Completed Old Dreams and the Sea

[Garrod Arlette]

"Wait!" a voice called out, familiar and frail. Shaken as it was, William wormed his way through the angered crowd. "Wait," he went on breathlessly. "Lady Elinyra," he added, stumbling over his words.

Viktor was no where in his hands, just the wet mess that stained his robes, and the black ooze that still smeared about his face.

"Out with it you little creep!" the kivren snapped.

William went wide eyed, stammered. "She- the elf druid, she did what she could to put the flames out, she had, she had no part in the burning of the lighthouse,"

The rabble roused, grumbled, and the kivren's frown only stiffened. He spat. "Then we throw the... spell blade into the brig," he said, his eyes cutting back to the downed hunter, white-armored hand still wrapped tight around the sword's hilt. "Grab him up!" a few strong arms set to work, and moved to hunter.

William said nothing more, though his eyes begged Elinyra for patience. To understand.

"He... he ain't lettin go of the sword!" one of them called out.

The sea crashed against the cliffs, and the spray misted across the ruined lighthouse. Across the gathered.

---

When Garrod came to, he was in a cell. Cramped, and feverish. His lips dry, his body wet from sweat and a horrid pain in his gut which he clutched at with both hands.

Belephus glint before him. Plate oily looking and slick.

Ah. You've awakened, Oh Bearer Mine, the demon laughed. Though I watch you dream, how I do prefer you in the waking.

The hunter blinked. Felt a cold fear wrap its icy fingers about his spine. His skin prickled across his body. He gasped, and felt the hoarse rasp of his throat, chords spasmed behind muscle and skin, as if pulled too tight. He tried to lift himself up, but felt his head swim in a thick fog. Felt the sweat about him, and the cold floor beneath him. He fell back to the ground. Pant.

"Water..." he croaked.

The Jailer was napping, blissfully unaware of his stirrings.

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Frogs and crickets murmured furtively in the surrounding swamp, their secrets muffled by the jail's thick stone walls. The night crept on in its measured gait, stretched longer in the mind of one tormented by thirst and fear. Maybe Garrod slept, or else kept his eye on the moonlight shifting through a single iron-barred window far away from his cell. The jailer didn't wake; no one came to give him either water or judgment until after the sun's rays teased through the window of a building forever cold and damp. The cells themselves were built of roughly-hewn stone blocks, while the rest of the structure was made of wood planks that stunk of pitch and mold.

The jailer eventually brought Garrod a bowl of water that looked like it had been gathered from a ditch. A tall man, dark of skin and hair, he had an alert posture of readiness in every movement. It was unusual for the constable of a small town. The experienced mercenary had seen the bored, glazed-over expressions of at least a few village constables in his time. This man had seen some strange things.

The jailer had nothing to say to Garrod as he pushed the clay bowl through a slot set into the gate. The slot was just large enough for the dish to fit through. Or a hand, if someone wished to get it stuck between forged iron.

It was well into the morning when Garrod heard the jail's front door open. A wall kept him from seeing anything, but he could hear the jailer's voice speaking indistinctly from an adjacent room before the imposing man returned.

"Breakfast," he announced in a quiet voice that seemed at odds with his stature. "Lucky you had some friends on that ship. Usually I only give arsonists burned bread."

He stood aside to let the elf through.

Elinyra was holding a bowl of some dark-colored broth. Exhaustion had set itself in dark circles beneath her eyes. One side of her face was cut and slightly swollen. She wasn't wearing her robe anymore; rather, she had a rather ill-fitting set of tunic and pants.

"Could we have a minute?" she asked the jailer. He paused, setting a hard glance on his prisoner, then finally relented with a nod.

"Don't take long," he said before going back into the other room.

She remained silent as she slid the bowl of food through the slot with the caution of an animal keeper facing a hungry gryphon. She wasn't sure what to say to him considering all that had happened last night, so she only watched his expression for a moment with a look somewhere between pity and regret.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Every breath felt like a struggle. Like it came ragged and took effort. Garrod's muscles, his joints. His bones. They all ached. They always ached when It took him. When he lit It in.

My... How you wound me, Oh Bearer Mine, the demon teased. Afraid to even think my name. It laughed. Sharp and cruel with wicked gleaming teeth.

His eye wide as it stared at the ceiling. Red and dry from being wide and open as the silver light of the moons turned to the golden light of day's sun.

The Jailer stirred. Gathered something, and whence he returned, he passed through the bars a bowl of clay. Garrod could see it from the corner of his eye. Let out a breath, and rolled onto his right side. Felt something like a stone in his stomach shift and stir and stab at is innards. He grit his teeth, and dragged himself toward the vessel. Stopped before it.

The hunter panted breath, and grabbed it with shaking left hand. His hand still. Brought the bowl to his lips. Drank it greedily. The shake of his limbs caused some to spill over. To dribble and run about his face. A bit of silt and grit caught in his throat and he sputtered out his drink.

It splashed onto the stone floor with a wet slap, and Garrod coughed, a fit, pain flaring in his throat and in is chest and spreading hot across his lungs, as if red sharp fingers clutched each in bone-fire grasps and squeezed tight. Dug in claws and spurs.

Tears ran down his face, cold against his skin. His head hung in defeat and he grit his teeth. If only to ground himself.

The hours bled on.

He laid on his side. Back to the light. He had succumb to sleep again, and his body rose and fell with the swell of primal breaths. The simple instinct to go on living. Operating. Surviving. His mind too raw to think. To process. What horrors had he committed?

The jailer's steps stirred him to wake. Part of his old memories reminding him of pains felt upon hearing such sounds in such places. He willed himself to turn, to sit up. If he would be beat. If he would be battered. He would at least look at them first. Meet their eye, and muster what will he had left.

But words were given instead. A sight familiar. He stared at Elinyra wide eyed. Fresh tears welled about his green stare, and glittered with sunlight.

"You're alive," he said in a rasp of voice. Like ash and spent embers of the warm rumble he usually spoke in. He smiled and looked away. "I worried..." but he would not say it. Too glad that he was but an arsonist.

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Hearing Garrod's words, seeing the tears streaming down his face - Elinyra's expression softened. He struck her like a confused child unsure of why he'd been disciplined; afraid of what was happening beyond his control. Yet it proved difficult to entirely see him as a man when the image of the demon plagued her when she looked at him. Was it still toying with her, even now?

He looked ragged, spent. Like the demon had eaten a part of him too.

"You don't remember, do you? What happened at the lighthouse?" she asked gently. She wasn't sure whether or not she hoped he did. Perhaps it was better if he didn't know.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

He kept his missing eye hidden. He shifted with some effort, let his bottom rest against the stone floor and one leg out long. He brought up his unwounded leg, a knee to his chest and wrapped his arm around it.

His gambeson was stiff and smelled of stale sweat and dried ichor and mess. He could smell the smoke.

"Bits and pieces," he confessed, voice muted some behind the shield of his aching flesh. "The tree. Viktor, your blood streaked face staring me down as... something held me back," he sighed and bowed his head against his knees. "I know I called for It," he said, some shame in his voice. He grit his teeth, and his right hand flexed tight, still bound in the relic. It normally wasn't so bad. It normally did not take so much of him.

We have grown closer to each other, Oh Bearer Mine. The smiling Hunger whispered sweet.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

"You didn't harm me. Nor William," she admitted as a small measure of comfort, letting her gaze fall to the floor. She wanted to tell him that it wasn't really him doing those things, in any case, but he did have to take some responsibility for calling the demon forth.

"Why?" The question seemed to spill across the stones and fill the empty spaces between the bars of his cell. Elinyra paused to glance over towards the front office before lowering her voice and taking a step closer to keep their conversation private. "Why did you make a contract with a demon, Garrod? What did it offer you?"

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

The comforts did little to ease the dread that hollowed him out. Made the ache in his stomach all the more felt. Whatever he had eaten, sitting there like a brick.

He could put one and two together. The tree. The gauntlet. The demon.

"Offer me?" he parroted. Pulled out from his pool of misery, his eye looked to her, narrowed with effort and scrutiny all the same. He thought on it a while. The time they had joined. Made their pact.

All that came to mind was the green fire. Pieces of the moment. He remembered laying face down against something warm. His vision darkenning. The Five Roses. Their seal inked into the skin over his heart. He was the Black Rose. He knew that much. They were his band. Foolhardy and young, every one of them.

"My life," he said simple and matter of fact. A cold and uncomplicated truth. "It saved me," his voice grew tense, as if disgusted by the admission. "I... I didn't want to die," he turned his, rest his brow against his knee once more. "Not like that,"

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Garrod's explanation gave Elinyra an angry knot in her stomach; not at him, but rather at the evil that had taken advantage of him in a moment of weakness. An evil that continued to take advantage of him. She wished she had some kernel of wisdom that could help him be rid of it, but her knowledge on the subject of demons was regrettably sparse. She wasn't even sure if someone who'd made such a pact could escape from it.

She sighed. She wasn't sure what the town would decide to do with him, or how she could help him... No, she wasn't the one in the position to help him, but she knew someone who might be.

"I will return," she promised him and turned to leave. Leaning back comfortably in the lone chair in the front office, the jailer gave her a slow nod of farewell as she departed before promptly returning to ignoring the reports on his desk.

It took her at least an hour to track down the captain of the Sea Demon. Eventually she found him in the inn, where he was already a few pints into his day. A few tables over, Filoa and Shi Lynn were playing a game with some small wooden tokens while watching him from the corners of their eyes.

“Captain Ehgrak, are you aware of what has happened to your hired help, Garrod?” Elinyra asked the dwarf, though the smell of liquor that suffused him was almost enough to make her think twice about starting this conversation. She wasn’t sure if she should be more impressed or worried that a dwarf appeared to be drunk.

"Aye, I heard. The whole o' the wharf rats've stopped work on the Demon to rebuild the fuckin’ lighthouse. And I've already gotten holy hell from the constable, the dock master and some fuckin' clerk. 'Tis a right fuckin' mess! What the 'ell was Garrod doing up 'ere?! Not protecting the ship, 'at's for damned sure!" he tipped his frothy beer up to his already-soaked beard and tilted his head back to chug it as if he was taking the saying of drowning one's sorrows literally.

Elinyra glanced over to Filoa and Shi Lynn’s table. Shi Lynn turned her head towards Elinyra and subtly shook her head. Don’t bother.

He was protecting me, she wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead she joined the two other women at their table.

“Before you say anything, I don’t know what you expect us to do about it. There’s been a fire, the town needs someone to blame, he was there. You’re lucky you didn’t get thrown in the brig too,” Shi Lynn said, focusing once again on the collection of pieces scattered on the table.

“Maybe the captain could pay bail? I mean, he did fight off those wraith slugs on the ship. Seems we owe him a bit, doesn’t it?” Filoa chimed in, keeping her voice down to avoid the attention of their inebriated captain.

Shi Lynn huffed. “I’ll bet you a whole turkey dinner he won’t.”

“Throw in a bottle of Spinner’s Gin, and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Filoa retorted with a teasing grin.

“Shouldn’t we-” Elinyra started to cut in, but Shi Lynn turned to Eghrak with a shrill whistle that got his immediate attention- along with that of everyone else in the vicinity. She gave him a rundown of the nature of their bet.

“Pay his FUCKIN’ BAIL?! I’ve half a mind to... Aye, I'll beat it out of his hide!” the dwarf roared, roused from his chair so violently that he kicked the table before stumbling at a brisk pace out the door.

Elinyra turned to the two sailors and threw up her hands in frustration. They shrugged in response.

“We should probably go get the cap’n before he gets himself thrown in the brig too,” Shi Lynn finally admitted with a sigh.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Elinyra was gone, and he sat for a long, quiet moment. They would likely put him to hard labor, if they didn't just hang him.

A lighthouse was a great thing to lose. Rickety and strange as that one had been.

His eye caught the glint of his gauntlet. The way its surface seemed to shimmer and smoke. Like oil across water. Shadows globbed across its surface. Its eye, milky and opalescent, glint with satisfaction.

Oh, worry not, Bearer Mine, I would not let them take you in such a... drab fashion.

His skin prickled, as a shiver ran up his spine. He looked away. Saw a bowl of darkly colored broth, steam rising from its surface in lazy languid tendrils. He reached out to it with his left hand, and took it into his grasp. Smelled it. Earthy, and robust. Clean. The smell alone seeming to bring with it some vitality.

He raised it to his lips, and drank from it. It went down easy. Still warm. If soothed the ache of his throat, and all that felt so charred and wrong inside of him.

---

In the hours that followed, Garrod would doze to sleep. The horrid ache in his stomach, quelled some by the black soup. The bits and pieces of spicy root vegetable, and chunky flesh of slug, or leach, helped steady him. Actual food. Soothed whatever rot was burning in his stomach, so used to turning the strange and unfamiliar into fuel.

Someone entered the Jail.

"Popular little fire starter, isn't he," the Jailer said without so much as looking up.

William cleared his throat. "Yes well," he adjusted his coat, and laid down a fine broach upon the Jailer's desk. "I've come to see if I cannot set the record straight," the broach twinkled of a silver so fine, it seemed to be traced by starlight. Sparkling and glittering, a pure and cosmic white.

"Huh," the Jailer said plainly. Eyes wide as they regarded the treasure laid so plainly upon his table by the apothecary, and lighthouse keeper.

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

The constable was an understanding man. He understood that the Crossroads wasn't a city run by paladins and magistrates, and thus the letter of the law was from a much more changeable alphabet. He understood that his title was loosely bestowed by the powers-that-be, who were a hell of a lot scarier than any paladin or magistrate could hope to be. It was a front, mainly, to keep the recent waves of outsiders to their own business while maintaining a friendly enough visage to neighbors to keep the flow of money incoming. A front that - for the sake of his own continued livelihood - he put on very well.

He also understood what William was trying to do with his bribe. The constable had nothing against it; stranger transactions happened every day, some with money, some with magic, some more exotic and questionable. Ultimately, the fate of those who transgressed in Crossroad Mire was at the mercy of those with the most powerful magic. Old Harrier Wren might not care one way or other about the fire, but others might be interested in finding out how the spellblade did it.

He glanced thoughtfully at the offered treasure before saying with a careful casualness, "he's just another pirate, right? Nothing out of the ordinary. My understanding is, he set off a ward of some kind in the lighthouse trying to steal something, got his ass set on fire, burned down the place. Nothing Wren or any of our other influential friends would care to bother with."

The constable turned his eyes up at William meaningfully; the way agreements and understandings were usually reached in Crossroads Mire.

"Next time, make your wards out of something that doesn't set fire to wood," he said with a tight grin and picked up the trinket.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

William smiled at the constable. Though it was the feintest curl of lips, and twinkle in his eye.

The jailer knew the score. More than William could imagine, but, well. Sometimes it was better to be lucky than good, as they said around the town.

The young necromantic apothecary gave a nod, "That's right," he said, and the constable got up out of his chair, easy like, and strode over to the jail cell.

---

Garrod was startled awake by the sound of the cell door coming unlocked. The when of when exactly he had drifted to sleep was a mystery. The soup, hearty and nourishing, had felt like a minor miracle. The warmth of it alone restored a sense of vitality, gave his muscles some strength to help him move easier as he got up to see the constable coming. The tall man looked down at him, his two eyes met Garrod's one.

"Bail paid," he said simply, and took the key to the lock of the door. A click, harsh and cold, and the gate came ajar, if only by a hair. The jailer's hand took hold of the bars, and slid the door open with an iron scrape. A clank. The metal rang out.

Garrod grinned. His cheek ran wet with a trail of a stray tear.

They could not hold you, even if they wanted, Oh Bearer Mine. His demon whispered.

The Hunter stood, weak, near stumbling. He steadied himself, and dragged himself out. A free man. If only for the moment.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

"What th' fuck do ye mean, he's gone?!" Captain Ehgrak slurred and thumped the constable's desk with one fist.

"I told you, his bail was paid," the jailer replied patiently, looking the dwarf in the eye with a grin that said try me. "And if you don't get out of my face, you'll be warming the cell he was in."

Filoa, Shi Lynn and Elinyra were all standing at a safe distance behind the captain in case he suddenly burst into flames. They'd tried to talk him out of coming to the jail to presumably pick a fight with Garrod, but he'd marched down here in a drunken fury as if sent by hell itself.

"I think I've won the bet," Filoa whispered to Shi Lynn. The half-orc chuckled in response, her bottom lip curling up over one short tusk in a triumphant smile.

"Nah, the bet was if the captain would pay the bail. He can't pay what's already been paid, so you lost sister."

Filoa's pout was cut short when both of them saw the same imminent disaster.

"Cap'n, no!--"

The damage to his ship, the loss of his comrades; it all wore Ehgrak to his breaking point. Something finally drove the dwarf overboard enough to throw a punch at the constable, or at his desk (they were not quite sure which it was). The sailors both launched themselves forward in a futile attempt to stop him before he did something stupid.

The constable had the dwarf on the ground before anybody could manage much of anything. In a feat of impressive strength, he dragged the captain into the nearest cell and locked him in. It must have been like hauling a brick that was kicking and shouting obscenities the entire time.

"Now how are we supposed to pay the captain's bail?!" Filoa lamented while Shi Lynn just put a hand to her forehead with a frustrated sigh.

"Don't you worry none, ladies. I'll just leave him in there to cool off for awhile," the constable said and returned to his desk with a laugh while Eghrak continued to hurl insults from his cage.

"Blessed by Kiva, that one. Stormy as the sea sometimes," Shi Lynn chuckled.

Elinyra watched all of this with muted concern. Well, at least the captain would be safe here. She came up to the constable's desk once Filoa and Shi Lynn had left.

"Sir, I feel that I must share what I've learned about your lighthouse keeper. Before the fire, he admitted to necromancy and defiling the dead to create some sort of construct," she explained. There was no easy way of saying it, especially since she herself felt uncertain of what she thought about the healer and his strange ways. To her surprise, he laughed at her.

"You outsiders always seem to think you're in Alliria. Or in your case, is it Fal'Addas?" he replied, his eyes focusing on Elinyra's pointed ears. He planted his elbows in the desk and leaned forward with a serious frown. "Word of advice to the wise: keep your head down around here."

"I assure you, as soon as our ship is repaired we will be on our way," she muttered before leaving. She waved farewell to Filoa and Shi Lynn on her way out. She would see them again, once the ship was repaired. What she wondered was where Garrod had gone to? Would he be on the ship, come time to depart, or go his own way now that at least one person aboard knew his secret?

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"So you see, I am quite thankful to you, Master Garrod, quite thankful indeed," William prattled on, carrying a bundle of groceries under hand.

Garrod hid his face beneath the hood of his cloak. "Right," he said as he fixed the roughspun cloth, and hurried behind William's trail. "And now we are more than even,"

"Hmm, yes, even, as much as I'd like to keep a man like you in my pocket, in a place like this, even sounds... about right," William mused.

Garrod grumbled, and didn't say much else. He owed the man. They both knew it. But a deal in his favor never hurt. Least, not usually.

They made their way through the town. "Truly though," the Apothecary said softly. "If it weren't for you Viktor would have perished... or that... growth,"

Garrod stayed silent, bent low with his eye on the ground.

A clearing of the throat. "Well, probably best to let those memories rest some time, hmm? We are alive, and well... well sort of," he said and looked back at the Hunter. "You are feeling well, after all that - Oh, is that Lady Elinyra?" Willam asked.

Garrod's eye came up, and searched.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Elinyra was lost in her thoughts as she came out of the jail and into the early afternoon sunshine. Even with the broad daylight shining down and the wind blowing in from the sea, everything still somehow held the reek of swamp decay and dead fish.

She thought about what the demon had called her. Gwywedigaeth. Blight. Plague. It had put a terrifying name to her predicament. She held onto that fear for a few moments, entertained it until it pressed into the deepest parts of her psyche like a dagger against her throat.

Then she turned her thoughts to Garrod and his own ordeal. It was clear that he thought he'd killed Elinyra when he was possessed. Even though he'd been freed from the physical prison, he was no more free a man so long as that demon held any sway over him.

She'd go find him. If not for the sake of hope, then because she'd promised to come back to him with help.

Turning around, she considered where someone like him might go to hide, or to escape. Then she caught sight of William's slender form walking side-by-side with a cloaked but - as far as she was concerned - unmistakable figure. A small relieved smile broke the icy expression on her face as she approached them.

"Might I join you two?" she asked, glancing sideways at Garrod trying to be inconspicuous. She could put two and two together, though it gave her a pang of guilt to know that she'd just tried to turn in William when he'd helped them once all was said and done.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

William smiled, bright eyed when he saw the druid. "Lady Elinyra!" he said gladly.

Garrod smiled warmly, and gave her a nod from beneath the cover of his hood. "Of course," he answered for both of them.

To that, William did scoff. "Well! I mean," he cleared his throat and nod. "I suppose Master Garrod is not wrong," he said with cool exhale. "You are most welcome! I..." he said as his eyes cast away. "I am not used to having others speak for me," His pinched brow twitched some, and his lips were down turned. But he smiled easy and nod, his eyes back to the druid. "Yes, join us, I was just about to fix up some mid-day vittles, a roast foul, and some root vegetables," he said with a proud smile, giving the sack of goods he held a smack.

The Hunter smirked, and looked away from both Elinyra and William. How odd. He could not help but think. That they would eat together after well. All that transpired the night of fire. His stomach still felt as if there were something there in. The broth had helped, but, much still lingered.

"Let's carry on then, shall we?" William said, leading them on and out of the village.

Garrod smiled, soft and tender. "Sorry about well," he scratched the back of his head with his left arm. "Everything, really,"

"Come on then! We'll have time for all this over luncheon,"

---

William's cabin was a single room affair. A cot in the far corner, a cookfire in an old iron oven. Pots and pans hanging from the rafters, and a small table not too far.

There were beautiful plants hanging from the walls, and stacked upon shelves. And like the lighthouse, books were crammed all around. Garrod had helped start the fire, and William did most of the cooking.

"I'll let you know when and if I need assistance," he told hem both, busy spreading salt over the featherless duck carcass. "Actually, Garrod, can you help cut the potatoes, you look handy with a knife,"

Garrod nod. William wasn't wrong about that.

On one of the shelves, a large eyeball floated around inside a strange orange liquid. It seemed to stare at Elinyra and Garrod, and there was a happiness to its gaze. It gurgled a sound that almost formed the phrase. Friend,"


Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

"Thank you." She joined them with a grateful smile, though she regarded William guiltily as they walked. "I feel that I owe you an apology. I misjudged you. I get the feeling that happens to you quite often, but that is no excuse for my attitude towards you before. I was... afraid, mostly."

Garrod, too, shared his feelings about the whole affair and offered an apology for things he could not change. Elinyra considered her response, but it was William who cleared the air for the moment. He was right; a good meal could make a difficult conversation easier.

They left the crowded shanties that comprised the town behind. Elinyra scoffed silently as she glanced back; she would be glad to put many miles of ocean between her and the Crossroads. Soon they were surrounded by swamp broken only by gradual little mounds of peat and dirt that barely comprised hills. A lone cabin stood, as all structures in this marsh must, on stilts in the boggy soil. Frogs were singing in the warm mid-day sun from stagnant pools of water off of the trail. Mosquitoes and gnats buzzed noisily all around.

The interior of the cabin was a bit cramped with all of them inside, but there was still an inviting coziness to the home. If nothing else, it was a barrier to the blood-seeking insects outside.

Ill let you know when and if I need assistance, he told hem both, busy spreading salt over the featherless duck carcass.

"Please do!" she replied while looking around at William's collection of exotic plants. Fascinating flora - some of them almost seeming to be magical in nature. She found that studying them took her mind away from her troubles. Running her fingers gently over the waxy leaves of one bizarre plant that almost looked like a green mushroom, she asked absently,

"Where in the world do you come from?"

She moved on between the plants, inspecting them with a curious intensity, lingering at the jar containing the suspended eyeball. Smiling gently she asked,

"How are you today Viktor? Feeling better, after all of that, I hope?"

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Viktor's eye scrunched up, happy to hear the druid greet him. It nod, as if to say, Welllll.

Garrod chopped up the potatoes on a wide wooden board. knife work quick, confident, easy in its rhythmic knock. "Tatoes, ready," he called out.

"Good!" William called out, and had already put the duck onto a spit, the metal rod run through the fleshy beheaded carcass. "Garrod, could you open the grate?"

The hunter let the knife down from his hand, and moved to open the iron door. An iron rod with a hook at the end of it slipped onto a ring. He pulled it open and the little door creaked a sound. The crackle hiss and pop of the fire came clearer. Garrod felt the heat. Smelled the burn of the wood, smiled some at it.

"Excuse me," William said, skewered duck laid into a fat bellied tray. He clacked the ironware onto a hot grate, and with a harsh scrape of iron on iron, pushed the loaded tray in. "Perfect, you have my thanks," the apothecary let him know before he turned away and went back to his cooking area, started chopping up vegetables. "Just, watch the duck, should be done in about an hour and some after," he said.

Garrod nod. Not his first time cooking fowl.

"To answer your earlier question, Lady Elinyra, I well, I am from Elbion, to tell it true," he smiled wistfully. "My curiosities and interest in the use of well, death magic saw me driven out of the college, and the city came later," There was a sadness in his eyes, and clearly more to tell. "I won't trouble you with the details though," he said with worn smile.

It would be only some minutes more before William was done with his prep work. His hands rinsed in a basin. Garrod had found a corner to sit in, and was reading a book on the local flora.

William was perusing through his collection, stacking books in one arm, dutifully scanning the spines of the old dusty tomes before he would stop, pull the book open, thumb through the pages, and choose its destiny.

Back on the shelf, or part of the distinguished collection he gathered.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

To answer your earlier question, Lady Elinyra, I well, I am from Elbion, to tell it true,

"Elbion? Really? You are quite far from home then," Elinyra replied as she continued to peruse William's collection of plants. She decided not to pry into the subject of death magic. Apparently the renowned college of wizards felt the same way she did about it.

"And apparently you've collected quite a library in your time, too. How did you keep all of them in such a nice state in this moldy swamp?"

When lunch was finished cooking, she washed up and sat down at a table barely large enough for all three of them. The roasted duck smelled delicious, especially when compared to the mystery seafood stews that seemed to be the main fare around here.

"So how did you end up as the lighthouse keeper of Crossroads?" she asked William once they'd all gotten comfortable and were serving up the food.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

William beamed proudly at the druid's observations. "My, I, well," there was a hint of rosiness about his cheeks, and he averted his gaze from the druid. "Its been some time since any company I've had appreciated my collection," he smoothed down his coat, and pulled down its collar to leave it neat and sharp against his frame.

"Just a bit of simple rune work, really, Lady Elinyra, old college wizard tricks they taught us before we were sent off to field research and study," there was a wistfullness to his expression. He cleared his throat and nod his head.

"Elemental magick, with a bit of... well," he laughed small and to himself. "A discovery of my own really, a property of death, quite practical in not just this, but many an application," he said, and pointed out a series of rune letters, the like of which one might only fine in tomes of the occult. Things left for curses and hexes mostly. Only, altered in their expression. Strokes left missing, lines longer, while others were curved where normally they turned jagged. "Desication," he said matter of fact. "Along with the right sequence of water rune work, I can maintain a dry condition within the book case!" he did not hide his smile. "I can teach you, if you'd like?" he offered. "Its something that can be applied to even a satchel, or carrying case," he nodded. "Takes a bit of time to properly carve the runic sequence, however," he said.

The duck crackled and popped, and the fire hissed from the oven.

Garrod was only just starting to feel hungry again, when the duck came out from the oven. The skinny crispy and golden brown, fat juices run down its side and into the pan.

"I shall make, a gravy." William said proudly.

A happy gurgle came from Viktor's jar. Gravvbyyyyy. It seemed to say.

It would be only some minutes after that everything was ready and plated, the roasted root vegetables in a clay bowl, wide base bowls set for each of them, and a wooden spoon and a cutting knife along with it.

William smiled, and gingerly plated each of their servings in turn, sure to give Elinyra her helping first, then Garrod, and finally his own.

"How?" William asked.

Garrod ate quietly and listened.

"Well, I, had heard of the...accepting nature of the Crossroad," he laughed. "And, the knowledge that was oft traded here, and well," he looked down at his food, wistful. "When the last keeper died, I was here, trading my arts, tired of dealing with most of my clientel and so, well, I offered my services." he shrugged, and ate some of the duck. "No one objected, so it was mine! The machinery is rather simple really, as was the maintenance of the lamp," he said after chewing.

Garrod blinked, and looked to the shelf where Viktor's eye sat, suspended in the golden fluid. He stuffed a piece of potatoe coated with gravy and oils and bits of salt into his mouth. Chewed, and picked up a piece of duck next, crispy skin still on.

He never really expected to be eating duck with a necromancer.

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

"Actually, what I would really be interested in is your knowledge of herbalism," Elinyra replied to William, thinking it best to turn down his offer gently. "Your collection of plants is quite unique! Some of them I admit I don't recognize."

She nodded politely and listened to William's story as she ate the food on her plate. Usually she didn't care much for duck, but she remarked on how delectable this one was. Cooked perfectly. The vegetables, too, tasted like vegetables instead of mud; a marked improvement on the local cuisine.

"What of your plans, Garrod? Are you going to lay low in the swamp until the Sea Demon's repairs are done?" She wondered if she should tell him about the captain's recent state of affairs. Taking another bite of the tender dark meat, she decided she'd wait for his response first.

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Oh! Yes, of course! I, well," fool, some part of William's mind wormed. "Many of them are local carnivorous species which I have cultivated into more, well, effective contributors to the local web of life," he smiled meakly. Made sure to leave out the bit about death magic.

"Huh," Garrod said, staring at the strange scholar, who just went on to finish his last couple of bites. "I thought the little pitcher plant looked familiar," he added. "Weeping Bells are usually much larger though," his eye flit to the small bell shaped plant, fleshy and yellow as it hung from a bush like shrub. "Big enough to eat a grown man actually," he smirked, and cut into a hunk of duck.

William smiled. "Well, yes, normally, but, I figured if properly applied, it could be used to help dispose of well, unwanted waste, to put it politely,"

Garrod almost laughed at that. Elinyra's question caught his attention. "Oh," he said after consuming his food. His eye fell down to the relic he still wore upon his arm. The thing felt almost attached to him. Like a second skin. "I hadn't really thought that far," he said looked back to Elinyra.

William, sensing something, cleared his throat. "You are most welcome to stay here, Master Garrod," he said graciously, and stood up from his chair with a bit of scraps strewn about a pool of thick gravy. He moved to Viktor's jar, opened its lid, and shovled some of the bits and gravy in to the amnion fluid.

Viktor's eye squinted happily, and pulsed its way toward the slurry and chunks. A strangle little mout opened up in the eyes scilera, and it started gobbling up the bits, as if it were a fish.

Garrod just sory of stared at it for a minute. "Um, thanks William," he said flatly, wide eyed. "I appreciate that,"

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Elinyra ate quietly and listened with amusement to their banter about plants. Garrod apparently knew a bit more about flora than she expected, though she supposed it was mainly to do with the dangerous ones. He seemed to her the sort of man who valued practical knowledge over the scholarly; a striking contrast to the timid, studious necromancer now serving them lunch.

She still was of two minds about the whole idea of magically-altered plants, though she found some hope in the thought that at least a few humans were considering plants as allies rather than things to be crushed underfoot. For a race always in a rush to make the most of their lives, it was refreshing to meet one who took the time to observe the world. To change it in such a way though... she'd have to consider such a moral quandary. Either way, she hoped she'd get the chance to speak with William again in more detail on the topic.

I hadnt really thought that far,

The monster hunter's words rang through Elinyra's contemplation. Garrod glanced at the demonic thing on his arm, then up at her with an expression she read as some mixture of worry and reluctance. William's offer of a place for him to stay made Elinyra recall the recent traumatic memories that had led them here - a surreal strangeness made even stranger by the sight of the apothecary feeding the unnatural thing that was his friend.

"I also have a camp on the beach south of town. You're welcome to set up there or just come out for a walk if you need some fresh air," she added with a gentle smile. "Nobody has bothered me out there so far, though admittedly it wouldn't be the most comfortable place if it decided to rain. The weather has been kind so far."

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

William gave a friendly nod, not noticing the hunter's underlying discomfort.

Elinyra also offered Garrod a place of refuge. His eye rose to meet her gaze, saw the gentleness of her expression. Felt at ease.

She knows what you hold, Oh Bearer Mine. Belephus whispered in the darkness of his mind.

He blinked, and adjusted in his seat. "Suppose being outside wouldn't be so bad," he said with a shadowed smile. "After being well, locked up, the open air'll do me some good,"

"Well," William announced as he watched Viktor nibble at the globs of gravy. "If the weather turns, you are both most welcome to stay with us here," he said as he turned and looked to them.

Garrod's eye looked to the necromancer... William. "Right, I mean," he stopped and looked down at the food. "You've both been so kind," he sounded near crestfallen. His demon bearing hand clutched tight.

A farce. Falsehoods. They will collect what you have shown them, or try and purge me from you, at the first chance they get. The entity within the jewel came louder.

His eye was drawn to the jewel. Its milky opalescance, turned chatoyant. A green scar traced across its surface. A pupil, hungry for light.

"Excuse me," he said, and stood up from the table, turned, and with heavy bootfalls that knocked across the floor, left the room without another word. Some food still uneaten on his plate.

William blinked. "Was it something I said?" he asked as he looked to Elinyra for an answer.

Elinyra Derwinthir

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

The druid made a mental note of Garrod's apparent change in demeanor. Though she could surely not read his mind, his expressions were telling a story she thought she recognized.

"No, I don't think it was anything you said," she replied with her eyes locked on the closed door, as if expecting him to come back. She considered going after him for a moment more before glancing back at William with a deep sigh.

"It has been a harrowing journey, one that started not long ago. We weren't even supposed to port here but... you've probably heard about the state of the Sea Demon." She looked back down at her plate, trying not to remember the events of the recent past as she mentioned them. "There's much left for us to come to terms with. He just needs time. We all do."

If there was one thing that Elinyra understood right now, it was the solace of solitude beneath an open sky. Where you can forget your own name, as the old song went.

"Anyway, please tell me more about your... alteration of the plants. What's involved in that?"

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

William gave a slight nod. Glad for the comfort provided in her assurances. "I, well, yes," he nod, and smiled soft and sad. He craned his neck to better see Viktor. His only true companion, who glubbed up the bits of food that float about in his container, happy as a fish who could no remember the suffering of yesterday.

Tell me more about your... alteration of the plants. What's involved in that?

At that, William perked up some, his eyes squeezed with enthusiasm. "Yes, gladly!" he said and went over to the small weepingbell, scooped up its planter with care from the top of the bookcase, stretching onto his tipy toes to do so, and the fleshy, slug like plant seemed to slowly stretch and extend towards his hand. Its mouth latched onto the skin of his knuckles with a little kiss, and it steadily creeped around his bones, as it tried to envelop his hand.

William seemed not to notice, and walked the plant back, set it gently on the table, and worked his hand out of the plant's mouth. a Viscous green fluid trailed from where the bell had made contact.

"This one is harmless," he said, matter of fact. "Took me a while to yield such a result and well," he laughed nervously. "More than a few close calls, but, as you can see, its a carniverous plant! Aims to eat whatever comes near by, similar to a mollusk! Only, well, much slower," he nod. "I kept it from growing, but carving the proper rune-strings into its stem," he pointed at the thick vine, and the impossibly small script that scrawled its way up its length.

"It... was tedious work, and, well, more than a few poor bells paid the price for my success, but," he said with a small measure of comfort. "Well, their sacrifice lead me to this! A non-toxic, weeping bell, miniature! Not the catchiest name, but, that was was never my strong suit," he tittered nervously. "Suppose if I had titled my research papers something a little more, palatable, I may still be at Elbion!" He thought on it for a moment. Shook his head. "Instead I chose, On the Practical Applications of the Necrotic Energies: A treatises on Death Magic." he sighed, slouched some, and felt the little plant latch onto the side of his face. It sucked, and tried to spread over him. He blinked. Gently worked his finger under it and pulled it off.

"I do apologize," he noted as he wiped the goo off of his face. "I... well, I realize maybe all this talk of death magick may be... incensitive to the recent events," his eyes looked for an answer on the wood of the small table, and then found her, hopeful. "But! Maybe, well!" he almost got up out of his chair, thought better of it. "Forgive me, I... well, I just get excited is all,"

Viktor stared at them both.