Day Sixty-Eight

For a war that's supposedly over the casualties don't seem to have slacked off.

I'll admit that most of them aren't my problem, and I'm hardly running a field hospital. Most of the folks that get referred to me are folks who have already been treated and brought within livable health conditions. What I get to deal with are the people who don't need healers, or had bad healers.

Take today for instance. I get a Dwarf hunter in from an Argent outpost down in the Dragonblight. All his wounds have been 'healed' for months now, he got mended within hours of the battle. Why would he need treatment?
Some numbskull left half a troll's rib in his chest and just mended over it. I had to cut the poor lad open and remove the filthy thing and then stitch him back up. It wouldn't even have been hard to just take the damn thing out of him in the first place, but some hasty, under-educated twit couldn't be bothered to do his job properly. I bought him a stout flagon and apologized for the immense pain he's had to endure for the last six months.


I think he stopped listening when he realized I was buying him a drink. You've really got to love the simplistic desires of the Dwarven people.