Infirmary Tent - Vulpin's Office

Vulpin looked up as some strange man barged unannounced into his office, eyeing the intruder with some annoyance. Who exactly did this man think he was, bursting in with his ludicrous little questions? Sighing, Vulpin put down his half-finished wine glass and swung his legs back down to behind the desk. Sitting up straighter, he gestured for the man to take a seat at the hard, uncomfortable wooden chair across the desk. He'd dealt with madmen before, and he'd found that the best way to sort them out was to keep them calm and sedated until a sharp ice pick could be located. Luckily for him, he kept such an implement in his desk. The poor man wouldn't have to wait too long for his cure...if he was indeed mad.

"I am Doctor Indys Vulpin," he said, keeping his voice calm and level. "Head surgeon and chief medical officer here in Port Argentium. This is the settlement's infirmary, where the sick and infirm are kept and treated. Are you quite alright, sir? Perhaps a calming mug of tea would do you some good. Come, sit, relax. What is your name?"

Rising from his desk, he strode across the room to a small pot-bellied stove. The crackling fire within warmed a kettle, from which he poured a small teacup full of hot water. Dropping in a spoonful of tea leaves and a few drops of sedative, he turned back to his guest and placed the mug on the desk in front of him. He hadn't given the man enough sedative to put him out entirely, but it would likely be enough to calm him down significantly. If worse came to worse, he could always call for an orderly to subdue the man. After all, sedatives were becoming increasingly scarce around these parts.

Vulpin noted with some annoyance that the man's teacup remained full, its drug-laden contents untouched. After all the trouble he'd gone through to make it, too! If this Dr. Marks didn't want it, perhaps he'd drink it himself after the man left. Good sedatives were too precious to waste these days, after all. Besides, after having his mid-afternoon wine break so rudely interrupted, a nice nap would do him some good.

"Dr. Marks," he repeated, nodding to himself. "I recognize you now. You're the invalid, aren't you? The catatonic man, little more than a dull-eyed mouth to be fed with our precious, limited food supplies? Yes, you're the one. It seems that you've made a miraculous recovery, then. Excellent news indeed. The world has indeed been washed away, every empire of man and beast reduced to little more than submerged stones for clams and barnacles to grow upon. A sad fate to be sure, but one shared by us all."

The man's assurance that he was no threat was, of course, the first thing anybody threatening would say. Vulpin's hand inched towards the long, pointed ice pick in his desk, but he didn't grab it quite yet. Fast movements might upset the madman, and he certainly didn't want to do that. Besides, there was always a chance that the layabout invalid was actually telling the truth.

"It is always a welcome sight to see a fellow medical professional," he said, raising his wine glass towards Marks. "I must ask, though...have you any proof of your abilities? A tiresome question, I know, but I'm sure you understand its importance. I certainly couldn't let just anyone do such crucial work as mending the ill and injured. Tell me, Doctor Marks. How would one treat repeated, chronic fainting spells? How about hysteria? Aladir's blight? I apologize for quizzing you like a first-year student, but I simply must be sure of your abilities. Having an unqualified person here could be a disaster."

Vulpin contemplated the strange, red-faced man over his wine glass with the cool calculation of an entomologist examining a particularly intriguing insect. The man was an odd one to be sure, but he seemed to have at least a modicum of medical knowledge. That counted for something, at the very least. Even if he was obviously a foreigner, the simple fact that the man was human counted for a lot. After a moment's contemplation, he decided that this man could be of some use to him. If nothing else, he'd be able to lighten his workload by dealing with the more minor complaints and maladies that everyone in the whole damn settlement seemed to be constantly afflicted with. 

"Wise answers indeed, my good sir," said Vulpin, tapping his fingertips together. "You seem to be telling the truth. It's a difficult thing to know what to do without seeing a patient with your own two eyes, but those treatments do seem to be correct. The fact that you haven't heard of Aladir's Blight is troubling, but forgivable. I suppose it's more a matter of medical history than practical medicine. For your edification, I'll tell you the story. Please pay attention, for I simply cannot stand to repeat myself."


"Aladir, as you may know, was a ruler of some renown back in the glory days of the Salian Empire. One night, he stood upon his balcony and gazed out upon his empire, basking in its glory as the sun's rays rose over the distant mountains. The beauty of his land drove him to become overcome with hubris, and he shouted in triumph that no man or god could bring his empire to its knees. The gods must have been listening, for by the time the sun had set, the first cases of a plague were reported. The disease swept across the empire like a wildfire, reducing its population by a quarter and crippling it for generations. The historians refer to it as Aladir's Blight, for it was said that he brought the disease upon his people with his foolish words. From the accounts, historians believe it to be a sort of cholera. As I'm sure you well know, cholera can be treated by taking the afflicted to convalesce at a clear mountain spring and giving them sugar water." 

Spreading his hands wide, Vulpin rose from his seat, gesturing for Dr. Marks to stand. He extended a gloved hand towards the man, a dark droplet of blood barely visible on its back. 

"I am pleased to accept your assistance in my infirmary, Doctor Marks," he said, putting an emphasis on the word my. "We are from Isra, although we're a long way from it now. I'm afraid that I cannot help you with the nurse's prayers. I tend not to put too much stock into the silly superstitions of the common folk, myself. After all, what am I if not a man of science?"