seconds, the hospital was filled to capacity. Blood covered the floor as screams of pain filled the air from seventeen new arrivals. Yelling orders to his staff, over the screams, Elvren darted to and from each bed, assessing each patient's priority of need in an instant.

Today was going to be another hell-raiser, he could see that. Seventeen patients, all priority one.

His mind flared as he went on auto-pilot, moving with grace and speed between each bed, healing who he could, making comfortable those he could not. In the back of his mind, a single thought barged it's way into his conciousness.

Save them all.

[Saeven]

Saeven, being the polite soul that he is, said thank you through a grimace that he hid as best he could as the rather unkempt cook handed him a bowl of…what was it really? Wait could this be…why yes I think it is. See that chunk or mystery in the literally moldable gunk of was supposed to be his stew, surly that is rabbit. Saeven took an experimental bite and sure enough it was dog. Surprise! Saeven gagged at his discovery and did his best to cover it up as a cough. He knew the taste of dog, his family had a really bad season and were short money so…well you get the picture, “add details here.” He really wanted to eat it quickly so that he could get it all down before his taste buds could discover what else was in the stew but his curiosity just got the better of him. He found himself digging a tunnel in the moldable gook, calmly taking bites as he went. “What could this be?” he took a bite discovering it to be rabbit. Of course any cook worth his salt would have marinated at least a little rabbit along with the meet in question, hoping to imitate an overall taste of rabbit. Saeven digged at his teeth and pulled out a hair tossing it to the side. “My compliments to the chef.” He said indifferently. Honestly what did you expect for 1 Bishan? Having arrived at the city for only the second time in his life he had of course done what any sensible teen would have done. He had spent money. Food, gnomish trinkets, more food, a nice place to stay, sweets, plus dinner with the baker girl he had met last night. Only now was he debating whether the kiss he had gotten was worth the money he had spent. She was incredibly cute, unfortunately now he was down to 6 and ½ Bishan, oops. “Is it possible for me to get another bowl?” He ask politely knowing that this was probably one of the only places he was going to get some substantial food for such a low price. The cook spat, leaving a little pile of black…hey I think I’ve seen that before…uh-oh. “Sure kid but I’m short on supply so it’ll be 3 Bishan.” Saeven was green but he managed a convincing “Never mind I think I’ve had more than I need.” That was of course very true, but hey that was one mystery solved.

Saeven desperately needed a job, that was what he had come here to do wasn’t it? At this point in time though he just wanted enough money that he wouldn’t ever have to buy a Bishan’s worth of food again. The only problem with that is where on earth was he going to get a job? What did he want to do for that matter? Saeven gave a little sigh and as he did there was a rush of wind that hit his face accompanied by a ‘KA’ followed immediately by a defining ‘BOOOOOM!’ and a rush of air from his back blowing him off his feet. Debris fell about him as he instinctively lay on the ground covering his head. As soon as that stopped he looked behind him to see that a small gnome shop had latterly exploded with epic proportions. People screamed, some in shock and fear, others in pain. For a moment he couldn’t think all he did was stare. He saw a little girl run over to one of the bodies that littered the ground. He scrambled to his feet and rushed over to the girl. When he reached her he noticed that the girl was crying over a woman of maybe 25 years of age, “Mommy, mommy, mommy…” She said over and over again tears flowing down her face, Saeven sucked in a breath of air in surprise, for a second he had thought it was Margery back home waking up from one of the horrible nightmares that haunted her sleep. Two men ran to the woman’s side that now had a steady flow of blood flowing from an open wound. The explosion had probably sent objects flying ripping apart human flesh that it came in contact with. “Get some help quick!” One of them shouted and some other men ran off, most likely to the nearest healers. “Her wounds are bad.” The other said examining it, but he was obviously inexperienced in the matter, just a man who happened to be there. Saeven gently grabbed the young girls hand and pulled her away. “Common lets give them some room to help save your mommy ok?” He said with the same voice that used to help comfort his younger sisters. The girl let him pull her away, not knowing what to do she hugged him and cried. Saeven gently stroked her hair, “shhhh…shhhhh…its alright.” He said soothingly rocking back and forth, he did this completely out of habit since he did the same thing so often, in all honestly all he could do was stair at the blood that was pouring out of the woman’s wound, the man desperately trying to stop it with his own shirt. Saeven tore his gaze away and looked down at the girl “What’s your name?” Saeven asked quietly trying to help get her mind off the shock. “S…Sk…Sky…” She managed to choke out between sobs. “Its alright Sky…everything is going to be ok.”

A group of men were coming now with them a horse and cart. A man quickly came to the woman’s side, kneeling right next to Saeven and the girl. “Girl what’s her name?” he demanded from Sky. Saeven glared at the man, then gently asked sky, “We need to know your moms name, can you tell me?” Again she was able to choke out a reply. “Sa…Sara…” Saeven again looked at the man with dislike, demanding things from a distressed little girl. “Its Sara.” He told another man behind him who wrote it down along with some other things. “I will now be using magic in order to help heal the wound, as this license allows me to in times of emergencies.” He held up a medal medallion that must have been his license. He put his hand on the wound of the woman and concentrated. Several long seconds passed, the man sucked in a struggled breath, sweat was all over his face due to his concentration. Another ten seconds passed and absolutely nothing happened. “Shit, its not working!” He yelled in frustration, “Quickly get her to Elvren!” He said, and then quickly rushed off to try and help others. “Tsk…” Saeven muttered under his breath. “Leave it to a magic user.” A useless waist of time, instead of learning his useless tricks he should have spent that time to learn how to properly take care of a wound in a time of need, then maybe he would have been of some damn use instead of waving his useless license around. They loaded the woman on the stretcher, “Mommy!” Sky cried trying rush up to her side, but Saeven held her back, “Hold on Sky don’t worry we are going follow them ok? We just need to give them room.” Holding her hand they followed quickly after the cart that rushed off with Sara.

They came to a big building and quickly went inside after the cart. A crowd had gathered around, and everyone was silent. That was not a good sign. He pushed through the crowd until he was in the front. He saw a man, his head bowed over, whispering something very quietly. Since everyone was silent and Saeven had really good hearing he heard it clear as day. “Merciful gods, I am sorry. Today, an angel returns to you.” A prayer for the dead. Oh no, was Saeven’s only thought. The man stood, and the other wounded began to pour into the infirmary. He gave orders and the crowd quickly dispersed, leaving Saeven, Sky, and Sara. “…Mommy?” Sky said, letting go of Saevens hand and kneeling next to her mother. “Wake up…” She said in a pitifully small voice. “…Wake up.” She said again resting her head against Sara’s stomach. Over and over she pleaded her mother to wake up, tears flowing once again with full force. Saeven could do nothing but stair. What could he do? Pull her away and say everything would be alright? Her mother had died, and there was absolutely nothing Saeven could do to make it better. So he stood dumb, his own tears starting to but he quickly brushed them away before anyone could see, and forced himself to stop. He wasn’t supposed to cry, he couldn’t cry, he had to stay strong. But it was just so sad, a little girl begging death to give back her mother.

[Chezak D'Maroe]

Chez remained quiet through Elvren's discourse, nodding when appropriate. His attention was momentarily distracted by a low rumbling and a slight shaking of the building, but he simply attributed it to the smithy. He pulled an arrow out of the quiver hung at his hip when the man began speaking of specifications. As he stepped through the door Elvren held open for him, he opened his mouth to speak.

"First, I ..."

The double doors at the far end of the infirmary slammed open with enough force for them to rebound off the walls. Chez turned to see a horseless carriage roll in, two men quickly and efficiently turning it in the small space available.

In short order, the doors on the back of the carriage were opened, and a woman was rushed out and placed on a bed. Chez had to catch the door on the palm of his hand as it swung shut, the healer already racing towards the far end of the infirmary.

Chez sighed. Every healer had a bleeding heart, and he was mildly surprised that this one was able to keep his smithy running with the amount of business that he likely turned away to events like this.

Glancing at the arrow in his hand, Chez turned to leave.

[Elvren Sigorax]

As he raced from bed to bed, Elvren noticed Chezak turning to leave. Motioning to Igor, he told him to stop him, and to ask him to wait for Elvren, as he wouldn't be long now.

Most of the injured were stable now, as Elvren's batch of healers did their jobs well. A young man who Elvren had never seen before appeared to have helped out, as had a few other people who'd just happened to be stood around when the wounded had come in.

Issuing some orders of his staff, Elvren went over to the door, and hoped that Igor had managed to persuade his customer to stay.

[Chezak D'Maroe]

Chezak turned at the tap on his shoulder. It was the first man he had met inside, Igor, Saeven had called him. He was already on the street when the tap came; Igor had followed him outside.

"Yes?" Chezak asked, thin brow raised.

"Ah, Master Saeven asks that you remain. He says he shall only be a few minutes. He has many others besides himself who help with the injured," came the man's reply.

Chezak paused, taking another sweeping glance at the street, then nodded. He was really too tired to search out another smithy, and a place to sit and relax for a few minutes wouldn't go amiss. He followed Igor back inside, where he was settled on a chair to wait. The bustle he saw in the infirmary was indeed many more men than he remembered seeing, and things seemed well in order.

He had been so long on his feet that he couldn't remember the last time he had sat down. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he leaned back in the chair, resting the back of his head on the wall and closing his eyes. After a few moments, he slipped into a light meditation, to help restore some of his energy. He had had precious few opportunities for even this light resting over the last few days.

Through the meditation, Chezak heard a bell ring from the other side of the infirmary. He had noticed that the horse drawn carriage had been removed from the place, and the doors had been closed. With seventeen injured people already in the infirmary, he decided this would be a very busy day for the healer.

Those thoughts skittered through the meditation, taken note of, but not concentrated on. Chez remained in his meditation, slipping a little deeper for more rest. His decision was to remain here until Saeven had time to discuss the needed arrows. He was tired of walking.

[Lylessa Uluki]

((Continued from: http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic ... sc&start=0))

The family stood outside the door to the infirmary, waiting tensely for an answer to the bell.

The most critically injured person was the Duskling; she had crossbow bolts sticking out of her chest and abdomen, and was unconscious. The human was also wounded but awake, though he had two bleeding wounds in his back, one in his side, and his right shoulder was rather mangled. He wouldn't be on his feet for long, not with those injuries and the blood loss.

The other three family members were unharmed. A girl who appeared to be a teenager, albeit a very tall and strong one, was holding the wounded Duskling, and a more fragile teenager stood beside them, holding a Half-Duskling, Half-Human baby.

The man and the girls were tense and worried, and their faces betrayed their exhaustion. They hoped for a swift answer to the bell, and powerful healing within.

[Elvren Sigorax]

Finally, Elvren breathed a sigh of relief. The patients were stable, and some of them were even standing up now, healed and recovered in minutes from life-threatening injuries. Magic worked well, and medicine worked where it didn't.

Elvren turned to the door, meaning to go and see if Chezak had decided to stay, and to enquire about the arrowheads. And, as he reached the door again, all hell broke loose.

Again.

The bell was ringing. The bell which signified new arrivals was ringing.

Elvren began to walk towards the double doors again, breaking in to a run very quickly. His staff, at a gesture from him, pulled one of the doors open, and gasped when they saw what lay beyond.

They had only a handful of beds to spare now, maybe six, since the other load of patients had come in. Elvren pleaded with the gods in his mind that there would not be more than that to enter.

Stepping outside, he encountered the family, and his heart sank as he saw the duskling, pierced by wicked-looking metal, unconscious. Turning to an aide, he bid him carry her inside, without a word he did so. Gently lifting the body from the girl's arms, he turned, and carefully walked inside.

To the rest of them, he introduced himself. They all looked OK, except for one, who was being propped up by his fellows, but was still conscious.

"My name is Elvren. Please, come in. Here you will find food, shelter, and healing for your injured. We will do all we can for you."

He stepped aside, leaving the door clear for the family to pass through.

[AngelMacleod]

((Continued from: http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic ... sc&start=0))

Another person stood outside with the family. His injuries weren't fatal, but still significant; there are two considerably deep punture wounds in his right arm, already wrapped up in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but to no avail; the bleeding continued, albeit at a much slower rate than they were when he first got them. One would also notice that his arm was scarred beyond reason, but the scars were old ones...too old to be healed.

When the door opened, and the family was let in, he let himself in as well, holding his right arm.

[Lylessa Uluki]

((NPC Post))

Rollick nodded gratefully to Elvren, speaking to him quietly as he passed through the door. "The Duskling... my wife... she's badly hurt. I was hoping that you could..."

He didn't know what to say. How do you ask for magic in a city where magic was outlawed? He feared his request would put Uluki in more danger. He decided to go for euphemistic.

"Please do what you can for her. Whatever you can." He stressed the word, trying to convey his meaning. "We have no money, and little in the way of possessions, but whatever price you ask, we'll do our best to come up with it. We just... we need her back. Please..."

Yet again, Rollick felt helpless, completely at the mercy of others. This man seemed kind, though, and as Rollick reminded himself, he was a healer like Uluki. Surely he would understand.

Rollick moved to Uluki's bedside, taking her hand in his. She would be well soon. At least, he hoped she would.

His own wounds could wait. He wanted to stay by Uluki until he was sure she would be alright. He had never left her when she needed him, and he wasn't leaving her side until she was healed. Once she was out of danger, Rollick would look to having his own injuries attended to.

All the excitement was proving too much for Martin. He was hungry and tired and all the rest of the family seemed so worried. And now, being in the hospital, surrounded by strange noises and unfamiliar people, he was overwhelmed. He began to cry, loudly and plaintively.

Rollick didn't want the baby to distract the healers, but he was reluctant to leave his wife, so he was pleased when Zee offered, "I'll take him outside and give him something to eat. You stay with Mama."

"Thank you," Rollick said gratefully. "Don't wander too far." Zee nodded her agreement and took the crying baby out of the infirmary.

Dash took her father's hand. "They'll help her? She'll be alright?" Her voice shook.

Rollick nodded. "Yes. They'll heal her. She'll be fine." He hoped that was true, that they'd managed to get her here in time.

[Lylessa Uluki]

A healer bent over Uluki, first pulling out the bolts, then closing her wounds using magic.

Her eyelids fluttered for a moment, then she woke. She allowed the healer to finish his spells, all the while taking her bearings. She could have healed herself, but better to save her strength while she could.

Rollick was by her, holding her hand, seeming conscious only of her, not the other healer mending Rollick's own injuries. Rollick smiled at Uluki, and she smiled back and squeezed his hand.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "You saved my life."

He looked confused. "You were unconscious. How do you know what I did?"

"I know you. You wouldn't leave me. We're both alive, so that means you brought me with you. Thank you for that."

He leaned down and kissed her softly, careful not to disturb her already-mending injuries. "Any time you need it, dear one. Though I hope for your sake it won't happen often."

The healer pronounced Uluki healthy, though he offered to let her stay and rest. "No thank you," she replied, sitting up. "I appreciate what you did for me, but I'm better now. You should save the bed for someone who's really hurt."

Rollick, now healed too, helped her to her feet, and also offered his thanks to the healers, who accepted the gratitude, though not the offers of eventual repayment, and hurried off to assist those who still needed healing.

Uluki wrapped her arms around Rollick. "My brave one, my strong one..." she murmured, glad to be alive, glad to be with him, and grateful he'd been willing to risk his own life to save hers.

"Hardly either, I'm afraid. It shouldn't have happened at all. If I'd been stronger, you wouldn't have gotten hurt. A younger man..."

"Would have flown across the battlefield on wings and snatched the bolts out of the air with his teeth?" Her tone was playful, but she stressed the next words. "Rollick, you could have done nothing to prevent this, and I know you saved my life. I know what that cost. I saw the injuries, and I know they happened while you were helping me. No one could ask for more than what you did."

He smiled, the guilt leaving his face when he realized there would be no blame, that she was pleased with his efforts on her behalf. "It was well worth my while."

"I'll certainly make it worth your while next chance we get to be alone together..."

Uluki hugged a still worried-looking Dash as Rollick explained where the other children were.

Uluki turned to Angel. "I suppose this is goodbye for now. I'm sure we'll meet again soon, but for now I need to go join my other two children. Be well."

With more thanks to the healers, they stepped out to meet Zee and Martin... who were gone. With mounting worry the family searched and called, but with no result. They split up to search, agreeing to meet back up later, hopefully reunited with Zee and Martin.

((Continued: http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic.php?t=1086))