#3: Keeping Busy — Realmfall: Foundations

Gorranach

The forest is still grey when Gorranach wakes. Still he rises; the very first chirp of a bird tells him that dawn can’t be too far off. Standing up, his body aches, and the burns caused by the exploding Emi pull at his arm as if his very skin has shrunk and no longer accommodates the muscles underneath. Quickly he removes his bandages and looks at the wound. A spike of terror moves through him as he sees his skin. He hadn’t had enough time to soothe the burns with cold water, and they were sure to scar now in an ugly manner. Would this be enough to cause his parents to—

“No,” Gorranach forces himself to think. “I have other uses too. The situations are different.”

A few calming breaths later he surveys the camp. Several of his companions — he supposes that is what they were now — struggle restlessly in their sleep. One or two others don’t seem to him to be sleeping at all. Not that he can blame them. His gaze lingers on one of them a little longer than the rest. Something seems to glimmer where Wyverna lies. Her scales. Somehow, even without light, it is as if they glisten. Fascinating. Then Gorranach remembers the wounds she took deviating from their plan at the spiders, jumping in front of him like a seventh son with a desperate need to prove something on the battlefield. Unlike his burns, that wound needn’t leave a permanent scar. At least, not with the right care. Gorranach nods. He better get to it then. Next to his feet is Sophi, having perhaps the most disturbed sleep of all. During the night he had almost regretted his insistence on sleeping near her. Stray limbs painfully woke him up not once but twice. But Gorranach had told her father he would keep her safe, so that’s what he will do. (The second most sacred thing is a promise. Isn’t that right?)

Gorranach bends down to wake Sophi. Her eyes shoot open wide, but she doesn’t strike at him the way he thought she might. The lass just lost her parent after all. Well. Last thing she needs now is feeling useless. Or having too much time on her hands.

“Get up.” Gorranach says. “Light a torch if ya can’t see, and come with me. I do not want you to be useless, so yer gonna keep busy today. Do you know what frogwart looks like?”

Sophi

The quality of her sleep had been subpar at best. Everything felt surreal, as if she was trapped in a bizarre dream within the heart of Minimis Forest. She had never been one to engage in such activities, aside from the occasional camping trips with her father, brief yet memorable moments. Father… Amidst the uncertainty, she clung to the belief that he had survived, that he was out there somewhere. He must be. A deep voice, both unfamiliar and strangely familiar, penetrated her thoughts. She stirred, her eyes opening easily. She was surprised at how readily she had woken up, or had she even been sleeping? She wasn’t typically a light sleeper, yet any unfamiliar noise would easily rouse her from slumber. She listened to his words, though her skepticism about him and the situation remained, her mind was on high alert. Trust no one until they prove otherwise. Did he have some ulterior motive, some nefarious plan? Why had he picked her? She didn’t sense any hostility, though that didn’t completely dispel her doubts.

“Is it still early?” she murmured, her tone cautious. Rubbing her eyes, she gradually straightened herself, remaining seated on the hard forest floor. “No, I’m not familiar with those.”

Gorranach

“Freshly plucked it helps against infection. We collected a lot of wounds last night, so now it’s time to collect some herbs. I’ll show ya what to look for, but make sure ya stick close to me.”

Giving her only a short minute or two to comply, Gorranach strides to the nearby trees, though he stays close to camp until Sophi joins him.

Sophi

Sophi complied, although she was definitely reluctant. She had declined his earlier offer last night of a weapon, but at least this task seemed manageable, bearable, or at least for a cause most noble. In her past ventures, she had often distanced herself from her father’s hunting endeavors for wild game. She detested violence in any shape or form, and while she recognized the necessity of acquiring food somehow, she couldn’t entirely shake the discomfort it brought.

“Fine,” she replied, “but could you at least assist me in lighting a torch? This isn’t a task I’m accustomed to.” Her voice carried a touch of exasperation.

Gorranach

“Ai.” Gorranach takes the torch and his flint and sets to lighting it. How were humans so frail — not even seeing in darkness — yet so plentiful? It was… vexing— no… hopeful? In mere seconds, Gorranach lights the torch, even as they’re on the move. This isn’t his first stint in the wilds. Now a beacon of light, he hands the torch back to Sophi.

“You said you wanted no part in violence. That’s a sentence that can kill people. Usually the person that says it.” Gorranach takes out the very same dagger he tried to give her the previous night. Holding it by the blade, he once again presents it to her. “You sure you want to stand by that?”

Sophi

Sophi’s fingers clutched the torch, but her grogginess momentarily threatened her grip, causing her heart to pound in response. She quickly shook her head to regain her composure. She matched Gorranach’s pace through the woods, her soles throbbing in protest. Her chosen attire and gear proved ill-suited for the long trek, a fact she was acutely aware of. She attempted to listen to Gorranach’s words carefully but found herself growing irate. Did he not take her seriously?

“Yes, I mean it,” she retorted, her frustration evident. “Keep the dagger away from me. I want nothing to do with it if I can avoid it. I hope you’re understanding me now.”

Exhaling sharply, she pressed on, her patience thinning. Unable to contain her discomfort any longer, the words burst out, “My feet hurt terribly. I didn’t want to complain last night, but it’s becoming unbearable. My shoes… they were a poor match for this terrain. I discarded them during our night journey.”

Gorranach could no longer miss the fact that Sophi was now traversing the woods without any footwear.

Gorranach

Immediately after she refuses to take the dagger this second time, Gorranach says: “I see.” He puts away the blade and makes very sure to face away from Sophi before grinning. “That conviction will be difficult to stick to in our situation, but it’s a noble one. I want to help ya keep it.”

Gorranach bends down to the shrubbery that just caught his eye. He plucks it, then turns to Sophi and holds out the fresh frogwart. “So if ya willnae be useful hurting people, I’ll teach you how to do the opposite.”

Following the outburst about her lost footwear, Gorranach kneels down to look at her feet. “Ay, you’re gonna need a set of good boots. Don’t want any open cuts giving you an infection. I wish you hadn’t thrown away your old pair, but I’ll ask around what materials we have with us. Perhaps I can fashion something temporary.” He stands up and continues on the move. After just a few steps in his own sturdy boots, he pauses and sighs. He takes them off, turns around and holds them out to Sophi. “Not a single word about this to another dwarf. Ever. And I’ll want them back.”

Sophi

Sophi found herself genuinely surprised by Gorranach’s reaction. Her stubbornness usually met with some resistance, but he seemed to want to help her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. He wants to help me keep it? She puzzled over his words, until she was able to decipher that he probably meant the opposite of hurting. Did he mean healing, like his own abilities? The idea suddenly had an allure she hadn’t considered before. She’d witnessed a few patrons at the inn who were healers, employing both magical and non-magical means. She’d never really inquired, as her life seemed just comfortable enough as it was.

“Sure,” she replied, her curiosity piqued. Drawing closer to Gorranach, she was more eager to hear what he had to say. As she tried to identify the frogwart among the foliage, mimicking Gorranach’s actions, her surprise resurfaced when she saw him holding out his boots. She blinked, her earlier complaint almost forgotten. “I… What about you then?”

Gorranach

“My feet can handle a lot more. At least here there’s no chance of frostbite. Now come on, the wounded at camp will need that frogwart.”

Showing the plant again, he explains: “The fern-like leaves make it resemble a webbed frog’s foot. What we need is the fluid in these growths.” Gorranach points to the stubs growing along the stem. “Don’t confuse them with normal ferns, though, they won’t do. Frogwart stays closer to the ground and the leaves always grow in a crown of four.”

Sophi

Sophi nodded, paying close attention to Gorranach’s instructions. All of a sudden he seemed quite wise to her and she had fleeting doubts as to whether rejecting the dagger was a good idea. After all, she did need to defend herself. Memories flashed of her cowering in fear as the terrathid emerged from the hole in the cavern, immobilized by terror when quick action was crucial. She realized she could have easily perished. She could have died.

“Yes sir.” she acknowledged. Less than a minute passed before her curiosity spurred her to speak again. “If I may ask, where did you learn how to do all of this… The plants… Treating people? Did you learn this from where you came from?”

Gorranach

“Ay. I’m from Avaldorin. My father’s keep stands watch over the grand city of Kalduhr. I requested my parents to let me study under Kalduhr’s chief surgeon. My mother trained us to repair armor before we could walk, I figured repairing people was important too.” Gorranach smiles as he rips another two frogwart plants from the ground. “I’m still surprised they let me do it at that age.”

Sophi

Sophi didn’t bother pretending that she knew where Avaldorin was; a visible frown crossed her face. There was so much she didn’t know. She was caught off-guard by Gorranach’s phrasing. Repair? She must have heard him correctly, but it was such an unusual choice of words. Did people in his line of work view injured individuals as things to be repaired? It seemed odd at first, but the more she pondered it, the more sense it made.

“So, injured people are considered broken…? Is that how you perceive them? As things to be fixed?”

Gorranach

“Ay to be fixed where they can. I’d be very careful with that term though, ‘broken’. I’ve seen too many things cast aside because someone decided they were broken, when perhaps all they were was damaged. I fix whoever and whatever I can to avoid that.”

Gorranach

He turns to look at Sophi. “And you, have you any experience patching wounds at all? The occasional rowdy patron roughing someone up, or does that nae happen in human lands?”

Sophi

Sophi shakes her head. “No. Surprisingly the people who’ve come to the inn have been pleasant, locals and foreigners alike — generally if any fights would break out they’d be sent to Shobba’s Apothecary. A ratfolk called Shobba ran a store with a lot of restoratives for sale, she also had a room where she’d treat people who were hurt or ill. She was sort of the village’s doctor, and she took pride in being that…” Her tone gradually shifted as she continued to speak. “Now that I think about it,” she glanced at the frogwart, “I do recall seeing some of these at her storefront whenever father and I would visit her.”

“Do you think they’re all gone? Maybe a few of them escaped to the outskirts, we could try to find them, help them. Just like you’ve helped us so far.”

Gorranach

Having circled them both back to the campsite, Gorranach takes the pestle and mortar from his traveling pack. He puts it down on a damp rock that provides a relatively even surface. It’s not the environment he’d prefer, but for this it will do.

“Separate just the growths and grind them down using this. We’ll collect the fluid and dab it on the wounds.”

Also getting to work plucking the frogwart, Gorranach answers her question. “I think some will have made it out. It’s almost impossible to trap a large group of people without a few escapees. We’re proof. But, I’m not sure we should find the survivors.” He sighs, his expression resigned. “I’m not sure if we should trust everything she says yet, but if half of what Marza says is true, being near us would only put other survivors from the village in more danger. And even if that part isn’t true, anyone that we can track down with the nine of us will be found by our attackers long before we can.”

“Wanting to help is commendable, but sometimes the choice is saving half the patients, or none at all.” He takes out more of his healer’s tools, looking out over the now waking camp. “And we have patients right here.”