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Entry tags:
- dnd,
- hotdq,
- ic,
- khana woadi,
- rp
Encounter with Eldath
Your name is Khana Woadi and you're a sargeant serving your seventh year out in the field. You've spent a good chunk of your life out here; your fellow soldiers, those whom you have taught and those who have taught you, those who have fought by your side and those who have left you, have become your family and friends. It is with these people that you have found a sense of belonging and community.
You have risen through the ranks over the years and found your calling as a field medic. You have seen numerous horrors. You have seen life and death in many stages. You have learned that no one is spared in battle; no one cares about your looks or your voice or your heart out here, only your affiliation, and even then, that connection can be weak at times.
This patient is no different from the others. She bleeds and writhes and hurts like the others. But when clarity comes upon her, you're compelled by her voice.
She's a young woman, probably a handful of years younger than you. You don't recognize her; you've never met her before. That's not unusual, seeing as new recruits come in and out every day. She suffered pretty major injuries, but you're think she'll make a full recovery. Her left leg was dealt heavy bludgeoning damage and is currently in a cast. You're redressing old wounds and checking on her status when her voice reaches your ears.
"Miss," she says, her voice trickling into the room like a weak stream. "Miss," she tries again, clearer this time, cleansing water. "Was it you—no, it was you. You saved me, didn't you?"
You have risen through the ranks over the years and found your calling as a field medic. You have seen numerous horrors. You have seen life and death in many stages. You have learned that no one is spared in battle; no one cares about your looks or your voice or your heart out here, only your affiliation, and even then, that connection can be weak at times.
This patient is no different from the others. She bleeds and writhes and hurts like the others. But when clarity comes upon her, you're compelled by her voice.
She's a young woman, probably a handful of years younger than you. You don't recognize her; you've never met her before. That's not unusual, seeing as new recruits come in and out every day. She suffered pretty major injuries, but you're think she'll make a full recovery. Her left leg was dealt heavy bludgeoning damage and is currently in a cast. You're redressing old wounds and checking on her status when her voice reaches your ears.
"Miss," she says, her voice trickling into the room like a weak stream. "Miss," she tries again, clearer this time, cleansing water. "Was it you—no, it was you. You saved me, didn't you?"