Astalakio

This pony was being rather unhelpful, Betterbones decided, and even as Orange kept assuring him that his injuries were nothing serious and that he'd be fine to return home, he was thinking the opposite. Everypony was so eager to rush off these days. He could understand it from the stunt flying Midnight Orchid that was in here a moment ago, but would it be such a crime if Orange missed a few vodka deliveries because of a serious injury? As a doctor, Betterbones obviously thought not. Still, he would cross that bridge when they came to it. First, to complete his diagnosis. Orange said that his leg hurt when he was stretching it and when he was putting pressure on it. That meant it was sprained, but even if he said it didn't hurt too badly, he couldn't risk there being a fracture as well. For all he knew, Orange was just putting on a strong front and was actually in quite severe pain. It didn't seem likely, but he'd known patients to do so before. "I'm going to use a spell to check for a fracture." He informed his patient, as he opened a book on his desk and flicked to the right page. It was a spell he used quite frequently, but it was always good to remind oneself of the correct execution before performing it. "If it doesn't hurt too much, as you say, you've probably just got a sprain, but if you do have a fracture, even a small one, and we leave it, it could cause some very bad problems in the future. Now, stay still." He took a step back and lowered his head so that his horn pointed toward Orange's leg. Then his horn began to glow with a faint purple aura, which soon spread to his eyes, and finally to the leg he was staring at. He stayed in this position, with intense glowing eyes, for a full minute. This spell allowed him to see the bones in the leg, as if he were peering right through the skin and muscle. He looked carefully at the bones and the joints, but there was no visible damage. Satisfied, he lifted his head again and the glowing auras around his horn and eyes and Orange's leg all vanished at once. "Congratulations." He smiled, "No fracture." So it was just a sprain in his leg. It was also a very long way to Stalliongrad, but perhaps if he made him take someone with him, and if he was going to fly most of the way, he would be alright to go home. Betterbones didn't want to keep him here if he didn't want to stay - but he would if he thought it was for the best. Something else that Orange had said was bothering him now. "I managed to walk here without too much trouble ... even though I can't remember most of it, I must have been in a bit of a haze." Memory loss wasn't a good sign, even though he'd already checked for full-on brain trauma, he might still have a concussion. "Does your head hurt? Well, I mean, did it still hurt from the explosion before you rammed it against my office door?"

Having waited until Midnight was gone and out the way, another satisfied patient, Betterbones turned his attention to Orange, who seemed to be chattering to himself. He waited patiently until the stallion remembered what was going on, and then moved over to examine him as he explained his situation. "How interesting!" He said, as he carefully examined Orange's torso, locating some bad bruising along his ribs. "I've never met a pony who brews vodka, you know. I've also never met a pony who's been in a vodka explosion, so you're something of a novelty, my friend. Stamp your rear left leg for me?" That leg was worrying. He had noticed the pronounced limp when Orange had walked over to take his seat. A fracture, perhaps, or another sprain. "Does that leg hurt more when you put pressure on it, or when you stretch it?" He enquired, stretching out his own left hind leg to demonstrate what he meant. A sprain was caused by an overstretched ligament, so if it was a sprain, it would hurt more to stretch it. He hoped it was a sprain, because a fracture would be far more problematic for both doctor and patient. With the bruising, a possible sprain or fracture, not to mention the slightly singed wings among other possible injuries he had yet to locate, it already looked less and less likely that Orange would be fit to leave for Stalliongrad any time today.

Well I've never been as scared of anything as this guy was of his dad (never had a reason to be, thankfully), so I can't imagine the bravery it must of taken to do what he did. All I can do is join the rest in congratulating him and wishing him the best.

This pony's rambling was a little irritating, but it definitely seemed to be brought on by social awkwardness rather than any damage. The doctor had finished with his torch by the time Orange had told him his name, and simply sat and listened to him with a bemused expression until the younger pony realised he was rambling and assured him that he would wait to be seen to. Betterbones was quite worried about this second patient of his, given that an explosion of any kind usually resulted in an instant trip to an emergency centre, rather than a stroll to the local doctor's (not that he didn't think he could handle it). However, since he already had a patient waiting on him, he had to take Orange's word that he would be alright for the moment. "Good enough for me." Betterbones said, and waited until Orange was safely sat in the seat, before going back over to Midnight. "Sorry about that." He said to her politely, "Since you were steady enough to go and fetch that water, we can assume you don't have a concussion, but..." He made a quick examination of Midnight's head, moving around her to make sure there was no serious damage that he could attend to. "Yes, expect a particularly pretty bruise tomorrow." He then trotted back over to his desk, maintaining that casual pace he had kept in everything he did throughout this bizarre event. He never seemed to rush in anything he did or said. He retrieved a key from beneath a pile of papers that had accumulated on his desk, and used it to open a container in the cupboard from which he had got the pillows. Inside this container, which was little more than a long metal box, was an extensive set of different little pots, each one labelled and organised under categories. It took him less than a second to find the one he was after, and he placed it on the table between himself and Midnight. The pot of pills was soon joined by a piece of paper, which Betterbones wrote on, prescribing three-to-four pills a day, as required. "Luckily, this pain medication will help with your head as well as that wing." He explained, "You'll be glad to hear it'll heal on its own. It will hurt for a while, however. I would usually instruct a patient not to use the limb in question at all for a few days, but I get the distinct impression that you're not the type for bedrest, so all I can say is to take one of these to help with the pain when it's bad, and try not to perform any stunts that are... too groundbreaking." He smiled hopelessly at that point, very much like a parent lecturing his child. "Oh, and these are for you too." He added, and placed a small paper packet on the table. "Now," He continued, "Usually I give my patients eight cookies each, but you did fly into my door, and that might cause structural problems in the future. Therefore, I have deducted half of your cookie allowance, leaving you four."He held up a hoof as if expecting protest, "I'm sorry, but you've got to take a stand with these things, and that's how it is. Mr. Tundra over there will be receiving the same penalty, I assure you. So as long as there's nothing else you need help with, I think you'll be glad to know you're good to go." He stopped abruptly, realising he had made an unconscious rhyme, and made a mental note to write that one down for one of his poems. Rhymes were in short supply these days, he found, and when you made one by accident, you certainly shouldn't just let it go.

Annoyingly, the internet has been down while I've been visiting my parents, so while I've been writing around 2000 words per day, now I can go home and update my page, it's going to look like I slacked off for ages and then did 6000 words at once

Berryshine?! I'm sure I've already used that for the name of a secondary character in my RP character's bio! Thieveses!

To be honest, with parents like that I think I'd rather be out of the house than in it... >.>

Wow, that's ridiculous. Overreact, much? Feel sorry for that guy

This looks pretty darn awesome. I suck so badly at every videogame in existence, but that won't stop me playing them

The doctor was quite surprised when Midnight took it upon herself to drench the unconscious pony where he lay on the table. "That's going the extra mile..." He noted, and looked at her, "I was just going to flick some at him." He made a flicking motion with his hoof to demonstrate, as the orange pony began to stir. "I suppose your way works too." The orange and ash-covered pony opened his eyes, and Betterbones could practically see his memory coming back to him (which meant no amnesia, which was a good thing at least). He opened his mouth to tell him not to do anything drastic, but before he could the new arrival had slammed into the door of his office. "Do I have a pony magnet installed in my door?!" Betterbones demanded, baffled by this repeated motif that was developing. He wondered if maybe he should replace the darn thing with some curtains, or just have an empty doorway. If ponies kept running into it, it wouldn't be long before one of them did some serious damage to themself. The pony that had now taken Midnight's previous position by the door had blurted something about an imperial guard, and now muttered that he was giving up. Betterbones shot Midnight a look of confusion accompanied by a shrug, before he walked back over to the orange pony and got down on the floor so that he was level with him. "You think the guard's coming to take you away for injuring that pony?" He asked, and then pointed to Midnight with a hoof, "That pony who is stood over there?" He smiled, "I'm not a lawyer, but I don't think opening a door on somepony is enough to back an arrest warrant. Now. Stay still, eyes open wide." He reached back into one of his coat pockets and retrieved a little black torch, which he gripped in his mouth. He then proceeded to shine it in one of the pony's eyes, keeping his head still with his hooves, and then the other. When he was satisfied with the results, he put the torch down and looked at him intently. "Can you tell me your name, and count backwards from ten out loud?" He glanced over his shoulder at Midnight, not wanting her to think he was neglecting one patient for another. "Be with you in just a second."

I might check this out. Or not. I'm still only in the midst of season one, so I don't want to be hearing about a bunch of stuff that hasn't happened yet...

That's right... you guys keep posting. I'm not going to say a single thing until the posting dwindles to a stop, then I'll post a single reply, and take the victory for myself! MWA-HA-HA-HA-wait...

Thank you! And if anyone's interested, http://www.nanowrimo.org/en/participants/j-m-boulton That's me.

Just finished my first 5000 words today. 10% done on the second day. Think I might just manage this, you know.

((Accidental double-post. Sorry ))