The Horse and his Drykas [Bolden]

by **Ronan** on November 21st, 2011, 9:24 pm

"Not in the Watch yet," he said slowly, pulling the shirt on, "but I'm training for it."

Ronan knew he'd touched a nerve. It seemed that Bolden didn't want to be associated with his angry father Vanator. He'd cast his Pavilion's name aside, self inflicting himself with the title of outcast.

"Then I won't say it again, Bolden," he replied, "if you help me. And if you stop coddling me."

He turned Tairell around and trotted out into the storm. His eyes widened right away, the storm had caused more damage than he had expected. The nearest camp firstly. A small cluster of tents had been swept aside, pots and pans thrown asunder, and the camp fire gone out. There was a scream coming from the camp too.

Heart pounding, Ronan coaxed Tairell to move forward slowly. Initially she refused, clearly still spooked. But with a quick rub and a soothing voice, he managed to get her to move. As he neared the site, he saw a child caught under some shrapnel.

The Watch Ronan... it will be your job to protect the people of Endrykas.

It was now or never.

by **Bolden Denusk** on November 21st, 2011, 9:51 pm

Bolden watched with satisfaction as Ronan put on the shirt and ignored it immediately after. For all the tough talk, the last thing he needed was Ronan passing out all sissy girl on him from injuries left untended. It was smarter to get the medicine or treatment over with and get on with the job at hand.

"Training for the Watch...that's good. Let's get these people some help now, huh?"

Nightwind charged forward, his adrenaline up and ready for anything. The high shrill wailing of a child could be barely heard over the raging storm.

"Mama! Mamaaa!"

The strider moved toward the sounds swiftly, carrying his rider through the pounding rain. Nightwind reared and shied abruptly at the flapping tent and wind flung debris. Everything was in tatters, with cookware, clothing and the tent itself tearing across what was once a safe family tent.

A little boy was pinned beneath the center beam, his shoulder and arm taking the brunt of the weight. Hysteria edging her voice, a woman sobbed out repeatedly,

"Robby! Baby boy where are you?!"

From the far edge of the tent a large bloody hand peeked out, curled limply around a cooking stone.

OOC :

by **Ronan** on November 21st, 2011, 11:00 pm

Bolden followed, as they approached the screaming. The rain was pelting, harder and harder, stinging Ronan's eyes and slowing Tairell to a halt. And all the while, the wind continued to rage.

"It's alright old girl," he whispered to his Strider, "it's alright."

The scene was shocking. A mother screaming blindly, fallen and trapped. A child caught beneath the beam. Ronan's breath quickened, as he struggled off of Tairell and hobbled into the tent.

He realised how foolish this was - an injured man trying to save others. But he had to try. He had to push through the pain. Sama'el had taught him never to give in, and never to surrender.

"Don't worry," he called, clambering into the ruin. "We're coming for you."

As Bolden came in behind him, he turned to the Drykas breathlessly. "If I try to free the boy, could you go and see to the mother. Between us, we can free them both."

OOC :

by **Bolden Denusk** on November 23rd, 2011, 6:48 pm

OOC :

"Help! Help!" The boy's voice answered the Watcher in training.

Bolden nodded to Ronan, knowing that normal conversation just wasn't possible in the storm's fury.

"It's gonna be alright now! We're here to help you!" Bold yelled out, hoping the family could hear them over the blistering winds.

Simultaneously mother and son called out,

"I want my momma!"
"Save my son!"

Bolden watched Ronan head toward the terrified little boy, while he worked his way toward a tent-swathed figure that writhed against the heavy damask fabric. Damask was already a heavy fabric usually used for rugs or winter tents, but soaking wet, it easily weighed as much as two full grown men.

He managed to get hold of one of the flailing tent flaps and grasped the roped stake at the end of it. Blowing around like that, it could be a deadly weapon. Judging by the blood on the sharp end, it had already damaged someone badly. Hand over hand he clung to the lengthy rope, pulling it hand over fist. The rain suddenly tilted horizontally, slashing at everyone's eyes, strider and human alike. The wind rose to a shriek that almost popped his ears and he squinted to try and see more clearly.

There it was! A woman's slim hand reached up from a mass of tangled and sodden debris. It looked so thoroughly wrapped around her like a sleeping bag and she only had one arm and her head free. A large gash streaked down her cheek, almost in imitation of the lightning that emblazoned itself across the sky. Everything abruptly stood out in stark relief against the backdrop, giving Bolden and Ronan a better look at exactly what was before them.

The mother was messily trussed in rain heavy damask that weighed far more than she did, while her young son's shoulder was pinned by a water swelled, heavy wooden beam.

"I've got an idea!" He attempted to yell above the menacing growl of thunder.
"This stuff is too heavy to lift by hand now that it's wet. I'll tie the stake rope to Nightwind and have him haul it! Check the boy and if you can't lift the beam, get Tairell to help out! We need to move fast-I think the storm is getting worse!"

Bolden back tracked to his nervous strider and tied the thick tent rope to the yvas. This was exactly what the yvas was best designed for! Giving it a final tug, he urged the strider to pull and hoped to the Goddess that the strider could do this.

The stallion practically tucked his chin under his chest, arching his neck downward and made a jumping, heaving motion forward. Slashing rain pelted the dark brown hide, making the straining muscles gleam blackly. His forelegs surged up like he was about to rear and he leaped forward into the chest band, forcing all of his not inconsiderable weight into it. With jerks and bumps, the material dragged along the ground, reluctantly releasing the woman it held prisoner.

The Drykas yelled his triumph and signaled the horse to stop pulling. Nightwind's nose nearly touched the ground and his ribs heaved, his chest lathered white around the breast band.

Bolden sprinted forward, and reached the woman's side. She looked battered by the storm and positively terrified, but nothing looked broken. He helped her sit up and gave her Nightwind's horse blanket to keep her warm.

"It's gonna be just fine ma'am. Ronan over there is a Watchman and he'll save your son; don't you worry." Bold tried to infuse his voice with confidence and authority that all would be well. He fervently hoped he was right about that. He and Ronan would do whatever it took to make that happen.

by **Ronan** on November 24th, 2011, 3:24 pm

Ronan nodded, turning back to the panicked Tairell. No. He'd have to move this beam on his own. The boy underneath was unconscious, but he could see his chest rising and falling shallowly. He was breathing at least.

He rolled the sleeves up on his shirt, breathing quickly but weakly - so as not to enflame the pains in his chest, then crouched with his legs and dragged the beam up. It was a struggle, but not as heavy as he had expected. Groaning, he managed to lift it, and then move it to one side off of the boy.

In the background, Bolden was helping the woman. This boy's mother. She was awake, but not necessarily alert. "Can you hear me?" Ronan asked, carefully turning the boy over. He was injured, it was his arm. The bone was out of place.

Ronan felt woefully out of his depth. He had a basic knowledge of herbs, but that was it. He would have to get the boy to someone who knew what they were doing. The boy slowly awoke, groggily, then began crying in fear.

"Don't worry... I'm going to get you somewhere safe. And look, there's your mother."

by **Bolden Denusk** on November 24th, 2011, 9:48 pm

When Bolden looked back down at the woman, there didn't appear to be any comprehension behind the wide, frightened eyes. The anxious mother shivered in shock beneath the heavy horse rug, mumbling her son's name over and over. He pushed the blanket up further on her shoulders and then ran back to the strider.

The already thick rope swelled further in the rain, compounding it to an even tighter knot after Nightwind had pulled so hard on it. He figured both the woman and child needed to eat a little something as well. Ronan looked pale and definitely in pain. There was too much to do in the raging storm and darkness began to set in, adding yet another problem to the growing stack.

The strider nickered at the young Denusk, needing a bit of comfort. After wrestling with the knot, he gave in and quickly cut it with his sword. Now freed from the dragging weight, Nightwind leaned into Bold. He patted the horse's neck with approval, truly appreciating his willing strength despite the raging storm. A few chimes, reluctantly, was all he could spare for the tolerant horse at the moment.

He got out a few pieces of dried meat and a clean rag. As he walked back to the woman, Nightwind followed, not wanting to be too far from Bold in the storm. Several jagged streaks of lightning ravaged the sky with simultaneous, ear breaking thunder, making everyone jumpy and unsettled. The furious maelstrom blasted harshly at anything and everything, mercilessly whipping the warmth from every living thing it could find.

Bolden wished to the gods for a healer right now, and new it was a ridiculous thing to do. He knelt beside the mother, handing her a large piece of dried meat. With the other hand he spoke and gestured to Ronan to bring the boy over here to his mother. It would be ludicrous to even think of attempting to talk too much in this weather, but he was thankful for the gesturing part of Pavi that helped out.

"Try to eat this now; it will help you. The Watchman is going to bring over your son, okay? Do you understand?"

He didn't mention aloud, the hand he'd seen that now uncovered a very still and pale man. A blue tinge around the man's lips only added to the macabre scene in which part of the tent rope wrapped around the dead man. Bold did his best to keep the woman facing himself, Ronan and the boy.

Bolden looked from the dead man to Ronan and back again, asking a silent question, best not voiced aloud in front of the mother and child.

by **Ronan** on November 24th, 2011, 10:33 pm

The man was dead - it was clear to both of them, and they conveyed the message with their eyes. They couldn't cling to the parted, those still living mattered the most for now. The man would have a proper Drykas burial and become one with the Web. Ronan could rest easily knowing that.

He didn't mean to seem cold and void of caring. He did care. If he let himself, he would be paralysed, crying here for the death of this man. But if he was to join the Watch he could not just sit and stare. He had to take action. Ronan shepherded the boy over to his mother. He was light, but as he awakened, he began to writhe, crying in pain. His arm would be in agony, Ronan thought while biting his bottom lip.

"Have some food," he said, tearing some of Bolden's meat, and moving it to the boy's mouth. He turned to Bolden. "We need someone with medical knowledge. I'm hoping the storm will pass soon... this has to be one of the worst in years."

He sat in such a way so as to block the man from the boy and mother. It was clearly the father, perhaps the Ankal of a Pavilion, lying lifelessly on the floor. He pulled out his pouch of herbs, the small collection he kept from his wilderness forays - forays that were becoming rarer of late.

"I can't fix his arm, but I can alleviate the pain somewhat." He rummaged through the debris, finding a bowl. Tearing the herbs into small pieces, he then held it out to the rain, and awkwardly tried to mix and mash with his hands. It was messy and crude, but it would have to do. The boy chewed the meat through his tears, only finishing half of it. Then Ronan moved the bowl to his mouth, and forced him to drink it. No child would choose to drink such a foul tasting substance - but it would dull the pain somewhat.

by **Bolden Denusk** on November 25th, 2011, 6:27 pm

Bolden, although always quick to help out, hated the helpless feeling of seeing another living thing injured; especially when he couldn't help. Thankfully, Ronan could at least help the boy with the pain.

The woman seemed in a daze until her son was placed by her. Immediately, she raked his hair back with her fingers and murmured soothing endearments as only a mother can. With a gentle but insistent hand she urged little Robby to try and eat more.

Seeing the pair nicely distracted, Bolden moved to the body quickly. The soaked and weighted tent material was still half around him and Bold pulled the rest of it respectfully over the man's face. His mouth turned down at the corners and silently he grieved for the death of a fellow Drykas.

He knew only too well what it was to grieve for the loss of a parent and how much it meant to be part of a family unit. Although Ay'vata wasn't his birth mother, he still mourned her passing. Which only led to the grief of Tamar's passing as well. She and his father Vanator had been renown through Endrykas for their everlasting, almost fairy tale love for one another. Her death was tragic and it was the last thing Bolden wanted to think of right now.

After several chimes, he quietly returned to the trio and offered a clean rag to the mother for the cut on her face. She had some painfully ugly looking bruises but thankfully, didn't appear to have anything more than surface injuries.

He met Ronan's eyes and nodded soberly toward the now fully shrouded figure, but said nothing aloud to alert either mother or child.

Bold watched Ronan make some kind of herbal concoction for the boy, and was more than a little glad for it. They sure as hells didn't know how to set the arm, but at least the Watchman in training could offer some relief for the pain.

Thinking of the boy's broken arm, he wondered for a brief chime why his own foot mysteriously didn't even hurt now after Nightwind stomped on it earlier. He shrugged and dismissed the thought as abruptly as it arrived.

Was it his imagination or did the rain seem just a little less heavy? Was the lightning and thunder a little less frequent? He fervently hoped so because the family desperately needed help. Optimistically, maybe the storm would abate by the time the pain medicine started working on the little boy? A half a bell maybe? Or a full bell at the most.

"I think the storm's starting to let up. What do you think? Is it just wishful on my part? What did you give the boy for pain killers?" Bolden asked, trying to keep Ronan from dwelling too much on the unmentioned dead body. He'd seen the expression of grief on his face and Bold figured talking about something else would maybe, hopefully, help distract him.

by **Ronan** on November 26th, 2011, 11:00 am

Ronan shared in Bolden's solemn thought for a moment. This man had passed, and there was an element of respect needed here. Then he turned back to the boy, and gave him the rest of the herby mush.

"It's just some wild herbs, a few different ones. I learnt a little from my brother and my mother. I'm no healer, just the basics. You mix it up with water, and drink it, but there are other ways of applying them... poultices... soups."

Still crouched, he turned to look out at the storm. He was sure Bolden was right. It was letting up. The rain had dimmed to a soft patter, and the thunder had rolled further away, lightning striking out on the plains rather than in the city. The wind had stopped its relentless howl.

He turned to Bolden again, shaking his head. "The River Flower... it's an Opal Clan establishment, and there are healers there. I think we should try and get the boy there so they can fix up his arm."

A terrible thought struck him. At some point they would have to tell the pair that their father and husband was dead. He wasn't sure he could breaks news like that without shattering a little inside.

by **Bolden Denusk** on November 27th, 2011, 6:47 pm

Like someone had pulled a magical switch, the wind didn't just slacken; it cut off abruptly. A light quiet rain fell steadily, pattering the soaked ground and its shivering inhabitants.

Nightwind gave a sudden overall body shake, splattering dirty rainwater like a huge wet dog. He nickered and stepped closer to Robby, nuzzling the boy's head with his long, tickly whiskers.

Bolden hovered near the mother and child, his mind working as fast as it could. His strider was sound, but Tairell was injured so she shouldn't carry too much extra weight. He and Ronan should get the mother on Nightwind and the lighter boy on the mare.

He nodded to himself at the soundness of his own self formed logic. By rights, most mares had a smoother stride than a typically bulky stallion so it would jar the boy's broken arm less to ride Tairell. On the other hand, the mother would probably like something more substantial to hold onto after such a trauma.

Against his will, his eyes drifted briefly to the man who was once a respected father and husband. Would Ronan tell them? Was he himself supposed to? The chime the Watchman in training mentioned a healer, Bold hoped that maybe he or she could be the bearer of bad news.

An unwanted memory surfaced of an aborted attempt at healing help. The skinny guy had mentioned he was from the Opal clan didn't he? The guy who'd looked at him like a roach that should be crushed underfoot. Bolden mentally flinched, reviewing how each visit to a healer he'd ever had, ended badly every single time. He thanked the gods they weren't visiting the healer's tent for -his- sake.

Would they mangle the boy's arm as a healer had long ago butchered his own leg? Would the boy still have use of his arm after a visit to the Opal clan? Bolden hoped against his own painful experiences and wished the boy well. He should be fine.

Bolden had been some anonymous boy of unknown origin then, with no status or family to insist on decent care. But little Robby had his mother and an obvious Emerald clan affiliation, so he was sure to be treated better. Finally reassured, he voiced his riding arrangements to Ronan.

"How far away is the River Flower? The boy would be light enough for Tairell and she'd have the smoothest stride. Maybe his mother could then ride Nightwind? What do you think?"