The healers

For IC events and discussions within the rebuilt Narturlin.

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Postby Plot Bot » Sat Jan 20, 2007 4:43 pm

As he runs toward the town, an older earth elf woman comes into view in front of him. When she sees the girl lying on the floor, she stops, her face visable blanching. "No..." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "How could you?" She runs toward Bartholomew, tears in her eyes, and begins to strike at him, her fists actually connecting with his body. "How could you!?"

---------------------------

Bartholomew wakes slowly, with an earth elf boy of around 20 or so, shaking him. Once he seems awake enough to listen, the boy speaks, a mixture of concern and amusement in his voice and eyes. "Why are you out here? There are perfectly good tents over there." He gestures toward the makeshift shelters most of the inhabitants of Naturlin currently lived in.

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Bogof
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Postby Bogof » Sat Jan 20, 2007 4:57 pm

Bartholemew looks confused for a moment, concern crossing his face. He asks the boy, "There, there hasn't been any....incidents since I slept has there?" He rises from the ground and checks himself, still feeling the thumps from the older earth elf woman from his, dream? No blood, no body nearby. Though slightly releived that it hasn't happened, he non-the-less still thinks that maybe it was much more than just a dream.

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Postby Plot Bot » Sat Jan 20, 2007 6:26 pm

The elf simply laughs. "Nah, you were making enough noise, though. Came over to see who it was."

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Bogof
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Postby Bogof » Sat Jan 20, 2007 8:04 pm

*Concentrates for a minute then straightens up* "Thank you, it must have been a dream," he says not sounding convinced of himself. He wanders back towards Nartulin, a troubled look on his face, preoccupied.

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Bogof
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Postby Bogof » Mon Jan 22, 2007 8:37 pm

Back in the healers pavillion, Bartholemew contemplates the vision as he considers it. Another healer comes in and mentions of disturbances at Pathway, riots and fires mysteriously appearing. Sighing, Bartholemew realises his duty calls him, he cannot spend time in reverie of this. He quickly gathers up potions and bandages and tells the other healers he is going to tend to the injured and maybe stop these fires at Pathway.

He strikes out quickly, purpose in his step.

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Bogof
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Postby Bogof » Fri May 18, 2007 2:16 am

Several long weeks have passed, Bartholemew returns with cowl held low and fingers within his sleeves. He mutters apologies to the healers for the distress they have had to endure without him there, then he finds the small pallet that he used to have there. Curling up on it, he weeps silent tears before sleep takes him.

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Bogof
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Postby Bogof » Sat May 19, 2007 8:31 pm

Bartholemew awakes feeling refreshed, though the bed he was lying on feels, for want of a better word....crackly.

He sits up, finding that it was too quick, he feels light headed for a moment and holds his head in his hands as the memories of the past few days return. Muttering under his breath to himself he says, "Why? I am not divine, I am not worthy, I am just a man. Why!" He grabs his bible and contemplates throwing it away, then he breaks down in tears and drops it at his feet.

The tears do not wash the pink from his eyes, however. After a few minutes of sobbing, a healer hears and enters, concern on his face. Seeing the pink nails, eyes and hair, he is taken aback for a moment, then enters, kneeling down he says, "What has happened? Who did this to you and what can we do to put it right?"

Bartholemew lifts his tear streaked face, looking at the earth elf. Seeing his blood coursing through his veins, the subtle mark of time slowly eating away at this man's body in front of him, no matter how long that would be he still saw its march.

"I.I..did this to myself, pride and arrogance thinking I could wield powers that I were not meant to touch. I have been eternally marked for my sins in the last few days, wielding powers not least among them." He holds his face in his hands, shame written on his features. "Leave me, I am not worthy to be called a monk, a man of god. I must leave, I must!" He thinks for a second about what he has said, spoken or not, and his face becomes a mask of horror. Hurriedly, he rises, grabs everything he can, pushing aside the healer, he leaves the building and hurries into the wilderness.

The healer looks stunned, picking himself up from the floor, he looks down and sees Bartholemew's bible lying on there.

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Gumboots
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Postby Gumboots » Sun May 20, 2007 7:11 pm

*The lunch time after Bartholemew left Kriska came into the healers, she had asked around most places asking if they knew or had seen Bartholemew. One person had told her that he was in the healers another said that he had ran out of Narturlin. She soon found that he had ran out of Narturlin and that he had left his bible behind. Kriska placed it inside her bag along side the parcle that Alberan had given her.*

"I will go and find him, do you know which direction he left in?"

*The person that she was speaking to nodded and pointed down the path that led straight to Dvarni. Kriska's face whitened and she ran off to find help. Time was short and she knew that she had less than 12 hours to catch up on him.*
*Kriska Neptune Molignue, bonded and Dead*

*Zemilia Sraosha Coshwood Ancalimon, Princes Regent of the Earth Elves.*

*Lucy*

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Bogof
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Re: The healers

Postby Bogof » Sat Sep 15, 2007 10:14 pm

Bartholemew returns to the cot that he once vacated, still dirty, and although completely healed, he still walks with a slight limp, as though a bone was not set right. He shys away from the other healers who come over and try to check he is alright. Fear crosses his face for a moment and then tears that these are not high elves intent on torture and pain. He says in a wavering voice, "Thank you for your concerns, I...I..have things that need attending to. First of which is a bath..." A slight lightening of his eyes and a flicker of the hint of a smile flashes briefly over his face as if remembering something, "I would appreciate it if one of you would draw the bath from well water if you please?" He then kneels with difficulty down beside the cot, placing his bible carefully upon it. Clutching his cross in both hands and spending several minutes in silent prayer. Crossing himself and tears running down his face, he is brought back to the here and now by a slight cough as the healer indiates the bath is ready.

Sighing and grunting slightly, Bartholemew rises and enters the small bath house attached to the healers. A private area, he strips and then plunges into the deep barrel that does for a bath here. The water is very cold but clean, but not for long. The acumulated crust of filth that he endured along with everything else is slowly transferred to the water, "cleaning myself is easy," he thinks, "but cleaning my soul and mind might take much longer." He pulls himself out of the now filthly water and stands shivering for a moment, going over the now freshly revealed scars over his body, dark and angry although fully healed, the grime discolouring them as they healed. His face still tender from the brusing, he picks up a towel and dries off. Noticing that a folded cloth is near the hanging curtain to the room. Picking it up he sees that someone mended and cleaned his robes. A little tear in his eye and slight embarissment at forgetting about it. He slips it back on, still wincing at a knotted muscle or two that may never completely return to normal function. Diagnosing himself he knew the prognosis. With a sigh, he thanks the healers, gathers his meagre possesions from the cot, and wishes them well, that he will return one day, and that maybe he will be able to enjoy their company more next time. He then squints as he leaves in the sunshine.


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