(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The door slams open. There is a st-

A sm-

An o-

.... actually, how about 'fetor'? Does 'fetor' describe what hits the nose when a breeze comes in off a particularly rancid and overgrown patch of a post-nuclear Maryland swamp full of mutant catfish and giant crabs and viney spore-bearing plants taller than men? Okay. 'Fetor' it is. That's what's coming through the door, a distinctly organic and half-growing, half-rotting fetor.

Also an armored figure, its helmet under its arm instead of, y'know, on its head where a helmet belongs. It's flanked by a dripping wet dog covered in mud and gore. (The dog, not the figure. Or the helmet.)

"I just woke up in the MIDDLE of a GODFORSAKEN SWAMP," announces Ellen, "with my dog COMPLETELY covered in blood and a DEAD MAN with his throat torn out next to me, and I can only see out of one eye at the moment because of this STUPID HONKING GASH I CAN'T FIX. This was NOT a good day." She swallows and reaches up to feel at her forehead, which is kind of a lost cause when you're wearing power armor with gauntlets that cover both hands. "Medic, please."

To heck with looking for the reinforced chair. She's just going to crash into whatever the nearest available sitty-thing is and put her head in her- ow, ow, no, that's not a good idea either, head in hands isn't going to work at all.


[OOC: Open until it scrolls off the page!]

Comments

[cook_the_rude]

"Come with me," says Dr. Lecter, standing up from where he had been sitting with a glass of wine and a book. "That looks uncomfortable."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The armor is painted silver, where it's not muddied or scratched; it does, however, look whole. Ellen looks up, doing her best to blink the yuk from a large cut on the left side of her forehead away, and comes to her feet. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter," she says. "I've had worse but that doesn't mean I like it."

[cook_the_rude]

"The mud is likely to infect the cut in some way, so I think some framycetin granules and a stitch or two are best," Dr. Lecter says, peering at her face. "After cleaning it. And your face. And everything else. And the dog."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen nods. "This is what I get for trying to track somebody with those goggles," she says. "I had to take my helmet off... ow. Dogmeat's probably all right, just disgusting. I'm pretty sure that's not his blood."

[cook_the_rude]

"What was it that you hunted?" Dr. Lecter says, holding open to door leading towards the infirmary.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"A plant," says Ellen, making her way to the door (she's got both eyes, it's just that there's too much yuk in the way to use one of them). "I was trying to find a plant called the Mother Punga. I didn't have the plant's scent, but... it's a long story."

There's bound to be somewhere in here she can sit down, right?

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter takes off his jacket, rolls up his shirt-sleeves, and then finds a disposable liquid-proof sheet to put on one of the medical beds.

"Sit there," he says. "The name is suitably ominous for what you ended up with."

There is a waitrat working in the infirmary that hurriedly and without being asked brings a metal wash-bowl and disposable wash-cloths.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen sighs and settles down onto the bed.

"I hate swamps. I hate them so much. I'm really looking forward to going back to the Wasteland, where it's dry."

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter takes the wash-basin and starts cleaning part of Ellen's face, working outwards from the cut.

"They are full of festering things," he agrees. "And mosquitoes."

[damncompass]

"Ellen!" Joshua has been hanging out off and on in the bar, but as soon as he sees Ellen he runs over. "I'm no medic, but I do know first aid. What can I do?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Joshua?" Ellen says, turning to face him; the cut's on the left side of her forehead and, as all face and scalp cuts do, bled a hell of a lot. "Antiseptic and direct pressure, could you? I'm all out of stimpaks or I'd have tried myself..."

[damncompass]

"Yeah, it's me. Here, let's get you sitting down. I'll get some towels and gauze, and I'll be right back." He makes sure she's solidly seated before he runs off, returning with some towels, antiseptic and gauze. "Alright, this is going to sting." He takes one of the towels coated with antiseptic and holds it to her head.

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I've had worse," Ellen says, wincing a little but otherwise not reacting. "At least he didn't hit bone. I know he was trying."

[damncompass]

"What happened?" Joshua keeps putting pressure on the cut. "How far have you gotten?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen has to stop and think for a moment, as rather a lot has gone on lately.

"Well," she begins, "I found the mother punga plant, for starters. I had to track it down by putting on my smell goggles- I forget, did I tell you about those?"

[damncompass]

"No, you didn't, actually." Joshua releases the pressure long enough to change the towel to a fresh one. "What are they?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The cut, upon examination, looks like it was made with a very sharp blade. Someone was being pretty deliberate at the time. Of course, that's assuming the whole field isn't too much of a mess to see.

"They're troll equipment," Ellen says. "From the same species that makes the T-Minus handsets. I traded a giant scorpion I'd killed to Karkat, the troll who made the handsets, and he made me these goggles that turn smell information into visual information. It makes it a lot easier to track someone or something."

[boston_bruiser]

"Holy shit, kiddo."

His Zero's copy of Starship Troopers gets tossed to the side, and he taps Bar for a first aid kit as he makes his way over. He gives a quick glance to Dogmeat as he goes.

"How about you sit down for a bit?" he says, pulling out a chair as he sets the kit on a table and opens it. "Take a breather."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Dogmeat's pretty much all over blood. Or mud. But mostly blood. He doesn't seem too unhappy about it, though- or if he is he's more worried about his human. He's not moving like a wounded animal, though.

"Sitting down is good," Ellen agrees. "Guh. I didn't think I was going to find a working door at all...."

[boston_bruiser]

"Well it's a good thing you did," Voodoo says as he opens the first aid kit and begins to tend to her wounds.

Well, he has to cover his nose after he leans in for a whiff.

"Kiddo, no offense," he says, "but you reek. The fuck you get yourself into this time?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Swampland. In what used to be Maryland," says Ellen sourly, doing her best not to squirm. "Ever heard of a place before the War called Point Lookout?"

[boston_bruiser]

"Point Lookout? Yeah, once or twice, growin' up," Voodoo says, rinsing her cuts out with distilled water. "Think it was a state park in my world. Why, what's it in yours?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Crazy tribal people who tame mutant pigs and speak in iambic pentameter, old men from families with weird ideas about evil cursed books, seven foot tall mutant catfish, other crazy tribal people who all get partial lobotomies and then stuff themselves to the gills with chems to transcend earthly existence, evil disembodied psychic brains who used to have brothers in the Senate..." Ellen shakes her head. "And two paladins who were sent to investigate a kind of fruit that grows there that's capable of repairing radiation damage to cellular tissue. Who, if I wasn't being lied to, are currently prisoners of the disembodied evil psychic brain."

[boston_bruiser]

"I think you've heard this before, kiddo, but your world is fucked in the head."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"You think?"

Pause.

"... sorry, Voodoo."