Nostrum: Tales of Valor

Unseen Quarters

Marne looks about the crowded room, awaiting anyone's response to his cries. Yet a silent place is all it turns out to be. Eyes gawk at the pair of them as Yuler lays against the floor and Marne cradles her from neath her shoulders. Then, one man from beyond Marne's line of sight makes his way towards the front. A coat longer than Marne's own brushes the splinter-riddled boards underfoot as the silhouette continues to approach before coming to a stop only a yard or so away. The man, whose battle-hardened eyes have set themselves on the arrow, kneels down alongside Yuler and swiftly tears the arrowhead from her flesh.

"Ah-Hak!" Cries Yuler, now feeling for the injury, eager to soothe the pain.

"Why in Numen's name would you do that!?" Marne nearly lets Yuler fall in anger before coming to his senses and covering the puncture wound, attempting to prevent further bleeding. As he does this, he looks back to the man who is now pulling back his coat. Marne's eyes widen as he sees the contents beneath it. A row of vials filled with red liquid slosh about. The man pulls one free from its brace and passes it off to Marne, who in turn gives the man an appreciative nod and swiftly pops the cork. "Thank you." He says, looking back to the man as Yuler chokes down the beverage.

The man gives a nod of his own, then offers a hand to Yuler.

"Come. On your feet."

As the bleeding stops, Marne watches the wound begin to heal over. The miraculous concoction does as it has always done in the past, and within minutes, the wound is completely gone. The pair rest at a table across from the man who guided them over. Too shaken to speak, Yuler remains quiet as the others exchange words.

"Thank you, again." Marne's rattled voice offers once more.

"Never mind thanking me." Speaks the stranger. "You're hardly out of harm's way."

Marne and Yuler give a brief glance in each other's direction as these words are spoken.

"What does that mean?" Marne looks about the establishment, where all others seem to have gone back to their usual habits in almost no time at all. Searching for even the smallest of threats.

"The Bethel is not so forgiving. You will surely be hunted until you are caught... or long gone."

"We can't leave." Yuler states whilst rubbing at her shoulder. Though the wound is but a memory, the pain still holds for some time. "We've got business here that we must tend to."

"As do we all." The man assures, lifting a wooden mug to his lips and sipping at a harsh liquid. "But that is no matter of yours."

"Well, we certainly appreciate your willingness to part with a vial," Marne begins, "but we must be going if we are to make up lost time."

As the pair begin to get up from their seats the man raises a hand to them and speaks once more.

"You're searching for your friends, are you not?"

Marne and Yuler pause in their motions, then slowly sink back into their chairs.

"How did you-"

"We're not far from where Master Parcely has settled his business. Many witnessed the goings-on."

"Wait," Marne furrows his brow as he replays the man's words in his head, "'Master' Parcely?"

The man nods and takes another sip from his mug.

"I'm sure that tells you enough about me and my roots."

"Not quite." Assures Marne, who now leans against the table. "Why is he called that?"