• Memory • Twisted Wings and Things (Doran)

[Rorom]

20th Saun 714

Rorom was sailing into port at Ne'haer, riding the current leading into the city, lowering his sails and tying knots. A day out to sea, he'd come across a bird, an albatross of all things. The poor beast had been floating in the water, minding its business when Rorom's ship rammed it's wing, causing injury.

Having noticed this, the Biqaj man had little choice but to take the Albatross on. Harming birds of such a kind was a great sacrilege to sailors, as they were thought to be good luck, and especially a good omen to find one for exploring type, as one could tell whether they come back or not if they were close to land.

This one wouldn't be going anywhere. It had scrapes from the razor sharp barnacles and a potentially broken wing. In truth, Rorom was quite upset about the situation. He might have to lay up on shore for a while if the bird didn't recover. Broken wings could be difficult from his experience.

His ship drifted into port, as he worked the rudder to make sure he made a good and accurate landing beside one of the piers.

The bird he had placed on a comfortable hay pillow, which he imagined must've felt like a nest, with a feast of fish under it's beak in case it wished to feed. Also to encourage it to stay and keep it calm.

He arrived beside the pier, and immediately dropped anchor to stop the ship. Once this was done, he tied the Crag Dodger to two of the posts holding up the wooden structure of the pier, securing it there, and making sure it didn't get jostled too much by troubled waters. With that finished, he lifted the anchor with a bit of effort, and laid it on the boat.

He didn't make eye contact with the bird, but genuflected in its general direction as a blessing, hoping that the god of seas or storms would preserve its health until he could find medical attention for it. He did raise a small canvas to partially hide view of the bird, in case there were any mischief makers about.

From there, he went on to step onto the pier. It often felt like a drastic shift to go from being on a vessel shifting its motions with the tides, waters, winds and currents, to solid land. Somewhat disorienting. Nevertheless, he'd done this at least a hundred times before, and so went on to the fishery.

His buyer/boss at the fishery was there, ready to accept whatever Rorom had to offer for a trifle of wealth. But instead of placing his catch at the boss' feet, he merely asked in common, "'Ave an injuried crewsire. Need a medicine sire."

[Doran]

The Mortalborn had resided in Ne’haer for the better part of a decade now, helping out at the hospital as well creating potions and furthering his knowledge of alchemy and chemistry. He found the city pleasant, all in all, and much more visually appealing than his last home, Etzos, despite the fact that he had nearly lost his life there, almost four centuries prior at the hands of a man who sought to flay him and taste divinity.

The port had become one of his favourite places in the city. The heat that bothered Ne’haer during the summer months was less noticeable there as there was always a light breeze coming from the sea. That trial he was not simply here to enjoy the sea though, but to make a few much needed purchases. There were parts of certain fish that had curative properties and that he could use for potions that he would be able to sell for a profit.

There was one merchant especially that often set a few fish or other sea creatures aside for him in exchange for the odd bit of medical advice or a salve that helped lessen the pain in his arthritic joints for a few breaks. Unfortunately, he noticed as he approached him, he already had a customer, a Biqaj by the looks of it who had some sort of problem.

He was still weighing the advantages and disadvantages of offering his help to a complete stranger that might have little to give to him against each other, when the merchant, hearing that Rorom required medicine for his injured crew member, pointed straight at him and proclaimed, smiling brightly, “He’s a doctor or an apothecary of some sort. He can help you. He gave me something that did wonders for my joints!”

Upon hearing that, the Mortalborn, who was, as usually, garbed in coal and crimson, stepped forward, as if he had wanted to do get involved and play the part of the good samaritan all along and inquired, in a tone that was polite, albeit a hint cool, “What ails your companion? As the good man said, I do indeed have some skill in medicine.” Having said that, he looked around for a moment, furrowing his brow slightly as he did so, before his gaze came to rest on Rorom’s face once more. “Where is he though? I cannot see him. Is he waiting on your boat?”

[Rorom]

Rorom looked from the fishery boss toward Doran, and bowed his head, "I Rorom."

"Yah, crew sire down at the pier, not move. Cut from barnacles and maybe a broken, eh..." Rorom tried to demonstrate by flapping his left arm, pantomiming a broken left arm. He didn't want to say much more than this, lest it get out soon that he'd nearly killed an albatross. It was not just plain bad luck to do so, but also damaging to the reputation. "I barter for medicine gold, maybe barter something from boat. Very please?" Common was clearly a difficult language for him, but hopefully got the point across. "I show you where. Come? I give anything save ship for medicine."

In any case, it wouldn't do any good to stand here if the man wasn't willing to help, so he went off away from the fishery, back toward the piers. He waved an arm widely hoping he had convinced the man to help him or else awakened his curiosity.

In any event, once Rorom reached the boat, he'd sweep aside the canvas to reveal the large bird that'd taken up residence on his deck, and then step carefully onto the ship so as not to startle the creature. He knelt beside it, pointing to it's left wing, which was broken at several points, and bleeding from some small cuts. The damage wasn't all that bad, but would undoubtedly get worse if it wasn't treated.

"Low luck, harming Albatross." Rorom spoke softly, "Cast out from sea if beast die."

And it wasn't as if Rorom didn't have some sense of empathy for the beast, but his major concern was that this could anger the Immortals enough that his life at sea would be in jeopardy.

[Doran]

„Doran“, the Mortalborn replied. Since Rorom had decided not to give him his last name, if he had one at all, he decided not to do so either. The man’s Common was bad, he observed, and he seemed to be as much a stranger to that part of Idalos as he had once been. He could not help but wonder where he had originally come from and whether he could have an interesting story to tell. Unlike others in his position Doran had little issues mingling with those from a lesser background, if there was something to be gained.

“A broken arm?” he guessed as the Biqaj flapped his arm. The gesture looked fairly ridiculous in his opinion, but it was at least effective. “How does one break an arm on a boat in the middle of the ocean?” he inquired, raising a dark eyebrow slightly for Rorom’s story made little sense to him. “Did he fall from the crow’s nest?” That was the only explanation that seemed halfway plausible to him. Either way, he thought, a broken arm would be relatively easy to fix unless Rorom was keeping something from him.

“I’m not interested in your ship”, he informed the Biqaj in a tone that was perhaps slightly too harsh. “And neither do I care for gold. Seaweed or fish on the other hand would be appreciated.” He did not explain why he wanted such things, although it would probably seem strange to most that a man would forego nels in favour of something that others threw away. It was, he decided, none of Rorom’s business.

With that thought in mind he followed Rorom to his boat at a relatively brisk pace, silently cursing himself for the fact that he had forgotten most of his medical supplies at home. There was little that could be done about that now though, and thus he concentrated on the things he could do. He waited for what he thought would be an injured sailor to step forward …

… only to find an albatross instead. For perhaps the first time in several trials genuine surprise was visible on the Mortalborn’s face. “You brought me here to help a bird?” Men and women he pitied occasionally, but he could not care less about animals such as this one as they served little purpose. But then again, he was already there, and it would take little time to fix its wing. “Very well, I will help your pet. I will need a piece of clean cloth though and something to cut it into strips with. The wing will have to be immobilized until it has healed.”

[Rorom]

"Crow's nest? No, I float a sloop." But Rorom got the drift, heights were an issue for sailors, even those on sloops who often enough had to climb the mast to catch a better view of the horizon.

When Doran mentioned his lack of need for gold or goods, Rorom was glad, he had little to offer in truth. But what Doran did confess to want, Rorom had in spades on his ship. "I have many different fish. You take all you want. If you need something other, I find it." In his haste to seek medical attention, he'd left much of his catch on the deck, and there Doran would find a cornucopia of all manner of marine life, mostly fish of various kinds but also maybe a few crabs in cages, clams in buckets and a barrow.

Rorom lowered his hands and head toward Doran, in a gesture of profuse thankfulness when he agreed to treat the bird. "Thank you." He did wonder about the man's knowledge of animal kind, but wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. If the fish-monger vouched for him, that was good enough for the mariner.

When Doran told him what he needed, Rorom went about collecting all the materials. There was a peice of linen that had ripped at a particularly strong gust of wind the other night, and so Rorom cut it carefully along it's length, cutting it off just before the tie-off at the horizontal peice of wood that kept it aloft. He then took the knife he used to cut the linen from the sail, as well as the folded up cloth, palms up to Doran.

"Red sky and fortune to you." he said simply, reciting one of the few blessings known to him. It was taught by sailors who'd imparted what they knew of the common language. "And apologies for my bad tongue, common very bad for me."

[Doran]

Truth to be told, the Mortalborn’s experience with animals was small to non-existent, but most of the principles that applied to treating the broken bones of humanoid beings applied to treating those of animals as well, and thus he saw no need to inform Rorom that he was not a veterinarian and never would be. While he waited for the Biqaj to bring him the things that he required, he took some time to inspect the man’s latest catch. There were a few fish and crabs that looked as if they had potential, he decided.

As Rorom recited his blessing, he inclined his head, thus letting the man know that he appreciated it before he remarked, “Perhaps you might be willing to tell me the meaning of it after I have treated your pet. It seems strange to me to wish for a red sky. Is it a common blessing where you come from, Rorom?” The only time he had ever seen a red sky had been at dawn or at dusk, when the suns had been about to set. Perhaps Rorom wished for him to see another trial rather than drowning somewhere at sea, like so many sailors that had set sails from Ne‘haer?

It could be the case, he thought and pulled on a pair of thin black leather gloves that he had carried in his bag. He did not know whether there was anything wrong with Rorom‘s albatross besides its broken wing and those few cuts. His longevity, he had come to realize, did unfortunately not translate to superior health and resistance to diseases.

“Hold it still with both hands while I take a look at it”, he ordered the Biqaj as he knelt down in front of the albatross and inspected the cuts on its wings, carefully removing any dirt and feathers that he could see. Despite the fact that he cared little about animals, he worked quickly and efficiently and made sure that he would not miss a thing.

“I will also need some alcohol to sterilize the cuts before I bandage them and treat the break itself to prevent an infection”, he decided and briefly looked up at Rorom. The strips of linen that the man had brought him were reasonably clean, he thought. “The alcohol that you usually drink will do”, he added, assuming that the Biqaj had a weakness for wine and ale, like so many people of his trade. “If you do not have alcohol, water will be acceptable. Water will at least allow me to clean the cuts.”

“Your Common is adequate”, he remarked curtly as Rorom apologized to him. He thought that it was strange that so many people of mortal blood had a tendency to apologize for anything and everything. It was an attitude that the son of Ziell did not share. “What is your native language though?”

[Rorom]

"Red Sky is promise made Immortal of Storms. Bad in morning, good at night. One way or other, our backside covered in any outcome." Rorom allowed himself to snicker through his concern for the bird.

For the first time since finding the medicine man from the fishery, the mariner took a moment to size him up. There was definitely something different about him, although he couldn't put his finger on what set him apart from others he met on a regular basis. He seemed very formal, yet Rorom himself had been overcome with concern until this point. Perhaps it was on him to lighten the mood. He shrugged to himself.

In either case, he knelt down beside the albatross, holding it with both hands as instructed though his other hand strayed from the left wing, to avoid injuring it further. He nudged a piece of fish under its beak, hoping to distract it from the treatment which could be painful for the beast.

Liquor was a luxury Rorom wasn't often in a position to enjoy, although he did have a few sips of luck left in his canteen, which contained whiskey. He gave this over readily, taking his other hand away from the bird for a moment to fetch it from his belt. Then he resumed his hold over the bird. When asked about his language, he answered with some hope evident in his voice, "Rikahi. Tongue of Biqaj."

[Doran]

“It is good to have one’s back covered“, the Mortalborn agreed with Rorom. He took one of the strips of linen that the Biqaj had given to him, crumpled it up and drenched it in alcohol. “Perhaps you could try and distract the bird again“, he suggested, remembering that Rorom had fed it a piece of fish when he had removed the dirt from the wound. It had been, as far as he was concerned, quite an ingenious idea. “This part of the procedure will be even more unpleasant for the bird than the previous one. It might panic and try to attack us. It can cause serious harm with its beak, and I have little interest in treating another patient.“

Having said that, he carefully cleaned the cuts, expecting Rorom to follow his orders and do his part of course. He inspected the broken wing closely to find out where exactly the injury was located and gently placed it against the bird’s body in what he thought was its natural position.

“The bird must not move at all now“, he informed Rorom as he took a large strip of cloth and wrapped it over the broken wing and completely around the albatross‘ body, tightly, but not tightly enough to restrict its breathing. He decided not to cover the wing that was still functional so that the bird would be able to move it, even if it would not be able to fly.

“I’m done“, he let Rorom know as he rose to his feet and inspected his work one last time. It was, he thought, more than adequate, especially considering that he did not normally treat such creatures. “I do not know how long it will take for the break to heal, but I would suggest that you keep the bird on your boat for at least a month. The bandages should be changed every couple of trials, and you need to provide it with food and water as it will not be able to hunt.“

“I speak a little Rakahi“, he said in a heavily accent voice as he pulled his gloves off and put them away. They would have to be cleaned later on. “I learned it from a man in Andaris, about half a decade ago“, he explained in case Rorom was curious and switched back to the Common tongue that he was more comfortable with. In truth his encounter with that man had been several lifetimes prior, and his grasp of the language was not what it had once been anymore as a consequence. “Despite that I know very little about your people, I admit. Perhaps you might be willing to tell me more about them sometimes?“

“You said that I could have some of your fish“, he added, lest the man forgot that he had offered to give him something in exchange for his help. Even if he did not care about money, his services were never free.

[Patrick]

Name: Rorom

Knowledge:

• Albatross: A Good Omen to Sailors
• Animal Husbandry: Providing for Wounded Albatross
• Doran: A Doctor and Apothecary
• Doran: Has No Desire for Gold
• Sailor's Custom: Red Sky
• Animal Husbandry: Distracting a Wounded Animal for Treatment

Loot: None
Injuries: None
Fame: None
Magic: These points cannot be used for magic.

Story: 4/5
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5


Name: Doran

Knowledge:

• Ne'haer: Pleasant Both Spiritually and Visually
• Rorom: A Sailor
• Rorom: Wants You to Mend a Wounded Albatross
• Sailor's Custom: Red Sky
• Medicine: Using Alcohol or Water to Clean Cuts
• Medicine: Bandaging a Broken Wing
• Rorom: Native Tongue is Rikahi

Loot: None
Injuries: None
Fame: +1 for helping a local sailor and his bird!
Magic: These points cannot be used for magic.

Story: 5/5
Collaboration: 5/5
Structure: 5/5

Comment: A shame this one came short when it seemed interesting, I was enjoying the interaction between Doran and Rorom. Good work with the content you got so far though! I believe there weren't any mistakes on your behalf Doran, so keep up the good work.

Rorom I deduced a point because its an abandoned thread, other then that you've got good solid form. Definitely had me wracking my brain over that Red Sky myth for a while, so that was a fun thing to try and look into.