M*A*S*H Arcanum

"We have incoming wounded! Mages teleporting in three! There will be a lull in our lull!"

Doctor Penelope Delilah Richardson, formerly Professor of Herbology at Tarant University, rolled out of bed and groaned long and low. She shouldn't have drunk so much in the Officer's Club last night, but Geshtianna-Bless-Em they were supposed to be in a lull!

She pulled a lab coat over her nightshirt as she ran across the compound, yawning adn gratefully accepting the midnight-black skull-cracker coffee the company clerk shoved at her as she passed.

As soon as the mages teleported in the wounded, she was amongst them, diagnosing wounds and already planning who could be sent to the mage healers and who would require actual surgery.

"Pen, over here!" She ran to the nurse, and her blood ran cold as she surveyed the gaping chest wound. It would take at least three hour to save his life, assuming he lived that...

"Oh gods. Franklin Payne..."

 

Andrew Merrywether had been dreaming about being back home, eating dinner with his family when the harsh tone of the emergency klaxon jarred him into wakefulness. In one fluid motion he rose from his chair, straightening his healer's robes and downing the last of his now-cold tea.

Brushing aside the tent flap, he ran towards the emergency tent, tying back his hair as he did so. A grim faced aide can up to him as he reached the flap.

"How bad is it?" asked Andrew as he accepted a bundle of fatigue restoring potions and clipped them to his belt.

"We've got at least thirty criticals," said the aide. "Most with multiple injuries. Apparently the new cannonballs fragment on impact..."

Andrew nodded and started treating the first patient. His hands blurred as he worked around hers wounds, stitching up rips and sending bursts of magic to where it was needed.

He was on his fifth patient, a man with a collapsed lung and a gut wound when there was a commotion over by the entrance. He briefly lokked up to see...

 

The commotion was soon revealed to be a gurney being rolled in. Pen's shirt and coat were already blood-stained, and she hadn't even stopped to put on shoes or trousers. The patient on the gurney was heavly sedated, and had obviously already been under the knife in order to make it safe to move him.

"Nurse! I need three-oh silk and clean equipment! Someone, glove me!"

She looked over at Andrew, and he recognized her expression as the one she only got when things are borderline hopeless.

"Andrew, I'm not ashamed to admit I need help on this one. He got hit point-blank with one of the new cannonballs. I've managed to stabilize him a bit, but..."

 

The air was thick with the smell of blood and anaesthetic. Thomas was already at work on a patient when he noticed the commotion around a man on a gurney. His arachnids rush over to the man, but there's not much they're able to do.
Damned shrapnel everywhere...if it's not the shock of an impact, it's the infection from an overlooked shard.
He finishes stitching his patient and gives them a Miracle Cure.
"...There. Try not to bend over, you'll rip out the stitches."
He runs over to the commotion, and sees that his arachnids have been trying, fruitlessly, to heal the patient for the past minute or so.
Thom looks up at Pen and Andrew, and neither one seems hopeful.
The man was rapidly losing blood, and his internal injuries made further surgery risky at best.
"All I can do is slow the bleeding...his body can't repair itself in this state. Andrew, if anyone here is able to save this man, I know it's you."

 

The door slams, and into the room rushes the midget figure of Jim Wink, the newly arrived halfling surgeon from Tarant. His mouth is covered in what looks like potatoe stew, and he looks sleepy in general. The tiny but fat halfling rushes towards the other doctors, wiping the stew out of his face as he runs.

- Sorry 'bout bein' late mates.

He makes a mental note to himself that he hates himself for always falling asleep after his meals. How is he going to win the respect of his newfound friends if he's bloody sleeping all the time?
After blaming himself for a few moments, he examines the wound. Then, he examines it's owner.

- Holy smokes. It's him. Have you got this covered, or do you need any help?

His fingers itches, eager to get to work.

 

Pen shoots Wink one of her famous acerbic expressions.

"Get your ass in gear and scrub for surgery already! Focus on the wound in his femal artery." (AN: I think that's the big-ass artery in his leg. I could be wrong though.)

 

Martus carefully slid into what was rapidly descending into a full triage center, surveying the wounded sadly before he settled down the crate in one of the few clear spots.

Turning to the trio of doctors, all huddled around one particularly banged up patient, he ripped the top of the crate off and pulled out three or four small packages and offered them up to them in his massive palm,

Curals, I think says it, maybe it help. Got a whole crate, wit some of the little bags that make you feel good more fast. Poshens in bottom, pain-numbers too. What you need get, or me help here?

 

Andrew made a quick appraisal of the man and turned to his assistant.

"Clement, tell the others to see to patients eight and fourteen. This is a priority one here."

Donning a new pair of sterile gloves he made a ginger examination of the man's chest. Shrapnel had lacerated his lower left side and ruptured his belly, and there was another wound high on his his leg, though it didn't look to be quite as serious as the cest wound. Though that was as good as saying that drowning wasn't as bad as being eaten alive.

Curals, I think says it, maybe it help. Got a whole crate, wit some of the little bags that make you feel good more fast. Poshens in bottom, pain-numbers too. What you need get, or me help here?

"Pain-numbers please, and heavy bandages, the ones marked with a green cross."

Deftly, Andrew cut up and removed the man's clothing, as Pen sponged the blood off his chest. He looked closer and almost flinched as he saw a shard of mettal jutting from between his ribs, right over his heart. Only a little blood was caked around the wound but Andrew knew that this would be the worst barrier to saving the man's life.

Grimly, he pointed it out to Pen.

"That's lodged in his heart. I think that I can remove it, but...it's going to be difficult."

 

Clement asked Thomas to see to one of the other patients. As much as he wanted to help, he knew that a dwarf was not nearly dextrous enough to handle such a delicate procedure.
"Andrew, I have some paralyzer in my supply bag. It could be dangerous, but it would relax this man and prevent further trauma as you took the shard from his heart. Here it is, if you need it."

Let's see here...Patient Eight is...dear lord!

"What the hell is going on here?! Do you see these gauntlets? We need to get these off the patient, now!"

A pair of gauntlets. They seemed normal enough, but every so often they would emit a flash of light...and the patient grew weaker.

"They're cursed. How the hell did you get these things? Never mind. Here, take this, it should speed up your healing."
Thomas motioned for his arachnids to start healing the patient.

"You're damned lucky I saw this...If you had worn those things for much longer, I think we'd be digging your grave."
Thomas gave the patient a look-over. She was breathtaking, especially considering she was moments from death not a minute ago.

I put them on without thinking...I found them a few days ago. Where is my dog?

"Dog? Noone's brought a dog in that I know of..."

 

Pen blanched when she saw the metal shard poking from Franklin's heart.

"Geshtianna's tits! ...What do you need me to do?"

 

Jim is still trying to get up from the ground because of that damned elfs little trip over him. He brushes of the dirt on his robes, and kicks away the clattering little cranium Murphy, who's been trying to get a good bite from his foot ever since he fell. He gets to his feet just in time to see the metal shard poking out of Paynes chest. He gasps.

"By the grace of Halcylon..."

Then, as if something triggers inside his head, he rushes off towards his personal tools table. He's back within seconds with a number of familliar and strange things under his right arm, and puts three of them beside Payne, on the table.

"Oi, dwarf! If you've got'ny paralyze or somethin' like that, I'd be pleased if you used it on him kind of now. 'Cause this's goin' to hurt, a lot."

He picks one of the three special tools, and starts preassuring it against Paynes chest, near the metal shard. Paynes arms starts to twitch, as does his legs. He seems to be in terrible pain.

"The paralyze, quick!"

 

Martus set the cure-alls on a makeshift table near the Payne operation and rushed out of the ER, almost bowling over one of the nurses on the way out. Shouting an apology back over his shoulder he ran towards the closest supply depot, running his hands over the supplies while he tried to remember how to read the labels.

He quickly found the small canvas bag marked with a big green cross, but he had to essentially yank a passing medic over to him.

What make pain go?

The man shrugged him off and dusty off his coat, Opium, here, and take these too, not as strong.

Martus nodded and picked up a small box of each, hurrying as gently as he could back to the emergency room.

 

Andrew grabbed the man's arms and held him against the gurney as Jim applied the paralyzer. The patient gave one final twitch and lay motionless. Andrew released the breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Alright, we're going to have to act quickly now, or the paralyzer could have permanent effects. I'm going to expand my relation to time, everything will look normal you, but I'll be moving much faster. Pen, you'll pull the piece of metal out, as I heal the would behind it. Pull slowly, but don't worry about it bleeding, I'll be healing it faster than the wound can open. Jim, I need you to mix a cure-all with this healing accelerator, and have it ready to give him the moment the the shard is out."

Andrew paused and looked around at each one of them.

"Are we ready?"

 

"I was born ready."

Pen waits for Andrew's confirmation, and starts pulling. Sweat beads on her forehead as the metal starts to move, and it's obvious that she's having to use more pressure than she'd like.

"If you die on me, you arrogant jerk..."

 

Everthing was in place. Andrew closed his eyes and called on his magic. Time seemed to strech endlessly. The sounds around his slowed and muted, until it seemed like he was underwater. He re-opened his eyes and focused ont the patient.

Pen was reaching down in slow motion to extract the metal shard. Andrew gulped down a magical fatugue potion and placed his hands by the wound just as Pen began to pull. Andrew willed the magic down his arms and into the man, but nothing happened. Perplexed, Andrew tried again. It felt as though there were some sort of barrier blocking his progress. A single drop of blood slowly well up around the shard.

Close to panic now, Andrew forced himself to remain calm and pushed with all his might. Gradually, he felt his magic break though and start to work on the patient. Breathing a long sigh, he continued feeding magic into the prone man, channeling it into his heart. Twice more he had to pause to drink fatigue potions, until the shard slid free abruptly. He was ready though, and the wound was fully closed even as the the shard left it .

He dismissed the time spell and the world returned to him in a rush of sound and color. He looked around at the anxious faces.

"The worst is over, I think," he said. "Once we treat the leg he should be out of danger."

 

Martus lugged the two crates inside and set them down near Andrew, Pen, and the rest of the surgery team, watching in interest as the sweat rolled down Andrew's face as he addressed the rest of the healers, who looked like they had just finished something major.

He set the bags bag of bandages down on the crate and opened it up, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket with his other hand.

Here. How it go? Opyem, bandajes, en...*shrug* I don't know, something else.