A Sticky Situation

[Bawg 494]

A glance outside the Provins Estate ~ 1785

The Lieutenant Physician had stood in his dispensary and arrayed his tools before him. A specially made metallic mortar & pestle, numerous paddings of gauze, a simple silver butter knife and a small silver teaspoon had laid neatly on his workspace. He reached for his leather gloves that sat at the corner of his station and gently pulled them over his hands before hearing a knock at the door. “That must be my shipment.” The Marble Hall Butler, Bullfog, had promptly answered the door and had escorted the envoy to the cramped dispensary. The guest was a young corporal carrying a crate in his hands which he cautiously placed down on the table in the center of the room. The heterochromatic corporal produced a crowbar and had pulled the top end of the crate free to display the contents inside. The two soldiers gave each other a brief salute before the other was escorted out with the guidance of the butler.

 

John peered into the crate, reaching inside to withdraw a jar with a yellow, mucus-like substance from within, “Jailor’s Moss”, the man would mutter to himself. He had unscrewed the lid of the jar and placed it upon the counter before grabbing his silver teaspoon scooping out the moss and placing it within the metallic bowl. The Lieutenant would take the metal pestle and began to rigorously ground the mucus-like substance for a few minutes to manipulate its natural form until its texture appeared to be ooze-like that glistened when a light was shined upon it.

 

He had pinched the handle of a butter knife and raised it towards his features for him to examine its cleanliness. After a few moments of gazing back at himself in its brilliant reflection, he would see his loyal companion, Bullfog, standing behind him. The Wonk croaked as he had spoke to John Pruvia, “Master John, my apologies for being nosy. Do you need further assistance?” The Rhenyari had plunged the knife into the mortar to get a swab of ooze before replying to him. “If you could help me by unloading the glass jars and place them into storage; that would be quite helpful! Thank you!” John went about gathering an adequate amount of jailor’s moss before reaching for a nearby gauze pad coating one end with the substance. “Reminds me of the toasted bread in the Helena Marketplace,” he would chuckle.

 

Bullfog would return the chuckle after hearing the comment, “You are making me hungry!” John Pruvia would cup his hand as he held the coated padding, carefully pressing it against the wooden crate. The wonk butler would raise his eyebrows if he had any, “Master John, you have been talking about your ‘medical invention’ for some time, why are you placing it against the box?” A jovial grin cames across John’s features before he answered, “To be honest, I am nervous putting it against my own skin. Today’s experiment is to see how difficult it would be to remove it, if I can remove it at all.” He leaned over the box attempting to remove the adhesive patch by peeling the corner, but he was unable to get a handle on it. John would turn to Bullfog with a sheepish look on his face, “I am happy I didn’t put it on myself first. I may have never gotten it off!”

The office was quiet for a few moments as John was lost in deep thought on how to remove the bandage without having to misuse one of his medical tools or make an entirely new tool for the procedure. His eyes had widened as he came to a conclusion and rose from his chair. The Rhenyari frantically began searching for his surgical scissors in his medical rucksack. Once the scissors were found, he took a bundle of gauze pads and began to tailor them into these rectangular patches with rounded corners leaving a small flap protruding out one of the shorter ends. 

 

“It had proven quite difficult for me to peel the gauze off the crate, perhaps if this flap isn’t coated it may prove to be somewhat easier to remove.” John Pruvia followed his regular procedure by applying the manipulated moss like butter to toast, cautious enough to ensure that he wouldn’t coat the flap with the sticky substance. He gazed at the wooden crate and had stuck the piece of adhesive gauze to a barren side, pressing it firmly against the surface. “Now lets see if I can pull it off.” The flap was pinched between John’s thumb and index finger and he exclaimed in surprise by the resilience of the jailor’s moss, “Gah! Well, we will never have to worry if it will hold!” John placed a hand against the top of the crate to keep it still before successfully removing the sticky patch. In his excitement, he would raise the gauze pad in the air as it was torn from the box, “The box is free from its sticky burden!”

 

The butler would slap his amphibian palms together as a way to applause, “Well done, Master John!” John would graciously bow as if he had just performed a work of art. A worried look would come across Bullfog’s face, “Master John! It is stuck to your hand!” The furrows his brow and thinks to himself, “This can’t possibly be that painful to remove.” He would pinch the flap and would let out a yelp as some hairs were removed along with the adhesive bandage.

[Disheartened 809]

Casimira sat idly in her study, reading over some books in her free time as she thought up options for the invention she was currently working on. A hand sat on her distended belly. She huffed, alone in the quiet room as John and Bullfog played with sticky stuff downstairs together. “Anna!” she called, “How would you like to help momma with something?” she inquired, hearing the eager footsteps of her young daughter pattering down the hall toward her.

[libertyybelle 6187]

After practically bursting into the room, young Anna Henrietta launched toward her mother with excitement in her little grey eyes. “Reporting for duty!” The Provin’s youth exclaimed before pausing. The girl let out a small giggle at the word ‘duty’ before straightening up her posture and getting her very serious face on. “I will help you, momma. Help help!”

[Roguechaotic 264]

Alistair Brashton after setting the box down and leavening John to his work would continue out into the wilderness to procure more herbs off every kind he could find.

[Bawg 494]

The Eastgate Bridge of Helena ~ 1786

It was a dreary afternoon, a couple of days after determining the strength of moss’ hold and if it were possible to remain over an actively bleeding wound. John Pruvia-Provins stood in his dispensary, inspecting his hand that was now barren of hair follicles. He scoffs in displeasure at the unsightly results of his recklessness before taking up a piece of gauze and his silver butter knife once again to experiment the capabilities of this herb.

 

After generously buttering one side of the pad, John had sighed once before cupping his hand to keep the adhesive from falling out of his hand and onto the floor. He firmly pressed the gauze pad into his skin atop his hairy forearm as if he were applying it to a lacerated wound. The Rhenyari would raise an eyebrow as he would stare down at the pad; His face twisted into a grimace that reflected his discomfort as he felt the tiny moist hooks sinking into his flesh.

 

The gauze rested on his arm for a few moments before John pinched the flap and slowly began to peel it free. He would sneer as the moss would tug on every hair it came into contact with and revealed that the skin underneath had reddened from the painful action. John would pause for a moment as half the gauze was nearly off. He would grit his teeth and tear it off in a moment’s notice. The Rhenyari would growl through clenched teeth as he attempted to suppress the pain after ripping the hair-infested adhesive from his arm leaving an inflamed and reddened mark.

 

The faithful butler, Bullfog, knocks on the door of the medicine room before entering and informing the Viscount of recent news. “Master John! A letter from the ISA was sent for you! It is urgent that you get to the Helena Hospital immediately!” John places a hand over his arm concealing his acute injury from the wonk and says in a pained tone, “Ah. Yes. Please get my coat ready. I will depart shortly. Thank you, Bullfog.”

 

After a short trip to the hospital, John would rest his eyes on a wounded soldier,  Viktoriya DeNurem, who had gone missing in action for about a year when her squadron was on a mission. She would let loose guttural screams that would curdle your blood and her body was riddled with cuts, scrapes, and muck from where she was held. A few soldiers held her down as she was forcibly sedated by downing a whole flask of cowslip wine. Once she began to fall unconscious, Pruvia-Provins would quickly get to work, ordering his student Azariah to assist him while he began applying Tippen’s Root to halt the actively bleeding areas to stabilize the woman. The student brought back a drenched wash cloth and began to clean the numerous wounds of the Tippen’s Root and the grime that caked her torso. Pruvia-Provins would scan her body for severe lacerations and would hastily begin to lace them up with a thread and needle. The procedure was nearly done, the medics were going to disinfect the wounds with thyme oil, before applying paddings of gauze and a wrap of bandages.

 

 A stroke of enlightenment had overcome John as he attempted to place a number of paddings against the treated lacerations to the woman. He required the assistance of Azariah and Viktoriya’s husband, Sir Alaric DeNurem, to assist with holding down the pieces of gauze while John wrapped bandages around her body to keep the gauze in place. Pruvia-Provins would finish treating the wounds and the only thing that would come to mind is the what if… “What if I was on the battlefield? What if I was alone? What if there were more injured?” These thoughts fluttered as he thought of his past treatments in triage and surgery. 

 

He could remember his first triage after an assault on a scyfling fortification. There were many injured Haensemen and some ISA soldiers that had rushed into the fray to rid this rot on the world. John could remember all the injured men that were scattered across that tiny hospital, three men took up the only beds, whilst the rest were scattered about the floor with medics kneeling by their sides. Some men were unrecognizable physically and mentally after that grizzly assault. 

 

Pruvia-Provins also recalled the time when he observed his mentor, Tatyana Ruthern, perform eye surgery on a young Sofiya Baruch which required another person to be there to apply Tippen’s Root to halt a massive amount of blood loss while she methodically worked to remove the arrow from that young woman’s eye. In that moment, he was brought back to his roots, a flurry of questions swirling about his mind. He shook himself from his thoughts and continued to work to stabilize his patient.

 

The return home was quiet, the leaves were wet from the drizzling rain. The overcast of clouds covered the familiar blue sky. The night's breeze was cold enough to chill the bones, only the warmth of a coat or furs to keep someone comfortable.. The leaves were turning from their vibrant green to a plethora of reds, oranges, and yellows. Despite the dreary weather, John found solace in the racing thoughts from his studies. His idea was nearing completion now, all that was needed was to put it to real practice. 

[Bawg 494]

The view from the lakefront of the Marble Palace ~ 1789

It was a silent late night in the Marble Palace, there were no crickets chirping, no footsteps stepping, not even a whisper could be heard. A dim light could be seen from the library of the snow white chateau. That is where a lone John Pruvia-Provins diligently wrote the  results of his experiments and the theories that he was able to catch before they fluttered away from existence. At the foot of his desk lay countless sheets of paper with different designs of his invention and how they could be best utilized when on the battlefield. 

 

There were some designs that could cover a large lacerations, but such designs were quickly scrapped due the limited carrying capacity, the size of the adhesives were too large to be part of the kit soldier’s were already equipped with, and the jailor’s moss sticky properties would cause more frustration as it would connect to other parts of the gauze which would delay someone from quickly responding to their injured comrade. Ostro-Clot would be the best solution to a large laceration that needed to be treated immediately he thought, at least for now.

 

Other drafts were more compatible with the current kit of supplies that a soldier carries onto the field. Smaller sketches were useful, but highly ineffective since the military did not have many halflings, dwarves, or small children among their ranks. Pruvia-Provins would tuck this sketch away and look back at it another time as it did not gauge his current objective. John would gaze at his notes for a moment as he believes he found the most suitable draft that could easily be applied to a soldier’s kit and be quickly applied without delay.

 

It was a mid-size piece of adhesive gauze, one that could fit in a man’s palm. This design could cover most stab, pierce, and slash wounds that would be anticipated to come from war. The only concern was if the adhesive would further damage if it was applied over the wound. John Pruvia-Provins stood up from his desk and began to walk down the silent halls of The Marble Palace to the foyer where Bullfog would have prepared his medical kit, readied his coat, and lit a small lantern. The wonk dips his head to the Rhenyari, “Master John. I have prepared all the necessities. Are you ready to visit the farmer?” John glances to his truehearted butler and nods singularly to him, closing his tired eyes as he shuffles towards the door. “Yes, let us go before we wake anyone.”

 

They travel to the city farms in the southwest of Helena where they would meet with a sun-beaten farmer with an emptied crossbow in hand. Bullfog would slip a coin purse of marks into his faded overalls as they entered the barnhouse where the hogs snorted and squealed. One swine had laid upon the mud-caked floor with a bolt between its eyes. John had placed his kit on the ground beside the corpse before withdrawing a scalpel and making an incision the size of a stab wound along the rib cage. The blood was still hot to the touch as it dribbled from the pig’s body. Bullfog kneels down beside John with three tobacco tins, carefully opening them. Encased inside were the prototypes of the Rhenyar’s invention and withdraws an adhesive before pressing it to the freshly made incision. They had waited a few moments staring at the pad to discover that the blood would not bleed through easily. John pinched the small flap and peeled the adhesive free to discover the adhesive did not bring further harm to the wound.

 

Pruvia-Provins would shift over towards the head of the swine and lift its snout with a scalpel in hand before slitting its throat. He moves an open hand to the faithful amphibian. “A couple more tests and we will be done here.” John cups his hand as the wonk hastily produces another adhesive placing it into his hand. He swiftly placed it over the laceration that is gurgling copious amounts of blood.

 

The gauze had slowly begun to wet with a bright crimson color, but it held the blood back for roughly fifteen minutes before it had bled through. John leans in to pinch the adhesive and pull it free from the experimental laceration. “Bullfog!” He would call out as his wonk butler hurriedly would hand him another adhesive bandage, this time the Rhenyari would apply pressure to witness if the results would vary. After holding down the bandage for what seemed like hours, he would pull back and see that the results were similar. The Rhenyari furrowed his brow before as he looked briefly to the wonk who had a silver watch in his hand. “Only seventeen minutes, Master John.” He nodded once before moving to his feet and reaching for a handkerchief from his coat pocket and began to wash his hands of the pig’s blood. Pruvia-Provins mentally notes that if an artery were to be cut it would not be the most efficient way to stop the profuse bleeding without applying tippen’s root beforehand.

 

The trip back to the estate was brief and the Rhenyar and the Wonk wished each other good night before they would separate at the stairwell. John dragged his feet as he shuffled down the hall to his medicine room and began to pen his findings of the night. After reviewing the results of the bandages, he settles for the original design that would save time and be produced easily. He analyzes his work and mumbles to himself as he scans it. For what it is, the blueprint is simple where one would spread the jailor’s moss on one side of the gauze pad. Any other application should be added before placing the adhesive over it.

 

Pruvia-Provins’ eyes began to feel heavy as he peered out the window to view in the dawn of a new day. The overcast kept the sun's bright rays from shining through, but illuminated the clouds with an indigo blue. The lamp posts remained vigilant and unmoving in the bitter cold of autumn. He slowly placed his arms in front of him where his head could lay while he rested his weary eyes.