Fresh From the Hedge
Jenny "Opera" Valoise
Angry Mute Medical Student
Skills of Note:
Medicine (Surgery) 3
Weaponry (Knives) 2
Subterfuge (Lying) 2
Tolerance For Biology
Jenny Valoise was destined for great things, or so she thought. Despite the only child of a single father, she grew up happy. Her father was a retired veteran and a good man, though the fear of his little girl being attacked or accosted did lend itself to teaching her to defend herself at an early age.
Blessed with brains and beauty and an honest countenance, Jenny was always on the verge of falling into ultra-popularity. However, she focused her energy on living up to her father’s dreams – to become a doctor. This did create some tension with her schoolmates, who were often more interested in getting into her pants and, when that failed, deriding her nobility and good nature. Dealing with people came easily when things were calm, but if her ire grew her reason diminished. And her remarkable voice carried down the halls.
Academics being strong, she attended a well-known university to study medicine. While she was able to make friends, she spent most of her time studying. And working. Being an assistant in the medical school gave her access to doctors, nurses, and patients long before she would have normally. And that was where she met Ogarrd.
Ogarrd was a shy, mild-mannered old doctor who spent most of his time with corpses. Having been a corner at one point, he has great insight into death. And he had lots of stories to tell, though many always took a twist for the supernatural. Jenny enjoyed her late nights with him, listening to his tales and becoming greatly skilled at dissecting and analyzing the body.
After several years her coursework began to get serious and she was hard-pressed to find time outside of her academic schedule. But when she could, she would visit Ogarrd and help him with bodies or lab work. More often she would find him in odd company – people with somewhat strange body types and mannerisms with peculiar ailments. Ogarrd was hesitant to let her help at first, but her earnestness won through and soon they tended to these patients together as often as not.
Unbeknownst to Jenny, Ogarrd was a Darkling Leechfinger of the Winter Court specializing in medicine and body disposal. While not aware of her situation, Jenny was well-respected by the Winter Court for her expertise, dedication, and most of all discretion. She also had a knack for staying calm and resisting the normal “weirdness” many mortals experienced around the Wyrder Lost.
One night during her first year as a medical student Ogarrd called upon her at her apartment. The matter was urgent – a friend was dying. Jenny, despite her exhaustion over such a long day, immediately went with him to the morgue where they tended to a man with obscene bruising and scarring. It was clear he’d been in battle, but with what Jenny couldn’t begin to fathom. Until He walked in.
Appearing seemingly from nowhere, a man – or something like a man – strode up to their worktable. Ogarrd looked afraid, but he had the wherewithal to grab his friend and fling him over his back in a desperate attempt to escape. Jenny had no such fear. This man caped in blades, eyes burning various shades of chemical luster, stared at her and she stared back. He then began to laugh a terrible, derisive laugh. And her anger flowed faster than ever she could remember. She yelled at him, swung her scalpel, and even managed to get him to back off a step. Ogarrd saw out of the corner of his eye what was going on but knew his only chance was to run. He did not turn back.
This being was impressed with her tenacity but little more. However, she had cost him his quarry at that moment and the screeching was unappealing. He waved his hand and she stopped. Jenny could feel everything but control nothing. She listened to his delicate, mind-numbing voice ask her about these people, her patients, her work with Ogarrd, and she resisted answering as best she could. In desperation she painstakingly raised her scalpel to her throat, hoping the threat of suicide would ward off this intruder. The man laughed, and her eyes went wide and she felt her own hand cut into her flesh and carve out her voicebox. But she didn’t die. No blood came from the wound. She could even her the faint whispers of her voice emanating from the fleshy mass as she handed it over to this devil. His smile was the last thing she remembered before her awareness of Fae.