Fantasy Lost Glory . [ closed ]

[StarryKnights]

The wolf charging the young girl let out a yelp when Frey’s struck it in the shoulder. It grew bored with the child and stalked toward the naimar, who now had a wolf on either side. The largest wolf continued to writhe and snarl in it’s trap.

Patches looked on in a state of…odd calm. One wolf was contained, the largest of the three. These two smaller ones were less of a threat.
That might’ve been the case, but Frey no longer appeared to have a weapon.

“Frey”, she spoke softly, the black webs crawled along the ground, extending toward the naimar.
They formed a circle around the naimar, a thick withering black line marked a chunk of grass around the man. Frey would likely notice that the grass beneath his feet was rapidly turning brown as the border grew thicker, when one wolf took a step too close the border reacted.

A single spike shot up and through the wolf’s neck, it twitched on the edge of the barrier before going limp and collapsing.
Patches sank down to her knees, panting. It seemed using this much magic was exhausting the girl.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Frey gritted his teeth as his heart raced. One of the wolves leaped at him - but Patchwork created a barrier around him, stabbing one of the beasts. He watched as it fell and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Only one more to deal with now.

But the undead child was tired. Frey looked over to her, only to see her on the ground, breathing hard. He’d never seen her like that before. She didn’t seem to get tired. Using her magic must have exhausted her.

He’d just have to take it from here.

Stepping forward, he pulled his knife out from the creature's corpse in front of him, turning to face the final wolf-like beast. Its fangs glinted in the moonlight and it snarled. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Frey gripped his weapon harder, and lunged forward. The wolf growled and leaped out of the way, leaving Frey swiping his knife at open air. He gritted his teeth. If only he were a better fighter.

The creature stalked around him for a moment before it rushed forward, leaping into the air with jaws agape to attack. Frey met it head on with knife in hand. He plunged the blade hard into its chest and shoved the creature off himself. It whined on the ground for a moment before falling still.

Frey watched the monsters skeptically. They were undead, weren’t they? Would they rise up again or remain still?

 

[StarryKnights]

Knelt on the ground, Patches panted heavily. This was a new feeling, one that was frightening for the girl. Her limbs felt like they were made of lead, her tiny chest heaved as she went through the motions of sucking down air.
The thing making it all the worse was the fact she wasn’t sucking down any air, her lungs did not inflate. She felt like she was passing out... Darkness creeped in on the corners of her vision.

But even so, she watched as Frey took on the last undead wolf, stabbing it as the creature pounced at him. That left all three of the creatures disposed of.
Patches sat back on her knees, sighing.

“I think they are...done”, her gaze shifted to the fallen beasts.
Her webs were dissolving now, some though slithered across the ground to the remains of the wolves. Patches grimaced as a thread wrapped around each wolf.
She let out a pained gasp, her arms wrapped around her shoulders as she doubled over.

It hurt, it felt like liquid fire was moving through the webs and into her. But the longer the burning sensation went on...the clearer things became.
These wolves were not properly undead, they’d been infected.
The realization came with another thought.

This undead disease... Patches could neutralize it. Even now, the darkness eating away at the wolves was fading, leaving behind the partially rotted remains.

 

[PhoenixMire]

With a quiet sigh, Frey wiped off the blade of his knife and tucked it away. He glanced himself over, as if expecting to find something wrong with him, like some kind of infectious rot - but there was nothing. He was totally fine... save for a couple scratches on his arm he hadn’t noticed earlier. His brows furrowed. Would that be cause for concern?

He glanced over to Patchwork, opening his mouth to speak, but stopped and watched in both fascination and a little bit of fear as she continued working her magic. She used her black webs on the beasts again, leaving behind rotting corpses. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“What was that?” he asked, looking at the girl in confusion. The wolves seemed like they might have been under some kind of enchantment. Why had the beasts attacked? And more importantly, had someone sent them, or had this been a chance encounter?

When he felt a stinging pain in his arm, he was reminded of his gash, and he winced slightly. "Patch," he began, taking a step closer to her, "are those things infectious?" He showed her his arm. The fabric of his tunic's sleeve had been torn through, leaving behind jagged gashes from the monsters' claws.

At least he hadn't been bitten. That was the good part about all this, he supposed. Those wolves' teeth had been far more sharp and intimidating than their claws.

 

[StarryKnights]

For a moment Patches didn’t react, her gaze remained directed at the ground as her webs retracted.
What had happened exactly the girl didn’t know, but as the burning sensation faded away, Patches found she felt less…tied than she had before. She slowly looked up at the carcasses before her.

“…I..I think I…absorbed the impurities that had been plaguing them”, she spoke softly as she stood.
She looked to Frey, uncertainty apparent in her eyes.

“I’m not sure how or why I did this…it wasn’t my intention”. She looked back to the wolves, frowning.
“These creatures were not dead…not really. This…plague did this to them”.

It was like what she’d felt back at that village. “I suspect something similar might’ve happened in that town we were in”. She looked to the naimar.
“I propose we put some distance between us and these creatures. I do not wish to find what infected them in the first place”.

Patches seemed to be back to her usual self. Soft spoken, robotic with a hint of curiosity about her. She scanned the area as if to make sure there were no other threats at hand, thankfully it seemed these wolves had been alone.

It did beg the question, what had happened to these creatures? What had happened to the town, and why had Patches been able to absorb and neutralize the potent magic? The girl had no answers for any of these questions, but she did have a sinking feeling that the answer would be coming to find her, whether she liked it or not.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Frey looked at her with brows slightly furrowed in concern. She’d mentioned some kind of plague... which was most decidedly not a good sign. He pressed his lips into a thin line and showed her his arm with the jagged gashes he’d received from the wolf’s claws.

“So if it’s a plague, does that mean I’m infected?” He hesitated. “You said you somehow sucked the impurities out of those things. Could you do the same for me?”

Blood slowly trickled down the pale skin of his arm. It actually didn’t hurt that much; just the same way a regular cut would hurt. There was no way to tell if it was infected or if he’d caught some kind of gross undead sickness.

If it was infected, what would he do? He’d run out of supplies. He didn’t have water to clean the wound or anything to bandage it up with. He bit his lip. At this rate, they would need to hurry to the town as quickly as possible. He had initially planned on sleeping here for the night then making his way to the village in the morning, but the beasts’ attack had changed that plan. Frey really needed supplies.

 

[StarryKnights]

Patches looked to the scratches on Frey’s arm. They appeared to be benign enough, they bled as they should and lacked the disturbing black ooze that had been plaguing the wolves.

“I am not a doctor, so I am not the best for discerning infection…”, she reached for the naimar’s arm hesitantly, stopping just short as her fingertips neared his flesh. She frowned.

“I do not sense…the…magic within that sickness, I do not think you are infected”. She looked up to them.

“But you ought to rinse the wound regardless, with holy water if you have it”.

She blinked and looked back down to the ground.

“…I do not know why holy water specifically but…instinct tells me it would kill any remnants of infection that may linger”.

Odds were Frey didn’t possess such supplies now, she knew he was running low as it was. They would have to journey into town t acquire some, and that was assuming they could locate a priest or cleric to make some for them.

 

[PhoenixMire]

“Holy water?” Frey’s brows furrowed. He almost never had holy water on him. In fact, he’d only ever had it once. A few years ago, he’d heard tell of terrifying creatures that could only be defeated with holy water, so he’d stocked up on it - only to never come across those creatures. After carrying the holy water around with him for far too long, he’d eventually given up and sold it off.

To think he might have had a use for it if only he’d kept it!

With a sigh, Frey clasped his bleeding arm and looked up toward the peak of the nearest hill. “Looks like we’ll need to head back to that village again, then,” he said reluctantly.

He began his climb up the hill, eyes staring forward but distant. His mind wandered back and forth between the recent attack, and what to do when he reached the small town.

Would anyone be awake at this hour to sell him supplies? Definitely not... he’d have to sleep for the night and wake up early so that he could purchase everything he needed. Did he even have enough money to buy necessities? He was sure he had enough to at least buy some new food and drink - which was all he’d planned for - but now he probably had to buy holy water, since he doubted a priest would give it to him for free...

And, of course, he still needed to find a place to rest for the night, and a place to bathe. He felt disgusting after trekking through the marsh. His lips pressed into a narrow line. So much to do and not enough money, or time! At this rate, how long would it take him to reach Mirran?

He rose to the top of the hill and looked into the distance; there were only a few more hills in his way before the terrain evened out and led to the village. With a small frown, he continued his journey down one hill and up another.

 

[StarryKnights]

It seemed they were going to be heading back to that tiny town they’d stayed at originally. It would be nice to get out of the wilderness. There was no way of knowing if there were more infected creatures out there, stalking them through the tall grass.

She followed the naimar up the hill, pondering if they should warn the townspeople of the potential danger. Patches didn’t know what would happen if a human were infected by this plague. But telling people might cause a panic, which would be troublesome in and of itself.

She frowned.

“Frey, should we warn the people about this sickness…?”, she looked to the man questioningly. At the top of the hill one could see for miles around, the space was full of rolling hills and tall grass. She could just see the village past the hills, they were getting close.

She couldn’t see any lights on, not surprising given how late it was. She wondered if they’d be able to find a room at this hour, or if Frey would be able to find the supplies that he needed.

She felt an odd pang as she thought of these things, how she couldn’t help him acquire the supplies he might need.

Not to mention he’d been scratched and potentially exposed to sickness because of her. It was an odd sensation, one Patches didn’t particularly like.

 

[PhoenixMire]

"Warn them?" Frey looked at her, then back to the village in the distance. He didn't want to cause a panic... and he didn't particularly care about the people in that village, in all honesty. "I don't know. We'll figure that out when we get there." Right now they had more pressing matters, such as the fact that he was injured and apparently needed holy water as soon as possible.

As he walked, he found himself thinking back on the fight, and how Patchwork had protected him. Was she really so dangerous? She seemed like an innocent child - at least, as innocent as an undead kid could be. She'd meant him no harm from the moment they'd met.

He still kept telling himself that she could be hiding her true motives. Maybe she was trying to lead him somewhere and kill him then. But how would that make any sense? She wasn't trying to lead him anywhere; he was the one who wanted to take her north, and she hadn't protested. Unless she actually did want to head north and just wasn't telling him.

Frey sighed. He was overthinking things, he knew. He brushed the thoughts aside and decided to ponder on what to do with Patchwork later. Maybe he'd manage to make an actual decision as soon as they reached Mirran.

It didn't take too long to enter the village, but there wasn't a single light burning in any of the windows. Frey grunted in annoyance. Of course he knew nobody would be awake at this hour, but that didn't lessen his irritation.

"Let's just set up camp and sleep on the outskirts of town," he said, not at all wanting to pay for an uncomfortable room in that ramshackle inn. It would be a waste of his precious money. He didn't have too much at the moment, since he hadn't found any decent jobs lately.

Resigning himself to sleeping on the grass again, he tore off the sleeve of his tunic (since it was done for, anyway - that beast's scratch had torn it terribly) and used it as a makeshift bandage for his small wound. Then he set about preparing a place to sleep for the night, and bundled himself under his blankets.

 

[StarryKnights]

It didn’t seem like Frey wished to warn the town, most likely to avoid a potential panic.

“Alright, though I feel the people may need to know of the potential threat looming outside the town”. Patches had no loyalty toward this town or it’s people, but she found the idea of them coming to harm distasteful. She felt something at the core of her being which dictated she ought to try and minimize the danger to the public.

She knew not where the instinct came from, but she didn’t question it. Such impulses and instincts were all the girl had to guide her after all. As the pair walked, she thought back on the wolves, their twisted forms and grotesque illness. She pitied the creatures for falling to such a deprived state.

She didn’t want to see anything else suffer such a fate, least of all Frey. She suspected the naimar was somewhat wary of her, rightfully so given her undead status, but despite that he was kind to her.

Patches didn’t have a lot of social interaction under belt, she the few people she’d encountered before Frey hadn’t been nearly as kind. Many had run in terror, and one group of bandits had attempted to capture and sell her.

Frey displayed no such motivations, and he’d even fought to protect her. The idea of the naimar being injured made the young girl feel an odd mix of sadness and dread. She was following his lead now, if something happened to him Patches didn’t know what she’d do. She was overthinking things, but Patches found she couldn’t stop.

These thoughts swirled through her mind as they walked, soon enough they reached the tiny town and found it asleep. This wasn’t surprising given the hour, but Frey was less than pleased about it. Grumbling about wanting to make camp on the outskirts of town the naimar treated his injury with a scrap from his shirt before laying down in his nest of blankets.

Patches sat nearby, wide awake and watching for any signs of danger. The town was quiet, and she sensed no presences nearby. Standing, she dusted her knees and started walking. She couldn’t bring herself to sit still tonight, the encounter with the wolves had left her feeling restless.

Frey had been scratched, Patches didn’t think he had contracted the plague afflicting the wolves but wanted to be sure. She wandered back into the sleeping town under the cover of night, searching for a place that might have holy water. It didn’t take long for her to find a small church, though she had no idea who it represented.

There was a small statue outside the simple one-story building, depicting a female figure with long flowing hair… It seemed familiar, but Patches paid it little mind. Though the door was locked, a window was open, and low enough to the ground that Patches could climb through it. She touched down on a cool wooden floor and looked around. There were some pews lining an aisle, at the far end of which there was an altar, likely where a priest, cleric or some other servant to the god would preach. It was small and humble, but Patches felt there was a presence here.

And it didn’t like her, as she walked around, she felt as if the air was pressing down on her shoulders, as if it were trying to stamp her out. An undead being in a holy place, perhaps this had been a bad idea…

Steadying her nerves Patches moved forward, she’d come here to find some holy water and she wasn’t leaving without it.

She didn’t see any bottles or fountains, so she walked down the aisle toward the podium. Each step she took only made the pressure she felt worsen, but she refused to turn back now. Finally reaching the damn thing she looked behind it and found several small tins of water. Likely used by worshipers to cleanse themselves, this was what she was looking for. She carefully grabbed one container, careful not to spill as she walked back towards the open window. She was thankful there didn’t appear to be any guards, being caught stealing from a church wouldn’t go over well for the girl.

As she set the container up on the windowsill to make her escape, it spilled a little, splashing on her fingers. She nearly dropped the container as the burning sensation scorched her nerves and caused her to yelp. The smell of burning flesh hit her nose, she clambered up and out of the window, carefully she grabbed the tin with her unburned hand and scampered back to the camp.

Once there she found Frey still asleep, she set the tin down by his pack before retreating to her post. Under the dim light of the stars she examined her injured hand. It still smarted as she poked and prodded at the singed flesh. The skin on the palm of her right hand had been burned off, revealing the blackened flesh beneath. The white ivory tips of her finger bones glinted softly in the light.

She blinked. “Oh…I suppose I’ll need a new hand now”.

 

[PhoenixMire]

After bundling himself up in his blankets, Frey found himself growing very tired, despite his wound and his worried thoughts concerning the wolves that had attacked him. Where had they come from? Why had they attacked him? These thoughts were tiring, and his eyes slowly drifted shut as sleep enveloped him.

He slept somewhat fitfully. He drifted in and out of vague nightmares and kept tossing and turning in his sleep. Eventually, when the light of dawn barely began to peek its gray fingers over the horizon, Frey blearily awoke. He looked into the distance with blurry, groggy eyes and frowned deeply. It was too early to be up! He wished he could go back to sleep, but even though he was tired, he didn’t think he’d be able to.

He rolled over onto his other side and found Patchwork there. Something seemed... off, somehow; something that his tired mind couldn’t seem to figure out right away.

Then he realized her hand was terribly wounded. Eyes widening, he sat up, staring at flesh that was singed so badly it revealed the bone underneath.

“What happened?” he asked, worry lacing his tone. It was only then that he noticed the water, too. He stared down at it, uncomprehending, wondering what it was or where it had come from and why Patchwork was injured. His mind was still too foggy with sleep to remember their conversation about holy water the night before, so he didn’t make the connection.

“Your hand looks... well, uncomfortable, to put it mildly.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re undead; can’t you just regenerate or something?”

 

[StarryKnights]

Engrossed with her mutilated hand, Patches didn’t notice as Frey began to stir. She wiggled each of her fingers, watching as the singed flesh moved, it was stretched thin over the bones, in some places it was entirely loose and hung off like a patch on a coat.

She blinked, perhaps that was where her name of Patchwork had come from. She was going to have to fix this somehow, by either patching the burned area or finding a new limb, the first solution sounded simpler to the undead girl.
Her attention shifted upward as Frey sat up, his eyes were wide with confusion and worry.
“I burned myself with the water”, she motioned to the tin laying beside the naimar.

“Please, use it to clean your injury. The fact that it did this is proof that it is blessed. It should neutralize any trace of the plague that might’ve been left by the wolf’s claws”.
Her eyes shifted back to her hand, a frown cane to her small face.

“It does not appear that I can…recover from this injury under normal means. In the past cuts and scrapes were sewed back together…but in this case”, she held the hand up to the light.

“The skin has been melted off, and the bone beneath weakened, I’ll require a patch or a new limb, the fresher the better”.
She looked back to Frey. “Until I can find a way to repair myself I’ll cover ths hand with something. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable”.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Frey's mouth twisted into something of a disgusted frown as he studied her singed flesh. When she mentioned the water, however, his expression vanished, replaced by surprise. He blinked, turning to focus on the tin of water that he hadn't noticed before. She'd gone off and gotten holy water for him? All at the cost of burning her hand?

For a moment, he felt a twinge of guilt for planning on selling her off. Despite her strange exterior and lack of expressiveness, she seemed kind - kinder than him, certainly. She was the one who wanted to warn the village of the undead wolves, while Frey, on the other hand, didn't care nearly enough about these people to bother helping them. And then she'd gone and hurt herself just to help him?

He looked away, pressing his lips into a thin line. No... it wasn't a good idea to trust her so quickly. He'd been hurt by trusting people in the past.

"Thanks, Patch, I appreciate it," he said, his tone and his words genuine in spite of the conflict within him. He carefully used the holy water to clean the dried blood from around his wound, refusing to look at the little girl. He'd been torn about selling her for this entire journey, but his feelings of confusion were just getting worse. Should he trust her? Or was she actually dangerous? Would it be a good idea to sell her to the Temple of the Fallen...? If he was being honest with himself, that woman he'd met in the marsh - the one from the Temple - had seemed a lot sketchier than Patchwork.

He sighed as he bandaged up his freshly-cleaned wound. "Here, wear my hood again," he offered, fishing through his satchel and producing the garment to give to her. "We're heading into the village now; as you know, people won't be too happy to see an undead kid wandering around. Especially not with your hand..." He hesitated, looking at her injury and reaching a hand up to his face to idly scratch at his cheek.

"Anyway, we have things to do before we set off north. Put that on and follow me." He got to his feet, yawning widely, rolling his shoulders, and cracking his stiff neck. Then he set off into the village.

As he crossed the outskirts and ventured into the little town, he found that the streets were somewhat busy in spite of the early hour. Many people shot Frey curious or suspicious glances; such a small community out in the middle of nowhere probably wasn't used to getting visitors. He scanned the buildings lining the streets, wondering where he could find some necessities for his travels.

 

[StarryKnights]

Patches cocked her head to the side, a small frown on her face. She’d never been thanked for anything before, somehow this notion filled her with a feeling of…sadness.

Was she supposed to be thanked for preforming what ought to be a common action? She didn’t know for certain, but she didn’t wish to spurn Frey’s gesture.

“…You are welcome”, she replied after a moment, the frown slowly turning into what could almost be described as a smile. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards a couple of times, but never quite curled into a full-on smile.

The holy water would neutralize any linger maladies residing in Frey’s injury, the odds of him growing ill just went down dramatically.

This was good news for both parties, she accepted his hood and pulled it over her head as he wrapped his injury up.

It was still far too large and dragged on the ground. Patches bundled up the overflow fabric and held it with her injured hand, obscuring the mangled flesh and bones left behind by her contact with holy water.

This left her with one hand free. She followed the naimar as he headed into town, the pair got several confused and cautious looks. A pair of outsiders stuck out like a sore thumb in a place like this. Patches was on high alert, wary for any trace that someone might recognize her from her little break in at the church.

She didn’t hear any news on the matter, odds are the one container of holy water wasn’t missed. She scanned the shops, wondering where they ought to go to fetch some supplies. She tugged on Frey’s sleeve and pointed to a single-story building, with a faded sign that read

Traveler’s Wares.

“How about we try there?”.

 

[PhoenixMire]

She’d almost seemed to smile. That surprised Frey - he hadn’t seen an expression like that on her face. Even if it was a tiny and barely noticeable smile, he found himself smiling back.

As they ventured into the village, he looked around at all the strangers giving him suspicious glances, and wondered if he really should try to warn them of the undead wolves. It just seemed like too much of a pain; he didn’t want to go out of his way like that.

When Patchwork tugged on his sleeve, he felt a strange stab at his heart - a bit of guilt, perhaps. She was just a child... yet he distrusted her so much.

He sighed, getting tired of the conflict within his mind, not knowing whether or not he should trust her and not being able to decide if he should sell her off. Trying to shrug the thoughts away, he opened the door and stepped into the place labeled Traveler’s Wares.

It was a small and humble building. The floors were packed dirt and uneven shelves lined the wooden walls. From another room, a man came out, looking at his potential customers with a smile. “Welcome, welcome! What do you need?”

Frey smiled back. “Morning, good sir. I might need a larger bag for carrying provisions, if you’ve got one.” He paused, eyes drifting to the side as he thought. “A tarp for nighttime, I lost my old one. Maybe some new clothes... depending on how expensive they are; I’m on a budget, you see.”

The man laughed. “Yes, I see. Would these satisfy you?”

After leading his customer around the small shop and showing him various wares, Frey settled on a much bigger bag, a nice tarp, a new cloak, and another tunic and pair of trousers, and some bandages for future emergencies. He ended up haggling a bit - he still needed money to buy food and water, after all - but the shop owner seemed nice enough and gave him the items for a discounted price.

Frey thanked him and left. He stuffed his recently-purchased items, along with his old satchel, into his new bag. “Well,” he said to Patchwork, “all I need now is some food.”

 

[StarryKnights]

It seemed her suggestion had been helpful, because Frey headed inside the shop. It was small building, but the shelves were packed with all matters of supplies. Patches scanned the shelves, silently evaluating each item’s usefulness to their journey.

There were things like writing utensils, ink well, quills and rolls of parchment paper.

Unnecessary, we have a map and Frey hasn’t expressed interest in writing to people.

Next came storage supplies, satchels, chests and the like.

A larger satchel would be beneficial, allowing us to carry more.

Us? Patches didn’t have anything to carry, Frey was holding everything. Perhaps she should change this arrangement? She pondered this thought as she followed Frey around the store, mindful to keep her hood up and her mangled hand hidden in the folds of the extra fabric that would otherwise drag on the ground.

If the older gentlemen who ran the place found her odd, he didn’t say anything, in fact he barely gave the girl a second look as he and Frey talked business.

In the end, they walked out with a new bag, some clothes and bandages. As they stepped outside, she looked up toward Frey.

“Should I be carrying things?”, she cocked her head to the side. It seemed only fair, at least in her mind.

She didn’t require food, but she could carry other things for the naimar, if only because she wished to help.

There were several shops and stalls that smelled like they might serve food there, the closest one smelled of smoked meat.

 

[PhoenixMire]

When he got out of the shop, he glanced to the hooded child beside him, and smiled a bit. “I’d ask you to carry your own stuff, but you don’t need anything, so it’s fine.” He looked at her, sighing at how she had to keep the cloak up off the ground, and how it pooled around her shoulders. “I didn’t see any cloaks in your size in that shop. We’ll have to keep looking.”

He found himself unconsciously following the scent of food. There was the smell of smoked meat, which was nice - but if he concentrated, he could also smell fresh-baked bread, and possibly some pies. Frey stopped at a stall selling smoked meat; he purchased enough for his breakfast and began to eat it as he further explored the village and looked for more food.

Eventually he settled on buying some bread, cheese, dried meat, and dried fruit - enough to last him for a decently long journey. He stuffed his new things into his bag and sighed contentedly to himself.

He glanced to Patchwork, then back to the streets ahead of him. They were fairly busy, with people bustling to and fro, running their own errands. “Do we need anything else before we set off?” Frey wondered aloud.

 

[StarryKnights]

So she didn’t need to worry about carrying anything so long as it wasn’t hers? That didn’t seem right. She frowned.

“It seems unfair that you must carry anything, but I won’t insist”.

Perhaps another time she could acquire a cloak and bag and something to carry. Patches had no idea what sort of thing she’d want enough to carry it with her while they traveled. Perhaps she’d think of something later.

Frey headed to some different stores to get the rest of their supplies, mainly food. Patches didn’t need to eat so she didn’t care what he bought at these places. As they walked around she was careful to keep her mangled hand hidden.

How was she going to fix this? Finding a new limb would prove difficult and require either grave robbing or murder. Neither option was appealing to Patches. She didn’t know where she’d get the material to patch the injury, though she felt she could if present the opportunity.

These thoughts dominated her thoughts as Frey finished up his shopping, she snapped back to reality when he asked if there was anything else, they needed.

She looked up to him, frowning. “I would…like to fix my hand but am unsure how to do so. I need something to either replace or cover the damage…”.

At the very least she’d like a garment to cover it, that way she wouldn’t need Frey’s cloak.

“You there, little one!”, Patches turned round as a new voice called to her, it was a middle aged woman, with brown hair and a pair of kind brown eyes.

“That cloak looks like it’s far too large”, the woman continued as she approached the pair. Patches regarded her with wary eyes, as the woman stepped closer her gaze moved to the ground and she unconsciously stepped closer to Frey. She didn’t want the woman getting a good look at her face.

The woman carried a small pack, which seemed to hold a variety of clothes. She eyed the pair with interest before looking to Frey.

“That cloak is far too large for her, I can sell you something her size for a decent price”, she beamed at the pair.

“Handmade, high quality and built to last”.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Frey shrugged a bit at her response. He didn't see why she'd have to carry his stuff. She was a small child, and he was an adult - not to mention a naimar, strong enough to haul massive boulders if he wanted to. "I can barely even feel the weight of my bag," he reassured her. "Don't worry about it."

He continued walking through the fairly busy streets, eyeing the buildings and open-air stalls lining the paths. Occasionally a merchant would yell out, advertising their wares. There were all kinds of stalls. Stalls for meat, for pies, for fruits and vegetables, for jewelry, for clothing, for animal products, for tools, for weapons... There must be some kind of market event that he'd managed to stumble into. A nice coincidence.

He turned his mismatched gaze to Patchwork as she spoke of her hand. A frown crossed his lips - partially grossed out, partially thoughtful. "Huh. Well, the only place I can think of to..." He lowered his voice. "To get another hand... is a grave. But I don't think anyone appreciates grave robbers."

What should they do? He idly bit his lip as he walked, lost in thought, and didn't even notice the woman approaching.

She'd noticed, of course, that the little girl's cloak was far too large for her. With a smile, Frey stepped in front of Patchwork, afraid the stranger would look too closely at her. "Thank you, ma'am! You're too kind. I've been searching for a decently-sized cloak for her." He motioned to her pack. "May I see?"

 

[StarryKnights]

The woman beamed and happily showed her wares. Her cloaks were made of varying animal pelts, each had their own little artistic flair to them. Some had small floral patterns sewn into them, others had colored trim along the edges of the garment.

The woman glanced from Frey to the young girl hiding behind him, the poor girl seemed oddly uninterested in the selection of her own clothes. The child’s gaze remained fixated on the ground, it seemed she looked about on occasion but was taking special care not to look at the seller.

That was odd, perhaps the girl was just shy? She smiled at the little girl.

“Which one is your favorite sweetie?”.

Patches head jerked upwards as she was addressed, remembered a second too late that she wasn’t supposed to be looking at anyone.

The seller’s face paled, but luckily thanks to the cloak she couldn’t see the thick lines of stitches around her neck. But the woman could see the girl was impossibly pale, and the flat expression in her eyes was unnerving.

“Oh my…”, the seller looked to Frey.

“Is she…well sir, she looks awfully pale…here, I know just the thing”. She rummaged through her satchel, and pulled out a white cloak, sized for a small child. It had some rater detail floral patterns sewn with red and green thread. The flowers resembled roses and covered the back of the cloak.

“This little beauty is special, it’s enchanted to keep it from getting dirty”, the woman beamed. “I’m a bit of a mage in my spare time, sewing enchantments into the clothes makes them even more special. But more importantly than that, this on is made to be especially warm”. She offered it to Patches, who looked uncertainly to Frey.

Should she accept this…?

Sensing the girl’s hesitation, the woman looked to Frey.

“Normally something like this would fetch a decent price, but for you two…”, she thought for a moment.

“I’ll only charge…hmmm, ten gold. That’s quite the bargain”.

Well…if it was a bargain then how could she refuse? Patches hesitantly reached out with her uninjured hand she plucked the cloak from the woman’s hand and looked it over more closely. She could sense the magic in the stitching, and the cloak radiated a pleasant warmth.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Frey tried not to look outwardly nervous when the woman glimpsed a bit of Patchwork's face. He said nothing, instead casting a glance to the girl and keeping a smile on his face. Then he looked back to the woman as she produced possibly the most beautiful cloak he'd ever seen.

He cocked a brow. It looked incredibly expensive.

The stitch work was admirable - not that he knew much of anything about sewing, but he didn't have to possess any sewing skill to appreciate the garment. Not to mention it was enchanted? It would be nice to give Patchwork a cloak that wouldn't ever get dirty... but there was no way he'd be able to afford it.

He waited for her to name her price, and slightly tilted his head to the side when she did. Just as he'd thought - very pricey. "Ten gold. Hmm." He could probably buy a horse for that price. No way did he want to spend so much money on a piece of fabric! That would be stupid. He watched as the little girl looked it over, seemingly entranced by the beautiful cloak. No. He wasn't going to buy it. Why should he care about spoiling an undead child he was going to sell off, anyway?

And yet, almost before he knew what he was doing, he produced ten shining gold pieces from his bag and handed them to the woman. "I'll take it."

He could have screamed at himself for being so stupid. For some reason, though, he still pressed the money into the woman's palm and nodded to her in thanks. Now he had hardly any money left... probably just a few coppers; maybe one silver piece. Ten coppers equalled one silver piece, and ten silvers equaled a gold. So, in short, he was completely broke. He supposed he'd just have to try and look for a job to take on in this village before setting off again.

 

[StarryKnights]

Ten gold was still expensive, as far as Patches knew a single gold piece was worth ten silver ones. She did appreciate the fine stitching of the cloak however, it would be a shame to not own such a fine piece. She ran her fingers over the precise stitching, noting a few mistakes here and there.

She wasn’t expecting Frey to purchase it for her, it was fine, far too fine to belong to someone like her.

So, her eyes lit up in surprise when Frey handed over the ten gold, thus purchasing the piece. The seller beamed.

“You two take care now”, she waved to the both of them, pocketing her coin as she headed off in her own direction.

Patches blinked, she looked from the cloak to Frey and then back again.

“…You didn’t have to purchase it…”, she spoke softly. Though she said that, she couldn’t help the fluttering sensation in her stomach. Was this…joy perhaps? Giddiness?

She wanted to shrug off Frey’s cloak and put it on right now. But she knew she couldn’t, everyone would see her hand and pale, deathly skin. She was surprised that the woman hadn’t said anything about it.

Perhaps she’d just spotted an easy sale and was happy to have made some money and didn’t care if the situation was strange.

But now Frey was down ten gold. Patches frowned. She ought to try and fix that, but with her condition it wasn’t as if she could work a normal job.

“…Do we need more money before we leave?”, she asked the naimar with a small frown.

 

[PhoenixMire]

Frey thanked the woman as she left - then his smile immediately dropped when she was out of sight. "Woman was probably trying to scam me," he muttered under his breath. Why in the world had he given into her demands, and without even haggling? He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping as he ran his hands through his dark hair.

When he looked at Patchwork, she seemed surprisingly happy - or maybe it was just his imagination. "We should get you somewhere out of this crowd, so you can put it on."

She brought up their main issue at the moment - which was that they needed money before they set off. Frey nodded idly and continued on through the streets, looking for a tavern of some kind. Taverns usually had a person or two that could hire him for a job. Some bigger towns had buildings specifically used for travelers and mercenary types to find work - but a small village like this wouldn't have that. He'd have to settle for a tavern, despite the fact that he didn't think there would be many patrons this early in the day.

He wandered the streets until he found what he was looking for - a wooden sign hanging above a building read The Royal Dragon. Such a majestic name didn't fit the small, ramshackle tavern. It looked so unpleasant that he had to fight a frown as he opened the door and stepped inside.

Immediately the overwhelming smell of overcooked food and mead filled the air. Frey was surprised to see a fair amount of people seated at the ugly, uneven tables dotting the dimly-lit room. Why did this place look so much worse than the rest of the town?

 

[StarryKnights]

Somewhere private to change, yes this was what a normal young girl would need. She folded her new cloak as carefully as she could without dragging Frey’s on the ground and followed after the naimar as he continued through town. As she’d suspected, they were in need of coin before they left town.

Patches couldn’t think of any means to make money aside from taking a job, outside of illegal activity. It seemed Frey was on the same page, because he led them to a worn down old tavern. These were the sort of places adventurers and mercenaries gathered, hopefully they could find some work.

The Royal Dragon did not live up to its expectations, Patches imagined if she had a sense of smell, her nose would crinkle with disgust at the odors in the place. It was packed with people, the room was dimly lit and it’s customers were crowded around un ever tables and a surprisingly large bar.

The room seemed to size the both of them up, but they must not have looked too interesting because most of the patrons went back to their drinking, card games and bickering.

There was a board behind the bar, which had a variety of flyers pinned to it. Patches pointed.

“Perhaps we should try there?”.

She wasn’t sure what sort of work Frey would be after, hopefully something that would pay well and wouldn’t take long. Patches didn’t want to linger in this town, less their troubles follow them and effect these people. She held no loyalty to this place and it’s citizens but didn’t wish to see them harmed.

She also scanned the room looking for a private place she could change at. Spotting a sign that implied there was a washroom toward the back, she tugged on Frey’s sleeve and pointed it out.
“I’m going to go there and change”, she spoke a bit louder than normal to be heard over the noise before heading toward the back of the building, still clutching her new garment.