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* Orlann is limping badly. He is using his sword to hold himself up, leaving small divots in the ground behind him. The end of his scabbard is caked with mud. His eyes are wild and nearly mad with grief. He manages to make the clearing where the Crow's Nest is nestled, then leans heavily against a tree. <Orlann> Move, damn you ::he mutters to himself in a sergeant's tone. Gradually, he manages to drag himself across the front lawn:: * Tarri comes out of the house with a woman whose arm is in a splint and sling. "Now, make sure you come back in a couple of days so I can-" She breaks off, staring at Orlann in surprise and dismay. "Um... A couple of days. Don't forget, now." <Tarri> ::The woman nods and departs, giving Orlann, with his naked sword and wild-eyed look, a bit of a berth.:: * Orlann barely notices the woman at all. <Tarri> ::coming down the stairs toward him:: Corporal! What happened? Where's your cane? ::she puts an arm around his waist to support him and helps him to a chair on the porch:: <Orlann> ::blinks a few times, trying to clear his head:: I don't... I left it. Didn't think it would help to h've it. <Tarri> So you end up using your *sword*? I told you, you're pushing yourself too hard... Wait here a moment. ::She gives him a concerned look before disappearing into the house:: * Orlann drops his sword to the porch with a clatter and buries his face in his hands. * Tarri comes back out with a spare cane tucked under one arm and a tray in her hands. On the tray is a large mug that smells strongly of medicine, a pot of honey, and a roll of bandages. She sets everything down on a table and kneels by Orlann's leg, putting a hand on his arm. "What happened?" * Orlann looks at his hand, ash-stained and streaked with dark red mud. "The ground was still wet... it's been *months* and it was still wet." <Tarri> ::uncertainly:: It's been raining. <Orlann> She said... said I did the right thing... I couldn't just... leave them, could I? Not like that... not suffering like that... <Tarri> ::frowning, she stirs some honey into the tea to cover the acrid flavor and presses it into his hand:: Drink, Corporal. *Who* said? What did you do? <Orlann> I... we went... I should have listened to you... I'm sorry. * Orlann takes a long, shuddering drink of the herbal mix in the mug. <Tarri> ::beginning to look alarmed:: You went *where*? <Orlann> ::slowly, as if aware, for the first time, that she's really there in front of him:: Home... we went home. <Tarri> ::blinks:: To Bleakhill? That's *days* away, Corporal. It must have been a dream. * Orlann unbuckles his belt pouch and hands it to her. "We went... Lady Mage took us... Just to look, not to... not to do anything..." <Tarri> ::takes the pouch automatically, staring at him with a stunned expression:: You- You got a mage to- Who? Why? <Orlann> ::hoarsely:: She was worried... she wanted to see for herself... didn't think the Dragons were prepared." <Tarri> ::eyes narrowing:: *Who*? <Orlann> ::softly:: The ground was still wet with their blood... still wet. Mistress Lisl wanted to see... she... <Tarri> ::closing her eyes:: Blessed Mother, save me from the good intentions of *adventurers*! ::She spits the word as if it is a curse:: What possessed her to drag you into that nightmare? <Orlann> ::shrugs:: I... she was worried, and wanted to see. I... knew the way. And I wanted... how could I have been so stupid? I wanted to know... <Tarri> ::softly:: And you learned more than you wanted. ::she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before looking at him again:: Were you injured, or did you just push your leg harder than you should have? <Orlann> ::his voice shakes:: We went... up to the lookout... in the mountains... they never lit the signal, we didn't know they were coming. If... we might have been able to get the women out, if we'd known... * Tarri sits back on her heels, watching with uneasy sympathy. <Orlann> They were dead... but they weren't... cold, misty shapes of men, screaming in agony... I couldn't just *leave* them that way... She wanted me to go, to leave them... I couldn't... they were my friends. <Tarri> ::eyes widen and she shakes her head in negation:: Sweet gods... <Orlann> ::his voice breaks:: I lied to them... I lit the fire and *lied* to them... I said the village was warned, that they could rest... <Tarri> ::shivering, her voice barely a thread:: Did it work? <Orlann> I think... they faded into the ground. The screaming stopped... I... they didn't come back. <Tarri> ::nods and puts her hand on his arm again:: That's good. That's- You... ::she blinks back tears:: Tell the Lieutenant. He'll see that a priest goes up to... make sure. Lay them to rest. * Orlann looks up at her. His pale blue eyes are filled with tears. "I lied to them... everything was destroyed... burned... the ground was still wet." <Tarri> ::meeting his gaze steadily:: The truth would not have helped them. ::she tightens her hand on his arm:: She was right about that, anyway. You did the right thing. <Orlann> I don't... I don't understand how... anyone could have done such a thing... dragged them all to the trees and slaughtered them... the ground was soaked with blood... ::he covers his face:: <Tarri> ::shaking her head, her face pale:: I don't think you would want to understand, Corporal. It's *evil*. <Orlann> ::hesitates, then gestures to the bag:: They took near everything they didn't burn... Lina loved that house, and it was... she wouldn't have ever wanted to see that, not like that... <Tarri> ::looks down at the bag in her lap as if seeing it for the first time.:: What's in here? <Orlann> Some of Lina's things... and a little money that I'd saved... all that was left unfound... <Tarri> ::nods, running a finger over the leather tooling:: May I look? <Orlann> ::nods:: I... Master Bran, for the healing... and I... wanted some of them. <Tarri> ::shakes her head firmly:: Lieutenant Adiethian said the Purple Dragons would cover the cost of your healing. Everything in here is yours. ::slowly, she opens the pouch and begins to pull things out, one by one:: <Orlann> ::the bag contains a cat's eye marble, a small leather bag of coins, two badly tarnished silver forks, an ash-stained woman's apron, a chipped mug, and a scorched pie tin:: * Tarri examines everything closely, except the coinpurse, which she sets aside without comment. When she gets to the pie tin, she lets out a short, bitter laugh that turns into a soft sob. <Orlann> The Lady Mage... she said that I shouldn't... and *you* said if I had need... ::he looks down at the ground:: I can't... and I don't have anyone else... I... could I stay? With you? <Tarri> ::wipes her face and nods:: Of course. ::sadly matter-of-fact:: You'll need someone to wake you up from nightmares, for a while, anyway, I expect. * Orlann starts trembling again. "I don't... how can I sleep? I... I'm sorry..." * Tarri very carefully re-packs Orlann's things into his pouch and hands it back to him. <Tarri> Shh... ::she pets his arm:: It's okay. It will get better, I promise. * Orlann takes his things absently. "No... no, I don't think it will..." <Tarri> ::nods:: I know. I said the same thing. And now I sleep through almost every night. It won't be easy, and it won't be soon, and it won't ever be *right* again, but it'll get *better*. * Orlann rubs at his face with one hand. "If you say..." He shudders, then, almost silently, starts to weep. * Tarri hesitates a moment, then carefully puts her arms around him. * Orlann clings to her, sobbing helplessly against her neck, his fingers tightening on her shoulders. * Tarri rocks slowly and murmurs soothingly. * Orlann calms slowly and pulls back from her. "I'm... sorry." <Tarri> Don't be. By the Mother, after all you've been through... ::she shakes her head and gives him a tiny smile:: Drink the rest of your tea. * Orlann nods and recovers the mug. "Yes'm." <Tarri> Good. Can you walk back into town, do you think, or do you want to bunk here tonight? <Orlann> No, I... ::reaches out and takes hold of her wrist:: I can walk... <Tarri> ::nods:: It's not far. I live pretty close to the gate. Just let me straighten up and leave a note for Master Bran so he won't fret when he gets back from seeing Mister Olden. * Orlann nods. He doesn't *quite* hover around her while she finishes her chores, but his eyes never stray from her the entire time. * Tarri dashes through the house, cleaning up and putting away. She puts some dirty dishes in the sink, but doesn't bother washing them before fishing out a piece of linen and a charcoal pencil and jotting a quick, fairly opaque note to Bran. * Orlann uses the other cane to pull himself to his feet. He considers his sword with a sigh. <Tarri> ::gives him a quick smile:: If it's not beneath your sword's dignity, I have a very nice whetstone and oilcloth that I use for my kitchen knives. <Orlann> ::almost smiles:: No more so than dragging my sorry self through the woods was... My father will forgive me, I hope. * Tarri shuts the door and folds her cape over one arm. "I'm sure he will. Special circumstances." * Orlann scrubs his face with one hand, then turns to follow Tarri. * Tarri eyes his walk critically for a few steps, then leads him toward town. "Tell me about him." <Orlann> My father? <Tarri> ::nods:: You told me he was a hired sword, but that's not very specific. I know a lot of people, right here in Marsember, who could be described that way, and they're all... *completely* different. <Orlann> His name was Jorrel, son of Meltan... He was darker skinned than I am... and taller... <Tarri> ::looking up at him:: *Very* tall. Where was he from? <Orlann> Chult... ::he shrugs:: His mother was a slave woman in one of the temples there, I understand. He never said much about it. When he was a boy, some adventurers raided the temple, to rescue a slave that was their friend. One of them... ::his mouth twitches:: felt sorry for him and they took him with them. <Tarri> ::shivers:: That's awful. I'm glad he got out. <Orlann> ::nods:: My father went to live with the family of the swordman who rescued him. Later, he returned to the island, when he was old enough... and he took the sword from his father's body... ::he shudders a moment:: <Tarri> ::frowns, then all of a sudden understands and shivers again:: <Orlann> He hired out his sword arm for a few years, and then met my mother... We traveled a lot, when I was a child... I think I told you that, didn't I? <Tarri> ::nods:: How'd he meet your mother? <Orlann> As I heard tell... he happened across a tribe of gnolls that had cut off the horn of a unicorn... they attacked him, and he beat them off, and stole the horn. It was still fresh blood, on the horn, and he went to look for the unicorn, to see if he could help it. And he met my mother there, it was her woods, and she was already at the beast's side. Mother tells me she almost killed my father, before he could explain... <Tarri> ::laughs softly:: <Orlann> He was always like that... wanting to help... even as a mercenary, he wouldn't take jobs that he thought would hurt good people... <Tarri> He sounds like a good man... Did they save the unicorn? <Orlann> ::nods:: I met him, once... a fine, strong beast.. <Tarri> ::delighted:: Really? How wonderful! <Orlann> He... died when I was twelve, protecting the village from nest of wyverns... the brood mother stung him. They're deadly poisonous. ::he sighs:: He managed to kill the thing, before he succumbed, but we couldn't do anything to save him. My mother just knew... even though he was married to someone else by then, she came all that way, to honor him. <Tarri> Oh... That's sad... ::she shivers and pulls her cloak on:: Why... Why did he marry someone else? <Orlann> Mother... she was always a little strange... and as her powers grew, and she grew closer to her glade of trees, she got... really strange. She spent more time as an animal than as a woman... Father didn't like it... they argued a lot, and Father left. <Tarri> ::nods slowly:: I guess it could be worse... ::she looks up as they pass through Marsember's gates, and she stops to introduce Orlann to the two guards on duty. She's gotten to know most of them, it seems, in her time with Master Bran:: <Orlann> She told me, once, after he died, that he just... loved too much. He didn't want to share her with her duties... <Tarri> ::nods:: I've heard that before, from healers... Mostly women. <Tarri> ::half-smiling:: Though most of them weren't so understanding about it. <Orlann> ::shrugs:: I don't know... don't really understand... I'd have rather seen her some, than not at all... but I... <Tarri> But what? <Orlann> ::shrugs:: I... I can't know what it was like, for him. I never had a wife, so maybe it's not fair of me to complain. <Tarri> Mm. ::she turns a corner:: And you're not your father, so maybe it wouldn't bother you as much as it bothered him. * Orlann shrugs again. "Mother still comes to see me, sometimes. She stayed a few months, summer before last. I'll have to tell her... they... the orcs cut down her trees. The ones she planted for my father's grave." <Tarri> Oh... ::sighs:: They didn't leave you much, did they...? Will- Will she be able to find you, if you're not there? <Orlann> I may... when I'm better, I may go to her. Later. <Tarri> ::nods:: That would be good. ::she walks in silence for a bit, then turns to climb the stairs to her apartment.:: * Orlann tucks his cane under his arm to haul himself up the stairs using the rail. <Tarri> ::winces:: Sorry. I forgot about the stairs... ::she fishes in her pocket for a key and unlocks the door. Tarri's apartment is very small, very neat, and smells of strawberries:: <Orlann> ::huffs a little:: S'not that bad, miss Tarri... * Tarri does not look convinced, but lets him recover as she bustles around doing home-coming things - lighting lamps and stoking the fire in her tiny stove. * Orlann finds the tiny sofa and collapses onto it with a sigh, his pale eyes watching Tarri as she moves through her domestic chores. * Tarri puts some soup on top of the stove to simmer, then fishes in a drawer. She comes back to sit on the other side of the couch, offering Orlann a whetstone and cloth. * Orlann nods his thanks, then begins to clean his blades, wiping off the chunks of sod, before working out the nicks in the edge. * Orlann glances up at her from over his sword. "What are your parents like, Miss Tarri? You keep letting me run my mouth, an' I don't know much about *you*." <Tarri> ::shrugs, watching his hands on the blade:: It's not very interesting. My papa's a moneylender, and my mama was the daughter of a chef, from Suzail. They moved to Khymrych before I was born. * Orlann blinks. "Khymrych?" <Tarri> ::nods:: That's the town where I was born. It's about... a week's walk from here, to the northwest. <Orlann> ::nods slowly:: I think... I think I heard of it. Last fall, some wild-eyed priest came through, looking for family of some woman named Nashla, or something like that. <Tarri> Nacheyla. ::she grins:: Father Rook. I never met him, but I heard an awful lot about him. <Orlann> ::blinks again:: Like the *barkeeper*? <Tarri> Um... ::she grins sheepishly:: Yeah. Exactly like the barkeeper. It's kind of weird... * Orlann nods and looks back at his blade. <Tarri> If you want, next time she's 'tending, we'll go over and you can ask her about it. * Orlann shrugs. "Maybe... I..." He looks up at her hesitantly. "You're not cross with me, for going out when you said I shouldn't?" This appears to have been bothering him for a while. <Tarri> ::looks at him for a while, apparently considering it. Finally, she sighs and shrugs:: I should've known you'd go, given a chance. And it looks like you've taken more punishment from it than any scolding *I* could ever give. So... Not this time. ::she gives him another faint smile:: I'll be mad at Lisl, who should have known better. <Orlann> That eases my mind some... ::he doesn't look at her:: I... don't have much of m'own, but I'd like to keep your good opinion. <Tarri> ::blushes a little:: Even if I was mad at you for it, Corporal... ::she shrugs:: It'd pass. Papa says everyone does some damnfool things from time to time. What's important is what you do about it, afterward. <Tarri> ::murmuring:: 'Course, he always said that *after* tanning my hide... <Orlann> ::almost smiles:: Father's privilege... <Tarri> ::grins:: And I was a *terrible* child. <Orlann> ::murmurs:: I'm not surprised... <Tarri> ::laughs and puts on a mock-offended face:: And I suppose you were a model of perfection? <Orlann> ::solemnly:: Absolutely... <Tarri> ::in her best scolding-mother voice:: Don't lie to me, young man, or you won't get any dessert. <Orlann> ::snorts:: Yes, ma'am... ::he ducks his head:: I'm bad... terrible... awful... beyond redemption... <Tarri> ::laughs:: Not *quite* beyond redemption, I hope... <Orlann> S'what Mother used to say, when I'd gotten into a mess... 'Lani-boy, you are *beyond* redemption.' <Tarri> ::grins:: Well, far be it from me to disagree with such a wise and exalted authority. * Orlann looks at Tarri, studying her face and smile. "Thank you..." <Tarri> ::reaches over and touches his face briefly:: You're welcome. * Orlann closes his eyes and leans into her fingers. <Tarri> ::looks at him for a moment, then gets up and heads into the kitchen, slightly flustered, muttering something about the soup:: <Orlann> It smells good... * Tarri messes around doing nothing in particular until her blush fades, then fills two bowls and brings them back out along with several slices of bread. "I don't know that it's as good as Master Altain's, but I think *he* cheats." * Orlann hesitates, then eats his soup with surprising appetite. <Tarri> ::watches critically to make sure he's eating before starting on her own.:: There's more in the kitchen, if you're still hungry. * Orlann nods, chasing another spoonful of soup with a piece of bread. "Thank you, miss." |
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