[right][h3][b][i][color=B100de]Master Plum[/color][/i][/b][/h3][color=B100de]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color]
[color=B100de][i][b]Location: [/b][/i][/color]Shadowell Manor: Music Room (Couch Left)
[color=B100de][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=B100de][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 5
[color=B100de]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

[color=B100de]
"Yes, yes, of course doctor, of course..."
[/color]

What a strange examination, now that everyone was out save for the three who just came in, it seemed the good doctor was able to proceed. Ocular response? Was it not his foot that was injured and not his eyes? A strange way about it indeed. Detrimental agents? It was his own knife that stabbed him! And apparently this doctor skipped the lesson of doctoring, that is to obtain a good history before the physical. A diagnosis was difficult at times, yet a physical exam without an ample history would yield a misguided search. But Plum knew no better, twas not his profession after all. And thus he complied with the oculomotor exam, his eyes darting from the knob to the brooch, and back to the cane. Like a tennis ball being hit between cane and flower. A strange exercise inde-

What was he doing again? The metronome of his pupils jostled with every treble counted, shifting from cane to flower and back and back. In a daze Plum found himself mesmerized, head bobbing along as his eyes commanded the horizontal. A mental easing, like acid melting the cautious mind. He probably should not have trusted Swamp, but then again he was a doctor. Of what however, well, that'll be something to find out.