RP:A Guard and a Refugee

Characters: Eliason, Josleen

Synopsis: During the raid on Venturil, many fled the city and ran for the nearby town of Chartsend. Among the refugees was a half-elf named Josleen, who would likely have lost her life if it were not for a brave legionnaire named Collin Eliason.

Entrance to Chartsend

Eliason stands at attention outside of the Chartsend clinic. It has been a long, uneventful week and the legionnaire finds his mind drifting back over the past few months. The last leg of his voyage had seen fairly smooth sailing and swift movement across the sea. He had made his first steps into the lands of Hollow through the docks in Chartsend. The man can remember the excitement coursing through him at finally reaching his destination. The was finally standing on the land that he had dreamed of. Now to find the destiny promised to him... The legionnaire's thoughts are broken by a cry from the north near the entrance to Chartsend. Turning his sapphire gaze in that direction, he sees a stream of bedraggled people streaming into the city. His instinct is to rush over and see what has happened, but he cannot leave his post without permission. Silently cursing his low status he watches helplessly as the people pour through the gates and stand about the entrance square pitifully.

Josleen runs in the middle of the stampede, trying her hardest not to be pushed to the edges of the mob where she would be vulnerable to further attack. Unfortunately, she is not the only panicked refugee with this survival plan, and she often finds herself clawed and groped by strangers who try to stick to the middle of the group. All eyes flicker between two points: the smoke of the burning city of Venturil behind them, and the promise of protection in the port town of Chartsend. The half-elf runs barefoot. The early morning attack caught her before waking life did, and there was no time to accomodate footwear. Indeed, no time to accomodate proper clothing. She, like so many of the refugees around her, flees in an evening gown, tattered and burned but still intact. She sports a few scrapes and cuts, but her bare feet which have run over shattered glass, dry brush, and debris have bourne the brunt of her injury and is starting to affect her mobility. "HELP ME!" She screams at the sentry as they come into view, her voice drowned out by the echo of similar shouts. Her panicked, brown doe eyes lock on the nearest legionnaire's sapphire gaze. Incredulity strickens her gaze. Doubt and despair flash across her face as she realizes he won't help her. Just as her eyes lock on his, her foot gets caught on a turned-up root and she falls hard, her chin smacking with a crack on the ground, her stare jerked violently away from his. Behind the pack, the horn of the raiders sounds and in the far distance, the enemy begins to chase the refugees destined for Chartsend.

Eliason's eyes meet those of the girl's, softening at the sight of her desperation and terror. Orders and conscious rage a silent battle within him as the girl's cries assault his ears. In the stress of the moment, time seems to slow and every little detail stands out boldly. He can see the way the girl limps with the injuries to her feet, the way she is struggling to keep up with the crowd, the way her eyes call out to him, begging for help. The sound of the enemy's call steals his attention for a moment, but he soon returns his eyes to the crowd to find that the girl has disappeared. It is the sound of her face hitting the ground and the subsequent stomping of feet upon her that finally makes the legionnaire's mind up. Pushing himself forward, he lowers his shield and barrels into the crowd of refugees. Using his size and brute strength, he soon finds himself at her side. With a grunt, wraps his arms about her form and unceremoniously hefts her onto his shoulder. It takes all of his considerable strength to fight his way to the edge of the crowd and through the brush to a relatively safe spot at the edge of the wall. Eli gently sets the girl to the ground and spins about in case he has to defend them from any of the enemy forces. He prays that they are close enough to Chartsend that the enemy will not pursue this far.

Josleen suffers a nose bleed, badly scraped chin, and busted lip. She is still conscious, and fighting to stand just as the legionnaire scoops her onto his shoulder. Recognizing him as one of the sentry, she lets her weight sag into him, exhausted from fighting and refusing to fight anymore. She does make an attempt to stymie the shower of blood that pours from her face onto his back, but her cupped hand pools quickly and the blood overflows easily, staining soldier and ground a like. Most of the more intelligent monsters raiding the city know not to approach Chartsend, but the dire wolves and cats who serve those monsters understand little of political geography and close in on the refugees fast. Two wolves advance on the soldier, one leaping up to bite his throat and the other aiming for his hand. Josleen pushes her hands against the ground, sliding her bottom along the edge of the wall to put as much distance between herself and the fight as possible.

The legionnaire does not take the time to assess the girl's wounds. The bleeding is obvious enough, but the sound of her moving backward is enought to tell him that she is alive. The snarl and snap of the wolves' jaws reach the man's ears just before they break through the brush and leap toward him. Counting on his armor to give him at least a modicum of protection, he pushes himself forward instead of retreating from the rabid beasts. The first wolf to reach him catches hold of the legionnaire's hand and rips backward, succeeding only in pulling the ill-fitting gauntlet from his hand. The second is met with the full-fury of an enraged paladin. Catching the beast by its forelegs, Eli pushes its bloody maw away from his face and flings it to the ground. He slips a dagger from his belt and throws himself on top of the beast, hoping to kill it before the other realizes that it doesn't have ahold of any flesh.

Josleen stops short just as the first wolf rips past her with only a gauntlet to show for its efforts. She clambors onto her feet, using the wall for support, wide eyes glued to the black wolf. The second wolf takes a dagger to the shoulder as the soldier courageously pounces on him. The wolf howls out his location, imploring his kin for help. Luckily for the legionnaire, his howl is drowned out but the screams of the panicked, the howls and hisses of other creatures falling under siege from other Chartsend sentry, and the war cries of the legionnaire's bretheren. No aid comes to the wolf who is vulnerable to a fatal blow and is soon conquered. The first wolf has turned his gaze on Josleen, relishing her fear as his snarls keep her pinned to the wall. It's a game of initiative, and the predator awaits his prey's choice in path so he may more easily intercept it. Josleen hopes for the opposite - a path chosen so she may more easily flee it. In this game of will, the frightened have less patience than the over-powered predator, and Josleen makes the mistake of running first, though wisely towards her savior.

Eliason pushes himself quickly to his feet, spinning his large frame around in time to see the girl try to run his direction. His eyes move toward the wolf, noting the bunching of its muscles as it prepares to pursue. The legionnaire know instinctively that the girl will not make it and he cannot reach the wolf in time. The creature crouches low and springs toward Josleen as soon as her back is to it. Eli's sapphire gaze latches onto the girls in dismay. "Get down!" he calls out, taking a single step and launching himself into the air in a risky gamble. If she does not duck, the man will crush her with his heavy frame. If she does, he will meet the beast midair and continue his struggle against it.

Josleen cannot hear Eliason over the din of chaos, but his expression communicates even louder than his words. She guesses his plan as his muscles tense and she flattens against the ground, the soil caking against her bloody face, the taste of earth, sweat and blood mingling on her lips. The wolf lands with a thud on his back, upheaved by the heavily armored, large soldier. Although it's bottom legs are pinned, its neck and front paws remain relatively free. Using its paws to try and steady the soldier's head, the beast tries to bite off the Legonnaire's face! Josleen scrambles onto her bloody feet and attempts to flag down another soldier for help, limping towards the mass of people, but her intentions remain unseen by those focused on their immediate survival. The mob swallows her up, and a well-intentioned warrior hefts her over his shoulder. Terror-stricken, she pounds on the soldier's back and screams, "HELP HIM! HELP HIM!" The sentry confuses her screams and incessant pounding for panic, shock, delirium, anything but a coherent will. The battle between the legionnaire and dire wolf fade behind a sea of people, but her startled gaze clings to the pair until her view is obstructed by the sentry wall of Chartsend.

Eliason thanks the Gods as the girl falls to the ground just he sails over her. The meeting of the wolf and the legionnaire is unmistakable as the wolf yelps out in pain and fury. The air is momentarily knocked out of the man when the two fall to the dirt in a pile of gnashing teeth, heavy steel, and bloodied fur. With little room for motion, the man simply wraps his arms about the great beast and squeezes with all of his might. He can see the snapping jaws nearing his face, but is unable to do much but duck his head to minimize the exposure to his face. Sharp fangs rips into the the flesh of his scalp just before the great dog's bones can be heard cracking under the strength of his arms. With a last dying whimper, the beast shudders and finally lies still. Eli rolls off of the creature and onto his back, breathing heavily and not quite yet cognizant of the deep wounds on his head.

Josleen is taken to an over-crowded medical facility where healers fuss over her wounds and lay healing hands on her. "He's out there!" she screams at her caretakers. "Someone has to go back for him!" The shush her kindly, though condescendingly, trying to calm her as the stop her bleeding and bandage her feet. They reassure her that it will be aright, that they will find whoever he is, that the soldiers take care of everyone. "No no, he is a soldier!" In that case, they console, he will be fine. The shouting outside changes in tenor. Few monsters followed the first few scouts. The raid is clearly focused on Venturil, and the battle at Chartsend lulls for now. Still, the wave of refugees does not slow. Indeed, it grows. The city is emptying. After given some footwear, Josleen offers to give up a bed to one of the more badly wounded. Although instructed to wait in the main halls of legionnaire strongholds, the half-elf finds herself re-entering the chaos outside. Within these walls, the greatest danger is the panicked behavior of the displaced and frightened, a threat easily handled by the legionnaires who safeguard Chartsend. The chaos affords her cover as she works her way back towards the entrance of Chartsend, always on the look out for her rescuer in case he made it back to the keep. Should she not find him, sticking close to the exterior of the wall, she returns to where the battle with the wolves occured, hoping to find him.

Eliason lies still for several minutes, trying to catch his breath. He is absently aware now of a throbbing pain just above his hairline and the flow of blood past his ear. With a heavy groan, he rolls over and pushes himself to his feet. Rivulets of blood stream down his face as he looks about for the girl. Of course, she is nowhere to be seen, causing panic to rise within him. Eli pushes any thoughts of his own wounds aside and crashes his way through the brush to the town's entrance. His eyes desperately search the chaos for signs of the girl. Gritting his teeth against a sudden wave of nausea, leans against a wall before roughly pushing himself onward. "Where is she... did she come in here?" The other guards and legionnaires, of course, have no idea who Eli is speaking of, but are quick to try to usher him to the clinic. He swats their helping hands away angrily and straightens himself. As strong willed as the soldier is, he is no match for the loss of blood from the deep wound he has sustained. His searching eyes finally glaze over and he slumps to the dirt, unconscious.

Josleen comes across the bloody legionnaire surrounded by his comrades who are in the process of lifting him. She sprints over as fast as she can, which in her current condition, isn't very fast at all and is hampered by the remnants of a limp. Healing magic is efficient but not perfect, and she still winces against the pain that shoots up from her bandaged feet. The half-elf holds out a hand hesitantly, protectively, unsure of what she could possibly do but politely making no contact. "Can any of you heal?" The soldiers shake their heads, lacking a paladin among the three of them. One holds the fallen legionnaire under his arms, the other two take a thigh each. Josleen keeps pace at her rescuer's head. Accustomed to marching, the soldier's footfalls creating a consistent, loud rhythm against the ground. Identifying the beat's tempo, the bard snaps a melody with her fingers and sings a song of healing. Given the crude substitute for an instrument, and her weak skills as a magic-user, at most Josleen is able to rouse the fallen soldier from his unconscious state. She is unable to stop the bleeding, and pain management is minimal. On the pain scale from 1 to 10, she can lower the pain no more than one point. Perhaps he was better off unconscious.

Eliason groans as his body is hefted upward by the guardsmen. Still at the edges of conscious, he deliriously begins rambling about having to find the girl. Throbs of pain wash through him with each step of the guard's booted feet, though he is barely conscious of it. Perhaps it is his wound, or perhaps something else, but he is suddenly jolted to consciousness. Luckily, the guards are strong enough to keep the big man from pulling himself free of their grasp until he is calm enough to look about. Sapphire eyes finally come to rest upon the girl, filling with relief at the sight of her. Weakly he is able to croak out a few words before he placed on a table in the makeshift clinic... "You're okay..." With that, he promptly passes out once more.

Josleen has no choice but to acknowledge that she is the worst healer in the room right now (and possibly always). As such, she assumes her station and role as emotional support and nothing more. She stays by the legionnaire's side as more skilled healers tend to him with a combination of physical and magical healing skills. They sew the two deepest claw marks shut with 11 stitches per gash. A little bit of healing magic and salve should keep it from scarring too badly, but it's tough to say at this point. The healers do not try to rouse the soldier to consciousness, explaining to the half-elf that his body needs the rest. They ask her to leave, but she refuses, making herself as small as possible in a chair beside the soldier. She rests her heels on the edge of the chair and hugs her knees to her chest. Despite attempts to stay alert for his sake, the chaotic morning takes its toll and she falls asleep uncomfortably in the chair.

Eliason is fully unconscious during the procedure. Violent dreams rip through his mind in his sleep though the only sign to the waking would be an occasional twitch and downward curve of the man's lips. Visions of badraggled refugees dying before him as he is unable to help rip mercilessly through his psyche, leaving him trembling and scared within his mind. As the girl falls to sleep at his side, the legionnaire's lips would begin to move in unconscious prayers, the words of his faith uttering forth automatically. A light glow would emanate unnoticed from his wounds for several minutes and his rest would become more peaceful as time passes. Perhaps an hour passes before the legionnaire's eyes would flutter softly and drift open, a light groan escaping his lips.

Josleen stirred in her sleep. Her position was a difficult and uncomfortable one to maintain. One leg stretched out against the ground for balance, the opposite knee knocked against the side of the bed. Her head lulled against the soldier's outer thigh, adhering to him through a bit of droll. Her bedhead turned raid head turned bedhead again sprawled over the opposite side of her face and shoulder. A pointy elf ear poked out amidst the messy, raven strands. The soldier's groans and rousing does little to wake this heavy sleeper. Whatever dreams played behind her lids remain a secret, her sleep to heavy for her own nightmares to move her. What trauma she suffers in sleep as a consequence of the raid is veiled by muscle exhaustion of a caliber foreign to the non-warrior.

Eliason lies still, allowing the memories within his mind to slowly separate themselves from the dreams that had plagued his sleep. The healing provided to the legionnaire through his own prayers and those of the paladins about the clinic has left him with little pain, though his muscles are cramped with exhaustion. The touch of the girl's head upon his thigh causes the man to lift his own head and look down. A laugh of relief escapes him at the sight of Josleen and he cannot help but lower his head back and chuckle deeply. The action is healing in itself, but also highly inappropriate for the situation. Finally taking a deep breath and drawing in his roiling emotions, Eli pushes himself into a sitting position and reaches a gentle hand to touch the girl's shoulder.

Josleen startles awake as the soldier sits up and reaches for her shoulder. She pushes quickly and harshly away from the bed, her fight or flight instinct always favoring flight. She nearly pushes herself out of the chair, but a quick grip on reality reassures her that she is safe, and she grabs onto the edge of the bed to steady herself. A deep breath calms her further, and at last she turns large brown eyes up at the legionnaire in a smile. Her slight frame, girly sleeping gown, and the bandage on her chin indeed combine to give her the effect of a young teenager, but awake, up close, and alert, her 25 years show, albeit a rather peaceful 25 years. No raids prior to this one, nor famine, pestilence, abject poverty or disease have affected her expression. She wears the knowing, confident look of a fairly comfortable person with typical troubles and worries and nothing more. "Hi." Her eyes search his face for his character for the first time. Where before she searched for indicators of his emotional and physical state, their newfound safety and exit from crisis afford her the time to truly see him. "Thank you."

Eliason jerks his hand back quickly as the girl startles awake. It is good that she catches herself, because his reflexes are not up to par at the moment. As her eyes meet his and search his countenance, Eli finds himself doing the same. He looks past the black streaks of smoke that has stuck to the sweat on her face, the tangled mess of hair upon her head, and the scratches upon her slight frame. Where before, the big man had seen a scared young girl, he now sees a confident young woman that had been in a scary situation. His own young features lift into a smile as she greets him. "Hello..." he responds, his open, honest expression revealed to her. "There is no need for thanks. I am blessed to be able to help..."

Josleen scrunches her nose above an amused, wide grin at his wording. She tastes the word 'blessed', mouthing the syllables but not speaking the word aloud. "That's not what I expected you to say," her grin grows wider as she takes in his smile, a smile which reminds her of another. Suddenly her grin flips. Her lips pull into a tight, pronounced frown and she glances down briefly to hide the expression. Aware of her behavior and the effect it may have on him, she adds quickly through a forced smile, her voice thin, "Better than I expected though." She repeats her silent mouthing of the word 'blessed,' this time without the grin or joy of before. The reality of what she just witnessed stymies their brief foray into happiness. The emotional pain of this morning finally catches up to her, manifesting where suffering always manifests for her - in the jaw and throat. Her teeth clench beneath a frown and a knot chokes off her words. She presses the back of her dirty fingers to her mouth so hard they lose color, and she bites back tears which only causes her to gasp and shudder as she struggles to keep it together. She is not alone. All around them refugees, healers, and soldiers alike mourn losses.

Alicia comes out of The Slippery Eel with Jonas. They are in a jovial mood after a successful scouting trip to the North-West. Both stop in shock at the sight before them. Individuals, unknown to them, sit injured or wander dazed along the road. The less fortunate lie dead next to the corpses of wolves. A few healers tend to the injured with some Guards carrying them to safety. Most Guards and Legionnaires are in shock. Alicia shakes her head. "We are so unprepared, unprepared." Then she pulls herself together, the sight of a mauled child galvanizing her. She yells out, "Enough! I know not what atrocity has taken place but we need to take care of these people. Half the Desert Legionnaires to the City checkpoint, some of you flank it on either side. The other half to the Craughmoyle passage. Secure the town. Chartsend Guard, move those who are severely injured to Gwenilyn's Clinic. Show those who are able where the Meeting Hall is." She waits for a response then yells, "Now!"

She turns to Jonas. "In the absence of Jextar, you have temporary high command. I have confidence in Eliason. If I can find him, then he will lead the Legion, you the Guards. I will take overall command. At the moment, until I know what is happening, the Legion will guard the perimeters of Chartsend while the Guard will take care of the town itself. See what you can find out and where these poor people came from. I will remain here until everyone is settled." As Jonas nods and stoically leaves to carry out her orders, she sighs and sets about helping the newcomers.