Runner
Unknown Location
FUCK THAT.Eshah,that was horrible. Runner's stomach churned, memories flooding her mind. Who she was… what her purpose was… what she experienced. It all crashed upon her psyche like a stone upon a ceramic cup. Needless to say, it was shocking and unpleasant.
Her survival instincts kicked in at a rapid speed. She would figure all that bullshit out later, for now, she needed to take stock of where she was. Why in the hells did her whole body ache? Stiff bandages covered much of her body, scratchy in places and tight in others. Besides those, she was stark naked. A feeling she did not appreciate in a place she did not know.
Speaking of, it appears that she is in some sort of tent. A very large one, based upon the tent wall behind her and the way the ceiling looked from this spot. She was lying on a cot under a drab green woolen blanket. She seemed to be boxed in on the remaining sides by white cloth screens, suspended from wooden poles set into the ground. Perhaps those were there to deter her from escaping. More likely there for privacy, but one could never be sure.
She slipped out from under the blanket and off of the cot, blinking in surprise to see some familiar items laid upon a small stool(the only other piece of furniture in this little subsection of the tent). It was her stuff. All the junk she had… was here. Her daggers, knives, pointy bits, and everything that was in her pack. It was all here. Even the pack was here. Her money was not even touched, still sitting in its seven varied hiding places across her clothes and accessories.
That was disconcerting as all hells.
As quickly and as silently as she could, Runner put her clothes on over the bandages. She would get them off later when she was safe. With her weaponry back within reach, Runner felt much better already. At least she was not unarmed in whatever fucked up situation she was in now.
The sound of someone stumbling about outside the curtains that hid her made her pause and slowly pull one of her daggers free from its sheath. She heard muttering, a man's voice, from out there. Straining her ears, she could make out what sounded like the drunken slurring of someone heavily under the influence. Cautiously, she peeked through the gap in the curtains towards the origin of the sound.
On the other side of the curtain was the center of this large tent. It looked to be some sort of medical tent, something she would have put together by now if she had not just had to piece together her entire life story in a matter of seconds, a fact that she still would have to address at some point. In the very center of the tent, there was what looked to be a large operating table. The bloodstained yet still heavily polished wood was not occupied at the moment by any patient but instead hosted several medical tools often utilized by holy people and flesh menders. Small saws, clips made of metal, and other pointy weird instruments that Runner could not even begin to guess what they were used for.
A few other tables and benches held other things of interest. A rack filled with herbs and plants, some fresh and some dried out. One table held at least ten different pestles and mortars, while another held a myriad of different jars of varying sizes. Several crates nearby were labeled as spare bandages.
The tent contained many more small subsections just like Runner's in a semicircular pattern, each hidden away behind white curtains. A few were open, revealing empty cots, but those were a few out of a dozen.
Runner's attention was not on all of these details. It was instead occupied solely by the two inhabitants of the room. There was one off in a corner, slumped over one of the tables in a state of exhausted sleep, that she recognized. The nice dwarven lady who had been so kind as to patch Baz and her up when they had their fight against the wolves. Melia? Yeah… she still owed her something. Melia was passed out, her winetus clothing still adorning her, with her head laying on her arms upon the table she leaned upon.
It was the other figure, then, that had made the noises and the drunken rambling. He was a large man, human, standing about six feet tall, maybe more. He was dressed in simple clothing, a slightly stained tan shirt, and leather breeches. He possessed a big barrel belly of someone who ate and drank plenty. His hair was fiery bronze(a mix of red and brown maybe?) and only covered the outer sides of his head, leaving the top of it with but a few wisps of fluff. His facial hair was much neater, organized into dozens of tiny little braids filled with beads of gold and silver. They clicked against each other each time he moved. His face was downright jolly, with a big nose, deep smile lines(practically ravines), and ruby-red cheeks. A constant flush was upon this man's face, his eyes not visible under a heavy brow and the bushy hair that grew upon it.
"A-an 'for ah ferget… it was ol' Ronni that kicked it off! Wasn't me… was just doin'-" He had to pause to hiccup and then belch. "Was just doin' wat ah was told… yeah?"
Runner quickly spotted the reason for this man's inebriation as he took a swig of something out of a tankard in one of his meaty hands. Great. She has no idea where she is, but she is in a tent with a potential ally and a drunkard. Fantastic.
Her gaze moved past the fat man to the tent flap behind him. The obvious way out of this tent, but who knows what is beyond there? She could faintly hear the sound of clanking metal and voices aplenty. All signs pointed to armored individuals… meaning they were likely guarding this place. Runner's eye twitched in annoyance. She hated not knowing where she was and what was going on.
"Excuse me… good sir?" A voice Runner recognized spoke out, coming from another one of the hidden cots. Selm? She was alive? A small, miniscule, eensy-weensy bit of relief filled Runner. For as much as the posh-acting dwarf had gotten on Runner's nerves, at least she was someone Runner had more experience with. The last view of Selm that Runner could remember… had not been pretty. "Would you kindly explain what is going on here?"
The large man turned his head towards that direction, suppressing another hiccup. "Oh, yer awake! Get dress'd an' come on out 'ere." His voice slurred frequently, but it was loud and hearty now that he was not muttering to himself.
Runner watched as Selm opened her curtain, revealing a similarly bandaged body. Her (admittedly) pretty blonde hair was pulled behind her head, tied into a loose braid that got it out of the way, and revealed her neck, also wrapped in bandages.
"What happened? Why… how am I alive? Tell me who that… that person was? What did they want from me? And where am I? Where are we?! I demand an explanation!" A whole slew of questions barraged the man, of which they just slid off of his drunk demeanor. He just stared dumbly at the dwarven woman, who at this point was out of breath. Out of breath and on the verge of a panic attack it seems. Runner felt some more annoying sympathy. She too wanted answers to all of those questions. She too felt ready to cry and scream at the drop of a pin. Every part of her was drained, emotionally and physically, leaving her with the feeling of frustration at a lack of answers and an ache that only an explanation would relieve.
"Woah there, calm yer self lil'un. Ah, can tell ye all 'bout stuff n' things when ye all get up. Shuddn't take but a minute more." He waved his tankard about, the liquid inside sloshing. Selm did not look to be placated in the slightest.
"All? The others survived?"
"Ayup."
"But how? I saw them get torn to shreds! I-I saw them… no one could possibly… oh gods." She let out a pitiful sound, holding a hand to her mouth.
Runner was hesitant, but upon hearing that the rest of them also survived, she figured now was better than never to reveal herself. At the very least, it did not appear that they were in danger. For now.
"Eshah… would you quit blubbering? You sound like a baby." She spoke, brushing past the curtain she hid behind. Selm looked at her in shock. Her eyes scanned Runner up and down in disbelief, searching for the wounds that she had sustained. Her chin quivered, doubtlessly in preparation to spout some retort towards the human woman.
Instead, Runner was surprised when she said "I… I am glad you are well. I-I am so… so glad." Her voice wavered near the end. It seems the situation was crashing down on her as hard(if not harder) than it was on Runner. Figures a sheltered little noble-woman would be weak against strenuous situations, especially in situations that made no sense to even people who lived day by day.
Runner had to look away in mild confusion. It was weird hearing someone say such a thing to her. Especially if that someone also began tearing up and crying, as Selm proceeded to do. It was enough to even distract her from another one of the curtains opening. Inathia had joined them, looking every bit as confused and scared as the Selm did.
Perhaps it was on an instinctual level or perhaps it was just their budding friendship, but Selm immediately rushed to the large dragonborn woman and wrapped her arms around her. "I-I-I am sooo glad your okaaaaayyyy." Her tears stained the simple brown shirt that Inathia had always been wearing with darkened spots. Her voice muffled as she aggressively sobbed into the cloth.
The dragonborn was beset by her sniffles and tears, but she looked a bit more awkward about returning the relieved affection. The golden yellow orbs of her eyes were misty and dripping salty tears onto the dwarf, who she eventually patted on the back. It seems that, unlike Selm, Inathia was not used to physical forms of interaction. Runner noted that she did not think Inathia hated it. Cool. Didn't help them at all right now.
It took only a few more minutes before both Baz and Yule revealed themselves as well. Runner made a small nod towards Baz, who returned it. Once again, she could not place why she trusted the half-orc so much. Even when they first met, barely a week ago, he was a total stranger in as dire straits as she was in. Yet he had this feeling around him. The feel of someone who has had a rough life but keeps on pushing anyway. It felt strangely honest. Runner, being anything but honest, found that both weird and interesting. Mostly weird.
"So we all made it out alive?" Runner said, looking at the two men and two women who were being paid to guard the cart. Oh shit. The cart. "Wait, maybe?" She quickly peeked her head into all of the other closed curtains. Nope, he wasn't here. "All of us but the sleazebag."
Baz scratched at the stubble on his jaw and nodded, looking a mite bit irritated at that. "Means we ain't gettin' paid."
"DAMMIT" Runner cursed. "Just PERFECT."
"Settle down. We fucked up the job anyways." Baz had a point. They were meant to guard the cart from any threats. But… how in the wide world of Azinara are you supposed to guard against that? It was like something out of a nightmare. It was a nightmare to live through.
"Doubt it matters now. We don't even know where the fuck we are at." She grumbled, still miffed about the lost silver. Silver would eventually find its way into her pockets, her life was another story. That experience was… weird. Not something Runner would like to experience more than once, if ever again.
She noticed that, by now, she had accrued a small collection of ointment bottles and surgical instruments in her pockets. Welp, guess fucking dying didn't get rid of the curse. Great! That is just perfect. Adding more shit to the shitpile that was this day. Runner put the stuff back despite there being no doubt in her mind that she would just find some of it in her pockets again later.
"I too have many questions for you," Yule spoke to the big man. "But seeing your condition… I doubt we will get many answers. At the very least, may we learn your name?" He was looking as calm and as collected as always, however Runner could see the nervous tightening of his grip on his staff and that slightly shaken expression that flitted across his face here and there. The very same one that she saw after saving him from that nasty arrow surprise a few days back.
"Don' ye wurry a thing… ye are in gooood hands 'ere! Kept ye from tippin' over there and 'eld ye together." The man chuckled, a rumbling noise from such a body. "Name huh… uhhh…"
Selm and Inathia's crying had lessened to the point of just a few sniffles and puffy eyes, both of them trying their best to pay attention to the now continuing conversation.
"Name's Bonesy! Yeah! That's it. Bonesy. Your good pal Bonesy!" The man let out a satisfied belch and laughed heartily, a big belly-filled laugh that filled Runner with a strange feeling of mirth.
And suspicion. Because that name was utter bullshit.