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Ruskarl doesn't seem to know how to respond to her question, if he even understands what she is referring to. Unsure, he says nothing then pats her on the shoulder in a gesture he undoubtedly thinks is supposed to be comforting but just comes off as patronizing. He moves back to the others and crosses his arms as he listens to their exchange.
"Are we getting close?" she queries Ruskarl, suddenly eager to arrive. Ruskarl has been moving surprising quick for a man with a head wound severe enough to turn his jog into more of a confused gait, stumbling along with great urgency but little coordination, as if his legs weren't getting along and had different opinions on the proper way to walk. "Soon." He mumbled, his focus almost entirely bent toward the difficult twin tasks of staying conscious and stumbling along toward Bunny. It was dark and close under the forest's canopy of intertwined branches and thick leaves, and silence ruled, despite the fact that you occasionally spot birds in the trees and wild game like deer and rabbits foraging along the forest floor. It was a twilight realm and yet somehow wasn't oppressive in the least, rather calm and pleasant. The silence of the animals wasn't the silence of fear when a predator arrives but rather the silence of priests, bowing before their god in meditative silence. Some strange force permeated the forest, or perhaps WAS the forest, but it didn't seem sinister. Finally Ruskarl leads you to an old, run down log cabin squatting in the dim shade. Throwing open the rickety wooden door, he leads you inside. The interior of the cabin is a single large space. A old wood burning stove sheds dim light from the low fire in its open face. A pile of adventuring equipment sits in one corner and up against one wall is a bed of soiled sheets and dirty blankets where the woman lies. "Bunny!" Ruskarl croaks at the sight of her. Bunny is a middle aged woman with close cropped hair just beginning to go to grey. She has a massive build, her shoulders as wide as a mainline Knight's and her muscles as thickly corded as that of a peasant too poor to afford an oxen so he must pull his own plow. A massive Katana leans against the wall near the head of her bed, and when she's healthy, you get the impression she wields it with frightening power. Currently though, she appears near death, her body covered in hundreds of shallow, if wide, cuts. It appears Ruskarl dressed her wounds as best he could but she shivers with fever and appears barely lucid. "Save her!" Ruskarl cries.
"Thank you." Ruskarl says to her, seeming to lose a bit of his wild tension, still he doesn't leave until the humanoid bird, the one with the healing power, responds.
Ruskarl looks at the Vulture King sharply. "Will you come with me? We must leave immediately."
"I have a seriously injured companion waiting some ways from here, I need to find her medical help quickly. You seem to have some natural healing talent, do you have healing spells as well?" Ruskarl inquired, his tone rather desperate, as if his sense of control had gotten away from him completely.
"Bunny." Ruskarl says, his face absolutely crumbling. He glances off into the distance, looking so full of concern he might pass out. He didn't seem to hear your other question.
Either unaware or uncaring of the effect of his rude behavior Ruskarl climbs to his feet and has a moment of awkward unsteadiness, reminiscent of a new born foal first finding it's legs, before answering. "A pact? What?" He looked at Alyssa quizzically, his vision still blurry. He shook his head vigorously. "...As to why someone might want to hurt me it's kind of a list..." His eyes suddenly widened. He grabbed Alyssa by the shoulders, demanding; "How long was I out?!"
"Like hammered s+~*." Ruskarl said, sitting up. "I didn't fall, something hit me!" He said, looking around blearily. His eyes came back to rest on Alyssa. He smiled at her appreciatively. Not in any danger it seemed, he took a moment to orient himself. "What's happening here Angel face?" He asked Alyssa. |
