KoriZaFerret

I think-- I think I was a doctor at one point in time. The intricate workings of a living thing is quite fascinating, but not as much as some of the reactions they hold when disease and injury test their limits. How much blood can one lose before functions start to fail? Is there a proper way to replace a body part so the body still functions as normal? These are just two of the most recent questions that flood through my mind. Especially after waking up with what feels like the world's largest hangover meets bar brawl.

My mouth feels like cotton and the rather tender lump on my temple is more than enough evidence to piece what MIGHT have happened. All other information seems to be easily accessed-- My name is Viveka Amsel. I'm, possibly 29 or 30 years old by the feel of some joints, and I have a rather nice set of clothes that consists of a shirt, a pair of trousers that tuck into knee-high boots, some... straps that hold the trousers up via my shoulders and a vest. To be honest it feels as if I raided a man's closet, found the closest thing that fits, and continued on with my life but it is not uncomfortable. The numerous pockets even seem to come in handy. Now where was I? Oh yes! Other than personal information, much else in my past seems to have vanished into the night. Or-- At least fogged the time between my teen years and last night. 

I recall escaping a war with my mother in my youth. Though I paid little attention as to what war, I do recall hearing Mother talk of power struggles of someone named Otto. Peh, Royalty. When are they NOT fighting? Always.... What books there were at the orphanage she left me at were less than stimulating, but it was better than nothing. Then there was a fire. It was never found out if the fire was caused by a kitchen accident or another child's playful meddling. Not that anyone truly cared to look, anyways, after the small building was condemned. From there I can remember having to travel. One adult took pity on me, though I can barely remember his face. He was nice enough when he discovered my skills lay not with domestic or swords, but wits and a willingness to learn.  It was his idea that I disguise myself as a boy after that. Many left us alone because of that, ignoring two men, as we traveled the recovering edges of Hanseti-Ruska. Yes. Now that I think about it... It was that man who piqued my interest in medicine in the first place. A traveling doctor, possibly? Or one who never got his license. Either way, we made our dinner (and sometimes money) with his practice and my assistance. It only lasted to my early 20's, but by then I think I knew what I was doing. I recall it being a lot easier to travel after someone's death, but I cannot--for the life of me--remember if it was ruled as an accidental death... or a suicide. And I say easier, not safer. There was coin to be made when rebellions were about. People needed doctors. People paid for doctors. Like the folk just the other night...

That night... Wait, what was I doing that night? I recall-- screaming- No! Shouting. Someone was shouting and I-... Ugh, my head... I need a drink.

(Url image did not wish to work. Here's my image of her)
https://www.deviantart.com/korishikaku/art/Run-Amsel-842128377