Dr. Swamp
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββLocation: Shadowell Manor: Attic (Laboratory)
Skills: Intelligence
Hit Points: 2
ββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββββ
Swamp paused for a second or two, his gloved hands in position to separate an exposed ribcage as Amaranthine began to play. It was very different than the music that she had performed earlier. Forceful, almost frenzied in its execution, but balanced with sweeping sections of powerful melody. It was invigorating. The Doctor gave a smile of approval that, thanks to his surgical mask, could only be seen in his eyes. Realizing this, he bowed his head in the direction of the Chanteuse, then continued at his task with renewed gusto. "Autopsy Music, indeed..." he crooned, taking a pair of heavy-bladed shears to the more stubborn of ribs. A few unsavory popping sounds later (obscured but not quite negated by the music) and Swamp had removed the front of the man's chestplate altogether. He set it aside, picked up a smallish, sharp blade, and dove in. He barely seemed to notice the lights flickering off, though he did mumble a quiet thanks as the oil lamps were lit.
One might see the slight sway of the Doctor as he moved, directed not only by his instinct and experience, but by the music floating as an almost tangible thing around him. As he switched from one tool to another, one might observe a slight flourish to his movements; in a couple of instances he stopped working altogether to gesture his gloved, bloodstreaked hands in time to the melody. The Doctor operated with speed, skill, and surety, occasionally collecting fluids from within the cadaver.
The Doctor located and spread out a series of metal bowls upon the table next to the ex-person and began to relieve him of his internals in a meticulous, very orderly fashion. This was no mere butchery, this was the proficient work of a steady hand and keen mind, led by rare and recorded experience. Every organ from the man's torso with only essential tissues eventually found their way into the bowls, one at a time, still warm-ish and colored with the tint of a recently vacated vitality. "...on the one hand," he mumbled, "I should want to have drained the ichors from the late Lord's remains... Hmm. Though I shan't fear a little extra splatter for the sake of expedience." Though he mentioned splatter, there was little if anything at all in the way of arterial blood decorating his coat. It was uncertain if he was speaking to himself or to someone in the room, but he at least seemed to be enjoying the moment. Once the song ended, he addressed Amaranthine with a polite clap and an intonation of, "Glorious."
Wishing to confirm his suspicions from the external examination first, Swamp opened Lord Bardolf's heart. It took precious little time before he excitedly clapped his tools to the table and gave an enthusiastic, "Ah-HA!" He pulled his mask down and called over their chaperone for the occasion, "Quinton! Quinton, my good man..." Whether he moved to join him or not, Swamp was excitedly explaining what he had uncovered. "Now, if you observe this about his hands - and pay attention to the fingertips here, this is important and I shall explain why in a moment - and look at the discoloration in his sclera," Swamp pulled back an eyelid to allow view, "But this, sir," he said, motioning to the externalized heart, "Observe. Do you see what I see? Quinton, dear sir, the cause of your Master's death..." He leaned in close, whispering the answer to the larger man with a sense of solemn quiet. The Doctor straightened back up, eyes locked with Quinton as he gave a slow, serious, affirming nod. "I am certain of it."
He swiftly turned to Amaranthine, "Thank you, Chanteuse, so much for your assistance. It was invaluable. Inspired. Madame?" he gave a quick glance around and leaned in, relating the cause of death to her as well. Perhaps he was being paranoid with his secrecy. Or perhaps he was just being cautious. This kind of thing, if it were to be believed, could have a lasting impression on the remainder of their stay.
"If I could, Mr. Quinton? I would like to see what else I may determine, if anything."