Hospital
It was, in all honesty, a nice day. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining, the plants were green (or whatever color variant was natural to them). Unfortunately, Crono could not take part in it. Supposedly, he was resting in the bed so generously provided by the royal treasury (at the request of Princess Nadia) waiting for the surgeon, similarly provided, to come check on him and his wounds. In actuality, he stood near the small window, his heavily bandaged arm resting on the sill. He stared dreamily out the window, past the sea, far out to a small uninhabited island just visible on the horizon. On the roof of the building he was in, he could hear a bird busily chirping away. As he listened, his usually calm demeanor changed. His shoulders slumped down, his mouth curled downward into a frown, and his eyelids fell to slits. It almost seemed as if gravity had suddenly gotten stronger. Then, with a sudden start, he slammed his right fist into the windowsill, cracking the wood and leaving a mark on his hand. He slowly sank to his knees, until his cheek was pressed against the sill he had just smashed. He remained soundless as ever as two streaks of water fell from his eyes and struck the wood.
* * *
.pain.
.Where am I?.
The sickly green covering the walls, together with the harsh glare of light reflected off of metal, combined to make a sight with almost no visual appeal whatsoever. Indeed, the man was tempted to close his eyes again just to shut out the sight.
Looking around, he noticed several things instantly. One was the tray of metal instruments beside him, and another was the man, obviously a doctor, bellowing for something that the patient had never heard of. However, his attention was most drawn to the item that was the cause of his presence in the hospital, a short, green arrow standing stiffly out of his chest. Another look over to the nearby table revealed two other such arrows with blood-covered tips lying there. As he was doing this, the doctor, having apparently gotten what he was shouting for, turned around and returned to the bed. He deftly snatched up one of the multiple tools on the table and proceeded to remove the third arrow, then patched the small wound with gauze and medical tape. After standing back a moment to view his work, he turned and left in a hurried clip.
Once sure that the doctor had left, the patient carefully sat up on the bed. A wave of dizziness kept him abed a moment, but the feeling quickly passed. A short walk on unsteady feet led him to the small closet attached to his room, where he discarded his ill-fitting gown for the newly pressed attire within. A green tunic and purple pants that reminded him far too much of royalty found their way onto him, and a short sword slipped into his belt. A small crossbow, with a quiver of short, black arrows was placed upon his back, and a luxurious gold and silver brooch held his gray cloak in place over them. A quick search of the pocket of the tunic revealed a thick wad of money. The only other thing that he had was a small scrap of orange paper that had several lines of small, unintelligible symbols on it. On the top was the only thing on it the patient could make out. It said, in clearly defined letters,
"Grumman."
Stuffing the piece of paper back into his clothes, the patient shook his head, and stepped out into the hall. Almost instantly, an orderly turned about and said, "Hey! You can't-"
With the grace of one with years of practice, the man whipped the crossbow from between his shoulders and shot the nurse in the left shin. Her scream was entirely disproportionate to the wound she had suffered, but she was used to seeing pain, not feeling it.
* * *
Crono was roused from his soundless weeping by a scream from beyond his door. Before the shrill sound expired, Crono had swept his sword up from its resting-place on the wall and bolted out the door.
Retreating down the hallway was a garishly clothed man who seemed not to understand the sanctity of hospital grounds. Indeed, he brandished a crossbow towards any patient or doctor who peeked out from the confines of the their rooms. Suddenly, the man looked over his shoulder, and apparently the appearance of a battle-ready warrior forced him into a dead out run. Crono smiled grimly and pursed him as well as he could with his slight limp. Even with his disadvantage, it only took Crono a moment to reach the man and prod him in the back with the Rainbow.
Apparently, Crono had become a little too sure of his abilities, and was caught completely flat-footed when the stranger spun about and parried with a short sword of his own. Crono might have been able to slice through the blade cleanly with a swift double-handed stroke, but his opponent's blade rang true, and besides, Crono did not have use of both his hands. So, the quick parry sent Crono reeling back into the wall with a heavy thud, and the man quickly followed up with a slash at the head. Unable to bring his sword up in time, Crono warded off the blow by bringing up his bandaged arm for protection. The other found his sword to be stuck in Crono's layers of bandages. Crono thrust upward below his wrapped arm, and the stranger barely avoided an unpleasant hit to the crotch. Letting go of his blade, the man brought up the crossbow and aimed it at Crono's stomach. Crono responded by simply slicing the tip off of the arrow. His opponent ignored this and pulled the firing mechanism, launching the headless arrow right into Crono's stomach. Without a point, it did little more than knock the wind out of him, but the man took that time to tackle Crono and knock away his sword. A quick brawl ensued, until the patient slugged Crono across the face, dazing him. He stood, rubbing his shoulder, and retrieved his weapons before leaving Crono to his fate. By the time Crono regained his senses and pursued him, he was gone.
It was, in all honesty, a nice day. Birds were chirping, the sun was shining, the plants were green (or whatever color variant was natural to them). Unfortunately, Crono could not take part in it. Supposedly, he was resting in the bed so generously provided by the royal treasury (at the request of Princess Nadia) waiting for the surgeon, similarly provided, to come check on him and his wounds. In actuality, he stood near the small window, his heavily bandaged arm resting on the sill. He stared dreamily out the window, past the sea, far out to a small uninhabited island just visible on the horizon. On the roof of the building he was in, he could hear a bird busily chirping away. As he listened, his usually calm demeanor changed. His shoulders slumped down, his mouth curled downward into a frown, and his eyelids fell to slits. It almost seemed as if gravity had suddenly gotten stronger. Then, with a sudden start, he slammed his right fist into the windowsill, cracking the wood and leaving a mark on his hand. He slowly sank to his knees, until his cheek was pressed against the sill he had just smashed. He remained soundless as ever as two streaks of water fell from his eyes and struck the wood.
* * *
.pain.
.Where am I?.
The sickly green covering the walls, together with the harsh glare of light reflected off of metal, combined to make a sight with almost no visual appeal whatsoever. Indeed, the man was tempted to close his eyes again just to shut out the sight.
Looking around, he noticed several things instantly. One was the tray of metal instruments beside him, and another was the man, obviously a doctor, bellowing for something that the patient had never heard of. However, his attention was most drawn to the item that was the cause of his presence in the hospital, a short, green arrow standing stiffly out of his chest. Another look over to the nearby table revealed two other such arrows with blood-covered tips lying there. As he was doing this, the doctor, having apparently gotten what he was shouting for, turned around and returned to the bed. He deftly snatched up one of the multiple tools on the table and proceeded to remove the third arrow, then patched the small wound with gauze and medical tape. After standing back a moment to view his work, he turned and left in a hurried clip.
Once sure that the doctor had left, the patient carefully sat up on the bed. A wave of dizziness kept him abed a moment, but the feeling quickly passed. A short walk on unsteady feet led him to the small closet attached to his room, where he discarded his ill-fitting gown for the newly pressed attire within. A green tunic and purple pants that reminded him far too much of royalty found their way onto him, and a short sword slipped into his belt. A small crossbow, with a quiver of short, black arrows was placed upon his back, and a luxurious gold and silver brooch held his gray cloak in place over them. A quick search of the pocket of the tunic revealed a thick wad of money. The only other thing that he had was a small scrap of orange paper that had several lines of small, unintelligible symbols on it. On the top was the only thing on it the patient could make out. It said, in clearly defined letters,
"Grumman."
Stuffing the piece of paper back into his clothes, the patient shook his head, and stepped out into the hall. Almost instantly, an orderly turned about and said, "Hey! You can't-"
With the grace of one with years of practice, the man whipped the crossbow from between his shoulders and shot the nurse in the left shin. Her scream was entirely disproportionate to the wound she had suffered, but she was used to seeing pain, not feeling it.
* * *
Crono was roused from his soundless weeping by a scream from beyond his door. Before the shrill sound expired, Crono had swept his sword up from its resting-place on the wall and bolted out the door.
Retreating down the hallway was a garishly clothed man who seemed not to understand the sanctity of hospital grounds. Indeed, he brandished a crossbow towards any patient or doctor who peeked out from the confines of the their rooms. Suddenly, the man looked over his shoulder, and apparently the appearance of a battle-ready warrior forced him into a dead out run. Crono smiled grimly and pursed him as well as he could with his slight limp. Even with his disadvantage, it only took Crono a moment to reach the man and prod him in the back with the Rainbow.
Apparently, Crono had become a little too sure of his abilities, and was caught completely flat-footed when the stranger spun about and parried with a short sword of his own. Crono might have been able to slice through the blade cleanly with a swift double-handed stroke, but his opponent's blade rang true, and besides, Crono did not have use of both his hands. So, the quick parry sent Crono reeling back into the wall with a heavy thud, and the man quickly followed up with a slash at the head. Unable to bring his sword up in time, Crono warded off the blow by bringing up his bandaged arm for protection. The other found his sword to be stuck in Crono's layers of bandages. Crono thrust upward below his wrapped arm, and the stranger barely avoided an unpleasant hit to the crotch. Letting go of his blade, the man brought up the crossbow and aimed it at Crono's stomach. Crono responded by simply slicing the tip off of the arrow. His opponent ignored this and pulled the firing mechanism, launching the headless arrow right into Crono's stomach. Without a point, it did little more than knock the wind out of him, but the man took that time to tackle Crono and knock away his sword. A quick brawl ensued, until the patient slugged Crono across the face, dazing him. He stood, rubbing his shoulder, and retrieved his weapons before leaving Crono to his fate. By the time Crono regained his senses and pursued him, he was gone.
