Winking out of existence again, the pair of Lorekeepers reappeared in the grove of trees! Finding the objects of her search, War Scribe dropped Zakiyah's limp form on the ground and screamed, "HELP!!! I NEED HELP!!! I NEED A HEALER HERE!!! HELP!!!"War Scribe's cry immediately brought the Shadow Riders running over to her and Zakiyah. Doc, The Seargent, and a few of the other Drow Warriors that were still at the ledger line were the first to arrive on the scene just in time to find War Scribe disappearing and a rather perturbed Human-looking woman sitting on the grass in front of them.
"What the hell is going on here?" asked the Sergeant in the Drow tongue.
"Hey! I thought I heard War Scribe's voice!" chimed in Dickory, scratching his head. "At least, it sounded like her! Where is she, anyway?"
"I don't know where she is but I do know this," said Hickory with a smile, "It seems to me like we've got another Human dumped on our doorstep--and a cute one too!"
"Hey! Do you think she'd be up for a little Swordfighting for Clothing?" inquired Sticks with a devilish grin, pointing at Zakiyah.
"Or how about a little Cannard for Clothing?" inquired another Drow in the group, "That's always my favorite!"
"Not on your life, you twits!" spoke up Doc for the first time, "Someone called for a healer and it sounded like War Scribe! But since she's gone, I guess this woman is the one who's in need of healing! So, until I give her a clean bill of health, there's going to be no game playing with this Human, got that you knuckleheads!?!"
A chorus of disappointing "Awww's" came up as Doc approached Zakiyah with a small backpack in hand. The Shadow Riders knew better than to disobey Doc's orders because they knew that while he would never refuse to patch them up; he could always make their recovery from an injury or wound more painful than it had to be. It was one of the Drow Chiurgeon's classic ways of keeping the men in line.
"I mean it!" yelled Doc demonstratively, "Nobody goes near this woman until I've finished examining her! Sarge, get the Captain, if War Scribe's scream for help didn't wake him--then he's either deaf, drunk, or dead!"
Opening up his backpack, the Drow Chiurgeon pulled out a few examining instruments and asked Zakiyah in the Common tongue, "Who are you? Are you alright? I am a Chiurgeon and I heard that you needed some medical help. Tell me, where does it hurt?"
