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Author Topic: Nyermersys - {SC} Hospital of Seyella  (Read 14427 times)
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Gararion
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« on: February 06, 2007, 12:37:19 PM »

Walking through the South garden you see the main building that surround this area. You can see Seagorn-garrison, the prison, and the Hospital.

The Hospital rests in two structures, one larger then the other. The smaller one holds the hospital for the poor or those who can't afford proper or needed treatment. The larger one has a large door with a man standing in front of it. You assume that he is making sure only the people who can afford the services offered within are allowed within. The smaller structure doors are opened to anyone of the public.
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« Reply #1 on: February 06, 2007, 10:58:55 PM »

  The crisp morning air was still, with just an occasional low comment heard in the Garden from an old woman sweeping off her front steps.  Already, a couple of early comers had lined up in front of the charity wing of the hospital.  Eyeing these two, a middle-aged man who looked to be nursing a sore ankle and an older woman whose white eyes suggested cataracts, Caein mused to himself, "Thus it begins..."

  He ducked the low portis to enter the side door of the charity hospital, saluting Priestess Amalthea as he entered.  He then wound his way through the urine bowls and specimen flasks he'd amassed along one wall, to the row of mats for poor people in need of shelter.

  "Do any of you need the attention of a Dalorin?" Kelancey asked, shaking the foot of a mangy-appearing man.

  "Wwss..." replied this man.

  "Anyone in need of a Dalorin?" Kelancey asked again.

  "...too ancient, little known..." came from the corner of the room, though too low for Kelancey to catch much of it.

  He approached the one who said this, and examined him for a moment.  He was a swarthy, older man with grey in his scraggly beard, one earlobe missing and scarred, who pursed his thin, chapped lips and let out a short, low whistle.

  "You'll not be on to this game till the rat catcher's already upon you!" whispered this poor fellow.

  "Sorry, I don't follow where you're going with this," Kelancey replied.

  "Heh," the man replied, his bushy grey eyebrows arced in mock surprise.  "There is much you have yet to learn, Dalorin.  Leave me be.  I am tired, and my time is already come."

  Kelancey pondered this as he visited Aeroc, a regular visitor who was still stuporous from last night's round.  "Aeroc, didn't you have a fine brooch last time I saw you?" Kelancey asked.

  "Muss've loss it lass noit a' the pub," Aeroc mumbled.  "'Ere, sir, be a bloke, would ya?  D'ya fink you could go in thair an' pick it up for us?"

  "Ah, well, I've still things to get to today," Kelancey stammered.

  "Ah, go on then, sir!  Be a gent, won'cha?"

  "Um, Aeroc, I'm your Dalorin, not your...Oh, fine.  Where were you last night?"

  "Aaah, 'at's the queschun of the hour, id'n it, then?" Aeroc stammered.  Kelancey let out a long sigh, asked the priestess to deliver Aeroc some hot cha and a blanket, and made his way out the front door.  Who do I ask where he's been?, Kelancey wondered.  He was never good at puzzles like this...
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« Reply #2 on: February 07, 2007, 12:25:41 PM »

As you ponder about the problem at hand, two guards drag in a barely conscious male, his feet dragging alone the stone floor.  Calling out to no one in particular, they ask where to place him.  From a distance there seems to be little wrong the male, though he does seem to be groaning in pain. 

You also notice that another guest seems to fear the presence of the guards within the hospital, for he begins to squirm in his makeshift bed upon the floor, as if trying to hide form them.  You remember one of the night shift priests mentioning that the male had come in a few nights ago.  He suffered no visual illnesses, though he refused to leave at the time.
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« Reply #3 on: February 07, 2007, 11:15:58 PM »

  Kelancey took note of one man huddled under a blanket, his knapsack torn, his clothing disheveled.  This beleaguered man gave the appearance of hiding from inquiring eyes.  In truth, this wing of the hospital was dedicated to serving everyone without regard to ability to pay.  And, from his past experiences here, Kelancey had the impression that the Brothers and Sisters of Seyella who served here were usually disinclined to pry into the private affairs of people who wished to remain anonymous.  All the same, this man stuck out in Kelancey’s mind, and he made note to himself to glean what he could of this poor soul.

  He turned his attention to the two guards who delivered another fellow to the hospital's care.  Kelancey simultaneously respected and feared the city guard.  That they were steadfast defenders of the city, and that they kept eternal watch, he never questioned.  However, the manner in which they defended, their treatment of accused scoundrels, and their apparent assumption of immunity from investigation unsettled Kelancey, to say the least.  He questioned the two guards who'd just arrived, not really expecting to get much out of them.  He thought it wise to show them more respect than perhaps their station in society would otherwise warrant.

  "Sirs, if you would be so kind, place the man in your custody on this table, that I might examine him.  Please could you tell me, what has happened to this man?  How did you find him?  Has he been assaulted?”  Kelancey asked as he removed clothing which impeded the examination.  He quickly went to his desk for a urine bowl and lancet.  Taking his wrist between his thumb and two fingers, he felt the man’s heart spasms were rapid yet palpable.  He then laid a hand on his forehead to check for fever.  He pushed on the man’s lower belly, hoping to collect some excreta from him.  “What do you decent guardians know of this man?”
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« Reply #4 on: February 08, 2007, 11:49:29 AM »

"We found him nearby, down Beggar's Ally.  Just because the street is name such, doesn't give this filth the right to lay in the path of the guards horses."  As the two place the male upon the table as instructed they step back and eye each other as you begin to remove the mans clothing.

Under close examination, the man seems just week from starvation, though as you remove the males shirt, you spot the beginnings of a bruise on his side.  It appears as if the man was kicked or stepped on by something heavy.  A u shape red marking outlines the faint bruise, though you're sure that in time the bruise will become more dominant.  It seems the guards have taken notice of the attention you seem to give to the marking, though they don't object.  The man seems to have no other visible wounds and doesn't respond to your gentle push on his stomach, most likely form dehydration.

Suddenly one of the guards speaks up.  "Say Caein, have you ever gotten around to getting those identification papers replaced of yours?  You know it's mandatory for everyone to reform to the new papers.  And I don't want to hear about you donating all your money.  So, have you gotten the papers?!  I doubt it.  I'll give you to the twelfth to have evidence of your papers.  So you better get yourself to the town hall."  With that said, both guards turn and make their way to the exit.
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« Reply #5 on: February 11, 2007, 03:21:17 PM »

  Kelancey looked up from his ward and leaned towards the more talkative guard.  "We found him nearby, down Beggar's Ally. Just because the street is name such, doesn't give this filth the right to lay in the path of the guards horses," the guard explained.

  Well, they were about as informative as I had hoped: smug, self-righteous, and largely unhelpful, Kelancey thought.  He turned the recently-stomped man onto his back, hoping he might rouse to consciousness soon. The thought came to him, This bruise will become engorged soon, and will require leeches in no time.  Going through his desk for a pestle, he made up a plaster of odea moss in an unused mortar.  He returned to the yet-unconscious man and, making a small wound to his left wrist with his lancet, withdrew a few drops of blood to add to the paste, and applied the resultant mash to the man’s side.  He squeezed the man’s wrist once more to coerce a few more drops of blood from him.  This he slid between his fingers, touched to his tongue, and examined in the light entering through the front door.

  Surmising that this man would take some time before he was up and about, Kelancey searched the room for the man who had shrunk from the guards when they entered.  “Pardon me, fellow, are you in need of healing?  Tell me, what troubles you?” Kelancey asked of this worried soul.  “Is there any way that I may assist you?”
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« Reply #6 on: February 14, 2007, 02:29:06 PM »

    Making good work of your skills, you patch up the wounded man that the guards had brought in as they leave.  Knowing that you've done all that you can for now, you make your way over to the withdrawn figure you had taken notice of earlier.  While you worked on the wounded man, you had noticed that this man had not calmed till the guards had left.

    As you speak, the man eyes seem to tear up as you ask him if you can help him.  He slowly backs away, pulling the blanket that he had been given the night earlier to keep him warm up around his neck.  As he backs away, you notice that there's a blood stain upon the blanket, close to his face.  Upon closer examination, you can spot the slight trace of dried blood in the corner of his lips.  His lips seemed to be unharmed though.
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« Reply #7 on: February 15, 2007, 06:19:08 AM »

  Perusing this huddled man’s face, spotting the dried blood, Kelancey’s heart pounds hard.  Is he producing this blood from within?  If not, is it from somewhere else?  Is he feasting on raw meat?  Does he have some unclean predilection?  Fearing that this may be consumption or some other contagion, he seeks to scrutinize this man with a healthy distance.

  “Decent man, if I may inquire, from where have you brought up this blood about your mouth?  Did you produce this blood yourself?”  He summons an acolyte to bring water and clean rags to wash away the detritus, and encourages the boy to make very slow, deliberate movements around this man.  Kelancey stands to the left side in front of the man, maintaining his eyes on the man’s face to watch for any reaction.  He follows the man’s eyes, hoping to glean something from his pattern of breathing, the caliber of his pupils, or the emotions displayed in his face.

  After a moment’s circumspection, Kelancey changes his approach before cleansing this man’s face.  “I shall tell you my thoughts, fellow…pardon me, what is your name again?” Kelancey asks the strange man.  “Perchance it would be better if we had a guard with us, in case you are delirious or under a curse?  I believe a couple of obliging fellows left this room not more than a few minutes ago.  Please, would you be kind enough to stay here, and I shall see to it that one of our loyal acolytes attend your wishes till I return?”
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« Reply #8 on: February 15, 2007, 03:31:48 PM »

    As your query about the source of the blood, the male before you refuses to answer.  His attention seems torn between making eye contact with you and watching the door where the guards had left, as if he was making sure no one entered.

    As you begin to wash his face, he only sits there, not pulling away nor moving closer.  He seems content in what you and your acolyte are doing, cleaning the dried blood from his lips.  Though you do notice something while you wash his lips.  Even though the man didn't pull away from you, his jaw has seemed to tense, as if he is making sure his mouth doesn't open under the pressure of the your touch.  This is the only reaction you are granted as you clean.

    Though as you begin to speak about the guard, his muscles tense further.  He now stares into your eyes, the familiar look of fear within his eyes.  "Please, would you be kind enough to stay here, and I shall see to it that one of our loyal acolytes attend your wishes till I return?"  Suddenly he pulls away, backing away from you and staring at the door as he raises his hands and waves in a fashion as if saying no.  He begins to open his mouth, but then the look in his eyes changes, as if he remembers something.  In the brief moment that his mouth is beginning to open, a new trickle of blood escapes into the corners of his lips.  You also notice that his hands are rather clean, other then a little dirty.  You have a hard time believe he could be handling anything bloody and eating it without making a mess of his hands.

    As he backs away a good ped away from you and the acolyte, he continues to hold wave his hands about.  Suddenly he sits up on his knees and clasps his hands together, as if praying to you.
« Last Edit: February 15, 2007, 03:33:23 PM by Gararion » Logged

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« Reply #9 on: February 17, 2007, 08:15:16 AM »

  "Alright, now look here, good man," Kelancey states upon seeing this tortured soul's response, "what is the matter with you?  Why will not you tell me what troubles you?"  Kelancey stops himself, realizing his tone could be interpreted as threatening, and decides to try a gentler approach.

  "Come now, let me see what ails you.  Will you open your mouth to show me from where this blood has spouted?"  Kelancey hastens back to place his hand on the man's shoulder, trying to demonstrate that he means no harm.  He slowly brings his right hand into plain view in front of the man's face, then makes to open the man's mouth.  "I have no intention of hurting you, and your welfare is assured, granted you bear no ill will toward anyone who inhabits this hospital.  Let me see what has happened to you."

  Kelancey gestures for the acolyte to bring a candle, to look inside his mouth, and more clean cloth to stanch any further bleeding.  He moves his left hand to place it on top of the man's head to position him for better examination.  "We are here to help you," Kelancey adds, his face softening, offering a consoling smile.
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« Reply #10 on: February 21, 2007, 12:51:50 AM »

    The man hesitates in opening his mouth for a long time, staring into your eyes as if he was looking deep within your soul for some sign of you lying.  It seems to you that he has lost all form of trust he once had in humanity.  During the entire time, it is rather silent, he speaks not a word nor mutters a sound.  You find yourself just about to give up on the gentleman when your hands begin to feel him tremble.  You see several tears fill his eyes and he slowly begins to open his mouth.  The more his mouth is opened, the more blood escapes from within.  It takes a good minute for him to fully open his mouth, tears mixing with the blood. 

    Within his mouth all you see for a good minute is a pool of blood.  Some fresh but a lot of it clotted.  As you work to clean his mouth to get a better view of what is the source of the blood, you swear that something is amiss.  It is not till you realize that the more you try to clean the mans mouth the more fresh blood seems to stem from bottom of the mans throat.  Then it dawns on you, you felt no tongue while you attempted to clean the mans mouth.

    The man before you sees it in your eyes the exact moment that you realize his pain and begins to cry, though his cries are more of a whimper from deep within his soul as you know he can no longer speak.
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« Reply #11 on: February 22, 2007, 07:58:38 AM »

  “Sweet Nehtor!”  Kelancey’s stomach turns, only for a moment, as he comprehends what has silenced this man.  His cheeks redden with anger for a moment, thinking about who would mutilate another human this way.  Pushing this thought aside for now, his focus turns to treating this man. 

  “If we cannot stop this bleeding, he will lose too much blood and die on us, and that will not come to pass!”  Kelancey exclaims, voicing his thoughts.  He commands the acolyte who’d been helping him previously, “Boy, bring me even more towels and a stitching needle now!”  Meanwhile, Kelancey bids the man to hold firmly onto the stump or whatever he can grasp with the bloodied towel in his hand, and keep squeezing it to slow the bleeding.  He stands too quickly, almost running into an old man shuffling over to the washbasin.  Walking briskly to the supply cabinet, he rummages through in search of various supplies, and hastens back to the mute man.

  “You will be alright, gentle soul.  Lay down here with your mouth open, and let us attend you,” Kelancey says with a stern and confident look.  He swipes a dry towel around the man’s mouth once more, then smears the man’s remnant of a tongue and mouth with yahrle ointment to stanch further bleeding.  To dull the pain from stitching, he then dabs por’mon salve on the tongue stump.  Seeing the acolyte return with the needle and towels, he offers his praise and gratitude—“Strong work, decent acolyte.  Good graces on you.”

  He unravels about a fore of yuatu’way fiber thread and ties it to the needle.  Next, he swabs the man’s tongue with totit oil to stave off infection.  “Dear fellow, close your eyes for a while.  This may hurt, though I am not callous to your pain.”  Kelancey makes to stitch the man’s wound closed, checking to see his reaction.

  Kelancey gives the man a firm squeeze on the shoulder and tells him, “Do not be afraid.  You have already weathered the worst of this calamity.”  Bidding the acolyte to hold the dental sweep to keep the man’s mouth open, Kelancey passes the needle several times to stitch the bleeding stump closed, then knots the loose ends.

  “You handled that very well, good man.  You are very patient, and I thank you.  Now, pardon me if I am pressing you too soon.  Can you write, gentle soul?  Can you read?  I want to find out who did this to you.”
« Last Edit: February 26, 2007, 09:49:58 AM by Kelancey the Green » Logged

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« Reply #12 on: February 24, 2007, 08:54:09 AM »

Two guards drag in another man, obviously unconscious. Smirking to each other, as if to some shared jest, they dump him and his pack unceremoniously on another cot and leave without so much as glancing at Kelancey.

The man, in crimson leather armor, has dried blood caked on the back of his head. He mumbles now and then, and begins to move his limbs listlessly. His face is flush, and if touched, would feel quite warm to the touch.
« Last Edit: February 24, 2007, 09:03:36 AM by Scael Pelegrene » Logged

“I hold a beast, an angel and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, downthrow and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression.” - Dylan Thomas
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« Reply #13 on: February 24, 2007, 10:22:50 AM »

  Never enough time…You finish doing one thing, and two more problems spring up, Kelancey grumbles under his breath.  “Excuse me, my good man,” he says to the mute man he’s been tending.  “I must leave you for now to attend another who needs assistance.  I bid you earnestly, rest here for now.”  With that, Kelancey rises, pushing up the sleeves of his coat and wiping his hands, then glances at the newly-arrived noble laying in the center of the room.

  Kelancey fetches clean towels, a bowl of water, and the stitching supplies. He hurries to where Scael was abruptly dropped and pulls a mat alongside Scael’s cot.  He lifts Scael’s eyelids, looking for signs of life in them.  Seeing that Scael is yet incoherent, he puts to scrubbing the dried blood from the noble’s head.  He is flushed and febrile, Kelancey muses, he might have sustained a blow to the brain.  His head is hot to the touch, but the skull appears intact.  It appears that the bleeding has stopped by now, and he lays a damp towel across Scael’s forehead.

  He stands once more, goes to the pantry of simples, and removes a flask of Aelvásh’már.  He returns to Scael’s side, opens his mouth, lifts his head to prevent him from choking, and pours a sip into Scael’s mouth.  He massages Scael’s throat to make the liquor pass easily, hoping that this will bring down the fever.
« Last Edit: February 28, 2007, 12:45:59 PM by Kelancey the Green » Logged

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« Reply #14 on: February 28, 2007, 11:25:16 AM »

  Kelancey rolls a towel into an improvised pillow and places it beneath this noble’s head, hoping that he will rest and recuperate swiftly.  He looks back to the injured man he was working with just a few minutes before.  He steps over the cot to the desk and scavenges through it for a short while, then brings out a charcoal stick and a sheet of coarse parchment paper.  He crosses the room to address this man once more.

  “Now, friend, let us learn what happened to you,” Kelancey says as gathers up the used cloths and sits to the left side of his mute ward.  “Was the one who attacked you wearing armor, and if so, was this armor of leather or metal?  Was it a he, or a she?  Was it another human, or some other race?  Did they have any distinguishing features, such as tattoos, beard or moustache, unusual hair arrangement, emblems on their clothes, or any other uncommon features?  Finally, do you know why they did this to you?”

  Kelancey offers the charcoal stick and sheet of paper to the man.  “Here, if you can, write down every detail you remember on this parchment.  This will be viewed only by you and me, and I will ask you before showing it to anyone else.”
« Last Edit: February 28, 2007, 12:47:53 PM by Kelancey the Green » Logged

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