New Story Series: Dr. Stalwart's Adventures. -

[Olhelm]

Sup. This was born out of an idea in chat. Hoping to follow up on it with more stories. This will be the hub for them.


Shunni lay in bed, hand clutching his chest. He breathed heavily, straining to inhale precious air while his mother looked out at the dock, waiting. As an (admittedly) decrepit boat rocked into place, she alerted Shunni. He had been ill for quite some time, and the family had no money to pay for bills. The other month, Shunni’s father had defeated a strange man in a game of cards, who had offered to operate on him. The door knocked, and the mother raced for the door, opening it and gazing at the two men at the doorstop.

The man in front was rather short, about eye level with the mother. His dark skin seemed to blend into the darkness of night, his coat revealing his form. Behind him, the mother assumed, was the boat’s captain, a burlesque man, with an eye shut and scarred over. His auburn hair was tied tightly into a ponytail, and he reeked of ale.

“Stan’ aside, lass.” Was all the big man said, nudging her aside and taking broad steps toward Shunni. The mother looked at the smaller man, and asked him in her tongue what was happening. The man simply grinned and spoke: “The doctor is sizing up his patient”.

Several hours passed. If a man had been passing by the house, he would have thought a man was killing the inhabitants. Vague shouts of “SCALPEL!” and “GERROUT OF THAT LUNG, YA FUCKIN’ WELTY BASTARD” coasted the small island.

At the end of it all, Shunni was unconscious and wrapped up, and the man triumphantly puffing on a cigar, coat covered in blood. The mother was in shock, and after an (admittedly gross) handshake, the sailor and his partner were back on the waters, coasting eastbound.

Shunni awoke several hours later, and asked for the name of the doctor that saved his life. His mother only caught one word of his name, and spoke it in a hushed tone.

“Stalwart.”

 

[snakesvsplanes]

Something like this, right? We need more visual reference for dear Stalwart.

 

[Olhelm]

Something like this, right? We need more visual reference for dear Stalwart.

Something like that. But less gay. Older, wiser, hair strained and in a ponytail, and in a navyman's coat.

 

[Stratomsk]

Something like that. But less gay. Older, wiser, hair strained and in a ponytail, and in a navyman's coat.

Spoiler: He will look essentially like this.

A bit younger with a ponytail and auburn hair and we have our protagonist.

 

[Olhelm]

Spoiler: He will look essentially like this.

A bit older with a ponytail and auburn hair and we have our protagonist.

 

[Olhelm]

Don't mean to double post, but:

Spoiler: Chapter 1, Part 1

The salty sea air was the best medicine, according to Dr. Stalwart. His face remained in a lax smile as his vessel coursed the vein-like spaces between the isles of Micronesia. Stubby was in his room, most likely reading some form of London trash. Stalwart was fine with that, he preferred sailing on his lonesome. It gave him time to reflect on his affairs.

His ship, The Forecep, was a crude vessel, to say the least. Her rudders were used, and her paint peeling, giving way to the plated steel beneath. He had always loved the boat, despite her troubles, and her graceful slalom through the wakes proved his skill with her. As he slowed into harbor on an island with no name, he contemplated the pay he would receive for this next job.

It was an old man that required his help. Above seventy, he had been dealing with several infections for the past five years. His daughters believed that Stalwart could perform some miracle and make the infection simply leave.

He took a swig of his preferred gin, and smiled. It wouldn’t be right to disappoint the women.

Stepping off the Forecep and tying it to the pier, he signaled to Stubby through the porthole window and began to trot through the village, towards the home of the patient. In his hand, he clutched his medical case (which was really nothing more than a bulging duffel bag), which occasionally dipped due to the great weight of it.

The home was nothing special, Stalwart thought. A thatched-roof hut that gave the illusion of uncivilized people, although the abode had electricity and water. The patient lay still on his recliner, fast asleep.

Stalwart set down his bag as quietly as he could and walked up to the sleeping form, eyeing him over. Lanky and tall, skin a mocha brown and long silvery hair. The look of a gatherer. The doctor slipped on his gloves, retrieved his IV pouch, and in his most booming voice, he yelled:


“GE’ UP, YA LAZY RATTAILED CUN’! WE GO’ SOME WORK TO DO, AND YER BUMMIN’ AROUND?”

As predicted, the man awoke, and promptly went into hyperventilation. His breathing sounded normal, giving Stalwart the knowledge that his lungs weren’t infected.

“Alri’, Alri’, yer good, settle down.” He dismissed the patient and explained who he was. The patient was relived, albeit a tad frightened, to see the doctor.

“Wha’d you expect, some ninny? Real fuckin’ respectful, ya sod. Now lay dow’ on the table, and we’ll star’.”

The man complied, and as Stubby entered holding a smaller bag of tools, Dr. Stalwart began the long battle with the infection.

 

[A Random]

Something like that. But less gay. Older, wiser, hair strained and in a ponytail, and in a navyman's coat.

What's gay about Captain Harlock?

 

[Olhelm]

What's gay about Captain Harlock?

Gay in the sense that his jaw is too feminine. As is the color scheme. For me, at least. Not saying he's a bad character or anything, the design just doesn't agree with me.

 

[Olhelm]

Again with the double posting.

Spoiler: Chapter 1, Part 2

Listlessly, the doctor paced in his corner in the bar. His mind was ablaze in thought, the sentiments of which Stubby shared. Stubby himself was seated, fervently sipping a drink of some form and makeup. A crude concoction of mango and vodka it was, hastily put together by the rookie bartender. The island was not particularly known for its alcohol, after all. With a grunt, Stalwart sat across from his acquaintance, slamming a clenched fist down on the table.

“DAMMIT!” he grunted. “Will ya quit shovelin’ down tha’ gunk and help me think o’ somethin’? You’re be’er at these sortsa things, Stubbs!”

Stubby, for his part, calmly and eloquently shrugged in response. “I don’t know, sir. If this infection is as bad as you think, there’s not a whole lot that can be done, apart from, perhaps, evacuation.” Another sip, and the dark man peered into his glass. “It IS a rather brogue mix, though. Maybe I can get a refund.”

Stalwart had his head in his hand. “We ca’ do that, ya know. If tha’ infection spreads, this whole town’ll be erased.” A few more moments of thinking, and the captain stood, a grimace of compromising determination washing across his face.

“Thas’ it! Thas’ ri’ it, Stubby! If this fuckin’ infection is spread by wa’er, like I think it is, then we ca’ simply seal th’ wells! I’ll dro’ in an abiotic, ‘n… Oh.” He slumped again. “Bu’ they need to drink, don’ they?”

“Yes, captain.”

“I see.” He stood again. “PLAN B, STUBBEH, AND RI’ THIS DOWN!”

“No.”

“WE’LL SET OFF A’ DAWN, AND LEAVE BEHIND OUR WATER TREATER!”

“Are you certain, captain? If we leave that, then-“

“Ah know, Stub. Bu’ I can make a new one ri’ sharp. These folks, they need a crutch.”

A short victory dance (and a few punch holes in the wall due to it) later, and the captain had the bucket and treating fluid, and showing the townsfolk how to operate it, if rather crudely.

“ALRI’, YA FUCKIN’ DAD DODS! I mean, sad sods. THIS ‘ERE, THIS IS A NEW WAY TA GET GOOD WA’ER. DON’T BE DRINKIN’ NONE OF THAT WELL SHIT FOR A GOOD WHILE.” He pointed out the trough, how the parts were used, and drunkenly stumbled away afterwards to let the townspeople work with it. He walked up back into the Forecep, got into his bed (with the assistance of Stubby), and quickly passed out.

It was then that Stubby went back out, and showed the people how it actually worked. The Captain wasn’t very clear when he was drunk.