Garl shrugs. "Not knowing the game paths around here, I am likely to have more trouble picking my prey and might end up with a brace of rabbits instead. But I doubt the difference would prove difficult for you." He looks towards their immediate destination. "Getting us to actually cross that gate, though, seems harder than expected." And grins broadly, kicking his mount to get her moving just a bit faster.
Talia, taking Navarre's suggestion to action, steps out and heads down the Tear Road into south bridge.
Where Far madding has structure, order, management to its city's development, South Bridge is the opposite. As you descend the hill, you gaze upon South Bridge and it's community planning looks as if a toddler picked up some mud, threw it at the wall, drew some lines on it, only to have the mud begin to slide down and slowly stop. Such are the roads and alleys within South Bridge.
yet into this warren of hodge-podge the woman leads. She guides to a certain road, takes a right. then a short pause at an alley and a is this the- Yes!" statement as she avoids the fowl smelling piles left in the gutter. it's enough to make anyone lose their way yet finally she arrives at a crooked leaning tavern.
at least, you think it to be a tavern.
there is no sign hanging upon a bracket. no painting upon a wall. nothing of remark to indicate that this is indeed a tavern, aside from Talia's statement of here we are. the Named tavern. She looks at everyone and smirks slightly. The first owner liked his oxy-morons.
She slips off of her horse and ties the reins off onto a large iron ring secured to a stout wooden frame.
She confidently walks into the building, not waiting for anyone.
As Talia enters the buidling, behind Shimy her Warder, she calls out, "Shree are you still here?" She looks around for Shrei and her kids Stayn and Falrei, it would be good to see them again. The time she spent here while sad was also happy, she still felt the loss of the little one but even a healer lost a patient now and again and she had lost more than she cared to count. As such she did her best to focus on the successes as saving a life was, to her, a very important aspect of what she was trying to do. As it only took one life, to change many things for the better.
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there is no sign hanging upon a bracket. no painting upon a wall. nothing of remark to indicate that this is indeed a tavern, aside from Talia's statement of here we are. the Named tavern. She looks at everyone and smirks slightly. The first owner liked his oxy-morons.
She slips off of her horse and ties the reins off onto a large iron ring secured to a stout wooden frame.
She confidently walks into...
Raising an eyebrow as Talia takes point, Navarre shrugs, clicking his tongue at the black gelding. Smiling to himself 'She's Aes Sedai, why would I be suprised that she expects to be followed?' As they wind through the muddy streets, Navarre makes a mental note of how their going so that, if it comes to it, he can find his own way back out. As the streets narrow he falls back to the middle of the pack, fairly confident that Talia's warden could protect her. Chuckling when Talia anounces the name of the tavern, and the owners sense of humor. He looked at the front of the building, noting the buildings on the side.
Realizing the Aes Sedai and her warder had dismounted, Navarre looked towards the other Women to see what they were doing. Remembering stories of Aes Sedai expecting to be obeyed and other stories of what happened when one interfered in their business, Navarre wasn't sure if he was supposed to follow or not.
Turning to Lazar he told the Domani, "I'll check around back, I like to know if there's a way to get out of a place before I go in." He winks at the friendly nobleman, "don't leave without me."
Turning the big gelding towards the corner of the building he begins to casually head around the back, keeping a keen eye out.
Lazar nods to Navarre while then turning and nodding to Ceirn. He Hopes the Aiel would move with the Borderlander and inspect the place. It was a sound idea to observe the place. See all entrances and exits as well as other observances.
" Such an interesting place? I wonder what cuisine the proprietor cooks? Maybe it is one I can add to my repertoire?": Lazar says staying back enough to let the sister handle it, as she seemed familiar with this place
"Looking at the place, I wouldn't expect anything fancy. Not even sure I would expect something as nice as the weekly family dinner. Probably over-cooked stews in stale trenchers bought second-hand from a better place." He shrugs. "But if this is where we're stopping, I think Navarre has the right idea."
He nudges Rosie into following the black mount.
"You can be surprised Garl, often places like these have some of the best recipes. Often rough, but definitely can be elevated!"
"This has character! I see a lot of potential flavors in this place. Let us hope my nose, Knows!"The Domani noble said with a smile, adjusting his hate and taking time to inhale through his nose.
Jak sends his thanks and asks if the odd scent was what pursued the man, or if it accompanied him. Did he ride with the wind (North), or against it?
Jak shakes his head bemusedly at the banter and dismounts, tying his horse near to Talia's. He remains outside watching the street while waiting for the other men to return from their circuit around back before going inside.
One second! Hold a flaming moment! a man yells from behind a wall as Talia hollers for Shrei.
More shouts come louder as footsteps stump closer to the wall. Part of the wall, no more than two feet in width and height, slides to the left. just below the opening, set into the wall is a narrow shelf with iron brackets to hold it upright.
eh? who's goat kissing- the man cuts off upon seeing Talia.
Talia! Well! arent you a sight for sore eyes! hold on one moment! Ill stump to ya! the man snaps out.
the panel slides shut and the foot steps hurry on as you all shift about making room for the others.
the room itself is short, no more than six feet in height, although some of the larger support beams cut that height down to five, forcing all to duck. haphazard tables are set upon a gravel floor, forcing slight grinds and crunches to sound as you move about. Wall lamps, burning narrow wicks of whale oil burn brightly, casting back most of the shadows in the short confines.
another door further down opens up, and man walks with a severe limp in sight. you take him in from head to toe, and then do a double take. The man has only one foot. the other ends with a peg leg.
Ceirn drifts along behind the others and keeps an eye out for any who might be following them.
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another door further down opens up, and man walks with a severe limp in sight. you take him in from head to toe, and then do a double take. The man has only one foot. the other ends with a peg leg.
Tenora stows her serpent ring before entering the city and ties up her horse nearby. She follows the others.
"Greeting good sir."
As the two move around to the side of the building, and start up the alleyway, Garl is momentarily distracted by the larger man hunching over in his saddle, working not to hit the eaves of the building despite the combined height of his tall frame and large warhorse.
Both being smaller and on a smaller horse, Garl has little trouble, only needing to bend his neck to avoid the contact Navarre is so much more at risk of making.
The thing is, none of the four on this little trip find it appealing. chamber pots have been emptied into this alleyway, both recently and not. The space is tight, close to the sides of the warhorse, constraining it and causing it to be a little skittish, though Two-Fingers keeps it under control.
As they reach the first corner, a lone, poor refugee appears out from under a blanket on the higher, dry spot of this corner, and skitters down the alley behind the building, obviously looking not to get walked on by the animals. Sadly, there's no way to continue forward that doesn't involve trampling the blanket and whatever possessions might be hidden underneath. Still the men continue, the horses moving along slowly.
Other than more filth and the blank walls, the two find nothing of concern or interest as they circle around the building, returning to the front where the others had been waiting.
"Mychel what happened the last I saw you, you had two good legs and what of your sister Shrei, she is not harmed I hope?" There was concern in Talia's voice she had enjoyed her time here and considered them part of her extended family. "And what of Stayn and Falrei? By the Wheel, do tell me they are still healthy."
he smirks a wry smirk while lifting his hands up and making a placating gesuture with them.
Shhhh shhh. It's ok Talia. It's ok. I-aha- i was a little drunk. A bit too much ale and wine went down the gullet that day. People say i stumbled out in front of a mule train hauling Salt from the mines to the south. Wagonmaster never saw me trip. Wagon rolled over my leg at the knee. First wheel destroyed it, second one finished the removal process. Local healer, she could only just saw off the remnant so it was fresh and the healed me best she could. She doesnt have your talent. He shifts onto the stump, and grimaces. Thing still isnt 100% healed up though... He grimaces a again, and shakes his head. But its the price i pay for my own stupidity. Been what, eight months since ive had wine. Oh! yes! Shrei and the others! Well! Stayn and Falrei are both out working now. Stayn down by the docks to help fishermen with loads and mending nets. Falrei is either at one of the seamstress shops in Far, or she's off lugging brews at another tavern. As for Shrei, she was- he lifts his gaze up high, his hands now on his chest, spread wide as he wipes them on his stained shirt. She said something about checking on a friend. hasnt been here for the last couple weeks or some such thing. I dont remember because i didnt hear correctly. I was attempting to make some strange aiel dish i had heard about, dont remember the name he looks down and notices the glares coming from everyone.
Oh! right! yes!. Shrei! She's checking on a friend. I dont know where. Far i think. Falrei might know. she spends more time with her mum talking that women stuff.
The man's gaze snaps to the door as both Navarre and Garl both come walking in. Greetings sirs. Im Mychel. Once im done with the Lady and her group here i shall attend to you most quickly. He adds with a slight bow.
"Sorry to hear it took that much to curb your drinking but the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. So..." she is interrupted when Navarre and Garl enter. After Mychel makes his statement she says, "They are fellow travelers Mychel, that is Navarre," she points to Navarre, and that is Garl." she then points to Garl, "and there are a few more still outside."
Her voice then becomes stern and the tone is such the Mychel knows she will brook no arguement, "Now back to the things at hand, sit down so I can look at your knee," then just as quickly it shifts back to a more casual tone as she begins to prepare herself, "and will Falrei be back latter today?"
Once she could get to Mychel's knee, she inspected the prevous healers work as well as the current condition of the knee. The fact that he said it had not fully healed and it had been eight months had her a bit concerned. She is hoping it is mostly just the ghost pains that come with such traumatic damage and-or an ill-fitting substitute for the missing leg.
Squeezing the Gelding through the narrow space between buildings, his boots rubbing against the tavern wall while he ducked under the drooping eaves, Navarre, hearing another, turned back to see the Midlander woodsman following him. Nodding to Garl, Navarre turned his attention to the skittish black, whispering "Shhhhhh Caba'dhai nothing here to offend other than the smell." The narrow space did smell, but Navarre realized that his horse must have smelled the man under the blanket, as the man bolted out from under the eaves on the corner and skittered down the alley.
Shaking his head, this place was so different than Canluum, or any other city he'd been to in the north. When he was little he assumed all towns and cities would be make of stone or brick. Something that wouldn't light fire during a Trolloc raid. He'd heard that buildings were sometimes made of wood. When he started to travel with the caravans he actually saw wooden buildings. But not like this. He'd stayed on main roads, and in business districts, he'd not wandered into the slums.
He watched where the 'refugee' had ran. They didn't have people who lived 'on the streets' in the north. No matter how rich or poor, family took care of each other, No one slept in the streets. It wasn't safe due to raids. If the watch did find someone 'sleeping one off' or a 'vagrant' they took them to the tower and found something for them to do. Fortunately, Canluum always needed more miners so finding work wasn't a problem.
Having rounded the corner of the building and finding no other exit, Navarre turned, looking back at Garl, asking. "What would they do if there were a fire in the front of the building?" Shaking his head he rode on, wrapping his way back around to the front of the oddly named establishment.
Dismounting his horse he tied it's reins to the same hitching post as the Aes Sedai's. Leaning into the horses ear, "Stay, I'll try to find some sugar or an apple or carrot." Smiling to himself, he knew the geldings preference was in that order, hopefully he'd be able to purchase something to bring back out. Realizing Garl was right behind him, he held the door open and followed his associate, ducking his head while walking into the dark room.
Almost thumping his head on a support beam, Navarre realizes the man with a peg leg is speaking to him; almost as quickly as Talia Sedai pointed out they were with her. Nodding to the man who called himself Mychel, almost hitting his head again just by the action. Wanting to find a seat before he brained himself again, Navarre waited a moment to let his eyes adjust to the light from the lanterns. Hunkering down to almost a crawl, he heads towards a table near the wall. Moving towards the seat nearest the wall he turns, shifting his scabbard so not to impede his legs, and sits down. Looking up at Garl he gestures towards the nearest seat.
His gaze shifting to Talia Sedai, then Tenora Sedai, he wondered what it really was that they were doing here. He'd noticed that Tenora had taken off her 'serpent ring' when they neared town. And he knew Talia hardly ever wore hers, since he'd never seen it on her hand. He'd heard that the Aes Sedai traveled incognito, and Talia's warder being a woman even made her 'occupation' less obvious. But what are they doing here?
He was surprised when two Aes Sedai joined the 'Hunters of the Horn.' He figured they had some ulterior motive; because it was said that's what Aes Sedai do. It was said to be like breathing to them. But then when a 'third one' joined them? and she remained 'incognito' the whole time? The other Aes Sedai seeming to defer to Talia Sedai's leadership?
Shaking his head, Navarre wondered what he'd gotten himself into. He watched as Talia Sedai continued her questions as she 'ministered' to the man's injured leg. Smiling slightly, he remembered the Aes Sedai weren't supposed to be able to lie. Talia had said she was a healer, and she certainly had seemed concerned about this man and his family. No matter what other reason they were here, that seemed to be true.
Hearing the man, Mychel talk about the food Lazar steps forward."Why Master Mychel, you are a chef! Why I myself am one as well. This Aeil dish tell me would you like a hand? I am always willing to learn new and interesting dishes with new and exciting flavors and ingredients! Once Lady Talia looks at the leg, I would love to aid you in your quest!" Lazar exclaims with passion. In fact, Aeil food would be something that he knew would add to his repertoire!
The young hunter shrugs. "Wrap themselves in wet blankets and run for it? Try to break through a wall? Maybe they have a way out through the roof? None of these sound especially appealing options to me, though. Maybe they have tunnels?" Garl doesn't sound like he thinks it likely.
As they return to the front, Garl ties Rosie up as well, before taking the open door. "Thank you." He says reflexively as he passes Navarre and gets inside.
The conversation covers some choices not considered proper back home and Garl tries to ignore that. The bit about the loss of the leg, though, is far too familiar. Stupidity has cost more than a leg before.
Garl quietly takes the indicated seat, finding himself wondering more about the fire question, now that he is inside the building himself.
Seeing that the animals were all secured, Jak followed the others inside. After taking in the scene silently takes a seat at one of the tables where he can both watch the door and listen to the conversation. Obviously, Talia knew the establishment and its proprietors, so he merely waited for them to finish catching up. Aiel food, eh? That would be interesting I suppose. I wonder what they eat out there? Lizards perhaps?
Mychel nods at Talia's instructions and takes a seat. he lifts up his pants leg, revealing the wooden stump and socket thats strapped to his thigh. he releases the catch on the belt and loosens the false leg free. He sighs as the pressure is released and rubs the muscles. always feels nice when i take that thing off.
Everyone can clearly see the green ooze as it flows out from the end of his stump as the salve cap falls to the floor, smacking the wood floor wetly. The end, where the leg was cut off, is a savage knot of scar tissue and inflamed sores. Where there was excess skin, it was stitched together with a heavy thread. And wehre there wasnt, harsh burns indicate use of a hot iron to stem and scab the blood flow. You stare at it, and then the smells hits you. the smell of decay and infection. it stings your eyes, fills your nose, and clings to the back of your throat.
Well, I suppose the salves werent really working much anymore. I dont know mychel says softly as he wafts his hand, attempting to clear the air.
oh hooo! a cook huh? No no, not a chef. no one that fancy from one Tear or Caemlyn in these parts. Just a cook. Most of my food is ok, with the rare "oo" from a visitor. But, if youre willing to help... I was just about to cut some carrots, celery, onions. If you could help chop them up, id appreciate it. Once Talia has me right as rain, as she always does he smiles at Talia I'll be able to join you.
She looks at the atrocity that was what remained of Mychel's leg and saw what she had feared might be the case speed was now of an essence but one cannot worry the patient if one wants them to heal quickly as mood affected healing as well. "Well Mychel I got some good knews for you, you are going to be getting a well deserved rest and since we have a chef present we will let him do the cooking for today," she looks over to Lazar, "you would be okay with that Lazar would you not?" She mouths the word please and tries to indicate with her expression the urgency of her request.
She then has Rimy get a metal bucket or large clay crock to heat some water up in and mix in the proper amount of salt. "I hope you are not overly attached to these pants Mychel," she says as she pulls out a knife and begins cutting it off at about mid-thigh. "First we need to get this thing thorougly cleaned which we will begin by having you soak it in some heated salt water. For several hours, then we will see what next steps we will need to take."
Seeing the horrible state of the stump, Garl frowns. "That is a good start, the salt water soak, but we shouldn't wait hours. Give it around a half hour, maybe an hour, and then we need to try to drain the wound to better evaluate what's salvageable. His leg is worse than Tara's arm after the wolves took it, but I have some direct experience with a wound in similar condition. We'll need my tools, and a good brush, to help him as best we can."
"No trust me Master Mychel, every cook is just a hairs breath from being a chef. Trust me" Lazar says as he gets close but lets Talia do her work.
"I can chop with the best of them in fact," Lazar produces in a flourish two of his handcrafted chef knives.
When Talia speaks Lazar nods." I know what you are going to say Mychel. It's your kitchen. I too would worry about placing it in the hands of another. However, if the Good Lady says you need to soak then you can soak. As for your kitchen if you are worried I am sure you can soak in the kitchen and direct me and your undercooks. If Lady Talia allows it" Lazar looks to the Aes Sedai, hoping she understands the pride this many probably has for his craft.
Jak catches a whiff of the smell and frowns. It was, unfortunately, an odor he had smelled before while on campaign. Standing and leaning against the table, he peers over at the man's stump and winces inwardly. I hope he's not overly attached to the stump. Going to be lucky if he doesn't lose more of that leg.
Wracking his brain for what the surgeons had used medicine wise, he looks over at Talia and Garl, who seemed to know a thing or two and says, "Anything I can do to help? I'm no healer, but I've applied a bandage or two."
"He's going to want something to help him not feel the cleaning he's going to get. Something to help him feel as little as possible, really."
Chuckling at Garl's comment about wet blankets, Navarre resisted the urge to ask where they'd get the water or the blankets at. But Garl was probably right. They probably had some kind of exit that the family and workers new about. It certainly didn't speak well for he neighborhood that they had stopped in.
Nodding as the woodsman thanked him, Navarre decided he liked Garl, the man was polite. He'd heard good things about the 'Two Rivers' folk, salt of the earth, hard working honest people apparently he could add polite to the list. It didn't cost anything to be polite, so it confused Navarre when people didn't bother.
It wasn't the sight of the wound that began to bother Navarre, he could turn away from it. But the smell. The sickly sweet rot of old meat, mixed with the smell of human death. There was nothing else like it. The wagon he'd hid in had began to smell similarly when he left it. It was one of the few things that made Navarre's stomach churn. True to her word Talia began to minister to the cripples leg. Blinking, but keeping a straight face, when she actually volunteered Lazar to cook for the man, Navarre raised an eyebrow when Lazar seemed happy to help. 'Why am I surprised? What was he supposed to say. 'No miss Aes Sedai ma'am I'm not going to do what you want, I'd rather take a lashing from your magic.' Normally when Navarre would let his mind wander, he'd feel better about the situation, but the smell of the rotting human flesh was starting to get to him. 'I have to get out of here.' Realizing that Garl had started to help Talia with the cripples wound, Navarre nodded approvingly, 'He really is a good apple.'
Having made up his mind, Navarre stood, hearing there were carrots in the kitchen he started to make his way to the back area where he assumed the kitchen to be. Stepping that way he called back. "Hi, I'd like to, um, could I trouble anyone for a carrot for my horse? I've got a few coins." He pauses listening for an answer, not wanting to barge in on anyone.
"No sadly Garl the pain will be good for him as it will help remind him that he is still alive and perhaps it will help to curb future foolish behavior. For healing is no good if it just heals the body but ignores the mind." She looks sternly at Mychel and asks in a stern instuctional tone, "You do understand its necessity, do you not Mychel?"
It is not that Talia took pleasure in this, because truth be told she would much rather just cure it with a bit of magic, but this had proven to be counter productive as folk never seemed to learn to be cautious when healing was easy and painless. In fact, they often soon ended up injured again or worse. So in order to help fully heal a patient, she had learned that letting them feel the pain and go through the hardship often helped to keep them from being prone to getting injured again. So it ended up being a two fold process, healing the mind with pain while also healing the body from its injury.
Garl glares at this demanding woman. "Yeah, because losing his leg isn't reminder enough. This problem is more likely caused by not having good care than by being careless. Pain won't teach that away. Compassion can fix it, though." He turns to the man and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I choose compassion. People raised right do that all the time."
The look on Garl's face suggests he's not thinking about all the stories of what Aes Sedi can do to a man. Given the words, it is more likely he's failing to understand how anyone who calls themself a healer can be so cruel and callous.
Talia bristles at Garl's contradiction, partially because she would rather be compassionate and partially because she has actually grown slightly accustomed to the 'No one stands up to an Aes Sedai' attitude of most folks.
She initially glares at Garl but then takes a breath and lets the ire pass. She then says calmly but rather condemningly, "Garl are you saying you wish to force your ideals upon this man and myself and thus are demanding to be the one that heals him of his current situation? Or... can you, whether you agree with my methods or not, step back, be quiet, and let me do what I know how to do?"
Truth be told this was not the first time she had encountered someone who meant well but simply did not have the experience she had acquired in healing. Pain was a good teacher but it was also instructional as it helped her determine what was living and what was not as well as where possible complications might reside. She could also reduce the amount of pain should she feel that it jeapordizes the patience's life but she did not feel she needed to answer to someone who was not a healer themselves. Her stance was much like the stance she took when she left the White Tower. How can you say you are helping someone when you have no idea what will best help them because you do not know them.
"Are you saying I don't know what I'm doing? Based on what? Or am I supposed to let you force your morality on both the injured and everyone else in the room? You are planning to cause unnecessary pain and are telling me I'm the one who has the wrong idea what healing is?"
"Look you Two, bickering doesn't help Master Mychel. So, unless you want me to wrap both of you in the head with my staff, you will cease this so we can move forward." The Domani man said. It was in this moment the gravity of his age was used. A man who had seen about 30 or so winters had shifted his blades in one hand with the other hand resting on the shaft of his quarterstaff. It was subtle, but his eyes and manner spoke of an urge for the two continue for a chance to put his threat to fruition.
" Are we good? I ask because generally with new kitchens and potentially new recipes I require a chef to help guide me, and being as its Master Mychel here having him capable or calling out orders will greatly help, him, me and his livelyhood to continue alright!" The man said returning to his more jovial tone, but it still had a bit of hardness to it.
Lazar could and would fulfill his threat should he need it. Aes Sedai or not he would thump her good if she didn't quit. As for the warmer, well he had fought warders before and lived he would do it again.
"Lazar is right. You both mean to help the man. Fighting over it will not aid him." Ceirn says as he looks around feeling out of place in this town and not enjoying the attention such an argument might bring upon them.
Talia looks at the others with the fire still smoldering in her eyes and firmly stands here righteous ground. "You are greatly mistaken Garl, I am not forcing my morality upon anyone as Mychel here," she gestures to Mychel, "has willingly submitted to being healed by me and you," she points at Garl, "are free to leave," she somewhat dramatically points to the door they came in through while emphasizing the word 'leave'.
Then Lazar and Ceirn chime in before Garl responds to her directive to leave and so she replies, "To be clear Lazar and Ceirn I am neither bickering nor fighting. I am, in fact, simply attempting to provide clarity here. I am a Healer and Garl here wants to tell me how to do what I have been studying and doing for years as if he was a healer himself. Further I know Mychel much better than Garl does and as such I know what is and is not good for him. Further I do not tell Garl or any of you how to swing your sword... or knife," she glances and gestures to Lazar, "as that is not what I know and it would be thus foolhardy for me to do such a thing. As such, I do not expect one of you telling me how best to heal as that is not what you do. So talk to our comrade here," she dismissively gestures towards Garl, "and you explain to him why his ill placed advice on how to heal Mychel is not needed, not appreciated, and doing more harm than good."
Mychel's mouth hangs open as he watches Garl and Talia bicker over proper healing procedures. He motions to lazar to step closer. Lazar obliges and kneels by the one legged cook.
If youre a traveler with the Lady Talia, that is good enough confirmation with me. Feel free to chop.
"No sadly Garl the pain will be good for him...[/b] Talias stern voice causes mychel to glance back at her and listen for the moment.
Ah..well..
Garl cuts him off, speaking over the sitting man.
Mychel turns back to Lazar. Look. it sounds like a basic chicken soup recipe. Carrots, onions, celery. Theres a large pot of yesterday's chicken bits simmering. Chop the veggies, pull the chicken, strip from the bones. oh, what am i saying. you said you know how to cook, so why am i explaining chicken soup. Go nuts. Feel free.
Mychel hears Navarre's shout from the kitchen. Sir! there's no one back-
The man's eyes roll to the back of his head. He goes limp and slumps backwards, his weight shifting oddly, forcing his body to roll off the chair.
OH NO! Lazar shouts in surprise, flummoxed at the sight of the man feinting.
Mychel falls to the floor. The fall forces his putrid stump to smack hard into the stone floor and the scabbing breaks open. Yellow puss and discolored gray discharge and other bits pop out, tainted red with old blood.
"LIGHT! Garl and Jak grab Mychel, Follow Talia's Direction. Tenora aid Talia, Ceirn get Navarre. I'm gonna go make soup and make sure this man's family and establishment can continue on!" The Domani says as he strides into the kitchen and grabs a rag to wipe whatever he can off, rinse his hands, and with him gingerly take off his coat grabs some blades, and gets to work.
Jak was still nearby listening with consternation at the unhelpful bickering between the two supposed 'healers.' I'd probably faint too if I heard the two of them having a pissing contest over my leg. This feinting isn't a good sign though, even I know that...How long has he been this way?
The stench of putrid flesh was almost overpowering as he stooped down to grab the man under the armpits and, when someone had the other end (or he would scoop him up if the other man is small enough). "Table or bed?" he demands curtly, and then begins moving Mychel to whichever is indicated.
Garl ignores everyone's instructions. "Table," he states simply as he goes to his saddle bags and retrieves the tools he mentioned earlier. A healer's kit.
As he moves over to Mychel, the only attention he gives to Talia is to make a point of showing off his tools and commenting "You were right. Let the healer do his work."
Before opening the bag, Garl starts with simple observation. No ongoing seizure observed (based on the description), breathing, he peels back an eyelid to see if the eye is relaxed or something else, and takes this first direct contact as a chance to evaluate the man's body temperature as reasonably normal, or off (high or low).
Talia is surprised when Mychel keels over as he had not appeared to be in that bad of shape just a moment ago. She kneels down next to him and begins to check his vitals and any other aspects about him that would reveal why he was now unconscious.
When Garl says table she glances at that table and does not feel it will be sturdy enough for the man and says "No the floor is better but we do need to move him."
When Garl returns she has already isolated the leg from its initial discharge by moving the body and getting a cloth under the leg.
"You are a healer, interesting and yes we will work on this man together then as Mychel is not only still my patient but he is also my friend. I would not allow just anyone to work on him. Let us see if your skills are as impressive as your tools and I hope you do not mind working on the floor."
She gives Garl a moment to observe the body then asks, "Do you see any reason for why he suddenly passed out?"
"I was checking to see if there was any sign of something more urgent than his leg. THAT can lead to many complications."
Garl gags slightly as he grabs the cloth that remains over the stump and rips it open, exposing as much of the leg as he can. He runs his hand along the upper portions of the stump, checking for an obvious top to the infection, whether it is an edge of swelling, or worse, discolored veins running back up into the body.
"Good. Looks like it is still just in the leg. Do we have a bowl, or towels, or something? Not really waiting for the answer, though he does point at the end of the stump as he asks the question, Garl pulls out one of the sharp blades from the kit, holds his breath, and slices the end of the wound open, watching the drainage. He starts to gag again, anyway.
He leans back and tries to get a breath of air not QUITE as full of the stench, but has to continue breathing that stench for now. "Give it a little for that new drainage to slow, and then let's see how badly the muscles have been eaten away. This could cost him the rest of the leg."
'No kitchen help, but there are the carrots.' Hearing the man saying something about 'no one' Navarre reaches in and grabs a couple of carrots. Hearing Lazar shout 'no' then a loud thump, like someone dropping a sack of potatoes on a thin wooden floor. Navarre Turns in time to see the man had feinted. Frowning as it seemed the man had first landed on his 'stump' and was now on his back, yellow discharge mixed with blood pouring from the festering wound. 'Well that can't be good.....ugh the smell.'
Ceirn get Navarre?' Confused as Lazar storms towards him, passing as he heads into the kitchen, Navarre raises an eyebrow. 'Leave it to a nobleman to boss folks around and then leave.' He smiles to himself. 'At least he's headed to the kitchen to make food, you don't see that out of nobles too often.' Moving across the room he watches as Jak responds t Lazar, hooking the unconscious mans arms as Garl tells him 'table' while the woodsman moves apparently for some tools.
As Talia disagrees again, Navarre rolls his eyes, 'Oh brother.' While the Aes Sedai and Midlander argue about where and how to treat the unconscious man, Navarre heads toward the door. 'I like Garl a lot, but it just isn't smart to argue with Aes Sedai. I hope the other two don't gang up on him. But if the 'one power' starts to fly I don't want to be anywhere nearby.' Keeping his head down and his eyes to himself, Navarre weaves his way past the others and opening the door steps outside.
Stepping out into the dreary, muddy path of a road, Navarre glad to be out of the Inn away from the smell and the bickering, walks up to his horse. Pulling out the carrot, he holds it in his open palm. "Sorry boy, just carrots, but it's better than nothing." Smiling, "and it's a lot more peaceful with you out here."
Ceirn frowned at Lazar and wondered why the Domani had apparently decided to try and rule over others. But as he had nothing really to offer in aiding the man Ceirn heads out of the inn to see what was around.
As he leaves he sees Navarre feeding his horse and wanders over to him. "It seems like the Wetlanders do not believe in peaceful places to care for the injured. Have you noticed anything of interest out here?" Ceirn asks the other man.
"I'm not happy he's bad enough that he passed out, but him being out does make this simpler." While the drainage is still flowing, Garl turns to those still inside. Anybody have something flat, like a rock or coin, at least as big as my thumb, but no bigger than the pad of the thumb on the hand? Before I do this next bit, we're going to want to slow the flow of blood into the leg. I need the flat item pressed HARD into this inside of his thigh, HERE, and the pressure has to stay in place for quite a while as I work. I'm going to have to roll the flesh off the leg and try to clean out the inside of the wound. This is going to get even messier than it has been.[/b]"
Hearing the door behind him open Navarre turns and watches Ciern head his direction. 'If the hinges hadn't been rusty, I'd have never heard him approach, it's almost spooky.'
He smiles at Ceirn's comment about 'peaceful places for the injured.' Most of the towns he'd been through had doctors or 'Wisdoms' who took care of the sick or injured. He'd even seen places where Aes Sedai in yellow dresses cared for folks. He figured the inn wasn't the problem, they probably had a clean quite bed somewhere upstairs where this Mychel would be able to rest, If Talia and Garl could agree long enough to get the man in it.
Shaking his head, not wanting to comment on his traveling companions especially with three of the four women being Aes Sedai, he focused on the second question. "No, unless you consider poor construction something of interest." He gestures towards the wooden construction. He'd thought it was a single-story building with its low eaves and few windows. But considering how low the ceiling was in the front room, he realized it might actually be two stories. Turning back towards the Aiel, he asked. "Is it true your people are nomads who live in tents?"
Mychel breaks out into a sudden, heavy sweat, his breath becomes labored, and his skin suddenly flares up, warm to the touch.Each breath in and out is a heavy, slow and restricted experience. It seems to take the man far far longer than it should for him to take a proper breath.
Garl feels the man's fever, hears the labor involved in breathing, and looks deeper. Opening the man's shirt, he is immediately aware of the dark veins and what they normally mean. He leans back on his feet and looks at the Aes Sedai.
"Blood poisoning spreading from his heart is beyond normal healing. We have to stop it before it reaches anything that important. Too late for my skill to help. If you can use the One Power to heal him, that's the only chance he has. I'm going to guess the infection spread to his heart a few days ago . . .."
Talia nods in agreement with Garl. While she did not like to use her gift where others could see, those that could see were all aware she was a Weaver and assumed she was an Aes Sedai, which in her mind she was but politically was not. Still at least they were outside Far Madding and as such outside their field of concern and regular detection so it should draw too much, if any, attention.