I couldn’t see my hands anymore. There was so much blood it seemed impossible. Blood on the floor, the ceiling, in my hair. My hands looked like something out of a dream. Covered in blood and viscera. I was holding my friends esophagus in my left hand when it hit me. We made a mistake. Well, it wasn’t us, so much as the “doctor” that got to work on Odom before us. It seemed easy enough. Heal the wounds he had taken in this place so we could be on our way. The problem we didn’t see with that, was how this “doctor” viewed us.
Im getting ahead of myself. Let me start with a little about the half-orc. Odom is a man with a heart too big for his chest. He sees the best in people, and will always help someone if they need it. He sees the world through this lens, and because of that, he expects others are the same. He expects that when a doctor tells him to lie back and take this shot, that he is well on his way to being healed. What he could have never expected is that this doctor did not see a person that was whole and only needed basic medical attention. The good doctor saw a very sick thing lying on his table. A thing that had all the wrong parts in all the wrong places. So he went about doing what he “had” to do. Removing all the organs in this sick man.
I have no problem saying when im wrong, and on that day I was wrong! I should have listened to Diogenes when he said that Odom would die. I should have listened when he said something was wrong, and I should have listened when he told me to stop helping that doctor. I didn’t, and thought that at some point this doctor would start putting things back where they were supposed to go. That didn’t happen. Thank the Magic Maker for my weird nature loving comrade! Diogenes had the idea to regenerate Odom. He casts the spell, and had his plant clothes (yes, clothes made of living plants) protect the prone half-orc as best they could while the Druid worked his magic. None of this deterred the doctor as he kept pulling things out. One by one he worked his way through Odom’s most vital bits and tossed them out like they were trash. By the time he started separating my friends spinal column, I knew that it was time to stop.
Almost on cue, Flynn had the same epiphany. Before I knew it, a cage of pure magic enveloped that strange doctor. Flynn layed into his lute, and a chord struck the air like a thundercrack. If you have never found yourself lucky enough to be in the company of a true Bard, such as Mr. Flashwood, then you are truly missing out on one of the greatest treasures in life. When he struck that chord, it sounded like the sweetest thing my ears had ever heard. The note held strong for a heartbeat and reverberated through the chamber, and in response the world moved. Energy crackled from the very sound itself, as Flynn directed it with his song. Dazzling lights coalesced into something solid from the very sound itself. A cage made of pure energy enveloped the strange doctor thing, and pinned it to the ceiling. Did I mention that he was hanging from the ceiling from some contraption? Yeah, hanging from the fucking ceiling like something out of a nightmare. So the cage goes up, and Flynn starts shouting at me. I glanced over at the assistant, and put a hold on her, just in case. No use slaughtering people just trying to do their job, no matter how misguided the attempt may seem.
In my life I have but a couple of things to truly be proud of. The first I will keep to myself, but the second came just seconds after the doctor got caged. There we were, standing in a room with our friend laid out before us like he was being field dressed. Diogenes’ magic was keeping him alive, but only by a very slim thread, and he was bleeding more than I thought a body was capable of bleeding.
As a cleric, we are allowed to follow some of our own pursuits of knowledge. We all get the general lessons, but we also get to choose some of the things we want to learn outside of the basics. I chose to learn the skills of the artisan. I also chose medicine, and thank the Riftmaster for that! As Odom lay there bleeding, I couldn’t just stand there and watch. I did what anyone in my position, with my knowledge would. I rolled up my sleeves, sent up a prayer, and started putting things back where they belong.
To my surprise, Flynn jumped in. What we did together that day was nothing short of pure magic. Don’t ever tell him I said this, for he would have no choice but to let it go to his head, but that man became my hero in that tiny little room, operating on a friend who deserved better. Before I could ask, Flynn had the tool ready. Before I could even think about what came next, Flynn was there handing me the implement he thought would work best. He pulled bones out of the way and went elbow deep with me into Odom to put some of the more vital pieces back. When I got confused, or nervous, he was there. The words he said to me that day will stay with me forever, and I will not share them, but I will share their effect. He inspired me in a way I never thought was possible. Flynn is a man among men, and I hope to one day show him what his ever present companionship has meant to me. One day when he isn’t as apt to sing a song about how it was Flynn Flashwood all by himself that changed the world, or worse still a song about a big Cleric prostrating himself to a lowly Half-Elf.
Until then, I will continue to write my thoughts in this journal. Maybe one day, when the world is back to being more simple, these writings will serve as a history, or primer, or who knows. Maybe they will be collected and stored, or lost in some old library under a temple in Bet Kalamar. Whatever the final destination, I would be pleased to let the world know how close it came to being undone. I would let them see what four men and an Idea could do. I would let them see a holy man, and his friends, risk everything they ever had to keep the world from burning.