Outracing the Flames RPG

[Child of the 7th Age]

Nevtaliel listened carefully to Leod's description of Sythric's behavior. It reminded her of another Elf she had cared for some years ago when she and her husband had journeyed to the East. The Elf they had encountered on the road was acting in a manner almost identical to that described by the human healer: slipping in and out of a strange dreamlike state. And, like Sythric, this Elf had fallen prey to the weapon of an Easterling, a sharp curved blade that had gashed him in the leg.

"I am not certain about your friend." the Elven healer replied. "But I do have one idea. Let me examine the man more closely." By this time Sythric had let go of the rock and settled back on the ground, his face riddled with exhaustion and pain. He did not pull back when Nevtaliel extended her hand and gently stroked his brow.

"Leod, Dorran had already mentioned to me that your group had fought for the entire day, and that you had to stitch up the wounds in evening, with very little light other than that provided by the smoldering coals in the firepit. You could barely see what you were doing."

Leod nodded mutely in agreement, a look of discomfort flitting across his face as he remembered thinking that he could not do his best work if he could not see the wounds properly.

"You did the best you could in trying circumstances," Nevtaliel added reassuringly. "No one could ask for more. And you had no idea of the devious weapons that the Easterlings employ. Now go over to the campfire and collect the two pots that Meghan has prepared and bring them back to me. While you are gone, I am going to pull out your stitches and have a look at the wound again. If my guess is right, there may still be a tiny sliver from the blade left inside. I'll try and explain then what I think has happened."

Carefully, Nevtaliel removed the stitches and peered closely at the wound. She took a pointed silver probe from her bag and cautiously searched about. It took her several minutes of close inspection. The small fragment was not easy to find, and it was no wonder that Leod had neglected to see it in the grey shadows of the campfire. She removed the piece and set it on the ground being careful not to touch it.

When Leod came back, he looked down in embarassment to see a small fragment of the blade that had broken off. Impulsively, he reached out to touch it but was immediately stopped by the Elf. "No, you mustn't. Have Dorran or one of the others dig a small pit to dispose of it at the edge of the camp. We must cover it over for it can still do great harm to whoever comes upon it."

She then went on to explain, "You see, it is the custom of some Easterlings to poison the tip of their swords and spears and even to have them constructed in such a way that a minute fragment breaks off once the weapon enters the skin. That tiny piece of metal is smeared with a deadly ungent that brings not healing but a slow and painful death. Now that this fragment is gone, I shall clean the wound with the kingsfoil mixture and put another steaming pot of the herb near Sythric so that he may take in its healing scent. Other than that, Leod, we can only wait and hope. Only time will tell if Sythric is strong enough to battle the ill effects of the poison. Even now the foul stuff is coursing through his body. There is nothing that I can do to stop that. But at least the source of the evil has been removed. He is the one who must struggle with the shadow and pull himself back to life."

"I would not be surprised to see his condition worsen tonight. By morning, the poison should have done its worst, and we will know whether or not he will return to life."