Evelune's Story

This horse was built for ploughing and most definitely not flat out galloping. His sides were heaving with effort as his huge hooves pummelled at the earth. Evening had rushed away behind the mountain, the rising smoke becoming less and less visible in the withdrawing light. But Eve could smell it, the scent growing stronger with each heavy stride.

Only an hour ago had she reached a hand out to close The Teller’s eyes for the very last time after watching life fade from his old body. The Teller was what they all called him; no one was sure what had been his birth name. He claimed to have the power of sight, though the truth of this was unsure. One couldn’t deny his uncanny knack for predicting the weather and level of success of the next harvest. Mundane things. Residents of the Valley would often visit him asking of their fortunes, most for fun and some out of desperation. He was a kind old man, devoted to his land, but his wits had been escaping in the last few years. Yet he had always remained fond of Eve, and she of him. The Teller enjoyed her songs and rather bawdy jokes, she was the closest thing he’d ever had to a daughter, and likewise to Eve, he was the father she never had - and now he was gone.

“They don’t believe me Luney” he had said weakly, so soft that Eve had to lean closer to hear him. Her hands did close around his. She’d tried not to notice how translucent the skin looked; how cold his touch felt; how fragile his bones seemed. “I told them. Told them not to let them come and go as they wished. Our home. They’ll ruin us. I told them, I told them. I told you, Luney, you know.” A cough racked him, the rest came out in a wheezy drone; “I can’t do anything. Too late, too old, Luney. Just the start. Just the beginning.”

The flames that danced in his eyes disappeared.

But she didn’t know. He was insane. It wasn’t until the orange glow of fire was visible through the window beside the old man’s death bed that even she felt guilty and foolish for not listening to a seemingly crazy old man.

By the time she arrived at Fermiah’s Village it was over. It was clear that The Teller wasn’t the only death tonight. Eve made for the tavern in a sort of dream-like state, horse dripping sweat and dark eyes drinking in destruction.

Paradise?

Kaden and Elder Fermiah had helped Adion, Richter and the Alchemist carry the unconscious Ricard into the tavern, where the last flickers of a young flame were being doused by the bartender and his wife with a bucket fresh from the well. Other helpers had cleared tables and arranged them for the treatment of wounded; the dead would have to be lined up outside, there was little else for it.

"No!" The Alchemist snapped at Adion. "Do you have no sense, boy? This arrow is barbed, you cannot just remove it without causing mass internal damage!" The middle-aged woman was clearly in shock and snapping out the way she handled it, but she had to remind herself to take deep breaths... In and out, in and out. Ahh, it was working. Slowly she calmed and could better focus at the task at hand.

Kaden and Fermiah both watched in perfect silence, as though they knew that using their voices for prayer or outcry would be nothing but a waste of the breath so many had lost. The Alchemist tore Ricard's shirt, examining the messy wound and bruising as blood smeared all over her hands. The mess was unavoidable...

"I think a rib is broken," she explained, "and the wound about... four, maybe five inches deep. He should well be dead, I think, ironically, this arrow is keeping the boy alive. Even if we manage to remove it.. I'm not sure we can sa-" she paused, watching as Kaden turned and left as though he couldn't bear to hear another word. He didn't even know the boy, nor had he ever met him... But he couldn't watch what was about to take place in that room.

"Whe-... Where is my daughter?" Fermiah asked, finally finding his voice. "Illasera? Where is she?" Turning to the door, he stormed out, screaming her name and that question into the night-time rain.

Outside, Kaden had only one thing he could do. He stumbled past Cinaed, and Rand, and Heiwa, and Aldarine, and Amnon, and then finally Evelune to a primitive wooden drain near the end of the village. He buckled a little, then threw up.

(Sorry if I missed anyone. Just PM me if I did and I'll make changes!)

The witch nodded to Cinead. "We have only just arrived, but we will do what we can to help."

She turned to Amnon, lowering the lantern. "Find some way to make yourself useful. I'm sure I might have what they need to help the boy."

Amnon had barely finished closing the lids of the fallen man's eyes when the woman who had given him a lift spoke to him.

"Useful huh? Doubt there's much of anything I can do now for these people....but I've got an idea. See if you can't get the village elders to start organizing the bodies...."

"There is always more to do. They need to take care of the living, now. You should make sure that everyone fallen is actually dead, perhaps." snapped the witch. Organizing the bodies! The people could hardly organize themselves after the attack! She strode over to the Andalusian, checking the saddle bags for the herbs and medicines she often carried with her on journeys. She untethered one of the bags and rushed inside of the tavern.

"Who is the injured one?" she asked as she moved past several people. "I may be able to help."
Amnon sighed and shook his head.

No need to be so rude...

Well, she had a point, everyone was frantic enough. Expecting any kind of calm was a pipe dream. He rose to his feet and looked around the fields, surveying just how many bodies lie injured and groaning, and even more were silently still.

There's no way I can do this on my own though...

As he scanned his surroundings he noticed a woman mounted on a work horse, she seemed to have just happened upon the half razed town not a moment ago, like him.

"Excuse me," He called. "Would you mind helping me?"

Eve was lingering outside, trying to work out the best way to help. Blood-stained and smoke streaked inhabitants who she knew by name were moving past looking shell-shocked, and the previously hiding villagers had begun to emerge into the drizzle. It felt surreal. Never had she witnessed something like this.

The sound of retching joined the shouts and cries, of which most notable was Fermiah’s. She noticed the stranger who was spilling out the content of his stomach was accompanied Cináed, looking more than a little dishevelled.

Evelune tugged the tired horse to a standstill as a woman dressed in elegant silk crossed her path. So many outsiders littered the village. She scowled.

Time to help deal with the bodies.

"Excuse me," A man called in her direction "Would you mind helping me?"

She couldn’t help but snort as she swung a leg over the neck of the horse and dropped to the ground. Turning, she saw that this was yet another outsider.

“Help you?” Ironic. She pulled the reins over the horses head. “What would it be? A torch to burn more of our land? My horse to flee on?” Her tone was filled with sourness as she eyed him over, glaring through the falling rain. Plain enough, most definitely not a bandit, yet she did not feel guilty for being so hostile.

"I'm fine," Kaden grumbled as he stood and wiped his mouth. "Just in shock. And it's fine, I couldn't just leave someone to burn alive. I had a chance and I took it, even if saving someone was the only good I was in that fight I'm at least pleased I could do something."

His hair was growing wet and making his head cold; he couldn't tell whether his nose was running or if it was simply rain falling down his face. Either way, he didn't like it, so he turned back towards the tavern.

"I didn't hear what she said about him," he continued. "I think he'll be okay, though. The Gods have blessed him, he's still alive at the very least and that's an accomplishment itself."
He could have talked more, but Fermiah's yelling was getting louder.
"Where is my daughter? Has anybody seen Illasera?!"
On and on his questioning went, as he literally grabbed people by the shoulders and looked them in the eye so they could not possibly lie to him. He got no result. No-one seemed to know where she wa-
"Elder!" A farmhand called out, rushing to him. "I've just been around to check that the people who work the crops were all safe and some of them haven't shown up. Then a child came out of hiding in a woven barrel and said that the outsiders had taken them with sacks over their heads and managed to escape on horseback before anybody even knew what was happening!"
"And my daughter is one of them?" The Elder asked, clenching fists so hard his palms began to bleed. "You people did this!" He cried, reaching out to point at the outsiders gathered. "You just couldn't leave our valley alone, you just had to bring more and more of you in until the scum of your foreign world followed you! My son is dying, my daughter kidnapped; I can't stand to bear the thought of what is happening to her.. What WILL happen to her! LEAVE! Take your violent ways and disgusting cultures with you! Stop bringing tragedy to our home!"
Fermiah was clearly in a state that could hardly be considered normal. His sense of reason seemed to have gone, replaced by fear, shock and a lot of anger. He could barely figure out how he was supposed to handle the entire mess, let alone fix it. So he gave up, turning and fleeing back to his estate so he could spend the rest of the night in the confines of his home without saying another word.
-
Inside the tavern, the Alchemist was repeatedly shaking her head. "I'm not sure. I've dealt with accidents before, of course, but never such a violent injury. Still, I believe we may be able to save him if we are skilled and the Gods grace him with the strength he needs to survive."

She turned to Adion, narrowing an eye. "Fair enough, boy. Go back to my shop, check the storage for your honey flax. I can't afford to wait for you, we have to act now, but if you can get your rune working in time we can certainly give it a try. Don't expect my stock to be of high quality and do not expect enough doses to allow wastefulness."
"As for now, we need to sit him up. Gather damp cloths and sheets, we need to take a hammer and force the arrow through until it leaves an exit wound. Then we can remove it. It will be a risky job, we will need to apply extreme pressure to both sides so that we can limit his bloodloss and the hand holding the hammer needs to be steady enough to be straight and true and not go off course and cause us even more of a problem. So far, his bloodloss has been limited due to the arrow, so let us keep it that way. Perhaps if Adion succeeds with his rune on time, we can use that to finish up. If not, we will need hot iron.
This will not be clean."

"W-Wait," grumbled the weak Ricard, who had slowly been regaining consciousness. He had heard everything outside. All of the commotion, all of his father's shouting. Even near death he knew what he had to say and what he had to ask of them.
"Richter... Don't worry about me. Save the people who were taken.. Save my sister and the others. Please.. Before they're tortured or worse. Make sure they come back to us alive..."

As he finished, he passed out again.
-
Outside, the weather was getting worse. The rain had washed away the tracks of horses and pools of blood. It had doused the remaining fire, cleansing the street like a gift from those they worshiped. And as though those same gods were striking the ground in anger, the rain mixed with humid air and a furious thunderstorm quickly took shape.

Well, no need to be so rude...

Amnon understood that in light of recent events, that anyone from outside the Valley would be viewed with a healthy amount of caution. But to be outright hostile to someone like himself who was only trying to help was unreasonable.

He held his hands up to either side of his head. "I was only going to request your aid with helping those who may need it. There are a lot of bodies lying around here, but just because they're on the ground does not mean they have passed on, but if we don't render some sort of aid it won't be long until they do. We need to set up some kind of hospit, and start organizing the bodies. That way we can help with both the injured and taking a roll call of sorts. This way family members can find their loved ones. We should also get working on a missing persons list."

He sighed and lowered his hands.

"As you can see that's a lot of work for just one person to handle, so yes, I need your help. someone who isn't an outsider to help organize the locals. We're not sure if whoever attacked here is truly gone, or just regrouping for another strike. We need to have our heads on straight if it's the latter."

Her eyes flitted between the two palms he held up to face her. So he wasn't going to set her on fire. What a relief. It had been a tough day for her without that.

People were darting about frantically; injured friends slung over their shoulders, family members colliding in the torrential streets having found each other, emitting strangled cries and hysterical laughter in relief. She spotted a lone person carrying a jar of something that looked like salve. Of course, the number of burn injuries would be high.

She listened to the man, half-in half-out of her bewildered daze. Every now and again she would focus enough to glare at the stranger. It was a few seconds before she realised he had stopped talking since she'd been distracted by her own thoughts of The Teller and the happenings at the entrance to the Inn where his companion had disappeared into. It was the heart of the village and people seemed to have started accumulating, looking for answers. She lifted a cloaked arm through the heavy falling rain and jabbed a finger towards it, remembering him saying something about a hospital. "There" Her voice had lost it's anger. "We take the injured there."

Organising bodies. Roll call. Missing persons... Another strike. "I- I can't get my head straight. This doesn't happen here. This is My Valley."

Oh, but it was happening. How did this person know what to do? He'd seen things like this before. That's what it sounded like. What was it like out there? For someone to be familiar of such a horror story like this? Eve caught herself gazing out to the mountains as a flash of lightening framed them against the sky. She tightened her grip on the reins. A deep breath allowed her to steady herself.

"Check pulses. Leave the dead, for now. Take the injured to the Inn, only serious injuries. Get someone to start the list." She said, thinking out loud, though most of it vanished beneath a roar from the heavens as thunder rolled through the clouds.

They were wasting time. Eve took a step forwards against the wind, pulling the work horse along after her; she couldn't carry more than one injured person, but the gelding could.

"Don't try anything, Outsider."