Born a Monster

480 Day After Day

The problem with lingering illness is that it lingers. It just takes too long.

I had to turn off the option to engage rapid healing, which accidentally erased my preferred settings. I mean, they already knew about my Health, and I tried to hide my Fitness, but I’m reasonably sure they suspected.

I missed two days entirely because of the fever; by the time the sweat broke, my System had sold back some evolutions. I actually approved of some of them, but there were others...

But I am putting my scribe to sleep.

The diseases were breaking, ratings two to four against my raw Fitness, boosted by the medicines I was receiving. Honestly, I don’t think a single soldier brought to that tent died. I checked my quest, but:

[11/100 enemy soldiers killed, 89 to slay.]

And I know what you’re thinking, that it’s better than nothing. And you would be right, so far as that went. In an army of thousands? They probably lost more people in those two days to accidents.

In spite of [Nausea], my appetite was still fierce. Three meals, eight servings, sometimes as little as six nutrition per serving; it was adequate, if you ignored the fact that other soldiers felt free to just pluck food off my plate onto theirs.

“I dare you to say something.” one of them said.

.....

I coughed in his direction, activated the Cause Disease power. It failed, of course, without even so much as a casting on my part.

“Loki’s blood!” the soldier exclaimed. “That one’s infected.”

As I may have indicated, I was not alone in that. The family Vordham had three tents, each of which could hold twelve cots. On the second day, they moved my cot into the open.

“You’re doing just fine on your own.” Daughter told me. “You’ll be out of here in a week, two at most.”

Oh. Yes, I was mobile by that time. My health was above half, and most of the status effects gave enough warning that I could sit down or wander over to the toilet hole without needing to run. And that earned me bedpan duty. Sometimes a “help a soldier out”, but usually just “You! I need to shit, now!”. I mean, it wasn’t the pulling-fingernails level of discourtesy, but really it was something I shouldn’t have to do.

I did that job, because feces is a great thing to tap for Disease mana, which I seemed to be using a lot of. Besides, it gave me reason to bathe more than once per day. I was usually offered only second-hand water, the sort of stuff I’d have thrown out as worse than nothing. It was how I learned that [Cholera] and [Dysentery] were also making their rounds through the camp.

And I know that working where I was skewed my perception, but it seemed to me that soldiers were arriving in greater numbers than were being healed. This was confirmed when the fourth tent went up, and was filled within the hour.

“You.” son said to me. “What do you know about medicines?”

“I can make both the Minor and Lesser sorts of healing potions.” I said.

“No, not... get your pale butt over here, I’m about to teach you something.”

And before long, he was “No, no. Not like that. You aren’t compounding the medicine, you’re just mixing with some imbuing thrown in.”

“How is compounding different?” I asked.

“You need to envision what the medicines do; think of them joining along those points. Like taking ginseng and garlic, and combining them in a way that gives them more disease removal than just adding them together.”

“That sounds magical in nature.” I said.

“Well, it’s not.” he said. “It’s a science, like cooking or alchemy.”

“Oh, it just uses the Craft Pharmacy skill?” I asked.

“NO! Stop thinking in terms of the low end medicines. Now, one of the simplest compounds; salt and garlic.” He placed both on a small workbench near me.

“Now. Let’s see you compound.”

Like all new skills, there was a lot of screaming and insulting involved. And, due to my low starting skill level, I was only up to twelve percent success rate at the end of that first day.

“Hopeless!” he exclaimed within Mother’s hearing.

“Is he cured yet, or is he still working with penalty conditions. Cause it looks like a minus two ratings from over here.”

Son grumbled, but he sent me to bed without further “assessing” my skill level. My cot had been taken by someone who hadn’t called for a bedpan; it took me half an hour to find where the cot storage was hidden, and to set one up for my use.

In the early morning, or whatever you call that time before the sun even shows itself, Father shook me. Gently, but enough to ensure I was awake. “Tell me what you know about Cleansing cloth and other fabrics. Not just washing, but Cleansing.”

I was still mostly asleep. I rattled off what I’d learned as a Manservant.

“Exactly correct.” he said. “So, we have a lot of... uhm... accidents. We need you to cleanse the cots in the river, and bring them back.”

“I’m. Not. Well. Yet.” I said.

“Yes, which means you’re unlikely to catch anything you’ve already had. Makes you perfect for this task.”

The task, though, was near unending. Forty eight ill people needed constant attention; they were vile units that produced diseased fluids. By the time I brought back the four cots that I could carry at one go (a matter of bulk, not of weight), there were another set of cots to carry right back to the river and start over.

Soaking, boiling, soaping, rinsing. When all of that was done (around mid-afternoon), it was back to bedpans and carrying around a water glass. I wasn’t picky about the water at the bathing point; it was tepid, but it was slightly less dirty than I was. It sufficed.

Then an hour and a half compounding (again with Son) got me nearly enough skill to clear the one in four success mark.

“Better.” he said. “But be glad you’re learning on nearly expired herbs. Your success rate is terrible.”

“If I could extend the time...”

“You would expend multiple times the fatigue on each attempt.” he said. “The army needs you alive.”

“Sure.” I said, looking at the scabs on the end of my fingers. “It has a unique way of showing it.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask; how are you keeping those clean throughout the day? It’s not like you have a pair of gloves.”

I shrugged. “I take what care I can and don’t worry about the rest. I figure after I’ve caught all the diseases two or three times each, I’ll be highly resistant anyway.”

Son yawned. “Oh, to be a doctor in a world where THAT were true. Six months. Your resistance starts going down in no more than six months.”

“Why?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if your System...”

“I’m not talking about Systems.” he said. “Your body has its own defenses. The problem is that they can’t be perfect. To defend against one disease, it weakens against others.”

“Wait. My human body does WHAT?”

“Not just humans. People. Uruk. Goblins. Some sort of legacy from the early Legendary age. The people of that time were said to have changed more than just Systems.”

“They changed bodies? Is that why so many of us have basic humanoid form, two arms two legs, walking upright?”

Not how I’d come by that form, but a lot of the prone animals held to that four limbed structure.

“No.” he said. “Although records from that time are scarce, I don’t think so. I think it’s something else entirely.”

“Like what?”

“I have no clue what!” he snapped. “Why don’t you just get to bed?”

Well, because my bed was occupied. I wasted no time, pulled out a damp but clean cot from the storage, and began to stretch out...

“I hope you’re not asleep already.” Mother said.

I cracked open an eye. “Not for lack of trying.” I said.

“Well, then get up. I’ve got something to show you.”

She led the way to the enclosed wagon at one side of the camp.

“This,” she said, “is a vardo.”

I made a noise between a sigh and a grunt.

“Yup.” she said. “These shelves stuck on the sides are where we grow our garden. The problem is that wooden shelves...”

“Water damage.” I said. It was probably easier to see from my angle than hers.

“Yes. So I need someone, meaning you, to make a run by the lumber yards to get new...”

A cheer went up, and horns sounded the charge.

“What are those idiots doing now?” she asked.

“It sounds like they’re swarming the walls to see if they can get inside.” I said.

“Lunacy. Anyway, take a look at the size of these shelves. I need them matched precisely.”

Why the hell not? It wasn’t like I was getting to sleep anytime soon.

Specifically, slips, trips, and falls, in spite of what bards would have you believe. Although, in an army that large, I wouldn’t put duels and “weapon accidents” out of the realm of possibility.

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