[IC] An Early Morning Disturbance (Ebonfort)

[Twhirtley]

Starting Date and Time: 25th Day of Crimsia, 300 DM, 5th Stretch, Morning

Starting Location: Just outside Trix's Tonics and Tinctures

CS URLs: Verissa Beatrix Greenlakes aka Trix & Gregory Whitehorn

Trix's eyes shot open, her light slumber interrupted by the sound of raised and hurried voices. Grumbling lightly, she swished her blanket from her form, shivering at the early morning cold, her hearth fire merely glowing coals. Slipping from the bed, her bare feet alighting the rough hewn floorboards. She quickly slipped into her skirt and blouse, both of which had been tossed atop her chest at the foot of her bed. Moving slowly over to the window, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes. Peering out, the scene illuminated by the setting moon and rising sun, eyes growing wide at the sight of an Ebon Knight woman, seemingly unconscious in the arms of another, as well as few others milling around. It was obvious why there was so much commotion. Her services were required yet again.

Sighing, knowing she was going to be that much more exhausted tomorrow for this, Trix moved into her apothecary, immediately relaxed by the fragrance of the room, even more so with the moonlit greenery. She quickly cleared the center table of the many plants and tools that were scattered across its surface. Once that was done, she moved quickly through her shop and opened her door, finding herself face to face with Edoward and the woman he carried. "Put her on the table in the back."

He smiled sheepishly at her, but she ignored it, for she didn't have time for his flirtations, not today, not now. Stepping out into the moonlight, she immediately saw the lieutenant's sash on the Drow and approached him. Taking a commanding tone, her eyes falling on the gargoyle with the covered wound, "What happened?"

The Drow just shrugged, "Seems to have been a Screamer attack, this big guy brought her to us like that," jabbing a thumb in Gregory's direction. Looking at the gargoyle now, "You're injured too, but too big to fit easily in my shop. Follow me." The tone she used was one that left no room for argument. Turning back toward her shop, the Lieutenant started to speak, "I still need to ques--" causing Trix to look back venomously, "He's my patient now, you can question him when I'm done. Feel free to wait out here."

The drow stood there, jaw slightly open, dumbfounded, but unwilling to argue with her. After all, she patched up many of his men, himself included. Trix moved around the side of her shop, moving through a simple wooden gate in her stone wall, moving between the many plants scattered everywhere. Moving around the back of the building she moved through her back door, speaking over her shoulder, "Sit there and tell me what happened, in regards to the injuries. I'll tend to her, then you."

Trix lit a single lamp and hung it high in the corner, letting its glow cast over the unconscious woman. There was a large bruise forming on the side of her face, two shallow cuts in her shoulders, through the chainmail, at almost the exact same spot. Looking up at Edoward, "Get her out of that armor." He looked momentarily embarrassed, but a glare from Trix squashed that, as he scrambled with the varying straps and such.

While waiting on him, Trix moved about her supplies, from the shop, to the apothecary, and once stepping out into her garden. She gathered dried leaves from the watercress, summer savory, and horsetail, and fresh petals from her evening primrose. She dropped the dried leaves into a large mortar and began grinding them with her pestle, eyes moving from the unconscious woman to the door where the gargoyle should be.

[The Grey Dust]

This was not, exactly what he had in mind. A minor scratch would hardly require treatment. Certainly a bit of hopeful wanting was dashed away by the woman clearly indicating that he too follow. Despite that the shop seemed awfully small for anyone his size. Humans tended to build for themselves, and thus the doorway would be quite a squeeze for Gregory to fit in. Not that he wanted to tag along for this unnecessary amount of attention. He had a shop to mind and orders to fill. That sword he made the other still needed to be fitted, sharpened, engraved, reweighted and finished before the end of the month. Investing such time in a piece was worth it in the end, a fine piece that would be lying around the shop for a passing shopper to find. He should expand his business to a secondary market, but to do so would only feed the pockets of the merchants and middle men. They would over-inflate the worth linearly with their gross over exaggerations of the quality of the blade. Sure Gregory was good with metal, but he certainly claimed no title of master. Regardless he never signed or branded his pieces visibly, only a small discreet mark made during the balance tuning in the shape of a Y.

Although given that this woman seemed to make the drow commanding officer shut up, it seemed she was not a stone's throw from Keelie. Well, no such metaphor existed in Gargoyle tongue, but rather "mountain's stroll" because mountains did not often move... far. Regardless what was it with these women who where ever so domineering. Keelie was deadly, this other woman, a healer nonetheless was demanding. Gregory shrugged his wings, and decided to follow her for whatever purposes seem to justify not having to start something with her. Although he probably did twitch his nose at the scents of the garden minding his displeasure.

There was little for him to do, standing by the gate door, standing entirely still as a Gargoyle can. Along his tool belt was the dagge that caused the injury, still caked with dried blood. "Kin-Business from Green Fall. Screamer Ambush. Ebon curiosity stronger than their fight." A rather short explanation, although depending on how many Gargoyles Trix has met, they were a quiet race who were awfully blunt and kept their conversations short. "Escaped, carried her, minor injuries." As he began to turn his gaze over at Trix at last. "Her squadron dead."

[Twhirtley]

As Trix listened to the gargoyles rather broken sentences, finding it odd that his grasp on Common was so poor. Pretty much everyone in the empire was fluent in Common, even if they were born with another tongue. She certainly didn't know much about gargoyles, but this one certainly didn't seem distressed, so that wouldn't be a good excuse for the broken language. But that was neither here nor there, not really. The female Knight was in her undergarments on her table, letting Trix see the damage done.

Edoward was fidgeting uncomfortably, his face flushed red. Trix rolled her eyes, "Out. I'll call if I need you." She might be as inexperienced with unclothed people of the opposite gender as he was, but only in the romantic sense. She was, after all, a medical professional, and it was part of the job. Her eyes passed back to the shoulder wounds. They were a finger's width wide, and a few inches long, oozing blood slowly, puffing up a bit, reddening. She wasn't in danger of bleeding out, but infection was always an ever present danger. Trix gathered a jar of honey from her supplies, and mixed in the powdered herbs from her mortar, turning the gold substance a dark green. Once the mortar was cleaned out, she put as many of the primrose petals as would fit. She then used a twisting motion in addition to the pressure based grinding, and managed to eke out a few droplets of oil, dropping that into the honey-herb concoction and mixed it thoroughly.

She grabbed a pan and her wineskin and moved into her apartment, where the hearth was rolling heartily. After pouring the crimson liquid into the pan, Trix set it upon the stones in the fire, and waited for it to boil. As soon as it did, she came back and set it on a counter and dunked a few rags into it. "Edoward, in here now." The Knight arrived, still looking a bit pale. "I need you to hold her arms. She will likely wake up and thrash in pain. Don't let that happen. It will cause more damage. This is more important than anything else right now. If she screams, ignore it. If she fights, resist it. Understand me?"

The young man, a hint of green now in his cheeks, nodded, gulping heavily. He gripped the woman's strong, lithe arms from her body side, allowing Trix access from the top end of her body. Trix slipped a band of leather between the Lieutenant's teeth, then pulled out one of the hot, soaked rags, took a deep breath, and pressed it into the left shoulder wound. The sudden heat on the exposed wound forced the woman's eyes open wide, a guttural scream echoed through the building, her neck arching back, her chest attempting to do the same, but was kept down by Edoward. Trish ignored the woman and scrubbed out the wound making sure she didn't miss anything. She had to scrub hard, wash away some of the flesh that had already died. The herbalist repeated this to the other wound. It took several long, agonizing minutes, but she had to be thorough.

Once the scrubbing was done, she applied the honey-herb salve to the wounds and grabbed her sewing kit. After threading it, and dunking it in the heated wine, she gently squeezed the flesh to the side of the wound, and pushed the needle in. It slide across the gap and she pushed it in, then up through the other side. She cut it, and closed it with a doctor's knot, completing the simple interrupt suture. She continued with this until both sets of wounds were closed, the lieutenant now a bit more calm, though still breathing heavily. When she was done, she coated the sutures in the salve, then wrapped up her shoulders in clean rags.

Cleaning up her hands, she watched the woman's face, seeing her relax now that the pain had passed. She was conscious but not quite ready to maintain a conversation, and Trix figured she'd drift off to sleep soon. The herbalist moved outside for some cooler air and to examine her other patient. Just from a glance at the cloth and the blood, or lackthereof, on it, she knew his injury was superfluous. Maybe he just wasn't a fighter. There was nothing wrong in that. She'd never fought anyone or anything. She decided it would be better to not question it.

She sat down upon the soft grass, ignoring the chill and dampness of the dew. She just looked at the gargoyle, studying him, his gaze, his very minor wound. Her eyes fell on the gore covered dagger, thinking that maybe he'd fought after all. "Thank you for bringing her to me. It was very brave. Not everyone would have bothered. So thank you Mister...?"

A caterpillar was starting it's ascent up one of her plants. Many gardeners might have plucked it and killed it, but not Trix. She petted it as gently as she would her darling plants. This was its home as much as it was hers. "Oh how rude of me. I'm Trix, and welcome to my garden."

[The Grey Dust]

"Gregory Whitehorn." His reply was, ever the laconic. Taciturn and abruptly truncated with silence. There was far too much greenery here. While yes in Green Fall great trees enshadowed them, he had the smell of his forge to keep the wafting aromas of flowers and greens away. "Is the Ebon ready? Dog to feed, and Apprentice to manage."

---

Speaking of Apprentice, Kenneth has gotten himself into some trouble. Well, not really the sort of trouble that would concern an Ebon knight, but a few drinks at the bar and he blustered himself the courage to try something he hadn't before. A few good rounds of ale, beer or mead, whatever it was they gave him for his gold pieces, at which by the 4th drink the boy was already babbling in stupor and purchasing drinks for the men around him cheering him on. A free drink after all was worth far more than some stupid boy's liver right? maybe they could get some of the good stuff for his kidney? Anyways after dark and the still missing master, Kenneth was less than aware of his surroundings, nor exactly in the right state of mind. To which his staggered walk around Green Fall was something comical to see, if anyone found a stumbling fool laughable rather than detestable.

That being said, in his current state, he mustered up the thought of being with a lady. After all, a man has needs right? Urges to take care of. But in mistaking a girl for a lady of the night, well...

[Twhirtley]

Trix smiled politely with the exchange of names, even if she found his... unusual. Gregory was so... human sounding, and yet it was the name of this gargoyle. She wasn't even sure what type of name she'd been expecting, just not that. But that was neither here nor there, for he had business on his mind. She could somewhat appreciate that, but impatience didn't make healing go better or faster. Edoward came out at the sound of voices, and Trix looked up at him from her seat. "You did well today hun. Could you do me one last favor though?"

Edoward never knew how to say know to the herbalist that had caught his eye, and nodded. "We're going to need a few horses, to take her back to Green Fall. I'll travel with her in case her health deteriorates. If your captain will allow it, you should join us, to make sure we're safe. Can you do all that?"

A road trip? With lots of time to be spent with her, albeit with a gargoyle and a higher ranking knight. He'd move heaven and hell to make this happen. He smiled and left, forgetting to actually say anything in confirmation. Trix got up and moved back into her apothecary and grabbed a small, sealed vial. She put the vial beneath the woman's nose, and uncorked it. The smelling salts did their job, and Vegarra's eyes opened, followed by a pained groan. She tried to sit up, but Trix gently nudged her down, cooing as she would for a baby. "Easy now, you've been injured, you need to rest. You're in Ruby Banks, in my shop. There was an attack, and Gregory Whitehorn saved you."

Vegarra gritted her teeth, and sat up slowly. Her bruised ribs hurt worse than anything else, except maybe the throbbing headache behind her eyes. She felt the stiffness across her chest and shoulders, feeling at the bandages. Looking up at her healer with determined eyes, "I need to get back to Green Fall. I have to report this."

Trix smiled, there was always something about the determination of the Knights that made her proud to live among them. "It's being taken care of. We should have horses soon. You'll still have to travel a bit slower than you'd like, but I'll be accompanying in case something goes wrong." The knight nodded, before laying back and getting more rest.

Trix quickly gathered some supplies she felt could be useful, putting them all in her pack. Edoward still hadn't returned, so she stepped outside with the silent, stoic gargoyle. "We'll be leaving soon, I'm sure." She spent the next stretch or so milling about her gardens, gently guiding her plants, talking to them, noting what would need harvested soon.

Edoward returned, walking around the side of her shop, "We're ready." Trix nodded and moved back in the shop, surprised to find Vegarra wincing herself into her armor. She tutted in annoyance, but helped the woman. Once ready, she locked up the shop and they found themselves at their steeds. Trix was a bit intimidated, she'd only ever been on a horse one time before, when she was much younger, and it hadn't gone well. She watched Edoward try and help Vegarra but a glare and growl forced him back. The knight grabbed the horn, slipped a foot into the stirrups, and with a pained gasp, pulled herself up and over. Trix tried the same, but found reaching the horn was a bit more difficult than expected. She slipped her foot into the stirrup first, trying to use that for leverage. But as she pushed up, she began to fall back, only to be caught by Edoward's hand on the small of her back. With a stiff pull, she eventually managed to get saddled up.

"Lead the way Edoward, but keep it slower."

The young knight nodded, mounting his own horse and leading them out of town, knowing the trip would take several days. What was the worst that could happen on the roads of Ebonfort?

[Drache]

Reward Review

Verissa Beatrix Greenlakes aka Trix

Skills
Leadership 3
Intimidation 2
Negotiation 3
Herbalism 5
Medicine 5
Socialization 3
Riding 1
Sewing 2

Knowledge:

Contact: Gregory Whitehorn, the gargoyle with broken Common.
Contact: Lieutenant Ebon Knight Vegarra, patient.
Gargoyles: Too big to fit in my house

@Twhirtley