Guilds and Motleys, Aislings and Mundanes: Temuair is interlocked


"So your finally awake" a familiar voice came from near him.
"M… Master?" Sabyn asked between his gasps for breath. "H-how… how…?" Unable to form complete sentences in his dizzy state of confusion, Sabyn could only stutter. He remembered everything from the sword nearly missing him as he woke up to the burning library to him laying down with the rest of the bodies, but from there it was blank. He had no clue what had happened, and now seeing his master in front of him alive added to his bewildered state. "Am… am I dead?"

"No no my boy, your fine, almost fully recovered in fact. You're quite a quick healer, you did exceptionally well for having no actual combat experience, you've learned well." Master T'Gar gave him a quick smile. "It seems the T'Forgde didn't want supper, they wanted us dead. I know the question in your head, how come I'm not dead, after the T'Forgde arrived I went out to pick some herbs. When I got back the monastery was painted red. And that's where I found you, unconscious in your own blood. Didn't think you'd make it."

Sabyn could only sit there. Wet all over from the sweat of his panic. He couldn't get his dream out of his mind. He was still in his blood stained clothes. And even though they were now dry, the smell attracted a large number of flies that buzzed around his head. He looked around, they were just behind the monastery, in the small herb garden out back where they grew herbs they couldn't find around these parts. Slowly he started to slide off the rock he was laid on, when let out a yell of pain and toppled to the ground clutching his leg. The nightmare of what happened seemed like a dream, but his pain was real. The arrow had gone deep, and though the wound was starting to heal, it still had a ways to go, and the lack of use just made his leg hurt more.

"You know, more people in your condition wouldn't have been able to make it. They had special tips on those arrows to do as much damage as an arrow possibly could!" T'Gar held up the arrow so Sabyn could take a look. The head was made of a silvery metal, though he wasn't sure what type, and riddled with small extra hooks and blades, but even though it looked demonic, it was still smooth and very aerodynamic. Even the shaft had a few spikes near the tip. Most of the blood had been scraped off it, but there were still some dark brownish spots along the tanned shaft. "But anyway, now that you're up, you should go wash yourself. One more minute of having to smell you and even the flies will get sick! I brought a tub out of the monastery, it's sitting just back behind this bush in privacy. You hurry and the water might still be a bit warm."

Sabyn chuckled as he walked around the bush. He saw some steam coming off the wooden tub. Quickly he removed the stiff, blood dried clothes from his aching body and climbed into the tub. The water was refreshing, as the crystal clear glint of the surface slowly gained a reddish glow about it. There wasn't much room to move around, and he had to remain standing, but none the less the warmth of the revitalizing water rekindled his vigor as he washed as much as he could. "And when you're done here's a clean garb to throw on." T'Gar yelled from around the bush, tossing the change of clothes over top and striking Sabyn upside the head. The leg of the garb dangled from his head and hit the water.

"You got it wet!" replied Sabyn, taking the garb and hanging it from a sturdy, outreaching branch from the bush well off the ground.

Abel Tavern Tales


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