The Twisted Thoughts of a Barovian Apprentice

[ShadyWraith]

[The following journal is quite old and tattered, well used, and containing an abundance of information of varying origins.  To most it would seem to be a book used for studying, though the semi vile nature made it seem to be something a bit darker.]

Entry 1:

I have begun an apprenticeship working below Vallaki's Chirurgeon Jusuf Hakiam.  He has agreed to take me under his wing and for that I am grateful.  Despite his reputation, he seems quite knowledgeable, and I plan on soaking up whatever he has to offer.  He has given me a coat to wear while I work, a set of tools for performing procedures, and a book on the anatomy of humans and non humans alike.  I have informed him that I will spend as much time with him as possible, even if only in observation. 

My first task is to read and study the book and the simple procedures which have been outlined.  Flawless knowledge of the body is required, and I must build a solid foundation before I can begin any hands on work.  This may prove to be my most difficult task, but once I've mastered it I will be able to move forward and learn more. 

Entry 2:

There are hardly words to describe my fascination with the things that I've been able to learn thus far.  I am nearly halfway through the book and have been able to observe a few simple procedures that have been performed.  Jusuf's technique is flawless and he works with a certain amount of confidence that I envy.  He has taught me a few simple procedures, and I have to admit that wound care is my favorite so far. 

Some of the men who come in have wounds which have been festering for months.  They must be scraped out and disinfected before they can even be packed and begin the healing process.  They come day after day to have the dressings changed, and it baffles me at how poorly they care for themselves, despite the obvious potential for becoming gravely ill should their wounds not heal properly.

Entry 3:

I am able to handle most of the wound care myself.  Jusuf oversees my work and teaches me new technique's daily.  I have completed the book and began to read through it a second time, taking more detailed notes this time around in order to retain vital information.

Entry 4:

I have taken on a second job assisting the Vallaki Guard as a field medic.  This gives me the opportunity to further my skills and while also assisting the city where I live.  I am able to treat the sick and injured regularly, applying the things that I learn in a different sort of setting.

[ShadyWraith]

[A number of torn pages have been tucked into the book.  There is no writing on them, and it could be guessed that they were all taken from the same book.]

[ShadyWraith]

[The following entry had been scribbled quite hastily, as if the writer were agitated, or in a hurry.]

Entry 5:

Poor, pathetic little Roslyn.  That's what they think, isn't it?  Weak for the work that I do.  Soft for my desire to "help" others.  Well they will never know the truth, will they?  They will never see through the facade.  And that's the way that it's meant to do.  What I do is for myself.  No one will ever understand.

He will burn in Hell for the things he did.

[An old, dried flap of skin that had been impeccably stitched back together was tucked between two pages of the book.  All of the moisture had evaporated from the flesh, leaving it dry and hard, though still slightly malleable.]

[ShadyWraith]

Entry 6:

I'll admit that some of my own experiments have become a bit grim and strange.  Two days ago I watched Jusuf perform a procedure on a man who'd been injured in a farming accident.  His arm was severed and hanging just barely by a few threads of flesh and muscle tissue.  He was so meticulous as he stitched the tattered flesh back together.  The man will be spending at least a month under his care, if not more.  And I've been charged with the task of making certain the wound does not fester.  There is some question as to the amount of use he will have of the arm, but for now the limb is not lost, and we will do our best to make certain that he can retain it.

Observing this procedure had me thinking about the own tests I could perform.  Not on human subjects, mind you.  I hope to perform a full reattachment on an animal.  It must be something with a complex circulatory system.  Perhaps the guard would let me utilize one of their disposable prisoners...

I have not been able to get my hands on him yet.  But I will.  Who would ever suspect?

[ShadyWraith]

Entry 7:

My first patient.. gone.  I can hardly bear to think about it.  She was young, and healthy.  This isn't how it should've happened.  She was served a poor hand from the start.  Only 15 years of age, pregnant with a child she didn't want, and gravely injured at the hands of the man who did it.  I'd been seeing her regularly to study and log her development.  Everything was going perfectly.  Jusuf and I had just finished with another patient when her father brought her to us.  I've never seen so much blood, and the number of stab wounds on her poor body was difficult for me.  We counted thirty all together, and most had been aimed at her belly.. at the fetus. 

We tried to save her.  We did try.  So many vital organs punctured, so many necessary arteries torn and sliced.  We couldn't stop the blood.  We couldn't hardly tell what we were even doing.  After the realization of how grave things were set in, we made her comfortable, and I remained with her until she passed.  I know who did it.  As she took her last, dying breath I whispered to her.  I reassured her that he would pay.  Judging by the amount of flesh beneath her nails she did quite a number on him, and she  had a small dagger with her that had been bloodied. 

I can only hope that he will come to us to be patched back together.  I have told Jusuf that I would like a few patients of my own.  I am ready to develop my own plans of treatment.

[ShadyWraith]

Entry 8:

The game I play is dangerous, and the risks far outweigh any benefit I could ever reap.  I question myself regularly; what drives me?  The thrill, the excitement?  Do I enjoy the danger of it?  Is it the possibility of what I could potentially accomplish?  I know not.  There are many pieces, and I seem to gain more everyday.  Perhaps he's different.  Perhaps he makes things much more dangerous for me.  Perhaps I should pull back while I'm still able...

My skills and knowledge grow daily, yet still I desire for more.  I soak up everything that I can.  I'm becoming more confident in what I know.  My hands are steady and I'm willing to take more risks.  I think Jusuf is pleased with the work that I've completed.  He makes few corrections on the case notes that I turn in, though every suggestion he gives me is taken into consideration. 

The treatment plans which I devise are now my own.  This terrified me initially, but now I think little of it. 

The imbecile returned, just as I knew he would.  His face and arms were clawed, and I noted numerous defensive wounds.  He played it off in the manner of which I assumed he would, and he played me for a complete fool.  I've begun his treatment, and made a point of informing him of the risks of a blood infection should he not return in three days time.  When he does return, and I know that he will, I'll see the deed through.  The pain he will suffer will be more than he could ever imagine in a thousand lifetimes.

[ShadyWraith]

I knew it was horrid idea from the start, but Jusuf was so certain that we'd be able to help the poor man.. I couldn't refuse him my assistance.  Operating on a corpse for purposes -other- than an autopsy; who would've thought?  The man was from Lamordia, brought to Doctor Hakiam and I by a friend who was desperate for his life to be restored with non magical means.  The body was borderline rotting and the man had been dead for quite a time.  I know not the matter of his death, but by the state he was in it looked to have been quite violent and traumatic. 

Jusuf made the initial incision and removed one of the ribs.  The old heart was cut out.  The organ was hardened and useless.  He then asked me to retrieve a new heart from the ice room which I did.  This was not a human heart.  It was large, and seemed to be almost mechanical in nature.  It barely fit into the man's chest, but we made it work.  I stitched him back up once the process was complete.  Of course he remained dead.



Jusuf produced a mechanical box, it was a thing I'd only ever heard of but knew existed.  The use of these contraptions is not widely well received, but some doctor's state they are able to restore life with a few sparks and shocks.  We connected the wires and Jusuf placed them on the man.  After what seemed like an eternity the man began to stir, and stirring turned to violent seizing before he suddenly sprung form the table.  He was, however, not right..



The body remained in it's tattered, almost rotting state.  The man was unable to form words and his mind was clearly confused.  He was extremely agitated and struck at me, breaking my nose.  We were unable to control him at all and before we could even respond he had ran down the stairs and out the door.  Jusuf was beside himself, and we both knew that if word got out our names would be ruined for eternity.



I stripped my labcoat off and exited the home, leaving Jusuf and our infuriated customer at the house.  I heard strange noises from the sewer, so I followed them under a cloak of invisibility.  The creature was there, confused and turned around.  With one of our contraptions still attached to him and wires sparking, he was easy to slay.  I disconnected a few wires with the swing of my blade and he breathed no more. 



Despite my best efforts to keep the whole thing "subtle", I had failed.  She had been watching the scene unfold from the shadows of the sewer tunnels, and was too curious for her own good.  I did only what had to be done, and tossed both bodies into the acidic water to rot and decay.

[ShadyWraith]

She was his and he was hers.  They said their vows quietly, not even bothering to exchange rings.  After the briefest of ceremonies they wandered off into the darkness, to a place where they'd both be safe. 

She turned in her uniform to smooth things over with his people, and spun a tale that was easily believable to make it right.  For a woman of such foul intent she was nothing but sincere with him, and he the same towards her. 

Together they'd make mountains move.

[ShadyWraith]

Entry 9:

Things have been quiet lately, but not in a negative way.  Zakhaev knows how displeased I've been recently, and he does whatever he can to remedy it.  I'm content with both of us having a bit of time away from our work so that we can be alone together.  It's refreshing to allow the worries of our lives to subside, even if only briefly. 

We will be seeing my mother soon, and words cannot describe my excitement.  Perhaps he will understand me better once he's able to sit down and talk with her.  There are many things that he doesn't know.  There are many things that I've been unable to talk about. 

I've been having horrible nightmares, flashbacks of that wretched evening at Jusuf's.  The creature that we sculpted haunts my thoughts.  I can see it's eyes when I close my own.  And her... the whisper of that final breath is a sound that I will never be able to rid my mind of. 

He makes me feel good.  The reassurance that I do only as I have to do is something I won't tire of hearing.  I question myself at times, and some of the actions I've gone through with over the past month have me almost frightened.  As I write now he rests beside me, sleeping soundly as he only does when we're together.  Things are good and I'm more than content.  There's nothing that will get in the way of what we've been building.  Should anyone try, they'll be cut down.

[CashMeOutside]

The walls of the dark, dank cell seemed to be closing in on her.  Each time she drifted off her sleep was fitful, and she often woke up in a cold sweat dazed and confused.  She knew it was only a matter of time.  Her body was growing weaker by the day and the hunger was overwhelming.

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Large hands grasped at her arms and her shocked cries were hushed by a calloused palm.  Under a dark cloak of magic she was ushered out of her stone prison, knowing little that she would be soon taken to another dungeon gilded in gold.

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Her knight in shining armor had been nothing more than a charlatan dressed in a suit of rust.  She sat by quietly as they overtook the city, and watched as their plans crashed and burned.  She told herself he'd died of madness, but that likely wasn't the truth.  She wouldn't hear it even if it was the truth.  Without hesitating she'd left the city.  Their fate was their own, and she would take claim of herself.  No more would others decide for her.

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She'd become violently ill shortly after finding out she was with child.  It wasn't meant to last, however.  She recalled the amount of blood which was lost during miscarriages her patients suffered through.  Hers was no different.  Instead of feeling loss or shame she felt relief.  Relief of not having to raise a bastard child alone.

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Her time spent in the mountains was insightful if not dull.  There was a lack of medical care and she saw to the treatment of countless farmers with varying ailments.  The repetition became dull, however, and after a few years had come and gone a desire began to tug at her soul.  She would return to the city if it was the last thing she accomplished.  She trimmed her hair, packed her belongings, adopted a new surname and made the journey down to the place she'd once called home.

Portrait

[CashMeOutside]

Krofburg, One Year Prior

The sound of loud pounding on the wooden door of her tiny, rented room drew her from her fitful slumber.  The winter was a harsh one, and despite the small fireplace which still burned brightly inside the room she remained cold.  The pounding became louder, more desperate, and shouts soon accompanied.  Despite the fact that she was still waking up she practically leapt from the bed, grabbing her robe and pulling it on before answering the door.

"Doctor Lacusta!  Open up!"

"What is it...?  What's happened..?"

"The Millosvicch's stable hand..!  Come, quick!"

She began dressing for a trip through the bitter cold and heavy snow, however a scream of pain and loud ruckus from the main room of the home tore her away from her task.  As quickly as she could she darted out, just in time to see a group of men carrying in the writhing, bloody form of the stable hand.  His skin was clammy and pale, the sort of color she only saw when men and women were struggling to survive from a serious amount of blood loss.  Without another word she motioned them to follow her into the kitchen.  A few odds and ends were swept off of the surface of the large table and the struggling man was laid upon it. 

His pants were swiftly removed with a pair of shears and she critically surveyed the damage.  A large, rusty piece of farm equipment had sliced deep into his leg, so deep that it had worked it's way into bone.  Infection had set in, and it looked as if he'd laid without aid for quite awhile.  The flesh directly around the wound was cracked and blackened from poor circulation.  There was no doubt that the rot would begin to spread rapidly. 

She'd removed limbs countless times before.  It was never the blood or the gore which stuck with her, but rather the screams and cries of pain.  There was rarely enough of any given sedative available to completely ease the discomfort of her patients.  In the end the young man had to be held down by four much larger individuals.  A strap of leather was placed in his mouth so that the clench of his jaw did not crack any teeth.  She sawed and cauterized and stitched a flap of skin over the new stump.  Eventually the man had passed out from the pain.  She washed him and dressed him in clean clothing.

He remained unconscious for days.  Each day she cleaned the wound, massaged oil extracted from the poppy plant into his gums and make sure that he was washed appropriately.  She often woke to the sound of his pain filled groaning.  Nearly a week later he was alert enough to realize the impact of his accident.  He didn't eat, he didn't speak, and he didn't care for himself.  She couldn't wrap her head around what was happening.  She'd saved him, prolonged his life, and given him a second chance.  Three days later he was found hanging from the rafters in the very same stable he'd been injured in.

[CashMeOutside]

How terrible it is to love something which death can touch. . .

Case Note: 359

I arrived at the Larovich residence at approximately thirty minutes past the eighteenth hour.  Domn Larovich was suffering as much as I assumed he'd be.  I could tell by the stench, his color, and the way he postured his body upon the cot that he did not have too much longer.  I made this known to his wife.  The news was taken appropriately as this was something I'd been preparing her for over the course of the week. 

Despite his condition domn Larovich complained of thirst, and a concoction of chamomile, clove oil, and oil extracted from the poppy plant was utilized to sate his thirst and ease his discomfort.  I assured domna Larovich that I would remain throughout the night, though I knew that, judging by his condition, domn Larovich had but mere hours until his passing.  I assured her that I would keep him as comfortable as possible.

Just after midnight domn Larovich fell into a fitful sleep.  His skin was cool and clammy, and had taken on an ashen pallor which indicated to me that his blood was likely no longer circulating in a manner that would sustain him much longer.  In his fitful rest he moaned, and the tension of his body worsened, contorting him into an uncomfortable and likely painful position.  At this time I spoke with domna Larovich about administering the sedative we'd spoken of earlier in the week.  She was in agreement that this was an appropriate course of action.

Despite his state of unconsciousness the sedative was administered orally as it is only produced in a suspension meant to be ingested.  Very small amounts were gently kneaded into the fleshiest part of the gums to promote swifter absorption.  Less than a teaspoon full was needed to ease the discomfort of domn Larovich.  He was then able to rest with ease.  It was noted that his posture relaxed. 

By the second hour his breathing had significantly diminished.  Domna Larovich was offered time alone with her husband which she gratefully accepted.  Once she'd said her goodbyes she called me back into the room.  Domn Larovich breathed perhaps twice in the period of a minute.  At approximately fifteen minutes past the third hour his breathing ceased.  I was unable to palpate a pulse, and thus pronounced him deceased to domna Larovich. 

I instructed domna Larovich to wait in the kitchen for the time being as, through the natural process of death, domn Larovich had emptied himself of both bladder and bowels.  I thoroughly cleaned the body and changed the sheets on the cot.  A very light amount of scented oil was applied to mask the stench of death.  I took it upon myself to notify the brother of domn Larovich so that domna Larovich was able to remain with her husband.  Domn Larovich was thirty years of age at the time of his death.

[CashMeOutside]

Krofburg, Year 771

She'd promised herself she would remain in Krofburg for at least two years time before making her way back down the mountain.  When her mother passed away the letters ceased.  For a time she knew little about what took place in Vallaki or The Village of Barovia.  This hardly bothered her, however, and she threw herself into her work.  A "surprise" visit from her uncle brought concerning news.  Her family had shrunk in size quite significantly over the past year and a half, this much she'd been aware of.  She learned of the strange ailment plaguing her smallest cousin.  The little girl had always been shy, but recently she'd taken to not speaking for long periods of time.  She became ill often, and threw abrupt tantrums that were out of character.

Nothing that she was told shocked her, and she chalked it up to the child perhaps being spoiled, or maybe even picked on by other children around the village.  The visit with her uncle ended soon enough, however he made sure to keep in touch from that point on.  Part of her was glad to hear from a family member, but another part of her feared being discovered.  The thought of being forced back to Vallaki before she was ready made her feel ill. 

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Roselyn,

The condition of Anca continues to worsen.  We are unable to have her examined by the Village doctor
due to the fees which he charges.  The midwife checked her, but had no explanation for her worsening
symptoms.  We worry for our daughter, and your aunt has begged me to ask you to come for a visit so
that you can see to her yourself.  Please give this some thought.  Each day Anca looks worse.  Our child
is a shell of her former self.  We fear what may happen if she continues to refuse sleep and food the
way that she has been.

 

She finally made the venture to The Village of Barovia.  There way no way she could deny her family when they found it necessary to plead with her.  It took little time for her to assess the child and come to an appropriate conclusion as to what was causing her behavior and current health ailments.  She could not be cured with rest nor medicine; no, what was required for her to become better was much more drastic.  Worry for any potential legal ramifications caused her to concoct an elaborate story.  The young girl was provided with a poultice to be used in the evening before bed, applied to her forehead for half an hour.  This, along with a weak herbal tea would most certainly cure her.

"There is no doubt in my mind that this combination of treatment methods is just what she needs.  A week or two, I tell you.  She'll be feeling as good as new!"

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Moonlit rays shone through the dense, dead tree branches surrounding the rundown farmhouse belonging to the Morescu family.  Their reputation was nothing less than foul.  Three years prior the woman of the house, Lillianna, had died in a tragic "farm accident".  The eldest daughter was rumored to be a prostitute, and the youngest ran wild during the day, often stealing and vandalizing.  Lucien was a drunkard, and it was a wonder he was able to keep food on the table and clothes on the backs of his two daughters.  The unsettling man boasted a huge pot belly, yellow teeth, and a raspy voice which was the product of years spent puffing on a pipe.

From the shadow of the large, worn old shed she stood and waited.  Nothing but the sound of wind rustling dried leaves could be heard.  The occasional wolf howled in the distance, the eerie noise harmonizing perfectly with the rare hooting of an owl.  One by one the candles within the home went out.  When she no longer saw shadows moving about within she approached.  She'd spent much of the day surveying the property for weaknesses, and there were many.  An unbolted cellar door lead up to a small storage room connected to the shoddy kitchen in the home.  Feathery light steps kept her undetected as she quickly familiarized herself with the layout.

She remained pressed against a dark corner of the kitchen until she could hear the sound of snoring from the largest bedroom.  Once the overly loud breathing became even she opened the door as quietly as she could and made sure to close it in the same manner once she was inside.  For awhile she stood beside the bed, staring down at the dumpy slob of a man.  He smelled horrid, as if he hadn't bathed in months.  His hands were filthy and his fingers were fat with dirt embedded beneath the nails.  She was utterly disgusted. 

Fingers curled around the poison laced dagger she'd brought with her.  The point of the blade dug into the man's filthy, fat neck just as one of her leather clad hands shot over his mouth.  He woke abruptly, and for a moment she thought he'd struggle.  Perhaps he wasn't as stupid as he looked, for he seemed to realize the severity of his current predicament and kept wide eyed and still.

"If you scream or struggle I'll plunge this knife into your neck so fast you won't even have time to fathom what sort of Hell you'll be sent to.  Do you understand me?"

He was quick to shake his head, and remained silent even after she'd withdrawn her palm from his mouth.  The sharpened dagger remained pressed to his neck, the pointed tip drawing warm blood which trickled down to stain the filthy sheets upon the bed.

"I heard quite the filthy rumor about you, domn.  You shouldn't waste your breath in denying such things, as I've already taken the liberty of verifying such disgusting, scandalous whispers myself.  What you can do, however, is give me a single solid reason as to why I shouldn't gut you like a dead pig."

"Domna, I - . . . I can. . I can explain myself...!"

Her lips pursed for a time.  She'd been at least a little bit willing to hear him out, that was until he'd opened his smelly mouth.  With as little as a second thought the dagger was plunged into his neck, severing his spinal cord in a single, swift motion that left a mixture of blood and cerebrospinal fluid leaking upon the bed.  Watching the life leave his body was exhilarating.  As she slid the length of the dagger from the deep wound a few spurts of blood rhythmically squirted out.  He seized up and spasmed for a few moments before a long sigh signified the last breath leaving his lungs. 

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The journey back up the mountain had been swift, and she was soon enough slipping back into her normal routine.  It wasn't long before word was sent informing her that the young child she'd tended to just a few weeks later had drastically improved.  "The poultice and the tea have done wonders!  She's able to sleep all night and no longer cries out from the nightmares.  Day by day her appetite improves, and she's speaking more.  We can't thank you enough.  As far as rumors go, that farmer domn Lucien was killed in his bed a few weeks ago.  A few of the villagers have come forward to say that he had relations with girls much too young for him.  A man with two daughters, can you believe such a thing?"  Without reading another word she crumpled the letter up and tossed it into the fireplace to watch the dancing flames eat it up.

Can you believe such a thing?

[CashMeOutside]

Howling wind snuck in through the tiny cracks of the worn down home's walls and the flames of the small fire crackled in response.  The undersized shack was not hers, and it had likely not been owned by anyone for quite some time.  Despite this she found herself drawn to it, and always left it stocked with candles and blankets and rations in case the need to use it should arise.  The night had been colder than she expected, and she had to layer the bed with numerous pelts in order to stay warm.  From time to time she could hear the faint, subtle sound of fighting taking place in a nearby alley, and it was likely that neuri had gotten the best of some foolish adventurer who'd found the need to wander after dark.  Flickering candles caused shadows to dance across the walls which only added to the haunted ambience of the run down tenement.

Beside her lay a body much bigger than her own; a bare form which she was not accustom to seeing out of dark leather armor.  His breathing was soft and even, though his rest seemed to be at least a little fitful.  Her fingers grazed over a few of the scars which decorated his body, signs of training and battles lost and won that he would carry until the day he died.  Beside the bed was an arsenal of their sharpest blades.  Daggers and rapiers and shortswords created a medley of arms which would be used upon anyone foolish enough to enter their currently claimed sanctuary.  He shifted in his sleep beside her, and she pulled the blankets a bit further over his body as he settled down into his deep slumber once more.

The sounds of scuffling in the streets had died down once more, and the harmony of wind and crackling wood soon lulled her to sleep.  In the morning she woke to an empty bed, unlit candles and smoldering ashes.  It was just as she expected and what she was comfortable with, at least for the time being.  He would come for her again in the next few days, unceremoniously entering her life in the same manner of which he took leave each morning after nights spent together.  It was best that way, and they both knew it.