Urn Your Pay (Rae judging)

[Trouvere]

Gildrim lurches to a halt next to the lizardfolk, breathing hard. His knuckles show white on the haft of his morning star. "Dead, both dead," he gasps. He takes a few deep breaths. "Baith deid. Thaur wis a trowe skelet - kaegro screruq, vur kaldaka."

The need to concentrate on the difficult tongue helps to calm him. "Ghik renthisj okarthel haurach malsvir. Loreat mrith sveargith, shar si osvith. Arothivaldaka krikvlic vethihoinp."

Gildrim chants over his wounds. "Weel, at least that wirks, if nocht ense daes." He casts a hasty look over his shoulder at the house. "Yth gethrisj, yth gethrisj."

OOC: HP 14/24, 1/0 spells left

 

[serow]

[sblock=ooc]It's sad to see him go, but in a way I like it this way too, since it makes for a better story than the usual "we go in and kick ass hip hip hooray". This is really a house of very bad omen! And Gildrim seems to be the only one to live to tell the story haha!

So, how is this going to carry on?[/sblock]

 

[covaithe]

Apikotoa quickly stands rescues the mostly-cooked meat, tearing off a chunk and offering the rest to Gildrim, He kicks the fire apart with a few well-practiced motions, and covers the coals with soft dirt. In moments he is ready to travel. "Where we go?" he asks

 

[Trouvere]

"Oot," says Gildrim. "An' far awa'. Ah dinnae want tae face Erf an' his silly lassie jes' noo. But if ye shoud see Anemone in a few days, tell her whit befaw th' big fellae, an' that Ah've gane back tae Orussus."

 

[covaithe]

ooc: If it's "next stop, Orussus," we should make sure we know what treasure, if any, Gildrim has on his person before going. I keep meaning to look back through the thread and take notes on the treasure, but it's a slightly daunting task, and I haven't found time yet. Anyway, that's what I feel like ought to happen next.

 

[Trouvere]

OOC: essentially done. He has 1/3 of the money found in the strongbox upstairs, one as yet unidentified wand, some antique playing cards, two silver darts, an unspecified 1/3 selection of jewellery from the ILW-trapped cabinet and a portrait of a frowning woman who looks a little like Alvar Thorne.

The yellow boots, the amulet from the strongbox, the CLW wand and the +1 longsword were left downstairs with the troll. Erf left with some scrolls and with Kshatrya's silver chalice. There may be some other things - silverware is all I can think of ottomh - left in the house in the rooms where they were found.

 

[Trouvere]

"Th' paths seem langer whan yer hert is hivy," Gildrim comments.

 

[covaithe]

The path does seem long; the hours passing with aching slowness in the sodden marsh heat. The sky is sullen and gloomy, making the passage of time difficult to measure, and adding to the oppressive interminability of the trek. Apikotoa leads tirelessly, moderating his pace to Gildrim's wounds, and avoiding the worst of the sticky mud with the ease of a lifetime's experience.

An exhausted night is spent in the shelter of a hollow tree, and the grim journey continues in the morning. Gildrim feels somewhat better for the rest and further healing. Late on the second day, the open standing water begins to give way to beds of reedy water plants and lilies. Apikotoa picks clear pathways through them, and soon Gildrim is gratified to be splashing through ankle-deep water rather then slogging through up to his waist. At last, the swamp gives way to a thick mud that, though it barely qualifies as dry land, can at least be walked on rather than in. The clouds have thinned a bit, allowing a bit of reddish light through from the west, where lies the road north towards Orussus.

Apikotoa stops. "Thees ees where I must turn back. My people need me. You have dealt weeth me fairly. I weel tell my people thees, and they weel not harm you, should you return. Farewell."

 

[Trouvere]

"Ah will come back, tae gie Ter-raen's banes a dacent buiryin, an' th' ither fallae, if nothin' ense, but Ah'll wait on it until th' rottit's dane," Gildrim says, frowning beneath his black eyebrows.

He clasps the lizardfolk's scaly forearm in thanks. "Grendath kep th' misluck ay this expedeetion frae ye, an' blessins tae aw yer fowk! Fareweel!"

He turns and begins the long walk home.

OOC: 19/24 HP, spells 1/1, probably.

 

[covaithe]

With the sun overhead, a fresh breeze at his back, and (eventually) dry feet, Gildrim finds the miles fall away much easier on the northern road. After another night's rest, his wounds have faded to just another set of distant aches; the price of a life of adventure, some would say. The third day's walk brings him to the junction, where he turns toward Orussus with a sigh of relief to be on the more populated, and more carefully patrolled, road. From there it seems like only moments before his boots strike cobblestones instead of packed dirt, and the noise of the city surround him: cries of street merchants hawking their wares, urchins shouting at each other as they scamper tirelessly through the streets, the piercing screams of seabirds wheeling above, looking for a handout, or perhaps their next target. It's not home, but it's not swampland, either, which is no small thing.

[sblock=ooc]Where to? If you're inclined to recruit more and have another crack at it, feel free to go straight to the RDI. If you're ready to call it quits, head to Alvar Thorne's place, or I suppose just walk away. Up to you.[/sblock]