Baezyl spends some quality time with goats, and even gets his hands dirty.

No swearing, lots of Baezyl~


It is midday of the twenty-sixth day of the twelfth month of the twelfth turn of the 12th pass.


Standing Stones, Infirmary, Igen Weyr

OOC Date 16 Jan 2018 11:00



“How does one call a goat?”


Standing Stones

It is perhaps a pity that the Standing Stones lie in quiet isolation, half-forgotten in the Weyr's easternmost corner. Or perhaps it is inevitable: the grandiose beauty of these red rocks is ill-suited to Igen's coarse grit, and maybe only their loneliness allows them to survive unmarred. Whatever the reason, it cannot be denied that the Standing Stones, a lonely jumble of ancient boulders, have a glory about them. The tumbled field of pillars and arches has been shaped by eons of wind and water into strange shapes, twisted and rutted. The going is treacherous: only the Weyr's half-feral herd of caprines navigates the terrain with any ease. To the northwest, the lakeshore glimmers; to the east, rough-carved steps lead towards another ancient pile of rocks - though the Star Stones are less haphazardly placed than their Standing cousins.

It is the twenty-sixth day of Winter and 34 degrees. It is a clear day.

Baezyl isn’t ordinarily a man to be up this early. Which is probably why his dark eyes glare at the pale winter sun over head. BUT he is up, and bundled in the warmest of his fancy clothes – a very dapper scarf wound about his neck for a reason! While the important experts of various crafts do battle in the Underhold over jurisdiction and other mundane matters, this healer journeyman is making his way towards the standing stones with a bucket in each hand.

“How does one call a goat?” He asks of his bronze companion, his tone still full of his usual humor and curiosity. “Chikchikchik.” He attempts the flowing ululations Igenite goat-herders have used for generations, however his Fortian accent clips the syllables in such a way that he doesn’t quite manage the distance piercing high-pitch. “Oh bloody hell!” He mutters in exasperation. “That won’t do at all.”

His second attempt once he has reached a suitably rock-tumbled stretch of ground is more his style. “Come and get it you stupid beasts!” He yells cheerfully, while rattling one of his buckets, the promise of rare treats echoing from the surrounding stones. Eventually the siren song of a meal not scrounged draws forth an eager herd of the less feral caprines. Now Baezyl can really get down to business! (Amenadiel is OUTTIES though.)

Rukbat makes its slow way across the sky and the healer journey examines each of the attracted goats while attempting to protect the contents of both buckets. “I know the ladies like scars, but you really should stay out of that other guys way for a while." Baezyl chatters even as he catalogues one beta Billy goats collection of scrapes and abrasions. “He is much bigger, and much meaner than you.” The chatter continues as he washes his hands and anoints the goat’s wounds. A gimlet glare is sent to the rather fat Billy goat still chewing his treat for good behavior. “Yeah that’s right… fatty…!” Baezyl probably wouldn’t call an actual person that. But these are goats, and don’t seem to care much one way or the other. “… We’re talking about you! Just keep chewing and mind your own business!”

By the time the sun has completed its journey across the sky and is starting to drop beneath the western wall of Igen’s caldera, Baezyl has completed his survey and gifted unto his goats marvellous collars of colour coded significance. “Well ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure. Especially for you two I’m sure.” He points out Fatty and his girlfriend, he saw what they did. “Hopefully I haven’t given you all the plague and I’ll be back tomorrow.” He threatens cheerfully before making his careful way back to civilisation.


From the astringent smell of redwort, to the gleam of counter and cabinet, this place positively defines the concept of antiseptic cleanliness. Despite the yawning exit to the Dragonhealer Courtyard, the floors remain scrupulously swept of sand and particulate matter. Back behind the counter where the healers usually are, are shelves full of bottles and jars, as well as cupboards hiding away more delicate items that shouldn't be exposed to too much sand. Beyond the counter, there is the Desk, where patients are checked in and taken to one of the examination areas by a healer. The windows are usually kept open for the flow of air, but there is both shutters to shut out dust storms, and curtains for other occasions.

Later that evening…

Baezyl has been on shift for a little while now. In between the spates of triage and the dull monotony of rounds his face carries a thoughtful distracted expression. An expression that melts into delight as one of the imported healers he knows is collecting bugs enters. “Ah, Nelom! Just the man I was hoping to see!” The combination of that bright cheery greeting and Baezyl bearing down on the other journeyman has the man on instant guard. “Baezyl.” Comes the wary reply.

“I managed to find some goats to experiment on. “ Baezyl continues blithely. “But I need more of the substance to really get results. I don’t suppose you have a little extra?” Baezyl even goes so far as to flutter his dark lashes appealingly.

“I gave you plenty! “ Nelom protests.

“I found plenty of goats! Baezyl counters enthusiastically. “And I’ll even let you play with them, if you let me play with some of your bugs! Jhothulos really wants to see my results.” He drops the name of his master with a certain dark insinuation.

“This really is the last time Baezyl!” Nelom counters before placing his crate on the healer desk. Just as he is about to hand over a decent sized jar of the bugs and various other things an apprentice runs into the infirmary through the dragonyard door. “SIRS!” The excited child yells. “There is a whole flock of glowing penises floating by the lake!”

Baezyl’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t crack up. At least not until after the suspicious, but entirely too trusting Nelom hands over his precious sample.

In science, certain sacrifices MUST be made. For Science!

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