Searching for Dethwort. Prelude to Nightbreath's potion for DoraRose.
(Nightbreath's Home)
Nightbreath is packing his things and he coils his blade-rope and tucks it away in his robe. He dons his cloak from the peg on the wall by the door and finishes securing a haversack's opening so it won't spill out on him. He sends a mental flash to Ragg, summoning him.
After a few minutes, Ragg appears in the doorway, his cloak rather askew and breathing heavily. He looks up at his mentor, saying breathlessly, "You called?" He glances around and notes the haversack. He frowns, asking, "Where're you headed?"
"To retrieve a vital herb known as dethwort from somewhat distant lands," Nightbreath informs him. "The warriormaid DoraRose has been injured and possibly suffered brain damage, impairing her memories. I have brewed potions to restore memory before, but my supply of deathwort has run low. We are going to obtain some...that is, if you wish to accompany?" he adds.
Ragg listens intently, his brow creasing in concern, "Yes, of course! I'm not one to pass up adventure. Lemme just grab Protector." He runs back to his room and soon returns with his sword buckled to his belt. He grins and nods at Nighbreath, "Ready when you are!"
"Very well. Let us depart." Nightbreath nods as well as they do just that.
(The source of the River Moss)
It's been several days of long, hard travel, and even Nightbreath flags slightly as the prophetic duo work their way into the clearing. "Dethwort grows best in moist, humid areas," the older Seer says, closing his eyes for a moment. "We should check around the spring."
Ragg has developed a limp from the traveling, but it doesn't seem to pain him that much. He nods to the instructions and starts to look around, asking as he does, "What exactly does deathwort look like?"
"Small, scraggly leaves, triangular, a moldy shade of dark green. A raw, spicy scent," Nightbreath says before he opens his eyes and begins searching carefully with all senses.
Ragg starts looking, checking amid the mists of the little spring. He plucks a small plant that vaguely fits the description Nightbreath gave him. He sniffs it and shivers at its bitterness then chucks it over his shoulder, doubting its value.
"That was Merchant's Mist," Nightbreath says helpfully. "Dethwort has small buds, black flowers specifically. This time of year they are pods. Check the center of the leaves."
Ragg nods and continues to look, being more careful. He's silent for the most part and intent on his task. After a moment more he plucks another plant and offers it to Nightbreath, "Is this it?"
His mentor examines the plant carefully, sniffing it and rubbing the leaves gently before nodding. "Indeed it is." His face lights up. "Well done, Ragg!" Suddenly there's a rustle in the bushes.
The tight lipped scowl that had been decorating Ragg's face brightens into a grin, "Thanks! Now all-" He stops speaking as the bushes rustle and whirls to face them, his body tensing in preparation for the next move.
Nightbreath's sword is out in a flash and he shoves Ragg to the ground as crude arrows begine to fly through the air. "Painted ones," the ermine growls. "I should've known such an important site would be protected."
- Ones
Ragg scrambles up from his place on the ground, nodding to Nightbreath as he does, "Thanks. Should we run? They have the advantage with their bows." He draws his sword as he speaks.
"A Seer never runs if he is about to win," Nightbreath says mysteriously. "And they are a threat to travelers in this region. I think we should neutralize them," he says casually.
Ragg raises an eyebrow at his mentors cool attitude, "But-" He decides against arguing and instead poses a question, "And how exactly do you plan on doing this?!" His voice is reaching a higher pitch.
"I've dealt with these before," Nightbreath says calmly as he scans the treeline, his blade-rope out and beginning to whirl over his head until it whistles.
An arrow wizzes past Ragg's head and he dashes for a nearby boulder, yelling over his shoulder in a voice that's a little to cheerful, "Great! I'll let you deal with that and I'll stay overhere."
"Stand and be true, Ragg," Nightbreath shouts. "Protect my back." He advances slowly to the edge of the clearing, stepping carefully over stones and heedless of the arrows flying at him.
Ragg lets out a sigh and runs over to his mentors unprotected back. He takes up a ready position and prepares to fight off the would be attackers, a few of which was starting to advance out of the bushes.
A Painted One with a flint axe flies at Ragg, who is twice the beast's height; Nightbreath meanwhile continues to prowl forward, his blade-rope flickering in intricate patterns.
Ragg blocks as the painted one swings at him, then swiftly thrusts forward, killing the beast. He glances over his shoulder at Nightbreath, saying, "How're you doing up there?"
"Fairly well," Nightbreath says...just before an arrow takes him in the shoulder and knocks him back into the spring in a whirl of robes and cloak.
Ragg swears under his breath as Nightbreath go flying past him and he starts to rush after his mentor. The painted ones, however, take advantage of his distraction and two come rushing out of the bushes. Ragg dispatches one, but the second one is quick and cuts into the weasels pants, leaving a nice cut on his leg. After a moment of grappling Ragg takes care of the second one and continues over to Nightbreath, asking breathlessly, "Are you alright? Other than the arrow sticking out of your shoulder, of course."
There is no response from Nightbreath, who lies submerged in the waters of the spring.
Ragg's quite worried at this point. He reaches down with one paw and grabs the collar of Nightbreath's robe, dragging his mentor's head above the water. He starts to drag the ermine to the edge of the spring as three more painted ones burst from the bushes.
Ragg's quite worried at this point. He reaches down with one paw and grabs the collar of Nightbreath's robe, dragging his mentor's head above the water. He starts to drag the ermine to the edge of the spring, but doesn't get very far as three more painted one's burst from the bushes. He has to let go of Nightbreath, causing the ermine to submerge again.
The Painted Ones go silent as the Seer falls, but as they begin to screech their victory, a primal yell cuts through. Nightbreath rises like a phoenix, dripping wet and with weeds hanging from him, the arrow still in him. He snaps once, twice, thrice with his blade-rope, sweeping through rows of Painted Ones but never actually killing, only disabling.
Ragg stands back and lets the ermine work, muttering wryly, "Great, you're alive."
Suddenly a howl of dismay goes through the ranks and they begin to flee. Apparently Nightbreath capped their leader, whose head thunks against a tree just now, several feet from his body. "VAELNOR ROTH ISEN! THE SEERS DO NOT DIE!" Nightbreath shouts, an ominous figure standing in the clearing.
Ragg grins, "Well, I'd say that was quite successful." He examines his mentors shoulder, "But we'd better stay here for a little while. That's only going to get worse."
The arrow drops from where it was lodged in the folds of Nightbreath's robe. It whiffed him without cutting flesh at all. It was only the force that sent him back into the spring. Nightbreath grins. "Or not."
They head back to Ferravale.
Groups:
