|
Post by Oakrose & Crew on Sept 3, 2007 20:14:22 GMT
I'm confused. Why wouldn't we survive? *Oakrose asks as she walks to the place where Danniar is sleeping with Terragon.* I have most of the herbs and medicines I need in my habit... I'll probably need some hot water and a towel to clean thr wounds though. *She opens one side of the habit, revealing small vials, pouches and bags.*
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Sept 3, 2007 20:23:45 GMT
*For a very long time, Terragon says nothing. At one point, she even wonders if she is crying. I'm not, she decides.* Y'see... Terralux has been defeated before, nearly three years ago this summer. *Terragon gulps, a familiar, distant kind of feeling settling on her. Her gaze lingers out of the window until Danniar mutters something in her sleep.* A lot of Terraluxians were killed. Bracken, a hedgehog; Tinsy Stormsight, an old friend o' mine; Robin, Ashnel and myself made a decision that was harder to do than anything else... *She trails off, remembering something else. Oakbark.* ... anyway, we left with the intention of bringing back an army. Those were the days when Ashnel had a fair few contacts dotted around Mossflower. *Terragon stops, suddenly trying to think why she started telling Oakrose this.* But it won't happen again, *She reassures the other with as much of a smile as she can muster.* We're safe. Trust me.
|
|
|
Post by Engel on Sept 4, 2007 18:24:29 GMT
*Engel trails along behind Balder uncertainly as he makes his way toward the treehouses, hitching up the pack on her back. She still doesn't know what had happened -- only that he'd come back early to the infirmary from the tavern. She more than often found herself working in the infirmary after dark, as the lamps were better than in the grotto and Balder disdained sitting at the broad desk reserved for the resident healer. Balder usually came in just before bed, politely asked for the desk if he needed it for his work, perhaps conversed a little bit, and turned in. But tonight, he had stalked in all silent intent, barely glanced at her, and told her very simply to gather her weapons, pack her things, and come along.* . . . What? Balder- *She unsuccessfully tried to protest, only to meet a preoccupied mutter from the fox who was packing his satchel with startling speed.*
There's been a storm brewing, and it's close now, *He muttered, scrutinizing a bottle of distilled alcohol before pushing the cork in a little tighter and stowing it in the bag.* I'm putting you somewhere safe until this is over.
Balder, I'm not a child, *she protested, bucking her swordbelt on regardless.* Aren't you being just a bit paran-
Anna. *He interrupted sharply, turning to glare at her. Unconsciously, his paw tightened on the strap of the bag. For a long moment, it looked as if he were about to say something more, eyes narrowed in a rare expression of frustrated concern. Then he turned on his heel, walking for the door.* Follow me. We'll be lucky if the trail's not cold by now.*Balder sniffs at the rope ladder, whispers pursed, before nodding to himself and clambering up as quickly as he can. Arriving at the door, he knocks cautiously. Danniar needs to learn to cover her tracks better, he thinks to himself, glancing down at the drop of blood near his footpaws. Not much, but enough. More than enough to smell, though he might not have taken so much notice if he hadn't seen her staggering away just as he was arriving, or if the tavern courtyard hadn't faintly reeked of angry weasel. It's finally come to this, the back of his mind mutters to him. A vermin horde bearing down and everyone starts to look at the vermin a little oddly. At first it's just drunks in the tavern, of course, taking shots at the rat and the weasel. But how long until the sober ones start thinking the same way?* OOC: Balder is, in fact, occasionally paranoid. But I can't resist a good old-fashioned misinterpretation of the facts.
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Sept 4, 2007 20:07:00 GMT
*The fur of the back of Terragon's neck rises and her eyes widen as she hears the knock on the door. Hell Gates! If it's Tuscaro, then - Desperately, she looks around for a place to hide Danniar and gives up, hoping that, if it is the weasel, she'll somehow be able to... To do what, Terragon? the squirrel asks herself. Stand bravely in the doorway and fight to keep Tuscaro away from Danniar? You're not Ashnel. Think sensibly. Crossing the room, Terragon, feeling very much like a small child, calls out,* Who's there, please?
|
|
|
Post by Engel on Sept 4, 2007 20:56:54 GMT
It's Balder, *He replies lowly, glancing over his shoulder to see Engel gracelessly heaving herself onto the platform from the ladder. He offers her a paw, then leans back against the doorjamb, still speaking quietly.* Engel's with me. And I take it Miss Danniar's in there, unless someone else bled their way over here from the tavern.
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Sept 6, 2007 21:48:18 GMT
*Terragon opens the door at once, her rust-coloured fur not nearly red enough to disguise an embarassed blush.* I - sorry - I thought you - well, dangerous times and all that. Yes. *She mumbles to her footpaws.* Sorry. I did wonder whether Tuscaro might have found his way here, *Terragon tells Balder, looking him in the eye now.* But do come in. Danniar - like you said - is just over there. *Indicating behind her, she feels that she need not really say more.* OOC: 'll finish post in the morning.
|
|
|
Post by Oakrose & Crew on Sept 7, 2007 1:02:17 GMT
*Oakrose crosses the room to where Balder and Engel have just entered. She sticks out her hand.* Hello. I'm Oakrose. I'm a bit knew, but I'm a seer, and know healing. Balder, I've started heating some water (I assume there's a place to heat water) and am soaking rags in it. I'm pretty sure I should give her some strong whiskey with rosemary in it for the pain. At least, that's what we did in my village. Is there any whiskey in here, Terragon?
|
|
|
Post by Engel on Sept 7, 2007 5:55:34 GMT
*Balder nods briskly, striding inside with a preoccupied murmur.* Tuscaro? What's he have to do with all this?
*He puts his satchel aside, then undoes his belt and baldric, lowering the mass of straps, metal, and wood to the floorboards with a gentle 'clunk'. Thus unhindered, he moves to the side of the sleeping rat -- or means to. He's so intent in his work and set in his course of action that he nearly bumps into Oakrose. When he does properly look at her seems a little uncertain with what to do with a lady -- and indeed Oakrose is a lady, homespun dress or no, her breeding's clear as day in the way she moves -- presenting him with her paw. He finally does the only proper thing he can think of and takes her paw lightly, clawtips first, bowing until his eartips nearly touch it. The gesture is a little too old-fashioned to be completely normal, and he feels vaguely out-of-place giving it, but it's vastly preferable to taking her paw and pumping it like a couple of merchants sealing a deal.* A pleasure, and thank you.
*Straightening, he releases her paw and moves to the rat sleeping on the floor, crouching beside her and frowning quietly at the state of her face.* I'm not sure I'd give her very much alcohol - it'll flush her face and might start these wounds bleeding all over again. But the rosemary's a good idea, *He concedes, stark white tailtip flicking as it only does when he's thinking hard.* Rosemary and chamomile - stewed and strained in as little whiskey as possible, then sweetened well. I'll start on a poultice for that bruise, too, as soon as I make sure that cut in her ear stays closed. *He drags his satchel closer, digging for his kit, entirely intent on his job. Thank the merciful powers, we have another healer in our midst, he thinks with a certain amount of relief. We're going to need it soon enough.*
*Engel, meanwhile, is standing awkwardly just inside the door, pack still on her shoulders, watching the rest of the creatures inside with a little discomfort. Balder's back is to her, hackles raised in the tension so that she can clearly see the paler skin laid bare by each lash-scar buried in his silver-black fur. She can make out Danniar a little, and winces, averting her eyes out of some wholly useless sense of propriety as she puts her pack down and slips back out the door, closing it behind her. Dangerous times, Terragon said. Dangerous times. The stoat lowers herself to sit at the edge of the platform, looking out at the darkened woodland, half-thinking that she can probably at least keep watch.*
*For no reason she can really name, she finds herself thinking of her father. Don't get too full of yourself, Anina. And don't look down on those soldiers' sons either. Without the soldiers and the big fine castle and the lord himself, we're worthless. Hah -we're worse than worthless. Who ever fed themselves out in the cold world by reading? She smirks to herself, leaning her elbows on her knees, looking in the direction she knows the army to have gone. Not a leader or an officer, not a healer, not a craftsbeast of any sort . . . I suppose worse than useless just about covers it, da.*
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Sept 7, 2007 18:38:18 GMT
*Terragon watches Balder closely for a minute or so, few of his words making any kind of sense in her mind; and so, her attention wanders to Engel, and she wanders out onto the balcony. Yet it is a long while before the squirrel speaks. Even then, her voice is low, her eyes narrowed in curiosity.* May I ask how your paths manage to cross? Yours' and Balder's, I mean. *She adds.* I know you were a resident in his father's fort, but...? Sorry, *The squirrel murmurs suddenly, the apology unprovoked.* Worried about Danniar. *Terragon considers her other concern very carefully, feeling almost as though she is neglecting Danniar in doing so. But, gazing out over the woodlands and paths beyond the clearing, it cannot help but occur to a Terraluxian - and Terragon, after all, is the leader of Terralux - to ask themselves, Where's the battalion now?*
*Ashnel stares around, throwing the terrain a mutinous glare.* Where on the Guiding Star's earth are we? *He demands aloud. Regardless of the expressions of the creatures around him, Ashnel makes his way to the front of the collumn and halts in front of Stoakly. He addresses the other Captain quietly, but a note of rebellion sings out sullenly.* I suppose you do know where we're searching and have some sort of plan? *He can't surely just intend to send our warriors in with no word or battle tactic. In fact, as we're so heavily outnumbered from what I've heard, it'd be foolish to -*
|
|
|
Post by Engel on Sept 7, 2007 19:26:14 GMT
*Engel glances up -- she'd heard the pawsteps join her out on the balcony, and knew that the healers were likely busy with Danniar, so it's no surprise to her to see Terragon standing beside her, also looking out at the darkened woods.* It's alright, *She allows, shaking her head a little. She unfolds, leaning back on her palms, not voicing her own worry for Danniar. Better to seem collected, to maintain the well-deserved image that Balder knows what he's doing and can handle this easily. Better to calm them both by talking about things that don't really matter. Better she asks myself than him, at any rate.I'm not sure he'd divulge the past half so easily.* We met when we were children, actually. My father was the fort's bookkeeper and his letters teacher. *She chuckles, glancing back away.* I know -- a stoat, teaching letters. It's a little mad, but that's how it happened. After my father died, I became bookkeeper myself, so we still saw one another.
|
|
|
Post by Oakrose & Crew on Sept 7, 2007 21:02:56 GMT
*Oakrose blushes slightly, her reddish cheek fur turning crimson.* A pawshake would have been fine, Balder. Well, now that you mention it, she really shouldn't have too much alchohol. We need her to be sober when she awakens, to find out information. *Oakrose takes a huge kettle off the fire spit, then pours the steaming water into a wooden tub. She adds several rags to clean the wounds with. Reaching inside her cloak, she opens a vial of a clear-green liquid, then pours about half of it into the tub, stirring it with a ruler.* We can scrub her wounds with this mixture. It is a disinfectant from my colony. It works wonders! Well, I'll start boiling the 'potion'. *Oakrose laughs nervously as she takes a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. She adds a quarter-cup from a measuring vial, then adds some water from a bucket. Lastly, she adds a pinch of rosemary and a pinch of chamomile. It's just like with Virrax... only it was too late. This will help her sleep and take her away from the pain. Oakrose thinks.*
|
|
|
Post by Engel on Sept 7, 2007 23:09:55 GMT
Humor me. I like to pretend that I'm civilized sometimes, *he replies dryly, unpacking what seems like dozens of little packets and bags of herbs, all labeled in painstakingly small script on the paper or, in the case of the bags, a little wooden tag attached to the drawstrings. Comfrey, marigold, oak bark . . . what else . . . some fresh nettle. I can go out hunting for that when we're done. He reaches for one of the rags, wringing it out in a few quick motions to avoid burning his paws and casting his eyes back to Oakrose.* A disinfectant? Do you know what's in it? *He asks with an offhanded curiosity, when the rag is simply damp sitting beside Danniar's head and turning her face toward him with a surprisingly light paw, setting to cleaning the wounds as gently as he can manage. Every movement is wary -- this is usually the part that wakes someone up, and he's had more than one patient awaken and try to strike him before they were even conscious. Then again, a lot of his patients have been fighters, so that might have something to do with it.*
|
|
|
Post by Oakrose & Crew on Sept 7, 2007 23:52:10 GMT
Well, I'm not really sure, but it works on most everything. You see, the village healers gave it to me before I left. I have used it on cuts, scrapes, surgery cuts, wounds, even after a squirrel gave birth, I used to disinfect the birthing area. The village healers used it lots. I've used too, on my fiancee, but- *Oakrose cuts off, realising what she had just said. She let a tear fall into the bubbling mixture above the fire. You feel comfortable here. With another healer. It's okay to feel this way... Oakrose thought. She stirred the medicine, then poured it into a beaker to cool.* It's done, it just needs to cool down some. Or, we can give it to her now, before we clean her much more. Yes, that would probably be best. I'll rub her throat, you pour a cup into her mouth. Rubbing her throat with coax her into swallowing. *Oakrose advises.*
|
|
|
Post by Terragon Scrufftail on Sept 8, 2007 18:07:24 GMT
*Terragon inhales deeply before asking her next question.* But Balder, he was involved with vermin hordes, Ashnel said? Presumably you lost contact with him long before that? *Of course Engel wouldn't be involved! The leaderess tells herself at once, but then is reminded of something else Ashnel said. "Well, Terri... I s'ppose it does count as a Guild expedition, but it was for a good cause and did you ever know Anna Engeltrud was an archer?![/b][/i]" So maybe she has it in her as well.* You don't mind me asking-?
|
|
|
Post by Engel on Sept 8, 2007 18:43:37 GMT
*Engel blinks at Terragon curiously, trying to discern what she'd getting at, as well as how she's supposed to respond to that at all.* I . . . suppose. As long as you're not counting his father's forces as a horde, *She responds carefully, drawing her legs back under herself from where they'd been swinging off the edge of the balcony.* I lost touch with him when- *She hesitates, struck by a sudden indecision. Does he even want me telling her about this? Balder's always so silent about it . . . But it's Terragon. And he didn't do anything incriminating, not really.*
I'll tell you this in confidence, *She finally says quietly, expression utterly serious.* There was a surprise coup against his father, planned by one of the generals. They killed the Lord before Balder could react, but . . . while the guards were still holding off the mutineers, he evacuated a handful of beasts - mostly the ones he was certain would be killed if a new order arose. I was one of them. *She looks back out at the woodland.* I don't know for certain what happened after that -- it's all just the odd rumor and the scraps he'll tell me himself. But I think he managed to rally enough loyal beasts to fight back the usurpers. It all ended in a stalemate, though -- the General's beasts fled, but Balder didn't have nearly the numbers needed to man to fort against another attack. So he ordered it to be looted and burned, then exiled himself. *She swallows, looking down at her paws.* But I never knew he ran with hordes until he came back here with you, and I never ran with them myself. The most warlike thing I did before coming here was sniping at highwaymen with the guild. *She actually surprises herself a little by laughing quietly, suddenly remembering the traps they'd laid out for a few would-be attackers, and glances up at Terragon with a bit of a twinkle in her dark eyes.* I suppose there's nothing like being shot at while the terrible voice of Badrang the tyrant bellows down at you. *She pronounces, letting her voice drop into a convincing, throaty, masculine rumble, full of haughty anger and spite.*
|
|