Things Forgotten and Found

Things Forgotten and Found

Postby Rattrap » Fri Dec 20, 2002 1:41 pm

There is, not too far away from the Broken Dagger in fact, a building. This building is one of the newest buildings in Myrken Wood, with barely a year to its time. A doctor had the place built; he opted for support from various sources, and eventually got enough to build what he named the Rememdium Edificium.

The Rememdium Edificium was supposed to be a place of healing and rest. That's exactly what it was, for a time; with Dr. David D'Rael crushing whatever herbs and plants he could get his hands on along with the occasional broken bone someone suffered from a scared horse, it was altogether a place of hope, even if unneeded during the time.

It was simple in its design. After all, it was a doctor, not a carpenter, who designed it. One large chamber welcomed the sick or injured, with three passages to choose from. To the entrance's left, there was a square room that butted into the large chamber - this was where David kept track of things on various rolls of parchment, as the room contained a single desk littered with them.

Two doors stood at the entrance's right, leading into a shelved room stocked with the various brews and potions David crushed and cooked and an adjacent hallway, leading around the back of the large chamber giving access to four nearly identical rooms, each with a hay bed for the wounded or severely sick.

The times did not last all that long.

The doctor disappeared, leaving only a small number with the knowledge of the how. The building underwent a quick dilapidation, far faster than any normally abandoned building would have; in fact, the traces of darker things at work is apparent to anyone who walks into the empty rooms. Even the darker things, however, left the building almost as quickly as they had come.

Time passed, and the building was left to rot.

But a man finally does take up housing in the decrepit Rememdium Edificium. His nostrils flair with the taint of those darker things long past, yet he continues farther in. The knowledge of the building's history has already been bestowed upon him, despite his never having stepped foot inside. The dead have worlds of stories to tell.

Dark skinned as he is, the man quickly sets up camp in the late doctor's office. He respectfully removes the littered parchments, rolling them up carefully to be placed on a dusty shelf that shared the room. Contents of bags were emptied, and soon the desk was just as cluttered as before. Two books, one considerably larger than the other, were set down, the larger one quite carefully while the smaller, plainer one, was simply dropped haphazardly. The small book was accompanied by a black vial and a quill, both pushed aside so as to not accidentally get knocked over. A couple of the parchments laid down by David were kept on the desk, apparently of some use to the man. Finally, a human skull was placed, facing the door - the eyeless sockets served as undying watch guards of the man's new haven.

He dropped himself into the plain looking chair that had also collected its own thin film of dust. Bony knuckles served to support a sharp chin, high cheekbones, and cold hazel eyes that studied everything with a hard apathetic edge.

But it was an act.

The man wasn't apathetic. He wasn't without care - but he did have a purpose. One that would be paused, if not defeated, should imprisonment or death fall upon him. Either was less likely if he could simply look a certain way - and there wasn't any denying this.

A sigh escapes the man, and he runs the unoccupied hand through his stark black hair. He shook his head, having done what preparations he needed to do. The sun had gone down.

Sleep came quickly, blessed as it was.
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Rattrap
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