Day 7 of Fall 515AV
Now that the disaster crews had been disbanded –or at least the obligation to work in them had been lifted- Brandon had once again been restored to his status of jack-of-all-trades, doing one job for a couple days, then moving on to another. This time he had to try his hand at helping at the Infirmary for one or other reason. Apparently the Valintar hadn’t given up yet on finding Bran a “better” job than teaching the yasi martial arts. Brandon himself, on the other hand, did not believe in finding something he’d prefer over his current job. Cook, masseur, and now medic; they all paled in comparison to thieving. Playing scout had been enjoyable though, if not a bit tedious. Bah, at least he’d been out and about, free to climb trees and sneak around wolf packs.
Still, it did lack in the thrill factor. The only time he figured things would get exciting was when the local predators had settled on him for lunch. And while that did score a lot of points on the adrenaline gauge, it couldn’t be called pleasant. Not really. At least the rush he got from it was fulfilling. But once again, it couldn’t compare to thieving. There was a rather simple reason for it too; all those jobs were work, and felt like it, whereas larceny was not, and did not. Quite the contrary in fact. Unfortunately though, this was how his life in Wind Reach was set up. Actually, this was how all lives in Wind Reach were set up. You worked, or you didn’t get to eat. Effective, yes, but so … frustrating.
Nevertheless, Brandon had no real options other than conforming to the system. It had been adapt, or leave, and seeing as Dira was counting on him –but was she really expecting anything from him? His mark seemed to indicate she did- and as such, he couldn’t walk away. There was a responsibility resting on his shoulders now, one he wasn’t too sure about, to be honest. Surely there were people who were a far better choice when it came to dealing with duty and the sort, but Dira had marked him. Perhaps it wasn’t personality the goddess was looking for, but values, and skill. The latter, at least, was something Brandon could offer.
The problem though was that he wasn’t quite sure what exactly the mark could do. There had been no manual accompanying it, nor some instant knowledge like he’d been expecting. Power tended to be quite useless if one had no clue what to do with it. Only a few aspects had been revealed to him so far; living corpses stood out like a sore thumb, and he could sense death. Or were those two things actually just one? Brandon did not know; nor had he any idea what more he could do. However, if this kind of ability was the norm for all the abilities coming from the mark, then the Kelvic guessed Dira’s gift served to amplify his existing skills. An upgrade, if you will. Still, passive in nature or not, without any knowledge of its uses, the mark was just a fancy adornment.
Eventually the bat arrived at the Infirmary, the location he hadn’t even set foot into ever since the start of his stay in the volcanic city. Even when he’d been in rough shape after having survived the deathtrap the Inclement had become, he hadn’t been allowed treatment. The endal and avora have more need for it, they’d said. In the end, Dru had come to check on him, always concerned, always looking out for him. In truth, Brandon’d rather go blow some glass than treat wounds of people he didn’t care about. Of endal he disliked. Ah, well, a job was a job, whether you liked it or not did not really matter.
With a sigh the Kelvic set his body back in motion, entering the rather small space. It appeared to be a waiting area of sorts, an antechamber separated from the rest of the location with a curtain. A dek passed through, looking at the bat with questioning eyes. “I’m supposed to help out here for a couple days,” the thief explained, and the man beckoned him to follow, leading the bat to the next chamber. This was the actual infirmary, it seemed, a square-ish room littered with beds, some occupied. At the far wall some sort of desk was placed, and at it sat a woman, cataloguing whatever salves or other healing items the infirmary was rich. “Ah great timing, Jasse,” she chirped in Nari without turning around, “Can you see If we still have some Comfrey paste left?”
Now that the disaster crews had been disbanded –or at least the obligation to work in them had been lifted- Brandon had once again been restored to his status of jack-of-all-trades, doing one job for a couple days, then moving on to another. This time he had to try his hand at helping at the Infirmary for one or other reason. Apparently the Valintar hadn’t given up yet on finding Bran a “better” job than teaching the yasi martial arts. Brandon himself, on the other hand, did not believe in finding something he’d prefer over his current job. Cook, masseur, and now medic; they all paled in comparison to thieving. Playing scout had been enjoyable though, if not a bit tedious. Bah, at least he’d been out and about, free to climb trees and sneak around wolf packs.
Still, it did lack in the thrill factor. The only time he figured things would get exciting was when the local predators had settled on him for lunch. And while that did score a lot of points on the adrenaline gauge, it couldn’t be called pleasant. Not really. At least the rush he got from it was fulfilling. But once again, it couldn’t compare to thieving. There was a rather simple reason for it too; all those jobs were work, and felt like it, whereas larceny was not, and did not. Quite the contrary in fact. Unfortunately though, this was how his life in Wind Reach was set up. Actually, this was how all lives in Wind Reach were set up. You worked, or you didn’t get to eat. Effective, yes, but so … frustrating.
Nevertheless, Brandon had no real options other than conforming to the system. It had been adapt, or leave, and seeing as Dira was counting on him –but was she really expecting anything from him? His mark seemed to indicate she did- and as such, he couldn’t walk away. There was a responsibility resting on his shoulders now, one he wasn’t too sure about, to be honest. Surely there were people who were a far better choice when it came to dealing with duty and the sort, but Dira had marked him. Perhaps it wasn’t personality the goddess was looking for, but values, and skill. The latter, at least, was something Brandon could offer.
The problem though was that he wasn’t quite sure what exactly the mark could do. There had been no manual accompanying it, nor some instant knowledge like he’d been expecting. Power tended to be quite useless if one had no clue what to do with it. Only a few aspects had been revealed to him so far; living corpses stood out like a sore thumb, and he could sense death. Or were those two things actually just one? Brandon did not know; nor had he any idea what more he could do. However, if this kind of ability was the norm for all the abilities coming from the mark, then the Kelvic guessed Dira’s gift served to amplify his existing skills. An upgrade, if you will. Still, passive in nature or not, without any knowledge of its uses, the mark was just a fancy adornment.
Eventually the bat arrived at the Infirmary, the location he hadn’t even set foot into ever since the start of his stay in the volcanic city. Even when he’d been in rough shape after having survived the deathtrap the Inclement had become, he hadn’t been allowed treatment. The endal and avora have more need for it, they’d said. In the end, Dru had come to check on him, always concerned, always looking out for him. In truth, Brandon’d rather go blow some glass than treat wounds of people he didn’t care about. Of endal he disliked. Ah, well, a job was a job, whether you liked it or not did not really matter.
With a sigh the Kelvic set his body back in motion, entering the rather small space. It appeared to be a waiting area of sorts, an antechamber separated from the rest of the location with a curtain. A dek passed through, looking at the bat with questioning eyes. “I’m supposed to help out here for a couple days,” the thief explained, and the man beckoned him to follow, leading the bat to the next chamber. This was the actual infirmary, it seemed, a square-ish room littered with beds, some occupied. At the far wall some sort of desk was placed, and at it sat a woman, cataloguing whatever salves or other healing items the infirmary was rich. “Ah great timing, Jasse,” she chirped in Nari without turning around, “Can you see If we still have some Comfrey paste left?”
Credit goes to Engghaen
