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Post by Maester Percival on Sept 21, 2016 3:25:44 GMT
Percival looked to Karl the apothecary. "Frank, I need more light to examine this more closely. Fetch it quickly and gold it right here." The Maester waited until the wounds was better lit before returning to his work with the pen. Though when the light came near Percival turned his eyes back to study the injured man's reaction to light.
Percival looked back to the other man. "Is he helpful to have as a worker? Or is he a drain on your household?" He asked thoughtfully. "And he has had no reaction to anything beside food? Has he acted violently? Does he sleep the same as before?"
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The Raven
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Post by The Raven on Sept 24, 2016 3:28:30 GMT
He paused to consider these questions, as though he was being asked what color a certain floorplank was after treading on it for years. "No violence, Maester. He was a rowdy one prior, but not now. And he sleeps the same way. Even has the same snore. I mean, he was never going to be a knight or anything. But truly... That's not my brother anymore, you ken? He's wearing my brother's skin and moves like him, but I think my brother might have died outside the Lonely Ghost, and this is one of them wights you hear about in them stories."
With the light from Karl's lantern, Percy could just make out something shimmering in the brain matter of young Lothor. Something perhaps metallic.
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Post by Maester Percival on Sept 25, 2016 20:12:18 GMT
Percival looked up at the brother. "So from what you are saying, if there was something I could do to help but it was dangerous you would want me to take that risk?" He turned to look at the man. "I might be able to help your brother but he could die. Do you want him alive as he is our risk his life to heal him?"
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The Raven
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Post by The Raven on Sept 27, 2016 2:51:31 GMT
"Well..." He looked around, judging the other patients before stepping forward and whispering, "See, I don't know how our mum would take it. She still fancies he's going to snap out of it any day now. But if you feel you have the talent to remedy the situation...?"
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Post by Maester Percival on Sept 27, 2016 13:32:17 GMT
Percival walked to his bag of supplies. He looked for a set of tongs he used. Then pulling them out he moved to the wounded man. "I think it will kill him or cure him. I agree with that he is basically dead right now so I think the risk low. But he is not my brother so I can not make this decision for you. If I don't have your consent I will not attempt to heal him. What I am going to do is quite risky." Percival stared into the head and started plotting the quickest and best route to remove the metal from his head.
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The Raven
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Post by The Raven on Sept 30, 2016 14:28:55 GMT
Brunor covered his mouth as he thought, twisting under the strength of family ties. Finally, he murmured, "Just do it."
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Post by Maester Percival on Sept 30, 2016 18:41:05 GMT
Percival smiled wickedly. Then he leaned in with the tongs and tried to remove the bit of metal. He was trying to commit every detail to his memory so he could write about it in detail later.
(Medical 70 or 71)
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The Raven
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Post by The Raven on Oct 1, 2016 23:21:00 GMT
(Success. One point awarded.) Percy grabs hold with the tongs. Karl prepares to faint. Brunor keeps his hands together in prayer. Carefully, the Maester removes the piece a slowly, meticulously preventing it from scraping the rest of Lothor's brain as it leaves the skull. The entire process takes two minutes when it could have taken two seconds. Finally, Percy holds the piece of metal in his hand.
Lothor continues to stare into space as the entire apothecary seems to hold its breath. And then, a blink. A twitch. A yawn. And finally, in a tired voice...
"Where's Mum...?"
His brother cries out along with the other peasants, and grabs his confused brother, hugging him tightly.
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Post by Maester Percival on Oct 3, 2016 13:17:58 GMT
Percival admires the piece of metal in his hand. He really was an amazing healer. Once again he had defeated the gods and held back death with only his great skill and boundless knowledge. He grabbed a piece of cloth and started cleaning the chunk of metal. These peasants should be on their knees kissing his feet.
Percival did not look up at the brothers as he spoke. "You will need to be careful with that wound." He was far more interested in the piece of metal then in the brothers.
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The Raven
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Post by The Raven on Oct 3, 2016 14:19:51 GMT
As he cleans the arrowhead, he can't help but notice it's shape. Percy might never have made a study of iron gates, but this reminded him more of the tip of a dagger. Percy could even make out the notches on it from old use.
Brunor helped his brother to his feet. "Come on! Mum has to see you!"
Lothor moved sluggishly, as though drunk. "Aye... Mum..."
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Post by Maester Percival on Oct 3, 2016 14:46:23 GMT
Percival slipped the dagger tip into a bag. He was going to keep it as a souvenir. He spoke to the brothers. "Keep in touch. And remember all wounds leave their mark. Your brother will need time." He looked up and gave a shrug.
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Almia Storm
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Post by Almia Storm on Jan 20, 2017 3:49:04 GMT
////////////////// 4th day of the 5th moon
Having arrived in Harrenhal earlier that day, Almia thought it as good a time as any to introducer herself at the apothecary. She changed into a far simpler outfit, one she wore often when performing surgeries or nursing the sick. With her kit slung over the shoulder and her hair tied up behind her head, she took a deep breath and walked through the front door.
She looked around for the first person she saw who did not look like a patient. After a few moments she saw the man with a chain hung low around his neck and approached him steadily.
"Good day to you, Maester." She said in a pleasant but serious tone. "I am Almia, daughter of Gellart Dondarrion, Setward of Storms End, and apprentice to Maester Cressen. My hands are small, my stomach is strong, and I am in desperate need of work now that I have arrived in Harrenhal. Are you in need of another skilled surgeon?" She held strength in her voice through the entire introduction. Almia had grown up revering Maesters, leaving her with slight trepidation when actually addressing one in person.
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Post by Maester Percival on Jan 20, 2017 4:21:40 GMT
Percival was writing in a large black tome with his cramped, precise script. He barely listened to the annoying woman trying to interrupt his hard work. He raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He replied but did not look up from his tome. "Perhaps the Maester of Storm's End is so incompetent that he utilities untrained hands in his surgeries. I do not have that problem, I am so skilled I have yet to lose a single patient of mine to the Ravens."
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Almia Storm
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Post by Almia Storm on Jan 20, 2017 4:30:42 GMT
She was surprised by his arrogance, but not put off by it. "Then what about someone to clean your tools and maintain your stores? A man as talented as yourself should not be waisted on the tedious minutia that accompanies medicine."
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Post by Maester Percival on Jan 20, 2017 5:18:16 GMT
Percival slowly put away his quill and slid the vial away from his book. He moved his chair back across the stone floor. As it moved back it scraped loudly against the floor. The Maester turned his attention to the woman finally. He studied her for a long time before he asked. "Can you read?"
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