forum Help me out- Running an experiment

Started November 22, 2023 by @EldritchHorror-Davadio health_and_safety emoji_events

tune

Franklyn kept working, gently coaxing the girl to swallow the athelas extract. It was slow going, but he’d cultivated patience a long time ago. Arcturus was handling Lucky, so he was free to focus on his patient.
The last measure of tincture worked its way down her throat, and there was a change in her breathing. Franklyn kept helping her swallow, just to make sure all of the medicine got taken. He was checking her breathing patterns when her eyes fluttered open. She started, a slight jerk back that signaled he’d surprised her. He smiled at her, noting her eyes seemed clear, If tired.
They were also purple. I’ve never seen purple eyes before…
“Hey, easy there, it’s ok. You’re among friends.”
Her eyes widened as she turned her head to look around, and she froze when she saw Lucky and Arcturus over by the fire, watching her.
Valiel’s tired mind spun for a moment, taking in the fact that she was surrounded by men. Kind-looking men, but looks could be deceiving. Two humans and an Elf, it looked like. She started to try to move, and realized 2 things.
One, her arms and legs were still leaden and unresponsive.
Two, she wasn’t wearing her clothes under the blanket.
The second realization in particular made her heart sink, and old fears reared their heads. “Who are you?” She turned to stare at the one who had spoken to her. He’d sat back so he wasn’t right in her face anymore, which was nice, but… all it took was for one of them to grab the blanket, and she’d be exposed, helpless… Memories of similar situations swirled through her head, and she shut her eyes tight, trying to push them back.
“My name is Franklyn Berg. I’m a doctor, and you were brought to me for medical care.” Franklyn spoke softly, slowly, so she’d be able to understand him despite the sickness still working its way out of her body. Her words had a fairly thick accent to them, so Westron clearly wasn’t her usual choice of language. He could tell something was upsetting her, so he thought quickly. “You had collapsed out in the fields outside of our town, and some of my friends brought you to me. You’re quite sick, though I’m sure you knew that.” He stood up and walked over to where her clothes were drying on a small rack near the fireplace. “We have your things, or at least what we found you with. Everything is safe, you’re safe here, and we’re going to help you.”
Valiel swallowed hard, trying to quell the rising panic in her chest. She opened her eyes as the doctor explained himself. She could turn her head, which was good, and looking around answered the question of where her clothes were. They hadn’t hidden them, or destroyed them, or anything like that. Wouldn’t be the first time…
“And who are they?” She glanced at the human and Elf by the fire. Franklyn looked at them, and the human smiled kindly.
“My name is Lucky, ma’am. I’m an Imperial Courier, and Doc needed my help getting you some medicine.” He tipped his head towards the fire. “I was just warming up; I can leave if you’d like me to.”
The Elf gave a slight bow, and when he spoke, Valiel noted the slight lilt that all native Elvish speakers had on their Westron. “My name is Arcturus Thenuviel, milady. I was just here to escape the storm.”
Valiel frowned just a second, before looking for a window. She found one, and a single glance out revealed nothing but blowing snow in the dark of evening. She was still looking at the window when a large shadow passed it, and then there was a loud noise as someone came through the outside door. There was a heavy curtain between the exam room and the entrance way, and Valiel couldn’t see him, but she could hear the solidity and heaviness in his steps, as he stomped snow off his boots.
Franklyn saw the girl’s eyes widen as she turned to look at the curtain. She seemed to be very frightened, and it didn’t get better when the massive form of Romulus pushed through the curtain.
“How’s she doi-… Oh, hello.” Romulus started to ask how she was, when he stepped through and caught sight of her, staring at him with abject fear writing itself across her face.
For Valiel, the appearance of a massive man, much stronger and more powerful than her, while she was vulnerable, triggered several uncomfortable memories and feelings. She tried to scramble away from him, but her body wouldn’t respond. She was warm, she could feel that, but it was like her limbs were still cold and numb.
Lucky saw that reaction and immediately stood. He was a bit wobbly on his legs, but he stepped around the table and reached up to pat Romulus’s shoulder. “Hey, can you help me get down to the livery? I don’t think I’ll make it alone.”
Romulus nodded quickly, looking at the cowering girl in concern. “Yeah, of course.” He glanced at Doc, who nodded quickly, and then turned to help Lucky down the street.
Arcturus watched them go, glad that Lucky had made a quick move. Romulus inspired fear in a lot of people. He watched as the girl relaxed a little as the big blonde left the office.
“You’re safe friend. That’s our Captain. He looks scary but he won’t hurt you.” Arcturus spoke quietly, gently. Meanwhile, Franklyn had hurried to the side room, and was back with another small bottle, as well as a steaming cup of tea. This time, he tipped a tablet out of the bottle.
“Here. Take this, it’ll help you move a bit sooner.” He offered her the little white tablet. “Lissuin powder. The tea is mint. A bit boring, but warm.” He smiled, an open, honest smile, as far as Valiel could tell, but…
“Why should I trust you?” She glanced at the curtain, making sure the big one was gone, and then looked at the Elf. No one was moving to make her take the pill.
Franklyn thought for a moment, before shrugging a bit. “There’s lots of reasons I could give you, but… at the end of it all, it comes down to what you can tell about us. We haven’t harmed you; you’re in out of the storm; you’re healthier than when you came in here; and we’re not out to harm you, or we’d have done it while you were unconscious.” He held the tablet closer. “But I know none of that makes a difference until we’ve proved ourselves. So take a chance; take the pill, and wait till it does what I say it will.”
Valiel watched him. There was no pretense behind his words, no threat. Just logic, and a clear empathy. He was right; she wouldn’t trust them even with all of that.
Only one way to know… Antherias, help me…
She nodded slowly, looking at the tablet. Franklyn leaned forward and dropped it into her mouth, before slowly pouring just a little bit of warm tea down her throat to wash it down.
There was a quiet moment, and then, almost immediately, Valiel felt a weight drop off her limbs. She lifted a shaking hand out from under the blanket to look at it, before looking up at the doctor. “Thank you.”

….……
You help me decide what happens next.
In a whisper, give me your vote for one of the following options:

1. Far and Away
2. Till the Storm Passes By

Fyurnik’s boots crunching in the snow was a sound he was getting used to hearing. This blasted frigid north climate was not to his liking, not at all. But Chief said they had to make do for the time being, so that’s what he was going to do.
He scurried up to the large tent, where Burbulg and Clundor were standing guard. The two muscley hammer-head goblins frowned down at him, their breath steaming in the cold. “Whadya want, runt?”
Fyurnik looked past the flap of the tent for just a second, his large cap fluttering in the wind. “Chief sent for me, fellas. Lemme pass.” Clundor growled deep in his chest, but stepped aside and opened the flap to let the diminutive gnome pass by.
Fyurnik scuttled inside the dark tent, where it was much warmer. He hurried over to an iron coal cage, where a heap of coals was smoldering, providing the heat and the small amount of light in the tent. “You sent for me, Chief?”
Across the tent, sitting on a heap of furs and pelts, was a dark figure. Long legged, tall, with black skin and ivory white hair, the Dark Elf was always a bit intimidating to Fyurnik. “I did, my little friend. Had a question for you.” Chief’s voice, sibilant, almost a whisper, was unsettling. Fyurnik gulped, before turning to face the Dark Elf.
“What, uh… what can I do for you?”
Chief leaned forward. “You know the mark you put on that Skin-changer girl? The one that would supposedly burn out when she did?”
Fyurnik nodded quickly. “”Yes, sir. It should have gone out by now, especially in this storm. I’m sure she didn’t survi-“ He was cut short as Chief held up a small wood talisman, which was glowing brightly, a nice healthy orange. “Wha- Chief, I-… I swear, I did the mark right, it’s-“ He didn’t want to suggest that the girl had somehow survived the curse the Chief had put on her, but… his mark wasn’t the problem.
The tall Dark Elf stood, and in one step, was across the tent and towering over the gnome. He leaned down, getting dangerously close, close enough for Fyurnik to see his glimmering fangs. “You’re sure you did the mark right, Fyurnik? Positively certain?” His voice was so low, a whisper that made Fyurnik shiver at the intimacy of it and at the intimidation of it. The gnome composed himself, and frantically nodded yes.
There was a long pause, before Chief stood up. “Well. Then somehow, some way, that little wretch has survived the Bleeding Curse. Interesting.” He spun on his heel and stepped back over to his pile of furs and pelts. A smooth motion had him seated and contemplating Fyurnik again, who hadn’t moved. “Go send Kaelith to me, and then get those who will listen to you ready to move. Tell them we’re going hunting.”
Fyurnik nodded again, snapped a half-salute, and fled the tent, spreading Chief’s orders. The Dark Elf sat in his dark tent, regarding the little talisman, which was still glowing brightly. His sibilant voice wouldn’t be heard outside, especially as it matched the whistling and hissing of the wind.
“Either you got some help, little girl, or there’s more to you than meets the eye. We shall soon see, won’t we…”

….……
You help me decide what happens next.
In a whisper, give me your vote for one of the following options:

1. Cache
2. Fugue

“What’s your name?” Arcturus asked from his spot by the fire. The girl had started to sit up, and Franklyn was hurriedly snagging pillows and more blankets for her, so she could sit comfortably.
“My name is Valiel.” she responded, glancing at the Elf, before sipping more tea. Franklyn got back just then and tucked pillows in around her, as well as laying another blanket over top of her. She felt a little better the more insulated she was against prying eyes.
“Where are you from, Valiel?” Arcturus had not heard the thick accent on her Westron before. He’d done quite a lot of travelling and had no idea where that was from. “What brings you so close to Archetoth?”
She opened her mouth to answer, and… nothing came out. As she thought about it, Valiel realized she wasn’t even really sure she had the answers to those questions. It felt like her mind was pulling at pieces of dreams for information, but… she couldn’t get the clear answers she needed in that moment. “I-… I don’t know.”
Franklyn’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know where you’re from? Or you don’t want to tell us?”
Valiel shook her head. “No, I-… I really can’t remember. I know my name and… that’s about it.”
Franklyn stepped over to where her clothes were mostly dry by now. He held up the garments, noting the a few of them had the threadbare look of clothes worn a long time. “Do these jog any memories for you? Any recollection of where you got them?”
Valiel shook her head. “No, not really. I just know they’re mine.” She looked down at her mug of tea and sipped it, thinking hard.
“Are you human?” Arcturus asked. It wasn’t a rude question, just one you could never take for granted.
Valiel’s eyes lit up as she remembered a piece of information about herself. “No! No, I’m a Skin-changer.” She lifted her hand and tried to shift the form, but found she didn’t have enough energy to do more than grow fur on it. “I Skin-change by the grace of Antherias. He guided me to you, I think. I remember asking him for help in the cold.”
Arcturus nodded, watching as the facts seemed to tumble from her mind all in a rush. “And does that help you remember where you’re from?”
The memories stopped cold, as if locked behind a wall, and Valiel shook her head, his face returning to its pensive expression. “No… I’m sorry. I wish I knew where to tell you.”
Franklyn was staring at the ground, and when Arcturus glanced at him, the Elf could tell he was thinking very fast. “Antherias is worshipped by shifters of all kinds, but I believe he originates from the south of us. Which would also explain Westron not being your native language.” The doctor looked up. “Any of that sound right?”
Valiel looked at him, contemplation in her eyes. “…Maybe? I’m not sure.”
“Say, down around Khand?” Franklyn took his best educated guess, and was gratified when Valiel nodded quickly.
“I know that name! I know that place. It must be near there.”
Arcturus nodded slowly. “See, you’re getting somewhere already. Doc Berg will help you figure this out.” For his part, Arcturus was doing his best to think of all the people groups he knew. He’d never met Khandians with pale skin, auburn hair and purple eyes, who could shapeshift, so she must be from close to there. Still, that only narrowed it down a bit.
Valiel gave a slight smile at his words, before looking back at Franklyn. “Hey, uh… if my clothes are dry, could I…?”
Franklyn nodded quickly, before turning and pulling the curtains closed over the window. “Of course. Arcturus and I will step out.” He headed towards the entry way, where he plopped down, thinking, and the Elf followed him, leaving Valiel her privacy.

….……
You help me decide what happens next.
In a whisper, give me your vote for one of the following options:

1. Documents
2. Character Reveal

“Had she said anything before we left?” Romulus asked quietly, continuing the conversation he and Lucky had been having on their walk through the wind.
“A little. She asked a question. Strong accent that I didn’t recognize.” Lucky said, speaking around a mouthful of food. “Definitely not from here though.”
Romulus nodded, chewing, before glancing thoughtfully at Lucky. “So definitely not Forathaonite, then.”
Lucky shook his head. “No. Not Forathaonite. Wouldn’t that be something though.” He gave a slight chuckle. “I’ve yet to find another in this part of the country. I reckon most of them either moved to the capitol, or went over to Rhun or Harad. Both of those places offered asylum for-… well, you know.” He gave Romulus a wry smile. The big Captain was distantly related to the Harad Royal family, so he kept up on the news and history.
Romulus reached over and patted his shoulder. “Well, hey. I’m glad you wound up here, buddy.” He set his knife and fork on the plate and stood up. “I need to keep making my rounds, I’ve waited long enough as it is.” He picked up the dish. “Can I wash the dishes for you, or-“
“Just leave it there, I’ll get it.” Lucky smiled at him. “Thanks for checking up on everyone. You know I appreciate it, even if you are a big scary slab of beef.”
Romulus shrugged. “I don’t try to be.” He turned and headed out the door of the small loft apartment, descending the stairs into the livery barn, and then braving the snowstorm again. “I’ll be back around in a bit!”
Lucky waved down the stairs to him, before gathering up the dishes and making his way to the sink. He pumped the water up, washed the couple of things they’d used, and plopped down in his seat by the small wood-burning stove.
His mind raced the entire time.
It would have been something if she were from Forathaon. Lucky hadn’t heard Rathaonish spoken since he was a teen, and he missed the sound of his own language. Forathaon had been conquered by an invading force before Lucky was born. He’d only ever known Dagan the Iron Hammer as a ruler, and the powerful Dwarf had not been kind to native Forathaonites. Conditions had worsened Lucky’s entire life, till he was 12. That was the year rebellion broke out, not just in small pockets before, but in an organized uprising, with militia and everything. Lucky’s father had gone off to join the fight, trying to secure a better future for his wife and children. Lucky had hired himself out as a farmhand, in order to keep food on the table for his sister and mother. One day, when he was 14, one of the farmers Lucky worked for had offered him a foal as payment. Lucky had gone to look at the little horse and fell in love immediately. The horse seemed well mannered and easy to train, so he’d named him Sinjoro, or ‘gentleman’. And that horse, over the next two years, had become his dearest friend.
And then, when the Iron Hammer had finally smashed the rebellion, leaving Lucky’s father dead and the country in ruins, Sinjoro had saved Lucky’s life. Anyone related to the rebellion had been forced to flee, and the neighboring countries of Rhun and Harad had offered asylum to Forathaonite refugees.
Lucky had taken his mother and sister and had run, Sinjoro allowing them to move quickly. However, the public declarations from the monarchs of Rhun and Harad had angered Dagan the King, and he had decided to cut off the fleeing refugees at the borders.
Lucky didn’t know what he was leading his family into. It wasn’t until the fighting began that he realized what was happening, and by the time he got his wits about him… his family was dead, along with many others.
SInjoro pulled him from the fight, Lucky’s arm tangled in the straps of his saddle and reins. Without the horse, the Forathaonite teen wouldn’t have survived.
He climbed into the saddle and rode for a week solid, eventually ending up in Rhovanion. He was 16, and alone.
Joining the Imperial Courier Service had granted him purpose, as well as a way to pay the bills. He had yet to meet another Forathaonite, even in all that travel across the Empire.
The girl might be in the same boat, he thought to himself. Far from home, hurting, and alone.
Well. Not totally alone, if I can help it…

….……
You help me decide what happens next.
In a whisper, give me your vote for one of the following options:

1. That Night
2. The Next Morning