An unexpected healer

East Road - Near the Trollshaws

The woods to the north have begun taking over the road, their high branches forming an umbrella that blocks out the waxing gibbous moon and stars. Off to the south, more trees are present, completing the canopy overhead. The road is narrow here, the woods looming.

Contents:

Damlur

Brev

Nob

Painfully Obvious Net Trap

Obvious exits:

East and West

[Frarin] It is late, quite late, but not so late that all in the small company of Blue Mountain dwarves are asleep. Given the attack upon the camp some two nights previous, an extra guard has been set this eve, yet even with such extra precautions, many within the camp find it difficult to sleep. Several are quite badly wounded, lying swathed in makeshift bandages or else groaning unhappily in fitful slumber. The camp has been moved from where it was attacked, but not far, and although there has been no sign of the traitor Imladech for two days, few sit easy this night.

Frarin sits propped up again a tree, his legs covered in a blanket and his war hammer at his side. But despite the close proximity of his weapon, he looks little able to wield it. His left hand is hung in a crude sling, every single of the fingers of his left hand a vicious black-blue bruise. He hunches forward also, clearly pained in the chest. But it is his face that is most disfigured. Two black eyes and an angry red scar over his nose betray the tell-tale signs of a broken nose. Dried blood still clings to his mustache and beard. The merchant does not seem to be sleeping, but he does not move.

[Damlur(#30238)]     There is another Dwarf that sits a little apart, clad entirely in black armour. That is, except for the white strips wound about his torso and ribs. Sitting at the edge of the light cast by the camp fire, he seems to be sharpening the edges of his battle axe. If the vigorous way he is using his whetstone is any sign, this sable-clad Dwarf looks to be a little... angry, perhaps. After all, it\'s not every day you face a traitor, only to have him dance away from your strikes.

[Brev(#30997)] The hours of darkness are not an ideal time to travel, unless one is a goblin. The Dwarves are not the only ones to have sought a place to camp this night. Nor are they the only ones wary of their surroundings. Thus it is that Brev has left his two companions and the ponies behind so that he can make sure no unpleasant surprises lurk in the vicinity.

He moves carefully, cautiously, along the side of the roadway, feeling his way as much as seeing it. And his head tilts as though listening. A tall figure he is, clearly human, and in his hand is a spear.

[Frarin] A rough cough shakes Frarin and he leans back gingerly against the tree behind him, but this time at least, no blood is brought up from his chest. Yet the act of coughing seems unhappily to jar his tender broken nose, for he grimaces, closing his eyes and listening only to the scrape of the sable-clad dwarf\'s whetstone.

The merchant is silent for a time, but he speaks abruptly, his eyes still closed. \"So who are you?\" he rumbles gruffly, voice rasping. \"And what is the traitor Imladech to you?\" One black eye opens slightly.

[Damlur(#30238)]     Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. \"Names are not important,\" rumbles the sable-clad Dwarf from beneath his helm, not looking up from his work. \"But what concerns the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains concerns me and when there is one named traitor of our kindred within reach, I do shall not stand aside. Nor shall I fail to render assistance to Dwarves in the wilds.\"

[Brev(#30997)] Brev, still keeping carefully to the edge of the trees that seem to crowd in on the rutted road, freezes at the sound of speech. The words do not carry well, but the deep-throated voices are unmistakeable. \"Dwarves?\" Brev murmurs thoughtfully. \"Might as well see if they want company ...\" And he steps out into the roadway, clearly visible now should any sentries be looking his way. Spear in hand, he approaches at an unhurried pace.

[Jori(#30183)] Not all dwarves are loud and brash. At least, not at first. As Brev steps closer to the encampment, he is not alone. Off a fair distance is Jori Pathfinder, the dark-clad dwarf walking silently across the foilage surrounding the camp, and keeping a wary eye upon the man. He may be a traveller, or trader, but with all the commotion, Jori takes no chance. Particularly not with that spear in hand. His nocked arrow looses across the soil, the unorthodox Dwarven weapon skittering harmless several yards in front of Brev, as Jori begins to nock another. Jori makes a low hoot in the eye, alerting his brethren to the unidentified human.

[Frarin] \"Names must be important if there is a reason not to give them,\" Frarin replies quietly to the black dwarf\'s comment about names. \"But what brings you here to the wilds then?\" Yet even as the merchant voices this query, the sentries posted about the camp begin to stir and several call out. Once again, a lone human approaches the camp, silent and clearly armed. The general reaction of those still awake is much akin to Jori\'s, for there are quickly other dwarves standing, some drawing blades.

One of the sentries calls out, \"Ho! Who comes?\"

[Damlur(#30238)]     A quiet ringing of mail and scraping of metal as the black-armoured Dwarf shrugs a shoulder. \"Names are only as important as one believes.\" A brief pause. \"As I said, a traitor was within reach. And with your little group here heading into the wilds, I thought it would be prudent of me to shadow your group in case you needed assistance.\"

Anything else the Dwarf might say is put off by the stirrings of the sentry\'s putting aside whetstone, he stands, hefting his battle-axe.

[Brev(#30997)] As the warning arrow clatters to the path at his feet, Brev freezes, letting out a single word in a guttural-sounding tongue that\'s probably an expletive. \"Easy there,\" he calls out in sing-song Common. \"That the way you treat all travellers on the road? I\'m no goblin. Though might be safer taking my chances with them if that\'s the mood you\'re in ...\" He eyes the growing array of weapons being turned his way with disfavour.

The words are smoothly spoken, his stance relaxed - but his gaze slips to the trees and away, marking out a path of retreat, and he\'s poised on the balls of his feet as though ready for flight.

[Jori(#30183)] \"Blackguards and brigands walk the road as of late, traveller.\" growls a voice from behind him, as Jori steps out onto the road with his bow nocked but not lifted. \"Treachers and attercops. You came closer when you heard us. What\'s your business?\"

Jori is not dressed to the nines like his compatriots. Simple tunics and dark cloth adorn the dwarf, and his beard is not braided, but left to fall naturally. More rustic than his compatriots, perhaps, but not less armed.

[Frarin] \"All travellers who approach alone and at night, yes,\" comes Frarin\'s raspy reply, called over the heads of the sentries now glaring at Brev. The merchant makes a painful effort to sit up straighter. Although he does not nod vigorously because of his battered head, he does gives a slight nod and a frown at Jori\'s words to the traveller, as if heartily in agreement. \"Does Imladech come for a second attempt at death? Tell him he may find it this time.\"

[Damlur(#30238)]     A slight snort emerges from the great helm of the black-armoured Dwarf before he hefts his axe onto a shoulder. \"His orcs found plenty, that is certain,\" says the Dwarf, \"perhaps now he has taken to using Men, to try to lull our guard. Not the wisest of plans.\"

[Brev(#30997)] Brev spins at the sound of the new voice, keeping both the speaker and the camp in sight as best he may. He edges back until he can feel the rough, reassuring bole of a tree behind him. \"My business?\" he answers Jori with a snort. \"Staying alive, mostly. Figured since you weren\'t goblins we could share the road. My mistake, eh? I\'ll just be off.\" He favours the rustic-looking Dwarf with a twisted smile.

\"Oh, and tell your friend I\'d prefer life to death, thanks,\" he tosses in in afterthought.

COMBAT: Your health improves.

[Jori(#30183)] \"Easy there, stranger.\" grumbles the scout, and quivering his arrow. \"If you are indeed just looking for refuge, I mean you no offense. But it would hurt no one to warm aside a fire for awhile before going off again.\" replies Jori, stepping closer. \"Are you set to trade, perhaps? We can offer wares and services, if you have items to trade or services of your own to barter. Medicines especially could earn you a spot by the firelight.\"

[Frarin] Frarin grumbles at the traveller\'s reply, but contents himself initially with another harsh cough. He leans again back against the tree behind him, looking wearied. The sentry who originally called out to Brev now adds his own questions to Jori\'s. \"What\'s your name then? And your purpose?\"

[Damlur(#30238)]     Since the human does not seem to be much of a threat, the sable-clad Dwarf \'hmphs\' quietly before sitting back down, whetstone taken up as he lays his battle axe across his knees. As he once more begins scraping it against the blades, he listens as the sentry gives his own questions.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev\'s automatic reaction to the Dwarf stepping closer is to lift the spear a little, as though in warding. At the question about trade he starts to shake his head, then stops suddenly. \"Happens I might have something for you there,\" he says at last. \"Least, a young friend might. The lad brought herbs to trade.\"

The sentry\'s question is answered by a lifted chin and a defensive look. \"Name\'s Brev. Headed to the sheep-herder\'s village, figured they might have some work for the summer, since I\'m not the most popular back in Breelands.

The harsh cough breaks his glare for the first time the man seems to notice that there are others behind the sentries. \"Kiern, what happened here?\" he demands abruptly. \"Troll? Damn, I was hoping things were nice and quiet. Here, let me see-\" Earlier hostility seemingly set aside, he tries to move forward.

Jori does not stop Brev. Instead, the dwarf quietly steps back off the road. It is not long before he has silently taken a position within the camp itself, a shortsword drawn and laid across his lap as he leans upon his bow, sitting on the soil. He is apart of the gathering and not, close enough to speak quietly and defend his wounded brethren, but at the same time close enough to the border to take to the shadows, and interrupt any approaching enemy.

[Frarin] The sentry does not block Brev\'s path either, allowing the man to pass further into the camp, though the guard\'s eyes scan the woods beyond as well. Frarin, for his part, frowns again, rumbling in his chest as if to stave off another harsh cough. His blackened eyes glare at Brev as the man comes closer, but then his expression fades somewhat, replaced by...curiosity, perhaps?

\"Brev?\" says the merchant, still leaning against his tree as he watches the man. Then he gives a brief wave with his good hand. \"Come closer, lad. Twas no troll as did this, but a man. You will perhaps appreciate our wariness.\"

[Damlur(#30238)]     \"Though he fought with orcs, and they did have a troll,\" says the sable-clad Dwarf from beneath his helm, pausing in his work to examine the edges of his axe. Seemingly satisfied, the whetstone goes into a pouch and the weapon is slung onto his back. \"But the troll was only there briefly. Aye... one of your kind,\" he says to Brev, \"a traitor to the Dwarves.\"

[Brev(#30997)] Brev treads softly through the camp, dark head turning this way and that as he glances first at one bandage-ridden form, then another. Chance halts his steps before Frarin. He bends to survey the injured Dwarf with something of the other\'s black curiosity reflected in his own eyes at the sight of the blue-headed warhammer his gaze pauses, and his cheek twitches briefly.

\"I know some little of herbs,\" he says at last, \"but a fair bit more of knives and stitching. How things are done out in the wilds, back where I come from. Figure I could help you, some. But what\'s in it for me? Your word that you\'ll not skewer me would be a good start. /I\'m/ not bloody fool enough to fight a Dwarf.\"

At Damlur\'s comment he bristles, straightening up again. \"/My/ kind?\" he repeats, scowling. \"And what kind would that be? You know nothing of me, nor any I choose to call kin. So you can keep your damn presumptions to yourself.\"

[Jori(#30183)] \"Manners.\" idly chides the gruff Jori from the back. \"You know they meant no offense, and you risk offending them in kind. We are not all so wounded.\" he says with gentle warning, before gesturing towards Damlur. \"If you help our friend here, you\'ve got my word I wont bring any harm to you, nor allow it while you\'re in our company. I cannot speak for the others, but there it is.\"

[Frarin] \"Very wise of you,\" Frarin rasps. He shoots a brief scowl at the sable-clad dwarf and grumbles, \"Imladech is a traitor like few others, cousin. I would no more fault this man for being merely human than I would a Breelander.\" The merchant eyes Brev once more as Jori issues his word to the man, but Frarin seems thoughtful, peering at him with narrowed eyes.

\"I will not harm you if you offer what you know of healing,\" he rumbles at last. \"I am hardly in a position to decline it. But more than that, I might be better inclined to forgive you for tricking the dwarves into carrying out your dirty work, if you were to help us.\" He watches the man carefully for a reaction, but after a second, also taps the blue war hammer at his side. \"You know who I am, I believe.\"

[Damlur(#30238)]     A slight snort comes out from under that sable helm but, for now, the black-armoured Dwarf offers no further replies upon that particular subject. \"No harm to you shall come from my axe, as long as you do not injure a Dwarf, especially if you can give some solace to the wounded.\"

[Brev(#30997)] \"I know I\'ve had enough of being blamed for the deeds of some hundred-fold ancestor in some far-off land,\" Brev mutters sourly in Jori\'s direction. But at the other words he turns, jerking his head in a nod. \"Likewise on my part. Like I said, I prefer life to death.\"

The time taken to return his attention to Frarin is clearly all the time Brev required to regain his composure, for he regards the other coolly. \"I don\'t believe we\'ve been introduced. You\'re sorely mistaken to think I\'d trick Dwarves. So - lets have a look at you, eh? Someone fetch hot water? And some other time,\" he adds under his breath as he crouches beside Frarin, \"we can have a talk about knives.\"

Damlur\'s comment is met with a shrug, and as Brev sets his spear down he peers over to the black-armoured figure. \"Looks like you\'re among their number too,\" he comments drily.

[Frarin] \"Aye, let\'s,\" Frarin mutters to Brev as the man crouches over him, though Frarin gives him a mildly surprised look at the mention of knives. Yet he says nothing more and instead again attempts to sit up straighter, though it brings a grimace to his face. \"Bloody hammer tried to make scrap metal of my helmet,\" he grumbles, indicating a dented, but finely-made helm by his side. Then he waves at his broken nose. \"I fear my head suffered as a result. And my chest, and my wrist. Tis poor fortune indeed to be on the losing end of a hammer.\"

[Damlur(#30238)]     \"There are others worse than I,\" says the sable-clad Dwarf. \"I have nothing that time and pints shall not cure, but if you want to see how well ribs are mending, I shan\'t stop you.\" The helmed head turns slightly to gaze upon the dented helm of the merchant for a few silent moments.

[Brev(#30997)] Brev shrugs off his cloak and pulls a small pack of his shoulder. Despite his words about herbs, he comes up with a couple of pungent-smelling roots which he crushes before applying the pungent-smelling paste to Frarin\'s hand \"for the swelling. Won\'t use this on the head, too close to the eyes. Cold cloths should help, if you\'ve the patience to leave them be. Any headaches? Seeing double?\"

He hesitates before gesturing to the other bandage, at the chest. \"A hammer?\" he repeats. \"Then it wasn\'t a big brute witn axe?\" There is a note almost of relief in his voice, though as he starts to unwind the bandaging his expression is merely neutral.

At Damlur\'s words, the corners of Brev\'s mouth twitch slightly. \"I might take you up on the offer,\" he responds. \"If only to see how much quicker they heal than mine.\"

[Frarin] \"Seeing double, headaches,\" Frarin grumbles unhappily. \"All of the above? It\'s this bloody nose.\" His good hand gingerly prods the edges of his nose, which brings only a fresh grimace. \"Like I\'ve had a bloody great iron, hot as fire, planted between my eyes to cool.\"

Yet his eyes focus when Brev attempts to casually double check the identity of the merchant\'s attacker. \"No, twas a man with a hammer. A trained man, with fine armor like a lord. Why? Do you know any brutes with axes that like crushing the chests of dwarves?\"

[Damlur(#30238)]     A slight grunt comes from the black-armoured Dwarf, turning his helmed head to look at Brev for a few long moments at the mention of \'brute\' and \'axe\'. \"Quick he was, too. Quickest man I have seen, at any rate.\"

[Brev(#30997)] Don\'t touch,\" Brev warns Frarin, too late. He grins at the description. \"Feels that way. Not much I can do for it save recommend you get your friend to share some strong spirits, should take the edge of it. If you\'re breathing well, it\'s best to leave it to mend itself.\" At the question, ne snorts. \"Don\'t know about Dwarves, but there\'s one who likes trying to hack the arms off part-grown lads. Had some trouble up this way a few years back.

Damlur\'s comment brings a scowl. \"This one was quick, too, for all his size. Kiern grant it\'s not the same.\"

Clearly that thought has made him uneasy, for he halts before the bandages are fully unwound, though he does probe the area lightly with his fingers. \"I\'ll take another look at this later,\" he tells Frarin. \"Want all my things handy. The hole might need sealed with a hot knife, else it\'ll fester.\" That information passed casually on, he continues, \"Want to bring my friends here first. Safer they\'re here than out there waiting. Don\'t worry, there\'s only two of them. Gidon\'s just a lad, he\'s no threat. And there\'s my girl, too.\"

[Frarin] \"Gidon, mm?\" Frarin grumbles, though he refrains from much comment as he is poked and prodded, looking as if he is quite seriously considering the prescribed spirits. \"Fine, fine,\" he says, waving the man away. \"Then leave me that I might mutter in peace. There\'s little enough can be done when it needs bone to reknit. Little to hurry that along.\" And so grumbling, he leans his head back again and closes his eyes.

Jori has retreated back into the woods sometime during the impromptu surgery of the men -- but not out of sight. The scout paid careful attention to the herbs in particular used by the wandering healer, making a mental note to himself to try and harvest more, should he come across them. Surgery, he noted with some surprise, wasn\'t so different from leatherworking, or tailoring. Just....wetter.