So here's how it went down:
The remainder of Round Eight!
Round Nine happened!
And once the dust settled...
MASHed Up
Or in other words, Strop going to town with descriptions of doctorly stuff
Concussion. Full-thickness burns. Open fractures (including one liberally drenched in hyena spit). Deep oozing lacerations with bits of weapons and shrapnel sticking out of them. Broken noses, teeth, ribs, and God-knew-what-else. With all this it was little wonder that Strop had poofed everybody to the Armor Hospital as soon as the round had ended, wondering all the while whether he should have tightened the rules a little.
"What's the status on bed one?" Strop, this time clad in white-coat and stethoscope instead of his ninja gear, barked as he burst into the Intensive Care Unit (formerly the storage room next to the broom cupboard), which had, as one might guess, room for one bed.
"Still under, Nu- Doc- uhhh, Nur- I mean Doctor Strop," the on-duty nurse stammered. "Blood pressure and heart rate stabilised after the craniotomy."
"Good." Strop rubbed his forehead and stood still for a moment, sighing in relief. Head versus heavy oak table was never going to work out for the head, so when Thoad's pupils went funny and his vitals even funnier, Strop almost dropped a load in his pants, instead of doing what he should have done (and actually did), which was to cut Thoad's skull open and let the extradural haemorrhage drain. He hoped that Thoad hadn't acquired a brain injury to boot, but only time would tell, and until the brain swelling had gone down, he'd have to remember that the top of Thoad's cranium was currently being stored in the freezer, and that he'd have to autoclave it before he put it back where it belonged i.e. on Thoad's head. But for now, at least things were on a more even keel. He hoped Thoad wouldn't mind being shaven bald, or at least mind less than Manta did.
"In that case, if you could get the levels before his next dose of pen, gent & metro, that'd be great. I'll have to leave you to change the catheter, too."
"Yes, Doctor," said the nurse, and with that, Strop left and headed to the ward.
Among the several dozen guests present at the Big Ball who ended up in the hospital due to a range of mercifully minor complaints, were two of the remaining three victestants, one from each team. Neither of them were in much condition to talk, given one was unable to breathe properly due to cracked ribs and punctured lung (for which he got a tube in the chest), and the other was unable to breathe properly due to swelling from the burns all over his chest and neck (for which he got a tube down the throat). Also, the latter had almost dried up his entire emergency supply of O negative. But at least they were now well on the mend, and he could remove the tubes in the next two days or so. As for the other one who got off unharmed-
"Oof," Strop said as he walked directly into a wall of leather armor. Worn by that devil he was just speaking of, Leon McAcid. "Oh, it's you. Why are you still here?"
Leon, eye cocked, looked at Strop cooly before rubbing it. "I have something in my eye."
Strop stared at Leon for a moment, before he remembered he was in benevolent-doctor and not capricious-moderator mode. "Take a seat over there," he motioned towards the procedure room. "I'll take a look in a moment."
Leon flashed his hyena teeth at Strop: "Please hurry," he simpered, "I'm in pain." Then he shuffled off to the room.
Strop scratched his head. That encounter had thrown his rhythm right off. The whole situation just made him uneasy: what was he going to do now with one finalist unharmed and the other needing at least four weeks to fully recover? At least, according to traditional wisdom, though he was quite aware that Crimson was adept with that magic stuff. Maybe he could write a script that would boost his recovery, but of course Strop had no knowledge (or aptitude) for that stuff, so he wouldn't know. But he knew he was starting to feel more subject to the vicissitudes of fate, a fate that had brought a murderous villain to the doorstep of moderation, poised to kick the door down. Was this how things were supposed to happen? Yet Strop could not deny that slowly, subtlely, characters were changing, perspectives being moulded. The tournament, it was shaping people and their stories. He couldn't shake the disturbing feeling that it was doing the same to him.
Finally Strop remembered what he was meant to do. "Nurse, can you remember where the flouriscene is kept?" he called out, before heading to the procedure room. He was painfully aware that he had mostly forgotten how to operate a slit-lamp, but he figured that it wouldn't matter anyway.
---
Finally. It is here.
Your Assignment: Round 9 post-mortem!
This is your opportunity to really flesh out your character motives, what drove them to sign up and persist through this tournament for nearly a year. Things you will need to consider before you begin are:
a) Whether you won or lost that last round, and how this will affect your mental state.
b) Your physical condition (read the entry, it'll be archived, and tally your injuries).
As soon as you are able, Strop will be along to interview you (he will be wearing doctor clothes and have a more professional demeanour), with a purpose to finding out where you're at, what your plans are, and how the tournament may or may not have shaped your perspective. I will give you specific instructions via email, but for now, this is generally what you can expect:
1) Leon will have a conversation with Strop while Strop is examining his eye for a foreign body which may or may not be there. Leon's actions, particularly his uncharacteristic ones, have not gone unnoticed. Xzeno, I'm sure you'll have already anticipated what Strop wants to talk about.
2) Crimson will have the thoracotomy drain tube removed in about two days or so, and will be able to talk a little (not like he talks much anyway). Strop is particularly interested to know how he'll prepare for the final battle, given his significant injuries and the fact he'll be facing an opponent who is already in good condition.
3) Frank's swelling will have gone down sufficiently to allow him to breathe and talk on his own accord shortly after. Strop is still curious to know how his previous line of work (and his apparent distaste for it) translates to trying to be a moderator. And of course, what not?
4) Thoad possibly has the most difficult recovery ahead. He was the most severely injured of the four, and so is brought out from the induced coma about 10 days after the round ended. He may eventually become aware of the fact that his head has been shaven, he can feel his brain directly under his scalp, his arm has a metal scaffolding sticking through it, and that there's a tube stuck up his weiner. He will likely be disoriented. Strop's first priority is to assess whether Thoad has any brain damage, which for our purposes will involve Strop asking Thoad about his recollection of the events, and the conversation will probably proceed from there.
That's enough to get you thinking for now. When I return from work tomorrow, I will email you all the specific stimulus, and we can get cracking!
