Mountains loomed in the distance as the small group made its way to its destination. With every mile covered, the air began to chill until snow started to fall lightly from the sky, sparkling as it caught the gleam of the sun shining weakly hidden behind thin wisps of clouds. The wheels of the prison wagon squeaked with every turn, it had done so for as long as Severus was conscripted. There wasn't many of them, and very few were good company, let alone in a talking mood. There was 5 of them shackled and chained in the wagon, with only a few volunteers walking alongside. At the front sat Oren, resting with a few satchels of supplies he had used to keep them all fed and watered as the horses trod familiar ground, barely needing guided back home.
"Fuck this cold." A dark skin man grumbled in the corner of the cart as the wind whipped up the falling snowflakes and brushed it harshly against their cheeks. Severus simply wrapped his thin cloak around him tighter to ward off the worst of the weather. "I'd get used to it if I were you." Oren piped up, not even turning his head to look at the man. "If you hadn't have insisted on raiding caravans outside Bael-rath, you'd probably still be there soaking up the sunshine." The man looked pleased at the memory of his antics, and fell silent as he thought of fonder days in his life.
"Here we are."
As the light mists began to part, Karuzgard came into the view. The mountain fortress was as impressive as in the stories, carved into the very mountain rock by the Dwarves of old. Fires burned against the cold on the parapets, and even from this distance Severus could spot the sentries on duty. As the others in the cage moved and twisted to see, he remained unmoved. As they approached, a horn rang out and the huge stone gates began to slowly open, flanked either side with huge statues of dwarves, one wielding a hammer and the other axe and shield. As soon as the cart passed under it, the doors began to shut, operated by an intricate pulley system that remained unseen. Coming to a halt, Oren hopped down off the cart and went to the rear, unlocking the cage.
One by one they moved closer, stopping only to let Oren remove their chains and manacles. Moving his wrist in a circle when free, Severus joined the others. Locking the cage behind him, Oren then hopped back onto the cart, only so they could all see him though. "Welcome to Karuzgard. There will be more to tell you but it's been a long road and I'm sure you all would prefer to rest a bit rather than listen to our rules and laws."
"What I will say is this, for some of you there is no going back. Your old life, your family, is gone. The Order is your life now, your fellows your brothers and sisters. Work hard, dedicate yourself, and you'll find you will come to view this place as your home, as I have." Oren said sincerely, in a tone that seemed sincere and true. Above them along the gallery several members watched down with curiosity to see the newest recruits. "Today you can relax, get to know one another and I'll see to it that food and ale are brought down to you. Tomorrow there will be a melee to see how skilled you are at combat, so we know where we stand on your training . Come on."
Hopping down off his cart, Oren led them off into a side passage to the right of a set of huge iron reinforced gates. Down into the earth they descended, the way lit with torches resting on sconces in the walls. Two floors down and after several twists and turns, the group arrived at another large oak door, a stone motif resting above it depicting three crossed arrows. Oren threw open the doors and the lot of them filled in behind. They entered into a open common room, tables with cards on the right side along with some bookcases that ran the full height of the room, stacked with books and a ladder to reach up high. On the left was a large fireplace, a fire roaring within and filling the room with a bright orange glow. Several pipes could be spotted inside, used to take the smoke and pass it through to outside the mountain. Comfortable armchairs and sofas littered the area, along with a few end tables. Torches lined the walls with banners depicting the same three arrows, woven in silver thread on a grey background, while above them a chandelier dominated the ceiling. At the far end of the room was another smaller door, leading off to the bedrooms.
"Welcome to the Silver Arrows. Make yourselves comfortable and go pick out your chambers." Oren exclaimed, turning back with his arms outstretched. "Dont wander, these tunnels run deep, and I don't want to hear about an Initiate dying in the depths from thirst and starvation."
"Tomorrow after we see how skilled you are, I'll see to it that you've clean clothes. Then we can get to work." He finished, pushing past them and pulling the doors shut behind them. "Get some rest. You'll be kept busy soon enough."
"Fuck this cold." A dark skin man grumbled in the corner of the cart as the wind whipped up the falling snowflakes and brushed it harshly against their cheeks. Severus simply wrapped his thin cloak around him tighter to ward off the worst of the weather. "I'd get used to it if I were you." Oren piped up, not even turning his head to look at the man. "If you hadn't have insisted on raiding caravans outside Bael-rath, you'd probably still be there soaking up the sunshine." The man looked pleased at the memory of his antics, and fell silent as he thought of fonder days in his life.
"Here we are."
As the light mists began to part, Karuzgard came into the view. The mountain fortress was as impressive as in the stories, carved into the very mountain rock by the Dwarves of old. Fires burned against the cold on the parapets, and even from this distance Severus could spot the sentries on duty. As the others in the cage moved and twisted to see, he remained unmoved. As they approached, a horn rang out and the huge stone gates began to slowly open, flanked either side with huge statues of dwarves, one wielding a hammer and the other axe and shield. As soon as the cart passed under it, the doors began to shut, operated by an intricate pulley system that remained unseen. Coming to a halt, Oren hopped down off the cart and went to the rear, unlocking the cage.
One by one they moved closer, stopping only to let Oren remove their chains and manacles. Moving his wrist in a circle when free, Severus joined the others. Locking the cage behind him, Oren then hopped back onto the cart, only so they could all see him though. "Welcome to Karuzgard. There will be more to tell you but it's been a long road and I'm sure you all would prefer to rest a bit rather than listen to our rules and laws."
"What I will say is this, for some of you there is no going back. Your old life, your family, is gone. The Order is your life now, your fellows your brothers and sisters. Work hard, dedicate yourself, and you'll find you will come to view this place as your home, as I have." Oren said sincerely, in a tone that seemed sincere and true. Above them along the gallery several members watched down with curiosity to see the newest recruits. "Today you can relax, get to know one another and I'll see to it that food and ale are brought down to you. Tomorrow there will be a melee to see how skilled you are at combat, so we know where we stand on your training . Come on."
Hopping down off his cart, Oren led them off into a side passage to the right of a set of huge iron reinforced gates. Down into the earth they descended, the way lit with torches resting on sconces in the walls. Two floors down and after several twists and turns, the group arrived at another large oak door, a stone motif resting above it depicting three crossed arrows. Oren threw open the doors and the lot of them filled in behind. They entered into a open common room, tables with cards on the right side along with some bookcases that ran the full height of the room, stacked with books and a ladder to reach up high. On the left was a large fireplace, a fire roaring within and filling the room with a bright orange glow. Several pipes could be spotted inside, used to take the smoke and pass it through to outside the mountain. Comfortable armchairs and sofas littered the area, along with a few end tables. Torches lined the walls with banners depicting the same three arrows, woven in silver thread on a grey background, while above them a chandelier dominated the ceiling. At the far end of the room was another smaller door, leading off to the bedrooms.
"Welcome to the Silver Arrows. Make yourselves comfortable and go pick out your chambers." Oren exclaimed, turning back with his arms outstretched. "Dont wander, these tunnels run deep, and I don't want to hear about an Initiate dying in the depths from thirst and starvation."
"Tomorrow after we see how skilled you are, I'll see to it that you've clean clothes. Then we can get to work." He finished, pushing past them and pulling the doors shut behind them. "Get some rest. You'll be kept busy soon enough."
As he feels the temperatures drop, Rye slips another leaf he plucked on their journey up the mountain in between the manacles and his wrist. He's had enough manacles around his wrists in his life to know the cold will cause him irritation when his skin warms up again. If his skin warms up again. He pulls his knees to his chest for some warmth.
He listens to the other men on the cart talk about what to expect. This tanned man with the silver streaks in his hair seems to know better than the other. Is it really going to be that cold, all the time in Karuzgard? Not much can grow in this kind of cold. He thinks with disappointment, and lets his thoughts wander to his garden, resting his forehead on his knees for the rest of the journey.
The hall of the Silver Arrows overwhelms him. Mostly he's thinking about how he'd reach the top of the bookshelves when he's asked to clean them. That chandelier will also be a nightmare.
"...and go pick out your chambers." Rye hears Oren exclaim. He has not been listening as closely as he should be, and now Oren is done talking, and Rye is confused.
"Wait." His head still down, dark curly hair covering his eyes, he reaches to his left and gently tugs on the sleeve of another initiate next to him. His voice is quiet, and gentle. "We get a chamber? Get comfortable? I can...sit? On that sofa? As in...this stuff, is for us?"
He listens to the other men on the cart talk about what to expect. This tanned man with the silver streaks in his hair seems to know better than the other. Is it really going to be that cold, all the time in Karuzgard? Not much can grow in this kind of cold. He thinks with disappointment, and lets his thoughts wander to his garden, resting his forehead on his knees for the rest of the journey.
The hall of the Silver Arrows overwhelms him. Mostly he's thinking about how he'd reach the top of the bookshelves when he's asked to clean them. That chandelier will also be a nightmare.
"...and go pick out your chambers." Rye hears Oren exclaim. He has not been listening as closely as he should be, and now Oren is done talking, and Rye is confused.
"Wait." His head still down, dark curly hair covering his eyes, he reaches to his left and gently tugs on the sleeve of another initiate next to him. His voice is quiet, and gentle. "We get a chamber? Get comfortable? I can...sit? On that sofa? As in...this stuff, is for us?"
Nour was among those inside the prison wagon, as conspired by what she felt like was the Fates deciding that she had spent too long without some manner of shackling. Captured alongside the man who had raided the caravans outside of Bael-rath, she had instead been in the wrong place at the 'right' time, perspective depending. Fiercely protective of her freedom and the threat that she had seen posed against it, her fate had been sealed by the woman's shifting into the form of a leopard, all spotted fur and vicious teeth and claws. Knocked unconscious by the butt of a spear to one eye, she had returned to her original shape, and bound with iron.
Drugged just enough to keep the edge off to make shifting difficult for the duration of the journey proper, she had spent most of the journey thus far wrapped in a coarse blanket, eyes shut, head lolling against the bars. The cold also did quite the job of numbing the fringes of her senses. Opening her eyes when the wagon finally rattled to a halt, she winced as she forced her bruised and swollen eye open, she let herself be escorted into the chambers.
Pulling the coarse blanket further around her shoulders, her eyes narrowed a little at the recruitment speech. Well, it was better than prison, she reasoned. Willing to give it a chance. Surprise shown on her features at the presentation of rooms and what was definitely something close to luxury, by her mind, although it did not take long for her to move towards the fire. Not so close as to sear but enough to begin working the warmth gradually through her lips.
Eyeing those who had also come in then and listening intently to their responses.
Drugged just enough to keep the edge off to make shifting difficult for the duration of the journey proper, she had spent most of the journey thus far wrapped in a coarse blanket, eyes shut, head lolling against the bars. The cold also did quite the job of numbing the fringes of her senses. Opening her eyes when the wagon finally rattled to a halt, she winced as she forced her bruised and swollen eye open, she let herself be escorted into the chambers.
Pulling the coarse blanket further around her shoulders, her eyes narrowed a little at the recruitment speech. Well, it was better than prison, she reasoned. Willing to give it a chance. Surprise shown on her features at the presentation of rooms and what was definitely something close to luxury, by her mind, although it did not take long for her to move towards the fire. Not so close as to sear but enough to begin working the warmth gradually through her lips.
Eyeing those who had also come in then and listening intently to their responses.
Elanir had volunteered. He had to find some means of survival in the human world and turning to any form of criminal activity was not what he would consider survival, stupidity, yes. Even among his own people the Elvether, crime was severely punished, nevertheless, crime was indeed rare and only those who had ill minds would act against their elders and tribe.
For most of the journey, his thoughts lay on Lamathria, the Elvether winter sanctuary where all gathered to take shelter and celebrate the season of Gevius their deity, as well as socialise with other Elvether tribes, bless infants, arrange marriages, make trade deals, and so on. He felt a soft sigh escape his cold lips that formed a delicate mist but swiftly dispersed.
He had walked by the side of the cart but at a perch length, the smell of the prisoners in the cage had been a little pungent, it could have been a tumbrel full of crap in his opinion. He was well wrapped in a cony-lined thick wool cloak, his hood up to cover his head against the elements and to conceal his long black silken hair and ears though his face bore the Glas pigment used by his kith to conceal themselves in the woods and as a testimonial to their deity, the stain would not be easily removed for several months, and as soon as it began to fade he would apply some more but in a different pattern.
His train-oiled leather boots were well adapted to the wetter regions but his light leather armour was not and so the cloak kept most of his body heat from escaping. He ruminated on one of the old poems he learned as a youth when the tribe migrated from one camp to another in their nomadic tradition, it brought a little cheer to his disposition.
Li’ath e, erer a thania, a me a herele. Huma narath, huma nara charao.
Corri’ a ha mane’ be an ha lea henereth. Chum in’ aei a leth, chum in’aei a leth.
Cara' ma athala eathi, merema. Ormi huma narath, huma nara charao.
His mind wandered to the great mountains that swept the mists over the tall dark spiny trees, engulfing the sacred woodlands of Eruthian where they dwelt in secret. Another sigh, another misty breath. He and his brother, Jarinc, would hunt birds by concealing themselves in the crown of the trees and silently wait as the mists drew in. The qualla was a large bird that roosted in the forest throughout the year and was part of the Elvether diet, particularly in the colder seasons when fresh greens were scarce and they had to rely on their dried wild grains, roots, and game.
It was the voice of the human male that tore him from these fond memories as they approached Karuzgard. Everything seemed to go swiftly and soon he found himself in a hall. He had listened to what was instructed but remained silent. He wasn’t too pleased he would be confined to the company of these scoundrels but there was little he could do about it, he had volunteered and he kept his mind open as to what lay before him.
Bugger! I’ve got to share with this lot? I hope they bathe soon. He kept all his thoughts private, for now. His startling green glance swept over the room, making note of its design, he wasn’t impressed, it was far from what he was used to but it was shelter, warmth, and possible comfort if he allowed himself to grow used to it, he would need to if he was staying there for a while, a long while, possibly the rest of his life. What a gloomy thought.
Silver arrows, quaint, he reflected. You couldn’t actually make arrows from silver, the metal was too brittle, even a rod of solid silver wouldn’t take the strain of being fired from a light bow, it would bend and crack once it hit the target. His own black laburnum longbow had a draw weight of 70lbs, his arrows were made from the best ash wood and their draw length was 38 inches, perfect for the longbow. The fletchings were made from swan feathers, the length added that extra distance the arrow would fly and the arrow heads were from steel with a suitable weight for impact and piercing damage.
He kept his hood up as his eyes swept around the room again, he didn’t really wish to look at the others. He caught himself sniffing and grunted in discontent. As he strode forward, he avoided them and sought out a bed chamber that had an air flue.
For most of the journey, his thoughts lay on Lamathria, the Elvether winter sanctuary where all gathered to take shelter and celebrate the season of Gevius their deity, as well as socialise with other Elvether tribes, bless infants, arrange marriages, make trade deals, and so on. He felt a soft sigh escape his cold lips that formed a delicate mist but swiftly dispersed.
He had walked by the side of the cart but at a perch length, the smell of the prisoners in the cage had been a little pungent, it could have been a tumbrel full of crap in his opinion. He was well wrapped in a cony-lined thick wool cloak, his hood up to cover his head against the elements and to conceal his long black silken hair and ears though his face bore the Glas pigment used by his kith to conceal themselves in the woods and as a testimonial to their deity, the stain would not be easily removed for several months, and as soon as it began to fade he would apply some more but in a different pattern.
His train-oiled leather boots were well adapted to the wetter regions but his light leather armour was not and so the cloak kept most of his body heat from escaping. He ruminated on one of the old poems he learned as a youth when the tribe migrated from one camp to another in their nomadic tradition, it brought a little cheer to his disposition.
Li’ath e, erer a thania, a me a herele. Huma narath, huma nara charao.
Corri’ a ha mane’ be an ha lea henereth. Chum in’ aei a leth, chum in’aei a leth.
Cara' ma athala eathi, merema. Ormi huma narath, huma nara charao.
His mind wandered to the great mountains that swept the mists over the tall dark spiny trees, engulfing the sacred woodlands of Eruthian where they dwelt in secret. Another sigh, another misty breath. He and his brother, Jarinc, would hunt birds by concealing themselves in the crown of the trees and silently wait as the mists drew in. The qualla was a large bird that roosted in the forest throughout the year and was part of the Elvether diet, particularly in the colder seasons when fresh greens were scarce and they had to rely on their dried wild grains, roots, and game.
It was the voice of the human male that tore him from these fond memories as they approached Karuzgard. Everything seemed to go swiftly and soon he found himself in a hall. He had listened to what was instructed but remained silent. He wasn’t too pleased he would be confined to the company of these scoundrels but there was little he could do about it, he had volunteered and he kept his mind open as to what lay before him.
Bugger! I’ve got to share with this lot? I hope they bathe soon. He kept all his thoughts private, for now. His startling green glance swept over the room, making note of its design, he wasn’t impressed, it was far from what he was used to but it was shelter, warmth, and possible comfort if he allowed himself to grow used to it, he would need to if he was staying there for a while, a long while, possibly the rest of his life. What a gloomy thought.
Silver arrows, quaint, he reflected. You couldn’t actually make arrows from silver, the metal was too brittle, even a rod of solid silver wouldn’t take the strain of being fired from a light bow, it would bend and crack once it hit the target. His own black laburnum longbow had a draw weight of 70lbs, his arrows were made from the best ash wood and their draw length was 38 inches, perfect for the longbow. The fletchings were made from swan feathers, the length added that extra distance the arrow would fly and the arrow heads were from steel with a suitable weight for impact and piercing damage.
He kept his hood up as his eyes swept around the room again, he didn’t really wish to look at the others. He caught himself sniffing and grunted in discontent. As he strode forward, he avoided them and sought out a bed chamber that had an air flue.
Among the volunteers walking alongside the wagon, was expectant mother and archer Ashley Maundrel. This has probably the longest she's been on her feet, at least while pregnant. For the most part, Ashley was pretty unbothered by the decreasing temperature and the eventual descent of snow after they had crossed the mountains now long behind them. One perk of being pregnant was the extra body heat that she generated as a result of the increased blood volume. In warmer climates, she would normally find it agitating. But in the colder climates? It was nice to have.
Adjusting her quiver and the longbow on her back, Ashley heard one of the men in the wagon comment on the cold, while Oren responded by telling him to get used to it before reminding him why he was in the wagon to begin with. Raiding caravans outside Bael-rath. Coming here to Karuzgard was probably better then wasting away in a city dungeon though. Not to mention having a new purpose in life. That was what Ashley was looking for as well. Of course, her end-goal was to hopefully create a world where her Daughter can grow happily. But first, she was going to do her part in handling the dangers on the horizon that awaited her and everyone else here. As the breeze blew against her ponytail, the light mists began to part and the impressive mountain fortress of Karuzgard was no longer very far away. It looked much more intimidating in person. Nonetheless, the architecture was beautiful, even from a short distance. Once they approached the front gates, Ashley flinched at the sound of the horn, mostly because it had startled her. Wouldn't it be easier to ring a bell or something? She wondered.
Briefly, she looked at the two dwarf statues that greeted them. She admired the craftsmanship, smiling as the cart entered through the gate, then watching as it lowered. The engineering too was very impressive, given how long this fortress had been standing. Literally, it was built into the mountains and survived through the ages. Through the harsh winters, through war...everything. It was certainly a lot to take in for the expectant mother, but this was much more exciting then being coped up in a home and laying in bed all day. Sure, it may have been reckless, she wouldn't deny that, maybe a little selfish...but it was far too late to turn back now. The good surely outweighed the bad in her mind, and she was confident in her Archery to keep enemies at a distance and the other skills under her belt that she is bringing to the table. The doors of the wagon was then unlocked and the prisons disembarked one by one. Their chains and manacles removed...one by one. Then Oren proceeded to give the welcoming speech. As she listened, Ashley felt a kick against her hand. Briefly, she glanced down at her belly, before looking back towards Oren. Mmmm, maybe hold the ale, she thought.
When he said the following day that there would be a melee to see how skilled everyone was at combat to know where they all stood on their training, Ashley's confidence deflated a little. While she was confident in her Archery, she was a completely klutz in melee combat. Even before she got pregnant. Not to mention how reliant she was on her bow. Sure, she carried a dagger for emergencies, but Ashley still wanted to keep her enemies at a distance regardless. To make up for this, Ashley could only hope that she was ready to use her bow when an enemy got too close. But she's never shot an arrow at point-blank range before. This proceeded to weigh on the expectant mother's mind as Oren led them to a side passage through huge iron gates and they began a descent. Thankfully it wasn't all dark, gloom and doom down here. Two flights of stares later and she felt her knees beginning to buckle, having been standing a lot longer then what she's been used to. Maybe she should have just sat in the back by the edge of the wagon, right outside the caged doors. At least a little longer then she had during that whole ride to Karuzgard. After several twists and turns in the dark corridors, they made it to their destination. On the way in, Ashley took a moment to look at the stone motif of the three crossed arrows. Once she fully entered the room, her vision adjusted to the brighter environment. It was an open common room, fully furnished. Tall bookcases, game tables. Not to mention that fireplace that was already lit, leaving her to wonder how long that fire had been lit prior to their arrival. Looking around the room, from the pipes to the sofas and armchairs, Ashley almost immediately felt at home. Like on the motif on the door, there were banners sharing that same three crossed arrows, but they were in a silver thread. Beautiful, she thought. However, that chandelier was pretty intimidating. Briefly, she stared at the small door on the far end. Where does that lead? she wondered. Her train of thought was disrupted once she heard Oren's voice, giving a bit of a welcome to her and the others that had arrived.
Silver Arrows? So that's what the crossed arrows stood for. This was followed by him telling the rest of them to get comfortable and to pick out their chambers...then warning them not to wander as the tunnels ran deep. The thought of dying of starvation and thirst while also lost and alone was enough to deter any thought that Ashley had of going passed the oak doors. After a reminder of what was planned for the day to follow, came the promise of clean clothing. And from there, begin their new lives while leaving the ones they knew...behind. As Oren left the room, Ashley let out a deep breath she had probably been holding since arrival.
As she looked around at her new compatriots, she watched as the hooded elf just walked off towards the small door on the far end. Must have been eager to lay claim on his room. Wanting to do the same, she simply smiled before waddling in the same direction to go find a room to suit her. Given where they were at, hopefully the room she'd end up choosing would have a large window, wanting to have a breathtaking view of the land outside. Feeling another kick from within her swollen belly, she looked down and smiled. "It's alright, sweetie. We're gonna rest now, Mommy's been on her feet for far too long." She mused before opening the door to one of the vacant rooms.
Wasn't much from what Ashley saw, but it'll have to do. After all, it was just her first night here, so she couldn't have a fully personalized bedroom at a place she hasn't even lived for long! As long as the bed was comfortable, she didn't mind. Upon entering the room, she unbuckled her quiver and set it on the table near the window along with the bow and dagger. Even taking off her cardigan as she was in a relatively warm place, shielded from the harsh elements outside, Ashley breathed a sigh of relief. Straightening out her dress though, she proceeded to sit down briefly on the bed to remove her boots and set them by the edge. Felt a lot better now too, her toes especially. But she wasn't about to walk around this place barefoot. Wonder if slippers will be provided amongst the fresh clothing... A bath will probably be in order soon, but right now Ashley just wanted to relax. So after laying claim to her room, Ashley returned to the common area and sat down on the sofa closest to the fireplace. She then closed her eyes, took a deep breath through her nose before opening her eyes once more, glancing briefly into the fire, then down at her belly, cradling it as she smiled.
From there, probably won't be long until one of the other Silver Arrows joined her.
Adjusting her quiver and the longbow on her back, Ashley heard one of the men in the wagon comment on the cold, while Oren responded by telling him to get used to it before reminding him why he was in the wagon to begin with. Raiding caravans outside Bael-rath. Coming here to Karuzgard was probably better then wasting away in a city dungeon though. Not to mention having a new purpose in life. That was what Ashley was looking for as well. Of course, her end-goal was to hopefully create a world where her Daughter can grow happily. But first, she was going to do her part in handling the dangers on the horizon that awaited her and everyone else here. As the breeze blew against her ponytail, the light mists began to part and the impressive mountain fortress of Karuzgard was no longer very far away. It looked much more intimidating in person. Nonetheless, the architecture was beautiful, even from a short distance. Once they approached the front gates, Ashley flinched at the sound of the horn, mostly because it had startled her. Wouldn't it be easier to ring a bell or something? She wondered.
Briefly, she looked at the two dwarf statues that greeted them. She admired the craftsmanship, smiling as the cart entered through the gate, then watching as it lowered. The engineering too was very impressive, given how long this fortress had been standing. Literally, it was built into the mountains and survived through the ages. Through the harsh winters, through war...everything. It was certainly a lot to take in for the expectant mother, but this was much more exciting then being coped up in a home and laying in bed all day. Sure, it may have been reckless, she wouldn't deny that, maybe a little selfish...but it was far too late to turn back now. The good surely outweighed the bad in her mind, and she was confident in her Archery to keep enemies at a distance and the other skills under her belt that she is bringing to the table. The doors of the wagon was then unlocked and the prisons disembarked one by one. Their chains and manacles removed...one by one. Then Oren proceeded to give the welcoming speech. As she listened, Ashley felt a kick against her hand. Briefly, she glanced down at her belly, before looking back towards Oren. Mmmm, maybe hold the ale, she thought.
When he said the following day that there would be a melee to see how skilled everyone was at combat to know where they all stood on their training, Ashley's confidence deflated a little. While she was confident in her Archery, she was a completely klutz in melee combat. Even before she got pregnant. Not to mention how reliant she was on her bow. Sure, she carried a dagger for emergencies, but Ashley still wanted to keep her enemies at a distance regardless. To make up for this, Ashley could only hope that she was ready to use her bow when an enemy got too close. But she's never shot an arrow at point-blank range before. This proceeded to weigh on the expectant mother's mind as Oren led them to a side passage through huge iron gates and they began a descent. Thankfully it wasn't all dark, gloom and doom down here. Two flights of stares later and she felt her knees beginning to buckle, having been standing a lot longer then what she's been used to. Maybe she should have just sat in the back by the edge of the wagon, right outside the caged doors. At least a little longer then she had during that whole ride to Karuzgard. After several twists and turns in the dark corridors, they made it to their destination. On the way in, Ashley took a moment to look at the stone motif of the three crossed arrows. Once she fully entered the room, her vision adjusted to the brighter environment. It was an open common room, fully furnished. Tall bookcases, game tables. Not to mention that fireplace that was already lit, leaving her to wonder how long that fire had been lit prior to their arrival. Looking around the room, from the pipes to the sofas and armchairs, Ashley almost immediately felt at home. Like on the motif on the door, there were banners sharing that same three crossed arrows, but they were in a silver thread. Beautiful, she thought. However, that chandelier was pretty intimidating. Briefly, she stared at the small door on the far end. Where does that lead? she wondered. Her train of thought was disrupted once she heard Oren's voice, giving a bit of a welcome to her and the others that had arrived.
Silver Arrows? So that's what the crossed arrows stood for. This was followed by him telling the rest of them to get comfortable and to pick out their chambers...then warning them not to wander as the tunnels ran deep. The thought of dying of starvation and thirst while also lost and alone was enough to deter any thought that Ashley had of going passed the oak doors. After a reminder of what was planned for the day to follow, came the promise of clean clothing. And from there, begin their new lives while leaving the ones they knew...behind. As Oren left the room, Ashley let out a deep breath she had probably been holding since arrival.
As she looked around at her new compatriots, she watched as the hooded elf just walked off towards the small door on the far end. Must have been eager to lay claim on his room. Wanting to do the same, she simply smiled before waddling in the same direction to go find a room to suit her. Given where they were at, hopefully the room she'd end up choosing would have a large window, wanting to have a breathtaking view of the land outside. Feeling another kick from within her swollen belly, she looked down and smiled. "It's alright, sweetie. We're gonna rest now, Mommy's been on her feet for far too long." She mused before opening the door to one of the vacant rooms.
Wasn't much from what Ashley saw, but it'll have to do. After all, it was just her first night here, so she couldn't have a fully personalized bedroom at a place she hasn't even lived for long! As long as the bed was comfortable, she didn't mind. Upon entering the room, she unbuckled her quiver and set it on the table near the window along with the bow and dagger. Even taking off her cardigan as she was in a relatively warm place, shielded from the harsh elements outside, Ashley breathed a sigh of relief. Straightening out her dress though, she proceeded to sit down briefly on the bed to remove her boots and set them by the edge. Felt a lot better now too, her toes especially. But she wasn't about to walk around this place barefoot. Wonder if slippers will be provided amongst the fresh clothing... A bath will probably be in order soon, but right now Ashley just wanted to relax. So after laying claim to her room, Ashley returned to the common area and sat down on the sofa closest to the fireplace. She then closed her eyes, took a deep breath through her nose before opening her eyes once more, glancing briefly into the fire, then down at her belly, cradling it as she smiled.
From there, probably won't be long until one of the other Silver Arrows joined her.
Elanir had only walked a few steps before he turned around to face the area where they had entered the hall. He thought he saw a familiar shadow shift but after a drawn in breath of expectation, he realised dishearteningly it was the flicker from the firelight and candles. He did not follow me. The weight of his disappointment was not revealed in his features as he turned slowly to find a cell with only one exterior wall. Choosing a room with two outside walls would mean the room would be colder, even though he was acclimated to the forests he still appreciated shelter, warmth, and comfort when he needed it most. A room close to the middle of the set of cells provided would do.
Closing the oak door quietly behind him he stood motionless staring at the foreign furnishings of the room, it seemed dark and miserable like his mood. His cloak dripped a little with moisture that had soaked into it from travelling. He slowly placed the long black bow against the wall then removed the cloak revealing a finely made steel hand axe retained by a metal ring on a belt around his waist, a long dagger, and well-made boiled leather armour, toughened with resin and padded. He carried a leather pack that contained all his belongings, slipping it off his shoulders he grasped one of the straps and placed it gently on the bed. Taking the cloak he laid it out, covering a nearby chair, though he would probably need to place it by the hearth for it to dry adequately but felt uncomfortable leaving his belongings where there were humans and, gods knows what that other thing was!
Raising his hand he grasped as much of his long black hair as he could and tugged it to free it from his pauldron straps, allowing it to fall over his right shoulder. His green eyes now lowering to the floor as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, discovering it had a mattress and was soft but not as soft as a bed made from bracken and lady's bedstraw, a herb that grew abundantly on the verge of the woods. He took a moment to reach for his pack, yet he never did much more than rest his hand on it. When he needed something, he would unpack, he thought but for now, he would appreciate his solitude.
Closing the oak door quietly behind him he stood motionless staring at the foreign furnishings of the room, it seemed dark and miserable like his mood. His cloak dripped a little with moisture that had soaked into it from travelling. He slowly placed the long black bow against the wall then removed the cloak revealing a finely made steel hand axe retained by a metal ring on a belt around his waist, a long dagger, and well-made boiled leather armour, toughened with resin and padded. He carried a leather pack that contained all his belongings, slipping it off his shoulders he grasped one of the straps and placed it gently on the bed. Taking the cloak he laid it out, covering a nearby chair, though he would probably need to place it by the hearth for it to dry adequately but felt uncomfortable leaving his belongings where there were humans and, gods knows what that other thing was!
Raising his hand he grasped as much of his long black hair as he could and tugged it to free it from his pauldron straps, allowing it to fall over his right shoulder. His green eyes now lowering to the floor as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, discovering it had a mattress and was soft but not as soft as a bed made from bracken and lady's bedstraw, a herb that grew abundantly on the verge of the woods. He took a moment to reach for his pack, yet he never did much more than rest his hand on it. When he needed something, he would unpack, he thought but for now, he would appreciate his solitude.
Nour saw the curly-haired man tugging on the sleeve of another initiate, close enough to pick up on the questions. Having watched the pauldron-wearing man retreat into one of the rooms and nobody stop him, and the pregnant woman doing the same, she paused before approaching him, if the other initiate had not answered already.
"I think so... I saw two other initiates..." She pointed in the direction of the rooms. "...go and select rooms. I was shackled too..." She held up her wrists, revealing the chaffing marks from how long they had been worn for, jarring and jolting against the skin and bone. "...and when we got here, I was released." A sign of trust, as she saw it. When she had shown her hands, patterning would have been revealed when she did so - the scales of something reptilian on the one and splotches of dark against a lighter colour on the other.
When the pale-haired woman returned to the Common area, she offered a nod and what she hoped was a warm smile, although her attention went back to who she had been attempting to converse with first. "Time to enjoy what is on offer, I think. If we are given these comforts, perhaps the training will be hard so then we need them." Or perhaps the Order pampered their initiates, she honestly did not know. "I am Nour, by the way. Some call me Skin." Perhaps the tattoos had something to do with that.
While the journey had rattled her, talking was her way of expressing some of the edge and nerves that had been steadily winding up. Most of the aggression had been seeped out by the cold. The barracks waiting for them certainly helped as well, to a degree.
"I think so... I saw two other initiates..." She pointed in the direction of the rooms. "...go and select rooms. I was shackled too..." She held up her wrists, revealing the chaffing marks from how long they had been worn for, jarring and jolting against the skin and bone. "...and when we got here, I was released." A sign of trust, as she saw it. When she had shown her hands, patterning would have been revealed when she did so - the scales of something reptilian on the one and splotches of dark against a lighter colour on the other.
When the pale-haired woman returned to the Common area, she offered a nod and what she hoped was a warm smile, although her attention went back to who she had been attempting to converse with first. "Time to enjoy what is on offer, I think. If we are given these comforts, perhaps the training will be hard so then we need them." Or perhaps the Order pampered their initiates, she honestly did not know. "I am Nour, by the way. Some call me Skin." Perhaps the tattoos had something to do with that.
While the journey had rattled her, talking was her way of expressing some of the edge and nerves that had been steadily winding up. Most of the aggression had been seeped out by the cold. The barracks waiting for them certainly helped as well, to a degree.
"Nour," Rye repeats quietly, turning toward the voice addressing him. "My name is Rye. Rye Earthgaard" He lowers his head even more, like a bow, uncertain of the etiquette expected of him. "My master just said he sold me, I just thought...I was going to be a slave...somewhere else. I've been sold before, but this is...new. I guess I should indulge in this as much as I can before this training kills me!" He half jokes, nervously. For just a moment, there was a flash of hazel? or was it green? through the curls, before it is covered again behind the thick hair. "I'm just a gardener..."
He reaches back and scratches his back, between his shoulder blades. Irritation from the still-healing wounds from the latest lashes he got for running again. He's lost count how many times he's tried, so suppose it makes sense that his master was done with him.
Rye's gaze was drawn to Nour's wrist, as she holds them up. He's never seen the scale patterns and discolouration on someone's skin like this. "If it's the manacles that caused that, you can try rubbing this against your skin for a little bit?" He holds out the leaves he had collected to her, "These leaves have some soothing oils on them. Or something?" He shrugs, hoping that even if it doesn't actually help, well, at least it's a gesture of goodwill. He doesn't care why some of the others arrived shackled, and some were not. He's been in enough manacles in his short lifetime to know that those in chains are never as bad as anyone wants you to think they are. It is the ones holding the chains that can be truly cruel.
He reaches back and scratches his back, between his shoulder blades. Irritation from the still-healing wounds from the latest lashes he got for running again. He's lost count how many times he's tried, so suppose it makes sense that his master was done with him.
Rye's gaze was drawn to Nour's wrist, as she holds them up. He's never seen the scale patterns and discolouration on someone's skin like this. "If it's the manacles that caused that, you can try rubbing this against your skin for a little bit?" He holds out the leaves he had collected to her, "These leaves have some soothing oils on them. Or something?" He shrugs, hoping that even if it doesn't actually help, well, at least it's a gesture of goodwill. He doesn't care why some of the others arrived shackled, and some were not. He's been in enough manacles in his short lifetime to know that those in chains are never as bad as anyone wants you to think they are. It is the ones holding the chains that can be truly cruel.
With Oren taking his leave for the night and most of the Initiates leaving to claim their room, Severus took that time to investigate the library. Approaching it, he ran his hand along the spines of the books, feeling the cracked and aged leather beneath his fingertips. He lifted a few from the shelf, each one more different from the last. The first he inspected was some sort of Elvish, the words alien and foreign to him as he gently flipped over the nearly stale pages. The next was even older, in what he could only be the runic language of the Dwarves. Only the most dedicated scholars could make out a few runes, meaning this book had likely been here since they last walked these halls. This book could contain the secrets to runecrafting, detailed instructions on how to make some of the fascinating machines that still dotted the landscape. It could also just as likely be filled with nonsense. Books on history, legends, the Order and even some good old fashioned stories made up some of the rest. Slotting the last he lifted back onto the shelf, he went to go claim his own chambers.
Severus never had to look long, one of the rooms near the front of the corridor free. He was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable the room was, with everything one could need. A large bed dominated the room, carved of hewn rock with dwarven architecture, ornate canels carved through rock and stone. The Order had furnished it with a comfortable mattress with a thin cotton sheet and a further blanket resting on top, two pillows placed side by side. At the foot of the bed sat wooden chest, which Severus opened. Empty for now, he assumed when they were measured for clothes this was where they were to store it, along with the drawer pushed against the left wall. An armour stand and weapon rack lay at the far side of the room along with a desk and simple stool. Removing his cloak and folding it in half, he rested it on the edge of his desk and made his way back into the common to join the others.
While a few were still in their rooms, there was a few people chatting with one another in the common room. Spotting a woman heavy with child next to the fireplace, he decided to join her. There was no point in keeping to oneself when they were all expected to work together. Kneeling next to the fire, Severus took few pieces of firewood and threw them in to keep the fire burning bright, rubbing his hands together to ward off the last of the cold they brought in with them. It wouldnt have done to be claustrophobic in this place, the mountain stretching for miles above them with tunnels miles below. Resting down on an armchair across from her, Severus spoke up as he lifted his leg up to him "Things must truly be desperate for you to join the Order in your condition." He noted, pulling his boot free with a slight sigh of relief before taking off the other "But, I suppose, at least you had the choice to be here. Severus." He finished, telling her his name.
Severus never had to look long, one of the rooms near the front of the corridor free. He was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable the room was, with everything one could need. A large bed dominated the room, carved of hewn rock with dwarven architecture, ornate canels carved through rock and stone. The Order had furnished it with a comfortable mattress with a thin cotton sheet and a further blanket resting on top, two pillows placed side by side. At the foot of the bed sat wooden chest, which Severus opened. Empty for now, he assumed when they were measured for clothes this was where they were to store it, along with the drawer pushed against the left wall. An armour stand and weapon rack lay at the far side of the room along with a desk and simple stool. Removing his cloak and folding it in half, he rested it on the edge of his desk and made his way back into the common to join the others.
While a few were still in their rooms, there was a few people chatting with one another in the common room. Spotting a woman heavy with child next to the fireplace, he decided to join her. There was no point in keeping to oneself when they were all expected to work together. Kneeling next to the fire, Severus took few pieces of firewood and threw them in to keep the fire burning bright, rubbing his hands together to ward off the last of the cold they brought in with them. It wouldnt have done to be claustrophobic in this place, the mountain stretching for miles above them with tunnels miles below. Resting down on an armchair across from her, Severus spoke up as he lifted his leg up to him "Things must truly be desperate for you to join the Order in your condition." He noted, pulling his boot free with a slight sigh of relief before taking off the other "But, I suppose, at least you had the choice to be here. Severus." He finished, telling her his name.
A lady dressed in mostly black and in a beaten-up lab coat walked along the cart. Despite her rather, off-putting, some might even say creepy outfit completed with a Pledge doctor mask made of leather. Rose was no prisoner; she too was a volunteer. Lugging her medical bag on her back.
With her previous boss no longer requiring her assistance, she set out into the world. On her faith and goodwill, A will to keep people healthy, and her faith to prevent death. She is a Cleric, after all, no matter if they are a volunteer like her or a prisoner Her duty is to heal.
As the cart and volunteers are let in by the guards, and Oren announced of there being a combat test tomorrow. Rose's insurance flickered, she is much more talented in the medical arts than she is with a sword or shield. Well, there are going to be hardships in this new home. At least it was just a sparring match. The warmth of the fort meets Rose's mask, quickly wiping away the condensation. Making a quick walk around the common room, she will be fine with whichever bedroom left.
She approached the bookshelves, quietly scanning the shelves for any books on medicines, illnesses, or even just a simple storybook to relax to. Any chance to extend her knowledge of medicine of plants in the area is a chance to extend her usefulness for the team. As she was browsing, she overheard part of the team, the expecting mother, and some of the prisoners. Introducing themselves, as some of the prisoners comment on the discomfort of their wrist, where the shackles once were. Rose took a deep breath from her mask and approached the group.
"I couldn't help but overhear, but if your wrists are hurting. I do have something that could help." The doctor lady said, before turning her attention to her bag. With a quick unbuckle of her bag, and careful reach in. Rose pulled out a glass vial about the size of her hand. The contents are clear, with small green specks of plants floating in them.
"My name is Rosemary, and I'm a doctor. This is a mixture, of a few medical herbs. It is great for smoothing and healing irritated skin. Just take some and rub the mixture on the sore area." She said holding the jar out for the small group, for whomever wishes to take it.
"The plants are common, plus, the Bay leaves do give it a rather pleasant smell." The Doctor lady despite the Mask, sounds kind and genuine towards her claims.
With her previous boss no longer requiring her assistance, she set out into the world. On her faith and goodwill, A will to keep people healthy, and her faith to prevent death. She is a Cleric, after all, no matter if they are a volunteer like her or a prisoner Her duty is to heal.
As the cart and volunteers are let in by the guards, and Oren announced of there being a combat test tomorrow. Rose's insurance flickered, she is much more talented in the medical arts than she is with a sword or shield. Well, there are going to be hardships in this new home. At least it was just a sparring match. The warmth of the fort meets Rose's mask, quickly wiping away the condensation. Making a quick walk around the common room, she will be fine with whichever bedroom left.
She approached the bookshelves, quietly scanning the shelves for any books on medicines, illnesses, or even just a simple storybook to relax to. Any chance to extend her knowledge of medicine of plants in the area is a chance to extend her usefulness for the team. As she was browsing, she overheard part of the team, the expecting mother, and some of the prisoners. Introducing themselves, as some of the prisoners comment on the discomfort of their wrist, where the shackles once were. Rose took a deep breath from her mask and approached the group.
"I couldn't help but overhear, but if your wrists are hurting. I do have something that could help." The doctor lady said, before turning her attention to her bag. With a quick unbuckle of her bag, and careful reach in. Rose pulled out a glass vial about the size of her hand. The contents are clear, with small green specks of plants floating in them.
"My name is Rosemary, and I'm a doctor. This is a mixture, of a few medical herbs. It is great for smoothing and healing irritated skin. Just take some and rub the mixture on the sore area." She said holding the jar out for the small group, for whomever wishes to take it.
"The plants are common, plus, the Bay leaves do give it a rather pleasant smell." The Doctor lady despite the Mask, sounds kind and genuine towards her claims.
Rye smiles instinctively at the new stranger's name. "Used to grow a lot of rosemary in the garden. They repel wasps and attracts butterflies, it always made the lady of the house smile." He gets a little embarrassed, feels a tinge of heat in his face, "Ah - I'm sorry for rambling! It's nice to meet you, doctor. That is an intense looking mask."
The fire in the hall must be stronger than he expected, he is warmer than he thought. He feels sweat at the back of his neck, and the wounds on his back feels hot. A bit feint, actually. He wobbles against an arm chair, and half falls into it. "Doctor," He repeats, "Would that mixture happen to help with fresher wounds? I may not have earned your favour yet, but...I'm afraid I need your help, nonetheless."
Removing the rough, torn cloak on his back, Rye only wore a thin cotton shirt underneath. Fraying bandages peak out of the collar at the back of his neck. He knows that the cold winds, and rough fabric against the scabbing lacerations has caused some inflammation, though luckily he can feel that none of the wounds have reopened. They were mostly healed, but these lashes were not adequately cared for. Not to mention the ones underneath.
The ones underneath, he almost forgot. Embarrassed again, no one should look at that sorry sight. He shakes his head, and pushes himself off the chair. "Ah - forget I said anything," He starts stumbling toward the chambers. "Maybe I should just...find a room..."
The fire in the hall must be stronger than he expected, he is warmer than he thought. He feels sweat at the back of his neck, and the wounds on his back feels hot. A bit feint, actually. He wobbles against an arm chair, and half falls into it. "Doctor," He repeats, "Would that mixture happen to help with fresher wounds? I may not have earned your favour yet, but...I'm afraid I need your help, nonetheless."
Removing the rough, torn cloak on his back, Rye only wore a thin cotton shirt underneath. Fraying bandages peak out of the collar at the back of his neck. He knows that the cold winds, and rough fabric against the scabbing lacerations has caused some inflammation, though luckily he can feel that none of the wounds have reopened. They were mostly healed, but these lashes were not adequately cared for. Not to mention the ones underneath.
The ones underneath, he almost forgot. Embarrassed again, no one should look at that sorry sight. He shakes his head, and pushes himself off the chair. "Ah - forget I said anything," He starts stumbling toward the chambers. "Maybe I should just...find a room..."
While relaxing on the couch, Ashley had spent the next couple of minutes or so practicing her breathing exercises given that she was in the later stages of pregnancy. Inhale...exhale...inhale...exhale... This was done a few times in repetition before straightening out her dress and stretching out her legs. Sadly, she did end up waddling out here barefoot since slippers hadn't been provided yet. Looking down at her swollen belly, she inhaled through her nose, before exhaling through her mouth before gently caressing the belly while also feeling the material of her dress. It was only getting more difficult as the weeks went by, but then again, she'd probably be fine since she did just walk...or waddle...all the way to this Fortress. Still, it'll probably end up being a cakewalk compared to what's next for her and the other initiates. Post-childbirth anyway. She then smiled as she felt the unborn baby kick the palm of her hand.
Ashley would then look up to see one of her fellow initiates approach the fireplace, kneeling briefly and adding in more wood to the fire before taking a seat on one of the armchairs adjacent to the couch. As he began taking off one of his boots, the man spoke up, prompting her to look in his direction. The company was going to be nice, especially since the last couple of months have been rather lonely.
Well, he wasn't completely wrong. Times were relatively desperate for her, but it was her choice to be here. She easily could just be staying in the Riverlands in a cottage by the river. "Well, desperate wouldn't be the word I'd use. But you're correct, I am here of my own volition." She replied, gently caressing the swollen belly to soothe the restless unborn baby as the kicking became a little incessant. "My name's Ashley by the way. A pleasure to meet you, Severus. I will admit, I was a little surprised that the...Recruiter didn't turn me away due to the fact that I am with child. But that shouldn't hinder me in battle. So long as my adversaries are kept at a distance. Once they get too close, I'd likely be in serious trouble." She said, introducing herself and musing at her liking to ranged combat.
Ashley would then look up to see one of her fellow initiates approach the fireplace, kneeling briefly and adding in more wood to the fire before taking a seat on one of the armchairs adjacent to the couch. As he began taking off one of his boots, the man spoke up, prompting her to look in his direction. The company was going to be nice, especially since the last couple of months have been rather lonely.
Severus wrote:
"Things must truly be desperate for you to join the Order in your condition." -Sigh- "But, I suppose, at least you had the choice to be here. Severus."
"Pleasure is all mine." Severus replied, stretching his legs out and leaning forward, using his hand to massage out the aches he had from being cooped up in that cage. "I have to say I'm surprised myself, I can't imagine Karuzgard is the best place for a baby if the rumours are true. But maybe Oren saw something in you."
Reclining back, Severus looked around the strange collection they all made. They came from all walks of life, different races, different backgrounds but still all their journeys lead them here. He remembered when Oren had found him in the Coliseum of Wevrest. His owner had arranged a particularly nasty fight against a nomad from Bael-Rath, a great hulk of a man who fought with shamshir. Severus remembered the roar of the crowd when he walked into the arena that day, nameless faces all baying for blood. The fight was long and hard, the two trading back blows. The man had even managed to slice down his battle mask, cutting a gash down the golden skull that he had wore into countless fights. After parrying the man's sword with his own, Severus raised his axe upwards and dug into the man's chest. Ohh the roar, as blood ran thick across the sand. As he raised his sword to finish him.
Severus had no idea that Oren was there, watching the whole thing. That night he came to his master, the Rite of Conscription invoked as he gave a few gold coins for loss of earnings. Like before, he was bundled into a cage and carted off to fight a new battle instead. Snapping out of his daydreaming, Severus turned back to Ashley.
"Well then I'll be relying on you to watch my back. You keep them from stabbing me in the flank, and I'll keep them from reaching you."
Reclining back, Severus looked around the strange collection they all made. They came from all walks of life, different races, different backgrounds but still all their journeys lead them here. He remembered when Oren had found him in the Coliseum of Wevrest. His owner had arranged a particularly nasty fight against a nomad from Bael-Rath, a great hulk of a man who fought with shamshir. Severus remembered the roar of the crowd when he walked into the arena that day, nameless faces all baying for blood. The fight was long and hard, the two trading back blows. The man had even managed to slice down his battle mask, cutting a gash down the golden skull that he had wore into countless fights. After parrying the man's sword with his own, Severus raised his axe upwards and dug into the man's chest. Ohh the roar, as blood ran thick across the sand. As he raised his sword to finish him.
Severus had no idea that Oren was there, watching the whole thing. That night he came to his master, the Rite of Conscription invoked as he gave a few gold coins for loss of earnings. Like before, he was bundled into a cage and carted off to fight a new battle instead. Snapping out of his daydreaming, Severus turned back to Ashley.
"Well then I'll be relying on you to watch my back. You keep them from stabbing me in the flank, and I'll keep them from reaching you."
To her credit, the sight of the individual approaching wearing a leather mask didn't cause too much surprise. It was different, certainly, but it was neither monstrous or threatening. When the vial was offered, she accepted it, uncorking it and sniffing at the mixture. "Thank you." She made a motion, raising the vial slightly, towards the man she had been conversing with. "Would you like me to apply it to your wrists? Likely easier than if you try and do it yourself." She tilted her head slightly at the Doctor again, regarding her steadily. "You are here to fight too, or just to heal?" The idea of someone combining both roles was not a strange one to her - harming the enemy while healing allies.
She looked over for a moment to where the pregnant woman with white hair and short black-haired man were conversing, regarding them both steadily. Hadn't there been someone else? Presumably having gone to pick a room, something that she had not done yet. She was not about to go chasing someone and reasoned that sooner or later, she would come to recognise the faces of both the Silver Arrows themselves and those who had come to the barracks at the same time as herself.
When the man queried the Doctor about the wounds and then seemed to change his mind and make for the chambers, she made a clicking noise with her tongue against her teeth and made to catch his arm. "Tcah, they need seeing to. Doctor's have seen every wound type under the sun. Need to make the best start for training."
She looked over for a moment to where the pregnant woman with white hair and short black-haired man were conversing, regarding them both steadily. Hadn't there been someone else? Presumably having gone to pick a room, something that she had not done yet. She was not about to go chasing someone and reasoned that sooner or later, she would come to recognise the faces of both the Silver Arrows themselves and those who had come to the barracks at the same time as herself.
When the man queried the Doctor about the wounds and then seemed to change his mind and make for the chambers, she made a clicking noise with her tongue against her teeth and made to catch his arm. "Tcah, they need seeing to. Doctor's have seen every wound type under the sun. Need to make the best start for training."
After several moments he rose again and began to unbuckle the straps of his leather armour. Removing the small pauldrons first then the vambraces. The armour that covered his chest had several buckles at the side tucked under a thick flap of hide so they would not succumb to damage in combat and render the armour loose and him vulnerable.
He wore an undyed loom-state linen shirt with small embroidered ivy leaves in a green thread around the collar, his hose were made from the soft undercoat wool from goats in their natural sable colour. He slipped off his grimy boots and placed them at the side of the bed before unfastening the buckles of his pack and removing a pair of soft-soled goat skin boots, the type that was often attired when sheltering in one of the kepi huts so as not to bring the forest debris in on their outdoor boots.
Once this was done he glanced about the room, it was cold and lifeless. Any furnishings the humans regarded as essential seemed depressing and far unlike the roots, vines and foliage that grew around his own people's dwellings bringing nature closer to them.
Still standing he discarded these dismal thoughts and focused, with several more deep breaths, upon his next actions. He knew he would at some point be acquired to gather with the rest in the hall. Tu’fi What the fucking brocs am I doing here?! Ah, yes! He had commanded him, in so many words, to go and be useful somewhere else, mentioning fate and changing...stuff.
He took one last deep breath as he swished his long black hair behind him, it was down to his waist and he was quite proud of it. He stepped forward, grasped the knob and opened the door. Stepping back into the occupied room his vivid green eyes directed at each of the residents. Bouncing off them like casting smooth pebbles across a calm lake. He needed to distract himself from their presence and use some means to avoid conversation. His glare settled on the many books displayed and a smile tugged at his lips. He began to approach the first case, observing it with mild interest.
He wore an undyed loom-state linen shirt with small embroidered ivy leaves in a green thread around the collar, his hose were made from the soft undercoat wool from goats in their natural sable colour. He slipped off his grimy boots and placed them at the side of the bed before unfastening the buckles of his pack and removing a pair of soft-soled goat skin boots, the type that was often attired when sheltering in one of the kepi huts so as not to bring the forest debris in on their outdoor boots.
Once this was done he glanced about the room, it was cold and lifeless. Any furnishings the humans regarded as essential seemed depressing and far unlike the roots, vines and foliage that grew around his own people's dwellings bringing nature closer to them.
Still standing he discarded these dismal thoughts and focused, with several more deep breaths, upon his next actions. He knew he would at some point be acquired to gather with the rest in the hall. Tu’fi What the fucking brocs am I doing here?! Ah, yes! He had commanded him, in so many words, to go and be useful somewhere else, mentioning fate and changing...stuff.
He took one last deep breath as he swished his long black hair behind him, it was down to his waist and he was quite proud of it. He stepped forward, grasped the knob and opened the door. Stepping back into the occupied room his vivid green eyes directed at each of the residents. Bouncing off them like casting smooth pebbles across a calm lake. He needed to distract himself from their presence and use some means to avoid conversation. His glare settled on the many books displayed and a smile tugged at his lips. He began to approach the first case, observing it with mild interest.
Rye’s shoulders tenses up instinctively when someone catches his arm. Then, for reasons unknown to him, he almost immediately relaxes when he sees the hand on his arm. “Nour,” He says her name again. He has a habit of repeating certain words and names, like his own voice is telling him about the things that are going to be important.
There’s nothing wrong with letting others help, Whisky. His father’s voice echoes in his head, gentle as ever. Owing favours is how we’ve been slaves for three generations, father. I’ve been here for mere minutes, I cannot fall into debt to two people! He argues in his head, pulling his cloak closer to his chest.
He takes a step toward Nour, curl of his hair grazing her shoulder. “Not here, please. Too many,” He trails off. Too many debts, and scars, and eyes in this room. He watches the Elven man come out of his chambers and add another to the common room. Too many things he feels he needs to hide. He doesn’t even know if it’s necessary. He doesn’t know anything, and it scares him.
Well, that's not true. He knows she’s right. He knows he's unsteady on his feet, and that this heat is a fever. He knows he’s not tough enough to pretend like he doesn’t need the help. So he shuts his eyes, nods with resignation, and turns to Rosemary. "Doctor, please."
There’s nothing wrong with letting others help, Whisky. His father’s voice echoes in his head, gentle as ever. Owing favours is how we’ve been slaves for three generations, father. I’ve been here for mere minutes, I cannot fall into debt to two people! He argues in his head, pulling his cloak closer to his chest.
He takes a step toward Nour, curl of his hair grazing her shoulder. “Not here, please. Too many,” He trails off. Too many debts, and scars, and eyes in this room. He watches the Elven man come out of his chambers and add another to the common room. Too many things he feels he needs to hide. He doesn’t even know if it’s necessary. He doesn’t know anything, and it scares him.
Well, that's not true. He knows she’s right. He knows he's unsteady on his feet, and that this heat is a fever. He knows he’s not tough enough to pretend like he doesn’t need the help. So he shuts his eyes, nods with resignation, and turns to Rosemary. "Doctor, please."
"Well, Initially, I just came here to heal. I have little experience with actual fighting, But, I ensure you, I will not become a hindrance. I'm sure I can pick up a few offensive tricks." Rose said to her new teammates. Upon hearing Nour's comment to Rye, Rosemary nodded in agreement.
"She is right, as a doctor It is my duty to keep people healthy. No matter what my team needs I will be there. " She walks over to Rye and offers a hand. While she definitely can't pick Rye up, it is more of a friendly gesture.
"If privacy is what you want, then let us go to your room. I'll see what I can do." She said adjusting her bag.
"She is right, as a doctor It is my duty to keep people healthy. No matter what my team needs I will be there. " She walks over to Rye and offers a hand. While she definitely can't pick Rye up, it is more of a friendly gesture.
"If privacy is what you want, then let us go to your room. I'll see what I can do." She said adjusting her bag.
"Team." Rye echoes Rosemary, and stares at her extended hand for a long moment. You've got to take a risk on someone, Whisky. He nods, and takes her hand. His knuckles are scarred, palms are calloused, and there is dirt under his nails. First thing about him he does not seem ashamed of.
They head toward the chambers, and take the first free room he could find. "Sorry. I'm just embarrassed. Everyone here seems so certain, and I don't even know where I am." Still holding on to the old cloak to his chest, he pulls his shirt over his head, and unwraps the bandages, letting everything but the cloak fall to the ground. His body is lithe, and skin is almost sickly pale. He straddles a chair with his back facing the doctor, resting his forehead against the cloak, bunched up against the back of the chair.
The skin on Rye's back is thick with layers of scars, of several burns from branding, and at least fifty whip lacerations over the course of years. The majority of them must have been within the last year, and were obviously not healed up before the next ones were layered on. The skin is distorted, pulling on muscle and nerves. That Rye is still able to stand should be a surprise. Six of the lacerations are relatively fresh, within weeks. They've scabbed over, but it's obvious there is fluid build up and minor infections.
"I tried running so many times, I've lost count. And I failed every time. I've no skill with a weapon, and they'll know the moment they see this. They won’t trust me to be able to watch their back, and they’d be right to do so. What good am I on this team?" He mutters his uncertainty, trying to fill the silence. “Rosemary, you volunteered for this, didn’t you? Can you tell me why?”
They head toward the chambers, and take the first free room he could find. "Sorry. I'm just embarrassed. Everyone here seems so certain, and I don't even know where I am." Still holding on to the old cloak to his chest, he pulls his shirt over his head, and unwraps the bandages, letting everything but the cloak fall to the ground. His body is lithe, and skin is almost sickly pale. He straddles a chair with his back facing the doctor, resting his forehead against the cloak, bunched up against the back of the chair.
The skin on Rye's back is thick with layers of scars, of several burns from branding, and at least fifty whip lacerations over the course of years. The majority of them must have been within the last year, and were obviously not healed up before the next ones were layered on. The skin is distorted, pulling on muscle and nerves. That Rye is still able to stand should be a surprise. Six of the lacerations are relatively fresh, within weeks. They've scabbed over, but it's obvious there is fluid build up and minor infections.
"I tried running so many times, I've lost count. And I failed every time. I've no skill with a weapon, and they'll know the moment they see this. They won’t trust me to be able to watch their back, and they’d be right to do so. What good am I on this team?" He mutters his uncertainty, trying to fill the silence. “Rosemary, you volunteered for this, didn’t you? Can you tell me why?”
Rose tries to mentally prepare herself for Rye's wounds. He was in shackles, after all, perhaps some scars from whipping, maybe battle scars. The doctor only knew that the man was in shackles and a gardener. Yet, the past matters little, nor was the doctor going to pry into his personal life. Yet, she could not prepare herself enough for the image she was about to see.
As Rye undressed, All Rose could see on the man's back were scars. Horrible scars, these don't belong on any being, no matter what they may have done. If Rose wasn't wearing her mask, Rye may have caught a glimpse of Rose's horrified reaction. Without noticing it herself one of her hands reached out and touched one of the branding marks. How does this man still live? she thought to herself.
"Okay, Let's clean up some of those wounds." She said pulling her hand back and placing her medical bag on the nightstand. Opening the bag and taking out her tools. Putting on some gloves, and taking out a clean sponge, a jar of clear liquid, and a towel.
"This might sting a bit." She warned as she pours some of the clear potion over the sponge. She then went ahead to dab at the fresher wounds. A minor ping of pain as she began the cleaning process. Occasionally pulling the sponge back to add more liquid, or to drain the blood onto the towel.
Rosemary relaxed a little when Rye asked his question.
"I came here, 'cause faith leads me here. Recently, my previous..." She pauses momentarily to find the correct word, she used to call him Sir, or boss. Yet neither of those fit well.
"My previous, caretaker, is no longer needed for me. But I don't take that as an offense. Faith has an end for everything. Rather, it is my time with my previous home, my time with this group, or my time upon this world. I simply have a desire to help those continue to live their fullest, till my time with them has ended. If you don't mind me saying so, As I look at your hardships, I have a lot of confidence that your time with the group will be long, and you will bring much value within your time."
As Rye undressed, All Rose could see on the man's back were scars. Horrible scars, these don't belong on any being, no matter what they may have done. If Rose wasn't wearing her mask, Rye may have caught a glimpse of Rose's horrified reaction. Without noticing it herself one of her hands reached out and touched one of the branding marks. How does this man still live? she thought to herself.
"Okay, Let's clean up some of those wounds." She said pulling her hand back and placing her medical bag on the nightstand. Opening the bag and taking out her tools. Putting on some gloves, and taking out a clean sponge, a jar of clear liquid, and a towel.
"This might sting a bit." She warned as she pours some of the clear potion over the sponge. She then went ahead to dab at the fresher wounds. A minor ping of pain as she began the cleaning process. Occasionally pulling the sponge back to add more liquid, or to drain the blood onto the towel.
Rosemary relaxed a little when Rye asked his question.
"I came here, 'cause faith leads me here. Recently, my previous..." She pauses momentarily to find the correct word, she used to call him Sir, or boss. Yet neither of those fit well.
"My previous, caretaker, is no longer needed for me. But I don't take that as an offense. Faith has an end for everything. Rather, it is my time with my previous home, my time with this group, or my time upon this world. I simply have a desire to help those continue to live their fullest, till my time with them has ended. If you don't mind me saying so, As I look at your hardships, I have a lot of confidence that your time with the group will be long, and you will bring much value within your time."
Nour followed. She had engaged with Rye so far and, if he didn't protest, seemed content to follow him and the masked individual. While doing so, there was a momentary crossing of paths with the dark-haired elf whose name she did not yet know. A nod offered, no more, no less - a greeting. But he appeared to her to be moving with a purpose and so she did not get in the way.
Once in the relative privacy of the chosen room, she moved to lean against one of the walls, giving the pair space in which to work. She listened, head titled to one side. "I do not know where we are either, if that helps. I know the name of it - Karuzgard - but that is it." She knew that the journey had been long but, once shackled and penned, her internal compass had been thrown out of the bars, so to speak. She winced sympathetically at the exposure of the wounds and decided to keep talking, absently rubbing at the marks on her own wrists.
"I think they may train us from the ground up. Raw material and all that." She shrugged, anticipating the gesture to be unseen. "They have my loyalty for lodgings and food, honestly. I am curious enough to see what they are about." As much as there was still a simmering dislike for the wrongful capture, the shifter was at once both easily distracted and easily won over. She was also no longer in shackles and understood that the people who'd taken charge of her transport to the Silver Arrows were not the same ones as those who had captured her in the first place.
She watched Rosemary work intently, interested in what the healer was doing. "What is with the mask, may I ask?" Fully anticipating a degree of rebuff but asking anyway.
Once in the relative privacy of the chosen room, she moved to lean against one of the walls, giving the pair space in which to work. She listened, head titled to one side. "I do not know where we are either, if that helps. I know the name of it - Karuzgard - but that is it." She knew that the journey had been long but, once shackled and penned, her internal compass had been thrown out of the bars, so to speak. She winced sympathetically at the exposure of the wounds and decided to keep talking, absently rubbing at the marks on her own wrists.
"I think they may train us from the ground up. Raw material and all that." She shrugged, anticipating the gesture to be unseen. "They have my loyalty for lodgings and food, honestly. I am curious enough to see what they are about." As much as there was still a simmering dislike for the wrongful capture, the shifter was at once both easily distracted and easily won over. She was also no longer in shackles and understood that the people who'd taken charge of her transport to the Silver Arrows were not the same ones as those who had captured her in the first place.
She watched Rosemary work intently, interested in what the healer was doing. "What is with the mask, may I ask?" Fully anticipating a degree of rebuff but asking anyway.
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