Closed (Infirmary) Wounds That Don't Heal

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Common Vani Nari

90th of Summer, 513 A.V.
Infirmary

Sleep was one of those things that was only pleasant if you were on good terms with the world. When on good terms you were given a peaceful rest without outside thought roaming your mind. If you were lucky, perhaps you were granted the blessing of pleasant images and relaxing thoughts. But Gale wasn't on good terms with the world. Nasty and harsh would be the words he would use.

And with such, the slumber he got was a cruel one. One bombarded with grueling pictures and a terrible storyline, which resulted in his awakening. The blue eyes opened in a single flash, starring at the fabric that hung loosely between him and the next bed. Not that it did all that much. All the noises of the people could still be heard clearly, however many there were. An occasional grunt as the other Zeltivan's got treated. Probably got minor injuries from some bar fight. Lucky, worthless vagiks.

The blonde's gaze turned slowly, blankly starring at the other parts of the room. There wasn't much to look at, however. He raised his arms, the aching feeling in his bones making itself known. The man slowly pushed himself to sit up, gasping when a sharp sting stirred in his bandaged arm. Gale pushed himself up the rest of the way with just one arm.

The pessimist looked at the cloth wrapping his arm. The blotches of crimson that soaked through. He can just picture what was underneath. Picture how it happened. See how the teeth fit perfectly within the holes they created. The nails with the scratches they have made. Those dark coloured vagiks should better be prepared for what they have coming to them. Because if they aren't then it'll cost them their life, and it won't be taken away with mercy. They won't have it easy, just like Kendhl didn't. He'll hunt those dogs, and when he finds them...they'll repay him. Every last drop of blood they spilled will be repaid. He won't take no for an answer.

His eyes started to water at the memories of the otter. How she wouldn't stop bugging him when they first met about being all sad. When she slapped him with fish and stuffed crab down his pants... When they were laying together in the mountain pass... Oh Kendhl, why have the gods taken you away? You didn't deserve it... You didn't do anything wrong...

[Niall Hammerfist]

Niall floated in the ocean. His arms and legs seemed weightless as he lay there drifting with the tide. Which was funny. Niall had never swam in an ocean before. How could this be? He asked himself. "Swim to shore son. You can make it." The voice of his father seemed to echo in his head. As if he spoke to him from deep within a mine. "Find your way back son." Niall felt his body buoyed up as if by a great wave and he opened his eyes. The ceiling was white, seemingly clean, and most definitely foreign. He was expecting a blue sky, or maybe buzzards, ready for an easy meal. It was then that his mind retraced his steps. He had been laying on the ground near the gates of Zeltiva when some guards had found him. He had seen his father. Or had he? His mind still seemed muddled and foggy. With a little effort he found he was able to look around the infirmary room he was in. He could see several other cots with patients on them. Including his neighbor, a scrawny looking human with blonde hair and lost blue eyes. Niall could see him staring off into nothingness. He knew that stare all too well from personal experience. Something had happened to this man; something bad. Niall tried to let it go and focus on his current situation. He still felt like he was thirsty, and his whole body felt like one big cramp. The nurse came by at the speed of an arrow ignoring him when he raised his hand trying to get her attention. He let it fall to his side and tried to lie still. When he touched his side he realized that all his clothes were gone, and he was wearing the whites of an infirmary patient. Simple woolen garments laced loosely enough that the medical staff could poke and prod if needed. He felt the cloth with his hand and remembered what un-sullied clothes felt like. If he found the rest of his equipment, that was his next stop. New clothes were a must. The road is not kind to clothes. His road in particular was rather bad. The nurse seemed to fly by again as if on the wings of a great bird. "Nurse, where are my clothes?" Niall managed to gravelly annunciate his question, which only served to remind him how thirsty he was. Maybe now was the right time to open up. His condition was not the best and it wasn't like the guy next to him was going to steal his things. Niall didn't even know where they were. He tilted his head to the side and took in the blonde haired blue eyed human again. weighing his options, and building up the nerve to ask him if he had any water. After a short time of fighting his concerns off with a mental stick, he cleared his voice and spoke. "Excuse me stranger, I don't mean to impose upon you, but do you have any water? I feel like I just crawled out of a furnace." His voice came out raspy, not unlike the call of a raven. He tried to follow up his question with a heartfelt smile. Though he worried he had not the strength to make it sincere.

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Common Vani Nari

Gale allowed a tear to roll down his face, leaving a cold, wet trail behind. It wasn't much of a thought, but being reminded on how cruel fate was indescribable. You can't forget. If you do, it makes sure to show you. And there is no doubt it will be bad. Everyone always ended bad. Every good thing had a catch. Always. You couldn't get around it. If there was away around it he would use every power in his being to use that to his advantage. But, you couldn't. The gods make sure you are put in your place.

The artist ran the memory of the fight through his head repeatedly. Though it brought more tears to fall, he had to be sure that there was nothing he could have possibly done to change the situation. Let's see here... They were surrounded, the dogs nipped at them. No, nothing there. They stood up, the dogs attacked again and got her leg-

The train of thought was thrown off the tracks when he was asked a really stupid question. He was asking him... for water? Why would you ask another patient for water? That was like asking if he had extra fingers he could lend him. It was completely preposterous! As a result, the artist slowly turned his gaze to the stranger with a very... uh... 'Are You Stupid?' face. His eyebrows and mouth were flatter than paper, and the glare the patient received hopefully showed him just how stupid he sounded.

Jeesh, Gale thought the next generation would be smarter than his. Suppose he was wrong on that. Looking over to the white clothe hanging between them like a curtain pulled back, he decided to make use of it and separate himself from this idiot. With several grunts to scoot to the edge of the bed, he did his best to lean over and grab it. As much as not being able to reach thew pathetic clothe was disappointing, it was even more disappointing to see that the nurses didn't even wrap his hand properly.

The blonde stopped leaning over and held up his left hand. His entire hand was wrapped, but only two fingers were visible, that being his index finger and thumb. The others seemed to have just been tucked under the bandage. At least that was what Gale assumed. He might have just wrapped his fist on the way here, but were they really that lazy to leave it like that? They couldn't wrap the rest of the fingers like his index? Sheesh. The Infirmary definitely isn't what it used to be.

The man's eyebrows were furrowed and he wiggled them with a loud wince. Though not much moved under the bandage. This greatly puzzled Gale. Were his fingers that weak right now? How hard did that dog bite? Hopefully it would heal quickly so he was able to get back to drawing. But curiosity seemed to be rising slowly. Just how bad did it look underneath these bloody bandages?

[Niall Hammerfist]

It was then that Niall noticed the tear that ran down the man’s face. He kicked himself mentally. Well, Yalani had been right all those years ago. He had rocks in his head. He thought to himself. The look the stranger fixed him with added to the guilt of his own mistake, and it was then that he realized he had to try to do something to make it right. Whatever that might be.


He turned his head back to the ceiling and gathered his strength to sit up. He rose slowly, letting out a low groan. Once sitting he swung his legs out over the ash slat cot he had slept on. This gave him a directed view of the man sitting next to him. The blonde man was staring at his bandaged arm. Niall wondered what could have him so perplexed by an injury. He had been stabbed, cut, bitten, flogged, beaten, and spanked many times in his past.


Niall was no surgeon, but he’d seen wounds before. Only once had he seen a bandage like it. This man, this poor man had lost part of his hand. A memory of his father lying on a pile of bear skins in a cave his shoulder wrapped in bloody cloth. The only thing left beneath them a stump where his gifted arm should have been.


For someone living in the wilds losing the use of your hands could spell death. Niall’s face turned ashen with the gravity of what he knew was happening. It was too close to home. The memory of his father wasting away to a skeleton in a bag because of the depression at losing his arm was flying through his head faster than a falcon in a dive.


When it looked as if the man was about to tear away the bandage Niall almost shouted. His voice caught in his throat from how dry it was. The noise that came out reminded him of the call of a raven. The sound sickened him, and he coughed to try and find his words again, though when he spoke, he still sounded oddly like a carrion bird.


“Stop.” His voice came out as a horse whisper. “Don’t… Don’t take it off. Don’t look at it. Not yet.” His face looked frightened, and he was. He was certain the man would fix him with another glare the moment he spoke, but he had to try and prevent him from the shock. “You can glare at me all you want stranger.” Niall said his voice faltering. “But, you don’t want to see what’s underneath those bandages. Not yet.”

Niall tried to stand. He felt weak, though he knew he could run if he had to. He used the wall at the head of their beds to stabilize his movements. It was difficult, but when he felt the wall held his weight he leaned against it, grateful for its stubbornness. Niall fixed the stranger with a serious stare, his eyebrows raised with obvious concern. His mind raced, searching for something, anything to try and draw the strangers gaze away from his injured hand.

Wit, Niall knew was not his strong suit. So he defaulted. "Whats your name stranger." He choked out.

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Common Vani Nari

The pain throbbed throughout his hand. Such a simple movement could do that to you. Especially if your fingers were as limp as a dead goose. Thankfully he didn't sound like a dying goose. If he ever sounded like a dying goose he prayed that someone would just put him out of his misery.

Gale tried his best to ignore this intense sensation, which frankly was foreign to him. Nevertheless, a distinct grimace was plastered onto his face. The artist brought his hand closer to himself after holding it out for a few ticks. A few ticks, although, left him sore and the man did his best to relax his arms while his hand grazed the moist bandage. His right hand was washed clean from the blood and mud which was smeared across it last night. His face was also washed of the blood splatters, revealing only one or two simple scratches. Though Gale hadn't checked his legs, they were checked and cleaned, with the bite securely wrapped. The one time the man didn't care about cleanliness or hygiene. The only bubbling thoughts that popped in his head were if Kendhl's body was still retrievable, and why in Mizahar the nurses wrapped his fingers in that way.

After having his fingers lightly graze over the red cloth, the blonde found the closest fold to where his tortuously pain filled fingers were. He went to lift the bandage but pressing the excruciatingly sensitive area resulted in a loud yelp.

Be more careful Gale! Gosh, Gale! You are even clumsy with your own hand! How can an artist be clumsy with their hands?! Aren't artists suppose to be super human when it comes to hand coordination? Can't call yourself much of an artist then.

Apparently the loud gasp caught the pathetic stranger's attention. He was scolded like a child getting in the sweets jar and told to keep away. He had no right! Who does he think he is trying to tell him what to do with his own petching hand! He thinks that he can just barge in here and tell him what he should and shouldn't do with his bandages?! That being his "bed mate" makes it alright to correct him?! If he thinks that he has any right to tell him anything then he better get a caravan and get his mother petching ass out of here.

Gale didn't even attempt to talk to the man. Kids are always taught that if you didn't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all, right? Though another piercing glare was awarded to the brave soul. Getting up out of your bed? What an accomplishment! Wow, you sir are outstanding. Great job. What are you going to do now? Slap his hand and call him a bad boy for playing with his bandages? Oh, boo hoo for him. The only time you didn't look at something 'yet' was when you wanted it to be a surprise. He didn't want to wait to see what happened to his fingers. Surprise! Your fingers will be crippled. Surprise! Your hand will look like something from a scary story. Yeah, not much of a surprise.

The stranger continued to urge him to not look at his hand yet, and even tried to change the subject entirely by asking for his name. How in all of Mizahar does this guy think that he will tell him his name? That's like going to a little kid and telling them to go to their room then asking for their crush's name. It just doesn't work that way! Once again, if he thought it did, then he better get on out of here.

There was no response yet again besides a glare. Gale quickly pulled the top strap off with a loud wince. He was still curious, of course, but now he was almost doing it for the sake of ticking the guy off.

Pfft, he couldn't look under his bandages. Pfft. What a moeron.

[Niall Hammerfist]

Niall’s typical caring nature was tested when the stranger glared at him again, and Niall swallowed his anger, building in the now growing knot in his belly. He considered himself a reasonable man. When you tell people not to do something, a reasonable adult will ask why. When you tell a child not to do something they wait till they are out of sight and do it anyway. When you tell a childish adult not to do something they look at you like they know better and do it anyway.

His rage had been building. Fuelling him, forcing him to act to try and protect this fool, from himself. He could hardly feel his wounds anymore, so hot was the fire in his belly. His hands shook with rage and he closed them into fists in an attempt to contain their movement. When the blonde man glared at him again, Niall saw the bull headed determination in the strangers face to do as he pleased. The rage in his veins turned to cold fire and a strange calm came over him as it always did when Niall knew he had lost a fight with a wall, and all that was left was to let it go.

“My name is Niall Hammerfist, son of Sulos.” He said, his voice eerily emotionless. He must have sounded like a talking corpse, his throat parched and his voice cold. “Where I am from, and in all the realms I have travelled through, it is considered very rude even amongst enemies to not introduce oneself.” He watched as the stranger pigheadedly continued to fumble with his bandage. “It must feel strange.” He said as he began to slowly turn and limp down to the end of the beds, his eyes focussed now on the door out. When he reached the footboard he rested his hand on the closest bed knob, leaning his weight against it.

Niall turned his head to the side, looking over his shoulder at the fool lying in the bed behind him. “They’re gone you poor fool.” He said with a quiver in his voice. The strength in his arm began to waver as it shook visibly. He bowed his head, his chin touching his shoulder. “I’m sorry for your loss stranger. I will politely leave you to your misery. Izurdin guide you.” He said, his voice full of defeat. He shifted his weight back to his centre and began to limp toward the doors to the infirmary.

He had managed to get three beds down the ward, for reasons Niall couldn’t fathom, and he was sure he would regret later, he stopped and turned toward the stranger again. Perhaps it was that he reminded him of himself once. Lost and confused, angry and stupid. Looking at the stranger one last time before he left, he burned the image of the blonde man's face into his memory. He took that memory, and added one more broken soul to the pile in his head. “If you seek vengeance,” Niall began and reconsidered his words. “If you seek justice, I will aid you.”

Somewhere in the back of Niall’s mind he hoped he would not see the stranger again. Though he knew from experience, that luck was never kind when one wanted it to be. He sighed one last time and shakily began to make his way out of the infirmary, away from the stranger that reminded him so much of a younger version of himself. If he could take flight he would have. Instead his shaky legs would have to do.

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Common Vani Nari

Niall Hammerfist! Son of Sulos! Oh gods, what a formal introduction. He certainly was messing with the wrong person. No one should ever be rude to Mr. Son of Sulos! Because he was only Gale McCenry, son of mother petching Ignotus Everto! Of course, Niall Hammerfist was so much more polite than he was. All Gale was was a lowly piece of shyke that couldn't never understand how important it was that Niall Hammerfist was the son of Sulos! Who in the petching world cares?!

Gale hoped that his scowl made it clear that he didn't give a rat's ass about who he was the son of or how rude he came off as, for in Gale's eyes, he was being just as rude to think that he would follow his behests for any reason.

After Mr. Hammerfist scolded him some more about being rude, although his expressions already did the job, he made a fairly random comment on it being strange. While Gale originally thought the absolutely polite man was referring to his hand, he couldn't help but suspect that he was referring to something else. For instance, not introducing yourself or say anything to someone who was talking to you, or perhaps being rude. Nevertheless, the murderer didn't care, for his misanthropy had practically double sine he woke up that day.

His enraged and sorrowful green eyes watched as the man who had attempted to solace him started to limp away, reaching the end of his bed before telling him the news that 'they' were gone. Of course they were gone. Everything always goes away from him. His father, his mother... His wife... Kendhl... When did anything stick around? Gale looked down at his hand, unaware of the man returning to his journey to the door.

But then he spoke again, offering his assistance for vengeance. For vengeance against those bloody vagiks. Those abominations deserve to die an agonizing and cruel death. A burning tear ran down his face as the images of what they had done passed before him. Almost subconsciously, Gale finally said in his low, baritone voice," Do you have any dogs?"

[Niall Hammerfist]

“Do you have any dogs?" When the man spoke he was surprised. So surprised it took him a whole step to stop and realize that it had been the man with the missing fingers who had spoken. He steadied himself on the nearest bed and turned slowly, looking over his shoulder at the man in the bed. He had not moved, though the light from the window behind him shone on the side of his face. The other was obscured in darkness. On his cheek a single tear caught the light, shining like a diamond. Niall wasn’t sure what it had been that tipped the scale in his mind, giving him the impression that the man was broken, but in that moment the young Isur felt he had bit off more than he could chew. Though, somewhere in his heart Niall reached out to the man. He wanted to help him. However, it had been the man’s coldness, arrogance, and pure rudeness that had left the young Isur raw with emotion. This is what held him in place and didn’t encourage him to rush to the man’s side. He turned slowly and stood as straight as he could. Quietly he cocked his head assessing what the man had asked. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. He had given this man an offer to help, whatever way he could. Though his manner, made Niall suspicious of his motives. After what seemed an eternity of fighting with himself Niall spoke with an air of seriousness. “No. I don’t have any dogs.” He leaned forward unconsciously resting a majority of his weight on the end of the bed he was closest to. He assessed the man’s wounds briefly looking at his hand, ankle and leg. Niall knew he was not ready for violence. After a drowning silence the young Isur spoke again. “You need rest now, and time to recover. Think on the subject of your vengeance, it will motivate you to heal.” His words came out with a subtle familiarity he was surprised had slipped over his tongue. “When you are ready, you can find me at Worlds End grotto most nights.” He turned again now and made his way to the door. When he reached the threshold he stopped one last time and shouted raspingly over his shoulder. “Be well stranger.” With his final words he slipped out the door to recover his gear.

[Gale Austin McCenry]

Common Vani Nari

Hm. No dogs? That's too bad. He could have killed it for him. Oh well. Appears that was his job alone. Gale continued to stare at the moist bandages wrapped delicately around his injured hand, not looking up at the Isur when he suggest that he thought about vengeance. Now, the murderer wasn't sure whether he was just playing stupid or if he thought he was stupid. Anyone who even knew the definition of vengeance knew that once you have it on your mind that it doesn't leave until it gets what it wants. Ever since he woke up he had been contemplating the scenario dozens of times. How he would locate the vagik. How he would take it's life. How it would feel to watch it's blood trickle down his hand. There wasn't a moment he didn't think about Kendhl and how he would avenge her. Not a single one. If what he man said was true, then he should have no problem healing quickly.

Mr. Niall Hammerfist left after wishing him well. Not that 'well' would be the correct term for what he would be until that vagik was dying in his hands. Indefatigable would be the word to use. Although the artist didn't believe that the Isur would actually meet him at the Grotto, for he was certain that they would never be in each others presence again, Gale would make sure to take time out of his day once he was let go to see if he had the probity to follow through with his word. Not many did these days, and a stranger claiming to have the desire to help another was inconceivable.

So that makes this a test in a sense. Let's see if he passes...

[Taylani]

XP Award!

Gale McCenry:

XP Award:

• +1 socialization
• Example 2

Lore:

• Nightmares: Bombardments of Grueling pictures and terrible storylines
• Vengeance to keep the nightmares at bay
• Grief over lost wife, and digits

Notes: These are comments.




Niall Hammerfist:

XP Award:

• +2 socialization
• Example 2

Lore:

• Waking in an infirmary
• Memory of his father’s lost arm.

Notes: These are comments.

Comments :

Feel free to pm me if you have any questions about your grade. Don’t forget to delete or edit your grade request

TAYLANI