Demon(#Wattys2017 Entry)

Chapter 20:Scars

A month had passed since the job in Vrai. Everyone, thankfully, had recovered well from their wounds, and things had more or less returned to normal. No major jobs were offered, though a few requests for specific members were made, jobs that employers had decided did not need the whole of Black Griffin to aid in.

Vaussten was asked to act as 'Security' for a wedding celebration(though the one who had hired him had been a young nobles daughter with a...promiscuous reputation.) He had come back with gold and a surprisingly cheery disposition. On a possibly related note, the bride of the wedding in question was later divorced by the groom later that week for unknown reasons.

Giles and Reba had gone off on odd jobs defeating bandits, earning a good sum of money. There were rumors that he was saving up money to build a home at the fort and invite Narra to live with him, as their romance, once only something older soldiers would tease them about, had begun to truly bloom after she had helped nurse him back to health.

Gem had been the busiest, as with many wars going on, an assassin of her skill was in high demand.

She was just returning from one such job, assassinating a minor commander from the Deena state of Tirren. There was some sort of conflict in the area, and someone had apparently deemed it necessary that he die. He had been more skilled than most of her foes, by far, but was still nowhere the level of Guiltare or The Swordsman. As all men like him inevitably did, he fought, lost, begged, and died.

After The Swordsman had defeated and nearly killed her, she acted as though a flame had been lit in her soul, and her drive to become a stronger warrior had increased significantly. She had begun challenging Guiltare more often, and when she wasn't doing that, she was training, whacking at dummies set up in a field until Narra inevitably approached her with her next job. Her dedication was a bit unsettling, but many accepted it as one of the many aspects that made her Gem.

She walked through the gate, seeing Egral and smiling, waving to him. He walked over, smiling."Commander! Good fight?" She sighed."Not as good as I wanted." She replied."He was barely better than your average soldier....no offense." He laughed."None taken! If I were a good fighter, you'd have killed me by now!" Gem grinned."I will neither deny nor confirm whether your words hold truth."

He laughed."Probably for the best!" She smiled."Want to use that strength of yours for something good? I'll need a barrel of water at my tent, still got some of that jerk's blood in my hair." He smiled."Sure thing. Rasca, come give me a hand, will you?" Av'rasca frowned."Eh? Why?" He pat his shoulder and walked off."Help you break in the leg, eh? Come on." The one-legged man sighed and limped after his friend.

The two soldiers set up her bath for her, and were dismissed. Gem made certain the flaps of the tent were tied shut,then began undressing, smiling. Some people saw her scars and were repulsed, feeling pity or rage towards those who inflicted them. She felt only pride, for every single one, even those not earned in a battle, was a sign of success, of overcoming the odds, of survival. She slid off her shirt, seeing a dull, oval shaped scar on her arm, and rubbed a hand over it, smiling at the memory.
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The air around them was filled with the smell of cooking meat, and Morz nodded in approval."Ah, very finely diced onions. Now, add them to the stew please." She smiled and nodded."What kind of stew is this anyway?" Morz shrugged."It is a dish from one of the Clanland tribes called 'Coldwater stew'. Very unique, as you must have the ingredients enchanted for certain properties to get the right taste."

She frowned."Coldwater stew? But...you're boiling it." In response, the gruff chef dipped his ladle into the bowl, scooped out a small amount of the churning broth, then tossed a glob at her. She yelped as it struck her arm,but blinked in surprise."....It's cold..." He nodded."Now, hold this to it." He tossed her a small piece of ice. She frowned, then held it against the damp spot on her arm.