RP:Mistaken Identity And Medicinal Man-Handling

Synopsis: Hureig is badly injured at the market in Frostmaw, and Lanara just happens to be perusing the wares of the vendors and the two cross paths. The witch heals the frost giant and the two form a fast friendship, until Linn shows up. The enchantor is mistaken for being Emrith, and Hureig aims to put Linn into an early grave. The confusion is eventually discovered, after some bumps and bruises, and all go on their merry way.

Hureig :: Long had Hureig been away from his primary charge, and the time away could be seen from the Market and the giant who hustled from makeshift stall to makeshift stall, from mound of detritus to mound of detritus, and from person to person. Hureig was thin, too thin for the large boulders of rubble, the last remaining remnants of the terrible civil war; he carried from one side of the market to the other. His bare chest was racked with bruises, more fresh than not, though the darkest and most angriest cut into his shoulders and dug bloody divots out of his wrists and his ankles, if the dark stains soaking the hem of his pants were any indication. He worked even though he was weary, and he smiled and laughed despite having the weight of what transpired in Larket on his mind. "Come! Buy!" He hailed at all new arrivals, across the entire plaza if that was the case! "Goods and services! Services and goods! All deals are fair! Come! Buy!"

Lanara is walking along the cobblestone paths, perusing the wares of the Frostmaw market, and pausing before each of the fine fabric stalls. The witch peers at her pad, scribbles something with her quill, and moves on to the next, likely comparing the prices of each of the vendors. Those that knew Lana personally would know that she manages Kreekitaka’s clothing boutique in Cenril, and that she would travel far and wide to find just the right ingredients to make the perfect attire that the designer required. The woman is donning an ankle-length fur coat, and her long brown hair blows freely in the wind, ending at the middle of her back. She is a vision, even with the snow dampening her hair and the cruel weather marring her fancy attire, though she pays little attention to the cat-calls of the men, as she’s here for work, not pleasure. The market had taken a hit, from what her sister had told her, from the civil war, and she frowns slightly as several of those she had done business with in the past, weren’t anywhere in sight. It appears not all lived through the war unscathed. It is with that in mind that she raises her head and her chocolate hues settle on Hureig, curiosity evident in her gaze. The man was bellowing about amazing sales and services, and that, at first, what has her crossing the plaza and nearing the frost giant. However, upon arriving before him, she trails her gaze from his face and gives his body a once over, her expression softening. “How do you expect to do business, when you aren’t taking care of yourself? Your health should be more important than your inventory.”

Hureig was not too weary to not notice the attention of so many fellows. All of their hoots and hollers of what they could do and what they would do to the vision that seemed to float more than walk from stall to stall, as banal and disrespectful as they were, had his rawboned hackles raised. But the beauty incarnate deftly disposed of any power the loose tongues had by ignoring them, and that alone won her respect in the frost giant's mind---and it was good luck that she handled the group, too, for the weakened giant would no doubt lose if he tried to throw them out of the market. "Hullo there!" He called out when Lanara's trajectory had her coming directly for him. He raised his hand with his greeting, and his palm bore the marks of torture as well. "Too true, too true. There is no argument against that," He laughed, he smiled, and he rested his backside on the frost laced boulder. "But, you see, I had no say in the matter. When you are held as a political prisoner in the lowlands, where you are believed to be even less than the dog the guards bring in to piss on you, you must take whatever state they leave you in and smile."

Lanara finds herself faintly smiling in response to his own smile, somewhat shocked that the man evoked such positivity. She could use some of that, herself, she thinks, and she surprises herself by extending a dainty hand. The witch was a mere 5’5” and even though the giant was seated on a boulder, he still towers over her rather slight frame. Still, she didn’t hold the slightest bit of fear or distaste in her gaze as she introduces herself, and lowers her oversized satchel to the ground. “I am Lanara. You may know my sister, Talyara, she resides in Frostmaw. A small cottage, not far from here, which sadly is in the process of being repaired after all that had happened. She tends to fear the giant’s in these parts… But I choose not to fear an individual based on the mere words or actions that another may have endured. It would be like you disliking all elves, for the mere animosity that a single pointy eared tree hugger may have shown to you.” Lana’s voice trails off as her hand remains outstretched, and if Hureig were to give her a full once over, he would realize that she was indeed, an elf, and she was jesting, somewhat. Clearly she thought war to be foolish, and diversity to be the root of all evil, and her stance shows that she would be considered a friend over a foe, on any given day. “I am sorry for what you have been through, and I am a bit of a healer… If you would like, I’d be happy to tend to your wounds.”

Hureig could be beaten, starved, and treated like excrement, but his good nature and his smile could never be broken...or so it would seem. His smile felled by complete horror and his eyes went wide in aghast when the woman offered her name and hand, and he did not reciprocate in a respectable time. "Oh! My apologies, my apologies," He was quick to push himself off the boulder, though the endeavor was slow and torturous, and he teetered when he took a knee before the elven lady. Her hand was taken delicately, and he placed a light kiss upon it before bowing his head. It was a comical sight indeed; he was still a towering hulk even kneeling. "My name is Hureig, loyal servant to Queen Hildegarde who has been tasked with reviving this here marketplace." He rose and fell more than he sat on the boulder as his hand reached up for his brow. "It seems all the time in the lowland heat has made me sweat out all respect and decorum. Let me make it up to you and yours. What does your sister need to rebuild her cottage fully? I will see that she receives it in full."

Lanara feels her smile grow as a chaste kiss is planted upon the back of her hand and the frost giant bows his head and kneels, treating her with far more respect than is necessary. She is quick to respond with a curtsey, as she doesn’t wish to not return the respect, though it seems completely out of place. “Please. There is no need for that. My sister has a few men already working on her abode, but I will see to it that you receive medical attention! No ifs, ands, or buts, about it Mister Hureig. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and I’m very fond of Hildegarde! I haven’t seen her since she’s been revived… It’s been a long time since I’ve really been in Frostmaw, to be honest. The last time I was here… “ Lana’s voice trails off, as though her memories of the snowy lands were causing her pain, and so she distracts herself with sorting through her satchel and peeking up at Hureig every so often to assess his damage. “First, I will deal with the shoulders. I am going to cleanse the wound, numb the flesh, suture it, and then apply some healing salve. I take it that you aren’t one to rest much, so that is probably the best route to go.” The elf continues to chat, mostly about the weather and politics, though she wasn’t paying much attention to exactly what it was she was babbling about, as it was merely a ruse to keep the giant’s mind busy as she worked on his shoulders. Lana’s voice was soft and her tone was soothing, and had she retained her empathic abilities, this would have gone smoother, but she was no longer an empath, and so she had to rely on her sheer intuition now. As she’s tying the last suture on his wound, she leans back and scrutinizes her stitching, making certain that both shoulders were looking similar. “Hm. There is a little more swelling than I would normally like, but I can handle that…” Closing her eyes she mutters an incantation beneath her breath and places a pointer finger on each shoulder, and as Hureig feels a faint humming emanating from her fingertips, he would begin to feel the area freezing over with a thin layer of ice. “There. All better. I will work on your hands next. Those I think will be fine with cleansing the wound and bandaging. Why don’t you wash your hands with some clean snow? I will prepare the dressing.”

Hureig was thoroughly embarrassed when Lanara commanded him to be healed, though the red cheeks and lowered eyes were not for the most obvious of reasons. "I do feel horrible asking a new friend to do something for me when I first meet them," He mutters both apologetically and in explanation, but there was no doubt that his need was great. He was down off the rock and on the cold cobblestone, even dipping his shoulders down so the diminutive woman would have a better working position. She would not be alone in the conversation about the weather and politics; the giant would match her story for story, observation for observation, and jolly laugh when jokes were made. He was putty in the elvish lady's hands, even when she wielded magery that most frost giants were adverse to. There was no doubt she had salved and soothed wounds that had been bothering him for quite some time if the way he quickly scavenged for the nearest pile of clean snow to clean his hands. "Please do not think I am telling you how to do your work, but I do feel my wrists need more attention than my hands," He was still sheepish in his attempts at turning her attention to the bruised and bloody echo of too tight shackles on his wrists.

Linn walked through the roads of Frostmaw to the broken markets, not necessarily in his fabulously shiny condition himself. All of the mithril plating was missing from his armor, leaving him half-silvered with the remaining scale and mail. His original gloves and boots were missing as well, the normally armored clothing replaced with simple furs and leather now. Noticeably, the leather around his right forearm was missing, which was instead wrapped well in linen bandages. Over the outer side a large, blotchy patch of red stains indicated where the wounds were. The stains lacked the gloss of wet blood, but retained that fresh, red color regardless. He walked and walked, seeming to be window shopping in what stands had been rebuilt for the time being. That was until he caught sight of Lanara and Hureig at the side of the road; the elven witch he recognized easily, but the giant got a double, triple take as Linn tried to figure out the guy’s identity. It seemed… familiar, but nothing he could put his finger on. Taking precaution not to interrupt too badly, he approached with a silent wave with the injured arm to signal his arrival, fingers not quite straightened out with the motion. For now he’d watch Lanara work… or address him in what he could only expect would be the most spectacular of ways.

Lanara lifts her hues to eye the injured wrists, and upon first sight she actually thought that he was wearing some type of crimson braided bracelets, though she now saw that it was all excoriated flesh and that it desperately needed healing. A nod was given in response to the shyness the giant was displaying, as no offense was taken, and she merely takes his oversized hand in hers and begins to pack the wounds with a moist mixture of herbs. The herbs had been freshly ground earlier that morning, with a mortar and pestle, and the aroma of rosemary, sandalwood, and camphor, would fill the senses of those near. The witch works in a circular motion from the tips of his fingers, to the palm of his hand, around his painful wrist, and ending at his forearm. Once the packing of the wounds was complete on both hands appendages, she then would begin to wrap sterile bandages over her work, and she secured them tightly. Lana’s work was neat, and as professional as if he were to visit a healing center, though Hureig now looked like he was wearing boxing gloves, which would only earn him an even wider smile from the pretty elf. The frost giant was as comical as he was respectful, and though she was often guarded around, well everyone, she finds herself hoping that they would become quick friends. Giving the male time to inspect her work, she is busy cleaning up her supplies when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye and raises her head to lock gazes with Linn. The enchanter was like a brother to her, and normally she would hurl a potato at his head or pounce on him in excitement, however today she merely stands her ground and gives him a curt nod, as she clenches her jaw. Chocolate hues eye the injured hand, and she pauses, with the wad of bandages held in mid-air. “Emrith.” That is the only thing she says, and perhaps that’s a statement in itself, as she scowls and motions for Linn to sit, so she may tend to his wound, as well.

Hureig could only look on in wonder as Lanara tended to his wounds. His respect and admiration for the woman was growing in leaps and bounds the more the fiery pains of his body were kowtowed by her masterful healing work. He would have thanked her a hundred times over, but his eyes caught the sight of Linn over her head. A male, much like the group who had catcalled and disrespected her earlier. And the wounded, badly armored man was -leering- at Lanara! Oh, the Frost Giant could just imagine all the things the bastard was thinking of doing to this wonderful woman. Let him catcall. Let him try! And it seemed that was what he was going to do, in Hureig's mind, when he raised his hand and moved over to the pair. This was it. This was how he would repay the healer. He would put this lecherous bastard in his place. It did not help Linn's case when Lanara looked at him with a clenched jaw and spoke only a single, curt word. That must be his name; he would make sure it was etched on Linn's gravestone. Linn would not have time to sit, for good manners required the newly mended Hureig to rise and extend his hand to him...and extend his hand he did. He leveled a fist at Linn's chin in a powerful hay maker, and it was probably for the best it was padded up like a boxing glove. Whether successful or not, Hureig bellowed his reasoning for such a pugilistic greeting. "Foul Emrith! Apologize for your lewd disrespect of this woman!"

Linn pursed his lips and swallowed the moment Lanara muttered that single name. It wasn’t hard to tell that things weren’t going to be pretty between the sister witch and the vampiric elf, but he didn’t know just –how- bad it was going to get. He was about to sit down until Hureig got up and he was suddenly finding himself with a fist headed towards his face. Quick reflexes were enough to make him jump back and avoid the blow, but not enough to maintain his footing as he fell to his butt on the cobbles with a thump. The point was taken regardless. “Uhm…” Linn stammered, looking back and forth between the giant and Lanara. Even that –voice- was familiar! “I’m not Emrith…” he responded slowly. “I’m Linn. I actually know Lanara fairly well.” How awkward. Still, he was sitting, as ordered. The wound under the bandaging would be a crisscrossed mess of giant’s stitching. The stitching wasn’t all that bad, considering how long the smaller races have been living in the city, but the unfavorable mismatch in size between doctor and patient was clear. The wound itself wasn’t kind either, the skin nearly shredded which warranted that much stitching in the first place, and the surface was uneven as the muscle underneath had been torn this way and that. It was pretty savage.

Lanara stares wide-eyed as Hureig jumps up to defend her honor, and nearly succeeds in planting his newly bandaged fist in Linn’s chin. The ordeal is so abrupt, and so random, that the witch bursts into a fit of contagious giggles as Linn lands on his rear. Lana clutches her ribs from laughing so hard, and extends a hand to pat the frost giant gently on his side, and mutters softly. “That’s not the bad guy…” After what seems like hours, her laughter finally dies down, and she peers up at Hureig, and though her eyes dance with amusement still, her voice holds the utmost sincerity. “No one has ever stood up for me quite like that before… Thank you, Mister Hureig. You are most kind, and I feel blessed to have met you. I hope that we see much more of each other in the coming days.” Lana’s voice trails off, and she holds his cerulean gaze for a moment, before she returns her attention to the bewildered enchanter, and explains just –who- Linn really is. “This is Linn. He’s my sister’s lover and he resides in Frostmaw, as well. It appears that he was also attacked by the vampire, known as Emrith, who is um… I suppose –another- lover of my dear sister. I don’t really understand the two-timing to be honest, but who am I to judge?” The witch walks over to Linn and extends a hand to help the male rise from the snow-covered cobblestone walkway, and nips her lower lip to bite back another laugh. “But… Seriously. Are you alright, Linn? Your arm doesn’t look too good.”

Hureig was weak, and he cursed himself for being unable to put Linn on his back instead of his rump. Battle lust was nigh upon him; he was about to launch himself at Linn and rip off his mithril armor, rib out his ribs, pop out his eyes, and do other not so nice things to him for not only being a sexist boar but also a liar! But Lanara's hand and the screams of nearly broken sutured flesh stalled him long enough for his rage to subside and the truth to be learned. "Oh...Oh...OH!" Just as quickly as he had launched into pulverizing Linn, he turned his attention to apologizing. "Linn! Yes, I've heard this name. Master Linn, the Armored." He was reaching with the tips of his fingers and was thoroughly relieved when Lanara began her explanation. "Yes, yes. Well. Yes. My apologies to the both of you." How awkward could a freshly mended frost giant look who was uncertain of what to do next look? Mountainously awkward.

Linn blinked as Hureig’s name came out before tilting his head. Hureig… Hureig… he could have sworn it was a brand of coffee, or something like that. Finding himself about to be squished, if not by fists, by the mass of the giant above him, he was about to kick out from underneath until the realization hit the both of them. “Shiny guy. Usually. Not that shiny right now though.” He muttered out quickly as things defused, answering the apologies with a “happens.” He could only send Lanara an odd look as she spoke about the two-timing; there had to be something else turning in her mind with that statement, but what it was… only she could tell, knowing her. The fact that Emrith’s name had slipped out in exactly the way Talyara didn’t want had completely missed him until after the fact, only registering as a faint twinge of “Oh. Crap.” by the time it did. Taking Lanara’s hand he got to his feet with a nod. “I’m… okay as I can be, I guess. My arm…” He held it up, curled his fingers in, but they couldn’t straighten beyond their natural relaxation. “It’s pretty torn up. Needs more time to heal, really. I’m having a hard time moving my hand some ways with it.” A beat as he looked to the bloodied patch. “Should probably change the bandages as well, if you have some around.” Had there been fresh bandages visibly available, he’d take his own off and reveal the damage.

Lanara responds with a nervous giggle, and stands on her tiptoes to inspect the bandages, and tightens them where they need to be tightened. She didn’t seem to have any fear of the man that was nearly ten times her diminutive size, even though he literally planted her best friend into the walkway. Hureig gave the witch good vibes, and she was one to always trust her gut, and so she pats the male on his hand, gently. “No need to apologize. It’s perfectly fine. Linn has had his share of bumps over the years, so what’s one more?!” She was jesting, possibly, though she did give the enchanter a mischievous smirk before rifling through her bag and producing some more bandages and salve. Without further ado, she starts working on Linn’s appendage, making certain to cleanse the areas where there was blood, before dressing the wound. She also would gently massage each of his fingertips and try bending his wrist in a circular motion, to try and increase the blood flow. “I need you to exercise them the way I am doing, three times a day. Alright? You need to keep that blood flowing within, otherwise you will never heal. Change the bandages twice a day, too. I have extra in my bag that you can have, once I’m through bandaging you.” Lanara finishes mending Linn, to the best of her ability as she didn’t have all the proper tools for vampire shredded flesh, and the healer wasn’t exactly local to the plaza. Still, the job she had done would aide him as he took the time to heal. The witch stifles a yawn as she finishes tying the bandage, and looks from the enchanter to the giant and smiles faintly. “I think I better be on my way. It was a pleasure to heal you both, and I’m so happy that we met Hureig! I’m sure I’ll see you both soon, and I hope you both attend the ball on Friday, in Xalious. Good day.” A beat would pass before the witch would clean up her belongings, scoop up her black cat, and exit the arctic market. No further comment was given to Linn about Emrith’s actions, or the little that she knew about her sibling’s relationship with both men. Perhaps now just wasn’t the right time, or perhaps Lana had plans of her own for dealing with the vampire. Only time would tell.

Hureig gave Lanara a bright smile before dipping low in a respectful bow. "The pleasure was mine, Lady Lanara. I do hope our paths cross again." Amends must be made for outrageous antics, and nearly clobbering an innocent man when the fault was entirely Hureig's for not asking him who he was or what his business was. The Frost Giant was quick to offer his ham of a hand to Linn for proper introductions. "I hear from our mutual friend that her sister is rebuilding her cottage? I want you to know that for this...incident...I make it my personal responsibility to see to it that it is furnished to both of your likings when it is completed. It is the least I can for assuming the worst."

Linn glared at Lanara as she spoke of his bumps and bruises with that look of ‘please god no.’ ‘Bumps’ was perhaps the lightest way to put it, the hoof prints in his missing plates notwithstanding. Not long after he found Lanara being… uncharacteristically –professional- as she went about the instructions to healing his arm. If anything, -that- left his head spinning, leaving him only able to nod and acknowledge the doctor’s orders with a somewhat bewildered look before taking some of the spare bandages for his arm and wrapping it back up. “Ball?” he echoed as the witch left, a confused look on his face. He refocused on Hureig as he spoke of the cottage, managing a distant nod about the preference of furnishing. “I know some of what she’d like, but I’d like for her to be here when we discuss everything. But yes. There’s still a lot left to rebuild and I know she’d appreciate some more help with it all.” Slowly he trailed off, eyes rolling up in thought. “We almost have the bed complete again, but we still need a mattress for sure. Maybe… we could find a few good ones while we’re out here?”