#7: Zephyr & Stone — Realmfall: Foundations

Varg Raeed

Into the late evening of the camp, as the last of the wolf meat is finished and the group enjoys some rest, Varg sidles up close to Gorranach before the watches begin.

“Hey, warchief… Look this!” Varg rolls up one of the sleeves of her nightwear, presenting what had been a nasty cut from one of the blightspawn that Gorranach had healed with gold. Instead of leaving a normal scar, it had left a scar with faint, gently glimmering golden particles within — as if small pieces of crushed-up gold leaf had been dropped into the wound. “Varg’s never had a scar like this before! Might just be favourite! But uh. Should be worried?”

Gorranach

The sewing kit Gorranach is using slips out of his hands as he looks over. He barely catches it again before it falls into the dirt, though his eyes are glued to the healed wound. “Is that from today?” He asks while getting out one of his notebooks.

“I’ve seen this before. Well, sort of. That was between the scales of a Dracovian, they don’t scar the same.” Gorranach scribbles down a few words. “I always thought it a unique reaction in Seraphina, but—” He looks up at Varg’s face. “Sorry, that was the Dracovian.” And back at her arm. “—it seems something similar happened to you here. Or is happening.” Gorranach focuses back on his notebook, writing full paragraphs. A grave, concentrating look on his face.

Varg Raeed

“Dra-co-vi-an? That uh… That similar to ‘dra-gon’ we saw today?” She scratches her head whilst nosily inviting herself to stare at Gorranach’s notebook. “Varg new to this ‘draco’ stuff. Thought Nix was dragon.”

“And Wyverna says she like dragon, too… You also like dragon?! Is Varg dragon?”

Gorranach

Gorranach raises an eyebrow as he looks up from his notes. “I’m nae dragon, and neither are they. I’m not entirely sure about the thing we saw today. I always thought they were made up to raise the social profile of Dracovians. Not a bad tactic.”

Gorranach thinks on it for a moment. “Nix is a Kobold. Just a person but with scales.” He draws a few scales in his notebook. “Dracovians are that but bigger, more your size. And with a few small but important anatomical differences. Seraphina was kind enough to teach me all about those.”

Varg Raeed

“Ana-tomic… Uhh…” Varg looks temporarily dazed by the long Auridian words. “Sure! Thinking of big Nix is weird, but Varg take word for it. Might have seen big-kobold — er — Dracovian working at stonecutter, actually.” Varg beams wider as she pries. “Seraphina? Who Seraphina? This lucky wife of warchief?”

Gorranach

Gorranach’s eyes grow wide in surprise. “Of course not!” He says, now trying to look offended. Either way, his cheeks do get a little redder. “She was a scholar. Or an apprentice to one at least, while I was studying to be a doctor.”

He looks back at Varg’s gold-freckled scar and traces it curiously with three fingers. “You know the gold I used to help heal you a few times now? The yellow stuff. Seraphina was the first person I ever used it on.”

“She was shot in the neck with a bolt while trying to save me. I tried to help her with everything I had learned so far, but I knew it wasnae gonna be enough. Then the gold came out of nowhere. Patched her right up.”

“The whole thing left her with pretty obvious golden lines between her scales. They didn’t fade, at least not for those two years. After that, I dunnae know.” For a few moments Gorranach just stares down at the ground, his shoulders slumped. Then he smiles. “Either way, the scar’s nothing to worry about.”

Varg Raeed

“O-Oh…” Varg shuffles a bit, clear guilt on her face after the misunderstanding. “Varg’s sorry she got that wrong.”

She then looks at the scar more seriously — and fondly — now knowing it’s safe. “Like warchief’s brand… Varg likes it a lot. Bet Seraphina wears them proud too.”

Varg looks at Gorranach. “Varg knows she wouldn’t last many fights without you. Again and again you patch Varg up. Must be bored of orc-skin by now!” She beams. “Thanks for that. Makes Varg extra fearless! You like warchief who actually cares about warriors.”

Gorranach

“Just trying to follow someone’s example. In my own way, I suppose.” With the matter of the golden scar settled and recorded, Gorranach trades his notebook back for the sewing kit and continues refitting Sophi’s new clothes. “It’s not boring, by the way. Your skin — I like working with it.”

Varg Raeed

“URAH-HAH! Gorranach dig bigger grave with wife today!” Varg teases at his comment.

Gorranach

“Did I say something wrong?” Gorranach asks, looking as much confused as worried. “I just meant… you’re a good patient. Your — your skin is nice. You don’t… squirm.” He catches himself rambling, very deliberately closes his mouth, and takes a deep breath. Then he rights himself to sit up straight and in a very formal tone says: “I apologize if my words have caused offense.”

Varg Raeed

Varg bursts out with laughter, beaming at him when finished. “Warchief so funny!”

Orkish

Varg-याक-को-उकसाࣲ

“Prodding the yak” — a saying used when winding someone up.

“Or — in big-city talk, er… Playing with you. Yes.” Her grin fades into a more thoughtful smile as she lifts her hands up over the fire.

“Varg knows you already have woman. Told me at Keldern bar, and can see you miss her in your eyes.” She nods. “You and I, we share bond on the battlefield like siblings. Warriors. Feel linked when I fight with you. Strong.”

“What Varg said at the bar, er… About you being husband. Wasn’t about love, or mating. Was just rushing. Seeing if someone would help take care of Varg’s kids. Heard rumour people in big-city quickly marry into lots of money, or men with skills. Sounded good! But did feel wrong…”

“Honestly? Don’t care who sees Varg naked or who touch her. Long as grown. Ally.” She puts her hands behind her head in a free-spirited way, eyes clearly reminiscing. “From somewhere where that more normal than big city. But won’t stop Varg trying to show respect, and joke with friends.”

Gorranach

Gorranach eases up a little. “Will you go back? To your family, after this is done with.”

Varg Raeed

She shakes her head, firmly. Her expression hardens. “…Never. Varg’s kids are the only family she needs. Only the mountains, spar-pits and fresh thunder Varg misses.”

Gorranach

“You… would actually abandon family?” His hands move slower now — more deliberate — as he stitches the clothing. “What happened?” He sounds a little accusatory as he says this.

Varg Raeed

Varg is hesitant to reply for a bit, then shakes her head. “…They waged wars that not need to be fought. In time of peace.”

“They raise warriors young. Fighting not for things like Shardbinders… But fighting over control of small rivers. Fighting over arguments with other tribes. They treated Varg like dirt… and wasn’t the only one…”

“You fight to defend, to protect… Can tell by your shield. But Varg’s family wield the axe and torch.”

Gorranach

There is no hint of accusation left in Gorranach’s voice. “Oh. I see.” He finishes the last stitch on Sophi’s clothing and puts his tools away with care. Then he takes a deep breath. “Then, I’m glad you’re here instead.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t have the family you deserve.”

Varg Raeed

“It okay. Varg don’t know what family supposed to be like anyway.”

“Warchief Gorran’ seems like he knows, though.”

Gorranach

“Ay, they’re very important to me.” He gets up and puts a little more wood on the dying fire — only just enough, so it doesn’t burn too brightly across the plains. “I just hope I won’t let them down.”

“You know how I blurted out before that I was betrothed to Merthal Goldenheart?” Before sitting back down next to Varg, Gorranach walks to his pack and — after a bit of digging into a deep compartment — takes out a silver bracelet. “I’ve actually only met her a couple of times. Mostly at balls my family was invited to.”

“Lanacite is the favorite gemstone of someone I know. And the ones in this piece are especially lovely.” He smiles and holds it closer to Varg. “There’s a few small technical faults in the silver, but someone took risks with this design. This wasnae made for the money, or to please a master. Someone loved what they were making.”

“Merthal made this.” He says confidently, as if that fully answers Varg’s question.

Varg Raeed

“Woah!” Varg’s eyes widen at what Gorranach pulls out. “If Warchief Goldenheart was a mean stranger to her kids and swung that around, Varg would steal that — no question! Looks VERY valuable.”

Varg was clearly working hard to keep up with the conversation, not well-versed enough in Auridian or social cues to pick up on Gorranach’s slip. She takes a while to process his words and suddenly lifts her finger. “Varg understand! Warchief really, really like jewellery. Marry Merthal, and can lay on a whole bed of it!” She grins in teasing again, then shakes her head and answers more seriously. “Nah’ nah’ nah — Varg thinks she gets it. So someone who make good gems, good art, is best wife for Warchief Goldenheart?”

“Passion very attractive. Varg agree.”

Gorranach

Gorranach nods. “It would be an honor to marry her.” He stares silently at the silver for almost half a minute. Then, more quietly, he adds: “But I’m not good enough just yet.”

Varg Raeed

“Said somethin’ like that earlier… Why? Warchief heals, fixes things, has good ideas.”

Gorranach

“The children you took with you… did they all make it to Auridia?”

Varg Raeed

Varg’s expression quickly turns more solemn at the question. She nods. “…Was close. But yes. Was thanks to doctors like you.”

“Illness of new lands was hardest part. When they were all sick… Varg never felt worse. Felt so… useless…”

Gorranach

“But they did all make it, then?” Gorranach smiles, but there’s something somber lingering in his eyes. “That is good enough.”

He gets up and dusts himself off. “I am done with Sophi’s clothes. We should sleep. I doubt tomorrow is gonna go easy on us.”