Leech perked up at Tarian's remarks, but didn't say anything. He gave a curt nod as she finished, and then headed over to Arc, trying to get a look at his notes. "Prosthetics, aye? Are you also a medic?" After catching some glances of the sketches for the railway, his eye widen: "Ooh, an engineer. Well, if you want to, I could certainly use yer help with something..."

Brandt and Tarian, do you want to look around the rest of the camp, or attempt to help Othmar and Gyselle with treating the sick?

Brandt will stand directly outside of the tent, since he isn't going to provide aid to Garronians.

To Thia’s surprise Arc was actually there, but not to her surprise, he wasn’t actually present, or helpful. What is he a one trick pony? Her eyes would roll at his offer of ‘whipping out a prosthetic’ that he hasn’t even perfected a design for or even successfully attached to a human. His entitled rich kid attitude was least to be desired in her current mood and it didn’t help her back in the other tent. If this was her medic tent, she’d have strode up to all three of them, Arc, Tarian and Brandt and would have given them orders. She knew tasks she could assign to all of them. Specifically, Arc’s engineering skills could be put to use to actually design proper waste water drainage to reduce the mud and chances of infectious diseases. Quality of life in this tent could be improved with his knowledge, if he ever cared to apply it to help others. But it wasn’t her tent and she knew it wasn’t realistic to believe other people cared to prioritize the sick like her. Leech can handle him. Her eyes will bounce between them before she’d turn back to Gyselle. Seeing Brandt leave, she felt better about not giving his name. 

Brandt, as you're surveying the camp currently unmolested by guards and by the foul smells of the wounded, you do notice a few things that you didn't spot at first. 

For one, something you didn't notice before, but that stands out to you now is the fact that the soldiers here seem to belong to different units. You had already found the unit patch of the crimson guards, and you see the red patch on some uniforms, but there are plenty of others: one of the enlisted cadres strutting about taking note of equipment and stores bore a patch identifying him as a member of the Third Legion's Support Company. A lancer tending to a sickly and thin horse bore the patch of the Third Legion's Imperial Lancer Regiment. Standing near the gate, you spot a patch with a large tower shield on, identfying the two soldiers there as part of the Steel Shields Division of the Ninth Legion, and you recall that the soldiers that were searhing your cart bore a patch with the Thirteenth Legion's nickname, the Unlucky Ones. Now, you had been on campaign with many forces, and while it was a natural thing to work together with different forces in a battle, you had never seen them in the same camps, with very few exceptions. What made even less sense was that it seemed as though the force here was wildly mixed together- you saw few identifiable units with commanding officers and staff sergeants barking orders. There was one more thing that strikes you as particularly odd: Although you only spotted one camp here, the you made out only about one or two dozen tents that were taken up by the troops within the camp. Even assuming that they might have ten men per tent, that would account at most for roughly 200 soldiers. Even with the dozens of sick and wounded, the numbers here were well short of the reports.

Arc gave a measured look to Leech, snapping his journal shut. "And what kind of help would that be?...and for what?"

"Well, as a man of yer talents, I could use some help with this here contraption of mine... built it myself after the years spent in Cyre... thing is though, I'm not an engineer, and if we get it to work more efficiently, I might be able to treat more people in the same amount of time. I don't have the equipment to make another one, so for now, all I need are plans. In return, there might be a way I can help you." Othmar almost whispered the last part, fully aware that the soldiers nearby might overhear him.

Arc kept a long stare on him, but after a long sigh, nodded his head, putting his journal away. "Very well, let us see this.....contraption of yours. Or whatever you might have of it." Arc would then follow Othmar to view the plans/whatever he as of the thing.

Once closer to the hum of the machine, Othmar opens up a latch, and shows you several vials filled with membranes that are filtering the blood, and others that allow the administration of medication intravenously. It looks impressive, and Thia should definitely take a look at this too, you think. Before you have enough time to take it all in though, Othmar goes on: "The pump is the main bit of engineering that is suffering from wear and tear, most of the rest are things that I produce and exchange myself. Now, If the pump is able to move a greater volume, one machine might be able to treat to or even three patients at once. That would be a massive improvement." Still standing close to the machine, so as to make himself harder to hear for prying ears, he adds: "Help me with this, and I might be able to help your group out in return."

Arc examines the machine, confirming it's usage and basic operating systems and output. Arc then begins to look at the vials, tapping them lightly, ".....While I'm not much of an expert in the medical field, I can more than repair the entire machine with what I have on me. As for improving the volume output, that would require a new vial system or some arcane enchantment.....how quickly would you like this done?"

Despite posing the question, Arc was already opening his jacket to retrieve his tools and snapping his fingers, cleaning the machine of any surface dirt and grime. "Also, I ask that when I work, you don't watch.....no offense."

Tarian followed Brandt out. She took a brief inventory of the camp, since it seemed to be their new home for the moment. The lack of tents given the reported size of Arceneaux’s army was what she took note of.

This is about a quarter the size, or maybe half at most, even if they’re reusing the same beds in shifts and everyone else is on patrol right now. Supplies certainly don’t look enough for eight hundred.

"This doesn’t quite match the reports. There’s just too few. I get that intel can get things wrong, but this is pretty wrong." Tarian stepped closer to Brandt. "Anything beside their numbers seem a bit odd to you? And, better question, I suppose: is there any way you can think of that we could turn this to our advantage?"

Othmar gives you another look Arc, but doesn't question yo ufurther, and returns to tending to to the wounded. In so doing, he murmurs: "I'll be able to look over the plans by tonight, if that works for you." Then, he turns his back. Seeing that Gyselle has just finished with Thia, he smiles at her: "Well, looks like yer clear to help us. If you don't mind, Gyselle can show you to our tents, that way your group can rest in a tent, if you want. I got yer engineer to help me with my pneumatic filtration setup, but given yer interest before, I take it you have seen similar symptoms, and you likely know what's causing them, am I right?" He seems to be wanting to test your medical knowledge here, to see what you're made of.

------------------------

Tarian, just as you're discussing with Brandt, the tent flap to the command tent opens up, and Njalgas is escorted out, by two guards, and without the telelith. Looking at you sheepishly, he stammers: "The Marshal says we've got to stay here until she gets a response from the Council. They also demanded that I show them how to work the telelith... I'm sorry, we won't be able to contact anyone outside without supervision, it seems."

Thia would look and nod to Othmar when he would address her. "Yes." Her eyes would move from the dwarf and scan the patients in the tent before looking back to him, searching his eyes. Although she appreciated the spirit behind the challenge, she'd answer him with an honest and straight expression, "Here's to hoping that my first thought is wrong."

Never wanting to develop the habit of making assumptions of conditions without a thorough review, assuming she was free too, the medic would move through the tent assessing patients. Were they all suffering from the same symptoms? The same as the young boy and the patients at the church? Thia would move to Leeche's contraption, hovering around Arc poking around at it. Was it in fact filtering the blood as she suspected? For the liver or the kidneys? The yellowing in her patients had her immediately suspect the liver. Have they autopsied? Her eyes would pull away from the machine to see if there were an operating room of sorts to confirm that possibility. Asking out loud in a room full of sick was not the best approach, even if could be the most efficient.

Thia, you notice that in a curtained-off area of the tent, there is a large wooden table, with ample sawdust strewn around on the muddy floor below. Both are relatively clean, indicating that they have been changed recently. 

Going over the patients, about a third of them suffer from afflictions you'd expect from an army on the march, such as injuries to their feet, such as blisters down to the bone, some of which have been infected and give off a sweet and sickly rotting smell; Some have open sores between their legs from the chafing of the rough woolen trousers; A few are dehydrated and shaking with bad cases of dysentery; many more have open sores on their skins and rotting gums and missing teeth, and often they are too weak to even lift their heads as you approach.

The other two thirds also bear some open sores and bleeding gums, but almost all of them are jaundiced, covered in a cold sweat and burning up with fever. From their arms, you can tell that most have at one point or another been either injected, or like the patients currently in treatment, been hooked up to the filtration pump. The symptoms look very similar, but from your studies you're immediately reminded of the Cyrean fever, that disguised the poison among the refugees at first. Judging by where these soldiers were coming from, it was well possible that they'd come down with the disease.

Gyselle was glad to have someone to talk to besides Leech and her patients. She had never particularly enjoyed being part of the legion, but after what had happened ... what choice did she have.

After checking on all of the patients with Corti and Thia, she would continue to flit between them. Changing a dressing here, administering medicine there, bringing water to someone else. What was most notable is how she seemed to almost glide from person to person and remain in near constant motion.

While she was doing this she would bombard Thia and Corti with questions. Like ‘how old are you?’ ‘Where are you from’ ‘how long have you been traveling?’ ‘Why did you start traveling’ trying to get a sense of the new arrivals. Though she’ll be cut a bit short in talking with Thia as Leech would get her attention. She would devote most of her attention to Corti having not met a warforged that wasn’t trying to shoot her.

Thia would pace a little as she’d complete her investigations on the sick, double, triple, quadruple checking until she’d finally allow herself to accept the similarities. Her eyes would dart to Leeche and then Gyselle. Whoever was most available, she’d approach them. “Spotting or marbling on the liver?” She’d ask flatly.

Leech had a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, but didn't allow it to creep into a smile, for the horribleness of the situation. He simply nodded and said: "Marbled. So you know..." The look exchanged is laden with all the fears and worries of a veteran who is afraid that these news can bring nothing good. "Who got sick among yours?"

Arc spends a few minutes examining the machine, and following its lines to see how it works as well as which mechanisms define the volume, force and pressure of the machine. 

19 + (Artisan’s Intuition) 4

The pump is powered by steam, and the piston generates a vacuum. The steam pressure is regulated by a valve and controlled with a small pressure gauge. The other end of the tube is capped in punctured rubber, allowing the air to be pushed out asthe piston rises, but not allowing new air into the main pump. The pump intself then connects to four small rubber tubes: two to carry the patient's blood to and from the pump, and two for any additional administered substances. The largest part of the machine is taken up by the filtration system. Several thin plates of clay coated in a copper-alloy form two pairs of chambers, with distilled water entering on the one side, and the blood of the patients entering on the other.

Thia would give Leech a slight nod before taking a deep breath and exhaling. She couldn’t help but rub her forehead, speaking quietly. “None of us here. But many Cyrean refugees back at headquarters...” The dwarf would be able to see the symbol of the Veiled Valour on her sleeve. It was something she learned quickly not to boast about here, and would wait to see if Othmar had any judgement.

Having finished tending to the patients in the tent and with her conversations with Corti and Thia, Gyselle stands quietly nearby listening to the conversation with a look of awe and wonderment on her face.