Chapter 7: Wherever You May Roam

Verrian shakes Giran's hand. "Strangely fused plant life, animal-human hybrids created by wild magic surges, manticores..." She shrugs. "At least, that's what we saw last time."

Giran stares back at Verrian blankly, holding onto her hand.

"Wait, you're... serious?" he says, dropping Verrian's hand as face losing a bit of color as the realization dawns. "Sun and stars... this does NOT make me feel any better, you realize."

Feeling a little guilty, Verrian sighs and turns to look at the surrounding countryside, hoping to find some fragment of peace.

"It's important to understand that it's not just Hara that changed after the war. Not just governments and institutions that fell. In some parts of the world, there have been unnatural forces that changed whole landscapes and evolved new species practically overnight. Near Viamard, there are occasional magical storms that turn living beings into twisted abominations if they don't take cover in time."

She is silent for a moment. "I was a diplomat before the catastrophe. I regularly dealt with governments at odds or at the brink of armed conflict. This world is far more dangerous than the one I used to know."

Giran runs a hand through his hair. "And I thought the Dockside fires were weird enough."

A thought comes to him suddenly. "Wait... these storms near Viamard... are we taking people into danger? Can we protect them from the storms?"

Verrian turns back to look at him. "Yes, we're taking them into danger, but there's nowhere nearby that isn't dangerous. The land down there can still support agriculture, and there's plenty of space. The people who live there have learned how to cope with the storms. They can teach all of you how life works now. And you'll be able to grow enough food to sustain everyone."

Putting a hand on his arm, she tries to reassure him. "It'll be a different life, but you won't be trapped inside city walls, under the thumb of a corrupt petty tyrant."

Giran nods, his eyes dropping. "Right. You're right," he murmurs, more to reassure himself than to respond to Verrian.

He lifts his eyes once more. "Okay. You undoubtedly have a lot of preparations to take care of, so I'll leave you to it. Safe travels and safer returns, as my grandmother used to say."

Reflecting regretfully that her party responsibilities now seem to include puppy-kicking, Verrian smiles and says, "Be well and be wary. I'll see you in a few days."

Taking her leave of the young man, she finds Coreene and shares a short, heartfelt goodbye with the last Naucan she's likely to see in the near future. That done, she quickly packs her things and goes to the stable to help see to the supplies for their scouting trip.

Coreene wishes Verrian the best of luck, and finds Ember as she is getting ready for her search.

She smiles sadly at the young sorceress. "Ember... I know you wished for me to come with you to the College, but I think it best that I remain at the camp. The magic I have handy today would be of little use during exploration, and I need to be here to heal and watch over the sick and injured."

Ember nods. It's okay. I did everything I could this morning. And I know he's mousey, but Minsarionden might be really helpful. Mince. He's a good man. She pauses. Hey....what's the burn victim's name? I realize I never asked, and I feel bad about that.

A diffident fellow enters the infirmary in the afternoon on the day that the rest of the party has departed on their particular missions. His first concern appears to be for the patients still remaining: he casts a long look over who is still present, who has been released, and a quick check on the conditions of those still here. It's at this point that he spots Coreene.

"Oh!" he says in surprise. "My apologies, madam. I... well, I thought I would..."

He flaps his hands, clearly not even certain what he's trying to say.

"I spoke to a young woman earlier. Ember was her name. About helping? In the infirmary? Maybe she mentioned it. My name is Mince?"

Nearly everything he says is phrased like a question. You can see his forehead starting to break out in a nervous sweat.

"Oh?" Coreene asks, looking at the poor man before her. "So you're the famous Mince?" Now that she was working in the infirmary again, she had her dark hair tied back, and her elegant, some-what pointed face had an almost predatory look to it, a possible side-effect to her short time as an eagle that morning. She shrugs, going back to grinding a poultice together. "I suppose I should accept some help if we are to get these people moving by the time the Hara recon team returns. What healing expertise do you have? Magical? Surgical? Practical?" She asks the questions rapid fire, no longer looking at him as she tends to the wounded, the thick paste she smears on injuries already seeming to bring healthier color to the skin and causes the patient to look less pained.

Mince blinks rapidly a few times. "Famous?" he squeaks. "Oh no. Not famous at all. Not me." He laughs weakly at his weak joke.

He clears his throat and tries again. "Magical. And practical," he says in answer to the question. "I am.. was... maybe still am? a priest of Orien. It seems as though he still graces me with some of his favor in these hard times. But I was a country doctor as much as anything, back in the day. I have some experience with the practical side of medicine."

Clasping his hands over his stomach, he says, "Where do you need me?"

Coreene smiles as she works. "It takes a lot for one to stop being devout. Especially one who would have once called themselves a priest." she muses. She puts down the bowl of salve she held and looked at him."I need you to use whatever gifts Orien is willing to grant you to heal the worst of what we have in here. There are only a few left with major injuries that might prevent them from moving. I am keeping most of them on bedrest to help the healing along." she explains. "The salve I've prepared is to help mitigate scarring and encourage the skin to regrow for the burn victims. I've plenty of it, so feel free to get some if you need it."

Mince's sallow features twitch as though he would respond, but he remains silent and goes to check on those with more dire injuries. His nervous manner melts away at a patient's bedside. He speaks quietly with a woman suffering from a badly broken leg, face drawn with the continued pain. Though she's not able to hold up much of conversation, Mince more than holds up his side, speaking calmly and quietly, but not patronizing. Whatever he says to her manages to elicit a smile, and she nods in response to a question.

Mince reaches a hand out to touch just the tips of his fingers to the woman's upper leg, bows his head and speaks a few words under his breath. The woman lets out a sudden gasp, eyes widening, and she reaches out to grip Mince's shoulder. He looks up again, eyebrows raised in a question, only to see tears of gratitude welling in her eyes. "Thank you," she says, loudly enough to be heard in the rest of the infirmary.

Coreene smiles to herself at the thanks that Mince receives. She would have helped more, but she had exhausted most of her healing spells on those with worse injuries, and the more powerful ones she was holding on to on the off chance that their relative safety in this camp was less than they thought.
She walks by him with more poultice to treat what were now minor burns for this part of the ward. "Well done. I see Orien sees fit to aid us." she tells him, stopping only briefly to admire the handiwork.