WG - The Mystery of the Poisoned Healer Options

[mALX]

*

Eyja:

Eyja gripped Abiene's arm more tightly than she meant to; leaning close so her words wouldn't be overheard by Honditar.

"I don't know how it works; is the magicka stored in one big pot inside us, or...like in separate wells for each discipline? Because I know she has no magicka for healing in reserve, but her destruction is off the charts; you saw that spell she was able to cast! Can you imagine the magicka usage it must have cost? Have you tapped into it as well? Can it be converted to use for healing...or have you already used it all?"

Eyja felt stupid, out of her element when it came to these matters. She felt helpless in the face of what was happening with Maxical, and that feeling was as foreign and alien to her as...as how Seth made her feel protected and vulnerable. Seth.

"Seth may know some alchemical way beyond the average knowledge, something to help her. Will you ask him? I want to sit with Maxical."

Eyja released her arm, embarrassed; brushing it off. "Sorry, my nerves are stretched to their limits."


*

[Black Hand]

Sethyas overheard the emotional outpouring. He shook his head as he focused on his mental alchemist formulary.

"Technically, we don't 'have' magicka. We tap into the inherent magicka from Aetherius." Seth muttered going through his pack.

"Magicka is Creatia. Energy. All things in the Aurbis, Aetherius, and Oblivion are inherently the same thing." he said pulling out a few herbs and his mortar and pestle, adding them together into the ebon bowl, and crushing them together with the smooth handle, pausing to add some liquor.

He put the cork back on, only to look back at it and then pop it back off and took a deep swig and handed it off to Honditar. The Altmer followed suit.

Seth lit a hackle-lo, exhaling a thick plume of smoke and threw his lit twig into the pestle. It created a flash which produced a small cloud of pleasant smelling odor.

"All things are a compound, that can be broken down and combined into new forms. Much as the Aedra crafted this world, we lesser et'Ada can do the same." he said mixing the final batch, and passing the hackle-lo to Honditar. The golden-hued hunter also took a large toke.

"Okay, this concoction won't 'restore' her, but it should stabilize her long enough to either get her out of here and get to more proper surroundings for adequate care." Sethyas explained.

"Honditar, you're the expert for these surroundings and the forest. Please track down the horses if you can. Abiene, please assist me in administering this too Maxical. Your hands are far gentler than mine. Eyja, please hold this liquor and hackle-lo." Sethyas instructed gently.

"And as long as your holding them, perhaps you should finish them, the rest of us will be busy with other things and they'll spoil otherwise." He said softly, if soft were possible for a Dunmer's rasp.

[Grits]

Abiene watched and listened, all the while stroking Maxical’s hand. She was tempted to smack Eyja, risking a beating to spark the woman’s anger and clear her head. Seth provided a wiser solution when he handed off the liquor and hackle-lo.

“Whistle for Kip,” Abiene called to Honditar. “I doubt he’ll be far.” Jerric’s horse was strong and steady, but he tended toward indolence. Even the mountain exploding wouldn’t get him to run for long.

Seth’s quiet command calmed all of them and pulled them together as a unit. Abiene found her confidence returning along with a trickle of magicka. Her hands knew her work. She lifted Maxical’s head into her lap, gently positioning her so she wouldn’t choke on the potion.

Don’t forget your own treatment, she reminded herself. You’ve been poisoned and someone still wants you dead. Maybe. Returning to Chorrol meant descending into danger. Then Abiene remembered the two bodies nearby and almost laughed. I suppose events have changed my perspective.

[mALX]

*


Cloud Top:


http://up1.joystick.ru/i/0/5e7bbc2.jpg



Eyja:

Eyja downed a good-sized gulp of the liquor, glad for the strength it gave her. She held the hackle-lo awkwardly, not sure how to use it. The smoking end wafted a scent that reminded her of Seth. She tentatively put it in her mouth, then took it back out. Was he sucking on it? She tried again, this time sucking on the end in her mouth.

“HUACK! HUACK! KA KA KA!” Eyja doubled over, pointing at her back. Someone whacked it hard for her, but through her tearing bleary eyes she didn’t see who had done it.

She stubbed out the hackle-lo and took another gulp of the liquor, letting the warm liquid trickle down and sooth her throat after the hackle-lo.

Eyja pulled off her dirty cuirass and tossed it against the nearest pillar, tugging the undershirt below it loose from her skin. She lay down beside Maxical, gently petting the hair back from her face.

It had been a long time since Maxical had been this ill, years. Everything with her seemed to come around full circle, this was one she’d hoped never to see again.






*





Maxical:


The large soft mound cushioning her head felt like it moved. Maxical’s eyes opened to a distorted blur of pink.

“Am I in the dreamsleeve?” She reached up and touched the pink mounds. “No…just Eyja’s breasts.” She pushed feebly against them. “Get them out of my face, they’re taking all my air.”

“I smell Gils...I think I saw him, but...” She turned her head and saw it again, the blurred vision of gleaming black hair, so near it felt like she could touch it. But the face wasn’t Gils, unless...was that a tattoo one got after dying?

Maxical tried to sit up, but her stomach felt torn in two. The Dunmer helped someone lay her gently down. While he was leaned over her something about the tattoo struck a chord of memory. She gently traced the outline of the tattoo with one finger and it came back to her, the poem of Mephala from the Blasphemes. She whispered it aloud, looking into the Dunmer’s eyes.

“Mephala the Webspinner thrives; on murder, sex, and lies. Threading needles with the hair of wives; weaving plots from the Aedra with mortals' lives. You‘re Black Hand...for me?”

Her hand dropped down and caught his wrist. “Please, sit by me first with your brandy and hackle-lo. I just want to smell it one more time. My husband smelled the same.”

The condition she was in, if he was here to take her out she couldn’t fight it; just hoped he’d grant her that last wish; to smell the brandy and smoke filling her nostrils...so familiar. So long since she’d smelled the two together.

She closed her eyes, but clung to that wrist with what strength she could muster, breathing as deeply as her lungs would take in the aroma of brandy on his breath; of the faint aroma of hackle-lo that clung to the cloth in his armor.

Before the weakness took her over she pulled his hand to her, rubbing the back of his hand against her cheek to feel the tears there.

“Thank you.” She let go of his hand, unable to find the strength to hold it anymore.

Inside her stomach burned like an inferno raged, and worse than that was the incessant throbbing need for that cream, her whole body ached in need of it. Where was that man that had given it to her...



*





This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 3 2013, 09:01 AM

[Black Hand]

Sethyas could almost laugh at Eyja's reaction to the hackle-lo. It reminded him of his first attempt to try it in the cornerclub. The harshness of the smoke didn't compare to the Cyrod's tobacco, but it definitely had an edge that could catch the unwary off guard. The effects it used in alchemy, such as a restorative and even water-breathing weren't so strong as to make one a champion swimmer when used in that manner. However the 'paralysis' effect did join the restorative effect in a slight adjoiner. It seemed to 'force' the body and mind to slow down, ever so slightly, being one of the reasons he enjoyed it's use, other than the fact he could swear the plant was good luck. It helped to restore the equanimity of mind he needed to move through these phases of life.

He worked with Abiene whose concentration seemed to return, as she deftly attended to her patient. Maxical's pain must have been nigh unbearable, which was part of the concoction he'd made. Her lapsing in and out of consciousness came with odd perspective and half-remembrances even as Eyja joined her down by her side.

The root of the word 'compassion' was literally 'to suffer with'.

Maxical recited a line from the Acceptable Blasphemies, in tracing his tattoo. Rather astute considering her state. Then something about his particular scent when she clamped down on his wrist with her hand. Her husband smelled the same she said. Odd combination for anyone outside of Morrowind.

Had she been married to a Dunmer?

His black hand met her tears.

He glanced over at Eyja. Her face was something beyond simple concern. Perhaps this was why healers were expected to recuse themselves from patients they knew too well.

Maxical seemed to find the pain a bit more bearable. The excitement of the battle always seemed to make the world afterwards more colorful and vibrant. Each sensation weaving the fabric of experience.

Now was time for recovery; and while Maxical was certainly in a bad state, he had not forgotten that there were two victims here as he glanced up at Abiene. Though Maxical was certainly the worse for wear between the two of them.

So much intrigue and cruelty in one spot. He thought dolefully.

Honditar returned with the sounds of clopping hooves. He'd managed to find the horses, and now they'd need to get Maxical into a healer's abode or somesuch.

"Abiene, you're a healer of no small skill. What amenities do you have in this regard? A guild, a shop?" He inquired.

[Grits]

Abiene

Eyja cradled Maxical against her as Maxical returned to consciousness. Maxical whispered to Sethyas about her husband. Abiene looked away, Eyja’s heartache as hard to witness as Maxical’s pain.

If addiction could simply be cured there would be no remorseful addicts. A person’s mind could be their own enemy. Folk felt pain from phantom limbs though their sleeves had long been empty. Such conditions were out of Abiene’s reach, locked away behind the will of the afflicted. Maxical’s suffering felt like Abiene’s failure. There is so much to learn.

A black shape on the ground caught Abiene’s eye. Earana’s robe? How or why the Altmer managed to remove it was a mystery Abiene was willing to leave unsolved. She could wrap the body in the robe and drag it to the orc even without a strengthening spell. The high elf had towered over Abiene, but there hadn’t been much meat on her.

Not like the orc. She hoped he lay on ground suitable for burial. It would be a huge effort to move him. His name was Gaturn gro-Gonk, she remembered. Just last night she had cured him of fever.

It took a priest to fully invoke Arkay’s Blessing over the bodies, but as a layman Abiene knew some of the rituals that would protect them under Arkay’s Law. Enough so the bodies couldn’t be raised again, at least by a simple spell.

Before she could begin Honditar returned with the horses. Abiene breathed out that worry, grateful for the smallest relief.

“Abiene, you're a healer of no small skill,” said Sethyas. “What amenities do you have in this regard? A guild, a shop?”

Abiene felt her cheeks flush. She could fit her belongings in a small trunk, and her allies counted mostly among the poor and disaffected. The wealthy and powerful didn’t get that way by offering help to Khajiit addicts. Abiene’s influence only extended as far as favors for herself. She lacked the clout that would bring others to the aid of her friends.

“I’m afraid I have only a small sleeping cell at the Chapel of Stendarr. I’m a student at the healing hall there, in shaky standing it seems. I’m a member of the Mages Guild, but the Chorrol chapter head won’t allow non-members into the private chambers. I’d attempt a lie to get Maxical in but there was an incident yesterday. She’s known to them.”

Abiene glanced at Honditar. His house lay outside the city walls, but it was not hers to offer.

“I’ve rented a guest cottage in the park from Seed-Neeus. It’s more of a...” Lovers’ getaway “…one-room apartment than a cottage, but there’s a big bed and bath. Other than that there are the inns. I’m welcome at the beggars’ camp, but that’s no place to recover from addiction.” Too easy to get more skooma.

“I have an account with Seed-Neeus, and if the cottage is in use I have no problem encouraging the occupants to check out early. Peacefully, of course. And I’ll gladly swipe every ingredient we’d need from the guild and chapel shelves.”

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Aug 3 2013, 02:15 PM

[mALX]

*

Maxical:

It felt odd, waking up; wasn't she supposed to be dead? Instead she felt soft arms around her and something even softer...

"For the gods sake, Eyja! Get your breasts off me, do you want me to suffocate? Dear gods, are you crying?"

Eyja sat up quickly, brushing her cheeks off before taking Maxical's hand. "I'm not crying, just...got choked trying to smoke hackle-lo."

"Hackle-lo! No, it wasn't you..." Her eyes fell on the Dunmer. He hadn't killed her. She turned back to Eyja and tried to whisper.

"I think I wet my pants, Eyja."

Maxical tried to sit up and couldn't. Something about a Welkynd Stone exploding at her stomach when lightning hit it. Lightning. Earana.

"I want Earana buried proper, and a prayer said. I think she was my friend...can't remember. She was going to bring me to meet Casta..." She broke off, feeling the soft arm touching her again; but with some kind of healing.

"Is that Abiene? Abiene, are you here? My stomach hurts real bad...real bad."



*

[mALX]

*

Honditar:

Honditar stepped over to the group around Maxical. "My cabin is available for use. It's only one room, but I've extra bedrolls. If you think an inn would be better, I'll stand the cost to put her and Eyja up in a decent room; not the Gray Mare."




*

This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 3 2013, 03:54 PM

[Black Hand]

Sethyas was merely considering his options. Abiene was selfless to a fault, of that he was certain. She was also resourceless to a fault as well, unfortunately. He needed to keep the two of them within his care and protection until the matter was resolved.

He sorted through his pack and pulled out three different potions, handing them off to Honditar.

"We'll put them up in the Wobbly Goblet. These potions are rare and expensive,...but otherwise useless. See if you can pawn them off with the Mages Guild, or any apothecary would likely shell out high coin for them." He instructed.

They were just things he had made while playing around with new ingredients and the like. They were mostly 'fortify fatigue' effects, but had a variety of other non complementing effects. Apparently the Mages Guild and alchemists liked to use the highly refined potions for a base in their own studies and potions. He'd actually shown surprise when one alchemist had appraised one for well over two hundred drakes. She'd explained it too him when he was speechless, even one with a 'weakness to common disease' effect was still valuable in a mix that used a restorative with a quality that worked in the same way as a disease that a normal immune system greatly weakened the effects of. Usually used for autoimmune disorders, potions of that quality were evidently in great demand.

Maxical woke up again, becoming comically cranky. Then she held his countenance in her surprised gaze.

"I think I wet my pants, Eyja." She whispered burying herself into her friends bosom that had previously been a source of ire.

Eyja gave Sethyas a bemused look as he raised an eyebrow.

"It's all right. I'm used to it. I wasn't given this visage to inspire happy thoughts in others." he slightly joked. His muscles began to feel like they contracting on their own accord. The massive lightning attack, and the subsiding adrenaline were beginning to take their toll on him.

"Let's load up and get our charges to a safer location." He said aloud.

"I'll stay behind and take care of the bodies." He said, pulling out an Amulet of Arkay. "Don't worry Abiene, I'll not make a hypocrite of Earana." He could pass on a simple blessing, though he was no priest.

In his more macabre view, he saw that the death he granted was eternal rest. Best to see to it staying as such.

[mALX]

*

Maxical:

Maxical tried to catch the eye of the Dunmer. "Will your prayer keep her body from being...raised up? I...there are a lot of necromancers in this area, I don't want her used that way."

Another thought struck her. He'd said something about getting a room at an inn. Her eyes fell on the Altmer he was talking to, and she felt a terrible hungering inside for that cream. He had given her the cream, the kind Earana gave her. She waved her hand at the Altmer man, trying to get him to come closer.

"Oh, er...Honditar is it? If the cost is the same for a room with two beds, can you bespeak it? When I'm ill Eyja hugs all over me like she squeezed me out her loins herself while I'm trying to sleep."

She tried to catch his hand and pull him closer, but he hung back with an odd look as if he knew what was coming. Maxical felt frustrated, knowing if she whispered her voice would carry. Khajiit notoriously can't whisper quietly. She didn't even know why she didn't want the others to hear, but for some reason she didn't.

"Er...I'm thirsty, do you have anymore of that cream? I..." She broke off, the Altmer was already shaking his head. He pointed at the Dunmer.

"I gave it into his care."

Her eyes slid over to the tattooed Dunmer that smelled so much like Gils. By the look in his eyes, she was pretty sure he'd overheard.

There was a decisive strength in the denial in his eyes. Why? Did he not know Khajiit liked cream? She'd said nothing, but one eyebrow raised as if he'd heard her ask from the desperation inside her. It remained arced, as if prompting her to answer her own question. He knew. But was withholding this cream. Why?

For the first time it struck her, she'd never felt this way over cream before. She wanted it whenever she could get it, but this terrible need for it; this was...dear gods, had Earana put drugs in it? The Dunmer still held her eye, waiting for her to answer a question she'd never asked.

"My parents only gave cream as a rare treat. I always desired it, but there's something different now; isn't there? A desperate aching need for it inside me. Did Earana put drugs in the cream?"

His head gave a barely discernable nod.

"What drug? What would cause this terrible aching need?"

She had a sickening feeling she knew the answer. She had spent enough time at Castle Bravil, seen Gellius Terentius in the throws of desperation. Skooma. Earana had been dousing her cream with Skooma, but why? Why would she do that? She was her friend, wasn't she? Was she?

Maxical lay back against Abiene, tugging her arm. "Is it Skooma? You have to take this from me. Please? And keep me rallied so I have the will to fight it."



*




This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 3 2013, 10:18 PM

[Black Hand]

Sethyas considered her state. He didn't want too say anything one way or the other. Eyja knew her much better than he, and wanted to defer to her judgment. He also wanted to use her Willpower to her advantage. If he told her that there was no cure, she might believe that and follow through with it to the bitter end. If he told her that the potion that would remove it from her system would also cure her, she might believe that too and follow through in a similar fashion.

He didn't know how much Abiene or Eyja knew, but wanted to keep them in the dark for much the same reason. Lies of Omission, or even just lies, were okay by him if they served some higher purpose. Eyja might agree, but might find withholding it too painful. Abiene slept in the Stendarr Chapel, he assumed lying would be crossed out in her book.

But, a little pain, a little suffering would be necessary to trick the mind as well. Give it something to compare the simple monotony of simply not being addicted, too. He didn't relish the thought of pain or suffering, but even he knew there were varying levels of it. Compared to a shorter lifetime with rotting teeth falling out and patches of fur falling prey to a Khajiit form of mange...this was no more than a stubbed toe.

Then J'Dhannar curses you, and J'Dhannar curses this faithless mate. Ahnassi calls ME a coward and a fool... There IS no cure for the skooma addict! All the world knows this! No one knows J'Dhannar's shame better than J'Dhannar!...What can J'Dhannar do? Nothing. But beg and starve and cry and die....

The image of a might-as-well-be-dead J'Dhannar and his hopeless, slitted eyes and all those symptoms he thought of still haunted him to this day, nearly two centuries later. The change he made in a fortnight of study with the book and the choice to walk away from it all always reminded him of the potent; nearly divine power of choice.

J'Dhannar is sorry for what he says. You... return to Ahnassi and tell her, J'Dhannar is sorry, and J'Dhannar forgives her, and J'Dhannar will always have Ahnassi in his heart, but our bond is broken now, for better or worse, and we must each find our own way from this cold time and hard place....

"I can treat this. Be assured. It will take some time however. Leave with her now, and I will tend to the bodies. No necromancer will ever use these bodies for their dark art." Sethyas spoke, and turned to tend to the tasks.

[Grits]

Abiene

Maxical lay back against Abiene, tugging her arm. “Is it Skooma? You have to take this from me. Please? And keep me rallied so I have the will to fight it.”

Abiene started to answer but then stilled her tongue. She feared doing the wrong thing while trying to help would only substitute one dependence for another. Her eyes went to Sethyas for guidance.

The Dunmer stood in thought for a moment. His face betrayed nothing.

Then he spoke. “I can treat this. Be assured. It will take some time however. Leave with her now, and I will tend to the bodies. No necromancer will ever use these bodies for their dark art.”

Abiene curled over to kiss Maxical on the forehead. Then she carefully stood. “I’ll get Earnana’s things,” she said, putting her words to action. “There may be something we can use.” She slung the packs to the ground beside Eyja and then went to Kip. A rummage through the saddlebags produced an old half-empty waterskin. Oh please, let it be magicka potion. She raised it to her mouth and took a quick swallow, wincing in anticipation.

Magicka surged through her in a warm rush while she gagged on the rancid mushroom bits. Jerric’s potions were simple but potent, if you could get them down. Abiene coughed again and spit out some flax seed hulls.

She spoke under Kip’s neck as she moved over him, checking for injury. “Eyja, may I heal your burns? What about you, Honditar? Are you injured?” She knew Seth must have suffered some damage in the fight, but he was surely supplied with potions. Besides, her earlier offer still stood. She doubted he was one to forget, nor to hold back if the situation required it.

Back to the Wobbly Goblet, she thought. I may never drink their tea again, but Dibella knows I could use a bath.

.

This post has been edited by Grits: Aug 3 2013, 11:11 PM

[mALX]

*

Honditar:

Honditar felt the relief of being able to pass that burden of denial onto Sethyas. He knew the desperate appeal in those eyes would be too much to bear; he'd end giving the girl the drugs and be no better than Earana.

He turned to Sethyas with the gratitude in his eyes.

"The girls can't travel these woods unescorted. I can help with the burial now; return straightaway, or send someone from the inn to help. It'll take more than one to get that Orc covered up.”

He glanced over the three horses he'd been able to re-catch. Abiene's big calm horse, the skittish stud and mare from the Wobbly.

“We’re short one horse. I'd say that one you were riding headed back to the stable, his trail led in that direction. Take that black stud I rode, he’s good to go. The girl there will need to be carried; she'll not be able to sit up for the ride down with that wound on her stomach. I can get mounted, if you’ll bring her to me and hand her up.”

He turned back to Abiene and Eyja.

“I'll need your horse, if you'll permit it, Abiene. You’re not strong enough to carry the girl, and he’s the only one of the three calm enough to ride her down. That mare might buck at a leaf blowing across the road. You two will have to ride together on the mare, leave the stud here for Sethyas.”

He paused, realizing he hadn’t made a good recommendation of riding the mare if Abiene wasn’t much of a horsewoman.

“Eyja can handle her, if you’re worried. You'll need to stay close, heal Maxical on the way down as needed."


*


Maxical:

Maxical patted Abiene’s arm when she kissed her, then suddenly was struck by a thought.

“Hey, wait a minute. Did you say the Wobbly Inn? Some sleazy man there tried to have his way with Abiene by drugging her morning tea! We’ll have to keep our eyes out for her, in case he is still there...er...lusting for her.”


*


Eyja:

Eyja caught Seth's eye with a twinkle of amusement in her own. If he hadn't believed her on the naivety of Maxical when it came to these things, he'd realize soon that she'd not exaggerated.

"Casta Scribonia romance novels." She whispered quietly with a grin at Seth.

"I heard that!" Maxical called. "Hey, I don't want to wear this black robe in a public inn, and I've wet it. Eyja, will you change my clothes before we go?"





*





This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 4 2013, 12:56 AM

[Black Hand]

Sethyas nodded. He didn't wish to leave any unattended, but as he'd mentioned to Eyja in their first meeting disposing of the deceased was something he'd done all the way from Morrowind to here. To lift the Orc, all he really needed was some of the Sujamma he'd brought. Made you as strong as it made you dumb, and he needed a stiff drink right about now.

"I said I could handle these arrangements, Honditar. I wouldn't offer if it were out my league. However, I thank you all the same." He said with cordiality but with a subtext that screamed I need to be alone for now! at the same time.

"Take anything you need from my pack. I have potions, weapons, scrolls. They should be marked clearly enough: I use Aldmeris, not Dunmeris." He offered as he grabbed a hatchet-like tool and another bottle of liquor, pausing as he considered and took out a restorative as well. His head was starting to pound from that lightning.

He imbibed the restorative and let the effects subside the others. His eyes didn't hurt as much now and the pounding was finally gone.

He drank the Sujamma, letting the slow burn give a different kind of pain, and set about to his task, grabbing the Orc first and dragging him by his legs up behind the pillars, and then Earana.

He grasped the Amulet of Arkay, and went about muttering the incantations he'd known since a child.

When he was finished, he took to the ground with his modified axe, and quickly as he could started to dig two graves.

This post has been edited by Black Hand: Aug 4 2013, 01:37 AM

[mALX]

*

Eyja:


"Hush, Maxical. You're giving Seth the headache."

Eyja bent over Maxical, carefully untying the robe so not to cause any pain to the horrible burned wound on her stomach. It looked like an explosion had taken place there.

She left the robe under Maxical, taking her own water cask and cleansing her carefully off. Eyja glanced up at Abliene.

"She'll need something loose to wear back, I don't thing anything should rub that wound. Do you have anything? If not, will you see if Honditar does?"



*


Honditar:

Honditar recognized the signs of a man needing time to himself, he became the same bearish way when he'd had enough. He took the cue from Seth's mood to get the girls moving faster and quieter.

At Eyja's question he was already pulling one of his longish nightshirts from his pack. The girl would swim in it, as tiny a thing as she was; but it wouldn't harasss that wound.



*







This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 4 2013, 02:11 AM

[Grits]

Drugging me to get under my skirt? Abiene smiled at Maxical’s notion. It was good to hear her voice again.

Seth got to work. Abiene held the horses while Eyja prepared Maxical. Honditar and Maxical got situated on Kip. The big gelding stood unperturbed. Abiene breathed a prayer for their safety, not the least of which for the horse.

Abiene glanced at Eyja’s prodigious bosom and then straight down past her own to her feet. “I’m not worried about staying on this mare, but maybe I should ride behind you just the same.”

[mALX]

*

Maxical:


Maxical tugged uncomfortably against the heavy thickness of Honditar's shirt. Her legs felt bare without greaves or covering of some sort.

When Honditar was mounted, the Dunmer man...Seth, Eyja had called him; stopped his attacks on the ground with that hatchet and walked slowly over.

He'd never cursed while he dug, but Maxical had felt them emanating from him. Eyja said she'd given him the headache, but Maxical sensed it went beyond her mouth running to something much deeper.

Seth's mood was a Dunmer trait. They kept everything inside, and through the years the pain and death they lived through showed through the surface in these bearish moments. He needed time to face this alone, like Gils used to when something really harsh overwhelmed him.

When Seth carried her over to Abiene's horse to lift her up to Honditar she buried her nose in the cloth drape of his armor and breathed in deeply, once again savoring the combination of ingrained smoke and his breath; the brandy so heavily laced now that she could almost close her eyes and believe Gils was there filling her nostrils with those scents that brought him back to life for her in a way nothing else could. Dear gods she missed him.

It wasn't fair that a stranger could smell so much like him to evoke his memory so strongly. It taunted her with weakness, something she couldn't afford to feel; but didn't have the strength to stop breathing it in. Gils.

It was a relief when he handed her off to Honditar, whose manly sweat, dirt and leather scents brought no painful memories to dwell on.

Honditar moved Abiene's horse with slow care down the slope, keeping an occasional eye on the mare behind him to ensure they didn't get too far back. More than that he kept his eyes on the road ahead and to the sides of the path for enemies. Maxical watched his eyes, his focus and attention. He really would be good for Eyja if she would ever settle down.

At several points Honditar stopped the horse to let Abiene heal her, and it was a relief each time. The pain in her stomach was radiating through her with each step the big horse took.



*





This post has been edited by mALX: Aug 4 2013, 06:35 AM

[Grits]

Abiene

The priory bells rang out as Honditar and Eyja guided the horses into the yard at the Wobbly Goblet. Abiene stayed behind to groom Kip and settle matters with Lowren while the others whisked Maxical into the inn.

Before she followed, Abiene stood for a moment looking up at the darkening sky. Exhaustion made her want to sink down into the primroses and sleep until the snows fell.

Hethilion was waiting for her inside the tavern. He led her up to the second floor and into a small guest room. To her surprise he opened another door within it. “Through here, miss.”

Abiene followed him into a well-appointed two-level apartment. There’s even a kitchen, she thought, amazed. Who would have known all this was behind one of those doors?

Hethilion spoke in a murmur. “Will you have a meal?”

The others must be asleep upstairs, Abiene realized. “No thank you, but I would like a bath in the lower chamber. I’ll sleep there tonight. I don’t want to disturb my friends.”

Hethilion nodded on his way back out.

Abiene found a windowed sleeping alcove and a larger bed chamber on the upper level. Maxical lay on the big bed cradled in Eyja’s arms. They both were asleep.

Years of sneaking out to meet inappropriate boyfriends had given Abiene the silent feet of a night thief. She drifted to Maxical’s side of the bed. A touch confirmed her fears.

Why does that wound keep opening? She cast the healing spell with the care she used at the bedsides of critical patients. No sound or light disturbed the chamber’s peace, but the skin knit together again across Maxical’s belly.

Abiene remembered the Welkynd stone explosion. Perhaps shards had been driven into Maxical’s flesh and been made undetectable by either Maxical’s magical disorder or the nature of the Welkynd stone itself. She would look again in the morning. For now they all needed sleep.

On the way back down to her room she realized that Honditar wasn’t there anymore. Perhaps he went out this back door. She tried the knob to make sure it was locked.

Back in the small chamber Abiene stripped out of her filthy clothes, stuffed them into the inn’s laundry bag, and hung it out on the door knob. The inn’s staff would know what to do. She retrieved the necessities from her pack and slipped into the steaming water.

Bathe first, then relax. She had dry blood in her ears from gro-Gonk’s punch, but most of the day’s filth had landed on her clothing. Abiene scrubbed away the sweat, rinsed her hair, and lay back against the tub’s high edge. Don’t fall asleep.

She woke some time later in the cold tub. Her hair was still damp but no longer dripping.

Jerric’s Weatherward ring kept her from shivering, but she hurried just the same. Wet towels onto the rack, nightie over her head, feet under the bedcovers. She was asleep again before her cheek hit the pillow.

[Black Hand]

Earth met hatchet and was thrown out to the pile alongside the graves. The sujamma and remnant energies were being redirected into this task. Ninety percent of Master Goren Andarys defensive philosophy was about redirection.

The heart beats. It knows no direction. It merely goes on, in unending rhythm. The veins and arteries guide and redirect this force, bringing life to every extremity. This is the essence of Redirection. It takes more effort and power to meet a force head on, why do this? I carry no shield that can be seen, my knowledge; my mind is my shield. I let my opponent move as they wish. Then I move them as I wish.

He grabbed the greatly damaged body of the Orc, and carefully laid it out into the grave. To him, he returned his weapon, gave some coins and alcohol, and repeated Arkay's Blessing once more.

He took Earana's corpse and laid her out carefully. To her he gave a potion of magicka, some coin and alcohol, and repeated Arkay's Blessing once more.

Go now. If you return as vengeful spirits, your unsavory actions brought this upon you. See the truth in this, and seek redemption. Not the unending cycle of vengeance. He thought prayed over them.

He filled and covered them as best he could, trying to make them look part of the natural surroundings rather than freshly dug graves.

I am finished. Now, can I take a damn bath, Mephala? Or is there more intrigue you have set aside for me? He thought crossly, yet in jest.

He returned to the Wobbly Goblet in shorter time than one would expect for a mer on foot. But he'd walked all the way from Morrowind here, and to most places in his years. He was more than just a little used too it.

The evening had come, and the drinking revelers brought their end of the day relief with them, in spite of the bustling crowd he still managed to get a bath brought into his room. While he waited he silently checked in on his new companions, preferring to observe than to engage at that moment in time.

Besides, he was sweaty and smelly from his laborious efforts, even he was offending himself with his scent.

Finally, he checked and rechecked everything in his room. The hairs he'd placed on the windows with a bit of saliva were still there, the thin layer of saltrice flour, which was more grey than white and nearly invisible on these hardwood floors showed no signs of disturbance or tracks other than his.

He took off the armor piece by piece, laying it neatly next to the dresser and laid out his weapons in similar fashion, keeping his silver dagger with him as he did at all times. He let himself surrender to the warmth of the bath, which he'd added some salts and herbs too, and let it go to work on his strained muscles.

He extended his senses listening to anything and everything in the Inn. Sipping slowly on a flask of flin, even in rest he continued his vigil.

Finally clean and relaxed, he dressed for bed but went to his alchemy station and prepared a concoction for Maxical's skooma addiction. He re-read his own notes on the subject as well as some studies he'd acquired over the years from mages and healers who 'lowered' themselves to working with the afflicted.

He'd tried moon sugar himself, but not in the conventional sense. It had it's use in alchemical preparations such as 'fortify speed' and 'dispel'. It was also quite illegal, especially in Morrowind. Out here, the Cyrod's seemed to be a bit more lax on it, if a little more open to alternate forms of trade. He believed the Dunmer simply refused it on the basis that it was a 'Khajiit' drug and were notoriously racist. That didn't mean Morrowind didn't have it's fair share of addicts as well. They were known as having a 'sweet tooth'.

Skooma was the more powerful narcotic, still derived from moon sugar and it was powerfully intoxicating. Divayth Fyr; the ancient Telvanni wizard was also a casual user. It was in fact he who had taught him how to create the separator philter. Apparently derived from his work with attempting to cure corpus disease, he tested it extensively on addicts who were desperate for the 'cure'. Initially the brew was a little too powerful, resulting in the addicts actually dying from the stress of extreme withdrawal.

He'd cut it back quite a few notches, and started to see some progress. When that progress halted, he'd lost interest and moved onto another avenue of treatment, abandoning the libation altogether. Not without using it on himself after the occasional skooma use however, which helped to prevent a physical addiction in the first place.

Since then, Sethyas had made a few of his own adjustments to the remedy. Notably adding simple tannins from trama root tea that reduced the stress hormones in the bloodstream helping to induce a sense of general wellbeing in to the imbiber. He in fact instructed that it was best taken with dark teas over a short period of time.

Maxical was doubtless suffering, and he finished the potion with a sense of relief himself. He scribed it's direction for use on a loose parchment, and folded it neatly, wrapping it together with the vial that housed the 'cure', and left his room to deliver it too Eyja.

[mALX]

*

Eyja slipped out of bed so not to disturb Maxical, and tiptoed down the steps when she saw Abiene sleeping in the bedroom at the far end of the suite. She rifled through the kitchen and had eaten more than she'd intended to when she heard the knock on the connecting door to the room. She hurried to answer, glad to see Seth had made it back.

"We left a horse for you, but while we were unsaddling it showed up riderless." She stepped back and invited him in, leading the way to the suite. "Are you hungry? There is a full kitchen in this suite."