Elendor
Spearing Orcs
Hakr finds himself spearing more than fish one evening.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Beorning Village
Description: Beginning of the log missing.. Hakr is fighting an orc.
‹Mobeorn› More footsteps. Pad pad -pause-. Pad pad pad pad -pause.- They seem to be coming closer, and in the darkness that now shrouds the trees along the bank, two blood-red eyes stare out, blinking. Or maybe it's just a leaf fluttering down. A sound like harsh breathing whistles in the trees...or is it the wind?
‹Hakr› The hackles on the back of his neck begin to rise now. He told Mobeorn he wasn't afraid of any goblin, and he's telling himself now that he's not. It's the damned... Eeriness. The wind is playing havoc with his imagination, making him feel things that aren't there. All the same, he'll lift the spear out and set it on the ground nearby, attacking the driftwood with renewed vigour.
‹Mobeorn› Whoosh...sploosh.... The wind whistles right by Hakr's face, and something splashes into the river. The wind, in this case, mysteriously sounds like a bow string being loosed and an arrow in flight. How odd.
‹Hakr› Looking like a paranoid fool hardly matters if no one is around to see it. The rush of air, the splash - a hand grabs the spear and Hakr is up and turned, looking at the undergrowth. He can feel his heart pounding harder in his chest, and the twitches of adrenaline are starting to come now. Is it fear? Excitement? (more)
‹Hakr› Fleeing would be impossible now - there's only the river, and the current is strong. Weapon readied, the fisherman will swallow hard and take a few steps towards the woodline. There's no time to be afraid now - push it out.
‹Mobeorn› A bowstring twangs loudly. How could this archer miss from this distance, the target right in front of him? A black-fletched orc arrow flies from the forest, though the archer is still hidden in the trees and there are branches that hang in the way and could obstruct the course of the arrow. One arrow, then another is in the air right away. A cackle sounds from the forest. This is no squirrel.
‹Hakr› Seeing the first arrow shoot by, inches from his head, is enough to get the fisherman running towards the treeline with a renewed fervour. If he can just make it to the trees, maybe the archer won't be able to get a clear line... The orc is quick on the reload, though, and Hakr only sees the arrow moments before he feels it. (more)
‹Hakr› Searing pain lances through his shoulder as something wicked and fast digs in. The momentum of the arrow, combined with Hakr's sprint twists him and forces a yell of pain. Then he's in the trees, looking for the enemy, adrenaline and anger driving him on.
‹Mobeorn› "Meat!! Meat!! Fresh meat tonight!" an orc voice cackles. The goblin-small and dark and vile--looses another two arrows before the man is upon him, running into the woods. And then it throws its bow to the side, drawing a foul-looking scimitar and rushing forward to meet Hakr's charge, heedless of its own safety.
‹Hakr› The man barely even feels the first arrow as it glides by, clipping his side. Its partner finds purchase in his right side, but the creature won't have an easy kill this time. Common sense tells Hakr that his spear's reach should give him a hand, and with as fierce a battlecry as he can muster, he'll drive the polearm forwards at the creature. It's no salmon, but if it can breathe, it can die.
‹Mobeorn› The slicing, deadly blade cuts through the air, flashing with the last of the setting sun, its sharp edge aimed to cleave the man in half. But..what's this...with a howl of pain and frustration, the orc falls backwards, the polearm spearing into its middle. Armor does the creature wear, but the shock knocks its breath out. (more)
‹Mobeorn› The orc falls to the forest floor, but not before it slices the blade sideways to try to cut the man's feet out from under him. Literally.
‹Hakr› A cry of triumph as the spear goes in is quickly replaced by a yell of pain as the fisherman's armourless shin is sliced open. The attack drops him to one knee, but he's trying to force his weight onto the spear, twisting and pulling it. With his good foot, the man will try to stomp down hard on the orc's throat, the pain seeping past the battle rush now as blood drips out more and more.
‹Mobeorn› "Auuuughhhhhhhh!!!" The orc's arms and legs flail wildly about as, scmitar still in hand, he tryies to get the man's foot off his throat. His voice gurgles something terribly--his feet shooting up to try for a cheap shot to the fisherman's groni.
‹Hakr› Leave it to an orc to fight dirty. It won't be the groin that gets hit, thankfully - fortune may be nudging the fisherman today. The first kick misses, the concern of another is enough to get him to twist his body out of the way. The foot comes off the orc's throat as Hakr moves to distance himself from the flailing appendages, trying to pull the spear out enough to be able to drive it in again
‹Mobeorn› As soon as the boot comes off his throat, the orc springs to his feet, scimitar slashing through the air, aiming for Hakr's arms or legs--anything at all. The beast tries to attack--to kill the man--before he can get the spear free. "Foul thing!! Stay still! I want meat!!!" it hisses.
‹Hakr› "Just... Die, beast!!" Hakr feels the rush of air from the desparate swings, the orc trying to gut him. For the most part, the length of the spear is what saves him, but not from one lucky cut across his chest, cutting through the layers of clothing and making a red line of blood. In a howl of pain and frustration, the man pulls back fiercely on the polearm, twisting as he does so.
‹Mobeorn› Without hesitation, the orc jumps in, closing the distance between him and the man so that the spear's length offers no advantage--trying to get there before the man can strike. Scimitar blade slashes down--might as well disembowel his prey while he is at it. Does the orce make it?
‹Hakr› Seeing the goblin spring, Hakr opts for an all out charge instead of a thrust. He can't use the momentum of the spear, but he's willing to use the momentum of his body, spring forth in a vicious counterattack, heedless of the swinging blade. Vision blurring now, the steel arcs into view, cutting into his already damaged shoulder where it sticks fast. It's a gamble - will he repay the damage?
‹Mobeorn› The spear meets orc body with a sickening sort of thud, and for a moment the beast looks horrified. Then it laughs, its mouth opening to reveal foul-smelling breath and rotted teeth. "Mine!! the orc hisses, trying to yank its blade free. But the movement makes it howl in pain, so that its attack is cut short for just an instant--an opening for Hakr, if he can manage it while the blade is dug in.
‹Hakr› The orc pauses and, grimacing to blot out the pain, Hakr will grit his teeth and put his strength into another press forwards, twisting the spear and trying to shove the thing into the nearest tree, even going so far as to press his damaged shoulder into the attack, trying to wrench the weapon inwards and up as he goes.
‹Mobeorn› There's a great gurgling noise, a startled look on the orc's filthy face, and then blood spews from its mouth as it is skewered on the fisherman's spear. It is dead. Quite certainly dead, though it looks surprised at this outcome, even in death.
‹Hakr› "...Mine..." It takes a moment for Hakr to realize that he's killed his first orc, and pulling the weapon out is becoming very hard with leaden arms. Blood loss is blurring his vision as well, and as he picks his way back to his boat, leaning heavily on his spear for support, he realizes that it will likely be a futile gesture. It's dark now, and the river is swift. (More)
‹Hakr› Navigating the boat back now will be impossible. There's some pride in the fact that he wasn't afraid - he was true to what he said. It's likely that he won't get to boast now, though. What a pity. There's not strength enough to push the heavy boat back into the water anyhow, so the fisherman will sit - more of a slow fall, really - leaning against it and pulling the brim of his hat down.
‹Mobeorn› Footsteps again sound on the bank behind the man, but this time they are not stealthy. Still, they are coming from the woods, loud and plodding.
[Hakr(#3217)] The sound seems so... Far away at this point. Hakr is finding it hard to stay awake, to even move. If this is another orc come to finish him, there's no way he'll be able to fight it. He can't even see the treeline when he raises his head to look. It was always a possibility, though. At least this time, if an orc comes to kill him, he won't feel it, as darkness overtakes his vision and he slips into unconsciousness with a barely audible murmur of some sort.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The thing that emerges from the forest is big and brown. Very big. Very brown. And very bear. Brown eyes stare for a moment as the bear pauses before Hakr, then it growls and heads toward him, looking to topple the man over its shoulder. And if it succeeds, to swim the man across the river to the village.
Infirmary
The dark of night is held at bay in this room by two small lamps carefully set upon a long table that extends along the far wall and the flickering light of the fire in a small hearth in the far right corner. The dark of night turns the large windows on either side of the door into ebon mirrors, reflecting the light sources back into the room. Along either side of one entering the room are rows of cots, some apparently occupied, judging from the shapes covered in warm blankets.
Cecilia is on the evening shift, her time almost up until her brother comes to relieve her. No one is particularly happy with the situation, but both siblings agree it's better than angering Mogel further or having their father cover the night shift. Elaos has been busy taking care of his friend lately.
The healer is sitting in the empty infirmary up to her usual time-killer, embroidery. She's methodically stitching a quilt, something she's just begun working on.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The peace and boredom of the night is broken as Mobeorn pulls the door open. Somewhere between river and village he has changed back into human form, though his tunic, trousers and hair stream with the river water. As does those of the man slumped over his shoulder, watery blood dripping from both of them, seemingly. "Help me."
Hakr is only dimly aware that he is not dead at this point - swimming in and out of the edges of consciousness at various points, it's like watching a dream, sometimes getting snatches of sound or dull feelings. He's not aware enough to do much more than occasionally grunt as flashes of pain come, his mind trying to shake off the cobwebs and part real from surreal.
Cecilia looks up when the door opens, and before Mobeorn asks for help she is beginning to rise, curiousity on her face. "What..?" She trails off almost immediately and rushes across the room. "What happened? Are you hurt? Who is this?" The girl that is normally so fussy about staying clean doesn't hesitate to reach in and offer a helping hand. "This cot.. the first one here.."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Found him on the other side of the river. Him and one dead orc, skewered to a tree with that spear of his," Mobeorn replies first as he walks over to the bed and puts Hakr on the bed the healer has indicated. "Me?" he then says, puzzled. "No, it's his blood. Hakr. The fisherman."
[Hakr(#3217)] The snatches of voices are something to grab onto, especially hearing the mention of his name. A hand twitches momentarily when he is placed on the bed, his mind rewinding and replaying the events that, at the time, seemed so slow. Was it really that quick? If he's not in the afterlife, where *is* he? At least it's warm.
"Hakr!" Cecilia looks positively aghast and rushes around to the opposite side of the bed. She begins looking him over, assessing his injuries with deep concern on her face. "The shelf to the left, there are stacks of clean towels.. and, I'll need the basin of water next to the hearth." She orders, not taking her eyes from the fisherman.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn doesn't have to be told twice. He moves with speed that might be surprising for such a tall man, finding towels and water, stacking it all on a table and chair next to the healer. "I'll need to cross the river again, maybe take a patrol across. Too damn close to the village."
[Hakr(#3217)] Things are coming flying back now - memories, sounds, and, of course, pain. Rather intense pain flashing up every time a muscle twitches. An eye flicks open momentarily, but everything's blurry and oddly bright. With a wince, he'll close it again, half hoping to slip back out of consciousness once more, if only to avoid the pain that comes with being awake. Attempts to talk, to tell Mobeorn about what happened, die in the man's throat, occasionally slipping out as groans, and eventually he'll give up for the time being and just try to lay still.
Cecilia snatches up a towel and presses it against the bleeding gash on Hakr's chest, holding it firmly for a moment. Then she looks up at the beijibar. "Hold this here.. I need to bind his leg and mix some herbs." She reaches for another towel, assuming Mobeorn will aid her for a few minutes until she gets things under control. Tightly she wraps it around his shin, tying it firmly. "Shhh, Hakr! Just lay still! You'll be fine.. I promise." Well, 'fine' is rather relative anyhow. The healer moves away to a counter to begin rifling through bottles, pulling out several and a jar full of some kind of ground herb.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Right," Mobeorn nods, putting his hand to the man's bleeding wound. "Do you want me to fetch your father? Elaos?"
"Umm.. no. Get my brother, Dagur. He is supposed to be here soon anyway. He might be preparing dinner, but I can fetch him something later if he hasn't had a chance to eat. I'm sure he's at our house." Cecilia returns to the bedside after a few moments. "Okay, you can move your hand. I have everything I need." She begins cleaning the gash on his chest and applies a stinging solution that feels cold, but after a few moments will numb the pain considerably. "Do you know what happened?"
Hakr is certainly trying not to make things harder for the healer, but when she places pressure on a wound, the pain flashes, causing a gasp of air and a groan of pain. When the beijabar takes over applying pressure to his chest, the man's eyes will snap open - they don't seem focused on anything in particular, just trying to distinguish blurry forms. Hakr may have occasionally injured himself before, but this level of pain is very new, and very real.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Easy, easy," Mobeorn says, easing up pressure just a bit as Hakr's eyes open. "You're safe, man. Did your part. The orc is dead. Just...rest easy. Cecilia will tend to you." The shapeshifter shakes his head, answering Cecilia. "Orc or orcs. Arrows and a scimitar is what I saw, but I need to hurry and go find out if there are more, lass. Otherwise, you'll have more casualties tonight. I'll send word for your brother."
"Okay.. Thank you, Mobeorn." Cecilia doesn't watch to see him go, her attention is on her patient. "Hakr.." She says in a sweeter tone. "Just lay still. I know you're hurting, but I can help you faster if you do not move, okay?" She pauses in threading a needly to reach and rest a hand against the fisher's cheek. "Just concentrate on taking even breaths."
Hakr struggles for a moment, trying to force words out to explain to Mobeorn. In the end, all that comes out is a quiet "...One...". One orc. Hopefully. When Cecilia starts talking, he turns his head slightly, squinting to try and focus on her before nodding and closing his eyes. It's easier to relax this way, and he'll give his thoughts over to counting his breaths.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "One, right." Mobeorn nods to Hakr, having heard the man's words to him--but he is out the door anyhow, and off to presumably hunt the woods tonight. One orc is one too many that close to the village.
Cecilia spends the next hour or so working with her brother when he arrives to patch the fisherman up, neatly stitching up the wounds and giving Hakr a heavy dose of medicine to help him sleep once they feel he is stable enough to handle it. It will be much longer after that before she's comfortable going home for the night, deep worry on her face.
‹Mobeorn› More footsteps. Pad pad -pause-. Pad pad pad pad -pause.- They seem to be coming closer, and in the darkness that now shrouds the trees along the bank, two blood-red eyes stare out, blinking. Or maybe it's just a leaf fluttering down. A sound like harsh breathing whistles in the trees...or is it the wind?
‹Hakr› The hackles on the back of his neck begin to rise now. He told Mobeorn he wasn't afraid of any goblin, and he's telling himself now that he's not. It's the damned... Eeriness. The wind is playing havoc with his imagination, making him feel things that aren't there. All the same, he'll lift the spear out and set it on the ground nearby, attacking the driftwood with renewed vigour.
‹Mobeorn› Whoosh...sploosh.... The wind whistles right by Hakr's face, and something splashes into the river. The wind, in this case, mysteriously sounds like a bow string being loosed and an arrow in flight. How odd.
‹Hakr› Looking like a paranoid fool hardly matters if no one is around to see it. The rush of air, the splash - a hand grabs the spear and Hakr is up and turned, looking at the undergrowth. He can feel his heart pounding harder in his chest, and the twitches of adrenaline are starting to come now. Is it fear? Excitement? (more)
‹Hakr› Fleeing would be impossible now - there's only the river, and the current is strong. Weapon readied, the fisherman will swallow hard and take a few steps towards the woodline. There's no time to be afraid now - push it out.
‹Mobeorn› A bowstring twangs loudly. How could this archer miss from this distance, the target right in front of him? A black-fletched orc arrow flies from the forest, though the archer is still hidden in the trees and there are branches that hang in the way and could obstruct the course of the arrow. One arrow, then another is in the air right away. A cackle sounds from the forest. This is no squirrel.
‹Hakr› Seeing the first arrow shoot by, inches from his head, is enough to get the fisherman running towards the treeline with a renewed fervour. If he can just make it to the trees, maybe the archer won't be able to get a clear line... The orc is quick on the reload, though, and Hakr only sees the arrow moments before he feels it. (more)
‹Hakr› Searing pain lances through his shoulder as something wicked and fast digs in. The momentum of the arrow, combined with Hakr's sprint twists him and forces a yell of pain. Then he's in the trees, looking for the enemy, adrenaline and anger driving him on.
‹Mobeorn› "Meat!! Meat!! Fresh meat tonight!" an orc voice cackles. The goblin-small and dark and vile--looses another two arrows before the man is upon him, running into the woods. And then it throws its bow to the side, drawing a foul-looking scimitar and rushing forward to meet Hakr's charge, heedless of its own safety.
‹Hakr› The man barely even feels the first arrow as it glides by, clipping his side. Its partner finds purchase in his right side, but the creature won't have an easy kill this time. Common sense tells Hakr that his spear's reach should give him a hand, and with as fierce a battlecry as he can muster, he'll drive the polearm forwards at the creature. It's no salmon, but if it can breathe, it can die.
‹Mobeorn› The slicing, deadly blade cuts through the air, flashing with the last of the setting sun, its sharp edge aimed to cleave the man in half. But..what's this...with a howl of pain and frustration, the orc falls backwards, the polearm spearing into its middle. Armor does the creature wear, but the shock knocks its breath out. (more)
‹Mobeorn› The orc falls to the forest floor, but not before it slices the blade sideways to try to cut the man's feet out from under him. Literally.
‹Hakr› A cry of triumph as the spear goes in is quickly replaced by a yell of pain as the fisherman's armourless shin is sliced open. The attack drops him to one knee, but he's trying to force his weight onto the spear, twisting and pulling it. With his good foot, the man will try to stomp down hard on the orc's throat, the pain seeping past the battle rush now as blood drips out more and more.
‹Mobeorn› "Auuuughhhhhhhh!!!" The orc's arms and legs flail wildly about as, scmitar still in hand, he tryies to get the man's foot off his throat. His voice gurgles something terribly--his feet shooting up to try for a cheap shot to the fisherman's groni.
‹Hakr› Leave it to an orc to fight dirty. It won't be the groin that gets hit, thankfully - fortune may be nudging the fisherman today. The first kick misses, the concern of another is enough to get him to twist his body out of the way. The foot comes off the orc's throat as Hakr moves to distance himself from the flailing appendages, trying to pull the spear out enough to be able to drive it in again
‹Mobeorn› As soon as the boot comes off his throat, the orc springs to his feet, scimitar slashing through the air, aiming for Hakr's arms or legs--anything at all. The beast tries to attack--to kill the man--before he can get the spear free. "Foul thing!! Stay still! I want meat!!!" it hisses.
‹Hakr› "Just... Die, beast!!" Hakr feels the rush of air from the desparate swings, the orc trying to gut him. For the most part, the length of the spear is what saves him, but not from one lucky cut across his chest, cutting through the layers of clothing and making a red line of blood. In a howl of pain and frustration, the man pulls back fiercely on the polearm, twisting as he does so.
‹Mobeorn› Without hesitation, the orc jumps in, closing the distance between him and the man so that the spear's length offers no advantage--trying to get there before the man can strike. Scimitar blade slashes down--might as well disembowel his prey while he is at it. Does the orce make it?
‹Hakr› Seeing the goblin spring, Hakr opts for an all out charge instead of a thrust. He can't use the momentum of the spear, but he's willing to use the momentum of his body, spring forth in a vicious counterattack, heedless of the swinging blade. Vision blurring now, the steel arcs into view, cutting into his already damaged shoulder where it sticks fast. It's a gamble - will he repay the damage?
‹Mobeorn› The spear meets orc body with a sickening sort of thud, and for a moment the beast looks horrified. Then it laughs, its mouth opening to reveal foul-smelling breath and rotted teeth. "Mine!! the orc hisses, trying to yank its blade free. But the movement makes it howl in pain, so that its attack is cut short for just an instant--an opening for Hakr, if he can manage it while the blade is dug in.
‹Hakr› The orc pauses and, grimacing to blot out the pain, Hakr will grit his teeth and put his strength into another press forwards, twisting the spear and trying to shove the thing into the nearest tree, even going so far as to press his damaged shoulder into the attack, trying to wrench the weapon inwards and up as he goes.
‹Mobeorn› There's a great gurgling noise, a startled look on the orc's filthy face, and then blood spews from its mouth as it is skewered on the fisherman's spear. It is dead. Quite certainly dead, though it looks surprised at this outcome, even in death.
‹Hakr› "...Mine..." It takes a moment for Hakr to realize that he's killed his first orc, and pulling the weapon out is becoming very hard with leaden arms. Blood loss is blurring his vision as well, and as he picks his way back to his boat, leaning heavily on his spear for support, he realizes that it will likely be a futile gesture. It's dark now, and the river is swift. (More)
‹Hakr› Navigating the boat back now will be impossible. There's some pride in the fact that he wasn't afraid - he was true to what he said. It's likely that he won't get to boast now, though. What a pity. There's not strength enough to push the heavy boat back into the water anyhow, so the fisherman will sit - more of a slow fall, really - leaning against it and pulling the brim of his hat down.
‹Mobeorn› Footsteps again sound on the bank behind the man, but this time they are not stealthy. Still, they are coming from the woods, loud and plodding.
[Hakr(#3217)] The sound seems so... Far away at this point. Hakr is finding it hard to stay awake, to even move. If this is another orc come to finish him, there's no way he'll be able to fight it. He can't even see the treeline when he raises his head to look. It was always a possibility, though. At least this time, if an orc comes to kill him, he won't feel it, as darkness overtakes his vision and he slips into unconsciousness with a barely audible murmur of some sort.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The thing that emerges from the forest is big and brown. Very big. Very brown. And very bear. Brown eyes stare for a moment as the bear pauses before Hakr, then it growls and heads toward him, looking to topple the man over its shoulder. And if it succeeds, to swim the man across the river to the village.
Infirmary
The dark of night is held at bay in this room by two small lamps carefully set upon a long table that extends along the far wall and the flickering light of the fire in a small hearth in the far right corner. The dark of night turns the large windows on either side of the door into ebon mirrors, reflecting the light sources back into the room. Along either side of one entering the room are rows of cots, some apparently occupied, judging from the shapes covered in warm blankets.
Cecilia is on the evening shift, her time almost up until her brother comes to relieve her. No one is particularly happy with the situation, but both siblings agree it's better than angering Mogel further or having their father cover the night shift. Elaos has been busy taking care of his friend lately.
The healer is sitting in the empty infirmary up to her usual time-killer, embroidery. She's methodically stitching a quilt, something she's just begun working on.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] The peace and boredom of the night is broken as Mobeorn pulls the door open. Somewhere between river and village he has changed back into human form, though his tunic, trousers and hair stream with the river water. As does those of the man slumped over his shoulder, watery blood dripping from both of them, seemingly. "Help me."
Hakr is only dimly aware that he is not dead at this point - swimming in and out of the edges of consciousness at various points, it's like watching a dream, sometimes getting snatches of sound or dull feelings. He's not aware enough to do much more than occasionally grunt as flashes of pain come, his mind trying to shake off the cobwebs and part real from surreal.
Cecilia looks up when the door opens, and before Mobeorn asks for help she is beginning to rise, curiousity on her face. "What..?" She trails off almost immediately and rushes across the room. "What happened? Are you hurt? Who is this?" The girl that is normally so fussy about staying clean doesn't hesitate to reach in and offer a helping hand. "This cot.. the first one here.."
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Found him on the other side of the river. Him and one dead orc, skewered to a tree with that spear of his," Mobeorn replies first as he walks over to the bed and puts Hakr on the bed the healer has indicated. "Me?" he then says, puzzled. "No, it's his blood. Hakr. The fisherman."
[Hakr(#3217)] The snatches of voices are something to grab onto, especially hearing the mention of his name. A hand twitches momentarily when he is placed on the bed, his mind rewinding and replaying the events that, at the time, seemed so slow. Was it really that quick? If he's not in the afterlife, where *is* he? At least it's warm.
"Hakr!" Cecilia looks positively aghast and rushes around to the opposite side of the bed. She begins looking him over, assessing his injuries with deep concern on her face. "The shelf to the left, there are stacks of clean towels.. and, I'll need the basin of water next to the hearth." She orders, not taking her eyes from the fisherman.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn doesn't have to be told twice. He moves with speed that might be surprising for such a tall man, finding towels and water, stacking it all on a table and chair next to the healer. "I'll need to cross the river again, maybe take a patrol across. Too damn close to the village."
[Hakr(#3217)] Things are coming flying back now - memories, sounds, and, of course, pain. Rather intense pain flashing up every time a muscle twitches. An eye flicks open momentarily, but everything's blurry and oddly bright. With a wince, he'll close it again, half hoping to slip back out of consciousness once more, if only to avoid the pain that comes with being awake. Attempts to talk, to tell Mobeorn about what happened, die in the man's throat, occasionally slipping out as groans, and eventually he'll give up for the time being and just try to lay still.
Cecilia snatches up a towel and presses it against the bleeding gash on Hakr's chest, holding it firmly for a moment. Then she looks up at the beijibar. "Hold this here.. I need to bind his leg and mix some herbs." She reaches for another towel, assuming Mobeorn will aid her for a few minutes until she gets things under control. Tightly she wraps it around his shin, tying it firmly. "Shhh, Hakr! Just lay still! You'll be fine.. I promise." Well, 'fine' is rather relative anyhow. The healer moves away to a counter to begin rifling through bottles, pulling out several and a jar full of some kind of ground herb.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Right," Mobeorn nods, putting his hand to the man's bleeding wound. "Do you want me to fetch your father? Elaos?"
"Umm.. no. Get my brother, Dagur. He is supposed to be here soon anyway. He might be preparing dinner, but I can fetch him something later if he hasn't had a chance to eat. I'm sure he's at our house." Cecilia returns to the bedside after a few moments. "Okay, you can move your hand. I have everything I need." She begins cleaning the gash on his chest and applies a stinging solution that feels cold, but after a few moments will numb the pain considerably. "Do you know what happened?"
Hakr is certainly trying not to make things harder for the healer, but when she places pressure on a wound, the pain flashes, causing a gasp of air and a groan of pain. When the beijabar takes over applying pressure to his chest, the man's eyes will snap open - they don't seem focused on anything in particular, just trying to distinguish blurry forms. Hakr may have occasionally injured himself before, but this level of pain is very new, and very real.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "Easy, easy," Mobeorn says, easing up pressure just a bit as Hakr's eyes open. "You're safe, man. Did your part. The orc is dead. Just...rest easy. Cecilia will tend to you." The shapeshifter shakes his head, answering Cecilia. "Orc or orcs. Arrows and a scimitar is what I saw, but I need to hurry and go find out if there are more, lass. Otherwise, you'll have more casualties tonight. I'll send word for your brother."
"Okay.. Thank you, Mobeorn." Cecilia doesn't watch to see him go, her attention is on her patient. "Hakr.." She says in a sweeter tone. "Just lay still. I know you're hurting, but I can help you faster if you do not move, okay?" She pauses in threading a needly to reach and rest a hand against the fisher's cheek. "Just concentrate on taking even breaths."
Hakr struggles for a moment, trying to force words out to explain to Mobeorn. In the end, all that comes out is a quiet "...One...". One orc. Hopefully. When Cecilia starts talking, he turns his head slightly, squinting to try and focus on her before nodding and closing his eyes. It's easier to relax this way, and he'll give his thoughts over to counting his breaths.
[Mobeorn(#22365)] "One, right." Mobeorn nods to Hakr, having heard the man's words to him--but he is out the door anyhow, and off to presumably hunt the woods tonight. One orc is one too many that close to the village.
Cecilia spends the next hour or so working with her brother when he arrives to patch the fisherman up, neatly stitching up the wounds and giving Hakr a heavy dose of medicine to help him sleep once they feel he is stable enough to handle it. It will be much longer after that before she's comfortable going home for the night, deep worry on her face.
Players: Hakr, Mobeorn, Cecilia
Located in: Beorning
