Skurr had been standing in the shadow of the building, only a short distance away but out of sight. He is still covered in all sorts of… unpleasantness, and his head is pounding. But, it seems that the plan is changing to an escort job. He has a brief moment of clarity and steps out into view, turning his eyes to Cassius and speaking softly.
“The captain has a charge already. Shouldn’t you escort this one back to the Chapel, Sir? The new one and I can...” He suddenly stops and blinks, raising his free hand to tell ouch his head. “We can search for… others to help.” He lowers his hand, glances at the blood on it and tries to wipe it off on his filthy work leathers. It proves to be an unsuccessful attempt.
As Skurr’s condition now becomes blatantly apparent to Cassius, he wonders why he didn’t realize it before - stress? Exhaustion? He winces in sympathy, “No, you need to rest. I.. I don’t know how I didn’t notice that, I wouldn’t have done this-” obviously referring to the attempted running around and assisting people “-if I had.” Cassius looks to Dmitri, “I’m going to take these two to the chapel, you..” he vaguely waves him off. “You go and make yourself of use to these people.”
Dmitri started to object, but instead walked off. “I come to Chapel later.”
Monika sees the blood on Skurr’s hand, and her eyes widen. “Sit down,” she said, with more authority than anyone had expected. She walked to him and crouched down, setting the box on the ground. She tilts Skurr’s head, and examines the wound. The scalp seems at first to only have a long cut running from just above the left ear almost the whole way to the back of the head. However, under close inspection, the injury actually has separated the scalp from the skull several inches from the cut toward the top of the head. The skull itself does not have any grave damage but there are small signs that an axe had glanced off. Skurr had come very close to death and escaped by the toughness of his skull.
“It's a nasty cut. Infection is likely, and you'll probably feel severe delirium due to the location,” she said. She pulled a short knife out of the box, and began cutting away at the hair. After it came away in clumps, it was shaved to bald around the area of the wound.
She sat to think for a moment. Orcleaf and Saltflower in a Paleoil poultice for the wound, and Sunbulb Gum incense to purify the blood.
Wasting no time, she places a fist sized cauldron above a bowl, which she lights a fire in. She adds some sticky sap and seeds to the fire, releasing a thick white smoke, which she fans over to the injured man. She crushes some leaves and seeds into a thick paste, and, once the water has boiled, adds it to the water. While it infuses, she takes out a funnel and an alembic. With great care, she pours the tea into the alembic, setting it over the flame.
In a few minutes, she has a greenish poultice. “I know you're feeling rather nauseous right now, but this is the last thing,” she says, quietly adding “hopefully this works like it should.”
She lifts the flap of skin up, and applies the poultice to the inside and the outside of the wound. It made her fingers tingle, but it would bring down the pain, purify the wound, and harden, sealing the wound. “Now, you must be careful to allow no corruption to enter your body until this has healed. Because the wound is in your head, anything that would corrupt you will also corrupt your wound. Yes, this includes alcohol. Tell no priests about this, many of them don't take kindly to my craft,” she says, cleaning and stowing her apparatus. She puts the rest of the poultice in a bottle and seals it. She smiles at him. “If you need to be sick, please turn away.”
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