"Like I got shot but a fragging crossbow bolt...," Khaylan growled, glaring at the book as though he could will it into combusting. When it didn't he grunted in annoyance, making a note to enquire how long the village had been hiding a witch.
Khaylan shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like the healer was scrutinizing him down to his very soul. He forced himself to calm down, focusing his mind elsewhere and trying to see if he could feel anything like what Miranda had described. He frowned slightly feeling a prickling sensation run up and down his neck.
"I feel... I don't know... watched," he said, his eyes snapping open, "though that isnt exactly abnormal for me..."
The healer did not look satisfied by his answer, and so Khaylan attempted to press deeper, lowering his instinctive defenses against anything that could cloud his mind. Only then did he begin to feel it. A presence, like someone looking over his shoulder, pressed so close it was almost suffocating when he realised it. He felt like part of his soul was dragged out behind him, leaving a long line out to... where?
"I feel like there's someone else here," Khaylan said, struggling to find the appropriate words, "someone only I can sense, who's got ahold of part of my soul and the rest of me is just wandering about, stretching it out."
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I hate if when that happens lol. No worries, go ahead and tale your time
Khaylan shifted nervously on his feet, putting a hand on the doorframe to brace himself. He took a deep breath to calm himself as the healer's words hit him. Could it really be related? He glanced towards Miranda, nodding slowly, the beginnings of comprehension forming within his mind. He still didn't understand what the curse did, but he began to believe that it affected them both. Why her though? Why would the witch involve another person in her revenge? And out of all the available options, why Miranda, a woman with whom he'd had little but conflict with in the past?
"The pattern flowed towards me, then over my skin. I'd thought the witch was just trying to kill me, and that perhaps the spell had failed to do so," Khaylan said, his voice growing shaky, "why it involves her is beyond me. I am the one the witch has a vendetta with."
He looked towards the healer, desperate for answers. "Do you know something about this kind of spell?," Khaylan asked, fighting hard to keep the fear out of his voice.
"The pattern flowed towards me, then over my skin. I'd thought the witch was just trying to kill me, and that perhaps the spell had failed to do so," Khaylan said, his voice growing shaky, "why it involves her is beyond me. I am the one the witch has a vendetta with."
He looked towards the healer, desperate for answers. "Do you know something about this kind of spell?," Khaylan asked, fighting hard to keep the fear out of his voice.
Khaylan nodded along with the healer's words. One with the same injuries as him? He discarded the idea as pure coincidence... or perhaps the healer was generalizing. Surely their couldn't be two people in the same village, who happened to take a crossbow bolt to the shoulder... within hours of each other. Still, he had this nagging feeling that crept along the back of his neck that there was more going on here than he truly understood.
Despite the healer's instructions he tried to rise twice more, almost making it to his feet each time before a wave of nausea and had him reaching for the edge of the bed to turn his fall into a more controlled lowering of his body. His mind felt fuzzy, an almost warm swimming sensation buzzing at the base of his brain. He wondered if perhaps the healer had drugged him because of the pain. He looked over at the clay pot, wondering if it was more drugs, or if perhaps it would help dispel the fog that seemed to lay over his mind like a heavy blanket. Hesitantly, he took the drink in hand, sniffing at it cautiously.
The concoction smelled awful, but it didn't smell anything like what Khaylan expected a poison to smell like. Besides, why fix up his shoulder just to kill him with poison? He took a sip of the drink, choking back bile as the horrid tasting substance slid down his throat. "Dirt... with more than a hint of sour beer. At least the woman knows her tastes," Khaylan muttered, keeping his tongue flat against the bottom of his mouth as he swallowed more, trying to get the substance down his throat without touching his tongue. When he finished the drink, he took a few deep breaths... and tried to stand once more.
He made it to his feet this time, although his balance was about the same as a man who had drunk a gallon of alcohol in only a few minutes. He reached out one hand and braced himself against the wall of the hut, half-feeling his way along to the door that led into the adjoining room. He could hear voices on the other side... perhaps his brother knights? The only way to know for certain was to emerge, and hopefully they could leave this whole event behind them.
His free hand seized the door, opening it slowly and carefully as he stumbled through. "I need a hor-," he began, but interrupted himself when he noted the occupants of the other room. He blinked several times in surprise, as though not sure what he was seeing was real. Why would Miranda be here?
Despite the healer's instructions he tried to rise twice more, almost making it to his feet each time before a wave of nausea and had him reaching for the edge of the bed to turn his fall into a more controlled lowering of his body. His mind felt fuzzy, an almost warm swimming sensation buzzing at the base of his brain. He wondered if perhaps the healer had drugged him because of the pain. He looked over at the clay pot, wondering if it was more drugs, or if perhaps it would help dispel the fog that seemed to lay over his mind like a heavy blanket. Hesitantly, he took the drink in hand, sniffing at it cautiously.
The concoction smelled awful, but it didn't smell anything like what Khaylan expected a poison to smell like. Besides, why fix up his shoulder just to kill him with poison? He took a sip of the drink, choking back bile as the horrid tasting substance slid down his throat. "Dirt... with more than a hint of sour beer. At least the woman knows her tastes," Khaylan muttered, keeping his tongue flat against the bottom of his mouth as he swallowed more, trying to get the substance down his throat without touching his tongue. When he finished the drink, he took a few deep breaths... and tried to stand once more.
He made it to his feet this time, although his balance was about the same as a man who had drunk a gallon of alcohol in only a few minutes. He reached out one hand and braced himself against the wall of the hut, half-feeling his way along to the door that led into the adjoining room. He could hear voices on the other side... perhaps his brother knights? The only way to know for certain was to emerge, and hopefully they could leave this whole event behind them.
His free hand seized the door, opening it slowly and carefully as he stumbled through. "I need a hor-," he began, but interrupted himself when he noted the occupants of the other room. He blinked several times in surprise, as though not sure what he was seeing was real. Why would Miranda be here?
Khaylan attempted to wave away the healer, but whether from his own exhaustion or some such tale magic, the pressure of her hand on his chest felt as unmoveable as a mountain, and he was half pushed and half lowered back onto the bed. After a few moments, he felt a damp cloth being g pressed to his forehead, a shiver passing through his body. "I'm fine...," he protested, trying in vain to sound commanding.
He wondered of the gods were punishing him somehow. What a strange coincidence that the witch just happened to find him, and then not twenty minutes later he was attacked by a gang of theives and very nearly killed. And to think, this was supposed to be such a good day for him.
He muttered curses under his breath, giving up on trying to rise for now as the healer tended to his wounds. His shoulder ached, but he found that he could move it, even though the effort caused him great pain. If he could only find his sword...
He heard more voices coming from elsewhere in the house. "Who else is here?," he asked, "and how did I get here?
He wondered of the gods were punishing him somehow. What a strange coincidence that the witch just happened to find him, and then not twenty minutes later he was attacked by a gang of theives and very nearly killed. And to think, this was supposed to be such a good day for him.
He muttered curses under his breath, giving up on trying to rise for now as the healer tended to his wounds. His shoulder ached, but he found that he could move it, even though the effort caused him great pain. If he could only find his sword...
He heard more voices coming from elsewhere in the house. "Who else is here?," he asked, "and how did I get here?
Not great, inter webs was malfunctioning for a time. I think I've got it fixed enough to check up on the collab post though
Leon groaned in pain and grogginess, his head swimming, though from what, he couldn't really say. He realized quickly that he was lying in an unfamiliar bed, the armor and clothing on his chest and arms having been stripped away and piled neatly on a chair next to the bed. Thick, itchy bandages, soaked with a mixture of his blood and something that smelled of herbs covered his shoulder and the upper part of his chest where the crossbow bolt had struck him. He rose to a sitting position, the effort alone nearly spilling him to the floor as his arm protested against the amount of weight he had placed on it.
The first thought that came to his mind was that he was still alive, an odd prospect, but a welcome one. His last memories were of a skirmish in the village, and a piercing pain that almost made him wish he was dead. His second thought as the memories returned were that he was not where he was supposed to be. The room around him stank of foreign herbs and sterile bandages, not the smoke and sweat of home. Still, he thought to himself, it was clear that someone had tried to heal him at least, based on the now bandaged shoulder, though what they wanted in return made him was what worried him. He idly wondered what had happened to his brother knights who had been with him, and he muttered a curse under his breath. It was likely that they followed the laws of chivalry far enough to deposit their comrade in this hut, but were now on their way to spread rumors of the knowledge they had gained about Khaylan.
"Damn witches...", Khaylan said, a little bit louder. He reached for his bloodstained shirt, the effort once more threatening to topple him from the bed, but he gritted his teeth and pushed past the sensation, throwing the garment on over his head. He took several deep breaths, steeling himself for the task of standing up. He needed to get back to his brothers, to quiet the rumors and then lead a purge of this witch whom had dared to attack him. He hesitated as he finally gathered the energy though, realizing that he was not alone within the small hut.
The first thought that came to his mind was that he was still alive, an odd prospect, but a welcome one. His last memories were of a skirmish in the village, and a piercing pain that almost made him wish he was dead. His second thought as the memories returned were that he was not where he was supposed to be. The room around him stank of foreign herbs and sterile bandages, not the smoke and sweat of home. Still, he thought to himself, it was clear that someone had tried to heal him at least, based on the now bandaged shoulder, though what they wanted in return made him was what worried him. He idly wondered what had happened to his brother knights who had been with him, and he muttered a curse under his breath. It was likely that they followed the laws of chivalry far enough to deposit their comrade in this hut, but were now on their way to spread rumors of the knowledge they had gained about Khaylan.
"Damn witches...", Khaylan said, a little bit louder. He reached for his bloodstained shirt, the effort once more threatening to topple him from the bed, but he gritted his teeth and pushed past the sensation, throwing the garment on over his head. He took several deep breaths, steeling himself for the task of standing up. He needed to get back to his brothers, to quiet the rumors and then lead a purge of this witch whom had dared to attack him. He hesitated as he finally gathered the energy though, realizing that he was not alone within the small hut.
What did you want to happen next?
Still interested?
So I have two ideas for the knights reactions, which is why I didn't include it in my post. Do you think the knights should leave khaylan behind so he's forced to ask Miranda for help? Or should they transport khaylan to a healer? Or transport khaylan and Miranda?
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