"All right, if you MUST know, I've been stabbed in the heart twice today, and I've not yet fully recovered. But Validor takes care of his own," Zakiyah said, making a gesture to the mark on her forehead, "and I need no other assistance." She would have pointed to the spot, but she didn't like the idea of showing off her ripped blouse in front of all these leering men. "Uh-huh, yeah, right!" said Doc disbelieving. Yelling at the top of his lungs, the Chiurgeon cried, "STRETCHER!" Two of the Drow immediately ran off.
Before Zak could give him a 'I-don't-your-help' look, Doc said, "Lady, I don't care who you are! You're not going anywhere--at least until I can give you a good looking over! You can scream, you can moan, you can gripe all you want, but if you show up in my camp injured--and you're not trying to kill anyone--then it's my job to look after you! No if's, and's or but's about it! Now lay back, rest easy, and shut up! Believe it or not, you're in good hands!"
The two Drow that ran off returned with a stretcher and laid it down next to Zakiyah.
As the rest of the Dark Elves pressed in around them, Doc yelled, "Alright, you animals, give the lady some room to breathe for Lolth's sake! What's the matter with you guys anyway? You act like you ain't never seen a redhead before! Give us some room or the next person that pushes me gets their next wounds cauterized--with a branding iron!"
Immediately the crowd of Drow began to push back, and the Dark Elven Chiurgeon smiled approvingly, "Now that's better! Lady Zakiyah, get on the stretcher! My men will take you to my tent where I'll examine you! For a woman that's gotten stabbed through the heart twice, you might have shards or pieces of metal inside of you! But I can only know for sure, once I've given you a full examination--now but me no buts and get on the stretcher!"
