Repercussions part 2

Posted on 15 Jul 2023 @ 7:02pm by Rogue Nazri Arisant & Mage Kalian Winter

2,977 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Summer Nights in Jader
Location: Green Griffin Inn
Timeline: Bloomingtide 9th

The prey's elbow did not quite hit Imran, but the attempt was sudden and unexpected enough that Imran lost his balance and slipped under the Qunari's weight, hitting his own elbow painfully on the cobbled-stoned ground. He grunted in pain and irritation and pushed and kicked at the prey to emerge from under him.

Nazri was moving slowly like he was underwater. The kick connected on his right side. He heard a crack, which could have been a rib, but he was not feeling any pain at the moment, though he was aware enough to figure he would later. As his opponent got to his feet, the qunari, who was still laying there, kicked at the man's left knee, at least he thought it was the left, trying to bring him back down to the ground.

Imran had definitely not expected his prey to have that much fight left in him. The Qunari's foot connected with his knee, making him yelp in pain and frustration - it was not supposed to be this hard, dammit! He hopped back on one foot and unsheathed his dagger. The Qun wanted this one back alive, but no one had said anything about intact. He hobbled around the prone body so he could come near his horned head without being in reach of his legs, determined to bash his skull in with the heavy pommel of his dagger.

Nazri, through a haze, saw Imran get back on his feet and move toward him. He had something in his hand, the qunari's eyes couldn't focus enough for him to know what it was, but, even in his drug-addled mind, he knew it could not be good. He reached out a hand hoping to grab his opponent's hand, though he would have settled for any other part and hoped he connected.

Imran easily dodged the prey's blind sweep of the hand. Maker, what a pain that tal-vashoth had turned out to be! He knelt behind his head, grabbed one of his horns, and raised his dagger to knock him out once and for good.

For the first time since he'd realized, albeit belatedly, that something was wrong, Nazri smiled, well tried to smile. Only the right side of his face responded to the signal his brain was trying to send, his right lip curling up.

If the bounty hunter wanted his horn, he'd give it to him, or at least try. He reared his head back attempting to headbutt the man with his horns.

Imran had not seen that one coming, the way his victim flailed blindly he hadn't thought he had that much strength left. And he wasn't used to horns being used as a weapon. As it stood he was unlucky, both that Nazri was stronger than he looked, and that he had been leaning so close to him. The horn pierced his throat with the wet sound of flesh being punctured. Imran's eyes widened but no sound came out of his impaled throat other than a gurgle. Only a trickle of blood came out but the moment Nazri's horn stopped plugging the wound, Imran would bleed out in seconds.

For the moment, Nazri was unaware of the damage that he'd caused. He just felt the other man let go of him. He pitched forward onto the grass and just lay there his breathing still irregular.

The moment the horn was wrenched from Imran's throat a geyser of blood followed, some of it splattering on Nazri's head. Imran lifted a hand and opened his mouth, but no sound came out and his eyes glazed over as he fell onto the pavement, unseeing.

"Nazri!" Martin turned around just then and his eyes widened when he saw Nazri's head covered in blood, a lot of blood. He stumbled in his direction as quickly as he could and knelt by his side, frantically looking for a sign his friend was still alive.

The qunari experimentally opened his eyes and a figure swam into and out of focus. "Kyle?" he asked, "is that you? I thought you'd left me. I thought you found someone else."

Oh, thank the Maker. Martin sat back on his heels, breathing a deep sigh of relief. And then he wondered - who was Kyle? Well, never mind that for now. Nazri needed help, urgently. Except he would be difficult to carry at the best of times, and Martin was not at his best. He glanced back at their opponents. The human was dead, whoever he'd been, his throat torn out in a way that turned Martin's stomach. The Qunari was alive but not going anywhere, and he was not a priority now.

"Nazri. It's me, Martin. Can you hear me ?" As he spoke, Martin ran his good hand on Nazri's head, looking for any potential wounds under all that blood.

There was a pause of about thirty very long seconds, that at least gave Martin the time to discover that none of the blood belonged to Nazri, or if it did, it was a minuscule amount.

Finally, the qunari did answer. "Martin? Who? Where am I?" He tried to sit up and made it into a sitting position when things started spinning he was hit with a bout of nausea and then fell back down toward the ground.

Maker help me. Nazri didn't recognize him. Martin could only hope it was a temporary thing due to whatever the Qunari and his acolyte had done to him.

"I am a friend," Martin said in his most soothing voice. "I'm going to help you, alright? But I need you to trust me. Can you do that? I need you to get up. I'll help you but I can't carry you, you're too heavy." Satisfied there were no physical wounds he took Nazri's arm with his good hand to encourage him to sit up.

Nazri didn't recognize the man leaning over him, but the voice was familiar. He looked again, Definitely not his first love though he resembled him. He licked his lips and managed to get into a sitting position with Martin's help. Things were still spinning, but they were spinning slower. "That's better," he was able to get out. But, I'm going to need your help to stand."

"Of course." Martin offered him his left shoulder. "Lean on me. We're not going far. Just follow my lead." Neither Nazri nor himself was in any shape to cross the whole town. The nearest safe place would be Martin's room. Hopefully, his landlord, Raoul, would not object. "Come on," he coaxed. "You can do it."

Nazri, with Martin's help, stood on shaky legs. He looked around as they took a stuttering step together. Glancing around them at the prone human and qunari he asked. Are they dead? Did you kill them?"

"Yes. No. I'll explain later. Come on." Martin started to guide Nazri down the alley, groaning under his weight even as he attempted not to jostle his right shoulder too much. Raoul's house was only a few streets away but that normally short distance felt like it had suddenly tripled. Nazri was sagging more and more over Martin's shoulder and he knew that if his friend passed out, he wouldn't be able to carry him.

"Nazri ?" No response. "Nazri, talk to me. Focus on me. Tell me about your home." Anything to keep him even marginally awake.

"I, I live at the Red Rooster. Or someplace like that," came the reply. "Who are you again?"

Martin would have sighed if he'd had enough breath left. "My name... Nggh... is Martin." After this, he was going to be upping his drills in and out of armor. He clearly needed to get back in shape.

They hobbled down the street as best they could. Martin really wished they'd run into some colleagues but at this time of day it was shift change and patrols were minimal. They would notice he hadn't come back, but it would be a while before they came all the way here.

"Come on. One step after the other. One more," he coaxed Nazri further. It felt like forever until he saw Raoul's house at the corner of the street, and another eternity before he was finally standing in front of the door. He knocked awkwardly with his elbow, knowing that if he let go of Nazri he wasn't picking him back up again.

The door creaked open, revealing Raoul, who fortunately often worked from the workshop in his backyard. His eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

"Martin? What...?!"

"Help... Me..." Martin grunted.

Fortunately, Raoul knew when not to ask questions. Without another word, he hedged his shoulder under Nazri's other arm and helped him inside.

"My room," Raoul declared. "We're not dragging that carcass upstairs."

"Couldn't... Agree... More."

With Raoul's help, manoeuvering the Qunari's immense bulk became, well, not easier but somewhat less impossible, and together they got Nazri to Raoul's bed. Thankfully, said bed was made of strong oak and it creaked only a little bit under Nazri's weight.

"We need to get him help," Martin said. "Kalian maybe, or that potion maker Dominic... Dominic something."

"You. Sit." Raoul pushed him into the welcoming arms of a deep armchair. "Stay here. I'll be right back." He paused before crossing the threshold. "And then you'd better have a bloody good explanation."

The qunari was at least aware enough to know that he was in a bed. Not his bed. At least he didn't think it was his bed. But, it was a bed He had mostly been oblivious to everything that was going around him on the trip to Martin's room.

At least the room had quit spinning he curled onto his side and started to snore.

Martin sank back in the deeply welcoming cushions of the armchair. He ached all over and he was probably going to be smearing blood everywhere but as he looked at Nazri's peaceful sleeping face, he couldn't find it in him to care. His eyelids drooped as exhaustion swiftly followed the excitement of battle.

***

Raoul closed the door behind him and set off towards the Raven's Roost at a brisk pace. As he walked he grumbled loudly under his breath.

"Good thing the kids are still in school... What was he even thinking... Blood everywhere... And a damn Qunari of all things, my mattress will never be the same... Bloody trouble, lodgers from the Guard. I should kick him out. Raise the rent at the very least. Bloody fool. Will give me grey hair before my time."

The Roost was only a few streets away and Raoul's grumbling was far from over by the time he got there and stepped into the tap room. At this time of day, there were few patrons, and the waitress attended him immediately.

"Beg pardon, miss. I'd like to see Messer Kalian. Could you let him know my lodger has found trouble again ?"

Dilana, an elf and long-time employee of the Raven nodded. "Of course, ser-"
"Raoul!" Kalian called out as he emerged from the kitchen. He was acquainted with the carpenter Martin rented a room from, and who also hosted Elinowy from time to time. Raoul had two adopted elven children who attended Chantry school with Kalian's niece Iris. "Is everything all right with Fey and Arran? You look worried."

"Kalian, thank the Maker," Raoul exclaimed, relieved to find the mage home. "The kids are fine, thank you. It's my idiot lodger. I swear I'm going to kick him out. He just showed up with a Qunari, both drenched in blood. I'm not sure how serious it is, the Qunari just passed out. In my bed. On my fine new mattress." He heaved a breath, his worry plain to see despite his grumbling. "Martin asked me to get you."

Kalian's smirk at hearing his friend Martin described as Raoul's idiot lodger faded into a grimace at the words drenched in blood, and he immediately ducked into his father's room across from the kitchen to grab his staff. The qunari in question must be Nazri. "Let's go," he said on his way out the door, then set off for Raoul's house at a jog.

"Right," Raoul said with more than a little relief. He had to run to catch up to Kalian, being some years older and not in as good a shape as the other man.

By the time they reached his house, he was out of breath and promising himself that he was going to have lighter breakfasts henceforth. Thinking about that was better than worrying about his lodger. Martin hadn't looked badly hurt but it was actually kind of hard to tell with all the blood. And the Qunari sure hadn't looked good. And to think other landlords only had to worry about drunkenness or lightly-clad lady friends. Martin had never indulged in either, but he was making up for it now.

"Thank you so much for coming," Raoul said as he opened the door for Kalian and led him across the living room to his room, where the Qunari currently lay.

Nazri was just starting to stir again. He wasn't fully himself, but at least the room was no longer spinning around him and he was just a little queasy. "Where am I?" he asked, "and why am I here?"

Kalian rushed to Nazri's side, taking note of Martin, who collapsed on an armchair. Both of them were, indeed, covered in blood, although most of it seemed to be on the qunari. Kalian started to go over the man's body, to determine how badly he was hurt. Healing magic needed to be used with care around broken bones, which should be properly set first. "Nazri, what happened?"

While most of the blood was on the qunari, very little of it belonged to him. Nevertheless, it took him a few minutes to respond. "Some bastard of a bounty hunter drugged me and took me to his master. There was a price on my head and he was hoping to collect. Thankfully, Martin showed up and saw to it he didn't have a chance to collect."

"You were drugged by a bounty hunter?" repeated Kalian, aghast. Wasn't Nazri a bounty hunter himself? "Anyone, you know?" Despite his blood-soaked clothing, the qunari didn't appear to have any open wounds.

"If I'd known them, they wouldn't have drugged me," Nazri pointed out, "at least I hope they wouldn't have. It was pretty stupid of me to fall for such a trick in the first place.

"There still is a price on my head, they want me to return home so they can put me in chains."

The apostate turned his attention to Martin. The city guard's right leather pauldron was stained a dark red and had been sliced open, and blood still seeped through the leather. Kalian quickly unbuckled the harness holding the pauldron in place and pulled it off with care to reveal a deep cut, still bleeding. "Looks like a clean cut, I can heal it with magic. Might be best if I clean the wound first. What kind of blade did this?"

Kalian waited for a beat for Martin to answer, then shifted his attention from the wound to Martin's face. "Looks like Martin has passed out, which might be for the best." He raised his voice and called out to Martin's landlord. "Raoul? Can you bring me-"

Raoul appeared with a basin, clean clothes, a kettle of hot water, and a bottle of spirits. "Ah. Exactly what I need. Thank you, Raoul." Kalian got busy cleaning Martin's wound. Not looking at Nazri, he asked, "Where is that bounty hunter now?"

"I'm not sure," Nazri replied, "everything is still a little hazy. But he should be easy enough to find. This blood is his and he's not going anywhere. He's dead."

Raoul made a show of putting his hands over his ears. "I didn't hear that," he said as he left the room.

Kalian finished with the water and started to slowly pour spirits over the open wound. Even unconscious, Martin flinched.

"Good to know your attacker isn't still coming after you," said Kalian. He held the wound together, opened his awareness to the fade, and began his healing spell. The muscles and sinews began to knit together, slowly under Kalian's watchful gaze.

When it was finished, he relaxed. "That went well, though Martin's shoulder will be sore, and he should rest it for at least a couple of weeks." Kalian regarded Nazri in Raoul's bed, covered in blood. "It's a good thing we can afford to buy Raoul a new set of bedding," he said, referring to the coin they made from clearing the mansion. "Are you sure you aren't injured?"

The qunari checked himself over. "Maybe a couple of bruises, but other than my ego, nothing serious. I can pay for the damages to the sheets. Are you sure that Martin is going to be alright?"

"As right as all of Martin ever is. I'll recommend that he take some time away from guard duty. I think he's mentioned that a visit to his family is overdue." Kalian removed the rest of his friend's armor so that Martin would rest more comfortably. "He should be in a bed instead of the chair. I think Martin's room is upstairs."

Kalian opened his mouth to call Raoul, but Martin's landlord chose that moment to walk in. "Give me a hand getting Martin to his own bed? Then if Nazri feels up to it, I'll take him back to the Raven's Roost."

"I think I can make it back alone," Nazri said. He cocked his head as he reconsidered. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to have an escort."

-----

 

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