WG - The Mystery of the Poisoned Healer Options

[Grits]

(Continued from approximately here.)



Abiene in Chorrol

Eyja explained what would be needed for a complete recovery. “For the amount of metal you've been exposed to, you may need to keep taking it several times daily for at least a week, and do a restorative healing on yourself several times per day as well. The raw ingredients work better and quicker if you can stand the bitter taste. The potions are flavored, but are much weaker.”

Abiene started to reply. “I can stand the taste, but I’m sure an alchemist will be better able to…” Several times per day? She pressed her fingers against her face again, fighting down that frantic feeling. “I have patients to tend! I won’t be able to— I’m already taking far too many magicka potions just to keep up my workload. There’s nothing for it, I’ll have to ask for a leave of absence from the chapel.” She clenched her fists on her knees, anger creeping up through her fear. “Darn whoever did this!”

Eyja handed Abiene a list of ingredients. “Expect to be near an urn for a while,” she told Abiene. Then Eyja tucked her materials away.

Great, thought Abiene. I’m not going to go through a week of purging on the pot in my chapel quarters. She put that concern away for now and looked at the list.

Garlic
Sunflower seeds
Pumpkin seeds
Flax seed oil
Corkbulb root
Netch Leather
Scrib Jelly
Scamp skin
Kwama cuttle
Ash yam
The juice of a lemon
Dried seaweed
Charcoal

“Abiene, I need you to remember exactly how long you were at the inn, who you saw there, who brought you that tea, and if it was the same person you ordered it from,” said Eyja.

Abiene tried to clear her thoughts. “I reached the inn after dark and spent the night. There was a commotion when Irvana arrived with talk of vampires, and I ended up healing her in her chamber. I had a glass of Tamika’s last night with the stuffed mushrooms, plus a cheese plate with strawberries. This morning I ate a sweet roll and drank some kahve at the bar. A Dunmer woman was there, I didn’t catch her name. She was another guest. Lycus was sitting there, too. Yetta the cook and Lleris the hallboy were serving, but I got my breakfast from what was already set out on the bar. Bograk and Aravi were there, too. Oh, and I believe Kayla headed upstairs around the time I came down with Aravi. Honestly Eyja, I’m probably forgetting someone. I’ve been told to improve my situational awareness, but I’m not really sure what that even means.”

She hoped Eyja wasn’t too disgusted with her lack of information. She had not been paying attention at the inn because she had not been up to anything she felt she needed to hide. And Aravi’s troubles had been foremost in her mind.

“Then I got some tea from Yetta and went outside. I spoke with Dar’muktah and watched Lowren and the Argonian man cleaning up after the storm. Then I met Maxical. We sat on the bench chatting for a while. We have some mutual friends.” What happened next? “I must have been in a fog, because I can’t say how long we sat there or even what we talked about. I don’t really remember getting my things from the inn, but I must have.”

Abiene looked at the list again. “I can pick up a few of these things today at the chapel. Master Selvilo might have some of them, he’s a Dunmer. I can’t imagine why he would have netch leather, though. I’ll need to pick up my crystal ball so I can try to reach Darnand. He’ll know where Jerric is. That’s the alchemist.” She shook her head. “I hate to involve them in this.”

Abiene’s mouth went dry and her heart began to race. Perhaps that’s still the poison, she thought, gripping the bench’s edge.

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This post has been edited by Grits: Aug 24 2013, 04:01 PM

[mALX]

*


Cloud Top:


http://up1.joystick.ru/i/0/5e7bbc2.jpg



Eyja:

Eyja downed a good-sized gulp of the liquor, glad for the strength it gave her. She held the hackle-lo awkwardly, not sure how to use it. The smoking end wafted a scent that reminded her of Seth. She tentatively put it in her mouth, then took it back out. Was he sucking on it? She tried again, this time sucking on the end in her mouth.

“HUACK! HUACK! KA KA KA!” Eyja doubled over, pointing at her back. Someone whacked it hard for her, but through her tearing bleary eyes she didn’t see who had done it.

She stubbed out the hackle-lo and took another gulp of the liquor, letting the warm liquid trickle down and sooth her throat after the hackle-lo.

Eyja pulled off her dirty cuirass and tossed it against the nearest pillar, tugging the undershirt below it loose from her skin. She lay down beside Maxical, gently petting the hair back from her face.

It had been a long time since Maxical had been this ill, years. Everything with her seemed to come around full circle, this was one she’d hoped never to see again.






*





Maxical:


The large soft mound cushioning her head felt like it moved. Maxical’s eyes opened to a distorted blur of pink.

“Am I in the dreamsleeve?” She reached up and touched the pink mounds. “No…just Eyja’s breasts.” She pushed feebly against them. “Get them out of my face, they’re taking all my air.”

“I smell Gils...I think I saw him, but...” She turned her head and saw it again, the blurred vision of gleaming black hair, so near it felt like she could touch it. But the face wasn’t Gils, unless...was that a tattoo one got after dying?

Maxical tried to sit up, but her stomach felt torn in two. The Dunmer helped someone lay her gently down. While he was leaned over her something about the tattoo struck a chord of memory. She gently traced the outline of the tattoo with one finger and it came back to her, the poem of Mephala from the Blasphemes. She whispered it aloud, looking into the Dunmer’s eyes.

“Mephala the Webspinner thrives; on murder, sex, and lies. Threading needles with the hair of wives; weaving plots from the Aedra with mortals' lives. You‘re Black Hand...for me?”

Her hand dropped down and caught his wrist. “Please, sit by me first with your brandy and hackle-lo. I just want to smell it one more time. My husband smelled the same.”

The condition she was in, if he was here to take her out she couldn’t fight it; just hoped he’d grant her that last wish; to smell the brandy and smoke filling her nostrils...so familiar. So long since she’d smelled the two together.

She closed her eyes, but clung to that wrist with what strength she could muster, breathing as deeply as her lungs would take in the aroma of brandy on his breath; of the faint aroma of hackle-lo that clung to the cloth in his armor.

Before the weakness took her over she pulled his hand to her, rubbing the back of his hand against her cheek to feel the tears there.

“Thank you.” She let go of his hand, unable to find the strength to hold it anymore.

Inside her stomach burned like an inferno raged, and worse than that was the incessant throbbing need for that cream, her whole body ached in need of it. Where was that man that had given it to her...



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This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 3 2013, 09:01 AM