M*A*S*H Arcanum Discussion

Too much M*A*S*H can be detrimental to the brain. Or it can spawn something like this. (Which is probably the same thing.)

Anyway, here's Pen...

Doctor Penelope 'Pen' Delilah Richarson.
Former Professor of Herbology at Tarant University, volunteered to act as a surgeon when the war between Caladon and Tarant broke out.
Worshipper of Geshtianna, drives the local Panarii chaplain round the bend with her exuberant celebrations of 'holy days'.
A talented surgeon who often works outside the rules if she thinks it'll help the patient.
Extremely cynical, developed a black sense of humor to combat the horrors she's seen.
Used to work with Franklin Payne.

 

I'm still drafting a decent character - I'll try to post Friday.

*EDIT*

Okay - Here's Andrew Merrywether...

Andrew Merrywether: half-elf, 47. Lost his whole family to ogres when he was thirteen, Andrew went to study under a Master of White Necromancy in Tulla, and later, a doctor in Tarant. He is of the belief that magic a technology should be able to co-exist, especially in healing. After years of study and concentrated effort he succeded in balencing his magical-technologist aura.He is able to slow time to enable himself to work faster, though he only does this in times of dire necessity.

He is a master surgeon and healer, and one of the seinor medicae in the staff. He remains outwardly calm under pressure, though he is agonized by every patient he fails to save and must sedate himself to sleep occasionaly.

 

Excuse me for asking, but what is M.A.S.H?

 

See? I've always said he was stupid/ignorant.

 

Mobile Army Surgical Hospital

 

Wolfie: M*A*S*H is one of the best comedy shows ever made. Go watch it ASAP, you'll thank me for it.

 

Ah, what the hell. I'll join in too.

Thomas Steelbrow
Dwarf, aged 233
Thomas studied herbology and therapeutics in the Wheel Clan Mines, earning a doctorate in each. He's also gained a doctorate in Chemistry. Not learned enough in Mechanical to create his own Medical Arachnids, he commissioned one of his clan brothers to make two that follow him everywhere. He's very proud, yet soft spoken; willing to take orders more readily than he'll give them.
Though he's a skilled warrior, he's seen too much blood wrought by his own hands to willingly pick up any weapon ever again. This means, however, that he's got much experience when it comes to the proper treatment of war-time injuries and illnesses.
While of a stern Dwarven demeanor, he's far from unfriendly, and will do whatever he can to help out. However, if you get on his bad side, there's only one thing you can do to start smoothing things over: Buy him a drink.
He came upon the MASH unit while scouting for more herbs, and so decided to stay.

 

Hee hee. I like the characters so far. We all seem to be bitter, crabby and alcoholic. Not unlike the series!

 

Here's my role. I'll join in soon enough.

Jim Wink

Jim's a halfling, originally from the meadows and green hills of Caladon. He quickly discovered his fascination and skill for healing, and became the village healer. The elders saw his potential, and also noticed that he longed to get out of the village, to discover the world. They did what they thought was best and gathered enough money from volounteer villagers to send him to Tarants University to study herbology and healing. Jim was so skilled that Tarant decided to put him to use, and sent him with a group to find the village of Qintarra, where the master healer was reputed to recide. After three years they found the hidden village of the elves, and there, the master healer. Jim learnt a lot from Fawn, and returned to Tarant with skills far beyond any of the other doctors and surgeons.

Jim don't drink, but he eats far too much. He's chubby. Really chubby. And lately he's been having some trouble with his bad heart. Unfortunetly for him, he can't see his problem because of his upbringing; his mother always to eat as much as he liked, so that's what he's doing.

He's recently been sent to this M*A*S*H unit as reinforcement, and is extremely eager to get into the field.

 

*applauds DE* Holy shit, talking skull. Flashbacks to 2nd Edition D&D...

 

Martus Ogtor
Ogre, age 27

When Martus was a child, he was stumbling through the wilderness of the Grey Mountains when an small rockslide left him pinned under the rocks. As luck or fate might have it, a group of adventurers stumbled by, and decided to spare the ogre his fate, freeing him from the rocks trapping his legs. The party brought the young ogre along with them for a distance, giving the healer time to repair the injuries Martus had sustained, and set his broken leg.

The ogre soon recovered, and grew up far more benevolent than most of his species. Indeed, ten years later, he stumbled across a warrior and a healer in the forests far to the north, just east of the Glimmering Forest, who were being accosted by wolves. The healer was injured and the fighter hard pressed to defend himself. Destiny and backstories being such clever and coincidental things, Martus recognized the pair as being in the party that saved him long ago. And so he rushed to their aid, fending off the attackers and saving the duo.

Martus tagged along with the pair; they were making a run for supplies to send to the MASH unit. When they returned to Tarant, it became clear that money was sparce to transport the supplies to the medical company, so Martus volunteered and has stayed with them ever since, acting as both protector and draft labor for the medical corps.

Martus is only of average intelligence for his species, which is none-too-intelligent, Martus still has a high affinity for healing techniques, particularly magic, since it tends to look prettier. He is eager to help, and uses his prodigious strength and endurance wherever it can be of use to aid the healers. He has minimal skills in healing, enough to perhaps set a broken leg, or staunch bleeding, but in general, and sometimes to his dismay, he leaves that to those more qualified than he is.

Sometimes he becomes an obstacle in the OR, standing around, trying to help where 400 pounds of muscle just isn't useful. Most of the time he can be found moving supplies around to where their needed, having more than enough strength to haul even the heaviest of crates, or standing guard placidly with a maul larger than some of the resident staff.

 

Andrew's going to have nervous breakdown after the operation, I think.

 

Opium?

 

He's lived the straight and narrow so far...sure, why not?