Chapter 1: Sorry awakening

Characters present: Silvester.
Immediate NPCs; Nurse, Patient 1, Patient 2.
Time: 6:15PM. Jan 15th 2019.
Location: Hosptial Room; Public.
Meta: Student Hospital (49. Visitors guide), 300 block.


“Wanna see a magic trick, funny man?”.


It was meant to entertain, they told you to ditch the shit at Fells Heights, the dingy bar seemed alluring, just a quick drink? Then you saw her, bone thin, Snow White in a torn wedding dress. “Wanna see some magic?” You asked. 


Entertainment lit up on her bored face, a slew of practical tricks to turn her boredom into awe and that man who kept watching, he lost his boredom too. Boredom turned to jealousy, how you were meant to know it was a gang members squeeze? 


He pulls you outside, you tumble and try to get in a few hard knocks before he comepeltely pulls you out onto the alleyway behind the bar. Some land but not enough.


The bastard pulls out a blade as long as your dexterous hands.
“Wanna see a magic trick?”.


It plunges inward ice-hot, somewhere she’s shrieking.


In and out, each stab less hurtful, but it’s going black.


You open your eyes again, it’s getting colder inside. 


Lights in the alleyway, a man bruised and humiliated being dragged away by the Newcastle’s finest. 


It smells like piss and rotting food. 


It is getting darker.


The paramedics arrive, valkyries picking up the worthy dead into the meat wagon.
Sirens blaze, radio chatter splutters.


It smells like piss.


“Wanna see a magic trick?”.


You black out.


An eternity later you wake in a bed, sore as hell.
Machines beep, faceless medics attend to your wounds.


You black out again.

Swimming in an endless sea of light.

It is warm here, it is safe.

Another eternity and you wake up.


No machines screaming, just the constant beep of the heart monitor.


You open your eyes, it appears To be nighttime.


You are laying in a hospital bed in a stinking gown, you smell yourself and hear the repeated beeping of a monitor. A catheda hangs from your right fist. Saline drips. 


You look down to your chest, ECG machines are attached by wires monitor your heart rate.

A buzzer for morphine awaits you out almost out of reach.
Meta: also a call for the nurse

Your body wracks with the pain of hunger and the neatly stitched holes in your chest.


The Bastards knife didn’t make it past the rib, but the intention is there.


Stomach and wound smarts like a Bastard.


What do you? 

[Silvester: 5/7 health, condition crippled (temp)

Buzz for the nurse, flirt if female, joke if male, ask for morphine and for information as to what's going on.

Nurse Petrie enters and checks your chart,

She looks up from the board.

“Ah good so you’re awake now?”

She points to the buzzer and explains how to use the morphine.

“3 presses maximum per hour, it’ll take the edge off the pain”

She checks you over thoroughly and professionally, ignoring your attempts to flirt.

“I’ll notify the doctor you are awake, in the mean time I’ll get you a chair”.

The doctor introduces himself, explains the nature of your condition and how you will be bound to the hospital until you can fully heal.

The patient in the next bed coughs, sits up mumbling about something under... her breath.

Beside the gown, absence of make up and the tubes in her nose and wires attached, she is one of the most beautiful women you have seen.

As you turn away from her, you get sights of your surroundings.

A beige hospital room with all the hospital accroutments filled with 4 hospital beds.

The doctor looks up nervously from the board and stares at the woman as she tussles in her sleep.

His eyes catch yours for the moment as the doctor regains his composure and gives a slight shrug and smiles at you again.

“As you can see from the extent of your wounds, you may be here sometime, naturally, in the mean time I have arranged for a wheel chair for your mobility around the hospital, this is the pre surgery intensive care ward, level 3. We have your belongings here in the ward. We are currently wondering if you have any next of kin we should notify in Newcastle?”.

The woman in the bed beside you bolts up in bed.

You see the blood in the doctors face drain as the patient screams blindly into the room.

Nurse Petrie rushes into the room with your wheelchair, wheels, it your bed as the doctor moves swiftly to your neighbour.
She joins him and pulls out a sedative and without the doctors orders administers the needle to her buttock.

The woman falls silently backwards onto the bed and pillow helped down with the doctor and nurse.

She sobs loudly.

“Why me?”.

What do you do?

Ask about how long till I recover, where's the canteen and how do I get my belongings back, ignoring the question about relatives and the patient/doctor unnatural interaction. Also take a sip of morphine while talking. Oh, and I also ask when's my surgery if this is a pre-surgery ward.


[also, there can't be 4 beds with 3 empty since both me and the shouting lady occupy one each?]]

[Silvester is at 7/7 health. Via morphine (temp) Condition: crippled, still]

{Roll Stamina and Resolve, minus 2 for drug potency, need one success to stay awake p/h)
A patient is escorted to one of the beds, his face wrapped in a bandage, pushing a long his drip.

Nurse Petrie coughs and shakes her head “sorry, the doctor meant post surgery, you are expected to be here for a week while you heal”.

She turns to the woman and grimaces, “I apologise for the other patient, miss fogley has been having rather Er terrible dreams of late”.

She motions to the wheelchair, “ I can guide you to the canteen if you like? I’m due for a break anyway, we could pick up a few of your belongings if you prefer, also an officer came by to see If you’d be ready to make a statement about the attack at some point, he left a calling card, as for the belongings, there’s only really your pants, wallet, phones, shoes and socks - your shirt was torn off in the ER, but I don’t think you’ll remember that at all”.

[Rolled 1, 0 and 8, despite how weird the role seemed]

'Lead the way,' I say as I take a seat. Cracking a few jokes and obliviously flirting with her, I continue down my plan: eat, gauge the canteen audience, get clothes, get back to bed and see if the wound have any ill effects on my skills, outside of the obvious ones.  Planning for only an hour or so ahead, I rationalise, will allow for flexibility, should anything of note arise. Will the nurse get friendlier? Have I lost my grandpa's very dear golden coin worn by a string around the neck? Who knows, only time will tell. Hope the cops won't bother me too much over this, never felt easy with them.