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  #21  
Old 04-16-2010, 04:17 AM
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"These wounds are badly infected... Do you know how he came by them?" He looked up from his examination of the injured man, only to see the barmaid rush off, mumbling something about hot water. Nodding, he turned back to his examination.

Pulling out a pair of tweezers, he began to remove detritus from the wounds. "This needs cleaning...", he muttered. Rushing around the bar counter, he rummaged through the available bottles. His hand closed around a hot bottle. "Dragonsbreath, perfect..." He rushed back to the injured man's side, with bottle in hand.

He opened the bottle, and held down the man with his free hand. "This will hurt." he warned the barely conscious man, and poured the steaming liquid over the wounds.
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  #22  
Old 04-16-2010, 08:52 AM
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Fremen jumped to his feet as he noticed a thick crowd had gathered around the bar. He used his burly arms and shoulders to roughly shove aside the other patrons who had gathered around the fallen man. A nasty smell was emanating from him which left Fremen in little doubt that the man was badly injured. He noticed a man bending over the injured Deadlander. He also became consicious1of the aroma of another thing, which he himself had drunk several times before. "Dragonsbreath" he muttered to himself. Fremen strode foward calmly towards the two men leaving the other patrons stunned. He knelt beside the man and asked, "Perhaps an expert healer would be more useful?" He asked the healer, smiling kindly to show he meant no offense.

1 No pun intended
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  #23  
Old 04-16-2010, 09:48 AM
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((OOC : I am loving this, Good Rp peoples are so hard to find tho... The one in the tavern is NOT a deadlander.. Try mountain kingdom.. Infiltrator.


P.S. The Deadlander is coming and he isnt to happy

P.s.s. I am outcold no wakie wakie))
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  #24  
Old 04-16-2010, 02:25 PM
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“I promise I’m right behind you… he needed hot water…”

Fahte blinked dazedly as Sirenna went back to her business, a puddle of water forming at her feet the result of a rain soaked cloak; though in reality she was blinking to adjust her eyes to the change in lighting. From the darkness of the night to the warm brightness of the fiery cookplaces. In all her time working at the tavern, her relationship to Sirenna had been an odd one. Perhaps, it was too ordinary. She never knew what to make of Sirenna apart from her being a barmaid. Shaking her head clear, Fahte hung up her cloak, tidied herself and hurried out into the taproom.

It was hard not to miss the awkward bunch of adventurers huddled around... the person whom she assumed Sirenna said was waiting. Most noticeable of all were two men... and a woman. One who looked to be a seasoned warrior and another who appeared to have been set aflame only to have the fires doused in the storm. Both were fussing over the fallen man, grunting and huffing like a two headed ogre over a meal (from Fahte's point of view at least). On the other hand, the girl, dressed in what could be appropriately called rags, stood in the background. Silently overlooking them. Fahte watched as grimy hands reached out and poured a bottle of spirits onto the man's wound. A mixture of pungent and not altogether pleasant smells assailed Fahte and she wrinkled her nose disapprovingly. Sighing, she stepped toward the group of men.

"Excuse me... gentlemen." She began and cleared her throat to gain their attention.

"I'd rather you let the tavern staff take care of this matter. It is not altogether uncommon for a wounded traveler to drop by every now and then, you see... This is the Dragon Tavern after all. If you please, you can help me by carrying this man to one of healing rooms." She indicated another door beside the one that led to the kitchen, turning back to both men, Fahte put her hands on her hips and waited for an answer.

"If you don't hurry he might not make it. And then management won't be happy..."
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Last edited by uUyeel; 04-17-2010 at 01:45 AM. Reason: Added Qtchi in, forgot she was in the vicinity.
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  #25  
Old 04-16-2010, 03:47 PM
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"First clean the wound..." he murmured, running through what he learned in his Introduction to Healing class back at the Academy. Nearly lost in thought, he barely noticed the man come beside him. "Perhaps an expert healer would be more useful?" he asked.

Nodding, he replied "That would indeed expedite matters." Examining the speaker, clearly a soldier, he asked "Do you know of one? I do not believe this man will survive long without immediate assistance." He turned back to the injured man.

"First clean the wound..." he began again, under his breath. Before he could recall the next step, though, his line of thought was again interrupted by the sound of a woman's throat being cleared. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a rather imperious looking woman frowning at him.

"I'd rather you let the tavern staff take care of this matter. It is not altogether uncommon for a wounded traveler to drop by every now and then, you see... This is the Dragon Tavern after all. If you please, you can help me by carrying this man to one of healing rooms." she asked, indicating a nearby door. "If you don't hurry he might not make it. And then management won't be happy..."

Someone less versed in localized statistical anomalies might have been taken aback by the coincidence, but he merely nodded. Carefully, so as not to agitate the man's injuries, he lifted the man to carry him to the healing room. Or, that was the idea, at least. In actuality he had little success. Halfway through designing a gurney system using a ratcheted pulley design to negate the need for continuous energy input, he recalled the nearby soldier. "Perhaps you could assist me in this man's transfer?" he requested.
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  #26  
Old 04-16-2010, 09:04 PM
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"Of course, anything to be of assistance, and I shall summon my healer, she is expert in treating wounds" Fremen said to the man. Together the two men carefully lifted the injured man towards the healing rooms. It was then Fremen realized the injured man whom he had mistaken for a Deadlander was infact a Skyclaw He wrinkled his nose in distaste as the smell of wounds brought back unpleasent memories. Fremen may have been a seasoned warrior but that didnt mean he was old, he was still only twenty five years of age and so he felt little when he bent to lift the barely consious man towards the healing room.
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  #27  
Old 04-23-2010, 06:02 PM
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“Rain, rain, ohhh, CONSTANT rain…go away!…” The young man spoke aloud in an off-key melody, his head tilted upward and thin arms raised to the ceiling of the stitched leather canopy which covered the large junk wagon parked in a narrow alley next to the Dragon Tavern.

“…come again some other day!..”

The tall, thin, young man lowered his head, the unusually multi-colored strands of long, unkempt, wild hair bounced around covering half of his thin, light-skinned face. He grabbed onto the collar of the dark purple waistcoat which fit perfectly against his slim physique, and did his best to smooth out the wrinkles with his bony, black nailed, fingers.

”..ESPECIALLY when I am NOT wearing my best threads!” He exclaimed, letting out a sigh of annoyance as he walked to the front of the covered wagon.

“What I wouldn’t give for my-…” The young man suddenly stumbled to the ground, tripping on an nondescript metal contraption laying about the floor, along piles of more junk. The entire wagon shook, and metal hanging do-dads and thing-a-mah-jiggies clashed and clanged from the disturbance. The young man looked up and around from the floor, hoping no one caught a glimpse of the sudden blunder, but then he quickly realized he was the only one in the wagon, as it was, very much his wagon.

“Ouch…” he mumbled. “When will that useless excuse for a sister come clean this place? I mean, I did, more or less, promise her a small, somewhat insignificant, bit of coin for her work…yes? Of course…”

The young man’s eyes widened, as he brushed the strands of dry, wispy hair out of his face and looked up at what he had hoped to find before suddenly tumbling to the dusty floor.

“Ahh, THERE you are you beautiful construct of my highly GENIUS imagination!” He said with a wide grin across his face, uncovering somewhat whitened, yet slightly crooked teeth.

The tall, wiry young man stood to his feet, brushed off the dirt and dust that covered the knees on his dark-gray leather pants and coat sleeves. He quickly ran his fingers through his shoulder length, wickedly colorful, unusually wild mane, and then grabbed the meter-long item propped up against a huge pile of junk.

“This should keep those pesky rain drops from interfering with my absolute stylistic yet clever apparel!”.

Before pushing away the leather covering, acting as the front entry to the wagon, the young man stopped and peered into the crude, make-shift mirror hanging crooked at eye level.

“Only you understand me Wit…”

His visage seemed grim for a moment, but then a wry grin formed across his face.

“You clever devil!…” He continued with a burst of laughter, which came out rather nasally and high-pitched, as he made his way out of the covered wagon.

Wit held the meter-long object in his hand, and slid his hand up the wooden shaft, causing the center to open up like a series of flower pedals and create a circular covering overhead. He held onto the wooden stick, as the rain poured down onto the top of the covering and ran down along the side, keeping the young man and his clothing dry for the most part.

“Oh how I LOVE you my…portablecovered…stick-thingy. Drat!, I bet Sirenna would be so much better at this naming stuff. Patent-pending, of course...”

He furrowed his brow, as he stepped down from the wagon, strolled several meters across the wet, muddy ally-way, until reaching the back door which lead to the tavern’s kitchen.

Wit clenched his free hand in preparation to knock on the thick oak door, but quickly switched to simply trying the handle.

“Brilliant!...unlocked JUST as I suspected…”

He pressed his ear against the door in hopes of hearing something over the rain before entering. However, without a seconds warning, the door swung open, throwing the unwitting young man off balance and toward the floor of the kitchen. The wooden contraption he held onto moments before tumbled into the mud. A young boy, no more than fifteen, gasped and almost dropped the bag of garbage clenched in his hand as he stared at Wit with a puzzled expression.

“Hiya boy-o!” He said with a grin, as he pushed himself to his feet, and continued without missing a beat.

“You, uh, didn’t happen to come across a young girl, blondish hair, kinda sounds like a howler bat when she laughs?” Wit smirked as he raised an eyebrow.

“Howler bat?” The boy asked, scratching his head.

“Oooh yeah! I’ll have to tell the story behind that sometime but…” He leaned in closer to the boy, who seemed to be antsy, shifting his attention to the rain outside and back to Wit.

“Hey…you okay kid? You aren’t drinking the local Dragon’s Breath, are you?...” He whispered to the boy, all the while trying to keep his composure.

“Uh…sir, I just need to throw this stinky trash out…” The boy said, biting his lip out of nervousness.

Wit stood back up straight, an expression of bewilderment flashed on his face. “Oook, fine, hey what-EVER kid. It's all about you I see. I’ll find her myself…”

The boy stepped out into the rain. “Freak…” He mumbled under his breath.

Wit turned on one heel to face the main kitchen, and kicked his other leg out, causing the back door to swing shut.

“Oops!...”
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  #28  
Old 04-23-2010, 11:00 PM
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With the soldier's assistance, the injured man was carried into the healing room. Though, most of the work was performed by the soldier, with the man in the singed clothes merely taking care that the wounds were not exacerbated by the transfer. Once the wounded man was safely in a bed, he retreated to the furthest end of the healing room.

Removing his breathing mask, he spoke to the soldier. "Thank you for your assistance." Extending his hand, he introduced himself. "I am Asterrakor Novare, Engineer, Second Grade. Most call me Ast."
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  #29  
Old 04-24-2010, 12:22 AM
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"Pleased to meet you Asterrakor" Fremen said. "My name is Captain Fremen Talla, of the Skyclaw Alliance, though could you please just call me Fremen." Fremen seized the offered hand gratefully and led the healer towards the common room. "Do you drink Horsetail Cider, by any chance?" Fremen asked the man as they walked into the common room
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  #30  
Old 04-30-2010, 05:55 PM
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Ast stumbled as the soldier... No, names, I must remember people have names. Ast stumbled as Fremen nearly dislocated his shoulder pulling him back into the common room. "Hm? A drink? No, no, I never touch the stuff myself. One in my line of work needs keep their head clear. I cannot count the number of times I have escaped grievous injury by mere moments." He stopped talking, frowning briefly.

"Well, that is not entirely accurate. Including today it would be one hundred and thirty-eight. One hundred and thirty-nine if you count the instance wherein a temporal resonator nearly overloaded. While it would not have caused injury, per se, it would have trapped me in a temporal sub-continuum... Right, no, not relevant to the point I was making. What was that again?" He paused to review the conversation in his mind. "Ah, yes, fermented beverages." he began again. "No, not generally a good idea for me. Thank you for the offer, though."

Ast looked back over his shoulder at the healing room. "That man, will he recover, do you think? His wounds seemed far too infected for survival. I am quite amazed that he was ever ambulatory in such a state." he remarked.
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