➶ quest

[Kitty~.]

a l l y a
role;; rogue archer
race;; elven
tagged;; the party
and Ilian
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Alyce navigated her way through the forest of concrete structures. She would much prefer the rooftops, however in the state the other two were in she doubted they could follow. Besides, it was a little conspicuous - an elf and two humans just walking upon some rooftops. They were trying to avoid any unnecessary attention, not gain it.

The talkative elf that was following them made her a little uneasy. Every now and then, her gaze would flicker from the road before them to the tag-along by their sides. Why she insisted on harassing them, Allya was yet to confirm. Initially, she appeared to either want to help or poison them (despite her soft denial). The elven archer wasn't certain of what she was doing now. Did she wish for money? For companionship? For entertainment? Well, Allya was sorry to break it to her, but she'd find very little of that here. Fabian would make sure of that.

At Alyce's words, she hummed, giving a single nod. "I try to stay away from human cities, but circumstance requires me to visit," she said coolly. She was a traveler after all, and even if she disliked the bustling, confined towns, they provided a myriad of opportunities that the deserts, woods or tundras simply didn't have. Out there, you had to work to survive. In these cities, it was so easy...people were so naive.

Rounding another corner, Allya was pleasantly surprised to find she could spot the rumoured clinic. She could only hope she was correct in her assumptions. She marched forward with more purpose to her step, partially with the eagerness to get to the healer and partially because she couldn't see Fabian getting happier as more time passed. The elven dagger-wielder appeared to irritate him even more than she unnerved Allya. Warily, she cast a cautious glance back in their direction. There was a thick tension amongst the group that hung over them like a heavy cloud. It did not appease the archer in the slightest.

Coming to the run-down stable, Allya lowered her head, slouching a little as to appear smaller and ready herself for any attack. Knocking was a courtesy long-lost upon the nomad as she swung open the wooden door and stepped through, her hand resting on the hunting knife she had stolen back Fabian had so graciously returned to her. She was slightly surprised to spot an elf within the structure, his dark skin lined with blue tattoos that arched across his face and pointed ears. Still, she was yet to let her guard down. Eyes curious, she asked, "You are the healer, yes?" She watched him with ongoing trepidation, uncertain of the correct conduct in such an instance. Her 'people skills' usually didn't go beyond the odd conversation with a fellow nomad. She had essentially filled her quota for the year for spending so much time with Alyce and Fabian, even if her time speaking had been few and far apart.

Her green eyes scanned the area, searching for any signs of danger. It appeared fine - no hidden traps or weapons that she could note, only the smell of hay and well, more hay. It wasn't ideal, sure, but they would take anything that was given to them. This was like a resort in comparison to some of Allya's other locations - she'd (badly) sewn up her own wound in a swamp once. It had ended up infected, of course, and she was forced to seek further medical attention by an actual healer, but that only further proved their fortune in finding this place.

[Wolvine]

█

Ｉｌｉａｎ  Ｄｅｒｅｉ

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█

Ｅｌｖｅｎ  Ｍａｇｅ

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Ｗｉｔｈ：  ｔｈｅ Ｐａｒｔｙ

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Ilian was sitting, back against the wall, mixing poultices when they arrived. It was comforting to grind the herbs into paste, the methodical motions distracting him from the very real possibility that he'd be dragged off and locked up. His fingers tightened around the pestle as he considered this. A life of imprisonment, constant surveillance. It couldn't end here. It couldn't. So many people had given up so much for him to avoid that fate. If the templar came for him he'd fight.

His eyes flicked down, watching the leaves be ground against the bowl's side, the green spreading. Suddenly the motion didn't seem to calming, so clinical. It was making him feel sick. Ilian let out a long breath, setting the mortar and pestle next to him, then bringing the palms of his hands to his eyes. He pressed until spots of light appeared in his vision, which probably wasn't good for his eyes, but what the hell, they were already ruined anyway. His head slumped back against the wall, and he tried to blank his mind once again.

The door opened. It was far too early for Minerva to be back already. He snapped to attention. Four figures. They were too far to make out details, the light from the open door even further distorting them, but he could see the glint of weapons. He jumped up to his feet, reaching instinctively for his staff, before realising he'd left it near his bed of straw. Wonderful. He could still defend himself, but it would be harder.

One of the figures asked him if he was the healer, which made him hesitate. Was this... Was this a trick? Did they need to make sure he was the right person? It seemed... unlikely to say the least. Most people didn't know who he was. Those who did were usually too grateful to rat him out. "Who are you?" he asked hesitant. He inched closer, trying to get a better look. Two elves, two humans. They didn't look like templars. Could they have been hired to draw him out? Was he being too paranoid?

The man's posture was stiff, indicative of an injury, as was the human woman was holding herself at a strange angle. Perhaps they were people who genuinely required his assistance. He allowed himself to relax a little, but he still kept a careful eye on them. "I am a healer, of sorts," he admitted, walking towards them. If they tried something, he'd be ready. He'd rather set the whole barn on fire than risk being taken. As he got closer, the features of the people began to sharpen. They'd clearly been through some hardship, what with the scars and barely healed wounds littering their faces. Almost certainly adventurers rather than templars, then. That was good. The human female was looking at him, clearly making to attempt to hide her scrutiny. He shifted slightly; he'd never liked being the centre of attention.

"You're one of the forest elves." He blinked, surprised. Usually such a statement was made with more subtlety, questioningly at the very least, but clearly these people weren't ones for tact.

"Of sorts," he repeated, which despite being true, would probably come off as him trying to be mysterious. "What gave me away? The naked chanting at the moon? The human sacrifices?" If these people were here to take him away, giving them lip probably wasn't the best idea, but he couldn't quite help it. He rubbed at his chin, a little self-concious of his tattoos. They always had marked him as an outsider. It hadn't been any different among the elves. "I take it you require assistance."

[Kitty~.]

a l l y a
role;; rogue archer
race;; elven
tagged;; the party
and Ilian
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Allya exhaled through her nose, watching the Healer with caution. Perhaps he had been proclaimed a mender of the ill, however the few healers she knew had certainly known how to pack a punch. Magic wasn't just for injuries, after all. The woman had once seen a man charred from the inside out due to the workings of a mage. Personally, she liked them just as much as the next guy, but the prospect of that type of power frightened her a little. One could dodge the blade of a maddened knight, or the piercing arrow of a hostile, but magic was controlled by something far beyond the physical.

He moved forward, bringing an unwelcomed tension upon Allya's coiled muscles. To her relief, there wasn't a staff in sight. A skilled mage, however, could cast spells with or without such an implement. When he asked the question, she didn't feel obliged to answer. Who were they? She wasn't entirely sure herself. Titles meant little in comparison to heritage and background. Gazing up through sharp, green eyes, she persisted to watch him carefully. If his posture and unease were any indication, he too was uncomfortable. That could either play to their advantage or do quite the opposite. One wrong move and - like that one man - two successfully fried humans and two successfully fried elves. Medium rare, for future convenience.

As he neared closer, Allya allowed herself to take a step or two back until her spine was flush with the wooden walls of the stable. If he were to light them aflame, she was going to be the last one burning - she would make sure of that. The light conversation with Alyce eased her slightly and she removed her hand from the hilt of her blade, instead resting her arms crossed over her chest. His quick-witted retort drew an unbidden smirk from her chapped lips as she snorted in dry amusement. As far as she was concerned, Allya had no qualm with the elves of the forest. Although she commonly defied any and all tradition, her mutual distaste for humans allowed a sense of hospitality among the variety of clans. What worried her was the 'of sorts' part. A healer 'of sorts' was far too vague, as was his following statement.

Still, he appeared less threatening than others and beggars couldn't be choosers. She didn't see any weird rituals going on in there or anything, just a single mage, probably as frightened by them as she was of him. Eyeing him with uncertainty, she shuffled on her feet. An answer was better than silence, she figured, so she spoke. "I'm a traveler - Allya," she said, studying his expressions carefully. "And...yes. If you have help to offer, we will likely accept it." She didn't like being the spokesperson of a group she barely knew or liked, but (to her absolute shock and disbelief) it occurred to her that out of the four, she was probably the best with communication. Well, perhaps other than Alyce, but the archer had experience. She didn't talk a lot, but when she had, it would be to a variety of different individuals. God forbid Fabian attempt to talk. It was hard to believe - the elven nomad, the least intimidating of their ragtag group! Almost laughable, were Allya not completely on edge. She could only hope the healer was convinced.

[Keriae]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
ＦＡＢＩＡＮ ＳＨＡＲＰＥ
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
❛''''ＡＮＤ Ｉ＇Ｍ ＮＯＴ ＢＡＣＫＩＮＧ ＤＯＷＮ
I WILL STAND MY GROUND! I WILL STAND MY GROUND!
⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯

★x
★
★

ＢＥＣＡＵＳＥ
ａ ｃｈａｍｐｉｏｎ ｉｓ
WHAT THEY CALL ME NOW!

★
★
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xxxxxxxage: twenty seven
xxxxxxxclass: warrior-knight
xxxxxxxtagged: party

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They arrived at what was, apparently, a healer's abode. And what a temple of healing it was, filled with piles of straw. Such a hygienic place, the perfect building you would come to if injured or ill. Which, you know, three of them were. If this was all they could afford with their limited coin - and there was still the chance that this healer would take advantage of their sorry state and charge more than they had in their very empty coin purses - then they would have to make do, wouldn't they? As long as Fabian got the muscles in his injured shoulder sorted (as it was the muscles that were hurting now, as the bone had been set in place) then he really didn't care. He could always slit this elven mage's throat in the middle of the night and no one would ever know. And they'd get their coin back too. Imagine getting healed for free!

As it was, Fabian still wasn't happy about this entire situation. The stupid elven girl from the town gates had followed them, nattering on all the while and doing nothing to improve his surly mood. At one point he'd honestly thought of just hitting her around the head and sending her sprawling onto the ground, but it really wasn't worth the effort. So instead he stomped on ahead, though behind Allya, and tried to ignore her endless chatter. It was hard to drown out, but he didn't have to focus on that self-appointed task for too long, as they had arrived. Allya seemed to be the nominated speaker for their rag-tag group, as Alyce was staring at the male elf without trying to hide it too much; or maybe it was just obvious to Fabian. He himself was at the back of the group, standing sideways so he could lean against the doorway without hurting himself any more than he could. He really didn't want to be the one speaking and frankly, he doubted he'd do any good. Nonetheless, he watched the exchange from under the brim of his now slightly ruined (okay, it was going to have to be thrown away) hat and tried to keep quite.

It didn't work.

Allya, for all her quick thinking and surprising courage in battle, looked terrified as she backed away when the mage came closer. The mage himself claimed to be a healer of sorts, and that was good enough for Fabian. "Knight." Was all he said to introduce himself. He so no need to give this male his name, nor did he want to. All he wanted to do was get drunker than he had ever been before. "Heal us and we'll be on our way."

['pyrrhic]

Mira Amara ;; forty + years ;;
rouge dagger wielder / poisons ;; elven female
with;; The Party. ;; xxx ;; xxx

The elven girl looked like she was racking her brain to an extent it hurt, she ran her fingers through her braided hair, and loosened
the braid Mira did tight circles as she did hand movements to guide her thoughts. Though her swift movements would make anyone
more sick than they already were, she didn't care. After a while of circles, she started to turn on her heels, facing the mage, and
then squinting her eyes, biting her lip and clasping her hands together. "I know you from somewhere." It wasn't a whisper either,
she'd straight out said it. The mage was very hard to miss with her, and her observant nature had carried since she was at lest two,
and the thirty eight years of memory was so hard to compete with to just remember one.. Maybe significant elven man. Did she
get him onto a smuggler's wagon? Did she fight with him at some point? The ideas just screwed her up more. She still thought.

As 'Allya' started a scene, that was clearly see through, she rolled her eyes. Still little Mira racked her brain as if her life depended
on it, and perhaps it did. She doubted it highly though. Mira shifted her holsters for her daggers across her chest, and tucked her
hair behind her ear. "They need the help," Mira smirked and stated the obvious that they all dodged, all but Fabian, figures as much.
she would laugh if they weren't in such a bad condition, but now that option was straight up rude, she wasn't rude, just sarcastic and
quiet spunky. Mira still thought, she still looked at him like gears were turning in that small head of hers.

"Rude." Mira mumbled at Fabian's response. It was like demanding cake at someone else's birthday party. But she probably shared
his thoughts on alcohol, she'd drink with him, she needed it. But at some point they'd all have to calm down and trust this mage,
the one she couldn't think of from her past, it'd kill her much more than she'd enjoy. Mira dug her nails into her palm as she thought.
"It's gonna kill me, It's gonna kill me." She threw her hands in the air, and sighed deeply, his appearance was so familiar, and yet she
couldn't think of where she'd seen him.

[Wolvine]

█

Ｉｌｉａｎ  Ｄｅｒｅｉ

█

█

Ｅｌｖｅｎ  Ｍａｇｅ

█

█ 

Ｗｉｔｈ：  ｔｈｅ Ｐａｒｔｙ

█

This group seemed to be uneasy, both with him and with each other. Ilian grew more and more confident by the second that they weren't going to try and take him away. They weren't working well enough, they were too uncertain. That was good, more than good. He shuffled, a little awkwardly, running his hands through the fringe of his hair as was his nervous habit. The female elf, who introduced herself as Allya, appeared to be working as the group's (apparently reluctant, if the hesitant tone was anything to go by) spokesperson.

She confirmed what he already knew; this group was in a bit of a sorry state. The small elf girl, who perhaps was older than she looked at first glance, also further stated that there were hurt. She was squinting at him, as if trying to place him. He was surprised; his appearance drew looks like bees to honey in Alondra. It shouldn't be hard to remember who he was. She certainly didn't seem familiar to him. The man, who in truth had intimidated him more than the rest put together, grunted the word Knight. An introduction of sorts, as well as a stating of rank. His curt instructions did him no credit, and perhaps his rudeness was a little foolish, but Ilian chose not to hold it against him; clearly he was a man under duress.

"Ah, you've travelled some distance then," he commented, trying to make conversation. Daemarel had no royalty. The closest there was to nobility was Lady Boyle, and she didn't even live in the town itself. Wyvernmere, the closest large city this side of the Narivi, had knights. Aelhaven, capitol of the neighbouring county, did as well. Either way, both were many days travel.

He gestured for the group to follow him, and then went over to pick up his staff. He'd rather not perform magic in front of the stable door, where any passer-by could stop and gawk. The small human girl, who apparently had decided that her injuries were more urgent, plopped herself rather ungraciously onto his bed. He chose not to comment.

"Hey, I've got this thing where I can't walk upright without making my chest feel like its on fire. Fix it would you?" The mage tilted his head and crouched next to her. She was watching him very closely, her glib manner at odds with the nervous tick to her eyes, the way her breath came and went just that little bit faster when he got near. A fear of magic most likely; a common reaction in his patients.

"Could you take off your armour for me?" he asked, ignoring her suggestive grin and 'at least buy me dinner first!' comment. "Very original. I've never heard that one before. You've probably got some broken ribs, and I can't fix that if there's leather in the way." Cowed, at least for the moment, the human slipped off her armour, though the way she clenched her teeth suggested it was more painful to do so than she'd like to let on. He pressed a hand against her ribs, and focused. He wasn't a miracle worker; internal injuries weren't as easily fixed as an open wound, but he could alleviate some of the pain and aid the healing process.

The surprised little intake of breath suggested it had worked. "You'll need to keep bandaged for now. If you're still in town come back and see me tomorrow. That cut on your forehead is also getting infected." The human blinked at him dumbly, clearly not totally certain. Oh well. He stood, wiping the straw off his cloak. "And you Ser Knight? Your shoulder seems to be troubling you a little."

[Keriae]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
ＦＡＢＩＡＮ ＳＨＡＲＰＥ
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
❛''''ＡＮＤ Ｉ＇Ｍ ＮＯＴ ＢＡＣＫＩＮＧ ＤＯＷＮ
I WILL STAND MY GROUND! I WILL STAND MY GROUND!
⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯ ⋯

★x
★
★

ＢＥＣＡＵＳＥ
ａ ｃｈａｍｐｉｏｎ ｉｓ
WHAT THEY CALL ME NOW!

★
★
★

xxxxxxxage: twenty seven
xxxxxxxclass: warrior-knight
xxxxxxxtagged: party

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The healing got under way, thank God, and Alyce was quick to make sure she was the first to be treated, all but running in her haste. Well, not really running, as she had been finding it hard to walk, hunched over and clearly in pain, but clearly she had had her fill of constant pain every time she put her foot down and was keen to get it gone. Apparently her injury couldn't have been bothering her that much, because she was still full of her (very annoying) wit, quipping words without a beat when she was asked to remove her armour. Another reason Fabian was grateful he hadn't clad himself in armour, because it hadn't really helped Alyce at all and he didn't have to worry about taking it off in order to get treated successfully. It did mean, though, that he had to remove his heavy coat. It was made of leather, though not nearly as good at protecting him as boiled armour, but it did its job. As the mage said, it would have to be removed or being treated would be harder.

So when Alyce was healed as much as she could be with broken ribs and had received the order to come back a day later, it was Fabian's turn. He wasn't exactly thrilled about having to take his coat off, but he slowly shrugged out of it, being very, very careful for someone who normally wasn't while getting out of his clothes. The man also snorted at the comment. Troubling him a little? One could say that, though Fabian would prefer something more colourful and, well, rude. But he'd control himself for now - he wanted to get healed, not get on the healer's bad side. Who knew what he could do with the magic he possessed? No, better to edge on the safe side of caution. Dropping the coat on the floor - it was so dirty it hardly mattered - Fabian was left in his loose, baggy and absolutely filthy shirt while he took Alyce's place and pulled at the collar so his skin was on display. It wasn't a pretty sight in the slightest, a mixture of green and yellow bruising, edged with purple that painted the entire span of his shoulder and descended down his bicep and chest. Not pleasant to look at, and definitely not pleasant to live with. "Dislocated. Allya put it back in place." He wasn't sure if it had gone well, really, and whether he should have his arm in a sling until it healed, but the shoulder joint was back in the socket, so it was only the muscle that mattered, right?

Then there was the problem of the concussion. Fabian was pretty sure there was an impressive lump on the back of his head, and while the short term amnesia had disappeared, if he moved his head too quick he got terribly faint and at the end of the day he was so fatigued he almost dropped like a stone into sleep. And then there were the skull-splitting headaches. Speaking of which, he could feel another one coming on. He blamed the elven girl who had joined them for no reason. "Also a concussion." He continued, taking his hat from his head so the elf could check.

[Kitty~.]

a l l y a
role;; rogue archer
race;; elven
tagged;; the party,
Ilian and Mira
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From her spot by the wall, Allya could easily note Fabian's patience growing short. Why it was any shock to her, she wouldn't know. She had met mules less temperamental than the warrior. Alas, she understood his frustrations. The strange woman was doing little to settle the group's collective nerves. Speaking of which, Allya's eyes flickered from the healer to the rogue as she spouted an accusation. Of course, it mattered little whether they had met. Chances were they had simply passed in a market once or twice. Why the dagger-wielder felt it necessary to unsettle the already-tense mage was totally beyond her comprehension.

At Fabian's curt response, she repressed the urge to roll her eyes. Real tactful. Like she should have expected anything else. For someone who'd lived in the forest half of her life, she appeared to have the better etiquette. If that didn't speak volumes for their group, she didn't know what did. Frankly, it scared her a little. What hope did they have if she was their leading liaison? You know what she spoke best with? Arrows. Nothing said 'I don't like you' better than an arrow to the heart. In regards to positive reinforcement? That was certainly not her strongest point, that was for sure. She did hope Alyce would take over for her.

However, it appeared the girl was just as paranoid as she was, if not more. A bad history with magic? Allya didn't know. Her fear was shallow, only extending to the potential magic had. She shared the same suspicion for someone who wielded a sword. It was just common caution - if she wasn't careful, she'd be stupid.

Trailing obediently after the elven man, Allya substantially relaxed. He didn't appear to be endangering them, at least at this current stage. Alyce placed herself on the makeshift examination table - or rather, bed - situated by the wall. Sure to maintain a small distance, Allya observed the exchange with fascination and dry amusement. As scared at the rogue may have previously been, Alyce persisted to jest like she was hanging around with a couple of good friends. A short breath rushed through her nose at Alyce's playful comment and the reply the healer swiftly returned. She didn't know whether to be embarrassed on her companion's behalf or humoured. Probably a combination of both.

It was amazing how swiftly the healer worked his magic (literally). A process that may have taken weeks had now been sufficiently quickened after just a moment of magic. Allya didn't care how good a surgeon you were, healers did wonders that they simply couldn't manage. Before she had expected, the deed had been done. Alyce was on the road to recovery and soon, Fabian would be too. Would they stay in town for another day or leave as soon as possible? Previously, Allya had been entirely tempted to sneak away, back to Narivi (or...maybe not considering that bear...), but it looked as though things would be a little more difficult than originally planned. Internally, she cursed. This wouldn't have happened had she left them to die in the forest, and that wouldn't have happened had she left them and their goods alone, successfully wandering in the opposite direction. But no, she had to be greedy. She wanted the supplies of that horse and in her haste, had gotten caught. Now, she was there, contemplating venturing with them! It was absurd, surely. What a stupid idea.

Next, it was Fabian's turn. Allya absently watched as he shrugged off his jacket and replaced Alyce's previous position. A man of many, many words, he curtly explained the injuries exhibited. She only hoped she hadn't somehow screwed up relocating his shoulder. One word like that from the mage and she had no doubt she would be at the pointy end of Fabian's deadly sword again, trying to explain that no, she hadn't done that on purpose. She huffed quietly. Going to this pub was looking less and less appealing the more the day drew on.

[Wolvine]

█

Ａｌｙｃｅ  Ｔｏｂｉａｓ  Ｖａｕｘ

█

█

Ｈｕｍａｎ  Ｓｐｙ

█

█ 

Ｗｉｔｈ：  ｔｈｅ  Ｐａｒｔｙ

█

The relief was almost instant. Alyce pressed her fingers experimentally against her ribs, delighting in the way they didn't burn against her skin. Certainly, they were still uncomfortable, but she could sit up straight now. Sheepishly, she rose to her feet and began to collect her discarded armour, slipping the pieces back onto place. She'd never been healed by magic before. She could hardly afford to pay for traditional herbs and poultices, never mind the exorbitant prices required to hire a mage. It was strange. She hadn't felt a thing, but at the same time, she'd felt the hum of energy against her skin. Perhaps that thrum was just her imagination. Still, it had worked. She wasn't complaining.

She slouched off to the side, her eyes scanning the stable for any clues as to who exactly this elf was. A cloth sack (faded, torn in places, smatterings of mud and stains of clay from colours not found near these parts, he'd come from far away) lay against a wall near the pile of hay that was clearly serving as his bed. A few herbs were stored in a manner as careful as one could in a corner. He'd been here a while then, but obviously wasn't planning on staying. Everything he owned would be in that bag. Interesting. He'd know things then. It might be worth questioning him tomorrow before they left. See if there was anything he knew that Allya didn't. The more information they could get about the area the better.

She turned her head when Fabian spoke, an uneasy smirk settling across her face as she watched him get closer. Her heart was beating quicker again as the elf crouched next to the warrior, which was ridiculous. The mage clearly had no intention of hurting them. He was probably on the run from the templars, and setting them on fire wasn't the best way to keep a low profile. The white cloak (perfectly clean, how could that be, everything else was stained with filth, how was it so clean?) fell over his shoulder, obscuring her vision somewhat. She moved to get a better look. The man rested one of his hands on Fabian's shoulder for a few seconds, waving the other in front of his face. Trying to check his reaction time, maybe? Miraculously, much of the ugly bruising on Fabian's arm seemed to recede, though it was hard to tell how much from here. It may just have been her.

"I'm assuming this happened a couple of days ago? If that's the case, then the concussion shouldn't be too big of a problem. If you're willing to wait until tomorrow morning, I can perhaps find something to help, but I'm running somewhat low at the moment. You and your friends seem to be exhausted more than anything. You need rest more than herbs or even magic. Your shoulder was set well enough, just some muscle pain remaining. I should have taken the edge off of the pain, but you'll need to make sure you don't strain it over the next few days. Wouldn't want it to pop back out." The elf moved away, offering the other two a somewhat hesitant nod before moving past them and pulling out a bandage from somewhere, which he offered to her. After she accepted his gift, careful not to touch his (tattooed, lines across his wrists the same colour as those on his face, marking him, as a mage or as an elf?) hands, he wandered back over to the centre of the stable and offered them a small smile. He was shuffling nervously, clearly wanting them to leave, but unsure how to go about it.

"So. You run a cheap service then?" He was making no moves to charge them. She'd be lying if she said she was completely surprised: if he was being paid a fraction of the coin healers made, he wouldn't be living in a stable. Still, it was strange to find someone who genuinely had no ulterior motive. His eyes (they moved as if he could see, but they were pale, too pale, and he kept putting his face close to things as if he could hardly make them out) widened a little, apparently surprised at having the matter addressed.

"Ah, I do. Many good people cannot afford the attention they require, even more now with the spread of the plague. It only seems right to try and help." His gaze flicked to the corner, fear sparking into those pallid eyes. Hiding something, but nothing serious she imagined, most likely nothing more than bad dreams being poorly hidden. She'd say he was as easy to read as a book, but she of course, could never make sense of those tiny scrawled markings. His face gave everything away in a way letters never did. "I cannot in good conscience charge you. If you are of a charitable disposition however, there is a favour I would greatly appreciate you doing for me." Alyce quirked an eyebrow, nodding her encouragement. Even if they didn't help him, it was good to know what he needed. "I've heard that a templar is in town. I cannot easily go and investigate myself of course, but if you hear word tonight, I would be thankful if you could pass it on to me. A lot of people rely on me to stay alive, and I cannot help them if I am locked up in a barracks somewhere."

Simple enough. She'd leave it up to Fabian's discretion. They'd most likely stay in Daemarel for tonight if not longer. They'd be bound to hear something. She shrugged and muttered her thanks before turning and exiting the stable, much to the stranger's obvious relief. The sun was just beginning its decent. If they wanted to go back into town and get drunk before the moon rose, they'd have to leave now. Hopefully the ale would be better than the Unicorn's urine-smelling brew.

[Keriae]

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I WILL STAND MY GROUND! I WILL STAND MY GROUND!
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WHAT THEY CALL ME NOW!

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xxxxxxxage: twenty seven
xxxxxxxclass: warrior-knight
xxxxxxxtagged: party

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The good news was that his concussion was nothing to worry about. The bad news was that, despite all appearances and how some mages claimed they were able to heal anything, this mage was not among that number. Fabian was happy enough to have his shoulder healed - and who wouldn't be? - but he had been hoping that it would be totally healed, not partially. He'd still have to make sure that he wasn't too rough (which meant no bar fights that night) and there would still be some pain, but he had really been hoping that it would be back to normal. Instead, he'd have to stay on the safe side of caution. Better than nothing, I suppose. At least the edge had been taken away and he felt he could walk easier without worry.

Fabian supposed he'd be coming back in the morning, if not for his concussion, but for a hangover, and he had a feeling that Alyce at the least would be with him. The healing was well worth it for listening out for templars - they'd kept hold of their coin and been healed as good as was possible. He wasn't normally a good man, a man that helped out others, but this would hardly be trying: if templars were in town, everyone would be talking about it. "We'll keep an eye out." Was all he said, which would surely be a shock to everyone in the vicinity. Frankly, Fabian was keen to get on his way and get as drunk as he could.

A nod of thanks and his coat pulled on much easier than it had been removed later, Fabian held his hat in his hand and followed lyce on her way out. He needed a good, long drink of the strongest ale he could find. After the Narivi, they deserved one night to themselves, without danger. And they still needed to think about telling Allya what they were actually doing - she'd nearly died for them. And that was the path Fabian's mind was on as he caught up to Alyce and leaned close to her ear. "What do you think about telling Allya?" This needed to be clear before they were all under a table rather than sat at it.