Pip's Hellsborough Diary
I'm laid up and on pain killers. It's easy to say that this was just an accident, and it was, but my mind is trying to tell me it was more than that, that there is some deeper meaning to this.
I was out in The Dark Peak, adventuring as usual. The murk was heavy but not excessive. Shad was by my side. My psycmask was fully charged and operating correctly. I had not yet met with Van in any bar, although I was scheduled to do so later in the evening. It really was a nothing of a day, nothing had happened and nothing was happening, it was a quiet walk. A calm and refreshing explore, as is my usual modus operandi.
A while back I mentioned being hoofed over by an inexplicably placed tripwire. This was similar, yet not the same, not so obvious. And on this occasion, I was felled so completely that the impact upon my shoulder as I collided with the forest floor snapped my upper arm bone clean in two. It was the strangest of feelings. I was walking at a normal pace through the Wisewood, and then all of a sudden, the mat of leaves beneath my feet -- as smooth as a snake on a marble sculpture -- simply slid backwards, bringing me down like a sack of spuds.
I knew I had done something "not quite right" as soon as I tried to get up again, since my right arm, as well as being in pain, just didn't work correctly -- no strength, entirely useless. I'm surprised I managed to clamber back up at all, but I did, and made it back to where I'm staying. Once there, my land lady (or owner, or manager, or whatever she is, I've not ever really worked it out) diagnosed the problem straight away -- I have to say, despite operating a business in Hellsborough and living life much like an jellyhead here or hereabouts, her way seems more in keeping with that of the crosslander: She is very knowledgeable on topics of health, welfare and the culinary arts.
Placing my arm in a sling -- there is no concept of a plaster cast -- she dosed me up on heavy duty painkillers, which she called crustins-me-ducktee (or words to that effect); not entirely sure what it would be, but I'd suspect that it had some rockcrust in there somewhere. It certainly did the job with the pain for a while, and she said she'd be more than happy to get me more whenever I felt I needed it. As part of my treatment plan she said that I would be fine to do whatever I needed to do, but don't drink alcohol. I took this as a general statement of advice, rather than a specific thing not to do with the "crustins".
I can confirm that drinking the crustins and a few beers does lead to some very lucid dreams, but I also put that down to the pain that I was in.
As to writing diary entries and continued exploring goes, my writing arm will be in this sling for several weeks, which is going to hamper things somewhat.