• Closed • In the Middle of Madness - Disaster Relief

[Hookor Crook]

Beginning Ten Trials in the Season of Ashan, 718th Arc

On the Docks of Scalvoris

"Over here!" the words in the form of a shout. Though there were lots of screams and moans to be heard during this crisis, this was not that. This was a call for assistance. The tone told Hookor that the shout came from someone also assisting, and needing help with what they were doing. Crook turned to find the voice. A young man in a white robe waved at the young half-Eidisi, bidding him to come. Hookor moved quickly, his long legs getting him their with much haste.

"How can I he--" he tried to offer.

"Put your hand here." the white robe interrupted. Before Hookor could react, the man had taken his hand, and dragged him down to the ground, and put his palm on top of a wound that was gushing blood from a boy younger than both of them. The child's skin was dusky white, the blood draining from him in real time. Hookor felt his lunch come up in his mouth. He swallowed it back down, and simply knelt there over the young fellow, frozen in fear to do anything else at the moment. The white robe stood straight and turned to look elsewhere.

"Stay with him. If I can find a stretcher I will be back and we will bring him where I can get one of the surgeons to work on him." he said, and with that he ran off. Hookor swallowed hard once more.

One, two, three, four...

Nothing in particular to count this time, just the need to do it. The young would be student had only just arrived on the island, when he got caught up in this tragedy. He had not even had his interview with the Professor yet. This might make for a good introduction, he thought, trying to distract himself from what was going on.

Shallow breaths...shallow breaths. Not a form of relaxation...no...what the boy was doing now.

"Oh no!" Hookor said with a gasp. The youth's respirations were growing shallow and rapid. Crook looked up and about. Where is he? he questioned silently as he looked about for the white robed man.

Crash!!

The gurney slapped down on the ground, and the white robe reached for one end of the young boy. He began to lift him. Hookor began to reach for the other end.

"Don't!!" was snapped at him. The man in the robe pointed at Hookor's hand, and that was all that had to be said.

Hookor could not lift it from where it was...or death would surely follow for the young man. The man moved around Hookor, and then he put the other end of the boy on the stretcher.

"You there!" the man called out to a big brute of a human, who stopped and came toward them. "Grab an end." the white robed demanded. The big fellow nodded and together, all three walked briskly with the boy in the stretcher...

[Hookor Crook]

"Bleeder!"

The white robe shouted the word as they ran in through the front door of one of the nearby clinics. A young woman cleared a path for the group, Hookor, the white robe,the brute, and the boy. They rushed through, going by other wounded, and then,

Plunk!!

The stretcher was set down.

"What have we got?" came a deep voice. A tall man, slender and not unlike Hookor except for his short hair and human colored skin, strode into the room, and over to them.

"Found him out there with a large gash to his right side." the white robe said. The tall man, who seemed to be wearing a white, but very blood stained uniform, nodded, then pointed to a towel that seemed to be covering some items.

"Grab that kit." the tall man said.

"Yes Doctor Shelby." came the response. The white robe went over and grabbed the items, while Doctor Shelby moved to a basin and washed his hands. All the while, Hookor simply stood there, his hand still pushing against the bleeding boy's wound. The youth was still passed out, and unresponsive.

"Place a towel on each side, above and below the wound." Shelby demanded. It was done. He took out some medical instruments and then it began. The details would become a blur, as the excitement of the moments prevented their retention. Hookor's hand was free, but his mind was fixed upon the procedure, the near miracle that was occurring in front of him. With the white robed man at across from him assisting, Doctor Shelby worked fast, but precisely, to fixe the young fellow's wound. They working inside him first, the surgeon clearing a path, finding bleeding vessels, then tying them off with twine, or something resembling it.

"There." he said, pointing inside the wound. The white robe nodded. Shelby moved things a little, but then grew frustrated. He looked to his pile of instruments, then glanced at Hookor.

"You there, grab that retracting device, there..." pointing to an elongated metal item with a dulled hook on one end. Hookor reached for it by the other, handled end. Shelby pointed inside the body again.

"Put the hooked end on that skin and muscle, and then pull it back, to clear my field." he said. Hookor moved quickly, and did just that. It worked, and Crook could see that the surgeon had a much clearer view of the contents of the boy's abdomen.

"We've got to get under his liver, and access the large vessel there." Shelby stated. Hookor was in awe, as the two men spoke, and moved, and worked to save the boy. Over the next break, they cut, and tied, and retracted, and cut, and tied some more. After several breaks, they seemed to have finally done it. Doctor Shelby pulled back from the motionless body, and lifted his hands up.

"We've done all we can. His fate is in the hands of the gods." he said. Shelby then stepped away, but before he left to help somewhere else, he turned to Hookor.

"Good job. Glad to have your help." he said. Hookor just smiled, and nodded silently. The surgeon left, but was replaced with the simply smile of the white robe.

"Good work. I'm Nathaniel." he offered his bloodied hand out in a sign of greeting. Hookor took it, and shook it.

"Hookor. Hookor Crook." he said with slight trepidation. Nathaniel nodded.

"Well Hookor, don't just stand there. More people need saving." with a slight grin, then he was gone, leaving Hookor to follow...

[Hookor Crook]

He hadn't gotten a good night sleep. The screams of agony, the moans of pain, they all had made for tossing and turning. At one point Hookor had placed his stuffed pillow over his head to try and drown out the pleas.

So as young Crook scanned the debris and destruction down near the docks, he was a a little more agitated than usual. Why was that important? Well, his focus was off, and so at first he did not hear the faint cry that came from a nearby home...or what used to be a home. Now it was literally, rubble. What beams were not charred to ash, were fallen atop the half standing walls of the once picturesque house.

What was that? Hookor questioned silently.

"Help!" came the voice, this time a little louder. Crook's head turned sharply toward the house now. Someone was in there. He moved briskly, but with caution. More than one of the injured over the last several Trials, had been rescue workers, who had become victims themselves. Falling debris, floors that collapsed under them, sharp objects jutting out in the dark, all had proven weapons against those who sought to help. Thus, while he wished to run as fast as his long legs could carry him, Hookor walked...lightly. Finding places amongst the debris, to put a foot, to grab a hold.

Then he was there. There was no door to open, not even a full doorway to walk through. As he entered what as left of the house, the voice called again.

"Help me!" It begged. It was that of a child. Hookor looked around, but saw nothing. Then he looked to the floor, all charred and black. There was a hole in the middle of it. He moved, still cautiously, toward the gaping maw that had sucked the house down with it.

Two eyes. That was what Hookor saw when he leaned over the hole and peered down. There was likely a face with those eyes, but it was covered in soot, and so blended in with the blackened debris behind.

"Are you all right?" he called out. The child tried to smile, but shook her head.

"Where is my mom?" the young girl asked with cracks throughout the words. Hookor pulled back from the opening for a second, and looked around. Nothing. No remains, no sign that anyone had survived, or even left a part of them behind. Tragic. He looked back to the girl.

"She isn't here." he answered, honestly. A tear began to run down the child's face, leaving a streak of exposed skin as it did so. She lowered her head.

Crash!!

The floor under him began to shake. It wasn't stable. He knew he had to get her, and soon. Spreading himself out thinly across the floor, after removing his shirt, the young blue skinned Eidisi half breed tossed out one end of it to the child.

"Grab hold." he said, trying to keep his voice calm. Internally he was counting, like he always did, to keep himself level. The girl reached for the arm of the shirt. It took two more throws, before she caught a hold of the clothing. Hookor then nodded to her.

"Hold tight, I'm going to pull you up." he indicated. She smiled faintly, then nodded.

Crack!!!

The floor gave way some more. No time to think, no time for anything else. Hookor pulled as hard as he could.

Crack! Crack!!!

And up she came. Hookor grabbed the girl as she reached the edge of the hole in the floor. Up to his feet, and then running.

Crassh!!! Crack!!!! Booom!!!

Just as the two bolted from the rubble, it all collapse in on itself, and then down into the hole in the floor. Hookor stopped just outside the debris field, and knelt by the girl.

"I am Hookor." he said. Once more the young child smiled faintly.

"I am Sadie Emma." she answered. Hookor smiled at her. He took her by the hand, and prepared to lead her to one of the temporary shelters.

"Let's go find you some food and water, Miss Sadie Emma." he declared. The two then began to walk, a little faster, away from the home that was no longer a home...

[Hookor Crook]

"It is made from the intestines of sheep...er goat, if I recall." Nathaniel said. He spun the length of thread about his finger several times, then pulled the free end through, tying a knot that brought two edges of the flesh wound together. Hookor was watching, taking in the technique thoroughly as the two worked on the dockhand who had been brought in from the accident scene. The medical student, a senior student from the academy, was supervising part of the relief effort, under the overall auspices of Doctor Shelby. He had also, unofficially, taken Hookor under his wing. Nathaniel was speaking of the suturing thread, which in addition to having been made from animal guts, was often referred to as "gut" or "Catgut". This information, like all things observed or told, was catalogued by Crook, deep into the recesses of his mind.

"And the anesthetic?" Hookor asked. Nathaniel looked up and grinned. Hookor was not even in medical school, and yet he knew the term, and its proper use.

"Doctor Shelby tells me it is a proprietary blend of Lavender, Pepper seeds from the south, and concentrated Clove Oil." Nathaniel answered. Hookor nodded, in thanks for the knowledge. The two continued to work, with Crook assisting as the wound was closed.

Gusssh!!!

Blood began to spray from the wound. Nathaniel cursed.

"Bleeder. Must have missed it when I explored the wound." he said, digusted with himself. Hookor reached for a blade. He knew what came next. Nathaniel cursed again, then took the blade and cut all the sutures, undoing all of their work. He pulled the edges of the wound apart.

"There it is." he said. He pointed to a jar sitting on a shelf next to them. "Grab that." he demanded. Hookor complied. Nathaniel took the jar and opened it. He poured a liberal amount of the grey powder inside, down on to the bleeding vessel. A slight sizzle noise, and then the blood flow seemed to halt. Hookor was amazed. He looked to his mentor with a questioning look.

"Chemically cauterizes the wound. Shelby says one of the local alchemists made it from silver and acid. Don't ask me how." he stated. Hookor nodded once more, filing the information away. With the bleeding stopped, Nathaniel took up his bone needle, cheap but readily available, and threaded it with more of the suture. Then with a sigh, the two began again, to sew up the gaping gash in the dockhand's leg...

[Hookor Crook]

The disaster was long over, the crisis near an end. Hookor was just finishing clean up after Shelby and Nathaniel had just finished amputating the leg of a poor unfortunate fisherman who had a giant house beam fall across it. It was beyond repair. One of the nurses was just finishing a dressing about the stump that was left behind on the old fellow. The woman laid down the remainder of the bandages, and then moved out of the recovery area...on to other tasks.

How must it feel? Hookor wondered. To no longer feel one's leg. To no be able to feel the sand under both feet. They were all things Hookor considered as he put down his mop, and moved over to stand above the sleeping fisherman. His gaze moved from his peaceful face, to the dressed thigh. The man had lost his leg from the knee down, in some ways a mocking wound, leaving him enough to say he still had some leg, but not enough to function for anything.

Groaaan!!

He was waking. The Milk of Poppy was beginning to wear off. Hookor looked back to the older man's face. The once peaceful expression was now contorting as consciousness, and the pain, began to rouse him.

"Is it done?" he questioned in a hoarse mumble. Hookor looked around, as if someone else should answer, but there was no one else there.

"It is." he said very plainly. The Fisherman's eyes, err one eye, opened. He looked at Hookor, then the other eye opened, and he was staring at the blue skinned helper.

"It hurts." he informed. "My foot hurts." he added. Hookor twisted his expression, as he knew the man no longer had a foot. He looked down to the man's stump, then back to him.

"It is no longer there." he stated. The man, through his pain, snickered, then winced.

"It may not be, but it still hurts me." he anguished. Hookor nodded, though he struggled hard to understand it.

"Curse of the Phantom." came words from a woman in the darkness of the shadowed room. Hookor turned. It was the man's nurse again. She moved up beside Hookor, to look down at the patient.

"I've seen it many times. The limb is gone, but the mind doesn't know it yet. It is a phantom pain, there in the mind, but not in reality." She said. The fisherman was groaning more, and now began to roll about. She took out a small vial and brought it to his lips. He settled. More Milk of the Poppy.

"Just enough to let him rest a while longer." the nurse said as she re-stoppered the vial. She put it back in one of her pockets, then moved away to do other things again. Hookor turned to follow her.

"Will it go away?" he asked. She stopped, and turned back to him.

"Maybe. I've seen it leave. Some patients live the remainder of their days with it." she said. Hookor nodded, and she slipped out of the room once more. He looked back at the fisherman, and shook his head. Sadness took him for a moment, but then, as always, Hookor committed and catalogued the information in his mind. Once done, he grabbed his mop, and began to clean up once more...

[Rynata]

Name: Hookor

Knowledge:
Medicine: Phantoms Pain
Medicine: Stemming the Flow of Blood
Medicine: Triaging
Surgery: Suturing
Surgery: Amputation
Surgery: Internal Injury and Repair

Loot: N/A
Injuries: N/A
Expenses: N/A
Renown: 5
Magic XP: N/A

Points: 10

- - -

Comments: Nooo, so much suffering. I feel like Hookor might want to join the therapy club after days of this.

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