[Flashback] Dandelions, and Thyme, and Balms. Oh My! (Solo)

[Oluse]

511 Summer, 1

Finally, Spring gave into Summer. Though, at their high altitude the reprieve from the weather was slight. Oluse had noticed the sudden blizzards cut in frequency since they had first taken up residence on the mountain side.

The weather was not the only challenge he wished would give way to improvement though. Yurvik's condition had steadily worsened for some time now, and Maevon grew more and more distant. Oluse took no objection to the distance himself, for he still felt intense guilt over Yurvik's injury.

Oluse had done what he could to stay Yurvik's condition, in hopes to eventually recuperate him well enough for the three of them to escape the frozen tundra. His attempts had mostly been in vein. However, in this time they had managed to construct a fairly secure hut completely of snow, which Maevon taught him. His arm, having only been sprained and dislocated, was reset and void of injury, save for a light blue-green bruise fading quickly.

[Oluse]

This first of Summer hadn't been anything like the Summer celebrations at home. The time of planting over, they always held some festivities, and Oluse could return home from helping the community with crops, to just working on his personal studies. This Summer gave no promise of happiness, though it guaranteed many hard lessons would be learned...

He wished Maevon hadn't told him what day it was. The dark thoughts were getting in the way of his routine. And, after dropping a few morsels during breakfast, he decided to cast the thoughts from his mind. He, after all, had work to do.

[Oluse]

He crawled out of the narrow opening in the igloo, heavy cast iron pot in hand. Clumsily with his protective mittens he scooped snow into the container, then carefully receded back into the Igloo, trying to shake the frozen breeze from outside from his exposed skin. Emerging back inside he set the pot over the small fire, stationed over the roof's hole in the main section of the hut. Soon the snow would melt, and in time boil.

While the water warmed he withdrew his mortar and pestle from their spot in his bag, along with what was left of the herbs from The Spires. He layed all the elements out on a roll of leather before him, staring at the ingredients thoughtfully. He tried to calculate how many day he might be able to make the more relevant herbs last. He assumed perhaps another forte night if he rationed them properly. Using his basic mathematics he divided the herbs accordingly, sectioning them off in his pouches. All except the small variety of plants he had rationed for the day, and the Lemon Grass which Yurvik had proven to be allergic to which Oluse kept quarantine in his pack.

[Oluse]

He grabbed the pink of partially crushed Chamomile, dropping it into the mortar and beginning his meditative routine. Grab the herb, think of it's purpose and your intention with it, then move to the next till it is time time to mix them all. Chamomile was one of the first herbs he had ever memorized, and as such found reciting it's uses in his mind easy. The most prominent of these uses was the reduction of swelling and fighting infection. The next was Graveolens, which his mother always called dill when cooking. The yellow interior of the dried pods would strengthen the remedies effectiveness against infection, at the cost of irritating Yurviks throat, something Oluse had been watching carefully as to not constrict his shallow breathing. After flaking the outer layer of the closed pod off, and pouring the ocher yellow seeds into the concoction he moved onto the last of the ingredients. Sage was to help again again infection, but he applied it to the mortar sparingly, not wanting to inflame the issue of Yurvik's throat, and circulation.

With all of the ingredients in place he began to press, rotating his tool slowly as he grinded down into the leaves stalks and seeds. He reveled in the deeply pitched sound, rolling like hushed thunder under his palms, vibrating up through his entire body. Never was he more relaxed than when he mixed his infusions, never as at peace. Before long the powder was ready, and he used the warm water to transform it into a lightly colored infusion. With a soft smile he swirled it before him, inspecting it for any mistakes or stray flakes of this herb or that. Once it passed his test he went to Yurvik. Genitally supported his head, and guided it up so the liquid would poor smoothly.

Yurvik had moments of consciousness, far and few between, and even less lucid ones. That moment was neither, the mans eyes stuck firmly shut. "Yurvik, this is going to be bitter, but it's medicine, you need to drink it." The words poured from his lips, just as he poured the potion, with genuine love and care. The sound was soft and subtle, soaking into the frozen walls without echo. With only a little cough and sputter the watered down infusion slipped into Yurvik slowly over the next several minutes. With a smile Oluse set the container aside, and lowered Yurvik's head back to his makeshift pillow.

[Oluse]

On hands and knees he moved himself down to Yurvik's leg, still the most imposing injury. He peeled back the thick blanket draped over him, holding his breath a moment. Slowly he drew in the thick air, pouring over his tongue like thick syrup. It wasn't an overtly horrible smell, though there was no denying infection had set in. The otherwise foul smell was both strengthened and offset by the dressing he had applied to it every day since the accident. The dressing comprised of two of his favorite herbs, Saigonicum and Clavos (more commonly knows as Cinnamon and Cloves.) Together the herbs and wound gave birth to the aroma that had permeated the cold, and infused every inch of cloth in the hut. The smell followed even when Oluse left, clinging to his own skin.

Using extreme caution he peeled back the cloth stuck to the wound. Yurvik groaned slightly at the pain. Oluse then set it aside, in a basin of water, and used a new cloth to begin dabbing away at the wound. Taking his time, having grown more trustful of Morwen's watch over Yurvik, Oluse washed the wound with gentle care. Once cleaned he turned the job over to Maevon. She had showed a careful and concise skill for medicine, and had a compassion for her husband that Oluse had never witnessed before in anyone.

"Maevon." He said at almost a whisper, "I'm going to add some Tarragon to this warm water, it should help reduce inflammation and help fight infection. Use this cloth to wash out his wounds, and the rest of him. But, don't touch the wound on his leg. I've taken care of that." He was afraid she might harm him, or spread the infection if she did. "Also, try to do it quickly, so we can warm him back up." He had gotten better at communicating with the women since the accident, better at teaching her what she needed to know about helping Yurvik, and dressing wounds. He was still not as skilled a teacher as hers, falling too often to silence and internal contemplation. But, he was trying.

[Oluse]

As Maevon uncovered her husband one limb at a time, washing him, Oluse worked at cleaning his own instruments. Once the mortar and pestle were pristine, and back in his pack he finished putting the rest of his supplies away. He hesitated a moment as he reached a familiar pocket. It had, before Oluse over eagerly exhausted his supply prematurely, contained a very special herb; a cure all, if you will. Echinacea was a well kept secret of his people, a secret he wasn't aware of till he arrived at The Spires. No Echinacea grew there, and Oluse couldn't perchase it anywhere, and no regular trade of it passed through. Oluse had been devastated at the time, and had grown even more angry at the situation after the attack.

He remembered Echinacea flowers from when he was younger. They would mark the Spring season with their beautiful oranges, soft pinks, deep reds, and pure whites. Like bright freckles adorning the otherwise dull hillside near Denval proper. He would spend hours each week uprooting them very carefully, so as to preserve their base. The plant was quite unappreciated by traveling herbalist, likely because the roots were completely lost to the brutish cultivaters. And, the roots were the only useful part. But my were they useful; known to prevent disease, boost immune system to fend off colds and the worse flu, quicken a wounds healing process, absolutely prevents infection, and even strengthen the very tissue the decoctionized herb is applied to. Most impressively however, is that the plant has no side effects if prepared properly, aside from a slight sensitivity if digested. This however never bothered Oluse, he enjoyed sneaking some as his father taught him to prepare it, slipping a drop or two onto his tongue to feel it tingle! It was like magic, like he could feel the wonder drug trying to heal him.

[Cheshire]

Character: Oluse Experience: Mathematics +1, Medicine +2, Botany +2, Herbalism +2 Lore: Curing Infection Additional Note: Great thread. PM me with concerns.