[Pyke] Ring around the Rosie

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Common sign"

extra line here
4th of Ymiden, 719

There was nothing else to do but go through the door. Hart had the echo box, he had the scroll, and with a final goodbye he followed Frask from the mausoleum, through the graveyard, and out of Zuudaria.

To Hart, it seemed as if he had stepped out of the same door he had come in through, though that couldn't be right. For the trill it took to travel through the doorway his hand gripped Frask's. And then they were past the threshold and into Rynmere, and Hart let go.

But it's not Rynmere, he thought as soon as he'd stepped out onto the street. He had been expecting Andaris. This was somewhere else.

He and Frask were in an alleyway. They appeared to have exited from a side door to a warehouse. Across from the warehouse was another building, almost exactly the same in shape and height. Zuudaria closed behind them and Hart took a cautious breath. He could smell sawdust and smoke and trees and the sea.

They were in the Settlements.

Each of the Settlements had its own distinct personality-- the way it laid out its cities, the materials it used to build, the character of its people. They had stepped through Zuudaria into what Hart recognized as Pyke, the small island duchy off to the west of Welles.

Pyke had, to Hart's knowledge, only one major city. That city passed through traffic from Rynmere to the colonies and back again. It received most of the ship traffic from the kingdom, with ships coming in from all of Rynmere's eastern coastline and beyond, and dealt in both imports and exports, passing through wares from Welles and the whole of the Eastern Settlement.

Most of Pyke was made up of great estates, which the rich of Rynmere used to vacation. The rest of the islanders, the people who populated the Settlement year-round, farmed the center of the island or gathered as seaworkers in its lone city. That city was where Hart and Frask had stepped through.

With a glance at Frask, Hart walked towards the end of the alleyway, to where it met the street. There was only one direction to go; the other end of the alley led to a fence. At the street's edge he leaned against the corner of a building and crossed his arms.

To Hart, the city seemed as usual.

There was no egregious sign of the plague, no smell of death; only that of smoke. The people who walked the streets were unfriendly-looking, but unfriendliness wasn't unusal in Pyke. Hart hardly hesitated before he removed the cloth mask that he had used to cover his face. There were no cloth masks to be seen to protect from illness, just hard people set on their business, looking brusque and busy. Hart did notice, however, that no one --not a single passerby-- seemed to bump or brush against another.

All of the people on the street were moving with purpose to get to where they were going, and Hart immediately pushed from the building he had leant against and turned towards Frask.

"This is it, right?" he asked him. "This is Pyke, the Eastern Settlement." He paused for a portion of a trill. "Thank you for transporting me here," he said. "I wouldn't have cherished trying to get past the navy."

"You have my thanks, as well, for marking me." He wasn't sure what the mark did, the one Faith had asked Frask to put on him. And Hart couldn't see any mark. But he thought it must be there.

"I'm assuming we're to part ways," he said, a statement more than a question. He doubted Frask had the time or inclination to look after him. That suited Hart fine; he understood he would only slow the man down.

It was Hart's impression that the Champion Zuuda would not have much to say. If he didn't, Hart would nod farewell.

Then he would step from the alley and stride off down the street, heading towards the nearest docks, his bag heavy on his shoulder and his expression closed.

OOC: Rolled a d8 to see where Hart would end up in the kingdom (Rynmere + the Eastern Settlement). It was between Andaris, Venora, Burhan, Krome, Pyke, Welles, Oakleigh, and Berrick. The d8 ended up on Pyke.

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Common sign"

extra line here
Hart reached the docks quickly. The city was very-- efficient. The observations he had made leaning against the warehouse proved true as he went further into Pyke. There were crowds and people moving around-- but the people never touched; no one lingered on the streets; everyone was busy; and conversations were quick and to-the-point.

There was something about the perfect efficiency of it that seemed-- off, to Hart. Pyke had always been like this, he thought; it had always been efficient. But never to this extent.

He could only guess that it had to do with the plague.

The docks were located in the northern half of the city. They served as the city hub. Pyke was a port town, and its docks were extensive; it had always seemed to Hart that half the city was the docks.

Hart had been to Pyke as often as he had been to any port in Northern Idalos, which meant that he had a passing knowledge of the city's layout. When he reached the docks he went straight to the nearest inn, but to his surprise it wasn't open.

He went to the next inn and the next, but they were all closed.

After a short period of time spent investigating, Hart decided that half or more of the city's businesses were closed. All the bars were boarded over. All the inns. Many of the most public buildings were shuttered, or empty.

Hart frowned.

A large warehouse seemed to be the center of most of the city's foot traffic. There was a short line at the door and, still frowning, Hart stepped into line.

The line moved quickly, and Hart walked inside the warehouse and glanced around.

He could tell from first sight that the warehouse had once been a large, singular room, though it had been converted into many, many smaller areas by simple frameworks of hammered wood and hanging linen. The line before him moved quickly onwards, and Hart followed it to a woman. She had a scowling look about her face, and a simple stitched armband around her upper arm. On it, Hart recognized the insignia of the Oakleigh Thorns.

This was a medical check point, he realized.

"Name," the woman said, and Hart said without hesitation, "Tristan Venora."

"Papers," the woman said, and Hart had very little time to try and figure out what she meant. He had never carried papers when he had acted as Tristan. No one had ever asked him for identification. He had always been taken at face value.

"I'm afraid I don't have them," he finally said.

"You came from Rynmere," the woman said. She didn't ask. She scowled at him. "You should have papers on you at all times."

"Oh," Hart said, and the look she gave him was scathing.

Suddenly he understood.

The woman didn't want identification. The papers she requested-- they were about the plague. This was a medical check point. She wanted proof, he thought. Proof of wellness.

"But I didn't come from Rynmere," Hart told her. He thought quickly.

The woman had assumed that he was coming from Rynmere, which meant she had recognized his name. And she was angry about his papers. Hart put one and one together. He must have needed papers to get from Rynmere to Pyke. "This is my first time leaving Pyke since the plague," he said.

"Pyke," the woman repeated bluntly, and Hart nodded.

"I was here on a visit when the plague came," Hart said. "I thought I should stay. I figured less people, less illness." Pyke was the least populated of the Settlements. "I didn't feel much like getting sick. And my daughter, Ayla. I didn't want her to be sick, either. So we kept ourselves tucked away."

"Ayla is to stay here in Pyke while I'm off to do business," Hart added. "So I'm afraid I don't have any papers. But if I could go through the process of attaining some, that would be nice."

The woman scowled some more and looked as if she was thinking. But the line was meant to move quickly, and this was a medical check point-- perhaps the only medical check point in Pyke. Hart had sailed most of his life. Ships entered and left the docks on strict timetables, and because the inns were closed, people had to be efficient. There was no time for her to question him further. That wasn't what this check point was for.

The partial line of people that had gathered behind Hart had begun to mutter.

"Go to the left for a full examination," the woman told him. She wasn't scowling at him any longer; she was scowling at the next person in line. She indicated with an impatient movement for Hart to move on and for them to step forward. "There should be a doctor to meet you when you arrive."

"Thank you," Hart said, and followed her directions.

Hart had made it a handful of steps into the warehouse proper when a young woman walked up to him. "Tristan Venora?" she asked. Hart saw that there were people with Thorn armbands standing in rank not far off from the woman with the line. Each person who checked in with the woman received a personal escort, it seemed.

Hart smiled at his. "Yes," he said.

"This way." The young woman walked ahead of him and Hart followed.

They made their way between the arrangements of walkways and hanging rooms of linen. The linen rooms were examination rooms, Hart now understood. The linens didn't give a lot of privacy, but they were low cost and would be easy to clean. The young woman took Hart to an examination room in the far back of the warehouse. She stopped beside it and nodded her head.

Hart noticed a faint smell of sickness, here at the far back, which was nearly disguised by the strong smell of smoke. He pretended not to have noticed. "Thank you," he said.

The young woman nodded again and walked back towards the line.

Hart stepped into the examination room.

The examination room, he saw, was utilitarian. There was a desk with papers stacked, a chair for the desk, and a table. The table was long enough for a person to lie upon, and had a simple cloth laid over it. The desk, chair, and table were all made of waterproofed wood, and like the linen walls, they would be easy to clean. To the side of the table was a pair of metal buckets, which had been scrubbed until they shone. There was the smell of soap and sickness, and Hart took a step in and tried to resist taking a step right back out.

Instead he nodded at the man who was sitting at the desk, and who could only be the doctor. The man wasn't wearing a Thorn armband. Neither was he wearing the offical cloak and hood of the Order of Adunih, but Hart had the impression that he had to do with the Order. He looked up at Hart and said, "Name?"

"Tristan Venora."

The man's eyebrows twitched, but he didn't comment on the name except to repeat it. "Tristan Venora," he said. "Let's start the exam."

[Hart]

"Speaking in Rakahi"
"Speaking in Common"
"Speaking in Common sign"

extra line here
The exam was quick and rigorous. Hart was told to take a seat on the table. The doctor started by checking his eyes and mouth. He inspected Hart's face thoroughly, and used a small lens to look at his skin, though he was careful not to touch. Instead, he scribbled observations on the papers from his desk.

After the doctor had looked at his skin, eyes, and mouth, he gave Hart a thick paste to eat, which tasted bad and stuck in the throat. Then Hart was made to drink a series of liquids, including water, a bitter tea, and a shot of hard liquour. The doctor made him assume a position like a push up on the floor, and hold it for a number of bits.

The position made his stomach burn, and the doctor nodded and had him sit on the examination table again. "I was meant to throw up, wasn't I?" Hart said, and the doctor smiled tightly.

"You most definitely would have, if you had the plague. Can you read?"

Hart nodded, and the examination continued.

The doctor held up a piece of paper, and Hart read a number of sentences from it. The paper was held up at certain distances, getting further and further away, until Hart could no longer read what it said. "Reading's good," the doctor grunted, and tossed the paper back onto his desk. He continued to scribble his observations. Hart noticed that he himself never touched the paper, and the doctor never touched him.

Finally he had Hart lie down on the examination table.

Hart realized a few bits later that he felt drowsy. Then it was more than drowsy, and it was sudden, and he tried to wobble up to sit. "It's the tea," the doctor said. "It's a sedative."

Hart was unsteady when he sat up, and to his surprise the doctor steadied him.

"I take it I don't have the plague," Hart said.

"No," the doctor grunted.

"I assume you haven't traveled throughout the duration of the plague," the doctor said. "These will serve as your papers, then." He handed Hart the papers. "You must keep them on your person at all times, under punishment of law. Understood?"

"Understood," Hart said.

"As the plague has very nearly been eliminated from the Eastern Settlement, you'll be able to travel from Pyke to Welles as long as you have your papers. However, should you develop symptoms--" the doctor gave Hart a paper with the symptoms of the plague, "--you are to report to the nearest medical station. Likewise, if you come into contact with a person or persons whom you suspect to have the plague, you are to report both yourself and them to the nearest medical station. Understood?"

"Understood," Hart repeated. He looked at the papers the doctor had given him. They were a printed form, which had been written on and signed off by the doctor, and stamped at the bottom with both the mark of the Order of Adunih and with the mark of the Oakleigh Thorns.

"Should you need to travel between the Settlements," the doctor said, "You will be required to pass an examination at each border, and --depending on how strict each Settlement's regulations are-- at each town or city you travel through. Understood?"

"Understood," Hart said.

The doctor pushed aside some of the hanging linen to allow Hart out of the examination room. Hart stood and wobbled, and the doctor steadied him again. "If you go down that walkway," the doctor said, "You'll come to a section of the medical station used for recovery after examination. You may still feel drowsy from the tea."

Hart nodded. "Thank you," he said. Then, walking slowly, he made his way to the recovery section.

The recovery section was arranged, like the rest of the warehouse, into rooms made of linen. Hart located a room that was empty and let himself in. There was a plain straw mattress on the floor with a cloth covering it, along with more metal buckets
--in the case that someone became ill from the tea or paste, he supposed-- and a simple wooden table with a small mirror and wash basin and bar of soap.

Hart wobbled over to the mattress and lay down to rest.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he felt well enough to stand up again. He stood from the mattress, slowly, but he was steady on his feet. He felt some lasting nausea from the paste and ate some rations. They seemed to settle his stomach some.

He took a while and undressed, then redressed himself in Tristan's clothes. He had the set of Tristan's clothing that he had run off with in Saun, and he'd kept it neat and clean. There were some lines in the clothing from being folded, and Hart smoothed them as best he could. He rolled the sleeves of the shirt to the elbow, unbuttoned the first button or so at his throat, and took a look at himself in the mirror.

Using the water and soap he washed his face and hair, and then shaved --Tristan was always clean shaven-- and did what he could with the razer to shorten his hair to the proper length. Hart tended to wear his hair longer than Tristan did.

When he looked back in the mirror Tristan looked out at him, and Hart inspected his reflection. He stood a little straighter, as Tristan might; he tried to put some happiness into his eyes. The happiness wouldn't come, and Hart grimaced.

"Even Tristan Venora has his serious days," he said.

"Had," he said to the Tristan in the mirror.

He wondered if his brother and niece were dead.

Hart took his papers and put them where they could not be lost from his bag, underneath the clothes he had been wearing when he'd arrived at the medical station. He buckled the masterwork rapier to his hip, threw the bag and the second rapier on its belt over his shoulder, and --now looking like Tristan-- he made his way out of the station.

He had business to attend.

a brief explanation of the exam

As per this announcement, the symptoms of the plague are as follows:

Day 1 Symptoms - Vomiting, inability to sleep, diarrhea, blurred vision, high fever

Day 2 Symptoms - Same as day 1 plus sweating blood, hair loss, extreme joint pain

Day 3 Symptoms - Same as day 1 and 2, plus joints completely seizing up, skin peeling off on fabric, splitting and bursting at the lightest touch, anemia, followed by one final vomiting and diarrhea session, which reveals that the entire digestive system has liquidated resulting in death.

So I figured an exam that inspects the eyes, mouth, and skin, as well as tests the subject's constitution (their ability to resist vomiting), their eyesight, and their ability to sleep / become drowsy was warranted. Also, having papers that identify when the subject was last examined seemed like something the medical community / government might arrange.

I understand that due to Faith Augustin's interventions the plague will be cured within the next handful of days, and the cure distributed on the 28th of Ymiden. I also understand that the Order of Adunih reported no new cases of the plague since the fall of Emea on Ymiden 1st. However, as this thread takes place in early Ymiden, and before the 28th of Ymiden, I figured the Order / the Oakleigh Thorns (the latter of whom are the medical authority within the ES) would still be doing examinations.

[Pig Boy]

Hart

Points

10/10 these points may not be used for magic.

Knowledge

Navigation: The layout of the city of Pyke
Politics (Eastern Settlement): The Oakleigh Thorns are the medical authority in the Eastern Settlement
Politics: The use of check points during a state of emergency
Deception: Pretending to be someone you're not
Deception: Using a false name
Deception: Looking the part lends credence to the lie

OTHER KNOWELDGE--
Rynmere: The Rynmere Plague
The Rynmere Plague: Symptoms of the plague

Loot/losses

"Proof of Wellness" papers stamped in Pyke.

Wealth

0

Renown

+5 renown for Tristan Venora returning to public life.

Comments: This was well written, but I feel it is a stretch given Hart's abilities for impersonation that he'd be able to so effectively take on the role of Tristan, however much he looks like him. Please bear in mind your skill levels for future solos. All in all, it was a nice thread that moves things along well enough.