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Gutted
Jun 20, 2016 14:59:05 GMT -5
Post by King Redgar Karligar on Jun 20, 2016 14:59:05 GMT -5
Redgar awoke in a bed, facing an unfamiliar ceiling. He had remember being stabbed, and then beaten over the brow with a sword. He had assumed he died. Apparently he wasn't dead. He couldn't move, pain wracked his body. He was on his back with his torso mostly upright. His eyes moved around the room. He found that it was a one room house. Fireplace, table, bed which he was currently occupying, two chairs at the table, two elderly people sitting in the chairs, door, window.
Wait a minute. Elderly people?
There they were sitting at the table. An old man and an old woman. They were staring at him. He tried to rasp something at them, but couldn't quite get it out before passing out again. He dreamed this time. That was strange, he usually never dreamed of anything.
He dreamed of his sister, she was laughing about something. White hot pain filled his mind. He wanted to scream but couldn't. He wanted to run but his legs wouldn't move. He wanted to fight, but his arms wouldn't budge.
Redgar felt helpless.
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Gutted
Jun 20, 2016 18:11:42 GMT -5
Post by King Redgar Karligar on Jun 20, 2016 18:11:42 GMT -5
He didn't know how much more time had passed, but he felt it was enough for him to get moving. As soon as he awoke, he tried to sit up fully, and was met with a slap on the head. This surprised him and he was on his back again from his reaction. He almost fought the person that had dared to lay a hand on him, but he was wracked with pain immediately as his brain cleared the fog of sleep.
"Who are you, old woman?"
"Me? Oh just an old Sorathi woman."
"This sounds like the beginning to some crap story. No one's just an old woman. You don't get to be old by being boring."
"No, you don't. You get to be old by surviving. Which is what you are young man. A survivor. What were you doing in that alley with a hole in you like that?"
"Not to mention the crack in your head. Don't seem worse for that though."
"I was... I'm not.. entirely sure. Killing someone I think."
Why would Redgar lie about that? Not like that's a crime for someone of his station. Right? He could kill anyone he wants to within his own borders. No one would have a problem with it from a legal standpoint. Probably. Some people would definitely question his honor or his morals if he didn't have a good reason. But he wasn't in his territory. He was in Sorath.
"Oh, and why would you do that?"
"Because I'm Duke Karligar and they insulted my honor probably. What mook put me like this?"
"Some of the guard have been antsy lately. Ever since Rosterford fell."
"Rosterford fell?"
"Oh dear yes. The Skaldi rose up and took it. I hear the animals killed everyone."
"That would fit their pattern I think. Not sure, never fought Skaldi before. Could be interesting. Let me leave will you?"
"Nope, not until you're fit to move. Couple of days and you should be ok to walk. And I mean walk, anymore than that and you might tear your stitching."
"Sure sure. I'm going back to sleep now."
And with that he was out again. He had wasted what energy he had talking to the elderly couple. They seemed nice. They hadn't killed him yet. Maybe they'd reconsider now that his identity was known, if they believe him that is. The guard didn't seem to when he told him.
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Gutted
Jun 22, 2016 14:45:08 GMT -5
Post by King Redgar Karligar on Jun 22, 2016 14:45:08 GMT -5
Another day, another new bandage. He had spent the better part of three days in bed. Redgar woke up, and found the afternoon light peaking through the home's singular window. He was curious as to where he was. Neither the old man or woman were home at the time. Now was the perfect moment to try to slip away. He climbed out of bed slowly while holding the center of his stomach. He winced in pain as he shuffled across the floor towards the pile of equipment he had been wearing at the time he was attacked. His helmet could use some repair work, and so could his chest armor. Or rather, he could use new chest armor. The wolf skull cap had done little to protect him, but its motif was good. Perhaps it could be improved by a good smith?
The only person he knew like that was his peer, Mardok.
A & F Ventures was helpful and rapidly expanding however. There were other things he could use them for though.
Once Redgar got his things together he started towards the window. Reaching it was a task in itself. He was covered in sweat by the time he got there. Looking outside he realized that he was in an alleyway, surrounded by many similar hovels. Low income housing. This is where the poor lived. Every house was almost the same, part of a mass construction effort after some disaster. It was surprising to him for a moment. The market was far from where he was currently.
He reached for the door. It swung open before he could get his hand on the knob. The side of the door hit him in the head, knocking him to the floor, and out.
"Ah shit, he's out cold. Trying to leave I guess?"
"No, really? Your powers of observation are amazing."
"Your sarcasm isn't necessary woman."
"There you go again. Observing."
The bitter old lady and man argued until they had managed to get Redgar back into bed.
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Gutted
Jun 23, 2016 19:38:16 GMT -5
Post by King Redgar Karligar on Jun 23, 2016 19:38:16 GMT -5
Another day, another stupid conversation.
"I tell ya, onions are being sold at a premium right now. A premium. We should have been farmers."
"Being a cobbler is a good profession. Everyone needs shoes."
"Not everyone can afford shoes! Everyone can afford an onion!"
"You guys are so loud."
Redgar sat up from bed, and climbed out of it. He felt better, much better. His stitches were holding, and he was thinking clearly again. He only needed so much rest and medical care. The old couple didn't loot him. He was still in the city. He chalked it up to his good luck. Not the kindness of strangers. Because he's a jackass that's why. But his thoughts aside, the old couple were glad to see him up without straining himself. The old lady packed him a roll and some vegetables and sent him on his way. The old man started griping to her about giving away their food.
The duke left the hovel, and about a block later he was stuffing his face with the roll and shoving the vegetables into some street urchin's hands simply because he didn't want them. He wasn't thinking about how the kid may have been hungry or something. Gratitude was dispensed however:
"Thank you kind, sir!"
"Go fuck yourself."
The Duke's period of convalescence hadn't changed him one bit. He was still a ruiner of days.
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