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A Ship of Mercy

As the Mourning Isles Civil War rages the healers stationed on healing ships attempt to save all they can.

A medical triage scene representing the difficulties of dealing with the massive influx of patients that occur during such battles. Healers will not be in physical damage and the outcome of the event WILL impact casualty rates.

Appropriate for all levels of healing skill. Even the newest of apprentices will be valuable.

Healers will be split into two teams. The stabilisers/triage specialists will take the incoming patients and prevent them from deteriorating whilst the Treatment Specialists will be attempting to treat the problems well enough that the patients can move into the wards.

Open to anyone who RSVP's before 20:00 on the 7th. Send me a mail.
If possible also include a vague idea of healing skill (for balance purposes. Novice/competent/master is fine) and your preferred role.


Sept. 6, 2022, 8 p.m.

Hosted By


GM'd By



Neve Azova Briseis Thea Leonaess Ailys



Outside Arx - Mourning Isles near Darkwater Watch - On a Ship Somewhere In the Sea

Largesse Level


Comments and Log

As the battle for Eswynd Rock looms several medical vessels wait in preparation for the inevitable wave of injuries, deaths and trauma that inevitably follows battle. As we start the ship known as the Silver Thyme sits between the shore and the expected naval battle site and the healers work to help the trickle of patients that have so far arrived. Although it is quiet right now there is an air of expectation amongst the healers who pack bandages and other supplies in nervous anticipation.

Neve was told unequivocally that she was not allowed to be barefoot while serving on the medical shipAnd so for that reason her booted feet scurry quickly to whatever requires her attention at the moment while the jingle of bells in her hair can be heard faintly over the sounds of the ocean and the not-so-distant battle. She follows closest to Thea, whom she recognizes from another Oathlands house, as they prepare their station for incoming casualties. There is a set to her jaw and wrinkle between her brows that belay her feelings of concern whenever she looks out toward the clashing fleets.

Azova has little qualms about advertising her mercy status, bedecked in white aeterna, flame motifs, and religious iconography. But like everyone else she spends the time before the inevitable onslaught packing supplies into small pouches, or chattering with other physicians and mercies about past injuries they've seen. And she sticks near Ailys like glue, with a hovering and nervous energy that in those moments she isn't strictly keeping busy... is watching the naval ships and the shore both, expectantly.

In the strictest sense of the word, Briseis isn't quite a 'healer'. Here on a strictly volunteer basis, in light of the war and the desperate need for hands, anyone with SOME knowledge of medicine seems better than none. Thus, the Inquisitor finds herself alongside the talented Mercies and herbalists and healers aboard the Silver Thyme, meticulously gathering her thing. Brace against the horrors that might come with the steely determination of a woman who has known terror in her life. Who has seen death before.

Despite this looming dread, her mannerism and behavior are easy enough to be amicable to those near her, offering pleasantries when she can, or softer comments when applicable. All the while, her shoulders are squared, her jaw tense, her golden brown eyes turning to observe, to see, to brace against the next bloodied body that comes to their side.

Thea is here, dressed in her darkest of her leathers. Can't see much on those you know. She too is gathering supplies, her eyes on the horizons. Thea is highly focused today, observing mostly but chatting with the others. Seeing Neve nearby, she offers a brief smile and nod of her head.

The clothing donned today is darker tones and even apron is a faded dove grey smelling heavily of herb stuffed pockets. Gilded waves are bound back in a thick plait, only a few tendrils fly away to frame features that for the moment appear calm as tawny eyes survey the impromptu medical bay. Lithe digits move to roll up sleeves in preparation, double checking that her satchel is well stocked, and her leather kit of sharp medical tools is ready to roll. Busy work.

Leonaess allows attention drift over those who are here to also mend flesh, bone, and minds. Each is greeted with a faint curve of lips, a brief warmth that lingers for now.

In contrast to her fellow Mercy, Ailys is dressed in simple leather armor for this particular journey. Despite the heaviness in the mood on the ship she's calm and composed as she checks over a few needle cases. She offers a sidelong smile to Azova while she works, not encouraging per se because the other woman certainly doesn't need encouraging, but maybe the shared knowledge of what's to come and what will need to be done.

It is obvious when the battle begins as the trickle of patients looking for help with minor scrapes becomes a flood with serious injuries within the space of a few moments. Healing apprentices soon start hurrying around carrying medicines and bunches of bandages as their more experienced partners start doing triage on the incoming people. There is no longer time to treat anyone fully. The best you can hope for is to treat them 'good enough' to survive for more personalised treatment in the morning. Patients are divided up into sections further up the line, before being sent down to you, and at this moment you have the following patients to deal with:
An officer with a sucking chest wound who's prognosis would be bad even if you had time to lavish upon him.
A traditionalist with a badly bruised chest.
A soldier with an arm broken so badly that bone pokes through the skin in several places.
A half drowned traditionalist who was fished out of the water.
A sailor who managed to get trapped between two ships during a boarding action. Crushed, drowned and barely conscious.
A captured traditionalist dragged in by his captor who's lost several fingers.

Azova checks intellect and medicine at hard. Azova is successful.

Neve checks intellect and medicine at normal. Neve is successful.

Leonaess checks intellect and medicine at normal. Leonaess is successful.

Thea checks intellect and medicine at hard. Thea marginally fails.

Briseis checks perception and medicine at normal. Briseis is successful.

Ailys checks intellect and medicine at hard. Ailys marginally fails.

War brings many atrocities - crushed bones and missing limbs the least among them, honestly. Briseis is amongst the flurry of activity that begins as injured and the Mercies meet, a wave of activity that is unlikely to stop any time soon. She finds face to face with a combatant dragging forth an injured man, holding him hostage even as he beseeches she make the bleeding stop.

Straight backed and squared shoulders, her golden eyes focus - a singular task lays before her, and it isn't the time to ponder what will happen it her patient. Keen eyes deduce the issue - there are fingers missing. The easiest thing is to stem the bleeding and patch up the injuries, which she makes relatively efficient work of, despite his muttering and cursing. "Be still," she tells him, her jaw clenching, her hands surprisingly soft for her terse disposition at the moment. When he is sent off, she turns to tend to the next matter at hand.

Neve smiles back at Thea, replying with a quiet nod of gratitude before the first round of casualties comes in. She scans the injured as they come in, steeling herself, and then chooses her first patient: the half-drowned traditionalist. She checks for breath and a heartbeat before administering the Sailor's Kiss, then pulls back quickly as he sputters up seawater.

"This one can go!" the Greenmarch lady tells one of the apprentices. They will need room for the next wave.

Thea is quickly trying get all her supplies in order. But the amount of running and some confusion from others causes the usual steady physican to stumble to a bit. "Shite,"she growls as she tries to work with the man and his arm. She skims his arm, lips thin. Thea grabs a splint and starts to work, but it's not going as planned as she knocked here and there.

"How is your breathing?" Leonaess leaned in to press ear to the sailor's chest to listen to any potential rattling that might be the tell of pierced lungs. Fingers move in a knowing skim over each rib, taking note of the flinches that earns her a tsk of tongue. A bandage is applied to stabilize the torso, "Don't be moving around too much or lift your arms up for the next few days. If you feel faint or have a shortness of breath? Come back." A nod of head and a light pat to salty dog's cheek before sending him on his way.

A glance towards Thea is given, feet a fast skim towards the woman with features controlled and slowly she leans in, "May I assist you?"

Azova tips her head slightly to the side even before people begin to either board or be dragged onboard, and is moving even before they can get a good look at what the injuries are. Her steps are purposeful when she immediately takes charge of the officer that has a sucking chest wound; her assistant Orion directing those carrying the man as to where to put him while she grabs what supplies she thinks she will need based on the surface look seen so far. "Hard time breathing? Alright, we've got you." she assures, keeping her voice low and soothing while what is left of his chest armor is pulled or cut off as needed until she can find the wound entry point. "Turn him on his side, one of his lungs is filling and we need to drain it before I sew it up!" Sorry man, this is gonna hurt a little. But, at least she works quickly and efficiently to get the somewhat messy and unpleasant situation dealt with; including suture for now. He'll need more, but he can breathe.

Ailys takes a deep breath as the waves of injured begin to arrive, then darts up to a sailor who has been almost literally keel-hauled. A quick once-over determines that they are essentially drowning, and this must be addressed first. Unfortunately, chest compressions do a nearly crushed person few favors, and while the sailor coughs up a large quantity of pink-tinged seawater, there is much more work to be done before they can be considered in the clear. The Grayson princess murmurs to an orderly next to her to bring more supplies and be quick about it.

Even as the first patients are sent out from the triage area more enter. Three out. Four in. The officer with the sucking chest wound gains a little strength as Azova performs first aid. His colour easing up away from slightly blue towards merely shock pale. Unfortunately for Thea and Ailys things do not go so well. Thea attempts to save the shattered mans arm but her every attempt to reinforce and repair his broken limb seems to cause other breaks to show themselves in response and Ailys soon finds herself trying to deal with three potential disasters at once. She's managed to keep her patient from deteriorating but he just isnt any better than he was on arrival.

And whilst they worked more patients came in. A soldier is brought in screaming and sobbing in response to the livid burns that cover a third of her chest. An officer with a head injury walks in, supported by a soldier with a broken hand, demanding that he gets priority treatment at every step. He's the commander of the fleet he just left and adamant that he is vital to its survival.. and finally a traditionalist with a savage laceration and degloving injury is brought in on a stretcher.. You barely even get time to breath before having to continue.

Thea checks intellect and medicine at hard. Thea is successful.

Neve checks intellect and medicine at hard. Botch! Neve fails completely.

Ailys checks intellect and medicine at hard. Botch! Ailys fails completely.

Leonaess checks intellect and medicine at hard. Leonaess fails.

Azova checks intellect and medicine at daunting. Azova marginally fails.

Briseis checks perception and medicine at normal. Briseis marginally fails.

Briseis yells quite indignantly at the mouthy 'commander', "War levels the playing field on life! Now sit down, you blighter." However, she does attempt to treat him. Normally so attentive and careful, her keen gaze one of her greatest attributes, and all the it perceives, she seems to underestimate the extent of the bruised bleeding, for when she tries to stitch it up, she must hit something purposeful. He goes very pale, very quickly, and then suddenly is collapsing at her feet. She tries to catch him, but by the gods, she's small and he's fully armored and bloody! His friend tries to help (but what can a man with a broken hand really do?) and she calls out for one of the apprentices, "Help over here!" Hopefully he isn't any MORE injured when he gets to the floor, after much struggle, the young woman panting from the effort, but still possessing that fiery determination. A glance around her just steels her further - this isn't going well, but then, when does war ever go 'well'?

Neve's patient is still screaming, even flailing a bit as Neve tries to work. Then, distressingly, the screaming becomes strangled in the soldier's throat as she struggles to breathe. "FUCK. You! Bring me a bite stick!" she yells to a pair of apprentices while she readies her scalpel and examines her patient further. "Just try to take deep breaths. I know you're in pain. Just hang on!"

Just as she was ready to assist in whatever way Thea might need her? The sudden freshly wounded easing in caused only a brief look of apology before Leonaess goes to assist a rather sorry looking traditionalist. Bright eyes shift over the laceration to mark it for shallowness, location, and debris. The same attention is applied to the hand as well where bone shines vivid and stark beneath the mutilated flesh. Clearing the wounds out with a squirt of cold sea water seems to be the easy part but it's the unstoppable flow of blood that has her concerned.

A binding strap is used to try and secure the leg to prevent more of suspected arterial bleed and works on elevation with a nearby pack. No idea whose it is! It's covered in blood now. The hand is slightly elevated, moving to pack and apply pressure.

Ailys mutters under her breath while she works, finding to her dismay that she's having trouble keeping ahead of all of the issues with her patient. "Going to lose him if we cannot get the leg resolved," she tells the orderly at her elbow quietly as the sailor convulses under her hands.

Azova takes in a breath when the sucking chest wound officer looks less blue and more pale, her gaze darting around at some of the other wounded as they're brought in and with her lips pursed as someone demands special treatment. She's of course about to open her mouth and say something, but Briseis got it covered. And with a last look around she decides to remain at the side of her current patient to attempt to treat him. Leaving him might worsen his condition, and she gets needle and thread to begin the delicate work of trying to sew both a sliced open lung and chest after cleaning the injury thoroughly. "Get him something for the pain, would you Orion?" she's too focused to move - until she slips a stitch and starts swearing. "Fuck. Motherfucker. What was the asshole who cut you trying to do, slice you open from one side to the other?" Mutter, mutter.

Taking a deep breath, Thea starts to calm herself far better. Looking up at the voice of Leonaess, she nods,"Sure if you'd like, but I-think- I got it now,"and starts again. But the woman is darting off again. Such is War! Thea starts working on the parts that shouldn't be where they are, and starts putting them where they SHOULD be. Like a pillow!

Waves rock the ship making slippery surfaces all the more dangerous and causing lanterns to cast wild shadows around the space as the swing like pendulums in response. Already the healers throughout the ship are starting to have to make difficult choices as to who gets a chance to live and who will die and still more patients trickle in. The soldier with the broken hand who brought in the demanding officer has taken a seat at the edge of the triage area and holds his hand close. Moaning slightly as he waits. A noble knight is brought in past him but the stretcher bearers simply set him on the ground after finding there isnt a single cot free. He's unconscious with no sign why. The others are still here with healers working desperately to save them but non are well enough to leave yet. The only one that has really improved is the soldier with the shattered arm just needs a few more minutes of work to secure his stitches and save the limb that most would have removed.

Thea checks intellect and medicine at hard. Thea is successful.

Ailys checks intellect and medicine at hard. Ailys is successful.

Azova checks intellect and medicine at daunting. Azova is successful.

Leonaess checks intellect and medicine at daunting. Leonaess marginally fails.

Neve checks intellect and medicine at hard. Neve is successful.

Briseis checks perception and medicine at normal. Briseis is successful.

At least, whilst unconscious, the demands cease and he's still. Leaning over him, Briseis is able to identify another wound, previously hidden from her - a stab that managed to slip through the kinks of his armor. With careful hands and a steadfast demeanour, she makes quick work of getting the lout ready enough to be carried off (the armor is wrestled off, the injury stitched together), and then turns about, wide eyes curiously drinking in the trauma all around her.

Admiration is visible upon her as she witnesses the finesse and struggles of her fellows. Such injuries, blood stemmed or bones bound. It is the awe of one who could very much NOT manage such miracles of modern medicine, so instead, she turns her eyes to those she can mend or stabilize until another has the chance to mend them up proper.

Neve takes the bite stick one of the apprentices brings her and slides it between the soldier's teeth. "If you need to flail, bite that instead," she commands before making quick, precise slashes across some of the charred flesh. There is an ooze of blood as the soldier regains her ability to breathe, but it is not too much for the same apprentice to help her quickly bandage up. "Good, good! That thing is carved from burl wood. No way you're chewing through it," she says, patting an uninjured shoulder.

"That's it,"Thea murmurs,"bandaging up the arm. She turns him over so she can assist on the next person, whipping her cheek. Likely smearing blood on her face.

Azova doesn't even look relieved, honestly. When she's done everything that can be done, and wiped the blood off of her hands, tucked a blanket around the patient and whispered a few comforting words to him (no doubt a prayer to Lagoma for him), and then sent him off to the wards - well, she knows there are more waiting. And this time, she takes in a deep breath before letting herself settle and focus.

Ailys stands up straight briefly as her patient starts to inch away from death's door. She tries to tuck a few stray wisps of hair back into her tight braid before jumping back in to the work.

Having managed to slow the flow of blood there is a crucial look at vitals as Leonaess manages to stabilize the wounded traditionalist. A hand reaches out to procure something for the pain, "Drink this slowly now." Administered in between slight applications of pressure and quickly to avoid shock.

Wounds are cleaned up once again before starting to move towards looking towards a suturing of the leg laceration and a potential partial removal of fingers given the severity of the degloving but she waits for the concoction to take some effect before moving forward.

The sound of boots pounding on the deck overhead fades somewhat as the crew steps down to a less urgent footing. An occasional patient still trickles into the triage area but non come to your bit of the ship. It feels as if it has been an entire day (and it might have been) but the influx of patients finally seems to be drying up and you start making progress through the backlog of patients that have been building up. There are five patients still in your area but non of them are in a good way: The soldier with the broken hand's eyes roll back in his head and he starts convulsing. Kicking out at the attendants who try to keep him from beating his own head in on the wall of the ship or taking other patients with him. The soldier with nasty burns across his torso is able to breath but still slipping rapidly into the deadly form of shock which makes burns so very lethal. The sailor who fell between the ships has the trapped veins in his leg untrapped but is still in a terrible way. Lungs waterlogged, ribs broken and limbs broken in several places. The noble knight who came in unconscious remains unconscious on his stretches.. and the traditionalist with that awful degloving and laceration slowly gulps down the drink given to him by Leonaess but his bandages are already threatening to bleed through.

Leonaess checks intellect and medicine at daunting. Leonaess fails.

Azova checks intellect and medicine at daunting. Azova marginally fails.

Briseis checks intellect and medicine at easy. Briseis is successful.

Ailys checks intellect and medicine at hard. Ailys is successful.

Neve checks intellect and medicine at daunting. Neve marginally fails.

Thea checks intellect and medicine at daunting. Thea is successful.

"Hey there. Stay with me." Azova hustles over to the convulsing patient, having the orderlies keep his legs and uninjured arm down so she can more closely examine the broken hand that's causing so many problems. "I know, you don't have any control over what's happening to you right now. Focus on the sound of my voice, okay? It's going to hurt more before you feel any better I'm afraid. Let's get you something to bite down on." One Orion has that taken care of, she goes about trying to set the hand which has a trapped blood vessel or vein causing so many problems. And while managing to fix things just enough that he doesn't go into shock, her quiet swearing suggests it's going to take another try or two before it can be fixed.

Briseis can't dwell on the fact her choices caused the man with the broken man to start seizing - even though there is a moment in which she freezes, eyes wide, taking in what is happening. A moment's hesitation, nothing more. Luckily for her, Azova rushes to the man's aid, and she doesn't watch for long before turning to the gallant knight.

He's unconscious, and armored, and she's not quite sure what's wrong. With swift hands and gentle gestures his cloak, saturated in blood that doesn't appear to be his, is removed, and then his helm - ah, that's a problem. When the metal is pulled away, she can spy the indent where an ax has been hammered into the armor. On the flesh beneath is a black, unpleasant mark that is no doubt causing an imbalance in his fluids. She makes a small cut, to loosen the pressure and keep from swelling, draining some blood before she bandages it up. At least it appears he won't be slipping away any time soon.

With the patient stabilized for the moment, but likely to slip soon, Neve gets to work managing the worst of the burns. It takes only seconds for her to realize that she is in over her head. She orders the apprentice to get more bandages, then shouts over her shoulder, "Lady Thea! Come give me a hand with this one!"

Ailys is in the zone, pausing only for a moment once the patient's ribs, after much coaxing, snap back to where they are no longer injuring the lungs. "All right, my friend. Just hold on a little bit longer." Thankfully the sailor seems to be in and out of consciousness, and not feeling too much pain yet.

Thea is telling a passing nurse,"It's too late for that one,"her voice even but firm. Hearing her name called, she looks up and carefully makes her way over to Neve. "What is it thtat you need,"she asks looking down. "Ok. You did an alright job keeping him--alive,"and starts again. She begins working, lips thinning at the burns. "This is going to hurt,"Thea murmurs quietly.

Its been a while now since you saw any new patients come into the ship and the lack of traditionalists boarding suggest that the battle was a victory. Leonaess continues to struggle to save a patient that has now slipped beyond saving. The trauma of his injuries too much for his body to bear. The rest of you continue to work on the three seriously injured patients that remain. Fatigue drags at you after hours of struggle but you know that the slightest lapse will cause deaths and cannot rest. Not yet.

Neve checks intellect and medicine at normal. Neve is successful.

Briseis checks perception and medicine at hard. Briseis fails.

Azova checks intellect and medicine at hard. Azova is successful.

Ailys checks intellect and medicine at hard. Ailys is successful.

Thea checks intellect and medicine at daunting. Thea fails.

Now that he's stable, Briseis sets about trying to get him actually fixed. This involves removing some more armor, ensuring that was his only injury, and flustering over how best to mend the wound. She finds little else of interest, but her wrap of the head doesn't seem to have truly stopped the bleeding. Was the cut a good call? She applies pressure, and glances about, calling out, "Can I get a hand, please?" Look, even in chaos, at the point of exhaustion, where the mind becomes muddled and the only thing driving forward is sheer power of will - she remembered some semblance of manners.

Treatment goes much more smoothly with a fellow healer there working in tandem; Azova greets Thea's assistance with relief and gratitude. She focuses on setting the very find bones of the hand and then holding it in place so it can be wrapped and splinted properly. "Thank you." she murmurs to the other healer, once their patient is on his way to the wards.

By the time her patient is taken back, Ailys has lost hours of the day. Her hair is matted with sweat and she just sits down on the deck where she is. Someone's going to have fun getting the blood out of her leathers (but not her!). "Is it over? Did we do all right?"

Neve and Thea's shared patient is moved from the operating area and the Greenmarch lady starts to thank the Countess, when she hears the call for assistance. "I've got this one," she tells Thea before darting off.

Her boots slip a bit on the blood-soaked deck, but she offers up a silent thanks that she is not running through it barefoot, or worse: in socks.

She arrives at Briseis' side and starts checking on the knight. "You did well keeping him alive," she tells her. She gets to work removing his helm, examining him, and eventually reviving him somewhat. "Don't try to move on your own," she warms him as the stretcher is finally carried off.

Briseis looks relieved to see Neve arrive, and watches her work (and assists where applicable) with the wide eyes of someone intrigued but also... Tired. Her hair is normally a fastidious assortment of plaits and braids, but now it hands limp, many stray waves clinging to her face. Her leathered attire is splattered with blood, none of which her own. Her gilded eyes, normally so sharp and attentive, have a wearied effect that comes from the struggles of hours upon hours of treatment and injured patients. To the Lady who assists her, she can only manage, "Thank you." Then, glancing about, she agrees with the princess, "I think it is over."

As the last patient is taken away an exhausted sort of quiet gradually falls over the ship. There will be a lot of work to do in a few short hours as you continue to treat the patients you saved today but for now, for these few quiet hours, you can wash, sleep, and recover.

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