Callings (Closed)

[Lechies Degrantine]

Lechies frowned as well, though the sentiment didn't last. Her eyes dropped, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "I don't mean to disrespect the bravery of your actions today, nor the clear wisdom of your years. You acted as you felt was best. I am only doing the same. Whatever his inclinations toward wrongdoing," she waved a hand vaguely at Rake, who was still lying terrified on the ground, "passing sentence is a privilege reserved for magistrates and gods, and I am neither. If there is a choice, I will always act to save a life."

Maybe that outlook was foolish, overly sentimental. It could be argued, as the warrior had, that some people were beyond redemption. Lechies understood, truly. But she also believed that the lives of all sentient beings, even those like Rake, were theirs to spend as their owners saw fit. Free will was a gift from the Eidolons. If someone wanted to walk a path to their own ruin, then so be it. But Lechies wouldn't help them destroy themselves.

"In any case..." She dipped her head in a small bow, the lowest she thought she could go without keeling over. "Malcolm, faithful champion of Esyrax. Words can't express the depth of my gratitude for your rescue. Your offer is kind, and I'll accept it, but only after you see to Rake's people first. Their condition is much more grave."

Looking quickly over the bodies strewn about the passageway, Lechies could see that some of the bandits' members were absent. Jaiza, she knew, was likely resting in his hammock, waiting for his ribs to mend. The others might have already met Malcolm in battle—she hoped he hadn't killed them all. And it was possible that Eun was still breathing, laid out as she was by the wall as if sleeping, aside from the blood trickling down her temple.

"I am called Lechies," she added as she finally, carefully worked herself back onto her feet. "I'm going to fetch my belongings from their storeroom. You can find me there."

[Malcolm Rhodes]

He understood her reasoning, and even could see the merit to her words. Instead of drawing the conversation out he simply listened, letting her speak her peace. Malcolm felt a strange surge of pride when she addressed him with a title, and even more so when she used it to thank him. Then she was rising despite remaining unsteady. He only offered a solemn nod before watching her go deeper into the caves.

When she was well gone he shook his head and looked down to Rake. “I was like her once, believing the good even in the darkness. People like you took that from me. If I ever learn you’ve gone back on her offer I will tear your soul limb from limb,” he growled, deathly serious. Rake gibbered softly, fear plain in his eyes as he again lost his voice.

Malcolm rose and moved to the fallen woman, the one he’d kicked in the chest. After a quick assessment he found she was still breathing, though only barely. He redirected the power he was storing for a shield into a powerful healing light. It pulsed, resisting being absorbed for a moment before finally fading into her chest. When the spell finished Eun would be healed. Additionally, any knock to the head would be repaired, though it would still take time to recover.

“Awaken, you have been spared. Do not attack or flee, or you will lose the privilege of life,” the Paladin said as the Eun’s eyes snapped into focus. He leaned heavily on his practiced voice of command, and the woman shrunk back at the intensity of his words.

She did not scream or strike out at him and so Malcolm nodded and rose. If she tried to run, Typhoon would end her just the same as Malcolm had. With no others in sight that could possibly be alive, he moved onward, letting her lay there surrounded by the dead.

Moving into the cave, he found a collection of hammocks surrounded by seemingly random gear and goods. He surmised it was the sleeping area and scanned it carefully before finding a man in one of the hammocks, his torso wrapped tightly with bandages. Malcolm walked over, his boots almost silent as he moved.

“Awaken,” Malcolm barked out, waiting as Jaiza snapped awake shocked and confused. The bandit flailed once before hissing in intense pain and turning his head instead. Small tears were at the edges of his eyes and Malcolm surmised he suffered at least broken ribs. “You have been spared a grim death. Do not attack or flee, or you will lose the privilege of life. I will heal you, and you will join your allies near the fire.”

Jazia looked extremely confused, but remained unmoving as he took in the ghost looming over him. Malcolm reached out his hand and the man tried to flinch away. As soon as the spell released all of the tension drained from Jazia’s face to be replaced by a relaxed grin. “You are healed, join your allies. Do not test me, or you will join the dead,” Malcolm growled before turning his attention to the rest of the room.

He found nothing more of interest, and headed further into the hideout until he came across Lechies. “I have found and healed two. I would heal you as well before I return and heal Rake. I do not feel safe bringing the man to combat readiness with allies, but I will do as you ask,” he nodded before frowning. “But not until I have restored your strength that you might use your magic.”

[Lechies Degrantine]

Upon returning to the rear cavern, Lechies wearily set to work cataloging her remaining effects. There wasn't much to retrieve. Her medical supplies, chiefly—an assortment of herbs packed away in little pouches, small jars and phials filled with potion, her dwindling rolls of bandages, a few needles and some thread. Not worth much to those outside her field, but still troublesome to replace. Among the more valuable of Lechies' belongings were some surgical tools for more delicate work—scissors, forceps, hooks, a scalpel—though perhaps the bandits hadn't known what to make of them, because they'd been set aside in a corner next to a pile of rusted weaponry.

Lechies also noted with little surprise that none of her foodstuffs were left. A mental image of the bandits gleefully distributing her dried meats, nuts, and cheeses among themselves slid across her mind's eye. Which of her captors, she wondered, had been lucky enough to claim the piece of fruitcake she'd saved from the caravan's stop at Wyldcliff? As compensation, Lechies took what she liked from the bandits' own stores.

She was tucking her new rations into her pack when her foot hit against something hard.

It was the collar; she'd nearly forgotten. Lechies picked it up and examined it, the charmed metal still humming under her fingers. Part of her wanted nothing to do with it ever again, but she knew she had to be practical. Rare artifacts such as these were worth decent coin. Once she arrived at a town, she could sell it for funds to replace what had been used to treat the bandits, and properly restock on food.

At the very least, such an object could not be allowed to stay in the bandits' keeping. On the chance that Malcolm's warnings proved true, leaving the collar here would only ensure that someone else suffered what Lechies had. However, even if she sold it to the most upstanding merchant she could find, there was no guarantee that it wouldn't eventually pass into disreputable hands...

Malcolm's words pulled Lechies' attention away from the collar with a start; she hadn't heard him enter. Hearing what he had to say, she nodded, gratitude pulling at the corners of her tired smile.

"Thank you for your help. I won't argue with your reasoning."

Lechies glanced at the collar then, an idea taking root. She held it out to Malcolm.

"I'd like to ask another favor, as well. Would you take this with you? It would put my heart at ease to know that it won't be used for ill purpose any longer."

A warrior of such stout virtue would never abuse this power. And if Malcolm was to continue wading through the forces of evil undaunted as he had done today, maybe he'd find a more permissible use for it than collaring peaceable doctors snatched off the road.

[Malcolm Rhodes]

Malcolm reached out to take the collar, confident he could find a place for it deep in his pack until he reached a more established settlement. He closed his fingers around the collar, feeling the cold tingle of its magic and frowning faintly. Magic he did not control had always made him vaguely uneasy, and that had been before his death to it.

The was a loud clang as the collar, released by Lechies, immediately fell to the timeworn stone floor. Malcolm grunted in annoyance, leaning down to pick up the collar. When his fingers neared the enchanted metal they dispersed, becoming insubstantial but not painfully so. It was like trying to reach through a mirror.

Malcolm enforced his will, tightening his control and demanding his body comply. He was able to lift the collar the barest fraction before his control slipped minutely. The magiced restraint immediately fell from his grasp. “I do not believe I can unfortunately,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “It seems seventy years is perhaps not enough time to train.”

He rose back to his full height, suddenly feeling weary. “I can escort you to a larger settlement, but I will be unable to carry the collar. There is a wagon not terribly far, I believe Typhoon could pull it easily enough.” He chuckled to himself at the thought. His mount had taken to spectral life much as a fish to the sea and continued to impress him with feats of ghosthood.

Turning his attention away from the collar, Malcolm pulled at the power welling in his chest. He was low on immediate healing, but more would come with time. He guided the blessing of Esyrax to his palm before placing it lightly on Lechies’ forehead. "May you drink deep of the strength you have shown and the wisdom you have earned," he intoned reverently, drawing on the Eagle and Bear with equal measure. He was rewarded with a strong pulse of energy, Esyrax's acceptance of her offerings in battle. Despite the strength of the spell, Lechies' body greedily drank in the light magic. The paladin grinned as she visibly relaxed and grew stronger.

“Do you want me to aid in collecting the valuables and equipment? They would do you well as a small recompense for the pain and suffering caused,” he motioned around the room at the hodgepodge of items and gear. “I have no need of food or material goods myself.” He shrugged, his shoulders becoming faintly wispy before snapping back to solidity.

[Lechies Degrantine]

For all the ease with which Malcolm had disposed of the bandits, it never occurred to Lechies that handling a simple object would be beyond his capabilities. And yet, the collar struck the ground with a noise that made her jump. She watched with growing dismay and embarrassment as he tried and failed to maintain his own corporeality around it.

"My apologies. I suppose I'll have to hold onto this, then." Long enough to pitch it into the first sizable ravine she came across, anyway.

Lechies picked up the collar to stow into her pack, listening as Malcolm went on. The thought of returning to civilization did much to cheer her battered spirit. Typhoon was presumably a horse, or possibly an ox of rather stormy temperament.

His blessing she received with eyes closed. Lechies sighed in relief as its warmth seeped through her, flooding her limbs with a vitality that had become near foreign after long days of imprisonment. Ristgir's boons had always felt to Lechies like being embraced by an afternoon sun, gentle heat wrapping around her shoulders, and a peace welling in her soul akin to watching dawn spread its golden fingers across the landscape. Esyrax's energy was different, but no less effective. Though still malnourished and sleep-deprived, Lechies imagined her body now had fortitude to scale a mountain and then some.

She flexed her fingers, greatly enjoying the lack of weakness in the motions. Then she stilled, casting a reluctant glance around the storeroom.

"Oh. I've already taken some food for the coming journey. Anything else is..."

Lechies couldn't imagine herself with a cargo of arms and armor when she had no intention of using them. And the valuables that the bandits had gathered—necklaces and rings, little statuettes and other knickknacks—conveyed to her a sort of tragic emotion; beloved keepsakes separated from their original owners. Surely it wouldn't be right to profit off stolen goods?

The magical collar was purely a matter of confiscation.

"Well," Lechies said after a pause, a flicker of remorse passing over her face, "Kar had been collecting some small gemstones, I believe. They would be lightweight and discreet enough to take into town. I'm not certain about anything else, but we can look together, and you can give me your advice?"

[Malcolm Rhodes]

Malcolm could see the reluctance in Lechies’ eyes as she looked over at the small piles of stolen goods. He offered her a knowing nod. “The items need not be sold, they can be returned,” he said, moving over to pick up a small bronze statuette of Cecilia in prayer.

“The local villages will coordinate delivering them back to their owners during meetings. I’m sure you’ve seen such before if you live in the area. There is often a small finder’s fee, though it is usually supplies or a warm fire in the more remote places.” he placed the idol back onto the table but separated from the other junk.

“If you see something that seems particularly valuable in either worth or sentiment collect it here. We can use-” he looked around the room before spotting a small warped wooden chest. “This should do nicely to hold everything.” He moved the chest to the table, placing the bronze Cecilia inside.

He turned his attention to the rest of the room, visually scouring the piles of objects until he spotted a small hint of fabric. “What are you then,” he muttered softly as he carefully lifted a collection of random knick knacks away. Beneath the junk, an embroidered silk handkerchief was bundled up roughly.

Malcolm lifted the handkerchief and grunted as the solid thunk of gold sounded against the table. A ring, with a broad and thick top, haphazardly bounced around before settling. Malcolm tried to lift it and frowned as the same feeling of magic pushed away his fingers. “Come get this if you could,” he said over his shoulder. “Looks like a house signet, but has a touch of magic to it.”

His frown deepened as he tried again to turn the ring for examination. “Should be able to carry it in the chest. I’m sure someone will recognize it if you don’t.” House rings were valuable, and not just because this one carried magic. Many estates were extremely happy to recover them. The presence of other effects likely meant the bandits had robbed, perhaps killed, a noble of some sort.

[Lechies Degrantine]

Lechies plucked the ring from the table. It was a beautifully wrought thing, sized to fit a man's hand. The sigil seemed to depict a deer holding a sword in its mouth. As Malcolm had said, there was a touch of magic to the accessory but Lechies couldn't determine what it was meant to do.

"The sigil is vaguely familiar. I may have seen something like it in the western regions, past the Ordinuad." She ran her thumb over the cool gold before re-wrapping it in the handkerchief and placing it in the chest. "In any case, I'll see about getting it returned to its owners, and these other items as well. Thank you."

Kar's gemstone collection turned up in one of the drawers and was relocated to the chest, as was a set of bone dice that Lechies imagined would be useful for passing the time on a slow night. Last was a worn map of Tviyr unearthed from a long, dirtied box. Lines of faded ink criss-crossed the parchment, linking towns and cities together, cutting through rivers and avoiding the mountains. Trade routes, perhaps.

Her eyes landed on a road that followed the coast up to Fellsgard. Soon, Lechies thought with more than a hint of longing, she'd be able to taste the salt breeze again for herself, watch the waves batter the cliffs with their hard white spray. Caravans taking that route always had to traverse with utmost care, for the path was narrow and the coming of winter would ice the road over-

Oh.

"Sir Malcolm, if I may," she began quickly, gaze still pinned to the map, "you mentioned that there are a number of casualties in a field nearby—felled by Rake's gang. Did they look to be... Are the bodies recent, or..."

Lechies blinked, taking a moment to focus on the blessing Malcolm had imparted, soak in Esyrax's strength. She tried again to explain less clumsily. "Before I was taken, I was in the company of some merchants and their bodyguards. When the bandits struck, before I lost consciousness—both sides had been evenly-matched, I think. And yet still I wound up here. When I tried to ask the outcome of the battle, they told me that they had killed the entire party save myself. I... want to believe that it was a lie, that they were only being cruel."

She looked to Malcolm then, eyes bright and afraid. "This would have been around ten days ago. No more than two weeks. Those victims outside—do you think they could be my party?"

[Malcolm Rhodes]

Malcolm had been looking over a collection of woefully rusted weapons and finding only disappointment when his head instinctively snapped around to respond to a ‘Sir Malcolm’. He listened to Leiches intently, moving over to look down at the map and finding he felt only a vague tingle of recognition for the places and paths. He frowned as she finished her question, clearly hopeful for her lost companions.

"The people I saw were engaged in battle as I arrived," Malcolm said with a shake of his head. "I did not inspect them closely, instead I followed the bandits. They seemed to have a hideout nearby and acted unconcerned for the remains they left behind."

He sighed softly and moved his hand to pat her shoulder gently. "Perhaps your companions escaped, I do not know, but there are innocents to bury and I do not wish to remain here over long now." He offered her a nod before moving to sweep the room one final time. "A fitting punishment for the bandits don’t you agree?" he asked as he picked up a rusted shovel.

"I doubt they would get far enough on foot, and you seemed strong in your conviction to offer them a chance. Do know if they cause you trouble I will end them without another opportunity," he said, his features hardening as his brow came down in a vague scowl for the thought.

Then his expression cleared and he spoke in a voice thick with duty, "I, Knight Protector Malcolm, swear service to escort you to the nearest township. What you choose to do from there, I leave to you, Healer Leiches." He nodded as he finished his declaration. He smiled softly as the faint echo of his voice faded away. It felt good to be closer to his past, even if only briefly. He moved to collect the chest, offering it to her to place any remaining items into as he waited. The sun was crawling across the sky, but he had all the time in the world.

[Lechies Degrantine]

Recent. Then there was a chance that some of Marlowe's party had survived the attack, had gone on to ply their wares across the river. She supposed she would never know for sure. But the mere possibility that the entire group hadn't been left to rot in the sun was a welcome drop of hope.

It was awful to be relieved that those poor souls outside weren't her former traveling companions, but after so many days of sickening worry, Lechies couldn't bring herself to feel properly ashamed. Perhaps after rest and food, the guilt would come.

Malcolm spoke of protecting her—whatever it took—gripping his borrowed shovel as he might that greatsword of his. Lechies only nodded, her expression grim with understanding. Ample mercy and warnings both had been given to Rake and his remaining few. If they still chose not to listen, not even Lechies could argue for clemency.

She shut the lid. "Yes, of course. Thank you again. You do me a great honor, Sir Malcolm."

There was no one in the passageway when they returned. Progress towards the hideout's entrance found the bandits now lingering just around the final bend, the hunch of their shoulders betraying their unease. At the sound of their footsteps, Jaiza jumped, then seemed to regret the sudden movement as he put a hand to his ribs. Rake stared at Malcolm, eyes wild like a cornered rabbit, and Eun took a deliberate step backwards.

"We're just taking our leave," Lechies reassured them. "I'm honestly surprised you lot are still here."

Rake glanced towards the tunnel mouth, licking his lips nervously. "Yeah, well, we'd be happy to be out of your fucking hair, believe me, but there's a monster blocking the way out."

Frowning, Lechies peered past him. There was indeed a large shape present. Its equine silhouette seemed to leak bits of luminous green into the air. Just like Malcolm.

"Ah," she said, stepping back. Lechies glanced at the ghostly warrior. "Typhoon, I take it?"

[Malcolm Rhodes]

“Moving guard,” Malcolm snapped out, his voice suddenly rich and strong sounding. Typhoon snorted, stamping the ground once with a hoof before bursting into mist and reforming with his back legs covering the entrance without actually blocking it bodily. As the great animal settled his hide reflected the early afternoon sunlight, an eerie green glow spilled into the cave, giving them all a deathly pallor.

“He is, a stubborn and prideful beast, the equal of which I have never met,” the Paladin said back to Leiches, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the bandits. “Though I’ve never heard him called a monster by those that lived.”

He motioned with his head towards Rake and the entrance. “Lead the way, backstabber,” he half-growled after ensuring he was firmly between the man and his companion. The bandits looked at Malcolm, the rear hooves of Typhoon, and then Leiches.

When there didn’t seem to be any additional instruction forthcoming, Rake hissed a half-hearted curse and shook his head before walking out, keeping as far from the charger as he could.

Malcolm watched the man go, but didn’t let his sight slip from the other two. When the three had cleared, he stepped in front of Lechies and whistled sharply. Typhoon snorted and turned to start down the ramp, acting as a blockade between them and the bandits as they went down the sharp switchbacks.

“Do you wish to go see the most recent attack first, or did you have another idea in mind?” he asked softly as they tromped down the incline. He didn’t care what they did, only that the killers were moving away and they didn’t come back. He’d made an oath now, and he intended to keep it.