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Post by moralhazard on Apr 5, 2019 17:57:22 GMT
“You’ve worked as a guard,” The fat man sitting behind the desk look Kara up and down slowly.
Kara stood, feet slightly apart, a few feet before the desk. She nodded, once, and reached down to take the Stone Shields insignia back off the desk, tucking it into the inside left pocket of her tunic.
The fat man looked down at the spot on the desk where the insignia had been, squinting slightly, then back at Kara.
Kara met his gaze, evenly, hands coming to meet behind her back, the back of one resting against the wood of her glaive’s staff.
The fat man sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’re looking to hire anyone else today.”
Kara didn’t move.
“It’s not you,” the merchant added, speaking more and more quickly. “It’s just that we’re not – we’re not hiring. Nope. No guards. Please see yourself out.”
Kara, slowly, took a step back, then turned and left, making her way out of the room.
“Next!” The merchant called over her shoulder, loudly.
A large man – a foot and a half taller than Kara if he was an inch – shouldered past her, his muscles bulging so much it looked as if it might be hard for him to move.
Kara made her way out of the merchant’s office. On the street, she stopped and took her glaive from her back, using it as a walking stick as she made her way along the cobblestones. She didn’t need it, but the smooth wood of the staff beneath her hand was – comforting. Eventually she would find a job, Kara told herself. She wore her black tunic, cleaned of blood and hung with rocks in the hems until it had no wrinkles left.
In the meantime, she had a few coins left. Her stomach grumbled, and Kara glanced around. It was lunch time; not much point in looking for jobs during lunch time. She should walk off the hunger – she knew better – but her body was still recovering from the fight with Horund. The fever was long gone, the crack in her ribs healed as if it had never been and her shoulder as strong as ever, but her leg had still been slightly tender when she woke up that morning, and she was just a little too aware of it now. Food, Kara thought, would help.
Kara kept walking until she found a tavern, small and clean, cheerfully lit. Kara stepped inside, slowly, glancing around, and made her way to one of the booths at the back of the room, resting her glaive against the wall next to it and taking a seat where she could keep an eye on the room. She shifted against the hard bench, once, then settled, hands resting together on the table. One more meal. She’d eat lightly, Kara promised herself. No ale; she couldn’t afford it.
“Good afternoon!” A young woman with curly dark hair and a neat blue apron approached with a smile. “Are you looking for lunch? There’s beef stew, freshly made, or baked chicken if you prefer.”
Kara looked down at the wooden table. The surface was scratched, old and worn, but determinedly polished to a shine nonetheless. “Beef stew,” she said, after a moment.
“Beef stew it is!” The woman’s voice faltered a little, then, determinedly, regained its cheerful note. “Coming right up.” She didn’t linger, making her way back to the counter.
Kara sat back against the wooden seat, looking out at the room. She wasn’t the only customer; far from it. The room was full of energy, people laughing and talking, with the steady clank of spoons against bowls and forks and knives against plates. It smelled good too, the air thick with the scent of beef and herbs and roasted chicken. Kara’s stomach grumbled again.
“Enjoy!” It wasn’t more than a few minutes before the waitress set a sturdy wooden bowl before Kara, along with a spoon and a rough hunk of brown bread. She hurried away, stopping at three or four other tables to chat.
Kara ate steadily and hungrily; she thought she could’ve had twice as much, for all the portions were generous. The only time she stopped was when something in the tavern was even more distracting than the food: when a man drank an entire pitcher of ale to the cheers of his friends, when a little girl sitting on her father’s lap burst into giggles and squirmed away as he bounced her on his knee and tickled her, when the waitress told a story to a group of young women and they all shrieked with laughter. Kara mopped up the last bits of the stew with the bread, not leaving even a crumb to waste. By then, even the rough wood of the bench seemed to have grown softer. Kara felt surprisingly – warm, looking around the room. Comfortable.
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Post by Malakbel on Apr 5, 2019 20:33:27 GMT
It was another one of those moments that would call Kara's attention, or rather two. The first one of those was when a bulking figure made it's way inside the tavern, at least seven feet tall and covered in a mix-matched armor of hardened leather with plates on top and chain in different places. He was a creature Kara had never seen before; small tusks protruding from the sides of it's mouth and a rather abundant beard growin in the form of sideburns, carefully trimmed before reaching his lips or even moustache.
His eyes were of a sulfuric orange that was pretty dim, and on it's back was a rather large weapon, probably a greataxe or a great mace. When he walked in everyone's attention turned towards the beast but soon afterwards when he returned the look everyone was quick to look away and resume their business when he walked up to the bar. The first one to approach was the lady with the apron that had served Kara moments ago, she began to say something and offer help when the creature shoved one of his hands on her chest and send her flying a good two feet away before landing painfully on her ass.
He walked straight up to the counter. With a dead-eyed stare he looked at the owner. A small halfling woman that for all intents and purposes was looking rather concerned about the situation.
"I've already told her I will-" She began to say
The man shoved one of his arms across the counter and grabbed her by the neck of the shirt she was wearing, effortlessly bringing her up to a point where they could easily meet eye to eye. Almost.
"You're two weeks late already, do you take Ajisha for a fool? I thought I was pretty clear about the kind of dangerous place this zone can be..." The thing said
Just then another of the girls approached, and tried to shove the man away
"Take your hands off her" She said
The thug with a grunt grabbed the girl's head, and promptly smashed it against the counter against one of the glasses with a worrisome crack. Her shrieks of pain filled the place as she grabbed her face crying, her mouth completely red as blood was pouring out in rather big quantities, and some teeth fell both on the counter and on the floor. Everyone looked in horror at that point, all chatter had ceased, most faces were pale.
"Look at how slippery this floor is" He claimed then and tigthened his grip around the halfling's shirt. "See what I mean?"
His voice was only interrupted every now and again by the screaming of the wounded woman and her cries of pain as she hunched over, shivering, both her hands over her mouth trembling.
"I don't have-" began to say the halfling
"I'd advise no one else tries to get up, the floor is so slippery they might just end up the same, it's not safe."
"I don't have the money"
"Find it. Or I'll take it's equivalent elsewhere" He said and dropped her without ceremony, letting the halfling fall on the ground with a loud thump behind the counter, and his gaze turned towards the bleeding woman on the floor with a look of contempt.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 5, 2019 20:44:10 GMT
It was the sound of silence, this time, that got Kara’s attention. The whole tavern seemed to quiet when the enormous creature entered. It wasn’t his armor or his tusks so much as the look on his face that did it. Kara could see people glancing away as he passed, conversations falling silent. She watched, hands gripping the seat beneath her, muscles slowly tensing beneath the wraps covering her arms.
Kara rose half to her feet when he shoved the waitress, all the corded muscles on her body standing out. She gritted her teeth. It wasn’t her business. Waterdeep wasn’t her city to protect; nowhere was, anymore. He picked the halfling woman up off her feet, and Kara gripped the table tighter. She couldn’t take it. Slowly, moving steadily and evenly, she released the table and reached for the glaive leaning against the wall, unwrapping the leather which hid the blade. She undid the last of the ties and dropped it onto the table, gripping the glaive tightly.
There was crash of skin on glass and a woman’s shriek. Kara could feel the blood pumping through her, hot and heavy. Whether this was a protection scam or a debt collection didn’t matter anymore; no one deserved to be treated like this. The creature turned to look at the woman on the floor. Kara rose, closing half the distance between them. She was the only other one moving in the room, and she knew she would draw his gaze immediately. That was fine; she was ready. Her right hand gripped the glaive, keeping it at her side – ready but not pointing at him.
“Get out,” Kara said, tone cold and utterly direct. She stood, feet slightly apart, braced against the floor, the butt of the glaive propped close to her right foot. She looked at the bully, about twenty feet away, just far enough away that she could meet his eyes without craning her neck. She paused, then added, calmly. “Now.”
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Post by Malakbel on Apr 5, 2019 20:51:11 GMT
"Sure" The thug said, with a look that showed nothing but contempt for her. He drew a quick look at the woman on the ground, then another look at the one still standing twenty feet away. He smiled. InitiativegB5wqqPc1d20+2And with surprising speed he rushed at her, one of his big arms grabbing hold of the weapon at his back revealing it to be something akin to a rather large cleaver. He didn't really wait for Kara to do or say anything else but instead approached very fast. The short woman made good use of her longer weapon to make an attack against him which managed to cut on part of his armor but soon enough he was almost on top of her and with a grunt that heavy weapon he had in hand descended upon her. Mercilessly he swung his weapon with wild abandon, with more brutish force than finess or tactics, he was counting on his superior physical strength to overwhelm her quickly. He wasn't worried that he might lose, though a weapon was a weapon. He wasn't underestimating her precisely because of that but there was an element of contempt that was always present as if she was nothing more than a nuisance, like the other woman before, or anyone else that would have tried to stand up against him. Attack #1 1d20+6Damage 1d12+4Attack#2 1d20+6Damage 1d12+41d20+2·1d20+6·1d12+4·1d20+6·1d12+4 |
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 5, 2019 20:53:09 GMT
Initiative PheHYLn21d20+1
((Kara will have an attack of opportunity when the opponent moves into her 10-foot radius!))
Attack roll: 1d20+5 If successful, damage: 1d10+3
1d20+1·1d20+5·1d10+3 |
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 5, 2019 21:15:19 GMT
He was faster than she expected, but not quite fast enough. Kara jerked the glaive up and across, catching the shaft in her left hand to drag it through his armor with all her strength. Then he was on her. The cleaver bit into Kara once; she stumbled and it took her again. Bright red blood gushed from both wounds. Kara could feel how bad the blows were, but her hands only tightened on the glaive; she’d trained too long to let go of her weapon, no matter how hard she was hit. Cool, cleansing rage poured through her. The pain faded away, leaving only Kara and her opponent, every bit of her attention wholly trained on the fight. Kara struck again, sweeping the glaive up and across.
((Bonus action: Kara enters a rage)) Attack: jVVrWB9S1d20+5If successful, damage: 1d10+51d20+5·1d10+5 |
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Post by Malakbel on Apr 5, 2019 21:24:08 GMT
Kara's attack connected to it's target but the various layers of armors that covered his body made it extremely hard to pierce it or even do a kind of real damage against him, a deaf sound of metal against metal muffled by the heardened leather over it could be heard, shortly before he moved one of his big arms forward and grabbed her head lifting her up in the air. In spite of her great physical strength during her rage, Kara's hand seemed to just slide across his armor whilst trying to grab a hold of it, while trying to kick him or put distance, it was like she was bouncing herself instead of managing to break free. And while that was happening, he dragged her fifteen feet back towards where he just had been and then proceeded to try to slam her, head first into the counter, five feet appart from where the previous slam had happened. He threw her against the counter neverminding the stools, glasses, drinks or people in the way (which were quick to scramble for safety when they saw him approaching their way) but the blood on Kara made her slippery for a moment and it couldn't quite reach the right momentum, however, as she flew forward. On the other hand, being thrown against a counter would make it hard for her to mantain her footing [Athletics Check]. Attack #1GrappleYPJz5ltY1d20+4Attack #2Slam against counter with advantage 1d20+41d20+4Damage1d4+41d20+4·1d20+4·1d20+4·1d4+4 |
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 5, 2019 21:27:40 GMT
Resisting the grapple (with advantage not that it will matter):
dXqxW9nJ1d20+5 OR 1d20+5
Athletics check not to fall prone: 1d20+5 OR 1d20+5
His hand closed around her, lifting her up in the air. Kara reached for his armor, gritting her teeth, searching for any bit of leverage to resist, but her hand, slick with her own blood, seemed to slide off the leather as feebly as her glaive had. In her other hand she kept a tight grip on the weapon.
He swung her down towards the counter; Kara twisted in his grasp, and maybe it was her size or the slick blood coating her, but she just barely missed the glass. He threw her against the counter and Kara twisted, using all her core muscles to aim for the ground instead; she landed on the ground with both feet, just keeping her balance, and turned, lunging back at him with the glaive, the butt of the weapon knocking two of the stools out of the way and to the ground.
Perhaps she should have been afraid; perhaps she should have run. Maybe she could even have made it to the door, to the street beyond. With each beat of her heart, more blood pumped from her wounds, soaking her tunic, shirt and leggings. She'd barely scratched her opponent. The world had gone hazy around the edges. None of that mattered; Kara wouldn't - couldn't - back down now. There was only the fight, no matter how it ended.
Kara's hands tightened on the shaft of the glaive and she swung again, reckless now, charging forward, first with the heavy blade, then a second strike at her opponent's crotch with the heavy butt of the weapon.
Reckless attack
Attack 1 (weapon): 1d20+5 or 1d20+5 If successful, damage: 1d10+5
Attack 2 (non-blade end, bonus action): 1d20+5 or 1d20+5 If successful, damage: 1d4+5
1d20+5·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d10+5·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d4+5 |
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Post by Malakbel on Apr 5, 2019 21:57:39 GMT
The first strike with the edge of the blade caught the pauldrons of the armor the thing was wearing with a loud thunk, and did not manage to pierce further, however her attack with the blunt end was more successful. Only a fool would wear no armor in the groin, and only someone even dumber would imagine it was because of the pain and not because of the potential danger that area presented, not akin to getting wounded on the heart or the neck. Nevertheless, a hit in the groin was still a hit in the groin be it blunt or slashing, and through the mail the hit reached it's target making the kind of orc thing let out a loud pained grunt. His eyes filled with rage immediately he sought to retaliate in kind.
It was evidently clear at that point that he didn't see her as a threat, but only as a nuisance to be deal with. Painfully. Excruciatingly. And he would repay her for that, before making it clear to the other clients exactly why there were no heroes around, because no one could stand up to the actual muscle. With a swift motion filled with hatred he threw a kick at her groin in just the same fashion she had done, a metal boot, or the armor piece above the knee would prove to be just as painful as a mace.
Attack #1 Kick in the groin
Jr8D5qlB1d20+4
1d20+4
Damage
1d4+4
Attack #2 Kick in the groin
1d20+4
1d20+4
Damage
1d4+4
1d20+4·1d20+4·1d4+4·1d20+4·1d20+4·1d4+4
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 5, 2019 22:04:02 GMT
His foot connected solidly between Kara’s legs. It hurt – it does hurt for women too, in fact, although not nearly as much as for men, and his armor-clad foot would have hurt badly no matter where it hit. It wasn’t that Kara didn’t feel the pain; it swept through her body like fire. It was that it was only on the surface. She spared no energy for it, no attention, because she had none left to spare; the battle was all-consuming, its heat flowing through her veins. She didn’t question her good fortunate that the creature seemed to have stopped using his weapon, mostly because she was beyond thinking about such things. If he wanted to play with her, let him play.
Kara lunged forward again, sweeping the glaive towards him, attacking again once with the blade and once with the butt, in a desperate swing.
Reckless attack
Attack 1 (weapon): JnZ2ddMY1d20+5 or 1d20+5
If successful, damage: 1d10+5
Attack 2 (non-blade end, bonus action): 1d20+5 or 1d20+5
If successful, damage: 1d4+51d20+5·1d20+5·1d10+5·1d20+5·1d20+5·1d4+5
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Post by Malakbel on Apr 5, 2019 22:08:21 GMT
The following swings he was more prepared for those swings of the woman, he hadn't seen anyone use a polearm like that before and it had not ocurred to him that someone would, but a hit in the groin was just about the kind of lesson that would forever remind him about watching out for the rear end of long weapons, particularly on the lower areas. His thick armor took care of the rest, as blow after blow bounced against his thick armor and that broad arm reached forward to grab her by the head again as she swung about. And once again the scene repeated itself, that brief struggle as the blood made it hard to get a hold of her but her wild swings left her open for such an attack with ease. Those fat fingers grabbed a hold of her hair pulling with savagery shoving her to the side and immediately proceeded to slam her against the counter with as much strength as he could muster.
"You should have stayed in your seat"
He growled as his arm began to move her. This time however the hit would connect slamming her head first into the counter adding her own blood to the scene without any kind of mercy or consideration much to the horror of anyone still watching. Some of the bravest patrons had decided to make a run for it during the fight and had managed to sneak past the brawl, but the rest just stood there frozen in place with a perfectly audible gasp of worry as the girl's head was smashed against the wooden surface.
Him? He felt nothing but contempt. First for the girls, meddling where they had no business. And then, for the rest of the onlookers. Cowards, the lot of them, letting two little girls come at him instead of giving it a try themselves. Not that he respected them either, for they were weak.
He spat on the ground at the thought. And then looked at Kara to see if she was still breathing. No killings was what he had been told, and it would be a pity if he had just broken that. Her boss would not be pleased, and that alone scared him more than facing the whole tavern with weapons in hand. Nothing was said about wounding people however.
Attack #1
Grapple
r7tpUlaV1d20+4
1d20+4
Attack #1
Slam against the table
1d20+4
1d20+4
1d4+41d20+4·1d20+4·1d20+4·1d20+4·1d4+4
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 5, 2019 22:09:04 GMT
Resisting the grapple: aPIxWmBs1d20+5 or 1d20+5His hand swept down, fingers tangling in her hair. Kara jerked away with all her strength, hard enough to rip a few strands loose against his fingers - but not hard enough to make him let go. She saw the counter coming this time, and knew with an uneasy certainty that this was it. The last thing she felt was her head slamming against the wood.
Kara dropped to the ground, unconscious, bleeding heavily from her various wounds. A little trickle of blood even flowed from her head where she'd hit the counter. She was, however, still breathing - for now.
Death saving throw 1: 1d20
Death saving throw 2: 1d20
Death saving throw 3: 1d20
Death saving throw 4: 1d20
((Kara makes it!))
Kara regains consciousness (and 1hp) in 1d4 hours
1d20+5·1d20+5·1d20·1d20·1d20·1d20·1d4 |
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Post by Malakbel on Apr 5, 2019 22:41:47 GMT
"Is this floor slippery or what?" Said the orc thing then and slammed his fist down on the counter with such strength that it cracked inwards where his fist had been.
"That's the second person to fall down today, found my money yet? Look at these people"
He continued to say pointing with one fat thumb to the rest of the clientele behind him
"They're terrified to get up, lest they slip down too. So where is my gods-damn money?"
The halfling woman was looking between sickened and terrified at the sight, and quickly began to gather as much money as she could from anywhere available.
"And fetch me a drink" The thug said "Slippery floors make me thirsty"
That said he sat on a stool, and made it creak like it was about to burst from the sheer weight it had to take. A few minutes later the money had been gathered along with a drink, which the man promptly drank in one single gulp, and then threw the glass behind the counter smashing it against the wall.
"Better find someone to clean this floor up. If you run late again, next time it won't be just what you owe that's going to disappear."
He threatened looking straight at her and then walked out the door with loud thumbs.
____________
One hour later Kara would wake up in the back of the tavern. A dark place, lit only by candles and an old oil lamp. It seemed to be a storage area turned into living quarters, with hanging beds near piles of crates. She was lying on the floor, a makeshift bed made of pillows and sheets stockpiled together, and most of her body was bandaged. The first thing she would notice was how her entire body was hurting, particularly her face. It would feel as if there was someone with a hammer hitting on it's side whenever she turned it too fast. And too fast was anything that was not really slow.
Nearby was the old hafling woman with a worried look on it's face, sitting on a considerably smaller stool. She hadn't looked so old earlier, but now, under the weak candlelight she seemed just a few years short of being sixty. Those light blue eyes of her gazing at some far away place until she realised Kara was waking up. She seemed startled then.
"Don't try to move, I'll... I'll see if I can get a medic soon"
She petitioned; it wouldn't be odd if Kara found out she was peeing blood after the encounter. Just how many times could she keep doing those kind of things and live to tell the tale? The halfling was still pale from the memory, though she looked like she was already far past crying over it.
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Post by moralhazard on Apr 6, 2019 4:42:57 GMT
“Papa!” The moment she saw her father, Kara forgot that she was fourteen, practically a woman grown, and a guardsman in training. She leapt forward and he caught her, spinning her around off the ground as Kara shrieked with delight, before pulling her close to his chest and planting a kiss on her forehead.
Kara wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, tightly.
“My little Kara,” Petrus smiled down at her, one hand resting on her hair. “Come – you must be hungry. I remember my trainee days – I could always have eaten twice the rations.”
Kara laughed and nodded, trying to pretend that tears weren’t stinging at the corners of her eyes. “Mama?” She asked.
“She sends her love, my heart,” Petrus said. “They’re before a magistrate today, her entire squad, otherwise she wouldn’t have missed you for the world,” he cupped her cheek with one hand, stroking it with his thumb.
Kara nodded. “How are Grigor and Kosef?”
Petrus grinned. “What, all the news at once?” He led Kara into the tavern nearby, taking a seat. The room was full of guardsmen, some in uniform and some out of it, with Stone Shields insignia mounted on the walls, next to tributes to fallen colleagues.
“Yes!” Kara grinned at him.
“Well then!” Petrus raised a hand for the waitress, ordering them both a full meal and a tankard of ale each. Kara was wide-eyed, and Petrus winked at her. “Kosef is doing well at the temple. I never thought a son of mine would be a cleric, but, then, I suppose we all serve Helm in one way or another,” he grinned at Kara, who nodded. “Grigor is well. Returning from leave this week, in fact, despite little Natali at home.”
“She must be getting so big now,” Kara squirmed. “Next leave day I’ll go and visit them.”
Petrus smiled. “Zora will be glad to see you also. She misses her work nearly as much as Grigor did.”
Kara grinned. "She's such a good fighter! Especially with her sword."
The food came before long, and Kara ate hungrily, devouring the beet soup before falling onto the chicken and heavy spiced grains with a devoted passion. She tried the ale as well, with Petrus watching, and coughed, once, before swallowing the first mouthful.
Petrus roared with laughter. “There you go! Go on, try again.”
“Yes Papa,” Kara steeled herself and took another drink. This one went down more smoothly.
“So then,” when Kara’s plate was more than half-empty and the speed at which she was shoving food into her mouth had slowed, Petrus set his own tankard down. “How is your training going, my heart?”
Kara had been about to take another bite of food. She hesitated, setting her fork down, looking at her plate then up at her father. “It’s – going well, Papa.”
Petrus raised an eyebrow.
“It’s hard,” Kara swallowed, hard. “I – I’m smaller than everyone. In the practice courts, they can – I can’t – I go down a lot. I thought I knew what I was doing, from training with Kosef and Grigor, but…”
"So you want to give up?" Petrus asked, raising an eyebrow. "It's too much?"
Kara shook her head, frowning.
Petrus was grinning now, studying her across the table. "It's all right. Your mother's cousin is a seamstress - we could find you a nice apprenticeship with her, perhaps?"
"No!" Kara scowled at him.
"Ah, well then," Petrus couldn't contain the deep chuckle that broke in his chest. "Perhaps my nephew - you remember, Ivan, the one with the candle-making business. He has been telling me how hard it is to find good help, surely he would take you as an apprentice - "
"No!" Kara was laughing now as well. "No, Papa, I want to be a guard. I can do it!"
Petrus smiled. “So you will fall. And when has that ever been enough to stop you?” He reached across the table, setting his hand on hers and squeezing. “You will never be large, my dearest. I am not, and you’ve nearly reached your mother’s height already. I have never once seen it stop her.”
Kara took a deep breath, nodding. “I know, Papa. I know! It won't stop me either. Only I – I’m sick of being on the ground.”
“Then,” Petrus said, smiling at her, “you should learn to get up quickly.”
Kara opened her eyes. For a moment, there was no pain; then it swept through her, a hard throbbing in her face, heat and hurting where she’d been torn open by the cleaver, and a duller but no less miserable hurt between her legs. She shuddered, once, and didn’t try to fight feeling it. There was pain; she could do nothing about that. She could only let herself feel it, and let it guide her. Kara turned her head slightly to look at the halfling. Pain lanced through her face, and Kara realized she had only one eye open, when she had thought there were two. She raised one hand to touch her face, and found thick, heavy bandages wrapping half her head. Touching them hurt – really hurt. There was nothing she could do now, Kara thought. She would just have to hope the damage wasn’t to the eye itself. Kara ignored the woman’s advice, pulling herself up to a sitting position with a soft grunt. She was well-bandaged, across her torso and shoulder where the cleaver had struck her. The bandages didn’t stop the motion from sending red-hot heat and pain through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, head giving a slight shake automatically, and a pounding like fire blossomed in her head, strong enough that Kara thought she might vomit. She shuddered, bending forward slightly to a position that eased the hurt in her stomach, and took deep, slow breaths, keeping still now. The hand not attached to a shoulder which felt like so much dog meat fisted in the blankets, gripping them tightly until the waves of pain and nausea subsided, leaving only the dull ache once more. Kara tried to speak, but it was hard to force air through a too-dry throat. She ould taste blood and bile both in her mouth, and her tongue felt strange and thick. Thirst, she decided. After so much blood loss it was always thirst. She would have looked around for some water, but she thought the effort would make her vomit. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, not ready to try getting up yet. She could at least move the bandaged covered eye; Kara hoped that was a good sign. Slowly, carefully, and even more slowly, Kara turned her head to look at the halfling woman again. "I’ll be fine,” Kara’s voice sounded like it came from a stranger, deep, scratchy and hoarse, but she forced the words out. |
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Post by Malakbel on Apr 8, 2019 20:10:25 GMT
The haflings face was a poem, one written about concern and disbelief at the attitude Kara was showing in regards to her bodily health. She certainly hoped she would be alright, but after seeing her so mangled up, she doubted it. At that particular point in time the halfing would settle for Kara being able to live the rest of her life without permanent damage, or something along those lines.
"Please don't move"
She repeated, worried, her lip trembled a little bit and she instinctively hunched forward as if to reach Kara, when she ceased her attempts to get up.
"I sent Sofia to get a medic, just wait until she arrives."
She practically begged her, there was guilt in the hafling's eyes then too. Her mouth was slightly open as if she was about to say something that took her quite a while to say in the end.
"... Why did you do that? Why did you stand up to him, do you want to die?"
Her voice wasn't breaking up but there was an underlying sadness, guilt, and anger to it that was palpable, perfectible clear through her choice of words and intonation. At times it seemed like the strongest emotion was sadness, then it shifted to guilt, then to anger, and so it switched, as if she didn't really know what to feel about Kara then.
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