Closed Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Rhov's injury needs treatment, and Devi is the only doctor stubborn enough to put a needle through him.

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role play forum. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Rhov on April 9th, 2015, 5:17 pm

12th of Spring, 515 A.V.

Forearm throbbing with incessant pain, Rhov grimaced as he shoved open the in door with his uninjured hand. The cage fight he had engaged in last night at The Spinning Coin had turned out more brutal than he initially imagined, and his body now showed the signs of wear. Ring-like bruises encircled the whole of Rhov's neck, a discolored purple blaring bright against bronzed skin. His back faring no better, the worn and tired muscled screamed in agony with every step he took. Worse of all was the curved, inches deep cut he had received from his opponent. An opponent wielding his own blade, no less. Rhov had a greater appreciation for the criminals he hunted who shrugged off his Angle-Knife's lacerating slashes with ease, for his own wound flared with a new wave of pain each time the last had receded. Undoubtedly, cage matches were not good for the young bounty hunter's health, and he would endeavor to avoid ever entering one again.

As of now, his injury was roughly bound in some spare linen that the innkeeper had been kind enough to gift to Rhov. A searing flash of annoyance split through Rhov's already fractured focus, his natural Chaktawean senses overloaded from the constant crowd in Syliras. It seemed Rhov had expended all of his luck in last night's fight, as Eywaat was appeared determined to punish one of his chosen people for not listening to the sage advice of his Guardian.

Oh, right. On top of the constant pain, Eria is still pissed at me. Day just keeps getting better.

Thankfully, Rhov's had encountered a bit of luck before his excursion deeper into the city . The innkeeper proved generous enough to provide him with the name of a talented and, most importantly, cheap healer within the city. Deviana Blackwood, if his memory served correctly. He was warned about her rather unique beside manner, or lack thereof, but Rhov didn't worry about it. If he could best a 6'3" baral-of-a-man in a caged death match, he thought he could handle at least one caustic doctor.

People going about their day-to-day swarmed pass the slightly bewildered Rhov, the sights and smells of the city still a surprise to the foreign-born desert dweller. It amazed him that so many people could live within the confines of the city with no trouble, none of them longing for the vast wilderness which lay only a stone's throw from their homes. Rhov knew that if he had a choice, he would trade the stone monoliths of Stormhold Castle for the towering trees of the Bronze Woods in a heartbeat. The sweet spring breeze, the tell-tale twitter of birdsong in the air, even the constant underscore of danger which ebbed from the darkest part of the forest. Yes, Rhov irrefutably preferred the wilderness to the so-called 'urban jungle', with its constant influx of people, all chattering noisily about some-such nonsense or other.

They think their way of life best, all too intent on forgetting the simple beauty of the forest. Sylirians.

The constant irritation of people's movement dissipated slightly as Rhov weaved his way into the labyrinthine hallways of the Maiden District. Even though it was one of the most populated districts, Rhov found relief in maneuvering into less crowded halls. Now his pain only a faint buzzing in his fingers, he set out to find the reputed doctor which resided here. After a few chimes of frustrated attempts of gleaning directions from the populace, Rhov finally arrived at Deviana's doorstep.

Knocking, more akin to pounding in actuality, on the door, Rhov spoke with a brusk tone. "Doctor, I need assistance."
User avatar
Rhov
Justice despite consequence
 
Posts: 100
Words: 116309
Joined roleplay: March 15th, 2015, 9:45 pm
Location: Syliras
Race: Chaktawe
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Devi on April 19th, 2015, 7:14 pm

Devi jumped as a thunderous pounding sounded at her door. She sighed, finishing the sentence she had begun in her journal and skimming through the passage to ensure it made sense. She marked the place and stood. As she wandered towards the still vibrating door she picked up her kit with one hand and pulled her Ramie tunic from its hook with the other. She spoke loudly as she opened it.

“You know, one day I’m going to have someone tearing down my door just because they want to say hello...”

She trailed off as the door opened fully, her mind taking in the sight that met her in the corridor. A tall and distinctly shirtless man was standing in the corridor. One deeply bronzed arm held the other with a blood-stained cloth. Streaks of the liquid had made their way past the cloth and stained his arm despite the efforts to avoid it. The man had long, black hair tied in a braid and matching paint covering the upper half of his face. It was upon seeing his eyes that she realised he must be Chaktawe.

It made her hesitate. Her usual response to such a greeting would be to usher the person out of her apartment and to whatever place they called home in Syliras. She did not treat people in her home, dying or not. It was her space and she didn’t particularly feel like decorating it with the various liquids that people tended to spill, project and ooze around her.

Even so, she’d never met a Chaktawe face to face before. From what she heard of them (and their rare appearance in the city) he wouldn’t have a permanent dwelling for them to go to instead. She narrowed her eyes a little, taking in the bruises beginning to colour around his neck and haphazardly across the rest of his torso. Somehow she suspected he hadn’t run across trouble unexpectedly. From his expression and the angry red graze across his knuckles, he was the kind to seek it out. Finally coming to a decision she addressed him directly.

“5 gold mizas to fix everything up. If you’ve got that much then set it on the table and we’ll get started.”

The young woman turned and wandered back to the hearth, setting her pack on a chair and laying her tunic carefully across one half of the table. She piled her journals and inksticks in her arms, replacing them carefully in the chest. She set some water to heat and pulled a large metal bowl and a mug from the shelves, placing it on the table beside the makeshift table-covering which her tunic had provided. At least if she was going to break with tradition, it would serve to sate her curiosity for a while.
Devi
Workaholic Syliran Doctor
 
Posts: 276
Words: 223466
Joined roleplay: November 15th, 2014, 7:19 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Rhov on April 26th, 2015, 6:48 am

Rhov shifted uncomfortably as impatience began to grip his being. The pain wrought from his fight the night before began to flare up across his arm again; doing nothing to better his patience. He set his eyes hard upon the door, as if by willing it open the doctor would appear to heal what ailed him. Snorting with displeasure at distinct lack of opening doors, Rhov raised his fist again to slam mightily down on the poor, innocent slab of wood.

The door swung open before Rhov could punish piece of oak for its lack of cooperation, and the Chaktawe brought his hand down awkwardly from its striking position. Grimacing as his arm began to pulse with pain, Rhov cradled his injured arm with care. His pain now relatively managed, Rhov's onyx eyes flashed with slight surprise at the sight that greeted him.

Her hair cascaded downward in a river of auburn, pooling comfortably at the base of her neck in a loose braid. Skin creamy and pale, firelight danced lithely across her small form with abundant glee. Small freckles dusted across her cheeks scrunched slightly in surprise as she studied Rhov's unorthodox appearance. Her forest green eyes, verdant with the seeds of intelligence, shifted with trained speed as she took in the extent of his injuries.

It took a lot to blindside Rhov. In his profession, the young bounty hunter had to constantly be aware of his surroundings, of the people that swarmed by him on their day-to-day. His ability to disseminate information from brief impressions, to be able to follow an old trail to a fresh body, to eliminate the extraneous and focus on the important, it's what set him apart in his field. However, something about this young doctor surprised him. He wasn't sure what that something was, but it remained present in his mind nonetheless.

Reaching into his pouch, Rhov fished out the required amount that Deviana requested. He thanked Eywaat that he had remembered to bring some spending money into town before he left to meet with Gene Duval the day prior. Had he not, he was unsure he could rely on a stranger's charity to see him through the day.

"Where do you want me?" he asked abruptly, breaking the steady silence which had begun to set in as Deviana readied herself for work. His eyes wandered over the layout of the woman's apartment, taking in the whole of its layout. It seemed organized, with every piece of furniture seeming to have a distinct place within the building. Rhov decided that it fit its owner's apparent mannerisms, noticing her methodical approach as she readied a jury-rigged operation table.

Something tells me this will be an interesting experience.

Ledger-5 GM for medicinal service.
User avatar
Rhov
Justice despite consequence
 
Posts: 100
Words: 116309
Joined roleplay: March 15th, 2015, 9:45 pm
Location: Syliras
Race: Chaktawe
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Devi on May 4th, 2015, 3:41 pm

Devi gestured to the table she’d lain with her supplies. Once her newest patient was settled she poured some of the water from the kettle, now pleasantly warm, into the large bowl and then set the kettle back on the hearth to boil. Carefully she pulled away the soiled cloth from the man’s arm and threw it immediately into the bin. She retrieved a clean cloth and pulled the injured arm carefully until it was over the table-covering. With deft hands she began cleaning the blood from the man’s arm. It was already slightly sticky, the blood coagulating a little at the edges and surface of the wound. As the streaks faded she noticed the deep bronze colouring of someone used to long hours under the sun. With her eyes still concentrating intently on her work, she spoke to her visitor, easing the silence that had settled in the room.

“So what brings you to Syliras? I’ve not met your kind here before.”

She eyed the shape of the wound as she carefully cleaned it, trying to visualise in her mind’s eye what manner of implement would have caused it. It wasn’t too deep but was long, shallower at the end. The cut itself was relatively clean – it wasn’t messy like it would have been if anything blunt had been used. Devi found herself wondering if a cut from a knife with teeth would look messier but shook her head of the thought, redirecting her curiosity along more relevant paths.

This wound was a slice, most likely from some kind of blade. The man had money on him so he clearly hadn’t been robbed. Her eyes flicked to his torso briefly. Though she couldn’t see it properly from this angle she would bet that the handle she could see ended in some kind of blade held against his back. As she finished cleaning Devi wrung out the cloth she held in the now crimson water and appraised the man again.

He was much taller than her, his chest and limbs showing a tone of muscle earned by a lifetime of labour. His appearance, right down to the black eyes, was almost animalistic in nature. It was all the more argument against his being a target of petty crime, particularly in Syliras where the consequences were so severe. Her mind wandered back to her first assumption –that he had been looking for trouble.

The whistling kettle distracted her and she once more settled back into routine. Into the mug went juice boiled from Brinetooth berries and a small amount of dried Tolm. Together with the hot water the two should help to ease the aching pains caused by the cut and the multitude of bruises displayed, as well as helping to restore strength. She mixed them and then lay the mug on the table.

“Let it cool a little before you drink it.”
Devi
Workaholic Syliran Doctor
 
Posts: 276
Words: 223466
Joined roleplay: November 15th, 2014, 7:19 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Rhov on May 26th, 2015, 8:33 am

Image


The water bit and stung as the liquid turned to rust on his arm. The sweeping stains of red washed away to the familiar bronze of of his natural skin tone, swirling trails of scarlet fading to grey against a scarred sea of copper. Rhov swore under his breath at the contact against his still fresh wound; the windy words of Tawna storming out of his mouth like a hushed gale rushing over sun-scorched dunes.

"Petch! That stings more now than when that bastard stuck me," Rhov grumbled with discontent.

As the doctor dressed the long gash which journeyed up his arm, the Chaktawe's onyx eyes found themselves wondering across his healer's face. Her brows were furrowed with intent focus; skin, pale and creamy, folded against itself as Deviana's nimble hands dressed his arm. A stray strand of auburn poked of the loose braid which held back the waves of her hair, and Rhov found himself smirking as the hair bounced back and forth in response to its owner's own swift movements. His attention snapped back from the doctor's face to her words, face coloring slightly at the realization that he had been staring.

"No, I imagine you wouldn't," Rhov growled back, his pain and minor embarrassment souring his mood. The bounty hunter didn't do well surrounded by cold stone walls, and coupled with his distaste for sitting still it would be an understatement to say that Rhov was uncomfortable. His injury only added to his foul temper as the wound flared with new pain; the Chaktawe looking more akin to an angry, wounded animal with every passing moment. "Let's just say Syliras is a good hunting ground and leave it at that, hmm?"

A whistle, sharp and piercing, cut through the conversation like a knife. The sound rang fierce in Rhov's ears, and his lips pulled back in an annoyed snarl. Steaming hot water rushed out of the boiling kettle and into the mixture held within a small mug; its strange aroma consuming the air of the apartment. As Deviana lay the cup onto the table next to him, Rhov noticed her dark green eyes once again flicker over his battered form.

With a sigh, Rhov blew slightly on the mixture to cool the drink. His solid black eyes met her forest green, and despite his better judgment, Rhov yielded himself to her curiosity.

"Are you going to keep staring, or are you going to ask me what you've wanted to ask since I walked in?"

Image
Last edited by Rhov on June 9th, 2015, 9:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
Rhov
Justice despite consequence
 
Posts: 100
Words: 116309
Joined roleplay: March 15th, 2015, 9:45 pm
Location: Syliras
Race: Chaktawe
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Devi on June 9th, 2015, 9:37 pm

Devi felt the corners of her lips twitching as she listened to her patient grumbling away. His body was coiled as though it would spring to action at any moment and she found herself wondering if it was the pain or something else which was making him restless. Eventually she couldn’t quite prevent the quip she’d been biting her tongue against from bubbling to the surface.

“I had no idea that Chaktawe were so delicate. Just wait ‘til I start stitching…”

She watched him drink his tea, curiosity still overpowering her usual routine. As though reading her mind he prompted her to be out with it. Stubborn (or rather, sarcastic) to a point, she responded with equal courtesy.

“You know, if you don’t like people staring at you then you probably shouldn’t walk around half-naked.”

She tilted her head at him and then turned to retrieve her kit. She deposited it on the table next to his decidedly cleaner arm and turned to the shelves beside the hearth. The counterparts of her shelves in other apartments would be filled with cooking herbs and spices, any number of non-perishables like rice or beans. The only creations Devi’s hands were capable of cooking up were medicinal so her shelves were filled with jars, pots and packets of varying shapes, sizes and colours.

Devi sorted through them methodically, pulling out a sealed glass jar full of a pale paste and another, smaller, filled with a mid-green powder. The first was Krolar paste, to apply to the wound and aid in its healing once she’d sealed it. The second was powdered Vyfox. She’d been mixing it into the paste of late, where the wounds she treated were bleeding rather profusely. In this case, she suspected the usual danger of tearing stitches would probably be exacerbated by the nature of the man attached to the wounded arm. As she mixed the two she finally asked the question she’d been wanting to ask.

“Pits or Cage?”

She looked at him, watching his reaction, before continuing.

“I patch up a few pit-fighters despite my better judgement. Well… I patch up the good ones. The losers, if they live, can’t afford me and they’re not nearly polite enough to warrant my goodwill.”

She shook her head and switched back to point,

“Cage fighters rarely come to see me. They have their own ethically questionable medics to stitch them back together. When you need stitching up that often it pays to have booze nearby and someone quiet to heal you. Apparently. For some reason I’m never approached for such tasks.”

With the paste now mixed and ready to apply she settled herself close to her patient, the light scent of blood and sweat mingled with the usual herbs and flowers smell she was accustomed to. She applied the paste to the open wound, with quick and gentle motions, before continuing.

“Why do you do it?”
Devi
Workaholic Syliran Doctor
 
Posts: 276
Words: 223466
Joined roleplay: November 15th, 2014, 7:19 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Rhov on June 10th, 2015, 1:23 am

Image


Rhov snorted despite himself, spilling small drops of tea over himself. A small grin pierced through his bristling demeanor, teeth flashing white and making the hardness of his face seem softer for a fleeting moment. Setting the drink down, he brushed the lost liquid aside with a calloused hand.

"Not all Chaktawe, just me," he replied honestly. "I can handle big pain. It's just the little stuff gets me."

He paused for a moment, onyx eyes glaring upwards at her, glinting with just a hint of danger.

"But 'delicate' isn't a word I'd use to describe me."

As she continued, he found himself confused by her caustic tongue. One second, the doctor was all business, almost cold in her methods and manner of healing. The next, embers of warmth sparked to the surface as she launched sarcastic dig at him. Even now as another barbed word sprung from her pale pink lips, Rhov found he still couldn't quite place this woman.

"It's hot out. Therefore, I wear less clothes. I don't get how that's so strange to people."

He shuddered slightly as memories of his cage match popped into mind, residual embarrassment settling unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. The reactions of certain crowd members to his attire, or lack thereof, it unnerved Rhov.

"I don't mind the stares as much as the comments. They...confuse me."

As the doctor searched and sorted what Rhov could only assume to be more medicinal products, the Chaktawe's thoughts flitted back to his night of combat the day prior. He replayed the events in his mind, every blow and bruise vivid in his mind's eye, and found himself disappointed at its conclusion. While the bounty hunter reveled with resounding joy in combat, the memory of the icy-sweet flow of adrenaline sending spikes of euphoria through his veins always tempting him to violence, he did not enjoy needlessly taking a man's life. It felt like thievery to him, robbing whomever he killed of their potential in the world. Rhov hated thieves, and he hated the look that men gave him as the last embers of their life were smothered before his eyes. No, killing was not a task he enjoyed, and that cage fighter's death last night left any happiness he gained from combat ashen and hollow.

Dark eyebrows shooting skyward with surprise, the doctor once again managed to blindside Rhov with her talent for observation. So many layers to this woman had, and he would be lying if he said she did not continue to intrigue him.

"Cage," he replied hesitantly.

He listened intently as she explained her reasoning behind the question, intrigued in how she discovered the origin of his wounds. So involved in her brief dissemination of facts that he hardly even noticed the slow numbing sensation which trailed up his arm.

Her next question, however, made his lips curl in a soft, bittersweet smile.

"Purpose," Rhov said softly, the word heavy and solemn upon his lips. "Strange, I know, but that's the truth of it." His eyes flickered briefly to the woman who tended to his wound; the woman who perplexed him so. A brief sigh escaped his lungs, and Rhov decided that such a person who would work on her own time to fix up men like him at least deserved to have her curiosity sated.

"My people, they have a ritual," he began, struggling to find words in the Common tongue to describe an experience distinctly Chaktawe. "You would call it 'The Searching' in your tongue. It is a rite of passage for all members of my race, though the exact details vary from tribe to tribe. When we come of age, we are banished from are home and must survive the desert; our only aide that which the gods provide. We do what is necessary to survive those burning sands, but most of all we pray. We pray and pray and pray until the words lose their meaning, and then we pray more. Eventually our god answers, and gifts to us a guardian to see our safe passage in the world, as well as a guiding word to arm his children with purpose."

Rhov chuckled with hollow humor, becoming lost in the maze of his memories. His smile turned dry and shallow, and he turned to the doctor sitting at his side.

"Do you want to know what Eywaat said to me?" The youth asked, his tone notably absent of curiosity.

"He said, 'Rhov, your purpose is like water in Eyktol. You won't find it here. So go North, to where the rivers run wild and the trees turn copper, and hunt for your purpose. Hunt until you have no more prey that challenge you, and then your fate will be achieved.' " he finished coldly, emotion draining out of his voice as he recited the words which drove him from his family.

"I'm not a cage fighter, that was a one-time thing. I'm a bounty hunter, and Syliras is my hunting ground. Onyx eyes tuning steely and hard as silence began to bloom in sound's absence, Rhov's gaze turned to the woman next to him.

"Satisfied?"

OOCSorry for the length of it. I was just kinda feeling it :D

Image
User avatar
Rhov
Justice despite consequence
 
Posts: 100
Words: 116309
Joined roleplay: March 15th, 2015, 9:45 pm
Location: Syliras
Race: Chaktawe
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Devi on June 13th, 2015, 6:08 pm

Devi felt the muscles in the Chaktawe’s arm gradually relaxing as she added more of the healing paste to his arm. She left it to sit for a moment and cleaned the remnants from her hands as he spoke. His answers surprised her. Cage fighters tended to be the very opposite of her preferred company. As far as she was concerned you had to enjoy violence a little too much or enjoy your own life too little to end up down there. She struggled to see how a desert nomad would have ended up in Syliras of all places in order to complete a ritualistic rite of passage. The people of the city could hardly have been welcoming to him. Sylirans were safe enough in their home but all too insular for her tastes. Anything new or unexpected was treated as dangerous and the depths of this man’s eyes were anything but reassuring.

She looked up again as she felt his eyes on her again and nodded at his next question. Truthfully she had never heard of Eywaat before. She paid only vague lip-service to many of the gods whose believers were prevalent amongst her neighbours. As he recited his god’s words to her however, his tone emptied of all warmth, to the point that she wondered how welcome the direction had been. She did, however, pick up on a word that she suspected held significance considering the context.

“Rhov, is that your name?” At the pause Devi cocked her eyebrow and responded to his most recent question, “If I was ever satisfied at just one answer then my life would be a lot simpler, though decidedly boring.”

Devi broke their eye contact at last and reached for her kit, pulling out the small, shining implements she would need to finally stitch the wound together. She digested all the information he had provided her with as she did so. Her stomach began knotting itself as she considered the implications of it all.

“Rhov the bounty hunter hmm? Who sets the bounties for the people you seek? Who defines the boundaries of your trade?”

A little edge crept into her voice at that. He confused her. One moment he spoke warmly of his people and their traditions and the next he revealed coldly that he hunted people in order to make a living. Whilst the logical part of her reasoned that she knew nothing of the people that Rhov hunted and very little of the reason behind it, a deeper, more instinctual part of her was already layering judgement onto him. What kind of person would hunt people for a living after all? What kind of man could fight in the Cage and tell the world that it was the only time he would be in there? In her experience people could persuade themselves of any justification they set their minds to. Your own mind was the easiest mark you would ever find.

She recognised dangerous emotions simmering in the pit of her abdomen and shook herself mentally. Regardless of anything else, she was a doctor. She needed steady hands for her next job. A less controversial question came to the forefront of her thoughts.

“Who is Eywaat?”

Devi threaded the needle she would need carefully, her small fingers not quite used to the motions yet. Versin would allow her to assist him in surgical procedures when she had apprenticed to him, infrequently though they would occur. Back then she had focused all her energy on the procedure itself rather than the preparation for it. It was only recently that she had come to realise how much could be involved in this stage of the process. Leaning close she began stitching the flesh together, watching for any sign that Rhov might twitch his arm at the wrong moment, in pain or in anything else.
Devi
Workaholic Syliran Doctor
 
Posts: 276
Words: 223466
Joined roleplay: November 15th, 2014, 7:19 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Devi on July 5th, 2015, 1:11 pm

The rest of the stitching went relatively well. Rhov the bounty hunter, to his credit, did not flinch at the pain or the uncomfortable tugging of flesh that her stitching caused. She secured the last stitch in place and leaned back to scrutinise her work. It wasn’t the neatest of seals but she was confident that it would hold (assuming of course Rhov wasn’t going to launch himself back into the cage at the first available opportunity).

From what little he’d told her, he hadn’t planned on returning to cage fighting. Though he told her very little about what his role would entail, she suspected his arm would need as much help to heal as it could get. To that end she retrieved the Krolar paste and powdered Vyfox, measuring out the amount she would need of each and mashing them together in a small bowl. She flitted back to her shelves and stood on tip-toes to reach an airtight jar containing Belltor flowers and seeds.

Devi set the small bowl of paste to heat gently on the hearth and then extracted a few dried flowers and seeds from the jar. Setting them in her pestle bowl she replaced the jar quickly to ensure the remaining contents were preserved and then set to crushing the amount she had separated with the mortar. With timing even she was oddly proud of, Devi retrieved the now warm paste from the hearth as she finished crushing the Belltor. She mixed this newest ingredient into the paste and then returned to Rhov’s side.

She applied the paste carefully to the stitched wound, explaining that it should help the wound to seal quickly and neatly. With a stern look she also told him that were he to ignore her advice and ultimately end up tearing his stitches and causing the wound to bleed once more that she would double the cost for his return trip.

With the paste applied Devi deftly bandaged the area, securing the soft white material neatly and snugly in place. She instructed Rhov when to remove the bandage and to seek medical assistance if it started bleeding or if the flesh changed colour, becaming very irritated. In short time she was once more left on her own with nothing more to do than to ponder her first experience with a Chaktawe.

Making best use of the quiet time she had, she retrieved her journal from the chest in her room and flicked through her interesting patient files. Starting a new page, she detailed all she had learnt or observed of the interesting young man, explaining what his injuries had been and where he had acquired them. On the next page she used her charcoals to draw his likeness as best she could manage, though her skills were a far cry from the intricate drawings she had found in her mother’s journal.

The charcoal face stared back at her and she smudged the eyes into a deeper black. It was the last image she was left with of him, those startlingly dark eyes that revealed everything and nothing all at once. She stared at them for a moment, wondering if she would see them in person again, before closing the journal and returning to her regular routine.
Devi
Workaholic Syliran Doctor
 
Posts: 276
Words: 223466
Joined roleplay: November 15th, 2014, 7:19 pm
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Just a Flesh Wound (Devi)

Postby Sayana on August 22nd, 2015, 9:07 pm

Image

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request. If there's anything I may have missed, please PM me and I'll be happy to look into it.


 
Devi
Skills
  • Observation: 4
  • Intelligence: 3
  • Negotiation: 2
  • Medicine: 3
  • Socialization: 1
  • Investigation: 1
  • Herbalism: 3
  • Rhetoric: 1
  • Philtering: 2
  • Interrogation: 2
  • Sewing: 2
  • Drawing: 1
  • Writing: 1
Lores
  • Chaktawe: Black eyes and from the desert
  • Investigation: Determining cause of a wound
  • Herbalism: Brinetooth berries
  • Philtering: Mixing powered vyfox and Belltor into krolar paste
  • Rhov: Chaktawe bounty hunter
  • Herbalism: Belltor


 
Rhov
Skills
  • Endurance: 3
  • Observation: 4
  • Philosophy: 2
  • Land Navigation: 1
  • Intelligence: 1
  • Socialization: 2
  • Interrogation: 1
  • Teaching: 1
  • Storytelling: 1
Lores
  • Deviana Blackwood: Syliran Doctor with a caustic tongue
  • Intelligence: A home can tell much about its occupants
Injuries & Scars
Rhov will have a large scar on his arm from the knife wound.
Comments
I enjoyed the read Rhov. =) Don't forget that Rhov only knows Common at a basic level. A few times you mentioned him trying to recall a word or two, but his dialog certainly sounds pretty fluent so keep that in mind.

Comments: A simple yet great thread. I love Devi's inquisitive nature and how much she can learn from simple wounds.

Your Grader,

Sayana
Boxcode design: Firenze
User avatar
Sayana
Dancing in the rain...
 
Posts: 1938
Words: 1543550
Joined roleplay: September 22nd, 2014, 12:38 am
Location: Sunberth
Race: Eypharian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Journal
Plotnotes
Medals: 8
Featured Character (1) Featured Contributor (1)
Peer Reviewer (1) Overlored (1)
One Thousand Posts! (1) One Million Words! (1)
Syliras Seasonal Challenge (1) Alvadas Seasonal Challenge (1)


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests