RP:Dragging the Cat Back In

Part of the The White Hunt Arc

Summary:

Hunter's Lodge

Linn came trudging through the snow covered paths of the woods, a leather hood and gas mask complementing his mithril armor to shield his entire body from the cold winds and blowing snow. He carried the leather pack that contained all the supplies and materials that he had to his name, though in spite of all the weight he didn’t really notice it. This time through the woods a lodge off to the sides managed to catch his attention that he slowly walked into, surveying the site to find any signs of life in it. Once the blowing snow had died down he removed the mask to reveal his face, shaking his head a bit to reorient himself and taking a breath of fresh air. It seemed suspicious how empty this place seemed for how well maintained it was, “Anyone here?” he called out just loud enough for it to carry to the perimeter.

Orikahn comes trudging out of the woods, panting considerably and dragging what looks like a freshly felled bough behind him, its needles still green. The sabercat is dressed in furs that bear several tears and several more hasty patches and stitches. He staggers a little as he walks. Pulling out a stone-headed hatchet, he waves tiredly to Linn before kneeling beside the woodpile, using an already battered log section as a work surface as he begins dismembering the young branches.

Linn, seeing the hunter from Frostmaw all the way out here moves over to meet him. The unsteadiness to his walk and the tears in the furs were somewhat concerning, though the cat’s ability to keep working regardless stayed any thoughts that the situation was too dire. The enchanter eyes the tears and stitches carefully, looking for any red that would signal blood and wounds under the furs. Seeing the work being done he looks around the lodge again before turning back to the hunter, “So, is this your place?”

Orikahn nods and turns his head away from the human to spit out a mouthful of foamy saliva. "Yes," he answers between hatchet blows, sounding as winded as he looks. Examining his clothes, Linn will find a spectrum of reds from bright crimson to rust to black. A couple spots on his back seem to be the worst, as they seep weepy black stains. "Put it up," Kahn goes on as he adjusts his workpiece, "a bit ago. Warm inside." The cat gestures over his own shoulder at the doorflap, thumbing toward the lodge's entrance.

Linn’s breathing tightened as he saw the signs of newer wounds on the hunter’s clothing, finishing with a sharp intake seeing the glossy darkness that was on his back. It was hard to tell if it was blood, ichor, or something else at this point, but he knew that some wounds cut by the things further west went deeper than the physical. The panting only reinforced everything. With a small glance towards the lodge he gave a slight nod. “Looks nice” was all he could voice through the growing concern. Looking back he decided he’d press the issue. “You look a bit worse for wear, what happened out there?”

Orikahn tears the branch apart at its weakened forks, having battered it enough. "Yes," the cat agrees again, though somewhat vaguely as he begins to gather up the fresh wood into an armful. "Fell in with," his words cut off, and he spits another mouthful of stringy phlegm into the snow, "some undead. The graveyard." He points west. "The ruins." He plucks up a dry log and throws it on top of his armful, then begins trudging his way toward the lodge. "Must head in. You're welcome, too. It's cold."

Linn blinks and sighs at the mention of more undead, nodding in recognition of the ruins. This wasn’t going to be anything good. Seeing the hunter beginning to get some of the wood together he got up to grab some himself, if just so that he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping that much wood together at once. With a nod of agreement he followed the cat into the lodge, setting down the logs wherever they were needed. Once the two had made it inside he spoke back up. “You should get those wounds seen to. The spirits certainly did more than just physical damage when I ran into them. The undead may as well do something similar, and who knows what kind of infection might happen from them.” A pause. “How long ago did it happen?”

Orikahn pulls up the flap to allow Linn inside then follows after him. There's already a fire burning in the lodge's firepit, but it's dwindling to embers. The cat unloads, tossing on the dry log, then the springy greens. The sabertooth, with a gentle scowl, sits down cross-legged on the lodge's floor, tossing his pack behind him on the bench, and begins worming out of his fur vest. "Should," he answers with some visible reluctance. With his vest so removed, Linn can now see the extent of the damage. There are plenty of scabbed, clotted scratches across the cat's body; these are the less worrysome wounds. Two deep, festering bites on his back are responsible for the seeping, black fluid. The pitted sores are dotted with ichor-filled boils, some of which have apparently ruptured. The massive feline leans forward with his hands on his knees, elbows outward, and bows his head, soaking in the warmth just in time for shivers to consume him. By now, the embers are sending flames up around the log to catch and lick at the green branches, and thick lines of smoke begin curling up to the lodge's pointed top, filling the interior with the strong scent of pine. Sap boils and hisses out.

Linn places down the logs in a convenient location out of the way of everyone, but close enough to retrieve a log. Many of the scabs he just glanced over before circling around to see what that black was coming from, breathing a sharp, pained sigh at what the damage was. “You will” came a sudden command in response. As if to explain himself he took off the large mithril plates covering his torso which came free without needing to undo any buckles or straps. After putting them over the fire to melt the frost and bring out their reflective nature he set one in front of the hunter, circling around his back to hold the other up as a second mirror to reveal the hunter’s back in the first. “Those kinds of wounds are only going to get worse. We need to get you back to Frostmaw now.” The concern in his voice had vanished, replaced with urgency. Already he was looking around for a way to get the cat back if the cold got to him too much.

Orikahn shivers violently for a few moments, just long enough for the frost to melt off Linn's armor before, with some reluctance, he raises a hazy stare up to the reflective plates. His nose wrinkles. "Can't be as bad," his eyes squint shut as another volley of shudders begins to rattle through him, "it looks..." Trailing off, the great furry behemoth dissolves into shivers again, and his eyes pull blearily shut. Whether it's fever delirium or plain stubborn pride, the cat doesn't seem very persuaded. His fingers dig into his calves as he tenses and grips, as if to hold himself to the earth.

Linn just shakes his head behind Orikahn’s back and walks right back out of the lodge. He was going to have to drag an unconscious cat out it looks like, might as well get ready for it. Once outside he circles around a bit until he found some of the larger hides, finding one of a yeti. A quick examination would reveal it to be tough and thick, perfect for the worst-case scenario. With a slight ‘hah’ muttered under his breath he took it down from the tanning rack to come back in with it draped over his shoulders. Wordlessly he threw it over one of the benches before retrieving the plates to his armor, keeping one of them on hand while he went to his pack and rummaged through it for a bit, finding a large chunk of milky quartz that he broke a decently sized chunk off of before returning the rest. Setting the plate down in front of him on the floor he put the chunk in the center of the plate to draw a strange violet crystal from a pouch on his side. “Isn’t about now, it’s about later” was all he said as he worked. Closing his fist around the crystal a bright blue veil of force seeped out from through his fingers and enclosed his hand before he began to hammer away at the quartz, crushing it against the hard mithril of his armor.

Orikahn doesn't seem very alert or aware as Linn moves about and works. In fact, he doesn't respond at all until the spellblade begins pounding on the quarts. Kahn flinches with a grimace, and his ears flatten back against his head. What was that pounding, now? It compounds the pounding in his head. Pressing the flat of his pawlike palm to his forehead, the cat wrinkles his maw in a snarl, revealing a mouthful of fangs, and his shoulders hunch tensely. "Peace and quiet." The cat requests through clenched teeth, and he peeks one eye open, sliding his gaze over to Linn in a sort of hazy condemnation.

Linn just kept working, if the cat was going to try getting up to stop him in the state he was it probably wouldn’t get anywhere. “That peace and quiet is going to go on much longer than you’d like if I give it now” he retorted with another blow against the quartz. The strikes picked up their pace as it became progressively more crushed, ceasing for a few seconds every now and then to inspect the progress. Soon they’d stop completely, a pile of what would look like pearly white sand resting in the armor.

Orikahn flinches, hunching lower and grimacing deeper with every strike, fingers flexing to unsheathe his claws. He speaks in a rumbling growl. "Can't," flinch, "you," grimace, "stop," veiny temple throb, "that," overt, bloodshot stare, "pounding!?" Linn is trying the very last of the wounded cat's patience, and as the last hammerblows fall, Orikahn stands, drawing up to his full height and looking terribly ferocious indeed, standing lit from below in the firelight with claws and fangs exposed. For a moment, he hovers this way, posed like a stuffed bear in a tavern before his vision reels, his eyes roll back, and he stumbles, falling to one knee before slumping forward face first on the hide floor. It looks like the cat's undue rage has taken the last of his strength, or perhaps he stood up too quickly. Most likely both.

Linn gave a guarded glance to the cat as he rose, continuing his hammering with eyes fixed on the potential interruption. A small pause as the hunter fell forward with a crash, only to be met with a sigh and a disapproving shake of the head. Finding his work complete he spreads the troll hide out with the fur facing downwards, grabbing the sandy material to sprinkle it over the leathery surface. With a slow wave of his hand over the surface he flipped it back over, sending it sliding near the unconscious cat before putting his armor back on. The fur was probably going to be ruined by the blood and… whatever it was coming out of the hunter’s back, but he can hunt another one once everything’s said and done. Walking over to the hunter he grabs at the feline’s shoulders to drag him onto the fur, his weight requiring quite the effort from the man’s legs. Thank god he didn’t have to carry this guy out of here… With that done, he put out the fire to pick up his pack, throw on the mask and hood, and grab a hold of the hide to begin dragging his newfound patient back to town where a real healer could do something.

Along the Cliff

Orikahn has no real opportunity to object. With a low groan, he simply lays where he's been flopped. As Linn drags him, several expressions pass over the feline's face, but if his eyes ever open, it is only briefly and with unseeing gaze. More than once, the cat moves his arms to begin sitting up or to try and roll himself over, but he only ends up managing to brush some of the falling snow off his face. It must be a strange sight to see the two, one dragging and one being dragged, a pair of lone souls in the broad wilderness. The walk back to Frostmaw is long, and soon the spellblade finds himself on the narrow cliffs of the mountainside passes.

Linn takes a quick look down at the groaning cat before they finally departed, taking the vest that had kept him warm to drape over him for the journey. All things considered the man dragged his haul along with surprising ease, short of careful movement to make sure the two were sticking together he didn’t show any signs that he had to pull very hard. Once they made it to the cliff however he stopped, knowing his little sliding tricks could very easily cause them to slip right over the cliff face and down to a much more certain death. He could easily pick it back up once they had made it past, but dragging someone as big as Orikahn across a narrow ledge would prove to be a challenge. Comparing how wide everything was the man cursed. This was going to be dangerous. He left the hunter where he lay briefly to chart out a solution to the precarious edge, taking careful note of the slope of the ground and any breaks or holes in the path that would require more work.

Orikahn has quieted down and is back in one of his shivering fits again. While Linn scouts ahead, he finds the path in surprisingly passable condition. Though the cliffs are uncomfortably narrow at some points, things never get so tight that the cat's shoulders won't fit by. All in all, it's a quick, easy piece of recon. Things don't seem the least bit vexing, at least, not until Linn returns to his delirious companion. There, tugging one corner of the trollskin, is a snowflake imp. Comically rotund and white as frost on a windowpane, the imp hovers on a pair of diminutive, batlike wings that flap and strain with hurried, struggling wingbeats, as though it can barely keep the gnome-sized imp afloat. His clawed fingers are balled in little fists, tightly gripping the hide's edge as he pulls, one tug at a time, inching the unconscious sabercat closer, and closer, and closer to toppling over the cliffside.

Linn, with a turn of his head back to Kahn from the edge of the cliff traces the risen corner of the hide right up to the snowflake imp before immediately dashing his way back across the precarious edge. Drawing another gem from one of the pouches on his belt he lobs it over to the imp before it shoots downward the moment it was above the hide, pinning the corner it was dragging right back to the stone underneath. The focus required to keep the cat was costly though, the enchanter’s foot finding empty air on one of its steps immediately afterwards. With a fall forward and a nasty bump of the forehead on stone he skidded over the side of the cliff, hands grabbing at the sheer face before finally sticking and slowing him to a stop maybe ten feet below where he was. He glared upward at the imp from his spot on the wall, taking another stone and throwing it upwards directly at it where it accelerated rapidly, streaking right through it at incredible speed. It wasn’t a fatal blow, but it hurt enough to make the enchanter the most immediate threat. Already he was clawing his way back up much like a gecko would, hands and feet firmly stuck to the sheer face as he went.

The imp tugs, and with audible strain pulls against the stone that's pinned the hide in place. Confused, it scratches its head, then tugs again harder than before. Doesn't budge. Scratching it's head, the little devil flutters down to examine the cause of his impediment. Just as the imp is reaching out to try and pluck the stone, a sharp whistling sound catches its ears, and it doesn't even have time to perk up before Linn's hurled pebble strikes the vexing gremlin square in the buttcheek. It howls and clenches the spot, shooting ten feet straight into the air and hovering there to spin around and examine the blue welt raising on it's otherwise white rump. Linn will doubtlessly hear it's little voice hurling curses in some foul, abyssal tongue, and soon it's fluttering down to hover just out of the spellblade's reach. Curses turn into tittering cackles as it sees him climbing, for the imp seems to have an idea. It flits away up the cliff, vanishing (for now) from sight.

The imp thought it was out of range, but as it fluttered just above Linn’s hands he reached into the pouch at his side, drawing the violet crystal again with a very frustrated poker face. The imp looked just a little confused before realizing another stone was coming his way, or so it seemed. The blue veil of force that the enchanter had used to hammer the quartz into powder proved much more than what he had shown. It sprung beyond his reach to catch the imp’s foot in the strange aura, provoking a scream of pain from the crushing force that held onto it. In a fury he began to bash the imp against the wall, the blue light crawling further up the leg to get a better grip against the body of the would-be trickster as he continued to bash its head repeatedly into the hardened stone before throwing him straight downwards. Pocketing the crystal immediately he scrambled back up to rendezvous with the hunter, sitting down and panting for a bit from the effort of the climbing and the thrashing.

Orikahn hardly stirs and only manages to shiver while Linn and the imp have it out. With each bash, the little fallen cherub squeaks and whimpers, smashing nearly flat with the force of each blow and then, bruised black and blue, it tumbles down, spinning and cursing vehemently as it falls, eventually disappearing through a bank of fog hundreds of feet below. Looks as though Linn's path is clear.

Linn takes a few rapid, deep breaths as the adrenaline works its way back out of his system. With a look over at the shivering hunter and one last audible deep sigh he gets back up with another glance over the cliff. Well, he’d have to be careful, but it was doable. Retrieving the stone that he had used to pin the hide he began to pull the hunter along the cliff with a similar ease as he went down the path, though as they went across the narrower sections signs of effort finally made their way into his stance as he relented on allowing the makeshift sled to freely slip across the ground. Once everything opened back up and they didn’t have to worry about a free-fall several hundred feet long he reactivated the enchantment and began making his way to the city with renewed haste, the snow serving to soften the surface that the hunter was pulled along underneath the hide.

Western Frostmaw Gates

Orikahn cannot yet express gratitude (or disdain) for Linn's selfless rescue, but nonetheless, the two are soon away from the cliffs. After what feels like a very long walk, they are across the open tundra. Out of the dimness and gloom of the snow-clouded air, the western gates of the city finally emerge.

Linn just kept walking forward with the hunter behind him. As they made it to the gates he looked up to the guards before taking his mask off to reveal who he was. With a nod towards the cat he spoke up. “He’s wounded and his condition is worsening, need a healer immediately” came the urgent, serious voice. Seeing the Hunter of Frostmaw the guards opened the gates and escorted them into the city, one of them accompanying the two to the fort where Kahn would be given a room and seen to by the healers to stem the infections and cure whatever unwholesome wounds had been inflicted on him. It wasn’t exactly dignified dragging him through the city on a yeti’s hide, but it got them there quickly. Questions flew as to the nature of the wounds which he answered the best he could. “Undead, looks like infected bites. Anything more you will have to have a priest see to him.” The pustules and pits in the hunter’s back answered any further questions on his condition.

Orikahn is the subject of much recognition and buzzing discussion for a few moments, but Linn's simple testimony is enough to settle most speculation. In no time, there are frost giants, their shirts bearing the city seal, arriving to bear the hunter away. "The city gives its thanks." One of them calls down to Linn in a booming voice. He narrows his eyes in scrutiny, attempting to recall the man's name. "I've seen you around before," the giant remarks as he gingerly hoists the cat (surely on the seventh or eighth of his nine lives by now) onto a more proper gurney. "What's your name? There's often a reward in store for those who help the city."

Linn looks up to the giants with a nod and watches them pick up the hunter with much more ease than he ever would be able to. As he is addressed again with recognition he just cracks a weak smile. “It’s Linn. Make sure he’s tended to first though” he finished with a nod towards the hunter being carried off by another pair of giants. Rubbing his forehead a bit he winces, a bruised welt having formed while he was focused on getting Kahn to safety. “I’ll be fine. Could use something for bruising first before any other rewards right now though.” He chuckled at his own condition that may as well have been a joke compared to some of the other things that have happened out west.