Crawled Out of a Hole

Log Info

• Title: Crawled Out of a Hole
• Emitter: Skielstregar
• Characters: Skielstregar, Vaera, Barclaiigh
• Place: Temple of Daeus
• Time: June 8th, 2022
• Summary: After an undead hunting trip gone awry, Skielstregar is dropped off, delirious and weakened. Vaera catches up, having been on his trail for some time. Barclaiigh arrives, him delivering some holy symbols to the temple, but ends up assisting moving the massive and weakened Skiel into the temple proper. Barc lends some of Ea's healing before he goes on his way to file reports, and Vaera watches over Skiel in the interim.

Temple of Daeus, Late Morning

Beautiful, towering white clouds drift lazily through the shining blue sky. The heat from the sun weighs heavy and hazy, almost like it saps the color from the roads and buildings. Save for the temple of the Shining Knight.

And yet, despite the time of day, a being devoid of the sun strides straight up towards the temple without hesitation, nor fear. A mare, fur black as night, leaves a path of inky black behind it, hooves clattering in an empty echo. Solid crimson eyes are set upon the holy site.

Sunblades spot the creature, them drawing weapons and shouting at one another as this nightmarish creature sees to defoul such sanctity-

The unsettling mare abruptly stops, turns to the side. Then shakes itself, dislodging a passenger to unceremoniously clatter to the ground in a metallic heap. They sprawl out on their back, dazed, weak. A hulking, heavily armed sith-makar. Silver scales tinged bronze, though most were brittle and flaky as their dead silver eyes flutter open and closed.

The Sunblades hesitate, recognizing the Dragonfather symbol that dangles from their neck as one of their own as they advance to investigate.

The dark horse whinnies.

Vaera had disappeared after unfortunate encounter with the undead in the forests. She had just been able to see Skielstregar leaving when everyone else had retreated, but, he had run off in the process. So Vaera had to go and track him down, which was slow going in her own weakened state. It had taken a while, but she was able to follow the tracks until they reached the city of Alexandria, and from there there were enough eyewitness accounts to narrow it down to the temple district.

It was not long then until Vaera had run into the religious site, and up to the temple of Daeus where Skielstregar had been dumped off.

"Keep your distance for the moment. She barks at the curious paladin as she stepped closer herself. "Skielstregar, are you alright? You ran off after everything, and did not return."

Skielstregar looks sickly, weak, and pallid. His usual equipment keeping him anchored to the ground on the cobblestone, his eyes unfocused and fluttering. "V... Vaer... miir?" he wheezes, coughing.

Now that he was found, one could see that he was completely filthy. Armor and halberd covered in dirt and sticky black ink. "... not.. alright... where?"

The inspecting paladin ceases their advance, confused and on edge, but heeding the warning.

The red makari stops and crouches down, and works on taking off the armor so she could assess any wounds before moving him at all. There was no way she was going to move him in it, anyways. "Yes, it's Vaermiir, Skielstregar." The hunter chuffs. "We are in Alexandria, at the temple of Daeus. It seems your mount brought you here after everything." She attempts to explain. "You'll be fine though, but we should get you looked after. Daeusite, prepare a room if you have one available for the injured. I will help him to it."

Assessment reveals that blood intermingled with the black sticky ink lines his maw, and bruising on his throat seems like he got grabbed and choked. On top of the looking incredibly sick and weak, unbefitting of him.

The Sunblade snaps their weapon back into their scabbard in a practiced motion. "At once." They scurry off to fulfill the directive.

"... a... ah... that's... good.. Vaeox..." he pants, reaching out to weakly pat a nearby hoof.

The night-mare huffs and plods over, leaning over with its mouth to bite the edge of his clothes at the collar.

Some horsepower to move him, when needed.

Smiles are in short supply today and the auburn-haired druid has left his emergency stock buried somewhere safe in the forest. Finished at some grim business, Barclaiigh is tucking an emptied sack through his belt to dangle under his armored gut, sighing heavily, and dragging dirtied fingers across his face as he steps through the column and into view.

The Khazad is more-armored than usual, with padded sleeves and long pants under additional darkwood armor. Thick gloves hide the runic tattoos that cover his meaty hands.

He stops chewing on whatever foul-tasting thought what has his nose wrinkled and comes up short at the sight of the two familiar sith-makar. "Y'all... good?" he asks weakly, having a solid guess at the incoming negative response.

Vaera spends some time gathering up the bits of armor that were removed, and stowing them away on top of the horse, as there was no better spot to keep them for the time being. "Sorry, I'll get those in a bit." She apologizes to the nightmare horse. "But for now, up you get, Skielstregar."

With assistance from the horse, she's at least able to pull Skielstregar to his feet, and stand in front of him till he could get situated over her back. "Ah, Barclaiigh, it has been some time, and not the best time to meet you again. I will be fine, I am sure, but it seems Skielstregar got the worst of some undead in the forests. I'm getting him to a room, so he can rest, and see a healer." She says to the druid when she sees him.

Skielstregar haggardly gets up to his feet with very little effort afforded on his end, the two of them end up having to do most of the hauling. Thankfully, there was an entire horse there to lift most of it.

He flops over Vaera, using her as support and doing his best to keep his feet from under him.

To be frank, he looks horrendus, like he was running a fever so brisk his scales withered from it. Fluttering, dead silver eyes sweep of Barc briefly before closing languidly. ".. Sha... Shaman.." he tries to greet, but the rest of the words tiredly die out.

"Yeah... jus' droppin' off some'a y'all's holy symbols..." Barclaiigh sighs tiredly, nodding in agreement with Vaera's assessment. He steps forward and gestures, patting at his shoulder as he sidles in to wrap a thick arm around Skielstregar's waist. "These patrols ain't no fun...

"Bit dry affer th'night I had but once yer'n'n settled I got a spell'r two up m'sleeve." He blinks his tiny eyes and looks up at the battered silverscale, then past at the redscale. His smile is thin and a bit forced but he offers it anyway. "Least y'all're still standin'."

"Not my holy symbols, or Skielstergar's, he already has one unless he asked for another." The red makari chuffs as she struggles a bit to half carry Skielstregar on her back further inside. "No, they are not, but they are necessary. Does not make them any safer, though. And I should have heeded the warnings given properly. Just because I use a thunderbelcher does not mean I trust artifice however."

The black haired mare stays stock still as their master is dragged off into the temple proper by the two. They dip their head towards the trio, then >paff< into a plume of wafting black miasma.

This startles the Sunblades.

Skielstregar is easier to handle now that his armor is shed and has two folks keeping him aloft. Though he certainly felt lighter than he should. Missing some mass. Whatever they dealt with really took it out of him.

"Th... hanksss...." he murmurs to the druid as he moves to aid. "...k... kept... prom.. issse... dessspite..."

Things at moment within the temple are on sort of triage. Preparations are underway for an onslaught of wights, ergo, many cots and sheets are laid out, ready to take in patients. Though it seems that any that really see the places are the ones patrolling.

"Not y'all-yall's..." Barclaiigh corrects himself, canting his head towards the general temple interior. "Couple'a... well, nevermind none; nothin' t'be done now." Despite his relatively short stature (or perhaps because-of), the druid is quite sturdy and an apt post against which to lean.

"Ain't much further, fella, 'n we'll get ya settled in." He gives Skielstregar a light pat. "Keep thinkin'l things'll start runnin' smoother; big twigs got some time t'prepare. Cast all'a them spells. So many rituals the place smells like a great bloom'a flowers'n the summer sun an'like the heavens done poured down a big ol' storm right affer'n ol' batch'a dirt got kicked up." Another heavy sigh.

"Just gotta keep on keepin' on. Sure auntie'll turn up soon. 'n miss Shilde, too."

"Well, as long as they get to the proper people." Vaera chuffs. "Of course you did, I didn't doubt your ability to keep any promises."

The red makari reaches to pat him on the head from in front. Then she winces as the armor she had set on the horse clatter to the floor. "Well, I can still go and get it later. But do not worry about it Skielstregar, that you are here and will recover is important."

"I imagine the druids are working overtime to prepare. I do not blame them, I simply hope that whatever they are doing is worth the danger to the patrols still."

Skielstregar is mostly dragged, very faintly limping along. Before long, he's set down into a cot meant for giantborn, and his limbs haggardly twitch to pull themselves onto the resting spot. His eyes slide shut, a lofty sigh leaving him, like an oppressive weight lifted from him. ".. yessss..." he murmurs to Vaera.

It takes his languid, thrashed, splintered mind a long moment to remark to Barclaiigh, "... Sh... ilde ma.. ke it?"

"Reckon she's fine, fella, but I ain't seen her..." Barclaiigh's smile is as much for his own benefit as that of the sith-makar. "They ain't got us doin' much t'gether... don't want us distracted. Smart, I suppose."

Reaching up with one hand, he begin to worry the carved token and boar's tusks hanging over his breastplate. The Khazadi druid chants, conjuring up green tendrils of Ea's own magics as he lays on hands. It's part refreshing breeze, part warm summer's day, and there's more than one spell to be had. He isn't the strongest healer but it's something to keep Skielstregar until the clerics arrive.

Standing back, Bar gives a sigh and eases his fetish back down, patting the tusks. "Union'll do all it can, miss Vaera. Promise ya. 'n not just cuz the Grove's important. Nothin' like a good rivalry t'stoke a fire."

"Last I saw, Shilde was alright." Vaera states once she is certain Skielstregar is settled into the bed and as comfortable as she can manage. "Rocky is alright, and Rocky, River Stone, was alright. I did not stick around though, I will admit, as I was too concerned about making sure you were alright. Perhaps a bad idea in the forests, when I myself did not make it out of that in the best of shape, but I managed."

"My thanks for the help Barclaiigh. I hope you are right, but you know the grove better than I might. My knowledge only comes from what news the hunters in Mictlan share with me."

Skielstregar's eyes flutter open as the breeze saps away some of the bone deep exhaustion; exertion for only the gods know how many number of hours. Though the warm summer's day makes him squirm slightly. Lacerations on his maw get knitted together, however, the magic taking.

But still it couldn't do anything for how haggard he looks. A Sunguard stops by after some minutes, an auburn haired half-oruch man. He sighs at seeing the state the drained silverscale was in. "It's one thing to purge sickness, but to expunge such taint..." Pinching the bridge of his nose. "We'll get preparations underway."

Come and gone, just like that, the Knight's work busy.

Skiel nods slowly. "... th.. anks.." he murmurs in a wheeze once more. "G... ood... but... yess.. not... good idea..."

"Anytime," Barclaiigh nods first to Vaera and then Skielstregar. He finds a jug and pulls a simple grey stone from his pocket, squeezing over the reservoir until a steady stream of clear water fills it. "Case y'all get thirsty..."

The container is set down on the floor near the cot and he stows the stone. "Feel better. 'n y'all stay safe as y'can." The dwarf tosses a thumb over his shoulder. "I gotta git; they're expectin' a report'n then it's time fer some shut-eye."

He takes a few steps and then stops, half-turning, "Easier roads, y'all."

"Well, thank you. I am sure that Skielstregar will need lots of water and food to recover. You should drink some now in fact, before you rest. I imagine you haven't had much in the past few days." Vaera states, doing her best to approximate what was almost a smile. "I will feel better, but it is Skielstregar who will need the assistance for feeling better. you have gone out of your way enough, so I wish you a safe journey and that your reports will go well."

Skielstregar tries to raise a hand, thought its more of a twitch of a few talons. "P... easse on your.... roads... water... thankss... nest," he quietly pants out.

Dead silver eyes squint in confusion as he gets some wires crossed.

It takes him a moment to register that Vaera was addressing him, and he gives a faint nod. "Jus...t.... pour the who... le bucket on... thisss one'sss face..."

He starts to laugh, but turns into a a brackish, hacking cough.

"This one can't do that, you know. Sleeping in a wet bed is not conducive to proper recovery, you know." The red makari chuffs with a rumbling chuckle. "Quiet now though, rest. Still need to get your armor afterwards, and you need to sleep."

Vaera looks for a mug to pour the jug into, offering it to the stricken sith-makar. "This one is glad you are alive and will be okay though, Skielstregar. This one was worried, seeing you run away as you did, how little this one saw. They will not lose their family, and cihuaa again."

"So rest up, and be safe, Skielstregar." Vaera rumbles, bumping her snout against his for a moment. "For this one's sake as well as yours."

-End Scene-