Ashes to Ashes - A Mount&Blade: Warband RP

[AurianaValoria1]

The surgeon grunted his thanks to Komolov; having finished picking the mangled steel chain links and fabric bits from Bellatrix's wound, he was ready to wash it with the vodka. He was thankful she was unconscious, as it saved him a great deal of grief not to have to put up with a writhing, howling patient. He kept at his work with an attentive gaze, frowning as he tried his best to treat her well under the circumstances.

 

Meanwhile, the battle was more obviously turning in the Swadians' favor. Of the lords on the Nord side who had participated in this battle, most were captured, including Jarl Haeda. Several Swadian lords had been knocked out or grievously wounded, but were able to escape being dragged away by their opponents. Baron Stamar had taken it upon himself to create a small camp for the wounded, and it was here, only a few hundred yards away from where Mirchaud's crossbowmen defended Bellatrix and Komolov, that many of the Swadian lords and their wounded men lay recovering or nursing their injuries. They were surrounded by sergeants and knights of various lords' colors, prepared to defend the weakened of their number against any Nord stragglers who wished them harm.

 

On the field, the Swadian heavy cavalry was making short work of the Nords who had decided to remain; Ragnar sounded the retreat, but many warriors stayed behind, unwilling to give up the fight. The air was thick with the dust kicked up by the chargers' hooves as they raced around the perimeter of the battlefield, spearing any runners through the back or outright trampling them into the earth. A volley of bolts from the crossbowmen shattered already-weakened shields, and the sergeants made short work of the surviving axemen with their arming swords and claymores.

 

When all was said and done, hundreds of corpses lay in the bare earth, the grass stripped away by foot and hoof. Though there were markedly more Nord losses than Swadian ones, the latter nation still suffered a great number of casualties. Mirchaud remained with the lords who had assisted Klargus for some time, discussing something with animated gestures before rallying his surviving troops and moving back over to where the crossbowmen stood with Komolov and Bellatrix. His men-at-arms were reduced by a third, and only five of his seven knights returned.

 

He rode up to the crossbowmen and removed his helm, his hair sticking to his forehead. Gesturing to Bellatrix, he spoke, his voice cracking from the dryness of his throat, "She should be taken to the camp of the wounded. Better care can be given her there. Let us go."

 

With that, he and his men began to move towards said camp, eager for rest and refreshment now that the immediate threat was finally gone.

[FreemasonGamer]

Komolov freely sighed in relief when he saw that the battle was swiftly reaching its end as the Nords scrambled chaotically while some fled and others faced their doom at the tip of Swadian steel. Also, the Vaegir was relieved when he saw that a camp had already been established by the Swadians for their wounded compatriots, and a slight worry was lifted from his shoulders when Bellatrix was tended to before she was carried off towards the aforementioned camp. Collecting his satchel from the surgeon before he departed, Komolov then noted that the remaining Swadian horsemen were taking their steeds towards a temporary pasture bordering the campsite that steadily grew with each tent that was erected. Shrugging weakly, the Vaegir pinched his bleeding nose before heading back into the forest to retrieve Bourbon.

On his way back from the forest with his gelding steed in tow, Komolov was fortunate enough to loot about a half dozen Nord corpses along the way, obtaining about a handful of denar from each of their stiffened forms. However, the act of looting quickly grew tiresome for Komolov before he simply went directly for the pasture, where his horse would hopefully get some deserved peace. There, the Vaegir briefly nodded to the horseman keeping an eye on the pasture's occupants.

Once Bourbon was put out to pasture with the other magnificent steeds of the Swadians, Komolov glanced to the caretaker of the mentioned steeds before he inquired, "I presume you must know a good share of knowledge about these fine horses... Would you be willing to enlighten a novice horseback rider such as myself with some advice on how to handle and care for them?"

The Swadian raised his eyebrow as he picked his teeth with a bone, "Aye...can ye be a little more specific, lad?"

Beckoning to his own gelding, the Vaegir explained, "My horse wasn't well taken care of by his previous owners, so I'd like to know what I could do to improve his health. Also, I'd appreciate any wisdom on how to avoid being tossed out of the saddle as frequently as I have been recently."

The horseman cocked his head at the Vaegir and then chuckled, "Well...let's see. Ye'll want to feed him some healthy grains and some vegetables if ye can manage to get them. But grain keeps the best on long marches, and its what we feed our chargers. Oats and barley and the like. Ye'll also want to have him shod regularly, and keep his hooves clean of dirt and grime. They can get hoof rot and disease easily through mud-caked feet. I can show ye how later if ye want to do it yerself. Also, make sure his bit doesn't pinch his mouth - keep it clean and undamaged. And make sure ye don't tighten his saddle too tight or be too heavy-handed with the reins. Imagine if someone stuck a metal bar in yer mouth and was yanking on it like a fool...ye wouldn't like it either."

Listening intently to the horseman's advice, Komolov spared a chuckle before nodding firmly. "That'd be true. Thank you, and it would be very helpful if you showed me how to clean my horse's hooves. Whenever it's convenient for you, of course." He confirmed.

"Aye," he nodded, "See me after supper and I'll be tending all of 'em that way."

"Spectacular," the Vaegir concluded, "I'll be happy to return the favor in any fashion possible."

[GrueMaster]

Aidan sighed as more wounded were brought into the camp. This is going to be a long day... he remarked silently as he worked on a knight's slashed arm; it was just past midday and already the physicians were hard-pressed to save and treat the injured troops from the fresh battle. Cleaning the wound and wrapping fresh bandages on it, the "bone smith" (as a few of the other surgeons have called him) moved on the next patient, a woman with what was clearly an ax wound. "Well, better get to work here..."

 

Removing the torn armor and clothing and setting down a sheet to preserve what modesty of hers he could, Aidan went about cleansing the wound more thoroughly with clean linens and freshly boiled water (Aidan always insisted on having such on hand, much to the chagrin of the poor servant assigned to assist him), throwing away the soiled bandages afterwards. "Come on, bloody girl, stop bleeding..." Aidan cursed as his face twisted in annoyance at the offending area of the wound that would not cease bleeding. Reaching into his precious bag of herbal remedies, he took out a small pouch, one filled with powdered agrimony, and sprinkled it onto the wound until it finally stopped losing blood. Once certain that the bleeding was stopped, Aidan once again cleaned the wound and then began to apply an antiseptic tincture made from goldenseal root to help speed along healing and prevent any infections as well. Finished with treating the inside of the injury, he finally began to painstakingly stitch the wound closed, until at last, he was done.

 

Placing a bandage on the stitched area and then wrapping clean linens around it until he was certain movement would not disturb the wound, Aidan stepped back and sighed contently at his work. Now then... time to see if we can't wake you and see what hurts... Rolling the woman onto her back slowly as to avoid disturbing the sheet she now had on her, the surgeon took out a small vial of smelling salts and held it under her nose to revive her...

Edited August 20, 2015 by GrueMaster

[AurianaValoria1]

Bellatrix's first sense was a horridly strong smell that was right under her nose. Her lip curled and she coughed, shaking her head as she sluggishly clawed her way out of unconsciousness.

 

Her second sense was a throbbing pain in her shoulder and a chill as she realized she only had a sheet around her. Her eyes popped open, and they met those of her healer with surprise and fear.

 

"What?! Who ar- oh..." she glanced around, reaching for a weapon that wasn't there before realizing that she was in the Swadian camp.

[GrueMaster]

"Calm down, madam," Aidan said, lifting his hands to show he was unarmed and peaceful. "I am Aidan Airdsgainne, a surgeon here in the Swadian camp. You were wounded in the earlier battle and brought here for treatment." He began explaining as he turned around to grab a mortar and pestle and started work on a potion. "Seems someone mistook you for a log...went clean through your armor and clothes, which were removed so I may be better to treat said injury. They are there in the corner when you feel up to dressing yourself."

 

The man reached for willow bark and started powdering it before speaking again. "I have done what I could to treat the wound, made sure sure that all of the debris has been removed and the injured area cleaned and dressed. Kept the stitches small, if that is a concern of yours. Oh that reminds me," the bone smith paused for a moment, suddenly remembering something. "I smelled some of that vaegir-style drink--vodka, I think it's called-- in the wound; seems someone helped keep the wound clean before you arrived here. You may want to thank whoever did that.... Anyway..."

 

Done with making the powder, Aidan poured it into a small bowl of warm water and added a dollop of honey to the mixture before stirring it well. "I reckon you are still in some pain, so here is a potion for you to drink to help relieve it. Before you do that and leave my care, however, I need to check what else is wrong, if there is indeed anything wrong. So, to begin, would you please tell me your name and the last thing you remember before falling unconscious?" He began, first checking to make sure there were no serious injuries to the head...

Edited August 20, 2015 by GrueMaster

[FreemasonGamer]

When his conversation with the horseman was finished, the battered Vaegir began to wander throughout the Swadian camp as the afternoon progressed, the dull soreness and pain in his neck and the left side of his face worsening steadily. Within minutes, his left jaw, cheekbone, and broken nose were discolored wretched shades of violet as bruises of similar coloration in the shapes of hand prints became visible around his neck. On a less critical yet still uncomfortable note, his clothes were splattered with drying Nord blood. Evaluating his condition, the Vaegir tenderly rubbed his sore arms as he continued his aimless stroll, lost in his thoughts.

 

As much as it pained him, both literally and metaphorically, Komolov knew he would have to receive some form of care to help quicken his recovery from the swift but bloody brawl he had with the Nord. Although, he also made another realization as he loitered among the soldiers and servants of the encampment: how long could their mercenary group go one like this? Bellatrix was already severally injured, and Komolov himself was much worse off than he was that morning. Contemplating his options, the Vaegir decided to find somewhere peaceful to sit down and compose a letter, of all things to do. Finally taking a sit on a stump, he dug through his satchel and retrieved a quill, corked inkpot, and a spare bit of parchment.

 

With cluttered, compressed handwriting, Komolov wrote to his companions in Ayyike whom he had grown up knowing and accompanying on countless hunting trips. They had been friends since childhood, and Komolov knew that they are opportunists like himself and were also skillful bowmen. In his letter, the Vaegir warned his friends of the dangers associated in fighting for their mercenary band, but he also included details on the wealth of opportunities for rewards and personal gain. Once he had filled the parchment with text explaining what all was at stake and ripe for the taking, Komolov finally signed it with his narrow signature before folding the parchment and chasing down one of the many messengers occupying the Swadian camp.

 

"Take this to Ayyike and tell these men to come if they wish to join our cause." Komolov said to the courier boy, who was only fourteen or so years old, informing him of his friends' names before sending him off.

 

Feeling hopeful that his fellow huntsmen of Ayyike would heed his call, Komolov sighed before finally wandering off into the collection of camps, seeking out a physician who was available to hopefully offer something to help his swollen pain.

[josh900]

Away from the chaos and horrors of battle, the village of Amere was already showing signs of recovery. With the aid of Cair's group, a small storehouse had already been erected and filled with the food and goods that both he and the local lord had provided for the people, as well as the beginnings of a wall of sorts.

With so much going on, Cair simply wandered around the village, unsure of what project to focus on, and so he simply helped out with whatever he saw.

[AurianaValoria1]

Bellatrix's head had started to throb, and she lay back against the cot, reaching up with her good arm to rub her temples, "My name is Bellatrix de l'Aeryngton. The last thing I remember before blacking out is...horrible pain in my shoulder. I remember falling from my horse, and then someone picking me up. They must have been close by to see me fall...it was no time at all until they reached me. After that, nothing."

[GrueMaster]

Aidan nodded his head, pleased at the response. "That's good, Bellatrix... doesn't seem you received any serious hurt to your head." Seeing her beginning to rub her temples, though, prompted him to proceed. "Well, everything seems to be in order. Here," he said, handing the potion to Bellatrix. "This will help with the pain. It may not be the most pleasing drink to taste, but, trust me, you'll likely regret not taking it."

 

Gathering his medical kit and supplies, Aidan started to leave. "Now, you'll likely won't be able to swing that arm of yours for at least a day, so don't go thinking of charging into the front lines or anything like that. I won't cater to fools who injure themselves. Be sure to see me tomorrow so I can check up on that injury. Until then, I take my leave. There are others who need tending." With a polite nod, Aidan turned and left, leaving Bellatrix to rest.

 

The bone smith hadn't taken five paces, however, when he noticed a young man that clearly had the shite beaten out of him and was obviously looking for one of the physicians. "Hoy, lad!" Aidan called out to him. "Come here and have a seat, let me take a look at that face of yours... looks bloody awful..."

[FreemasonGamer]

Komolov cast his gaze towards the bone smith and gave him a brief nod, sparing a shallow grunt that might have passed for a weakened chuckle had the Vaegir not been pained by his beaten, aching countenance. Wandering towards the physician's side, Komolov then look a seat upon a nearby mossy log—one of many that had been brought into the Swadians' encampment as improvised benches. Glancing at Aiden to his left, the Vaegir replied almost sarcastically to the man's remark on his bloodied and battered features, "It can happen after taking a few Nord fists..."

 

Rubbing his eyes gingerly, he glanced among the infirmary tents all around him and at the countless individuals maneuvering among them: physicians, servants, warriors, the injured and the dying. Shivering slightly, Komolov then focused upon the bone smith once more. "Got anything that might help my case?" The Vaegir asked with fatigued reluctance riding his tone.