[Injury Ward] It Was a Rough Spring (Asher)

[Xalet]

1st of Summer, 512AV Xuphim didn't believe much in doctors, healers, and medicine men. He believed that reliance on that sort of technology made a man weak. Made the body soft. Made the body too reliant on someone else to heal what should be best taken care of on its own. Xalet was completely different. After an entire season of abuse he arrived back at as the dominant soul within his body to find that nearly everything hurt. Xuphim apparently tried to get thirty years of hanging in the background caught up in one season, and the results were less than desirable. When Xalet woke up in the morning it was a fight to simply get out of bed. Removing his shirt and wielding a piece of shined steel in order to reflect the areas of his body he couldn't easily see with his eyes, he found cuts, scrapes, bruises, and what looked like bite marks! He didn't remember getting bitten. Dragging himself up and out of the longhouses, the very first stop would be toward the Injury Ward. For modesty the seven foot tall benemoth of an Akalak pulled a beat up tunic over his head, while the loose black fighting trousers were covering the waist and below. With what was left over in his waterskin he poured the cool liquid down across the top of his head, leaving long streaks rolling past his cheeks before dribbling from his chin. Ensuring not to catch anyone in the back-spray his hands whipped his now moistened hair backward, sweeping it out of his eyes. With his equipment pack over his shoulder he entered the Injury Ward, wet splotches still evident on the uppermost collar of his tunic. Supposedly the most rudimentary of health care could be found within the Ward, but that was all Xalet needed. Maybe something to sooth his muscles, or take the sting out of all of the superficial injuries that had collected themselves across the many cubic inches of his purple skin. Looking toward an open bed the Akalak dropped his bag down upon it, his eyes sweeping across the room in order to find someone unoccupied that didn't appear to be a patient who could take a look at him.

[Asher Salvatore Arc]

It had been a long day so far and the morning was not even half over yet. Syna still hung in the sky with a purpose and promise of a mildly warm day. Yet Salvatore had nearly been eaten twice, fallen out of a very tall tree and been escorted back to the ground (after falling out of said tree) and safer place by a talking ape. While this did not necessarily shock him mentally his body seemed lethargic though his mind swam around the possibility of creatures he had never seen before being so close.

“Perhaps I am dead.” It is a possibility. “But I thought we were supposed to be reborn or something along those lines.” To this he had no answer and he felt a passing doctor touch his forehead, a wrinkle forming between the beings brow, as if he or she could not figure out what was wrong with Salvatore.

Of course, said crazies thoughts were elsewhere, like on the massive person in front of him. How did one even grow that large? Their language was also strange, maybe that was why their Common sounded so stunted. Waving away the doctor, or what he assumed was the doctor, Salvatore stood up and began to stroll the room. An odd manner of people and races littered the room, some he was sure must only exist in his head. What he spotted next he was sure was some kind of ape-being in human form. Striding towards the violet skinned being looking nearly as lost as he was, well that or he was looking for a doctor.

Shouldering his pack he skidded to a halt in front of the other, not even realizing when he had begun to quicken his pace. “He’s tall.” But decidedly un-ape-like “True. But I'm never sure.” He circled the man carefully, watching him for a few moments before smiling and speaking conversationally,

“You’re looking for a doctor?” Does he even speak Common? Salvatore placed a waved his hand towards the bed, “I’m a doctor.” Vet. He corrected himself, “Same thing.” No it’s not.

Walking towards the open bed Salvatore patted it. There was no real ill intent behind his lie, he simply wished to know what the man was and he found simply asking as a fellow man ended with a black eye or him trying to figure out how he had ended up tied to a post. So, what is he? I suppose I can ask now, “Right then, so you’re a Jamoura?”

[Xalet]

Xalet was lost, in a sense. This was his first time to the injury ward, and as such he had no clue if there was some sort of list to sign it at, line to be received from, or order at which the sick and injured were tended to. There was no comparing the Spires to Syliras. Those safe, comfortable walls sat miles and miles away, chock full of rules and governmental systems that had been in place for hundreds of years. Now, in this place full of nature and wilderness the Akalak began to understand just how out of place he was. Though he hadn't donned his armor considering the nature of his visit, there was something simply in the way he spoke and the orderly way he kept himself that suggested he was from a city going lifestyle. "Yes, I am." Xalet spoke shortly, he always did with strangers. It took a bit to get the purple skinned Syliran to open up, unless a conversation erupted involving one of his more passionate subjects, such as religion. "Many small injuries. They've accumulated." following his description of ailments, his heavy body settled down upon the bed. It was lucky the furniture was made by Jamouras, as Xalet often had trouble with more daintily crafted wares holding his bulk. Weighing in at over three hundred pounds, his size was further enhanced by the dedication he had toward exercise and strength training. During several of his encounters within the Spires, it was quite possibly his large muscular structure had saved his bones from squiring fractures from stress related activities. "Jamoura?" he was confused, and that confusion was easily conveyed through his facial expression, even though his voice stayed very even as he spoke. His tone, while every bit as deep as his size would suggest, was unusually soft and smooth. "No, I am Akalak." Even living amongst Humans for most of his life, Xalet found himself often struggling with Human humor. Was the man just joking? Perhaps he should play into the joke, that might help him appear more social he thought, "I would make a poor Jamoura, as my skin is smooth. It seems the Spires has not seen many Akalak. It is understandable. It was the same in my home of Syliras."

[Asher Salvatore Arc]

Salvatore nodded in quick manner, assessing the injuries without any remorse, he doubted the herbs he used for the animals were any different for people. It couldn’t end that badly. Yes it will. “Would you kindly be quiet?” As the man sat down Salvatore flitted around languidly taking mental notes, note human or a very large human, very, very large. He cocked his head, finally listening to the answer to the questions.

“Not a Jamouran? An Akalak? And what is an Akalak? Are you human or something else?” I almost wish he was a little more injured, I could see inside better. “Almost?” Redirecting his focus he began to prod the light wounds and bruises, nothing that would require stitches it looked like, most things were healing on their own but could use some help. Then again he didn’t know what was going on underneath. “Accumulated, indeed!” I need to see the extent of all the injuries. “I’m aware of that. I need you to take off your shirt so I can see better.”

He took a few steps away but his eyes scanned over the specimen unabashedly, his skin was a different pigment than anything he had ever seen. And if he was human was it some sort of disease? Could he run tests? It’s polite to ask for names before lying to people. “I’m not lying.” He muttered, he was only telling a half-truth the man hadn’t said what type of doctor he wished for. Technicalities!

“Right then, so what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Mr. Color.” Turning away he looked at the tools beside him, not very different from the things he used and at the same time…well, he could always hope there weren’t any gaping wounds because chances were they would get much bigger by the time he was through. He hadn’t even done many animal stitches, let alone humans or Akalaks. Instead of taking the slight caution of his own thought he dipped a clean rag in the basin beside him and waited patiently for the other to dress down.

[Xalet]

"Quiet?" replied Xalet, unaware that he was being too boisterous. If anything, those he spoke with often asked him to speak up, not to quiet down. "I will speak in a lesser tone." he whispered, appearing rather amicable to any criticism. "What is an Akalak? It is the name of my people. Much like the name of yours is Human." or at least that was what Xalet had gathered so far. During his travels, however brief they were, he had already come across individuals that appeared to be Human, but weren't. Kelvics were one such creature, and the Dhani were the next. "Most live in Riverfall. We are built a bit larger than a Human, and I've been told the color of our skin is unusual." There was far more to being an Akalak than having an unusual skin tone and being taller than the average Joe, but Xalet was content at keeping the description of his people short and concise. In truth he had never really lived in Riverfall, and thus any knowledge he had of his own culture was primarily second hand. The Akalak wasn't just 'built a bit larger' however. His hands came down to grip the bottom of his tunic, and with a clean motion he removed the garment up and over his head. Any Akalak maintained a bit more muscle mass than a Human, but Xalet's physique was almost unparalleled. Veins stood out across the long stretches of his violet hued skin. Those wide traces of his vascular system fed blood to the thick, prominent muscles that made his torso so wide, and his limbs so powerful. His skin was far from unmarred, with patches of bruising in various stages of healing to be found all over the place. Bruises on top of bruises it seemed, with the occasional gouge, scrape, or puncture. In truth it was probably the amount of surface area and muscular density he had that allowed him to continue doing his duty in reclamation. The wounds quite simply had a large area to accumulate over. "I am Xalet, I was sent by the Syliran Knights under the authorization of Sergeant Braklin. I have not come to this Ward before, but I do not remember seeing you within the Spires. Have you been sent here from another city as well?"

[Asher Salvatore Arc]

Salvatore looked at the man blankly for a moment before shaking his head and waving his hand lightly before speaking a bit dismissively, “I was talking to myself, not you.”

He was being a bit curt but slowly as he was becoming more and more absorbed in the task of having a human or rather a non-human to work with. This is not going to end well. I’m sure someone— “Yes, yes I’m sure, a problem.” Then directing his attention to the other he didn’t press his questions but only nodded in understanding to the Akalaks words. “Unusual, yes.” I wonder if the pigment is caused by sunlight? Or other factors. “It could very well be caused from genes. Like an animal’s fur, some are dark and others not. Though this coloring is extreme.”

Rag in hand he was only a bit surprised at the other’s agreeable nature. It was the first time he had met anyone so accommodating and the other made pleasant idle conversation that did not really interfere with his observations. “Knights? I wasn’t aware we had those.” I was right. It is nearly everywhere. “Interesting injuries.” His body took them better than some of the bears I’ve seen. “Well, he has a large body. And—“

Only now did Xalet’s question dawn and him and he frowned a bit, his voice turning curt once more before he blithely ignored the question ever occurred. “No, I have not been sent. I am simply a vistor from Mizahar.”

A few moments of self-induced terse silence before he leaned forward, finally putting himself to use he started by cleaning the area. Carefully wiping the other down and applying light pressure here and there to get a feel to the true damage. He opened his mouth to question the other about where he received all the injuries but a large hand on his shoulder cut him off. Without so much as a flinch Salvatore turned to face the large Jamouran who did not look the least bit pleased.

“Hello.” I knew it! I said this was bad. “I’m aware of that.”

“You do not work here.” Salvatore flicked his gaze to Xalet, to the Jamouran and back again. He could lie to both but chances were it would end worse. Or I could just ask him if I may study him. Shrugging and not looking or feeling the least bit sorry he turned towards Xalet.

“I am not a doctor, I’m a veterinarian. However I would like to continue this when you’re patched up.” —going to get kick out and I knew this was a bad idea— Ignoring the little rant going on Salvatore stepped back a little and smiled, “Well?”

[Xalet]

"I understand." Xalet responded quite plainly. When it came to 'talking to yourself', the Akalak knew better than most what that was like. Of course it wasn't just a conscious, inner voice, or even another personality. No, an entire soul decided to root itself good and proper in the same body as the Syliran, although Xalet shared that fate with the entirety of the Akalak people. It wasn't so much a burden as it used to be, due to years of slowly coming to understand his second soul and figuring out how to co-exist with at least some level of peace. "Yes, the Knights can be found far to the West. As far as Riverfall I understand. The bulk of our numbers remain close to Syliras, and otherwise within the boundaries of Sylira." Of course missions, quests, and other ordered tasks had Knights heading all over the world, although the Spires was Xalet's furthest trek from his city life. It was quite the contrast as well. Though a great deal of his time had been spent within the confines of the Bronze Woods, the lushness and remote nature of the Spires put most other forests the Akalak had seen to shame. The large man took his injury assessment fairly well. His Patron was found on salves, ointments, and other herbal remedies. Often she would throw some mixture onto Xalet's skin in order to determine the usefulness of it's properties in healing. Most of the time the results were fairly positive. Other times...stinging would have been the least of his worries. A large shadow loomed above him, his head canted slightly in response to the short conversation between the Human and the Jamorian. "A veterinarian? Well...medical knowledge is medical knowledge. I will be within the Spires until my duty assisting with the reclamation is complete." "This guy is freaky. Something just doesn't feel right, you hear? I'm getting that feelin', you know, the feelin' you get when you meet some guy that lives in the woods and skins teenagers." Xuphim cautioned Xalet in a not so indirect manner. "I've no problem with that. If you've any skill that could assist in the reclamation, you're welcome to come along with me as well. I've been doing it without assistance for far too long."