RP:A Little More Aid

Location: Labor Camp in the Forest

Synopsis: Eirik returns to bring more aid, and reveal that help is soon coming. He has a plan to get these few out. Npc's by Lanara and Eirik.

A Little More Aid

On the fringe of the Eternal Forest there stands a camp surrounded by ashen trees and necrotic foliage. No animals make their homes here, save the scavengers and beetles. A wall encircles barracks where laborers sleep when they're not working shifts at the various public works projects that benefit the Hard City. Locals say drow used to live here, but they were driven out, and in that battle that killed the forest, one of the two watchtowers and the entrance gate collapsed. The former was never rebuilt, but the latter quickly was. Scowling guards, many bearing anti-mage regalia, stand sentry at the gate and at the remaining watchtower. All visitors must be cleared at the guardhouse, and residents must obey a strict curfew.

Despite the regular ongoings of Larket, Eirik had indeed gotten rid of that chest. He had also gathered more supplies, and pulled his friend Constantine from Schezerades guard duty. The spell blade had always followed the Lycans orders. The gold is also always helpful. “Look,” Eirik eyes Constantine. “This isn’t going to be easy.” A hastily drawn map is laid out on the forest floor before them. A digit points to the drawn exterior wall. “There’s a gap here,” a blown hole in the wall from Kahrans attack. “I need you to bring the supplies through there, while I’m with the guards. They can’t know I’ve brought them. It could jeopardize everything.” Of course Constantine would know the results of being caught by those witch hating guards. He also knew that Eirik would be unable to get him out of it. Things would get hot and turn into a firefight if he was found. It’s dangerous, and even that word couldn't to describe it. “Once you’re inside, I’ll meet you here.” His calloused digit points to an area not too far off. “And take the supplies from you.” The lycans attention flicks back to his hired help. “You’re going to see the real Larket inside of that camp. Don’t let the rumors fool you. It’s far worse.” He’s suddenly serious, but gives him a nod satisfied with the plan. Constantine would be on his own for the next portion of their mission. Instead heavy footsteps take Eirik back to the pathway, and then up to the guards at the gate. They don’t seem to bother the witch-torturer because that’s what they think he is. Again he finds himself rounding a corner, and heading back into the camp where that group he found the other night might still reside - huddled around a fire.

Constantine looked upon the ex-commanders map with mild enthusiasm. They were always hastily drawn things, never precise. Their meeting point could be miles away and he would never know. “Understood.” The spellblade was ready despite the chance they could be caught. That he -could- be pulled away from all that he had sworn too. The bard's in Schezerade were just a plus. He nearly gives into a smile at these thoughts. Once Eirik had taken off, there was work to be done. Hopefully that damned Lycan could actually speak with those witches inside the camp and get them to go along with the plan to get them out. If not, well, he wouldn’t be doing this again. Those supplies, which sit in crates on a cart are pulled through the woods by a horse drawn carriage. He had to take his time, surveying the guards here. He couldn't be seen. Finally when he sees an opening, he ushers his own crew to fall in line, snagging those supplies and heading into the camp through that hole in the wall

Sharna sits on the ground, before a small fire, and still separated from the others. She now was the –only- witch on her side of the chain-link fence, as all of the others were too injured to work, or sick from lack of basic necessities. Poor Eliza had been sleeping for three days straight, since she had last laid her gaze upon the witch hunter. The redhead sighs heavily, and shakes her head. The oil had significantly helped to keep them warm, and though she didn’t understand why Eirik had stuck his neck out for them, she was grateful. The guard on duty wasn’t en masse today, as several were out of town, gathering supplies to fulfill more work orders. This did, however, give the last standing witch a break from her tedious duties of sewing tweed undergarments. One guard stands on the platform, the same one from which the previous guard suddenly disappeared from, though he struggles to keep his eyes open and continuously doses off. He also, wasn’t as abusive as the others, so thank the Goddess for that. Sharna glances around the labor camp, sullen, and wondering how much more of this she could take. Her green hues land on the witch hunter as he rounds the corner, and she purses her lips. Would he be here as a friend or foe, today?

Eirik flicks his gaze over the group that has settled within and then to the guard. “You’re relieved. Go catch a nap. I’ve got work here.” The northman sticks his thumb out and points to the direction of their base. He could go sleep there. After a moment of being startled, he obliges - the witch hunter is here; not many would argue with that. Once he’s gone Eirik moves to Sharna. Silver hues move to look upon her weakened state - though she is still moving. That’s good. He doesn’t want to startle her, but he opens conversations. “You aren’t scared of me?” His tone is low, and riddled with surprise. Last time he had seen her, she actually touched him. Why? The look upon his scar riddled features reveals his puzzled thoughts. Perhaps she is whom he could speak too? “Do you speak for most of those here?” He waves a hand to indicate the slumbering members of the tent.

Constantine keeps his eyes upon the wall, watching those guards while his men move from one shadow to another. This had to be just right. In all, four men, finally sneak through that hole in the wall, and huddle against the other side of that stone surface - waiting in silence. At this point, another guard comes sweeping through the area and Constantine reaches his smooth skinned hand to cover Joseph's mouth. He’s a heavy breather. The whole troup is put on pause here; waiting out this rogue guard who seems to come to a full stop. Shoot, Constantine nearly mutters to himself. How long would he stay? His eyes dart back to the group, raising a single digit to his lips. It’s how he chooses to inform them all before he removes his hand from Joe’s mouth.

Sharna flicks her gaze to the group of women huddled about the fire, and Reagan gives her a small wave, while cradling her broken arm against her stomach. Clearly, the other witches weren’t up to fighting off the witch hunter or guards, any longer. They were eager to get out of this hell, and ninety percent of them didn’t care who they received help from, even if it was the one that had put them here. Eliza wasn’t as forgiving as Sharna and for good reason, as Eliza was the hell raiser of the group. Young and wild with her power, and protective of those she held dear. She also, was the one that had been dished the most abuse, courtesy of her fighting back. As Eirik addresses her, she lifts her head and half-smiles, a knowing look in her eyes. “I’m not afraid of anyone, least of all you, Witch Hunter. The only thing that I fear is karma. Which is why I follow a path of purity. Each of us speaks for ourselves, but I’m kept apart for a few reasons. The first being that I’m the oldest, thus more powerful. The second being that I’m the healthiest, out of those diseased and injured. And the third is because of my gift… I’m a Seer, as you may have guessed from our last interaction. So, tell me, Witch Hunter… Are you a turn-cloak for the sake of redemption? Or has your betrothed changed your view on us witches?” This is all said, matter-of-factly, and she ends her statement with a small smile. Those curious green eyes remain glued to his scarred face, hoping to gain a true answer to her question.

Eirik does not have a good answer for her. Not at the moment and when she delivers those lines, he merely thinks upon them. He’s clearly bothered being here, that much is certain. Nearly on defense for who knows if someone is to reach out and attack him. Even if they were all in such a weakened state. “A turn cloak?” He whispers these words, more to himself than to anyone else. “Lanara has helped with that a lot.” He admits out loud to her. “But there’s more. Even to my shame, I must admit it.” His silver hues switch to the Seer, seeking direct eye contact, despite the swell of emotions he can see and feel. “I have been blessed, by none other than Valrae. At first I thought it a curse.” And there are many people that can attest to the fact he has worded it as such. “She cast a spell on me, when she was captured. Granting me empathy, and forcing me to live through everything I’ve done here.” Sharna would know exactly what he was responsible for. “I have mentally lived through the beatings. The torture. Suffered through the burning of Valrae. I can taste the emotions upon all gathered here.” He closes his eyes and licks his lips settling himself to finish what he has come here for. “I do not seek redemption. It’s not something a man like me deserves.” His words bring forth the swelling of tears. “But I can free you all, and get you out of here as a start.” His hues finally move from Sharna. “I’ve spoken with Hildegarde and secured the Eyries help when they are ready. Right now, I need you and those here to get healthy. A man named Constantine.” Eiriks words are interrupted. “You mean me?” Constantine poked his head in through the tent followed by the others. They bring blankets, food and oil. Things to help them all. “I don’t know how much longer our presence will go undetected Eirik, so the men and I are leaving. There are guards everywhere.” With a simple bow to the witches, the crew is suddenly gone.

Sharna’s eyes widen, significantly, as he mentions the name of his fiancé. Lanara. Not –the- Lanara from Kelvar?! She was but a baby when she last saw that little witch. Her green eyes glisten with tears, as she rises from the stool, a hand pressed to the middle of her back. It was still so sore from being struck by that heavy board. As Eirik answers her question, and mentions Valrae’s curse, which in turn was a blessing, she nods, in understanding. “Sometime’s the karma we think we deserve, is far greater than we can fathom. You had a dish of cruelty served to you, for your misdeeds, yes… But you also were graced with karma’s kiss, in a positive sense. You found love, amidst all the pain and hatred. Perhaps that was your forgiveness? Not from me, or any of the witches you have hurt or killed…But from the grace of the Goddess above. I know not who or what you believe in, but I know that something much larger than you or I, believes in you.” Those enchanting emerald eyes shift to Constantine as he arrives, with a plethora of supplies, and she gives the man a long once over. His features were kind, his tone dutiful, and his demeanor professional. He obviously worked under the command of Eirik, and she watches as the food, oil, and blankets are laid within their confines. This was unexpected, and very welcome. A few of the witches look up, kindness in their eyes, though some still seem uncertain, as if this were another twisted ploy. Sharna gives Constantine a curt nod, and returns her attention to Eirik. “I will no longer refer to you as Witch Killer, as that’s inaccurate. You now will be called, Turn Cloak. It’s more fitting, yes? I will try to boost morale and tend to those that are injured, when I am not being watched like a hawk. Thank you for your help. Be safe… If you and your associate’s are caught aiding us, I don’t imagine it will be taken lightly. And… Do you have an idea on when we will be freed?” Her question is tinged with distaste, as though she couldn’t bear to be held prisoner for another minute.

Eirik steps closer to Sharna, slowly; an act that might be suspect in the eyes of one such as her. Instead, the Lycan offers an extended hand so that she may gaze into his mind. Having realized that she called herself a seer he finally understood why she had reached out to grab him before. He waits for her to take what she wants, to confirm his words. Thinking upon the memory of Yule with Hildegarde and her answer. His private discussion. “There’s more than just food and blankets. There is also the scare of contraband. I went to Yerrel before coming here. There are herbs which you can use to make poultices in secret. To help further.” He thinks upon her title of Turn coat and frowns. He isn’t deserving of it, nor of sympathizer. “I’m just a man searching to start life, for the first time.” Finally Eirik pulls his hand away from the Seer, “I have to meet with Hildegarde and finish the plans. We will only have one shot at this.” His tone of voice is serious. “It will be soon. Only a few more nights. Can you keep these supplies from being discovered before then?” He waits for her answer before offering her, and those here a farewell; taking his leave once more.

Sharna latches onto his hand, though she turns it over, and runs her pointer finger up his life line, pausing near the middle. “You have lived a long time, and you have many more days ahead of you. However… There is another after your heart? But… Not in the same way that Lanara wants your heart.” She reads his palm some more, nodding here, pursing her lips there, and finally she gathers what she needs, and allows him to withdraw his hand. She also, upon touch, had witnessed Queen Hildegarde, and their private discussion. As he fills her in on the herbs, she nods, her green gaze shifting to the rolled up blankets. “Yes. That is most helpful. I’ll get to work straight away, and I can keep them all hidden. You have my word. Be safe and I ‘ll see you in a few days…” She pauses, as he turns away, preparing to take his leave. “… Thank you.”