Paladin - the path begins

Chapter 11

Tar'vid held the assassin's hood by his side as he looked down at Luna, at least... she looked almost identical, though her hair was a light brown rather than the dark of Luna's.

"Get her into the barn Karhald... please, I think I know her sister" Tar'vid asked, quickly glancing back to the inn.

Karhald didn't hesitate, lifting the prone elf onto his shoulder with one hand and sprinting into the barn. A few moments later men and women started emerging from the inn rubbing their eyes, brandishing clubs and lanterns. Tar'vid collapsed to his knees feeling light headed as blood continued to seep down his back, cursing that he hadn't healed himself as he pitched face first onto the ground. He lay there feeling people pick him up and carry him back into the inn, the room was getting blurry as he heard the clattering of cutlery and dishes as he was laid face first on a table, smelling stale beer and pungent cheese from between the table planks.

"Lie still lad" Tar'vid heard Morkin tell him calmly, as a leather belt was pushed into his mouth.

Tar'vid wasn't sure what was happening until a great lance of pain shot through his shoulder, making him bite down hard on the dry leather. The pain receded momentarily until he felt liquid on his back that stung to all hells. He felt a pat on his shoulder and Morkin's beer breath by his ear.

"You're going to be fine now lad, the arrow wasn't barbed and the alcohol should cancel out any poison... I hope?"

Tar'vid wanted to say that he couldn't be poisoned, but the belt was still wedged in his mouth tightly. He rolled off the bench and stumbled, several patrons from the inn catching him and helping him stand.

"Take him to my room" he heard a voice he thought was Bruhnel's.

Tar'vid was helped up the stairs to the Bruhnel's room, stumbling as he ascended, the stairs seemed to go on forever. Eventually, he was placed on a soft mattress, he had never known such comfort existed.

"Try to rest my boy, it's been a long night for you," Bruhnel said before he heard the door close with a soft creak.

Tar'vid woke with a start, it was still dark outside, though he felt it must be coming morning soon as he could hear bustling from downstairs, the telltale chink of armour giving the mercenaries away. He got off the soft mattress slowly, not truly wanting to do so. At some point in the night, someone had re-bandaged his back and it was still painful as he stood. Picking up his shirt from the bedpost he noticed it had been sewn up from the multitude of tears and holes from the last week on the road. Tar'vid pulled the shirt on, leaving the room quickly. He couldn't help feeling it would be some time before he would see its like again.

"You're awake... and rather sprightly for a man that was a pin cushion last night!" said a red-haired woman, she had a nose that had clearly been broken several times, though it did detract from the pox scars on her face.

Without asking she pulled up his shirt, checking out the wound on his back meticulously.

"Not my best work I must admit, but I was drunk and it was really rather dark" she muttered un-apologetically, dropping his shirt back down and taking a step back. Tar'vid raised an eyebrow and straightened his shirt. "My thanks for your help, I'm Tar'vid," he said, offering his hand.

The woman looked at his hand for a moment, raising an eyebrow herself.

"I don't shake hands, but your welcome young man. This one was on the house of course, but next time it'll cost some coin for me to stitch you up" the woman told him, walking away and sparking up a pipe she pulled from her belt pouch. Morkin appeared at the top of the staircase a moment later watching the woman leave.