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| Brother, Can You Spare an Eye? [FIN]; [P] Dr. Fixitt | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sat May 26, 2012 9:56 pm (607 Views) | |
| Shan Orison | Sat May 26, 2012 9:56 pm Post #1 |
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The strange bard had been down at the docks for the past few nights. The foreman figured that, in Striberg, this was most likely the most lively place after the sun set, though he wondered why the man didn't settle in one of the inns or taverns to play. Everyone here was too busy to pay him much mind, and no one was paying him to stay. He still came anyway, speaking to the dockworkers on their breaks and the sailors that rode in under the stars. The most he ever got for payment was after the sun began to rise and the nightworkers bunked off to get some greasy breakfast and even greasier coffee. The workers would often get something for the bard, who tagged along, or give him bits of their own meal. The bard didn't say much. He mostly ate and listened. Really, the dock's foreman thought, he should chase the man away. This was no place for a pansy minstrel. Except the man did manage to always stay out of the way. He never bothered his employees, and things seemed much smoother when he played. The foreman didn't know why, but everyone seemed to work harder and quicker, to the beat of the violin music. Even he felt himself feeling just a touch stronger and his steps a bit lighter. The bard himself was amiable enough, just as interested in stories about the workers' families as he was in tales of sea monsters and shipwrecks. So, in the end, the bard stayed as long as he felt like it, as long as he behaved. And the bard was here again tonight, playing some simple background medley of sea chanties as he sat next to a tall stack of crates, and everyone got to work with renewed vigor. As far as the dock's foreman could see, it was the same as the past three nights. Everything ran smooth as butter, until he heard the yells and crash. He didn't know how it happened. One witness said a drunk sailor stumbled into the stack of crates, another said they'd been precariously perched and just waiting to fall. Either way, the loaded crates fell. A quick headcount showed none of his men had been caught in the landslide of wood and goods, but his ears told him that the music stopped. It took some shifting to finally uncover the bard's body. Oddly enough, it was he that suffered the most from the fall. His violin seemed to be in perfect condition. The foreman was no healer, but he'd seen enough injuries in his long life of unloading and loading the ships of Striberg to quickly diagnose many of the injuries. There were cuts and bruises aplenty, and bones that were shattered and ribs there were splintered. The man's hands seemed to have been caught between a crate and his violin, and it was his fingers that gave and broke. It sounded as though he was struggling to breathe, but he was breathing. Splinters and broken bits of wood were littered all over his face, arms, and legs, his torso protected by the violin's body. One even pierced his eye so the man couldn't blink without enduring pain. "Get him clear!" the foreman shouted. "Jerry, Browsin, get something to carry him on, now!" "I'll get that out," one of the workers said, bending over to pluck out the shard in the bard's eye. "No don-AHHH!" the bard screamed, covering his newly cleared right eye with an arm. The foreman's stomach rolled as white puss streamed down the man's cheek. Severed limbs were one thing, but an eye injury, that was something he couldn't stand. He glared at the man who plucked the shard out. "YOU a healer, Harold?" He growled. "I...I was just..." Harold said, shaking at the repercussions of his failed first aid. "Sit your ass down! Jerry! Where's that stretcher?!" "Here it is!" Jerry said, returning with Browsin, carrying a long plank of wood with handles between them. There were more than a few bloodstains on it from previous injuries. Several in the past never made it, although recently most of his men had not only survived but returned to work in a few days, thanks to a new crackpot of a doctor in town. "Will he make it?" Browsin asked, his thick eyebrows knitted in concern. The foreman thought before speaking, waiting for his workers to lift the bard into the stretcher before speaking. "Take him to Fixitt. Bastard owes me enough favors with his turf wars. He'll be up this time of night." Jerry and Browsin nodded, hurrying away from the sea, the bard letting out small gasps and yelps with each sway and jolt. The foreman stared around at the inorganic mess made by the avalanche of crates. "Right," he said, looking around. "It's in Fixitt's hands now. We've got this to clean up before dawn. Let's get to it, boys." |
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| Fixitt | Sun May 27, 2012 4:44 am Post #2 |
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Fixitt sighed as he put on his work clothes, a baggy white shirt, plain brown leather pants, and some old brown boots. This was hardly his favorite attire, but there was a lot of blood in the work he did, and the shirts he could buy in bulk. Once he was closed he sat down in his chair, just relaxing as a chubby middle aged man was dusting the dozen wooden chairs lining the walls. He felt relaxed, composed, until someone kicked his door open, he saw two familiar men carrying an odd looking man on a bloodied plank, Fixitt sighed as he brushed a strand of blonde hair out of his golden eyes. He knew the men were from the docks... that meant this was a favor from the Dock Master, Fixitt stood up as he spoke, "Come on, follow me, we'll get your friend up and ready to go as fast as possible." He brought the men into the back room, a cold steel table was in the center and around it were smaller tables filled with tools and objects meant for torture or healing, few could tell the difference. Fixitt shooed the two men away and called out, "Rummsfield, get the poppy and give the man a double dose, from his wounds he has severe damage to his ribs, arms, and hands. He's lucky his legs are fine besides two... maybe three hairline fractures, but the worst part is the eye, we'll have to cut off the empty sack and replace it. If we had some more of that sleeping agent we could knock him out for a long time, give him what we have, he may wake up in parts of the operation, but he'll be to drowsy to do much about it besides falling back to sleep." Rummsfield went about measuring out a tonic of crushed poppy and some orange liquid, turning it into a dark purple, the sleeping agent and crushed poppy would be mixed for maximum effect. Rummsfield went about pouring the tonic slowly down the injured man's throat, massaging it slowly to force the patient to drink the concoction if he couldn't himself. Fixitt put on a pair of white gloves and shook his head, it would be a long day of bone mending. He took out a set of odd thin knives, making short but deep incisions until the tip scraped the bone, he widened the wound a bit to look at the cracks in his bones, going through the motions of pouring odd tonics down into the wounds. He went about this business every other inch of bone, pouring a small amount of healing potion over the bleeding wound to seal it without a mark. He sighed as his last bone mending came, the rib cage. He slowly felt the ribs and sighed, the man just needed to rest for most of it... but a few were in danger of piercing his lungs. Fixitt was forced to do a short surgery, unfortunately this meant the patient's shirt was now cut down the center. With Rummsfield's help, when he wasn't running out of the room to conduct his own business with a bucket, he set the bones back into place, using a small amount of tonics, potions, and a natural adhesive that would become part of the bone after a few weeks. He sighed as the last of the cuts sealed on the man's chest, but dreaded the last part, he had long enough chances to examine the eye, and he knew the exact shape, size, and color it needed to be... but he only had one eye that matched it, and he didn't want to use an injured man as a guinea pig. He only hesitated for a moment before cutting out the empty eyeball from the nerve connecting it, he knew his patient would feel the sharp pain even through the surgery, he looked to Rummsfield, "Get me the prototype eye... W type." Rummsfield nodded, rushing over to the far walls, he searched through the eyes until he found the one he was looking for, it was an odd white marble eye with a single green circle to imitate the color of the eye. Rummsfield rushed it back to Fixitt, who immediately lined up the small magic node on the back of it with the man's old nerve. The eye connected with it at the yellow node in the back, suddenly repairing itself and popping back into place. Fixitt sighed as he turned away, his clothes bloody from fixing the man's ribs, he would need to switch his shirt. He took off his shirt and tossed it onto the ground, speaking to Rummsfield as he went out back to the front, planning on taking a shirt from the closet near the door, "Once the man is awake give him a revitalization tonic, it'll be bitter but it'll snap him out of a stupor. Once he's awake and alert tell him to come out here, I'll be on my chair resting." Rummsfield simply nodded as he began cleaning, while Fixitt simply went for a new short and a short nap in his chair. |
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| Shan Orison | Sun May 27, 2012 4:31 pm Post #3 |
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The world was softened light and muffled sounds. Shan opened his eyes, only to quickly shut them again, or at least the right one. As oddly as the left eye currently saw the world, the right's view was even more jumbled, a confusing collection of colored lines. His numbed hand covered it. Shan looked around the room, trying to call out, but the only sounds his lips emitted were far from words, just mumbled protosyllables. A man with a slight paunch moved into his line of sight. He spoke, holding up a vial of some sort. All the words sounded like they were filtered through wet cotton, but Shan's sluggish brain worked out that, possibly, the man wanted him to drink it. It couldn't present any reasons not to, so his hand reached out, groped a bit due to a lack of depth perception, and took the vial, leading it to his lips to gulp down. The wet cotton in his mind began to dissolve in an acidic blaze as the bitter potion coated his mouth and throat. He hacked and coughed, his ribs feeling slightly stiff, trying to clear his senses of the taste. He sat up, still coughing, his thoughts gearing back up to normal speed. Well, that had to be medicine, his second thoughts said. Nothing else would taste that vile. "Th-thank you," He managed to get out as his coughing reflex subsided. He began to review what led him to laying here numbed and drugged, but most of his coherent thoughts ended at a vision of boxes descending from the darkness above. He remember he'd been hurt, but looking down at himself and testing his limbs, the worst casualty seemed to be his severed shirt. And his right eye. He still kept that squeezed shut. "Are you the one who fixed me up?" "No," the man said, putting the empty vial away. "That would be Dr. Fixitt. He's waiting to speak to you in the next room." The man pointed to a doorway. "Who are you?" "What?" "What's your name, if you don't mind my asking? I'm Shan." "Call me Rummsfield." "Thank you, Rummsfield," Shan said. Rummsfield made a small noise. It could either be of annoying or approval, but Shan guessed it meant he didn't have much more to say to him. Shan summoned his violin to hand from wherever it'd been left and stiffly got down from the table, looking around the room. The place seemed covered with complicated tools, blades, and implements, and what didn't have these had body parts. Shan stared a bit until he realized that they were artificial, made of metal. He recalled seeing several of the dock workers going about their job with a hand or leg they couldn't have been born with. The place looked bizarre, but somehow felt homey to Shan. It took a moment for it to click in his mind why. This was a room of healing. It was certainly set up differently than the front room of his childhood home, and used a great deal more tools than herbs, but the basic purpose was the same. He could feel the slight tingle of healing magic that tends to soak into such places, along with pain, fear, hope, and faith that things will get better. Shan wondered if he'd stumbled upon another variety of witch. He headed through the door Rummsfield indicated earlier, stepping carefully as he tested each leg. The last thing he wanted was to fall on his face while still recuperating from whatever happened. The centerpiece of the next room was a large, comfy chair, in which was a thin blond man with metal limbs of similar design to those in the healing ward. Shan wasn't certain what sort of healer he was yet, but his brain switched to thinking of him as a "respected witch." After all, he didn't come here on his own, he was certain. Someone brought him here due to their trust in this man. Shan bowed. "Hello," he said, straightening up. "I'm not sure what I owe you, but I'm guessing the list starts with my life. Thank you." His right eye came open again. He scrunched the lid shut and rubbed at it. He hoped the odd signals it was interpreting would clear up soon. Otherwise, he'd need to invest in an eyepatch. |
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| Fixitt | Sun May 27, 2012 9:48 pm Post #4 |
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Fixitt rested in his chair, but just before he could fall asleep he heard some footsteps, and finally his patient was up and about. He listened to his words and sighed, "I owe the dock master more favors then I can count, he gets me supplies cheap, I fix up his men, and he helps me keep competition away." He waited for a few moments before standing up and stretching, placing his flesh hand on his chest, putting a bit of pressure on it, he felt no odd movements, he felt no real cracks, the adhesive was holding strong. He brought his hand back as he smirked, "Though I will admit I did well in this job, had to cut open some deep incisions in your arms, legs, and I had to remove the front of your chest to get to the injured ribs. I admit it was touch and go sometimes, one or two of the ribs were ready to puncture your lungs, bloody lucky I was awake, or else you would probably be dead on the operating table, try wiggling your fingers, if there's any pain I have few things that could help with that." He started to stare at Shan's closed right eye, it wasn't possible for the eye not to work... it should see something, but why did the man have it closed. He pondered that for only a moment, deciding it was better to ask then guess, "I replaced your eye flawlessly to... but why do you have it closed? From the way I made it, it should be able to see things just fine. It was the only eye that could fit comfortably in your eye socket, cost me a few thousand gold to find the node, the material, and finally the magic ink I needed for runes. If it isn't working I would need to take it back for calibration, but you'll have your eye. So... tell me whats wrong, is it dark or to bright? Be specific please." He needed all of the information possible, that way he could fix it or make a new one for himself, possibly even both. |
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| Shan Orison | Sun May 27, 2012 10:20 pm Post #5 |
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Shan listened to the litany of injuries he sustained on the docks. It definitely didn't sound good. He'd have to do something for the dock master to get him to such a skilled healer so quickly. He wasn't certain what, yet, but he'd come up with something. Didn't he have a daughter? Maybe Shan could find something for him to give to her. He tucked his violin under one arm and wiggled his fingers. "They just feel a bit stiff," Shan said. "It's getting better as I move them, so exercising should fix that." His surprise at Dr. Fixitt rose when the man said that, instead of healing his eye, he actually replaced it. Shan couldn't fully remember how badly he'd harmed it, but he recalled someone moving to remove some irritation from it, and he remembered his personal levels of pain rose quickly after that. Thankfully, it also seemed it was constructed like the legs and arms lining the walls of his healing room, and not salvaged from some poor soul's socket. "It...doesn't seem to be working right," Shan said to the doctor's concerns at his holding the eye shut. "It doesn't hurt, but..." Shan forced himself to hold the right eye open, closing the left to compensate the juxtaposition of images. "I don't really see anything normally. Everything's off, colorwise, and seems to keep moving around." He looked over at Dr. Fixitt, observing the odd shadings and lines that moved over his form, blending and sinking into the abstraction of his chair. "I mean...I guess I can sort of see things, but it's all very, very weird." He shut his right and opened his left, resetting the world to comforting solids. "It's impressive that you can actually make eyes, though. They're really complex in their form and function. I'm guessing that a lot of the people at the docks were there working thanks to your handiwork with legs and hands, too, and they work just as well as their original, if not better. And, well, I'd still like to do something to pay you back for saving me, even if you feel otherwise. I'm sure there's something I can do to help you." |
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| Fixitt | Mon May 28, 2012 12:26 am Post #6 |
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Fixitt listened to the description of how the eye was working, his bored expression soon became a wide smile as he started to speak, "Wait... that kind of thing can't be effected by my inscriptions... could this mean... the marble! Of course, it's the marble, I got it for half price because it was used in some odd magical blood ritual to give sight to... magic! The odd lines, the different colors, you're seeing the IME, the individual magical effect, of everything around you! This is phenomenal! That must be it, my IME is gold, which is probably what you see parts of me like, but my arm must be grey from the lack of special magics in it while my leg is probably sky blue thanks to the abundance of magic that was needed to craft it. Oh I must study the other pieces of that marble." He looked behind Shan to the door and called out, "Rummsfield! Gather up the marble we have left over and put it in the danger bin and put it in my room, I'll be doing an extensive study of it soon to figure out what the mages did to make the marble enchanted!" Rummsfield gave a gruff answer to acknowledge Fixitt's words. Fixitt stood up and walked back over to the closet, once it was opened he stepped inside and closed it, walking out a few moments later in new clothes. He wore an old black hat with a white band, a single red feather sticking out of the band, his suit was a set of black pants and a black jacket, a white button up shirt with a red tie, and finally black shoes. His blonde hair that was tied back was no flowing freely. He motioned for Shan to follow as he headed for the door, "Come come, we must test the eye out some more! We'll go to the docks and you'll tell me all of the different colors and odd shapes of everyone! Oh this is exciting! This is almost as good as figuring out how to work quicksilver into a viable material for prosthetic research. In theory your eye should be able to see the flow of mana and even see when people are casting spells, giving you a warning when someone doesn't need to move or speak to cast magic. Now once I know your name we can be off to the docks." It didn't matter if the man refused or not, he needed a test subject and if he was like the other dock workers, he would be glad to get rid of a personal debt. |
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| Shan Orison | Mon May 28, 2012 12:47 am Post #7 |
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"Um...It's Shan. Shan Orison. I'm a bard." Shan lifted his hand to cover his left eye and opened the right, looking through it again. If he shifted his mind to think about what he saw as not material images but the flow of magic, it wasn't so confusing. It was damn hard to work out still, but it took some of the queasiness away. He looked over at Dr. Fixitt, using what he shared with Shan to confirm his theory. The majority of the lines around the man were, indeed, golden in hue, flowing along his nervous and cardiovascular systems, growing and flowing around and into the air above his skin. The prosthetic arm was...not quite grey, but grey was the closest shade he could think to call it. The leg also had lines of almost grey, but woven with it was the bright blue he'd mention. "And...I'm not sure you're right, but I can definitely see what you described, and it makes more sense if I think of what I see as the flow of magic instead of something that's supposed to be physically stable." Out of curiosity, he looked down at his own hand. There were the quiet reds that he and the doctor shared, most likely denoting their personal supply of lifesustaining mana, but along with that was the sort of flowing color that Shan had only seen when he closed his eyes and listened to music. He didn't have a name for the color, but it was fascinating to watch it shift and move with the ambient sounds of the room. What was that about a blood ritual? his common sense said. "Um...what sort of ritual?" Shan asked. "I mean, it wasn't the 'sacrifice a hundred virgins to summon a dark god' sort of ritual, was it?" He shut his right eye and uncovered his left. "And do you have any spare kerchiefs or something I could use as an eyepatch? Looking around with both eyes is something that would take some getting used to. Oh, and, well, yes...I don't mind coming down to the docks. I need to thank the foreman for getting me to you so fast, anyway." |
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| Fixitt | Mon May 28, 2012 1:42 pm Post #8 |
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Fixitt listened to Shan and smirked, so he was right about what he was seeing exactly, that meant he could take his research to new lengths. He chuckled when Shan asked about the blood ritual and asked for an eye patch, "There's some bandages in the closet, you could wrap one around your head to block your sight, but I would suggest getting used to seeing with both as soon as possible. As for the blood ritual, some nobleman's son wanted to learn dark magic and failed, it was originally to see a legendary being that governed magic and the flow of mana, but he failed since he couldn't see through marble... the stupid git. He only cut his hand a bit and poured a bit of blood over it, I made sure to have it scrubbed clean before I worked on it." Dirty objects could lead to infection, and he didn't like treating infections, that meant more money gone, more favors owed, and less materials for his experiments. He waited for Shan to decide whether or not to put the bandages on or to go without them, once he had done what he needed to do, Fixitt set off, beckoning Shan to follow. Once outside Fixitt looked around, the sun was slowly setting, it had taken a while for the operation, now it was time to get Shan to move, walking would help him recover, not plenty of bed rest... but some wouldn't hurt. He turned his head to look at Shan, "You're probably hungry aren't you? It must have been more then a couple of hours since you were last awake, takes forever to set bones, must have been wrist deep in your chest for a while. We should stop at the kabob stand just before entering the docks, Istani food is always best to warm ya up just before nightfall. I got the man's sun a metal leg so he can play with the other kids, gives me a few free kabobs." He had helped plenty of people like that, children born without legs, arms, or even had them destroyed by cruel people, he didn't turn down any patients, even if they couldn't repay him. |
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| Shan Orison | Mon May 28, 2012 2:17 pm Post #9 |
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Shan grabbed the bandages and loosely wrapped them around his head. He agreed, he needed to learn to get along with this eye, but Fixitt seemed to be in a hurry, the same way a dog is in a rush to go out to play. For now, he'd prefer to not trip over his feet attempting to work out what was physical and what was magical. He'd begin to learn when he could remain stationary. "Kabobs sound good," Shan said, quickening his steps to keep up with the energetic doctor. "Though I'm not very good with super spicy foods..." Shan's thoughts drifted to the last time he sampled Istani fare, which was in Istan city itself. He'd learned that, though their food was delicious, and the spices smelled divine, it was best to treat it with caution if you weren't raised with it. He'd also learned that his dining partner wasn't an enterprising merchant, but a ruthless, deranged elven slaver in disguise. If this new eye could let him see through such illusions, then this accident was a major boon. They reached the stand in question, Shan led more by his nose than Fixitt's lead. Shan accepted his skewer, mouth watering at the roasted vegetables and chicken. Out of curiosity, he pulled up his bandages to look around him, amused and not too surprised that the earthy tones of the kabob stand's chef moved down and blended with the meat and spices. After all, his cousin Ban always said that a chef put some of themselves in what they prepared. There was also the shifting reds of the coals that moved upward, and the inherent mana of the food itself. More and more, he was going to need the bandage to keep himself from standing around like a slackjawed idiot. "Thank you," he said to the chef, and began to dig in. There was spice, but not enough to set his delicate tongue aflame, letting him enjoy the flavor rather than suffer from it. "So...to the docks, then?" |
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| Fixitt | Mon May 28, 2012 10:34 pm Post #10 |
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Fixitt lead him to the cart and took a few of the kabobs for himself, eating a few quickly before he heard Shan mention the docks again. Fixitt nodded with his mouth full and kept on eating as they walked, he barely finished his food before making it to the docks. He looked around at the men moving boxes, eating meals from nearby shops or from their wives that brought them food. He licked his fingers of the spices as he walked towards a small wooden hut, it was the place where the dock masters stored their documents and relaxed during breaks. Fixitt tapped on the door and called out, "I fixed the bard, come on out and look at him!" He heard something muffled and shrugged, looking to Shan, "Lets try out that eye, from left to right start describing the flow of mana of the people only." He smiled as he thought of all of the possible applications, seeing magic being cast was only one of them, you would be able to tell an illusory wall from a normal wall with a bit of training, magical items would be easier to spot, and other things that could help him. Though for now he had to experiment with Shan, after that he would need to look over his marble and craft a second eye, this way he could duplicate the process and make his own special eye. |
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| Shan Orison | Tue Jun 5, 2012 10:15 pm Post #11 |
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"Alright," Shan said, turning to look over at the dock workers, the ones eating lunch looking up and watching the two. They probably knew Fixitt, but these were the daytime workers and didn't know Shan except, perhaps, by rumors. Shan shut his eyes, uncovered his right eye, then opened it, looking around him. He was dizzied by the variety of magical streams here. There was a mass of deep blues, light translucent colors, and others he couldn't fully describe, but there were small caches of magic of all sorts of colors from the people and cargo and ships in the harbor, testament of the variety of locations and travels everything here had undergone. There were a few more seconds of slack-jawed wonder at the overwhelming spectrums of the world and refocused on the nearest workers, or at least human shapes. "Um...Alright," he said, once his focus was sufficiently narrowed. "Let's see...there's the rusty red colors that I think is just life mana, since everyone alive I've seen has that. There's...a lot of stormy greys and blues and other colors, otherwise...except for him." He pointed at one of the shapes. "He's got a lot more browns, with only a smidgeon of blue." There was a round of laughter at this. Shan switched open eyes to see the dockworkers laughing at the one of their number he'd singled out. "You got some sort of magic eye from Fixitt?" one asked. "Works real well, it does!" "Always knew you were a land lubber, Bailey!" "Shut yer traps, you," Bailey growled. "Ain't my fault I get seasick." "That's why he's working the docks," the first dock worker said. "Wanted to be a sailor like his dad, but can't set foot on a ship without losing his lunch." "Oh, um, sorry," Shan said. "I didn't mean to..." "Everyone knows already," Bailey said. "What does that eye see, anyway? Seems like you ate some sort of interested mushroom, from the way you were gawking." "Um, magic?" Shan said. "I'm not exactly certain how it works. Fixitt's the one who put it in. He'd be able to explain, better." |
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| Fixitt | Wed Jun 6, 2012 3:24 am Post #12 |
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Fixitt listened to the descriptions and made mental notes of it, even taking special care to note that a person's way of life effected the colors, meaning the individual magical effect constantly evolved and changed. Though when his sight turned out to spot out the so called 'landlubber' of the group of dock workers, that meant it would be easier to spot oddities among people. Though when they asked about the eye and Shan said he didn't completely know, it was up to Fixitt to fully explain, "You see, mana is in everything and everyone, this eye can see concentrated mana, like in our bodies or in magical spells. This means that his eye can spot people with a lot of mana and even tell when someone is casting magic when they aren't speaking or moving. Though I believe the only thing he wouldn't be able to see is anti-magic, which would be a like a void in his sight." Though that part was only theory, he felt it was appropriate, but for now he had more tests to conduct. He looked around at the objects in the area, there were mostly crates, pieces of wood, and the occasional caged animal. He spread his arms out, "Now, tell me about the mana of the surrounding area... not just the people, but the wood, steel, stone, even the sea itself, tell me what you see." This was the last test he needed Shan to do, the rest could be done by study and testing when he made a new eye. |
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| Shan Orison | Wed Jun 6, 2012 3:14 pm Post #13 |
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"Right," Shan said. He probably could have explained, with much stumbling and pausing, but he was still working in the realm of assumptions, while Dr. Fixitt had put some serious study into this, while Shan simply absorbed a few things about magic from his mother when he wasn't running off to practice his violin. He switched eyes again, this time with a more focused audience. "Well, it's actually...when you start looking at everything, there's a lot to see. I mean, the ocean is a mass of blues and greys and greens, and there's this....not really a color, but I think it's part of the air, but then..." He trailed off as he looked about. The only thing he could see was magic, he suspected, but magic was in everything. He wanted to stay scientific in his descriptions for Dr. Fixitt's sake, but if he wanted Shan to describe what he was seeing throughout the docks, he'd have to go bardic. "The docks are a connecting point throughout not only Imythess, but the entire world," he began, "And the magic here reflects that. To describe it is like describing all the colors in an opal, or the shades of an intricate quilt. It's a patchwork, a tapestry, of all sorts of shades that shouldn't match but somehow do. It's almost any color you could name, and others that you can only dream of, all brought here and woven together by the sailors and dockworkers of Chaon." He stopped and turned to the doctor. "Um, in other words, it's a bit hard to describe everything that I see in any appreciable amount of time. It'd be like describing every detail of a landscape painting or someone's face with words. All you can do is give a rough outline until they see it themselves." The door to the dock master's building opened, and the face of the night foreman peered out. "Was someone knocking?" he asked, stepping out. "Ah, it's you, Fixitt. And you're looking well for someone who looked like they'd been sent through a meat grinder last I saw them, Mr. Bard." "Oh, um, thank you for getting me to Dr. Fixitt so quickly, sir," Shan said, giving a slight bow. "He says that if you hadn't, I probably wouldn't be standing here. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, just tell me." "Well, if you could come down to play a bit more, that'd be good," the foreman said, stepping out fully. "I know the boys appreciate it. Now what was going on that has everyone gawking like some old women rather than working." "The doc gave the bard some sort of magic eye, and he's testing it out," one worker said. "He could even tell that Bailey got seasick just by looking at him!" "Um, I didn't know he was seasick until you told me -" Shan began, but the foreman interrupted. "Testing it out, you say?" he said, staring first at Shan, then Dr. Fixitt. "Fixitt, I'm glad of the work you do, and I don't mind the deal we've got going, and if my boys ask for some enhanced limbs when they get fixed up, then I'm not gonna interfere if they can still work. However, I know for a fact that the bard was in no shape to accept anything 'extra' when I sent him to you." "Sir, I don't mind it, to be honest-" The foreman held up a hand to cut Shan off. "Not talking to you, bard. I need to know that the good doctor isn't planning to use our deal as an excuse to experiment on my workers without permission, or if I'm going to have to seek out such services elsewhere, someone I can trust to not add things that aren't asked for." He glared at Fixitt, his scowl suggesting he'd be willing to toss the man into the ocean if he gave the wrong response. |
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| Fixitt | Sun Jun 10, 2012 4:37 am Post #14 |
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Fixitt listened to Shan's description, taking note that there was far to much emotion for it to be a real scientific test, but it was at least pretty. He kept a note to make some kind of lens to duplicate the effect since Shan seemed to be unable to give him an exact description. Then the Dock Master came out, shouting and talking with the others, until he heard about the magic eye. He went off on a whole spiel about how he could trust him if he was adding things without being asked, and with that Fixitt grinned, "You think I did the eye seeing magic thing on purpose? The eye was supposed to function like a normal one, we both know half of my stuff is either pure genius or pure luck, it's not my fault the marble had an enchantment on it before it was carved, I thought it was just a bunch of teenage mumbo jumbo to try and get their parent's attention." With that Fixitt took a few steps forward, looking the man straight in the eye. He stared for a few moments before speaking, "If I had the ability to sense that kind of small latent enchantment and know that it had an odd effect with the inscriptions and node I set into it I wouldn't have put something so valuable inside his head! Though now because of this it has opened up a new avenue for my genius to spread, some of your dock workers that lost eyes will be able to get normal ones, now that I know the marble is enchanted I just need to get new marble or any other kind of stone or metal. I swear the fact that the eye can see things beyond a normal scope was unintended and just as surprising to me as it was to Shan. Now with that over I can swear that it'll never happen again, I don't make the same mistake twice in prosthetics work." That much wasn't really true, he often made the same mistake when it came to new and cutting edge prosthetic limbs, but those were prototypes and unexplored territory... plus, he didn't need to know that. |
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| Shan Orison | Sun Jun 10, 2012 6:40 pm Post #15 |
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The foreman stared down at Fixitt, chewing slowly on a wad of tobacco, contemplating his explanation. "Alright," he finally said. "Don't think your head's screwed on straight, Fixitt, but you've done all right by me and my boys. And new eyes...gods know we get enough of them poked out." He nodded to Fixitt and looked over at the workers. "I see plenty of cargo that needs moved! Get your arses in gear and move it, you lot! You ain't paid to gawk. Fixitt, Bard," he said, nodding to each in turn, and headed back inside. "Glad you didn't get in trouble," Shan said to Fixitt, "And, um, sorry about not being able to give something more concrete as a description. It's just, you ask me to describe everything and, well, that's a lot, though I wonder what sort of deal you have with them that gets them so many free operations with-Ow!" Shan's gentle prodding where his nose didn't belong was cut short as he tried to navigate the docks with both his eyes open. He was beginning to get used to the double vision the dual images gave him, and his brain was starting to blend them into a cohesive hole, but he ended up banging his shin against a heavy hip high crate in his path. Shan rubbed his leg and grumbled. His grumbles faded, though, as he stared at the box. "Um, Dr. Fixitt?" Shan said. "There's something weird about this crate." He covered his right eye. The crate was just that: a heavy wooden crate, well constructed with nothing remarkable about it. He covered his left eye and looked with his right, comparing it to the other crates. He could tell some sort of dried green color and some greyish points that connected then in the other crates, which marked the wood and nails that formed them, but this crate didn't match them. "It might be just me, and this'll sound weird, but, this one looks more like it's a painting of a crate rather than an actual crate. I mean, to my right eye, like someone just made it look like a crate. Could you take a look at it?" Shan stepped aside for the doctor to look at it and tell him he was being ridiculous. His gut said otherwise, but he'd leave the final call to someone who's actually studied magic, rather than someone who only half listened as he doodled musical notes. |
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2:45 PM Jul 11

