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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Sparky" data-source="post: 1377706" data-attributes="member: 13681">The old man starts as Yattro speaks, he coughs and struggles to sit up putting a shaking hand to his brow. "Wha... I..." His eyes clear and widen, "Leaving... for Hedrogura? He cannot!"Staggering out of bed and brushing off any attempts to keep him there (though accepting a blanket when Yattro puts one around his shoulders), the old man makes his way to the common room. Cold. Am I wearing a dress? Wha...? Oh. Robes. He wobbles on his feet into the common room and turns to address Yattro, fumbling, "Uh... what is your...? I'm afraid last night I... Wayfather!" The last word is almost a sob as he drops to his knees, tired and wheezing from the activity. He bows his head, "I am a foolish old man and beg your forgiveness. Farlanghn's grace has seen me this far and I have not even thanked his Steward. I offer my thanks to Farlanghn, this Station and you for your kindnesses. Please forgive a scared, sick old man." An entire sentence without coughing or sneezing, a restful sleep seems to have indeed done the poor wretch some good.Fendric enters the room to trade and a white-headed old man wrapped in a blanket is kneeling before Yattro. He appears to be in the middle of speaking...Hands folded before him, head still bowed, "Wayfather, I am Sebrin Oliver Manderock, of ...Hedrogura." He hesitates. If it still stands. He lifts his head, "Would you take me to this young man? He cannot leave before he hears what I have to say."He does not appear to have heard, or acknowledged, Fendric's entry. He lowers his eyes and waits quietly, breath rattling, for Yattro's words.Fendric... the old man, he is familiar. Something about him. Images and words bubble up unbidden from your memory...A young man kneels before you, cut, bleeding, banged up and quite filthy from fighting in the arena. He has not been particularly cooperative with your patient minstering to his dirty wounds. You implore him to be still and he snarls back, blood in his eye, "I could give a rat's ass about her Ladyship." He all but spits the word, "And as far as punishment... what do you think this is for me? A holiday?" He winces, grinding his teeth as you clean rather too vigorously a new and angrily red tattoo on the man's hand. A salamander biting its tail. He stays somewhat more still for the remainder of the 'bath' muttering under his breath, more anger than true venom, "Wanna clean something? Clean this, novice... Presentable. I'll present you something."But something else... something more recent. The old man's staff, lying quietly against the wall catches your eye and the symbol of Pelor nearly jumps off of it at you. It rushes back... this is... Caval's Horde, Exantrius... sanity. Fendric, you know this man.OOC: An INT check for Fendric, if he can't figure it out. <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile    :)"  data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /></blockquote>

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