No pain, no gain

Shepherding Village

This is the home of a small, proud, and independent people who live primarily by herding sheep in

the open lands south of the Great East Road. Once driven from this region by troll depredations,

they have returned and appear to be prospering, perhaps because they can also profit by trade on the

Great East Road.

Or rather.... we should say it /was/ the home of these people. The many sturdy houses and smaller

huts clustered on a hill here have mostly been burned. Some are yet standing, more are nothing more

than charred timbers. Once, they were safely ensconced behind a deep ditch and wall. The ditch is

filled with the ashy ghosts of thorn bushes ... and the gate hangs crookedly, black as charcoal.

But a stone wall is being built by a group of industrious dwarves, and many of the buildings that

were still standing have been repaired. The village is now a mixture of the charred, skeletons of

houses, and shiny new ones.

A long, low, smoke-stained building, sprawling along the hillside below the caravanserai, appears to

the south. Its thatched roof has miraculously escaped burning - though there are black patches

across it. Thick lead-paned windows are dark. A group of industrious men and dwarves and a few elves

are camped in the open area.

Obvious exits:

Gathering House, Caravanserai, and Great East Road

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| Yfelwydan Time (YST) |

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** Real time is: Tue Nov 02 15:39:17 2010, GMT -8 **

Elendor time is: Late Night on a Cloudy Hevensday, Day 3 of May 3051.

Note: It\'s nighttime out, so it\'s safe to wander outside.

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[Steafan(#30362)]     Late day or early evening is it over the Shepherding Village, and the people are

going about their evening business, which is mainly still building things. Coming in from off the

road is a Man, looking a little worse for wear and with a bulging pack upon his back, over his axe.

Looking a little pale, the man, Steafan, seems to be favouring an arm as he looks for a place to

sit that is out of the way.

Amongst the builders is Brev. The outsider has found odd jobs aplenty to do today\'s task appears to

have involved repairing the fence to someone\'s pig-pen, judging by the general odour coming from him

and the muck on his boots. He runs a hand through his hair, not improving it any, and eyes the

newcomer curiously. \"Looking for something, were you? Or someone maybe ...\" His Common is sing-song.

[Steafan(#30362)]     Steafan\'s head snaps around as he is addressed, narrowing briefly before shaking

his head. \"A place to rest. Tired, walking all this way,\" says the man, words thick with accent of

somewhere further north. \"You would not happen to know of a healer of some type around here, would

ye?\"

Brev snorts at the first words. \"Well, there\'s always the cow-byre,\" he offers magnanimously. \"Or

the floor in the Gathering House. Least, that\'s what I do.\"

The other question is answered with a shrug. \"I might do. Why? Met with trouble on the road, did

you? What was it - goblins? Goblin-men?\" His amber eyes are narrowed as he scrutinizes the other -

and in particular that favoured arm - closely.

[Steafan(#30362)]     \"An old nail. Under a bridge. It might have been dipped in something foul,\"

replies Steafan, carefully moving his arm. \"The scratch looks like nothing, but... I have felt

rather ill.\" That said, he takes his pack off his back and sets it down, something inside it ringing

quietly. Of course, this also frees up the axe upon his back.

Brev frowns thoughtfully at that. \"Likely you got muck in it,\" he offers carelessly. \"That, and

carrying a loaded pack can\'t have done you much good. Times like that, a pony comes in handy.\" The

pack is offered a cursory glance the axe a rather longer one. Then he simply stands surveying the

other in silence.

Eventually he offers, \"Want me to take a look at it? Could, if you like - might need a fire though.

\'Sides, if you faint right here you\'ll get trampled when the livestock are brought in.\" He grins

briefly.

[Steafan(#30362)]     \"Ponies are expensive,\" says the man, \"and easily stolen. Harder to steal

somethin\' from a man if he\'s got it on him.\" He shakes his head slightly. \"Nah, that I didn\'t do.

Besides, muck don\'t cause pus,\" mutters Steafan before he nods. \"If ye\'ve any skill in it, I\'d

appreciate it.\"

Brev arches an eyebrow at those words, then snorts. \"Definitely a fire, then,\" is his assessment.

\"Come on, then - round here. Gathering House is too crowded.\" He jerks his head and indicates the

place round the back of the building where a fire has been lit, likely to burn rubbish. He holds out

one arm to Steafan the other hand reaches for the discarded pack. \"Where\'s this to go?\"

[Steafan(#30362)]     \"With me,\" says Steafan, voice low and eyes hooded as he reaches down with his

good arm to take the pack. \"Not gonna lose that.\" His eyes flick to the back of the building and the

fire there he jerks his head in a nod before he begins to move that way, steady (enough) on his

feet, though he does look a tad pale.

Brev frowns, whether because of Steafan\'s words or the briefly felt weight of the pack is unclear,

but replies amiably enough, \"Fine, you can lean against it, then. This should do.\" He gestures

toward a bale of straw, then tells the other, \"You\'ll need to get that jerkin off. Hope you\'re less

coy about it than the last fellow I asked. I\'ll be back in a few moments, want my things.\" He

disappears in the direction of the Gathering House without waiting to see whether the other man\'s

going along with this.

[Steafan(#30362)]     With a grunt, Steafan moves over to the straw bale and sits upon it the pack is

set at his feet with quiet ringing. Carefully, he removes his jerkin, setting it aside before

rolling up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the gash upon his arm. And thus he waits.

Brev emerges from the Gathering House with a small satchel slung over one shoulder and a small

kettle of steaming water swinging carelessly in his hand. A few drops splatter here and there, but

he somehow seems to avoid scalding his own person.

He sets the item down with a thump, then squats beside Steafan. \"Right then, lets see.\" He frowns as

he attempts to assess the gash, then demands,\"How long?\"

[Steafan(#30362)]     \"A few days, maybe?\" Asks Steafan after Brev speaks, shrugging his good arm. \"It

was near the river westward,\" says he, gesturing with his good hand to the west. \"Came this way

because I knew I\'d find someplace relatively secure that I might recover.\"

Brev is scowling fiercely at the injured arm. He peers without touching, takes the hand and turns it,

prods with a finger at a point well away from the gash itself, testing the tautness of the skin.

\"Hrm.\" He would appear to be lost in concentration, but at Steafan\'s final words a sharp bark of

laughter breaks from him. \"Kiern, but you have a strange idea of safe. Out there\'s goblins, trolls,

goblin-men - never quite sure they\'ll not choose tonight for their next attempt at burning the place.

Still, beggars can\'t be choosers.\"

He gets to his feet suddenly, and pulls the dagger from his belt, thrusting it into the flames. \"And

you don\'t have much of a choice. Cut\'s infected - I can try to burn the worst of it out now, or you

can wait and lose the arm. Up to you.\" Coolly, he awaits the response to that assessment.

[Steafan(#30362)]     \"Burn it out,\" says Steafan without hesitation. \"And, nah, cannot be picky. There

are folk here, and that means saftey. I know the paths of the forest out there well, so I know there

are few truly safe places, and this is amongst the safest. For all that means.\" With a shrug, his

eyes dart to the dagger, watching it heat.

Brev balances the dagger on a stone at the edge of the fire, so that his hands are free to rummage

in the satchel. A couple of fresh-looking roots, a couple of lengths of cloth ... \"Got something to

bite on?\" he asks without looking up.

[Steafan(#30362)]     A curt shake of the head. \"Nah. Never does much good. The sooner it is done, the

better, and the pain will be welcome. It has been dreadfully numb, the arm,\" replies Steafan,

steeling himself for what is to come.

They are reasonably out of the way, but a couple of villagers who happen to pass stop, staring. One

makes an unheard comment to the other, who shrugs and turns away. Apparently community welfare is

not of great concern here.

Brev scowls anew and fixes Stefan with a piercing glance. \"It\'ll do /me/ good. You start screaming

in my ear and my hand might slip. I\'ve had an arrow cut out before, hurts like the fires of the Pit.

Humour me.\" He thrusts a piece of cloth at Steafan and without waiting to see how it\'s used turns

back to the fire to lift his dagger.

[Steafan(#30362)]     The cloth is taken, but set aside. \"Nah, I shan\'t scream, no worries,\" says

Steafan, shaking his head. \"Forge-hot iron I\'ve had fall upon me this cannot be worse than that.\"

Indeed, there seems to be an old, faded mark on his forearm that might give truth to the words.

Brev answers that with a grunt. The southerner angles himself so that his left shoulder is toward

Stefan\'s chest, ready to pin the man if need be. A quick swipe with a swab of material removes the

worst of the pus (the cloth then being tossed carelessly toward the flames), and then Brev is

applying the dagger-blade with the same care as a housewife might show in sealing a joint of meat.

He is not gentle - but at least he is swift.

[Steafan(#30362)]     A hiss of pain comes from between clenched teeth Steafan stiffens some, exhaling

rapidly through the nose almost as soon as air is taken in through the mouth as the flame-heated

blade is applied to his arm. Still, he does not scream, those his eyes shut against the pain.

Brev\'s lips tighten a little at that hiss, but he shows no other awareness for the feelings of his

\'patient\'. At least the man isn\'t thrashing about. He pulls the dagger away .. but only to thrust it

in the fire again. \"Nearly done,\" he offers as he returns to his task.

[Steafan(#30362)]     Steafan offers a curt nod, taking the brief respite to breath deep a slight

shiver passing through him before he readies himself for the touch of hot steel once more.

The searing of flesh goes on a little longer but this time when the dagger-blade is withdrawn it is

set aside to cool, then reversed so that its hilt may pound one of the roots to pulp. \"This stuff\'s

supposed to draw out poisons,\" Brev supplies to the unfortunate Steafan. \"Used it before on cuts

from goblin blades. Mostly it works. Should be cooling, at the least.\" With that less-than-

reassuring statement he slaps some of the pulp onto the wound.

[Steafan(#30362)]     Two hisses come from Steafan: one as the blade returns to flesh, and another as

the pulp is applied. After a moment, the man nods his head. \"That is all one can ask. What payment

shall you take?\" His good hand reaches into a pouch on his belt jingling of coins can be heard.

Brev chuckles suddenly. \"Not going to wait to see if I\'ve done any good, eh?\" He lifts the remaining

piece of cloth and winds it carefully about Stefan\'s injured arm to keep the pulp in place. \"And I

don\'t usually take coin. Like you said earlier - carrying overmuch of the stuff makes a man a target.

\" He does not look at the pouch, though no doubt he\'s heard its jingling perfectly clearly. \"But

I\'ll make an exception if you don\'t have anything more useful as payment.\"

[Steafan(#30362)]     \"I shall not lay a king\'s ransom on ye, nah worries,\" says Steafan he pulls out

his hand and lays some copper coins upon the bale of straw. \"And you can take the jerkin there,\" he

jestures to the set-aside armour, \"too, if ye like. I shan\'t be needing it.\"

At that Brev lifts his head to stare at Steafan. \"And why in Kiern\'s name not?\" he demands suddenly.

\"I\'ve not killed you yet. Folk I help mostly recover. Not that I can\'t find a use for it, mind,\" he

adds hastily, recovering the casual demeanour of earlier. He picks up the dagger again and gives it

a final fire-cleaning before wiping and sheathing it.

[Steafan(#30362)]     \"I have come into something better, and shall not need it,\" says Steafan, arching

an eyebrow before he shrugs. \"If you want it, take it. Do ye want the coin, as well?\"

Brev gives Steafan another odd look. \"I\'d hardly refuse it if you\'re so free with it,\" he tosses

back, then shakes his head. \"Back where I come from, stuff like that has value far above a few coins.

Where are you from that it does not?\" There\'s a slight hoarseness to the singsong words suspicion,

mayhap, but likely also envy.

[Steafan(#30362)]     With a shrug, Steafan collects the coins back into the pouch they go. He

chuckles quietly, eyes gleaming briefly. \"No doubt you shall see in the near future. Let us say that

there are hardier things than leather to wear, if you can find them.\"

Brev snorts. \"If you mean those metal skins that the Strawheads wear, and some of the Dwarf-folk,

I\'ll warrant they\'re none so easy to move quick and quiet in. I\'d rather stay out of sight and sound

and outrun trouble when it threatens than be weighed down. Still, each to his own. Need a hand

getting your stuff to the Gathering House, traveller?\"

Perhaps it is a measure of those who choose to frequent the Shaws that he has neither asked for, nor

given, a name.

[Steafan(#30362)]     \"I can carry my own gear,\" says Steafan, voice deceptively mild. \"And I suppose

it would take skill to move quietly in the metal. Elves, if you believe in them, are said to be

quiet, and they must wear it.\" With a shrug, he stands and, after rolling down his sleeve, picks up

his pack.

\"I am sure there are some around here, once I have recovered, that shall need a guide through the

forest. And that is what I am good at.\" A brief, perhaps unsettling, grin is flashed by Steafan

before he heads towards the House.

Brev lets out a contemptuous puff of breath. \"Not all Elves do,\" is his own comment. \"Least, I\'ve

seen some skewered.\" He makes no move toward Stefan\'s pack, but merely suggests, \"If you\'re still

here in a few days, and I am, come back and show me the arm. Want to see how it\'s doing.\" Then, with

no more than a nod in farewell, he\'s off on some errand of his own, slinging the little satchel

across his shoulder as he goes.

Is he unsettled by that grin? Most probably, but it\'s hard to tell by looking at him. His swarthy

features are inscrutable.

=== Steafan\'s DESC ===========================================================

Coming in at six foot, it certainly looks as if this man has seen better days. Hair, dark brown or

black, with an occasional red highlight, falls to his shoulders and is unkempt. Hazel eyes look out

of the face, a cold, calculating gleam to them. The face is thin, almost gaunt, with a sharp,

hawklike nose.

Indeed the whole of the man\'s frame is thin and wolfish, lean more from build than from lack of

food. He is dressed in dark, weather-worn clothing: a black or dark blue or brown tunic covers his

torso, with a high collar and sleeves falling to the wrist it falls to the knee in length and is

split up to the groin. Trousers, black, cover his legs, and are tucked into dark brown leather

riding boots. A simple leather belt is wrapped around his waist, the buckle tarnished.

Over this is a suit of studded leather armour: the cuirass is near black from weather and stains,

and much the same can be said of the pauldrons, rerebracers, vambraces, greaves and other armour.

Leather gauntlets cover his hands. A weapons belt is worn over the first, with a whip hanging down

the right side, while a sheathed dagger is upon the left. Secured at his throat is a great cloak of

dark, worn green on the back is a long axe, ancient but still sound.

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