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originally posted in:The New Dojo
1/21/2018 4:55:35 AM
160
[b][i]Alone[/i][/b]
[b]Dojoville, Tatakai[/b]
[i]She woke up to find herself lying in the gutter on the side of an average street. Blinking her eyes, she took a deep breath and sighed, an expression of pain gripping her face. The cold was not helping. Forcing herself to her feet, she mentally cursed, the pain shooting through she entire body. Shakily, she observed her surroundings, and was quick to assume that she stood out. That was what years of training did... but those years of training didn’t prepare her for what she’d just survived. To any on the street, she was an almost disturbing sight. Her hair was a mess, looking as if she’d been through a nasty fight.
Her right eye was a milky white, the product of an orbital blowout fracture. Her clothes, a t-shirt and combat pants, were both shredded, cauterized slashes visible across her chest, stomach, arms, and legs. Bruises and burns dotted her form as well. Dried blood coated her clothes in various places, and she seemed to have dried blood across the side of her face as well. How she was even alive was a miracle, though if she stayed out in the cold for too much longer with no shoes and short sleeves, she was done for. She knew it, too, and weakly, she set about looking for any place to escape the cold, but most things appeared to be closed at that time of night. Alone for the first time in forever, the woman looked around, feeling small in a place she barely knew.[/i]
[spoiler]Open.
Working on a mini-plot here.[/spoiler]
English
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[i]”what happened here” came a voice from above. Suddenly a male khajiit slid of a roof top, landing on his feet. “Hmmm... you look very hurt. I’ll see what I can do about that. While I do why don’t you tell me what happened, and if you need a place to stay” the khajiit said. Instead of pulling out a medical kit, he pulled out a lute and started playing it. The music seemed to heal her wounds, but not that much. [spoiler]a lute is a string instrument Incase you where wondering and didn’t know what a lute is [/spoiler][/i]
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[i]The wounded woman did not speak, she couldn’t, though the Khajiit did not know that. She could hear him and his music, though at first she was completely confused. She thought him perhaps a moron to be playing music for her, until she realized that some of the bleeding was slowing, and the pain was beginning to abate, albeit slowly. It soon became clear that perhaps the Khajiit needed to do a little more than hope his magic instrument would work.[/i]
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The khajiit put away his instrument, realizing that it doesn’t do much. He wasn’t gifted in the arts of medicine, but one of his best friends was a doctor, so the khajiit Tried his best to clean her wounds. He also asked a lot of questions “Who are you What happened Who did this Do they have easily takable possessions Do you need a place to stay?” He looks at her strangely when she doesn’t answer. Then he cast a spell around the area, then gets back to cleaning her wounds [spoiler]basically the spell was to detect any magical things anywhere in the area [/spoiler]
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[i]She needed real medical attention, and likely to be taken out of the street gutter where she lay. Nonetheless, she was grateful for his assistance. Anything was helpful. As he asked her a barrage of questions, her only response was to weakly open her mouth, revealing that her tongue had rather brutally been cut out. His spell found nothing of magical quality anywhere nearby.[/i]
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Thunk. Thunk. The sound of heavy combat boots echoed in the silent, dark night. It came from behind her in her weak search, before a man called out to her. He was the wearer of the black boots, with a heavy black winter coat, and snow pants. The hood up, it was near impossible to see his face except for the thick red beard. "Ah! Alyssa ol' pal! Been so long!" He jogged up to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and pressing her against his side, with a low whisper. "I can see you ain't okay. Stay with me." He unzipped his jacket with his free hand, and opened it up, gesturing to her. "You're gonna freeze, lass. Stay inside. If you really can't make it, I'll carry ya."
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[i]She was confused for a moment, but realized that she’d met the man before under a false name, which was something she usually did. Him helping her to her feet and squeezing her hurt really badly, and she wanted to scream, but only a weak groaning sound came out. Pushing her inside, she winced again. Pressure on that ankle coupled with the wounds all over her were not making this easy. She wasn’t talking either, which perhaps seemed strange. It looked as if there was more to this than met the eye.[/i]
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Dale looked her over, his green eyes seemingly shining under the hood now that she had a better view. With concern, he decided it was best to carry her, and get her to the tavern. His wife would know what to do. "Brace!" He swept under her, picking her up with one arm under her knees, and the other on her back. He turned backwards and began jogging, so that most the wind from the run wouldn't burn the woman's skin. "I don't know who ya are, obviously. That said, you gotta tell me what happened after you get some rest. Not now." Probably those thugs he tried so hard to get rid of, as if this place wasn't dangerous enough.
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[i]Him lifting her sent a jolt of pain through her body, again drawing the groan. Looking around, she was still bothered by what had happened to her right eye. Her depth perception for the time being was beyond screwed up. Being as she hurt and he was offering help, she made no efforts to escape.[/i]
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While the woman couldn't see where they were going, they quickly a ended steps and burst through a wooden door. By now, most the tavern guests were asleep, with only the bartender cleaning the glasses. It was... Generic, accept for a massive bonfire that fed smoke into a glowing blue symbol, where it disappeared. Dale carefully lay the injured person on the counter, and nodded to the bartender. She was not exceptionally muscular as he was, and if anything rather frail. She stood seven inches above the five foot mark, with long, smooth black hair that reached her elbows, like a creature out of a fairy tale. When she spoke, it was similarly relaxing as the man's voice, but rather than deep and calm, it was soothing, like a silk. "[i]What happened? Er- on second thought I won't ask.[/i]" She began looking over the injured woman, gliding her hands on the parts that were not cut up with a curious look, before reaching under the bar to grab a set of brushes and black paint. "It'll hurt, maybe more than the pain you are in now, but any non-permanent injuries will be gone." The woman traced a black rune on the injured girl's body, mutter to herself. Then, quickly, she pulled a match out and lit the paint on fire. It definitely burned. Any injuries felt like they were on fire, just like the symbol... However the symbol caused no pain where it was. Wounds closed with freighting speed and excruciating pain, blood crawling back into the woman's legs front he floor below, and outside the tavern, reconnecting nerves and flesh. By the time the healing was done, the symbol had been burned off, with only a faint mark left. "[i]I'll go get a blanket, try to stand up, lass.[/i]" And with that the lady was gone.
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[i]The injured woman was, aside from her injuries, by all means gorgeous. Her form was nigh-perfect, everything proportional and just large enough. However; that beauty had been crushed by whoever had gotten their hands on her. Her right eye was now a milky white, the product of an orbital blowout fracture, meaning she was half-blind. On her shoulder, between the torn parts of her shirt, there was a brand, that of a sparrow in flight. From her neck down, someone looked to have had a field day with a knife and a blowtorch. Bruises and other marks dotted her torso, and it was pretty clear that she had definitely suffered some internal injuries. Her legs and feet were also sliced and burned as well. She was quite surprised when the woman began to paint on her stomach, the touch of the bristles making her squirm. When the paint was ignited, however, she jolted and tried to scream, a pathetic sort of guttural whine escaping her lips, revealing that her tongue had been rather brutally removed. Everything hurt like hell... just like that damned blowtorch. She felt her cracked ribs heal, her ankle go back into place, and it was hell all over again. Once the rune had completely burned away, everyone noticed that the marks had not gone away. Most of her injuries were permanent, bound to leave her covered in scars and scar tissue. Nonetheless, at least her wounds were now healed and no longer tender. Laying on the table, she breathed heavily, chest rising and falling sharply.[/i]
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The "healer" from before can back in, her long black hair tied into a ponytail so that it wouldn't fall while hovering over the injured woman. She had brought a bucket of water, and another with nothing in it. Soaking a towel she had thrown over her shoulder, she placed if on the forehead of the other woman. The water was a cool contrast to the heat from before. The large man placed the empty bucket on the floor beside the counter. "If you need to hurl, it's okay." "[i]I'm Elincia, owner of the tavern. I'd ask your name if... Well, when you're feeling better, I'll grab some pen and paper. For now, just rest. [/i] The woman began humming a tune, with no extra purpose but to help the injured girl sleep. Seeing as she had it under control, the large man spoke up in the silence. "I already got it." He placed the clipboard by the woman incase she needed it, as well as the supplies. "When you're ready, I want to know details. Who? Why? I'd love to keep you here, but I can't have it end up putting us in d-" [i]When you are ready, darling. [/i] The large man backed off, crossing his arms with a huff.
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[i]Her panicked breathing slowed, and it seemed that she was calming herself down rather quickly. She had to admit that the cool towel was a pleasant change and quite welcome. It took her some time to get into a calm enough state, but she was nodding off. The pain and the experience that had left her so wounded were finally taking their toll. She’d barely heard the man mention paper before she was out like a light.[/i]
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When the woman woke up, she was in a wooden room, with a single window, that showed a blue sky. The night had passed, and the clock read 9:32 AM. Her bed was unbelievably soft, for its plain white appearance, and the lamp on her night dresser was the only but of furnishing. Chatter floated into her room through the door, lively and bright, like the morning she woke up to. It seemed the tavern was back in swing. At the bar, the woman from before was nowhere to be found, only the large man from before. He was working, waiting, for his guest to get up.
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[i]She almost didn’t want to pull herself out of the bed, it was probably the nicest feeling she’d had since before everything went to hell. Eventually, though, she stood up, and shivered, the floor a little too cold for her. Nonetheless, she stretched to make sure everything was really healed, and despite a little bit of stiffness, she felt actually half-normal again. Finding that all was well, she turned to room’s mirror, and fixed her hair, pulling part of it down to cover her blind eye. Her past made these new flaws rather painful to her. As satisfied as she would be, she slunk out into the tavern, making nigh a sound. Still in the same bloodied and torn clothes, she did look better, much more a member of the land of the living, though she began to think that maybe something less exposing would be more appropriate.[/i]
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The door led straight into a hallway which connected to the main tavern bar and breakfast. A guest room. However, as soon as she exited, she was pushed back by the same woman from before. "[i]They'll think we're murderers with clothes like that, here![/i]" The woman shoved a plain white tee and sweatpants at her guest, before closing the door, and running off. It seemed that the tavern was busy, and she wouldn't have much time to talk. Perhaps the door had an alarm of sorts for when it was opened.
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[i]She was a little startled by the woman who’d randomly showed up, but nonetheless she was grateful for the gift of clean clothes that didn’t smell like dried blood and burned flesh. She backed back into her room, and changed into the clothes she’d been given, tossing her others straight into the trash can in the guest room. Now with at least clean and warm clothes, she attempted to walk out again, heading down the hallway and towards the main tavern.[/i]
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When she exited the hall, the woman was already gone, dancing around the tables with plates of food in an elegant fashion. People cheered and drank, especially to the music of a bard by the fire. It was... Warm. That was how to describe it. Everyone seemed on good terms with each other, at least. The large man, seemingly stone cold from before had warms up, gesturing to an empty table with a grunt. He moved from behind the bar, as no one was there anyways and took at seat at the mentioned table. "Take a seat, we'll get you some... Well, I hope you can eat it."
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[i]It was a welcome change from the rather dark world of an assassin. She hadn’t often been in places like this unless she was there to bed and kill someone. That probably wasn’t something she wanted to bring up... As he sat down and gestured to her, she smiled politely and took a seat opposite of him.[/i]
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[spoiler]Sorry, cleared notifs on accident. [/spoiler] The man looked at her, as his companion placed a plate of pancakes in front of him with a head pat, and a rather nasty looking smoothy in front of the woman, tan and white in color. "We... Figured solid food would be hard. It's just what I have in front of me with some milk and water." He leaned back with a sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers, and placing the paper and pencil in front of her. "So. What happened?"
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[i]The smoothie had not been something she expected, the color reminding her a little too much of a cadaver. Perhaps waiting with it would be the best... As for the pencil and paper, she took it, and hesitantly began to write. After a few minutes, she slid the paper around so he could read it.[/i] [b]If you’re going to get rid of me after this, I understand. You’ve already been far too kind to me. Someone who I thought I could trust betrayed me and handed me over to someone who I’d wronged in the past. He proceeded to torture me for information on the man who betrayed me, and I admitted to him that I had also been the one to have wronged him. He wanted to make me suffer for what I did to his daughter and I can’t blame him. He dumped me here when he finished, I think. [/b]
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Dale listened with a blank expression, stone cold. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but it wasn't long after she spoke that the man responded to her words. "His daughter?" Several seconds went by, and he took a bite of the food laid before him, and continued, leaning across the table to look at her. "Am I harboring a criminal, Ms.?"
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[i]There was a long pause, and she looked down and away from him. This was a moment of an internal struggle she’d never had to deal with, but something kept telling her that now was the the time to be honest. She wrote on the paper a single word before handing it over to him.[/i] [b]Yes.[/b] [i]She expected the worst.[/i]
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Instead, the man leaned back, rubbing his forehead. He once was a criminal, under much less pain than she was, but he still hated the cold cell he was placed in. Wiping the sweat off his hand on his shorts, he spoke again. "You said you don't blame the man. Who was he?" Dale was keen to get information. Mostly so if he encountered the torturer, he wouldn't get tortured himself. That said, he was also curious. It seemed the criminal statement went by undetected. Perhaps he was biding time until he knew what he wanted. "And why?"
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[i]She took the paper back, and hesitated for a moment, before swallowing and deciding to continue her honesty. After a few moments of writing, again she turned the paper to him.[/i] [b]I used to be an assassin. I was part of an ancient organization, I had been brought into it by the man who led it. He saw promise in me, he said. He raised me to use my body to manipulate people, seduce for information and kill. I liked it for a while. Before this, I was assigned to demoralize the man who did this to me to keep him from respecting the regulations of his government. I was to aid in the kidnapping of his daughter and her sale into prostitution. I did, and I[/b] [i]She stopped writing, and slid the paper over. Admitting to acts as such were not easy, and she wasn’t exactly in the position to want to be dead, or thrown out onto the streets again.[/i]
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The large man simply stated at the paper. He wasn't keeping a criminal with him, he was keeping a monster. Unlike the deep voice before, it came out as a small whisper, as if he was deciding his position in his head. "You..." His right hand was under the table, to hide the clenched fist shape. The other was calm, but placed on his lap. "[i]Liked[/i] it?" Memories of his crime flooded him, which he quickly calmed, but not before Dale saw the man's face, caved in, dripping in blood. "Do you realize the weight you are carrying? For all I know, you could just be trying to get on my side, then stab me for my money, take my wife and leave... But I'll give this a chance. Obviously, you're not in the position to be killing. Three days, you can rest, maybe find a job, get back on your feet. After that... You should leave."
