Swamped

You find yourself curious about anagrams and word ladders. You decide to start with the first, as it's earlier in the book.

With Lisa's help, you read through the instructions.

"An anagram is a simple concept. You take some words, rearrange the letters in them, and spell new words. For example, 'Parry, Riposte' can be rearranged into 'Pears I Pry Rot.' Admittedly, that second one doesn't make a lot of sense, but does that really matter?"

"My aunt and uncle were fencers," Lisa explains. "So almost all their examples have something to do with swords. Anyhow, this might be a bit complicated if you're not used to the letters, but it could also be a good test. So to make this a game, each of us makes a phrase, and the other one has to come up with an anagram of it. If you get stumped on my phrase, though, I have to show you an anagram for it. If I can't, you get a point. If I can, I get it. First to five points wins, in a full game, but that can take a while. So we'll play to first point and then you can decide if you want to keep it up."

"It sounds like good practice," you agree, and you think about your phrase.

'Swamprats!"

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Marshguards smell

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THERIAN?

Because the only other one I've managed to find is HAIRNET, and I'm not sure that's quite right.

"Swamprats," you suggest, a little unsure of yourself.

"Smart Paws," Lisa says quickly. "Pretty simple one, but you're still learning the letters I suppose. Now, how about I give you one... Marshguards smell."

You chuckle at that one a little and try to work on it.

All... mess... rush. mgard left over, that won't do. Dream... small... gush... rs left over, no. Harm... small... reds? That leaves sgu, no. You're not getting anywhere.

"I give in," you say.

"Small red sham rugs," Lisa says with a smile. "Thought I'd give you a tough one and see what you could get out of it. Get a sense of where you were on learning the letters."

"Damn, that was close. I was at Harm Small Reds and couldn't see where to go."

"That leaves you a Gus, but if we're playing for real you're not allowed proper names. Good effort, though. So, would you like to keep this up or..."

There's a loud horn suddenly.

"Damn. That's a call to the auditorium. They'll be doing headcount now... oh, don't worry about having to get out of bed, Medic makes a list of the wounded so you're already counted." Lisa sighs. "Unfortunately, I don't get a choice in the matter. I've got to head over there. Wish I could stay, but sadly I've got to head off. Cindy should still be around, though, I'll send her back in."

"Bye. Thanks for coming."

She smiles at you.

"It's a pleasure. I appreciate knowing someone who doesn't raise a fuss about losing."

You're alone again, until Cindy returns.

"Sorry about that. John would normally be back by now, but it seems there's some complications with the prisoner. So, ah, just let me know if there's anything you need."

Well, you appreciate not being left alone, at least. Maybe this time you can try starting a conversation.

What happened with the prisoner?

>"What's it like being the medic's apprentice? I was thinking of also becoming a medic's apprentice..."

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THERIAN?

Because the only other one I've managed to find is HAIRNET, and I'm not sure that's quite right.

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FARTS

"Are we going to be all right?"

"What happened with the prisoner?" you ask.

"Well, I wasn't told the specifics, but, ah. I can guess. The Marshguards are mainly exiles. Some of them don't handle being captured well, because they spent time in a prison before coming here. We don't usually keep prisoners in cells during the rain, as they've got enough to worry about already, but even so... well, anyhow. I can't be sure if that's the problem, but I've seen it enough times."

She looks a little nervous.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm rambling again, aren't I."

"It's all right," you say. "I don't mind. What's it like being an apprentice medic?"

"Well, I wouldn't say it's easy. I don't usually have to go out into danger, but I do see a lot of wounds. Even if John looks after the worst cases, it still takes a toll."

"I'm thinking about what I can do here with, well, with my missing arm. Wondering if I could handle training to be a medic. Maybe it's a bit soon to be thinking about that, but, well, I haven't got a lot else on my mind right now."

"Hmm. Working with one arm would be hard, but a lot of the time I think it could be manageable. Maybe you wouldn't be able to handle everything, but if you weren't working alone, that might work out."

She seems more comfortable now. Evidently, she likes talking about her planned career.

"Is everything going to be all right? This is the first rain I've seen here, and, well, you probably heard that. How long does it usually last, and what happens when it clears up?"

"Well, we had the big storm a couple of weeks ago. So this should be cleared up by morning. The rainspawn will disappear, back to wherever it is they go when it's dry, and then we try to survey the damage. Find out who's dead, on both sides, and what they broke in their rampage."

"It sounds rough."

"It is. Sometimes it seems we fight the rain more than the Marshguards. And I have to say, I'm a bit worried - we don't usually get rain again this soon after a storm. It feels like an ill omen... I want to say it's just pure chance, but it's hard to believe that when the rain is involved."

"What do you mean?"

She sighs.

"I imagine you've heard about by now, there's a fear that speaking of the rainspawn brings the next rain sooner. I don't - I don't want to believe it's true, but it's hard not to be afraid of it."

She seems to be getting nervous again.

"And, well, that's not the only story going around. The rainspawn are so fearsome, and we know so little about them. How can we not come up with rumors trying to make some sense of them?"

Cindy takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't... I shouldn't be talking like this, after what you've been through. It's true that the rain is a hardship on us all, but most of us haven't lost limbs to it."

"It's all right," you say. "Right now, what I most need is someone to talk to. About anything."

"I understand. I know I'd be terrified if I were in your position. You're holding up well, considering what happened."

"I suppose it's mostly that the pain has stopped," you say with a one-shouldered shrug. "That, and I always felt a bit useless around here even when I had both arms. So I suppose I just don't feel that different."

"Well, I hope you feel better, both physically and in self-regard," Cindy says. "I don't really know much about you, but I do know it can be hard to find your path in life. I know it took me a long time to realize that what I really wanted was to be a medic, help out others in need."

She seems lost in thought.

"Anyhow, we've got about an hour before someone brings your dinner by. It might be John, if he's managed to calm down the prisoner, but even if he's busy you'll still be able to eat. What would you like to do while you wait?"

Can you give me a pseudo-tour of the medical area? Like point at each of those weird medical thingies on the wall and tell me what they are and what they do?

Let's hear about her life history. Why did you join the Bogknights, Cindy?

Suggest a variety of two-handed activities and then get sad.

You consider asking about some of the medical equipment in the room, but you don't feel you're alert enough to remember any sort of complex technical information. You decide to go more social.

"Why did you join the Bogknights?" you ask. You feel a bit awkward, as Cindy's the first person you've asked that of, but you can't deny it seems a bit of a strange choice for her.

She seems a bit taken aback for a moment.

"It's... it's hard to explain. It's as though the swamp was calling me. Asking me to come here. That's how it was for most of us, really. I suppose you're just an exception."

"Calling you?"

"Asking for help. I don't know what else to say. If you didn't hear the same call, well, it's not something I can make any clearer to you."

You don't quite understand it, but you can't help but be reminded of your father. Did he hear the swamp's call, too? And if so, why isn't he here?

Suddenly, there's a loud knock on the door.

"I'll get that," Cindy says. "Should be back soon."

You sit back and wait. You can just barely make out some words in the distance.

"Yes, what do you... oh. Yes, sir, right this way."

A moment later, Cindy comes back in, accompanied by a very tall, imposing man. He wears a swamp-green cloak over his armor, and carries a large, crooked stick. You've seen that in picture books before - a wizard's staff.

But he looks like no wizard you've ever seen. His eyes look stern, yet kind, and he seems only middle-aged at most. Rather than a lengthy beard, he just has a thin, black mustache.

"I'm Captain Long," he says, not waiting for any sort of proper introduction. "I want you to know that I greatly regret what has happened to you. As commander, I bear responsibility for all decisions made by officers on this base, and I thought you should know what I intend to do about this grievous, grievous error that has cost you your arm."

He turns to Cindy and waves her away before taking a few steps closer.

"To begin with, the immediate fault is clearly Sergeant Burgundy's. It is possible that you disobeyed her precise orders, but that is irrelevant; she never should have ordered someone so new, and unfamiliar with the rain, into danger in the first place. Consequently, she has been given a temporary demotion, and will take on the duties of a private for the next three months. At that time, I will decide whether to reinstate her, or whether further disciplinary action is required."

He steps even closer, and sits down in a chair next to your bed.

"But assigning blame is not a solution in and of itself. The more important question is what we will do to prevent another such accident - one that could have easily gone far worse. Many knights have asked that we start speaking openly of the rainspawn to new recruits. I will hold a meeting of the officers to discuss this, but in all honesty, I do not expect this policy to change. That said, I can promise to absolutely forbid allowing recruits who have not been explicitly warned of the rainspawn to leave the base if there is any report of rain."

At this point he turns to look you directly in the eyes.

"But all this talk of punishment and future policy must be of small comfort to you now. The damage has been done already. So, let me tell you what we are able to do as financial compensation, slim comfort as that may be. If you wish to remain in the Bogknights, you will be granted fifty gold pieces in injury payments every month, in addition to your regular monthly salary. We don't really use money on base, but it could be nice when you go on leave. Or, if you wish, you may resign from the force, and leave as soon as the opportunity presents itself. In that case, you will be given one month's salary and five hundred gold pieces. The choice is yours, and yours alone. And you need not make it now. I simply wished to let you know the specifics."

He stands up, and turns to you one last time.

"I believe that is all. Do you have any questions for me before I go?"

Ask him if you can talk to him later if you need to.

hot dang I wanna be a swamp wizard

We should ask if he knows anything about The Dad

And how can you contact him?

Really, there's only one question on your mind. Maybe it's the staff and cloak, maybe it's the imposing figure he presents, but you can't help but feel like the captain is the one person in the base who might know something.

"Sir. The main reason I came here was my father. A scholar. He studied this swamp, and one day he vanished. I... I know this is a long shot, but, have you any idea if he might be around here, somewhere?"

"A scholar of the swamp, you say." Captain Long seems thoughtful. "Sadly, I have no news I can pass along to you, but I will make a note of the matter."

"I'm, sorry for bothering you with it. I suppose you've got a lot to do already."

"Worry not. I am hardly in any place to judge someone for coming here for personal reasons. Is that all?"

"Well. I may want to talk to you later. Once I've decided what I'm doing, I mean."

"Unfortunately, my work keeps me busy much of the time, and even more in the rain. I will contact you when I know I have time to spare, and we can arrange a meeting then. For now, I'm afraid I must get back to work. I hope I have been able to ease your pain in some way."

He leaves, and you find yourself wondering just what it is you've gotten yourself into. You've been given another chance to just leave, although this time with one less arm. Maybe you should take it.

But that can wait. Before long, Cindy comes back in, followed a bit later by Tom First and John Medic with a bigger-than-usual bowl of swamp mush. Even Sergeant Burgundy stops by to apologize, though by that point you're quite worn out. The Medic suggests she come by tomorrow, and you drift off to sleep.

Of course, not everyone is sleeping as soundly as you are tonight. Who else is awake, and what are they doing?

Private Burgundy can't sleep, wrought with guilt!

Legs can't sleep, the rain always makes his joints ache.