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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 1, 2010 17:16:25 GMT -5
"Or something." Dodger muttered, "We should go further if-" in his attempts to stand, he slipped and fell back into the mud, forgetting to finish his sentence as he scraped himself to standing. He already wasn't feeling well and he had the dawning suspicion that the regular illness might have been one of his lesser problems as he was weakened from it and he didn't doubt the swamp had it's own fair share of natural ailments that would be swarming in his bones by now, waiting to assault him. His worsening cough might have been some fungus in his lungs or some disease in the scabbed pockmarks appearing in more frequency every day, or possibly from some biting insect- he didn't know but the likelihood of it was too high for him to feel any level of comfort.
He almost died of plague too, except among the people fleeing the diseased lands was a wordsmith, a lucky break for him but the smith seemed too intent to leave and he had no doubt it was because of their illegal status. An unregistered wordsmith was a very dangerous and wasteful thing. However, he was healed because of it and for that he couldn't be too angry... still, it pained him to think they couldn't have arrived in time to save Lander.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 1, 2010 23:47:11 GMT -5
The arrow took Lareg in the shoulder, but the man covered the distance between them quickly, intent on making that bow useless. His hands were those that could break a neck between them, and he slashed with his improvised spear as he came in, moving again to stab. However, the snake, still twisting around, unable to move from the root it was pinned to, was not yet dead, and it bit into Lareg's heel as he passed.
Another snake, it seemed was also not quite dead. Adra rose up out of the water behind Whitte like lightning, knife stabbing to sink into his thigh.
"Sit," Devshiva said in a no-nonsense tone. It did not seem like either of them were in any condition to be moving around. At any rate, if Whitte was in on this strange quest to 'save' him, they could not be too far. If Whitte ended up dying for him, it would be the most ridiculous thing to ever grace his eyes or reach his ears, not that he could see much right now. A person dying for a Border Guard, these were things of fireside tales. Yet Dodger's condition; he was sick somehow. Coughing was... a good sign, in a way. It was no absolute assurrance, but less immediately threatening than fevers or drainage. "Were you sick through the night?" he asked.
Dodger hopefully would eye the battle. Devshiva... he needed to cut it out.... that eye. Well, it was one less for people to see the Lady in. "Do you have a knife?" he addedin a low voice.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 2, 2010 0:04:43 GMT -5
"I lost it..." he replied, falling to the ground, his body grateful to Devshiva, "I dropped it into the swamp when you and your dartaves hung me upside down." he explained, "Blighting well it does uss, right?' he shook his head, looking towards the eye hanging from the man's socket. He was so pale and then the injury on top of it, "You look dead." he muttered. He'd honestly be able to say he'd seen corpses that looked more alive than that man, but then again those on the Eastern Island were very good to their dead and very good at keeping the bodies lifelike. It was a frightening thing to see, really.
He chuckled, he probably didn't look quite so lively either. Damn, this day was not going to be good if it was starting off as such a disaster.
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Post by Arual on Dec 2, 2010 9:37:53 GMT -5
The only good way he could miss the spear and back off from Adra would be another switch, and so he did. If his enemies weren't so deadly, he'd be able to take them without changing, but this isnt the case.Adra got his back leg, causing a roar to escape his muzzle. He bit the spear in hopes to snap it, and if he did, he tossed the side with the sharp end into the water.
It didn't go perfectly, but he'd live.....he'd live.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 2, 2010 14:09:20 GMT -5
Devshiva laughed shortly as if that was genuinely humorous comment. Without a knife... He was getting used to the pain, but the agony was too unrealistic to run about with, firing up every time the dislocated orb moved. It was dead already. He had heard of men nudging their eyes back in and even eventually regaining sight, but that was when the eye was uninjured. Lareg had not been gentle. Devshiva bent down over his legs until his face was almost touching them, his face in his hands. He breathed deeply through his nose and clenched his teeth shut.
Adra cursed as Lareg fell, grasping his ankle. A fight was no time to receive a whitemouth snake's bite. The blood racing, the poison whipping through vein with it. She fingered at the arrow sticking out of her hip, weighing her chances, and decided it was done. What did it matter? The bard with the clever mouth had captured Devshiva, who would indubitably receive his own bloody fate, considering how vengeful this Drylanders were. With Lareg poisoned, they would not be able to win.
She left, disappearing into the reeds and flitting away like a ghost through them, expecting Lareg to do the same if he could. There was no way to help him right now.
Lareg glared up at Whitte, face twisted in hatred and contempt. He slashed at him ineffectively with the half of the broken reed, splashing noisily down.
Twining his fingers around the gory strings until they were tangled tightly, as fast as he could, Devshiva locked his hands in his knees and sat up with all of the force he could muster. The sound he made was several kinds of extremely unpleasant, and lasted a good ten seconds as he curled up again, but he finally fell back with an empty socket (pooling red like a small spring and trickling down his face) and an eye in his hand. Panting, he was clawing for consciousness again. But it was done.
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Post by Arual on Dec 2, 2010 14:56:05 GMT -5
Whitte only pulled his head back when he was slashed at, and saw Lareg out cold now. The young man changed back, dark eyes in disgust for what he had to do, not a violent person until there's just no other choice, and his skin back to its normal light tan color. He was bleeding in the back of his leg, but even though he favored it, he quickly made his way over to Deshiva, collecting his attainable arrows from the fight along the way. The Border Guard's act and gore wasn't unnoticed by the younger man.
"I'm sorry you had to see that, Dodger." Whitte winced as he wrapped up his leg with a piece of his shirt. "We need to get out of here before anyone else comes to check up on the ruckus." His voice was in half disgust- mostly because of the battle itself and the people in it, the other some pain. It seemed, though, that despite it, Whitte was more concerned with the other two with him than himself.
He picked up Deshiva and slung him over his back after wrapping his eye with another strip of his shirt with hopes to stop the bleeding. The man was heavier than he considered, but he wouldn't let him die. The blood loss enough would do it. "And for future reference, I dont intend on hurting you. So if you were worried about that, you can relax."
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 2, 2010 15:14:45 GMT -5
(Clever bard? D'aaawe...)
Dodger sat there, looking at the crazed, one-eyed man for a few moments, "You're not going to-" and then when the shifter... the unlicensed, unpurposed shifter entered the clearing and scooped up Devshiva he seemed to forget anyone had said anything and for a few silent seconds he seemed to wait for someone to come by and start carrying him as well. Of course that didn't come and slowly, ever so slowly he began the arduous task of following after the two the more distance covered from that place the better he was beginning to feel but of course the sourness clung in his flesh and lungs and likely would for an hour or so. "Do we even know where we're going?" he asked, "Because if I recall correctly- you were just as lost as I when we were arranged to meet. It would be best if Devshiva pointed out the way if he's feeling well enough."
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Post by Arual on Dec 2, 2010 15:24:53 GMT -5
"I am lost, but now only partially." he answered back. "I can hear a lot better than most people, because of my ability to change into a wolf. Perks like heightened eyesight and hearing come with the change, but I don't like to show it off. Anyhow, I can tell which direction the other two guards ran. If there is more sound from the creatures in the area, I know that there's as less likelier chance we'll run into Rid or Adra, because any animal would fall silent if their peace was disturbed." He took a breath, lugging the third border guard on his shoulders as best he could. "For now, I'm going on my senses until we have more details. It'll help, but it's not perfect."
"If you're awake, you can correct me if I'm wrong, Deshiva." he said softly. "But I have a feeling that this isn't quite over between you, Lareg and the others here."
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 2, 2010 15:31:35 GMT -5
"You can't read the calls of birds? I'd think someone gifted enough to shift into an animal would have at least common traveller's knowledge of birds and realize that only when dealing with undue evils do animals opt for silence rather than a warning call." he muttered between heavy breaths as he pushed through the swamp after Whitte and Devshiva. Coughing. He coughed heartily then, stopping to avoid falling with his hands on his knees as he heaved in agony he hoped would deteriorate with distance and time like it always did. "Perhaps you should leave watch to someone who knows what might be best to try watching for?" he asked, "You focus on-" more coughing, "Taking care of Devshiva who needs your help."
Whether or not there was sarcasm there, one would be hard pressed to detect though Whitte seemed adamant to cement himself in Dodger's low regards. Fortunately the color seemed to be returning to Dodger's face though and the sweat on his brow was dissipating though perhaps only marred with the dirt and mud that was very present there.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 2, 2010 16:23:41 GMT -5
Admittedly he was out for a good minute or so. There was only so much a person could take in one go, and that with the shock of it was enough to send him down. But the black out receded again with the rough edge of Whitte's shoulder against the reeds of his clothing. There was the rhythmic shifting of walking--he was being carried. His one hand gripped at emptiness. The mask was gone. It disturbed him more than it should have. It was only porcelain, and they were in the swamps, unlikely to be seen. Perhaps it was the fact that no matter where he went, in perhaps three days, he would not be able to request another. His purpose in life had been neatly stolen by a man who could not wait for an excuse to murder.
It was rankling. Even so, his eyes... his eye, remained cold, murderous, his voice untouched by that anger yet. These two were objects of confusion more than anything else, and he could not lessen his anger by dispersing it among them. He had a vague impression they had been talking about birds, of all things. Drylanders.
"I can walk now," he noted for Whitte's benefit, getting himself down. His one eye focused on the man who was a wolf, appraising him sharply under slanted brows. "Dodger says that he did this out of conscience. Were you the same?"
The songbird was coughing still; it seemed worse now. It might be serious. The Tencough, even. Strange, anyway, for it to develop so quickly. He touched his face where a black fuzz blocked out the right side of his vision, a permanent one. Bandaged.
"I could bring you both back to the town. They may have some medicine there that could help you," he said, shifting his gaze to Dodger. A wolf and a songbird rescuing a killer. It was so ridiculous he could not even deny it, so he continued as if this was business as usual.
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Post by Arual on Dec 2, 2010 16:51:20 GMT -5
"If you want to, that's fine." the young man answered his Bard companion.
Whitte let the guard off him as he anxiously shifted himself halfway from the younger's grasp. "Yes and no." he returned, rolling his shoulder out. His leg throbbed where Adra stabbed him. "I don't know you or your customs, but I find it unbecoming to judge a person without knowing the facts first. It's one thing if you actually had murdered them, Deshiva, its another if you're innocent." He bandaged his leg again, making the knot tighter. He stood up again, ready to go to town.
"I figured you wouldn't mind my wrapping that up before it got infected."
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 2, 2010 23:34:42 GMT -5
It wasn't so much that he was worse, he was in fact feeling better but he was not exactly the model of restful recovery in this situation. He sort of wished they had a healer or something or some kind of medicine to soothe the pain in his throat that choked him when he spoke or breathed too laboriously. He'd have to try to be, gods forbid- quiet for more than a few hours to let his throat rest though he wasn't too skilled at such attempts. He wanted to have a talk with Whitte, which further complicated things if he had to keep quiet to get better- damaging his immaculate vocal chords would be awful, after all. Still, he wished to discuss his traveling companion's apparently not being a registered magic user- he didn't have any of the tattoos to indicate he was after all.
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Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Dec 2, 2010 23:50:20 GMT -5
Devshiva stared at them, considering, then seemed to decide on something. "Stay here," he said, moving off into the marsh back toward town. The two undoubtedly shared a few happily awkward moments together.
The town was still in mourning, so it was not hard to slip into a house and steal a mask and a cloak to hide his face and clothes. From that he was able to go past others, who were not looking and thus did little to notice. The bodies would be burned at sundown. Excuses were made to outweigh the grief of the widow of a Worker of Seals, a few lies told, and medicine procured. At the edge of town he returned the items he had taken.
Five minutes later he returned, offering a flask of something thick and dark in color. "She said a swallow a day," he informed Dodger. "You were going to the city to find a cure for a plague, but your healer is dead. You have earned me in his place today, if you want it. There are also several roads there that will lead you out of this country, should you desire it." This concerned both of them, and to both of them he spoke.
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Post by Arual on Dec 2, 2010 23:55:12 GMT -5
"Sounds good. How far is the next town?" He was weighing his options with the problem he was having with his leg. It it was too far, he was better off being a wolf, limping much easier in long distance than human means. His muscles in his leg were stiff, sore, and buckled together in pain.
It seemed this was the turning point for the three of them. Again, another new journey.
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Post by Señor Sunday Friday on Dec 3, 2010 0:25:48 GMT -5
Quietly he inspected the bottle before taking a quick swig of it in the manner of someone accustomed with the act of taking shots. There was a sort of wheezing that indicated that this tasted nothing like alcohol and he screwed his eyes shut "Gods, your pother must be trying really hard to either kill me or cure me." he squinted his eyes as he looked at the bottle, trying to see if there was something in there that would shout 'Hey! I'm going to totally eff you up!' but he didn't know enough about healers and pothers to know what exactly was in there. "Where do you think I'll find someone with a cure?" he asked, "Disease doesn't just leave." he muttered, his voice a slight rhasp from the damage he'd managed to inflict on himself and then he coughed once more.
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