Oasis Fringe Clinic

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This topic contains 3 replies, has 2 voices, and was last updated by  Mikaela Searight 6 months, 2 weeks ago.

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    Jessie Nystrom

    Kestrel was grinning ear to ear as she admired the wooden sign she had for the front of her clinic. It was a simple one that said in fey and terran “The Healer is”. Next to the two translations of the same phrase was one wooden disk that said “in” in green on one side and “out” in red on the other, both in fey. She figured it would be easier to only have one thing to flip and the colors would get the point across. Once she had flipped the green “in” side up, the siren healer sat on a chair outside next to the sign. Sure she could be sitting inside checking her supply of smelling salts, body kits, and the like, but three times the night before was probably enough, and it was a nice morning, if a bit cool, so she much preferred to be getting some fresh air. Not to mention things were always happening on the fringes of Oasis, if someone needed to find her they could do so much more quickly this way.


    Mikaela Searight

    In the brisk hours of mid-morning, the sound of heavy armor clanking precedes the visage of a stocky, graceful form. Ae’ras approaches the fellow Feykith, a placid look upon their face as they examine the sign. Green orbs linger on the words for a long moment before sliding over to the siren’s face. They blink, softly inclining their head to the other in greeting.

    “Kestrel,” they say, moving from a nod into a more formal bow. “It is good to see you, and good to see that you have been able to open this–” they pause to gesture at the humble wooden structure, “–clinic, of yours. It is quite serendipitous that I found you here, now.” They shift uncomfortably for a moment, left hand clasping at their right shoulder. At closer inspection, their right arm hangs limply from the socket, unmoving.

    “As you can see,” they sigh, wincing a bit as they shift the crippled appendage, “I am in need of your service. Furthermore, I am in need of your ear, as well. If I may.”


    Jessie Nystrom

    As the sylph approached Kestrel stood, anticipating the formal greeting and returned the bow with a small dip of her chest and wings. She gave Ae’ras a warm smile, though she didn’t necessarily agree with their views on terrans and elves she was quite fond of the warrior. As they explained their needs her eyes snapped to the injured arm and she gave a nod.

    “I can certainly assist you with both of your needs,” she replied as started towards the door, “Come inside and we’ll tend to both.” Kestrel held the door open for Ae’ras as they entered into a small waiting room. It was decorated with mismatched plush chairs, the most comfortable Kestrel could find, and one small painting of a beach on a calm sunny day picked because it reminded Kestrel of home. Their footsteps as they crossed the small waiting room were quickly muffled as they crossed a carpet with designs in earthy tones, then Kestrel opened the door to the work room. It was a little bigger than the waiting room with a small handful of beds and chairs with small tables scattered among them to hold whatever tools the healers needed for the job at hand. The siren gestured to the nearest chair and as soon as Ae’ras’s butt was in it, she got to work on the crippled limb, an earthy green glow emanating from her hands and being absorbed into the sylph’s injured arm.

    “While I work, what did you need to talk about?”

    • This reply was modified 6 months, 2 weeks ago by  Jessie Nystrom.

    Mikaela Searight

    Once seated, healing magic pouring into their limb, Ae’ras releases a pent up breath.

    “Thank you,” they say, the relief plain on their face. For a moment the slyph is quiet, gathering their thoughts. Then, “First of all, I want to commend you for your work–in general, of course–but specifically what you are doing on the Fringe. You are a valiant soul if I have ever seen one, risking yourself for your companions. And, even having lived nearly two centuries, I have seen but a mere handful of shattered souls be brought back. Impressive is not a sufficient word for a feat like that.”

    Again, they pause, as if sifting through their thoughts and picking out the proper words needed.

    “Unfortunately, I will be leaving the Fringe. Though the work being done there by you and the others there is indeed dire, I believe strongly that I need to dive deeper into the happenings surrounding the Baron. The elf that saved my life, and in turn, saved all of our lives in that encounter with the Old Masters–” A grimace cuts their sentence short, pain crumpling their features. They reach up with their good hand, pinching the bridge of their nose, and take a deep breath in. Lowering their hand and releasing a long sigh, the expression passes, though the pain remains in their eyes. They shake their head before continuing.

    “I cannot let that happen again. I need to seek out others like him, try to free those that do not wish to commit such atrocities and eliminate those that do. I am going to gather a squadron of warriors of my kind and seek out the one, Orb, that you mentioned. I wish to help them in their endeavor to dismantle the Old Masters forces in whatever way I can. My people are trained as I am, and we are very powerful when working together. I am hoping we will be able to make a dent. And if we can weaken them–perhaps we can weaken the Baron. And–” Their gaze shifts to Kestrel’s face, “perhaps, it will help all of you in your endeavor to dismantle the Spirit House of which you spoke. From what I understand, via your descriptions, I can only postulate that such an atrocity cannot be allowed to exist. I have only a touch of Life Magic, so I feel that I am best suited to assisting Orb instead.”

    Their gaze drifts back to the work that the other is preforming. A small frown tugs down on the slyph’s lips, but they quickly brush it off, clearing their throat.

    “However, I could not in good faith leave the role I filled in my time on the Fringe with you all unoccupied. So, I requested the aid of one of my apprentices. His name is Mordekai, or, I suppose, ‘Kai’ for a…” they pause, waving their good hand flippantly in the air as they search for the word, “nick…name,” they pronounce in a stilted fashion.

    “Anyway, he is young, very young, but he is very capable. Nevertheless, capable or no, I would greatly appreciate it if you would look after him. He will be alone here and he has a rather–striking appearance and subsequently, a troubled past. If I could request a favor–please, keep him safe. And keep him out of trouble. Especially with those that would seek to manipulate him.” They shoot a pointed glance at Kestrel, hoping that she will catch on to whom they may be referring.

    “Of course, if that is not too much to ask,” they say, again inclining their head politely to her.

    • This reply was modified 6 months, 2 weeks ago by  Mikaela Searight.
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