Mr. Ericson appeared in front of the fireplace in the teachers' lounge cradling the unconscious Thomas in his left arm. Fragments of a hearthstone dropped from his right hand. Getting to his feet with Thomas in his arms, he quickly scanned the room. Unlike most weekend mornings, there were no other teachers making use of the comfortable space while they were waiting for some student's emergency or a self-study request to drag them away from whatever relaxation they had planned. Mr. Ericson quickly carried his burden into the hall of the administration building. Seeing that the warrior's floor, that is the third, was still unoccupied, he ran down the hall to the external staircase at the end. Bursting onto the landing, he spotted a student approaching the building, possibly looking for their mentor.
"You there, Mage!" Mr. Ericson's bellow echoed off the various buildings of the school. Startled, the student's head shot up to the landing. Seeing Mr. Ericson holding a body instantly focused his attention. "Run to the healer's ward. Tell the nurse that I am bringing a student who has been poisoned. Go!" At the final shout the student turned and sprinted as if a wolf was at his heels. The healers ward was its own building, long and single storied, about three hundred yards across from the administration's four floored structure.
By the time Mr. Ericson made it across the field, the nurse on duty, Sister Jana, had an examination table prepared in the long room that served as the student's infirmary. As Mr. Ericson placed Thomas' limp body on the linen covered wooden table, the Sister began a litany of questions.
"What happened?"
"He inhaled poisonous smoke. He was trying some ritual he may have made up."
Peeling open Thomas' mail shirt, the Sister began checking his breathing and eyes. "Well, it's faint but he's breathing. I'll try a cleansing prayer," closing her eyes, the Sister clasped her hands and began a chant under her breath. The light in the room became noticeably brighter, despite the bright sunlight streaming in from the large windows. Soon, the new glow spread from the Sister to Thomas. For a moment, it seemed brighter, but then shattered.
"Why didn't it work? Maybe a healing..." the Sister began chanting again. And again, the spell shattered when it was applied to Thomas.
"That shouldn't have happened. I don't know... Striper! Striper!" A young student priest hurried down the hall from the far end where the supplies were kept.
"Yes, Sister"
"Go find Druid Moonstone. Tell him there's a student poisoned by plants here. Magical healing has failed. We need his help." The Sister glanced out onto the bright lawn, then returned her attention to that day's student aid. "He'll probably be at the alchemy club's field. You must find him fast, wherever he is. Go."
The student priest shot out the door so fast he collided with one of several students that had either seen Mr. Ericson's sprint across the common green space or had heard his bellowed orders to the young mage. Morbid curiosity had drawn the students to gather outside the building in order to learn how their peaceful Sunday had been so drastically disturbed.
Already calling for the Druid, the young priest made a beeline for the garden, jumping over shrubs, and a few students who were too slow to clear his path. Seeing the old elf kneeling by one of the rows of neatly lined plants, he hurried over.
"What's the commotion for, boy," the old, despite his looks, cranky elf asked, catching the messenger by the shoulders.
"Sister Jana sent me. She said to tell you there's a student poisoned by plants in the ward. Magic's not working. She needs your help." The young priest completed his assignment.
"Get yourself back to the Sister." The Druid said gravely. "I'll be along as soon as I get me things."
As soon as the priest took off, apparently attempting to beat his own time over the distance, the old Druid shifted into a very large stag. Bounding away faster than any deer, he was soon at the administration building. Shifting back to his normal body, he took the stairs two or three at a time until he reached his office on the fourth floor. Seizing a large black house shaped box with leather bands and a handle at the top, he spun back the way he came. Barreling through the even larger knot of students, he arrived just as the student priest was telling Sister Jana that he was on his way. Dropping his box on a small cart crowded with medical supplies, he opened it and began to set out various small vials and jars. While continuing to set up an alchemist station on an empty exam table, he began to demand answers from the two instructors. Mr. Ericson, now seated on a third table while the Sister began to work on his ankle, which was swollen to three times its normal size.
"How was he poisoned "
"Inhaled the smoke from poisonous plants"
"What plants?" Asked the Druid as he was selecting a small stone jar.
"Yellow star waterpad, Cordish vine, and white blood poppy."
At this Druid Moonstone stopped. He had been just about to pour something from his stone jar into Thomas' partly open mouth.
"What time did this happen?"
"Last night, as the moon was rising over Griffin Pass"
"And, where were you?"
"On a shelf about a day's climb up the side of three peak, on the ..."
"Side facing Griffin Pass, yes. I know the place," the Druid snarled. Placing the bottle on the empty bed, he turned to the injured teacher. "Are you telling me that this student went on a spirit walk with YOU as his escort? Whose bright idea was that?! Have you ever been on a Spirit Walk? This has got to be the most incompetent plan I've ever heard of! You, a muscle headed moron mentoring a student on his first walk! I've never…" Druid moonstone continued to rant about the foolish decision until the Headmaster arrived.
"Mr. Moonstone, I understand you're upset with our mistake," the Headmaster attempted to bring the irate Druid back to the task at hand, "but Mr. Walker needs your help right now."
"He don't need nothing but rest. I'm guessing you let him burn the whole bundle, didn't you? Idiots! That's a full dose for an experienced walker, not for a student's first time. No wonder he's taking so long to get settled back in. Morons! Haven't you ever heard that Druids and Shamans are two sides of the same coin? Why the devil didn't you bother to ask for my input? I was teaching here when Shaman Grant was a student. I helped him slip his students out before the coalition came for them. But no! you know everything!" The Druid was beginning to pick up steam again when the Headmaster cut him off.
"You're right, we should have consulted you before sending him off. But for now, we need to know if he will be alright and how long will he be unconscious?"
Glaring at the Headmaster, Mr. Moonstone aborted his tirade, "He'll wake in a couple of hours, unless that moron" he pointed at Mr. Ericson "did something to disturb the process. Like say, bringing him back with a Hearthstone or something like that." At this, Mr. Ericson blanched.
"Oh, don't tell me! Morons, the both of you! Gods! I couldn't have fracked this up more if I tried!" The druid returned to his ranting, repeatedly accusing both the Headmaster and Mr. Ericson of poor judgement, incompetence, and everything in between. Both teachers stayed and accepted the rebuke because it was fully deserved, and they knew it. Even if it was being handed to them with much discourtesy, abuse, and insults by a crochety old elf who still looked like a fresh-faced twenty-something.
After a solid hour of ranting, Druid Moonstone finally ran out of steam, but there were still some choice words to be heard as he packed up his items, and left the ward. The students, who had been fully entertained listening to such an epic browbeating quickly and silently parted to let him pass.
Twenty hours after Mr. Moonstone completed his epic rant, Thomas awoke. Looking around he quickly recognized that he was in the infirmary, having been there several times by this point. Some of the bullies he had encountered had been very energetic in their attempts to please Lenard, resulting in his occasional visits to drop off said bullies for treatment more often than needing treatment for himself.
The muted glow of moonlight was entering by the open window. Scanning the area around the bed he was lying in; he saw his armor neatly hung on a chair. The mace and ax he habitually hung from his belt were set on the seat, along with the cap and coif. Raising himself up from the straw mattress and feather pillows, he noticed the armored form of Alex. She was asleep on a chair with her head and arms resting on the edge of the bed, near his knees. She had removed her helmet, and her long brown hair was hanging limply over her shoulder. At his movement, her head suddenly snapped up.
"You're Awake! Thank the gods!" she exclaimed. "I was so worried!" Before Thomas could brace himself in a stable position, Alex had lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his chest. The momentum slammed Thomas back into the mattress, where he found himself buried under an armored, crying paladin.