Private Tales Through the Mists

[Thren]

He shrugged. "I'm leaving anyway."

Taking the Amazon along with him wouldn't be too much of a problem. He'd seen a few sailing ships in the bay that could be operated with just a handful of people, and he assumed that they would be able to find those on the docks. Plus the smaller the vessel, the better their chance.

"I doubt she'll make it though." Thren was being candid again. "I'm no healer."

He glanced at Keyleth. "Neither is Larik. He's rather gentle, but never quite managed to grasp herbs."

The Barbarian chuckled to himself, apparently either unaware or not caring that now was not the time for a joke. Larik simply began wagging his tail, apparently simply happy to be part of the conversation.

Despite his joke however, his eyes locked on Keyleth, studying the odd lines etched on her skin.

 

[Keyleth]

"Elderoot should inhibit the spread of the poison... at least for a few days, until you can get to a proper healer." Beslin said, scooping an arm underneath Keyleth's knees as he gathered her fragile frame in his grasp. This time, she didn't even protest as someone else effortlessly picked her up.

There wasn't any point in wasting the energy.

The guard turned to look over his shoulder to the men behind him. "Hand your smoke pouches over to the big man in armor, lads."

He glanced to back to Thren, explaining. "The dried leaves will work in a pinch, but we should be able to find a few plants on the shoreline. The roots work best."

With a nod, he turned to lead Thren down a winding street.

 

[Thren]

Thren suddenly found himself being handed half a dozen pouches of herbs. He stared at each of the men in turn, grumbling something under his breath until the last of them handed over a small leather bag.

Beslin was already marching his way down the street, and Thren looked after him for a brief moment before he glanced down at Larik. A thought ran through his mind, and quickly he used a small length of his belt to tie the pouches together...and then around Larik's stomach. "There."

The Barbarian said as he quickly fell into step behind the soldier, jogging for just a few steps to catch up.

He kept himself on guard the entire rest of the way, though surprisingly they encountered little resistance as they neared the docks. A mixture of fear and common sense had seemingly kept most people off the street, and it seemed that the demons had been kept mostly to the inner-city.

Thren wasn't too surprised, it was what he would have done.

Eventually the docks came into sight, and with it came the sounds and smells of battle. Corpses lined the streets here, most of them armored. Thren frowned, drawing one of his daggers. "Small ship, no more than a dozen to crew."

That would work in case some of them died, plus easier to survive.

"That one." He pointed to a vessel moored off one of the docks, marked by some sort of flag the Barbarian didn't recognize. He didn't know much about sailing, almost nothing in fact, but it looked like a sturdy thing and that was what they needed.

 

[Keyleth]

There was already a small crew scurrying on the decks, frantically prepping the ship to sail. Most of the fighting was located by the larger ships, the naval vessels that were armed for combat.

Beslin hefted his charge a bit in his arms, grunting quietly under his breath. Perhaps he was more injured than he was letting on. It was good that it was not a Minaris flagged vessel. "Perfect. Let's go."

Keyleth opened her eyes briefly, though they were unfocused as she frantically looked around. "No.. wait... we can't."

A gloved hand pressed over her mouth to keep her quiet, Beslin shushing her. He nodded towards a long-leafed plant with little blue flowers that was growing along the rocks. "That's elderoot, by the way."

With Keyleth in his arms, he couldn't stoop down to gather any of the herbs, but a few of the other soldiers with them set about snatching up handfuls of the plant, yanking them up by the roots and stuffing them into the pockets that were tied to Larik.

Nearby, there was a horrific roar. A shrill scream was cut silent and then a severed arm toppled down from the higher streets. It landed with a dull splat in front of Thren's boots. Beslin looked back and caught sight of the demon scaling the wall over them with half of a man's body hanging from its massive maw. It hadn't seen the group yet.

"Get to the boat." Beslin whispered, handing Keyleth over to another soldier. He looked to Thren and nodded, then gestured for another guard to accompany the pair.

"We'll make sure nothing follows."

 

[Thren]

Thren looked at the corpse with a dull glare, his fingers tightening for a few seconds.

His first inclination was not to run away, to stand and fight, but he knew that was foolish. There was no such thing as Honor when it came to battle, a fact that he had first learned a long time ago. Dying for the sake of dying did no one any good, and...well he rather liked life.

"Good luck." The Barbarian said as he turned away from the other man and whistled for Larik to follow him.

Keyleth was already half-way down the peer, being held by one of her other men. Another soldier followed along behind him, though he wondered if he'd rather have stayed. His pace quickened, and within just a few steps he overtook Keyleth and the other man.

With a short few hops he made his way up the gangplank, one of the scurrying sailors approaching him.

"You can't ju-"
​

His dagger flicked from it's sheath in an instance. "We're taking this ship out to sea. Five minutes."

The sailor was about to speak again, and then his eyes caught sight of Keyleth herself. He frowned, and then slowly nodded his head.

 

[Keyleth]

Once the crew realized exactly who had just been brought on board their ship, they were quick to get the small vessel ready to set sail.

Keyleth was taken down into one of the officer's quarters and placed onto the hammock that swayed in rhythm with the rocking waves. The guard that had carried her turned to rush back up onto the main deck, seeking to aid the crew with the necessary preparations. Beslin had taken care to send two of his more skilled sailors along with Thren, just as a precaution.

The captain of the ship didn't need much encouragement and within minutes the little ship was underway.

"I hope you have a plan for dealing with the fog." The man grumbled from next to Thren, staring out at the miasma that lingered ahead.

 

[Thren]

"What do you mean?" Thren said as he turned to the man, frowning slightly. "We sail through it."

His expression told of the fact that he was entirely serious.

The Barbarian had made it through the fog once, he would be able to make it through again. If they didn't? Well where the hell else would they even go? There was no going into the city, there was no sailing up the shore, there was nothing else for them to do save for the fog.

"Don't worry lad." He looked down at the man with a smile.

"Death comes for us all eventually." A shrug rolled over his shoulders. "Embrace it."

 

[Keyleth]

"Sail through it? No one has been able to get through the fog." The man looked incredulous, folding his arms over his rotund belly that strained against his belt.

The soldier that had carried Keyleth onto the ship stepped over, resting his hand on top of the captain's shoulder. "We're going through, but you're more than welcome to stay in port." He said gruffly, nodding his head back towards the burning city behind them.

 

[Thren]

Thren glanced at the man with no small amount of confusion. "I've gone through, so has he."

The Barbarian pointed at his dog, Larik wagging his tail happily as he realized he was once again being included in the conversation. Thren smiled at him, and then grabbed the sailors shoulder. The soldier was right of course, it was the only way. The city behind them would offer no refuge.

"Take a breath lad." Thren said as he pushed him forward. "Tend the sail and brace yourself."

With a wave of his hand he motioned to the soldier. "The rest will be as it will."

It was all he could say, all that he could do as the ship pulled further and further out into the bay and headed towards the fog.

 

[Keyleth]

The first few hours underway were eerily peaceful and passed with little of note taking place. Once the small ship had sailed into the thick mists, the horrific sounds coming from the city had ceased. One of the guards that had been sent with Thren tended to Keyleth, crushing up the Elderoot that they'd collected and pressing the pulp into the wounds to slow the spread of the poison.

Silence fell over the water.

Just before sunrise, however, there was a stirring below deck.

One of the crewmen stumbled from his bunk, groaning as if he were drunk or seasick. He staggered into the room where the duchess lay resting, a hand swiping over his face and eyes.

Keyleth frowned and turned slightly in the hammock. "Something wrong, sailor?" She asked hoarsely.

The man jerked as if he'd been struck when Keyleth spoke. He frantically looked around the room, eyes wide with fear and confusion. "So much blood." He hissed, free hand reaching for the scimitar that was strapped at his side. The weapon was brought to bear on the duchess, quivering in the air. "You... feckin' monster! I'll kill you, naga bitch!"

Before Keyleth could properly respond, the delusional sailor lurched forward with the sword raised over his head, screaming hysterically. She was able to get her feet free from the hammock before the blade sliced through the fabric where she'd been laying. Weak as she was, however, the meant that she only ended up sprawled across the wooden floor.

She grunted in pain as she smacked her injured side against the hard wood. The sailor pivoted to face her while also trying to wrest his sword free from the tangled hammock.

 

[Thren]

Thren heard the scream, or rather, Larik did.

A loud Bark echoed from the Hounds throat, seeming to bounce through the wooden halls of the ship. The Barbarian's head practically lurched to the side, lips thinning, eyes narrowing as the dog bounced from his place and bounded down the hall within just a few heartbeats of the sound.

"Fuck." Thren cursed quietly as he pushed himself from the table and lurched from his seat.

The Hound was five steps ahead of him of course, though he nearly knocked aside three separate sailors who were simply trying to make their way back towards the deck.

"Watch i-"
​

Their protests were met with a hard stare from Thren, ice blue eyes instilling an instant fear of death as he drew the dagger and prepared.

Larik burst into the sleeping room, the clack of his nails sounding on the wood as he pounced upon the attacking sailor.

 

[Keyleth]

Keyleth braced an arm under her torso, pushing herself into a partially seated position. It was all she could do to just stay out of the fight as the hound tackled the sailor just as the sword was pulled free.

The sailor staggered backwards, tripping over the duchess' legs and toppling to the floor on top of her. Hound, man, and woman grappled to free themselves from the tangled pile of limbs. Keyleth could hear Larik's teeth snapping in the air and a low, bone-chilling snarl filled the room.

"Demon!" The man shrieked, pushing a hand into Larik's throat to keep the hound from tearing his own open. The saber clattered to the ground momentarily.

Afraid that the hound might accidentally go after her, Keyleth tried to make herself as small a target as possible. Her arms curled defensively over her face and head as the sailor snatched his dropped scimitar up from the floor. The sharp blade sliced into the fabric of her trousers, biting into the soft flesh that was hidden away underneath.

Without a horrendous bellow, the man kicked the war dog off of him. The adrenaline and fear giving him strength. He rounded on the weakened shieldmaiden and grabbed her by the throat, sword raised above his head a second time. "Foul demoness!"

 

[Thren]

Half a second passed, and then a black dagger erupted from the sailors throat.

A hand was placed on his shoulder a second later, and then there was a loud wrench as Thren pulled the man back towards him and let his corpse ragdoll down onto the floor.

"Sailors." Thren said with a chuckle. "Animals."

Larik coughed loudly, and typical of the Barbarian he quickly crouched down by the warhound and checked him over. After a few seconds he patted the dogs head, smiling and then turning his attention towards the Amazon.

"You alright?" He asked, sheathing his dagger on his back.

 

[Keyleth]

She rubbed at her throat, grimacing slightly before finally speaking.

"Thank you." Was all she managed at first.

There was blood on her face. The wound in the sailor's throat having dripped down onto her pale skin. It took her a moment to realize that the sailor's weapon had cut her leg.

She took a deep breath, pushing herself back up so that she was seated on the floor. Being so vulnerable was not something Keyleth was accustomed to. She'd never been one to let others defend her, and yet this poison left her utterly defenseless. It terrified her.

The question that Thren posed her seemed rather ridiculous. Of course she wasn't alright. She'd lost her home, her men, her city, and her strength all in one night. Part of her wished that the sailor's aim had been truer.

"Just nicked my leg." She answered after a pause.

 

[Thren]

"You're going to move to the Captain's cabin." The Barbarian stated plainly, his face as impassive as could be.

He had made no particularly oath to her, nor had she really paid him...well save for passage on a ship, but that didn't mean he wanted to see her dead. In fact, he was pretty sure she was the only reason that his presence on this ship was even still being tolerated.

The men aboard this ship far outnumbered him, and if they really wanted to they could overwhelm him. Of course he doubted that most of them realized that...yet. "Larik will guard the door."

Again, his words left little room for argument.

Though he had no duty to protect her, the Barbarian did not want to see her come to harm. No code of honor bound the Siruk, but...well, she had been kind to him.

It was reason enough.

 

[Keyleth]

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then gave a single nod of her head as she steeled herself. As much as she hated to admit the fact, she didn't think she'd be able to stand in her current state.

"Not sure I can make it that far, Mainlander." She said flatly, her tone matter of fact. There wasn't much point to trying to bluster her way through the situation. The barbarian had proven himself to be more than capable... and oddly loyal. She was worried that putting too much trust in the man would turn around and bite her in the future.

Above decks, there was another shout. The words were indistinguishable, but the tone was evident -- another fight had broken out.

 

[Thren]

He frowned for a moment, shaking his head.

Briefly the Barbarian thought that he should have just taken a different ship, then these troubles would not have fallen on him. His lips thinned briefly, but he simply reached over and let his arms slip around the woman. Rough an calloused hands grasped her, pulling her up.

He cradled her, as a Prince might his new wife. "Clear the way, Larik."

Thren heard the fighting, the sounds of shouting, but he knew that for now at least intervening was not his objective. The hound barked happily, then bounced forward out the door.

"Don't wiggle too much." He told her plainly. "Elsewise i'll get the ropes."

Not giving her an initial moment to speak Thren stepped out of the room and headed after Larik, moving quickly towards the stairs which would take him to the upper deck of the ship and towards the captains cabin.

 

[Keyleth]

As the barbarian gathered her up in his powerful arms, Keyleth took a sharp breath through her nose. She still wasn't sure how to feel about being carried around in such a fashion -- torn between grateful for the help, and mortified that she needed it in the first place.

Even if she had wanted to struggle against Thren's grasp on her, she didn't have the strength to fight him off. She curled up in his arms, nestled against his chest as he cradled her. With her forehead gently resting against his throat, the barbarian would easily be able to feel the duchess' fever running rampant.

Crouched down in front of the cabin's quarters was one of the sailors. There was scarlet blood scattered across the floor and walls. He was muttering to himself, leaning over a crumpled lump of a man in the corner.

As the grew closer, it became apparent that the sailor was slowly pressing a blade into a fresh corpse's abdomen and pulling it back out.

He giggled, as if something was funny and then his head snapped around to look back at the newcomers as they approached.

"What... the fuck..." Breathed Keyleth, tensing up in Thren's arms.

 

[Thren]

Thren stared at the man, blinking slowly and clearly unimpressed by the sight. The Barbarian had seen this before, at least echoes of it when he'd first passed through the mist. He frowned for a brief second, and then took a step forward.

The motion was mimicked by the sailor.

A glint flashed off of the man's sword, the moonlight reflecting from the silvery blade and onto the Barbarian. A twisted smile showed on the sailors face, and quietly he began to cackle to himself as he walked towards them. Thren simply continued to walk forward.

There was no concern of his face, no sign of worry. His grip didn't even tighten on Keyleth.

"TIME TO DIEEEEEE!"
​

The sailor let out a screech, suddenly rushing forward and reeling back to slash forward with the sword. "Larik."

A single bark echoed, and then suddenly the Sailor found himself barreling over as the War Hound jumped on him from the side. Teeth sunk into flesh, vice like jaws clamping down on the lost man's throat.

 

[Keyleth]

The duchess felt her breath catch in her throat as the sailor rushed towards them, but she didn't cry out or flinch. If the barbarian wasn't reacting to the madman's rush, there must have been a reason for it.

A moment later and the massive war hound tackled the would-be-assailant to the floor and tore at his throat with his teeth. The sailor's windpipe was crushed with the bite and the only sound he could make as the hound killed him was a rattling, wet gasp. His death with punctuated by the metallic clatter of his sword falling to the wooden floor. Fresh blood pooled, trickling along the floor boards as it chased after the tilt of the small vessel being rocked by the ocean's waves.

Inside the captain's quarters, it was dark and utterly still. No delirious sailor's came charging at them.

"Are you going back out there?" She asked softly as he carried her inside. Not out of fear of being left alone, but for concern of the barbarian falling prey to whatever insanity had seized hold of the crew.

 

[Thren]

"Fuck no." Thren said as Larik trotted through the door and he kicked it shut.

The latch fell across it almost automatically, a feature that he suspected the Captain had added himself. He frowned for a second, wondering where the man had gone, but decided not to voice his thoughts to her.

Instead he wandered over towards the bed. "They'll be killing each other for a few hours."

It had happened last time as well.

"No reason to go out there." Not until the dust settled. "I just hope enough are left that they can run the ship."

He frowned at that, acknowledging that he had absolutely no idea how to sail the ship. At the same time he put Keyleth upon the feathered bed, Larik sitting himself down besides the door.

 

[Keyleth]

Once she was situated onto the mattress, Keyleth leaned her back against the wall behind her and exhaled slowly. One of her hands wrapped around her abdomen and pressed against the wound on her side. The faint touch was enough to cause her to wince, but she stayed silent for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the crew butchering one another.

She turned her gaze towards the glass window that looked out behind the ship, though she could only see the dense fog swirling around in the darkness, illuminated by the lamps up on the main deck. Occasionally a shadow would pass in front of the light, and it appeared as though a massive beast lurked in the miasma.

Had Leonell known what he was unleashing when he erected this spell, she wondered.

Perhaps he had.

"Is this what caused your ship to crash?" She asked, not turning her gaze away from the window.

 

[Thren]

"Something similar." Thren admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. "Though the effects had been...more immediate."

Nearly everyone had either gone mad or abandoned the ship as soon as they had left the fog. The Captain himself had taken those that remained standing and simply left on one of the long boats.

In truth though, Thren assumed they died soon after. "Whatever magic that fog is..."

He trailed off for a second, listening as he heard a thump onto the deck beyond the door.

"It rings of those demons." Wendigo she had called them.

 

[Keyleth]

"That's because it's from the same school of magic, Mainlander." She muttered, shaking her head as she looked away from the fog and turned her gaze to the barbarian.

In Minaris, magic was powerful, but it was also quite rare. It did not manifest often and when it did, there was a heavy price to be paid. While her husband had prescribed to the darker magics of the Spell Weavers, she herself held the knowledge of her ancestors that had been passed down through the generations. Leonell had told her some of the workings of his order, the man quite boastful of his lineage.

She understood that it was dark magic being put to a good purpose... but she had never known just how vile it truly was.

There was a solid thump on the door. "Caaaaaptain." Someone cooed from the other side, laughing under their breath.

 

[Thren]

He shrugged. "I figured."

There was no way for Thren to confirm it of course, but he had suspected it from the first time he'd seen that demon. Minaris, as it turned out, was an odd city.

Dark Magic was common enough in Arethil, but it was usually of a different sort. He suspected that whoever had created the fog had paid a dear price for it. A part of him wanted to ask Keyleth, but it was a subject that she clearly did not wish to speak about. Something he could tell from her eyes alone.

When a voice rang out from beyond the door Thren turned his head.

Eyes rolled as he heard the laughter. "Ignore it."

Larik flattened his ears.

"He'll get bored." Thren wasn't going to deal with more crazy people, it felt as though that was all he'd been doing the last few days.