The private nodded. "Let's get moving, then." He turned his back to the campfire and gave that flick of his raised wrist again: Let's go. Let's go, go, go.
"Thal's Ball, how many times? 'Corporal, you're an idiot,' I say. 'Quit mucking about with your health,' I say. But does she listen? Noooooooo." The Seeker scrunched up his face and proceeded to squeak out words in a tone and pitch more suited to the Lalafell he was attending. "Turns to me and goes, 'Private, I will do as I must.' 'Private, desperate times call for desperate measures.' Desperate measures? Ha. Demented lunacy, is what I call it."
There are two kinds of field surgeons; Private Second Class Niles Ebner was of the sour sort, and it showed. He had stripped the little corporal out of her armor, laid her down on the cot, and tended to her... roughly. Even now, as he leaned over her to administer a potion, he was none too gently about tilting her head back, pinching her cheeks until her mouth opened, pouring the concoction in, and stroking her throat until it went down.Â
He looked up at Xydane and Gregson, his tail twitching this way and that.
"She'll be fine, this time," he spat in an irritated tone, "but she can't keep doing this. I'm a field surgeon, not a white mage of the Padjal." His eyes flickered towards the back of their little chamber here at Dragonhead, where a young hyur midlander stood at attention. "Jekkels can brief you. Leave me to my patient, morons."
Gregson rolled his eyes, then led Xydane over to the other private. "Report."
A nice, crisp Flame salute. "Sure thing, Karl-- I mean, ser. Yes ser. Um. Was at my post, just due east of the Gates when a cart rolled out, ser. Kept an eye on things, like you asked, and that's why I saw it-- saw him. That's why I saw him. Looked highlander, I think, but, uh... starved... emaciated, that's the word. Long locks, didn't get a good look at the color. Poor bastard looked miserable. Came this way, he did, and you sent Ebner and I and the boys here, and, well...."
"Out with it already."
"The descriptions match, ser. Mynhier was here, and he headed south bells ago."
Gregson glanced over at Xydane. "He's headed home on his own."
"Thal's Ball, how many times? 'Corporal, you're an idiot,' I say. 'Quit mucking about with your health,' I say. But does she listen? Noooooooo." The Seeker scrunched up his face and proceeded to squeak out words in a tone and pitch more suited to the Lalafell he was attending. "Turns to me and goes, 'Private, I will do as I must.' 'Private, desperate times call for desperate measures.' Desperate measures? Ha. Demented lunacy, is what I call it."
There are two kinds of field surgeons; Private Second Class Niles Ebner was of the sour sort, and it showed. He had stripped the little corporal out of her armor, laid her down on the cot, and tended to her... roughly. Even now, as he leaned over her to administer a potion, he was none too gently about tilting her head back, pinching her cheeks until her mouth opened, pouring the concoction in, and stroking her throat until it went down.Â
He looked up at Xydane and Gregson, his tail twitching this way and that.
"She'll be fine, this time," he spat in an irritated tone, "but she can't keep doing this. I'm a field surgeon, not a white mage of the Padjal." His eyes flickered towards the back of their little chamber here at Dragonhead, where a young hyur midlander stood at attention. "Jekkels can brief you. Leave me to my patient, morons."
Gregson rolled his eyes, then led Xydane over to the other private. "Report."
A nice, crisp Flame salute. "Sure thing, Karl-- I mean, ser. Yes ser. Um. Was at my post, just due east of the Gates when a cart rolled out, ser. Kept an eye on things, like you asked, and that's why I saw it-- saw him. That's why I saw him. Looked highlander, I think, but, uh... starved... emaciated, that's the word. Long locks, didn't get a good look at the color. Poor bastard looked miserable. Came this way, he did, and you sent Ebner and I and the boys here, and, well...."
"Out with it already."
"The descriptions match, ser. Mynhier was here, and he headed south bells ago."
Gregson glanced over at Xydane. "He's headed home on his own."