The warmth of a fire, the softness of sofa, the comforting pressure of a heavy blanket, the scent of stew cooking and coffee boiling. These were the things that greeted Fokmir as she returned to the land of the waking after her close encounter with death, her eyes slowly opened and then closed, once. Then twice. Then thrice. Then finally they shot open with the realization she was no longer in the forest, but neither was this an orcish settlement, the structure she was in now was no tent... it was a home, seemingly constructed of clay brick walls with oak wood floors and the trunks of several birch trees acting as support beams both within the walls and a handful standing as free pillars within the room, though not in places that would make things feel crowded.
It was clear that whoever lived here was rather talented in architecture, or at the very least they were lucrative enough to know somebody who was and to pay them to build such a place. But the question stood. Who lived here? She couldn't remember much beyond detecting a scent and wanting it after she'd entered the woodlands beyond Straxesma, that and the faint image of an insect and a flower, though nothing more... but the color orange.
She shrugged and pushed the blankets off of her before moving and trying to stand up, only to call out in pain and fall to the floor, wincing in agony as both her calf and her back stabbed at her and ached. It was then that she looked down at her leg and saw a bloodied bunch of bandages wrapped around her leg where she felt the pain, then to her back where she saw a similar bloody spot right above her other source of pain, leaking through the bandages and staining them.
"What in the seventeen layers... what happened to me?" she winced in pain and looked around for her weapons, both of which were sat on a table only twelve or so feet away from the couch "Whoever brought me here left my weapons within reach? The fools must be mad." she laughed but was cut off by the pain, and so began dragging herself towards her tools of war in agony, aiming to be armed should her current captors return to finish her off
Though when she heard the sounds of footsteps approaching from the hall, a snarl filling her throat as she held her mace out behind her, ready to throw it at whatever came through the door, no matter what it may be. But then something she didn't expect happened when she saw motion and threw the mace toward where she expected the head to be she totally missed, sending the weapon crashing into a wall and maybe through it, a loud string of swears leaving the man... dwarf who had just entered the room.
The dwarf walked forward and poked his head past the couch with an annoyed frown on his face and a scowl written all over "For the love of the three, girl. What are you going and breaking me and me brothers' home for after I rescued you from the mandibles of death?" as he came out from behind the couch he held a set of fresh bandages and a bottle of liquid in his hands "Put down the damned hammer, would you? By the life of me, you and Fenris are gonna get along just fine and dandy, ye are."
She frowned and raised an eyebrow at him, the red tattooed mark running along from the left side of her forehead and down to her chin being slightly obscured by her disheveled braids "What the... why?" she kept her hand on her maul, though slowly lowered it
"Why did I decide to help a raging pile of green muscle that was liable to butcher me the moment it woke up? Well, I spose it's just that I saw the alraune about to make a meal out of you and I couldn't just let you get got. I'd have nightmares and all. Now relax and let me change out those bandages. Ya had a dagger in your back and the damned flower devil got ya in the leg." he moved toward her, making sure she put the maul down before he dropped to a knee and began unwrapping the bandages around her calf
A look of disgust filled her face as a wound deeper than any she'd ever gotten from a blade on the battlefield was gaped open, a horrible sight, the inside flesh being blackened with what seemed to be rot while the area around it a shade of purple "Lucky we got back in time, it was looking worse earlier, but the alchemist in town was able to whip up a brew to help fight back the venom and the infection too."
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Straxesma
FantasyJoin Fokmir, a 19 year old orc from the shattered country of Straxesma as she journeys far from home and makes a number of friends, finds love, and faces the greatest evils of this land from the slave trade of Sigalon to the great shadow that casts...