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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 3, 2010 0:50:16 GMT -5
"The capitol is home to the greatest schools of healing on this earth. If someone can not help you there, you cannot be helped," said Devshiva thoughtfully. His one eye seemed to be trying to make up for two eyes worth of glaring concentration. "But the next town is the city. It is roughly a week away, if we move well. Nothing is closer. And you are sick. And you have an injury in your leg. At least at that height, the mire will not get into it." Thank the Keeper Adra had the misfortune of going high for the thigh rather than trying to clip his ankle.
"When we get there, though, the Workers of Seals will be able to make you as well as you were when you first stumbled here."
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Post by Arual on Dec 3, 2010 6:08:28 GMT -5
"I appreciate the help....I cant walk this as easily as I thought, not a week's work of traveling. I'm going to have to use my wolf body for now. It's much easier to move in these conditions." Whitte warned out of courtesy.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 3, 2010 15:19:29 GMT -5
'Because wolves are masters of the swamp- notably by how they dominate the landscape.' Dodger thought to himself, he also thought the explanation was to an extent unnecessary and perhaps it was that Whitte enjoyed to just hear himself talk. "I don't need a healer." he croaked, agitating his vocal chords unnecessarily but he figured, or rather hoped the pother's potion would keep him well enough as they traveled and his illness would fade hopefully by the end of the day. Well, other than a bit of occasional nauseousness that was bound to come in little ripples day to day. You know, just things.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 3, 2010 16:18:14 GMT -5
Devshiva made no comment at the protest. Some people preferred to live out an illness, but he saw no reason for it. If one was sick, and someone else could better that, then there was little logic to staying sick. It was not something he felt strongly enough to argue about, however. What other people did with their lives little concerned him.
"It is best to keep your wound out of the water. Too many things, invisible to large, will attack it there," he responded. As a guide he felt it best to give general information now and then. There was no country on earth quite like Floht, which, while not all that dangerous by itself, was deadly without knowledge of it. Much like how a desert would be dangerous to a man who did not know to bring water and food, who had ever been in a badland vaster than a few sandbox's worth. Most Drylanders fell into that problem. "It might be better to use a reed as a brace, to walk with, than to sacrifice your height as an animal." Unless he could fly as sweetly as Dodger could apparently sing.
Which was not at all, at the moment. A lame wolf and a croaking songbird, now that was something that bordered on humor. And here he was, like some wriggling salamander, losing a limb so that the rest of him could escape and live. It was a shame he could not grow it back, but he was not sure if even salamanders could regenerate eyes. A comic trio, still, if there ever was one.
Whatever choices they chose to make, they were people and he was still a Border Guard, even if the world would no longer acknowledge it. 'Aye, said the farmer, boot ye tok uv yer mesk. And he waved the mask around in anger. Nay yah bae wrong, said the man from the north, fair Oy werr aht still.'
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Post by Arual on Dec 3, 2010 16:26:23 GMT -5
"Fair enough." Whitte answered, not switching forms. He could sense the displeasure of his being around Dodger from the way the other man acted. The young man took a reed and snapped it in half. The wound wasn't deep, but it was deep enough to temporarily impair his mobility.
His sister was going to kill him when they finally met up. Worse yet, O Harrah would be extremely disagreeable with him. Hopefully they'd both be happy he was alive and not dead after all this in his travels.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 3, 2010 17:57:52 GMT -5
'What a rousing time for an uplifting tune... or a story...' he mused to himself, not all too serious with it as he was acutely aware that he would be doing no singing for the time being and the same was for storytelling. He momentarily envied those who carried instruments with them as it would give him something to do for the journey but that would involve wasting space to such a thing and he figured probably being rather reliant on it as well. He enjoyed the freedom he was granted with his voice when it was available. Besides, he always did like story more than song.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 3, 2010 18:22:49 GMT -5
So their trek began. Devshiva found it somewhat pleasant. In the north, the thick, branch-like reeds seemed cleaner, with their segmented pieces, even if they grew taller than two men at times and frustrated navigation. Also, the temperature was preferable--less mosquitoes. Less, which was to say not none. he would trade in clammy nights for that any day. They walked through that day and a little bit into the night--wise to get far from the remaining Border Guards. They would think he was dead, not suspecting the attack from the two Drylanders to be a rescue of all things. He hadn't thought it and they wouldn't. But if the trio was stumbled upon, he would die. They could not duplicate this miracle. The other two would be fine; Lareg and Adra's murder had purged those whose lust for death had sapped their honor.
They settled down to camp at a little island around a quickening, which was to say a part of the swamp that was more like a stream, running fast over the silty soil. A good place, less bugs around quickenings, and leeches too.
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Post by Arual on Dec 3, 2010 20:44:56 GMT -5
Whitte rested when he could, but otherwise kept silent....finding it hard to be around Dodger.
branifart))
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 3, 2010 21:50:36 GMT -5
Awkward silence... and so Dodger continued his walking quietly, feeling the weight of the conversation-less voyage grow heavier over his shoulders as he began climbing a tree once more, propping himself up above the ground for safety purposes of course. It was a habit and he rather intended to keep that habit as it had served him well thus far. Quietly he sorted through his mind to choose a song for when he'd be able to sing again until he settled on something and he refreshed his mind with the lyrics. A well written ballad which was not one of the most manly songs one could choose but it was one of his favorites nonetheless and it had been a surprisingly long time since he'd performed it.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 4, 2010 12:48:24 GMT -5
Devshiva walked around, inspecting the area for some or other and carrying a few small boxes of something. He felt nauseous, the stabbing in his head had hardly lessened throughout the day and now settling into a dull, wrenching ache that became a sharp burn when he forgot to watch like an owl and not like a man. When the area apparently met his full satisfaction, he returned. They would have to go without a fire tonight, but he was well used to that. A fire was always a hassle to start--finding dry wood required patience and oftentimes a great amount of luck. Getting wet wood to burn was an exercise in frustration, nothing more. Though a fire started would keep back mosquitoes, for the next few nights it would likely draw worse. And he was too tired to find wood anyway.
There was the songbird, in a tree again. Despite his hard eyes, he smiled dryly. "You cannot actually sleep in that perch," he said, not believing it. Why would one do such a thing? He glanced over at Whitte, half expecting him to be digging himself a hole to sleep in or something equally strange. "We will have to eat in the morning. If anything seems strange, wake me."
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Post by Arual on Dec 4, 2010 15:01:56 GMT -5
If he really had expected Whitte to dig a hole, then Devshiva would be terribly disappointed. From his small pack, he pulled out a small blanket. Slowly making his way down to sit; since his leg was splinted, Whitte sat and leaned against the tree trunk before throwing the small wool blanket over him. He nodded in recognition to Devshiva's request with a soft "Of course." as he figgited with the splint in attempts to settle himself into sleep.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 4, 2010 15:10:07 GMT -5
"I can." he spoke back in a rhasp, "And I intend to." he finished, a small smile on his face as he propped his body up, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes looking around at he scenery and scrutinizing his fellow travellers as they went about their business. If anything strange began to happen, he intended to wake everyone but along with that he intended to be out of harm's way. Entire tribes of people on Turteus' eastern island slept in trees to prevent them from being caught on the ground by some predator and while they could admittedly get into the trees as well- it would very well take longer and they could change terrains faster if it was moving from a tree to the ground than from the ground to a tree. Over time Dodger kept this learned practice and honestly didn't feel comfortable sleeping too close to the ground.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 4, 2010 18:06:45 GMT -5
Devshiva settled, keeping his muscles in grim control until he laid down on the ground, without rushes or any cover. Unfortunately, at this point, nothing could effectively cover them if they were stumbled upon by anyone who knew what they were doing. An effort would be a waste of one. However, they did have luck on their side, at least. No one had reason to be looking for them.
The fat moon kept the night at the point of a clinging dusk (he would have wished for clouds), with shadows blacker than ink and sparkling, etheral water in the strange light the moon made. Little moons seemed to stand around them off in the swamp, treecaps with their pale heads glowing. Even pain could not fight off his exhaustion, and he slept to the calling frogs and insects, familiar sounds.
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Post by Arual on Dec 4, 2010 18:30:38 GMT -5
He walked through the door, fresh soil beneath his feet and the smell of the farm filling his senses. Refreshing and safe, home. The sky was a crytal blue, the sun shining on his face. Raegan was weary, but happy to see and hear his families's voices which he hadn't in five years. "Dobre doshul u doma, sinko." (Welcome home, my son.) said his overjoyed mother, eyes lit in happiness and worried creases in her forehead gone as she ran to him in greeting. "Khubavo e da se pribera, maiko, mi lipsvashe tolkova mnogo." (Its good to be home, Mother, I missed you so much.) His eyes tightened themselves shut, squeezing his mother in their hug. He gave a kiss to both cheeks, smiling as he saw her smile back. "Kude sa vsichki?" (Where is everyone?) "Vsichki te izlyazokha, Raegan." (They all went out, Raegan.) she answered, ushering him in from the wildflowers and woods surrounding their home. Making herself more busywork in the kitchen, she shifted plates and papers from the table. Her skin was paler than her son's, but he had her eyes. Warm dark brown eyes that were shaded nicely with their darker brown hair. Her's was much longer, braided and pulled into a bun at the base of her neck. "Kude beshe? Ti si tolkova slab!" (where have you been? You're so skinny!) she added, poking at him like all mothers do. "O, mamo. Ne sum chak tolkova zle. Osven tova, Valleri e mnogo skinnier ot men, a tya e poveche ot men." (Oh, Momma. I'm not that bad. Besides, Valleri is much skinnier than I am, and she's older than I am.) her son retorted as she placed food before him and sat on the other side of the table. "Otkrikhte li edno momiche?" (Have you found a girl?) "Mai?ka!" (mother!) "Ami ... zashto inache bikhte si otidem tolkova dulgo vreme, a? Samo edno momiche mozhe da napravi nyakoi? opazi ot semei?stvoto si." (Well...why else would you be gone so long, eh? Only a girl can make a man keep from his family.) she chided, still poking some fun at him, but all the more serious at the same time. "Ne, mai?ka, ne sum nameril momiche. Toku-shto bil sam. Opitvate se da razberete kakvo iskam da pravya ... kogato iskam da sum .... kude iskate da otidete." (No, momma, I haven't found a girl. I've just been alone. Trying to find out what I want to do...where I want to be....where I want to go.) Raegan said, sighing with a hand to his head, and neglecting his food. "Zashto tam tryabva vinagi da bude momiche, uchastvashti s vas, khm?" (Why does there always have to be a girl involved, hm?) "Ti ne si malko poveche. Dvadeset i chetiri, i bez zhena. Tryabva da se omuzhi za edin den, Raegan. Dokato ste na mladezhta da napravite sega." (You're not little anymore. Twenty four, and without a wife. You need to marry one day, Raegan. While you have the youth you do now.) she answered, a soft smile now touching her face, a hand on his cheek. "Az shte ya namerite vuv vremeto, mai?ka. No tya nyama da bude nasheto vreme, no Bozhii?." (I'll find her in time, mother. But it won't be our time, but God's.) He ate now, and he could hear voices getting closer now. His family was home. All the missing members, from the oldest to his littlest sister. He picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Something bright caught his eyes as he went to see her face.
Whitte woke up to the sun shining on his face for the first time in days. His leg stung with a painful ripple as he unintentionally moved it from its place on the ground where he slept. He rolled up the blanket, feeling a burdened heart for not having seen his family in a few years. It was for their good, though! He was trying to make some money, get some more in so that his sisters had food and clothes on their backs. Was it so wrong?
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 4, 2010 20:54:31 GMT -5
"Hey Dale! Dale! What do you think you're doing?" the voice sounded cross and very, very rushed and he felt himself being shaken awake.
"What? What do you want?!" he demanded, rousing himself from a nap sheepishly as a bucket of slop was shoved at him and some of the rancid mixture splashed in his face, making his stomach turn.
"Go feed the dragons!" came the order and Dale figured it was obvious enough as that was his job and he trudged out on his way and entered into the yard and saw them walking about on all fours, their tongues hanging from their eye sockets and grunting about as usual and their nimble little hands squishing in the mud all around them. It was funny because sometimes he liked to pretend they could talk and he wondered what it was they'd say... but that was nonsense since they were just animals and animals by nature weren't very good at storytelling or things of that sort, despite the number of tales of animals.
Their pen really was in awful condition he mused to himself and they needed new clothes as the ones that they had were in tatters and their ribs were showing plainly which made little sense as he was sure to feed them regularly.... well when he didn't end up sleeping in of course. He didn't mean to neglect them. They were fragile and needed tending to, what with their sensitivity to the changing seasons and temperatures and then their bird bones on top of that. Dragons weren't that different from people if you really payed attention and with that thought he began trotting back into his palace.
He swung the doors open and peered at the horse standing in his foyer, a frown falling over his face, "What's Griggorydrick doing back in the hall? Get him to the kitchen immediately! He shouldn't be slacking off like this!" he shouted, making perfect sense as of course that horse was the finest pastry chef in the kingdom. His puff pastries were sublime and he had to fight a gnome and a host of angels to get that horse in his castle and he intended to keep him. The foyer wasn't safe, after all as anyone could walk in at any moment and spirit that horse away and he'd be damned if he'd let that happen for he was Feddarris of Basket and he would not be slighted by anyone! No! His kingdom would continue it's grand existence for many years to come.
Dodger wasn't aware of the exact moment he became awake and rather his eyes slowly drifted open with a growing consciousness of the world around him and he had the vague feeling he'd had a dream that he couldn't quite remember and before he could say anything of it he realized the pain in his throat and he pulled out the medicine and took another swig of it for the new day.
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