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Fable : Fall of the Guild	By : Samson Category: +A through F > Fable Views: 8222 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 51
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- 53
The Calm.
Fable : Fall of the Guild

Part IX - "Hook Coast"

By: Jesse Racine AKA Samson

Original Date Written: October 27, 2012

Panting, the figure ran through the forest, his big boots slamming through the snow. Powder snow slipped into his boots, soaking his feet in freezing cold water, quickly turning them numb. Swatting low-reaching branches out of his way was almost more trouble than it was worth, the sharp needles on the tree branches stabbing at his hands a dozen at a time, always threatening to swing back and smack into his face should he slow his running down. He had done it! Alexander, his infernal Hero daughter, the damn mage, they were all dead. The gluttons had been feasting on his delivered meal when he had left. He could see it, in glorious detail. The looks of confusion that came over them all. Perhaps a realization here and there that poison was at work. Then, the collapsing, every one of the fools tumbling down like puppets whose strings had just been cut. He grinned a little, but running like he was, the expression quickly disappeared.
He ran for a mile before needing a few minutes to recover, then ran for another, followed by another. He had just reached a frozen pond when he heard a loud whistling, piercing through the chilly air. His breath coming out like clouds before him, he stopped, panting hard. He looked around, noticing the group standing nearby. There were three of them, all dressed in black suits of fur-lined leather armour. The man in the center was a foot or two taller than his fellows, a long black beard hanging from his chin, connected to his hair thanks to a pair of thick sideburns. His amber eyes were cold and flat, like a snake’s. An obsidian greataxe was slung over on his back, the immense weapon easily capable of cleaving a human in half with a single blow. He was muscular, cutting a very intimidating figure, the man clearly not one to be trifled with. His fellows were less intimidating, but possessed the airs of seasoned killers, all the same.
One was blonde, the other was raven-haired. Both men had steel cleavers thrust into their belts, hanging down by their right legs. Neither of them had the same callous look in their eyes that the bigger man had, though they, too, had a murderous gleam to them. “Oh, ‘ello, ‘ere he is. The big man, hisself.” The blonde bandit said, holding back a snicker. His voice was a bit squeaky, making it hard for the man to come across as anything but taunting, immature. The guard didn’t respond, trying not to let annoyance come on his face. He walked towards them, unable to help but drag his heels a little after running so far. The tall bearded man spoke, and just like when the guard had first met the bandit, he was surprised by the bandit’s voice. He had a deep, intelligent voice, clear and easy to understand, serious to an unnerving degree. “Have you completed your task? Are they dead?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, looking down at the guard.
“I gave them the poison.” The guard said, avoiding the bearded man’s stare, though trying not to appear intimidated. “That doesn’t answer my question.” The guard said, his brow beginning to sink in annoyance. “He didn’t do it. He sissied out at the last minute.” The dark haired bandit mocked, smirking. The guard glared at the bandit, warningly muttering “Go to hell. I gave them the poison, they’re as good as dead. I put it on their food, and gave them all more than enough. They were wolfing the crap back when I made like a bird and flocked off.” “Are you sure of that?” The bearded man asked, emotionlessly. “Positive.” The guard responded.
Bang!
The guard stumbled for a moment before collapsing, falling into the snow, crumpling into a heap. Standing not far behind the guard was a fourth bandit, holding a smoking firearm. Like the other three, he was dressed in black leather armour, though he also wore a pair of bandanas on his head, one to cover him above the eyes, and the other to cover from below. The man holstered his firearm as he and his fellows calmly approached the injured guard. The guard coughed up blood, wincing like mad, his shaking hands pressed tight over the wound in his side. “...Bastards!...After what I...” “You were a traitor to them, you’d be a traitor to us. We were never going to accept you as one of us, fool. We appreciate you making things easier for us, though.” The bearded bandit said, a nasty little smile developing on his face. The blonde guard drew his cleaver, rolling his wrist around, giving his weapon a little spin. “Would you be so kind, Frederick?” The bearded man asked, looking over to his fellow.
“It would be a damn pleasure.” The bandit replied, grinning widely. The guard tried shouting out as the blonde bandit fell upon him, but his cries were soon cut short. The three bandits stood and watched as their blonde comrade went to work, hacking and rending with his cleaver, severing limbs, spilling innards. The gruesome murder was finished in a minute, the bandit panting slightly from swinging his heavy weapon. “Benedict’ll be ‘appy that bastard Alexander’s out of the picture.” The blonde bandit said, looking over at the bearded man. “Yes, well, I wouldn’t be so quick to celebrate. We’re going to have to follow up on this fool’s actions. We can’t throw soldiers at their camp if the Heroes are still alive.” Looking over at the bandit with the bandanas on, the bearded man nodded once, saying nothing. The bandit didn’t gesture or respond to show understanding, but he acted all the same, turning and walking off. He left the other three, following the slain guard’s tracks, heading in the direction of Alexander’s camp...
“What if I used Heal Life on her? Do you think it would destroy the poison?” Timoteo asked, sipping from a little white porcelain cup. He sat by Darrah still, his legs crossed beneath himself, one arm behind him to steady him while he leaned back a little. Bianca shook her head lightly. “I don’t think so...Heal Life, from what I could tell, was more for direct injuries. The poison is smaller, less overt.” “I suppose the poison hasn’t really done anything yet, anyway...With the antidote inside her, the poison can’t do much harm...Right?” Bianca was still on Darrah’s other side, sitting on her knees, her hands over her thighs. “The damage will be limited, yes.” She quietly said, looking over at Darrah, watching her eyes dart to and fro under her eyelids. Timoteo took another sip from his cup. Bianca’s tea was surprisingly effective, despite the somewhat bitter taste. Starting with the very first sip, warmth began to bloom in his stomach, slowly creeping along his veins like vines would crawl along a building.
It was a very welcome change, his shaking body and chattering jaw having calmed several minutes earlier. His stomach growled, as did Bianca’s, but after a poisoning attempt, they were understandably reluctant to touch anything in the way of food. Eventually, though, Bianca’s hunger became too great to ignore. She looked over at him, peacefully saying “We need to eat, keep our strength up for the battle to come...I’m wary of taking food from the others, though. I know Hook Coast has some tough vegetation...I may be able to put together a salad for us. Darrah will need someone by her side, though...” Timoteo nodded. He had never been one for salads, but he didn’t want to starve himself, either. “Sure. Will you be alright on your own? I wouldn’t be surprised if there were some tough things, out there.” Bianca smiled a little, beginning to stand. “I will try to be careful. Hook Coast is not as chaotic as the Northern Wastes, but I wouldn’t be surprised, either, if I came across snowy balverines and the like.”
She bent over momentarily, picking up her cloak, slipping it on as she stood up straight. He got up to his feet as she walked over to the tent entrance, stepping closer to her. “Here...” She murmured, reaching into her cloak. She pulled out a small vial, identical to the one she had handed Darrah, earlier on. Like the first vial, this one was plugged with white cork, the fluid inside a water-like sap. “If she starts to get pale, give her this...If she’s getting pale, it’s because the poison is overcoming the antidote. Another dose should remedy that.” Timoteo nodded, carefully taking the vial, glancing at it momentarily. “I’ll try not to be gone long, but I can’t know for sure where I’ll find anything edible...” “It’s alright...” He lightly said, giving her a little smile. She reached over, touching his chest, resting her hand against him affectionately. She smiled gently, gazing into his eyes. He held her by her hips as he leaned closer, the two sharing a tender kiss.
She gave a soft farewell before unbuttoning the tent flaps, stepping outside of the shelter. Timoteo was quick to button up the flaps again, although much of the accumulated heat inside the tent had already escaped. He sat back down beside Darrah, resting the antidote vial on a section of blanketing beside Darrah. Darrah went into a burst of fidgeting, shivering from the sudden cold inside the tent, but she calmed back down a minute or two later. Timoteo was quiet, watching Darrah with a calm expression, his eyes undeniably concerned. Bianca crept away from the camp without hindrance. Certainly, people were watching her, their old suspicions of her oozing to the surface, soldiers and guards alike wondering what the dark, mysterious Hero was up to. None of them stopped her however, none of them questioned her actions. She pulled her hood up and drew her cloak tight around herself, slipping off into the forest by the frozen beach.
As the snow on the ground grew thicker, Bianca’s boots began to crunch into it, packing it hard under her heels as she made tracks in the white. Several minutes passed, Bianca walking through the quiet, serene forest, always heading in the direction of the mountain. There had been almost no wildlife by the beach, but the farther Bianca headed, the more frequently she began to notice signs of animal passing. Footprints were in the snow, small and almost invisible. Some looked like dog tracks. Others were smaller, unidentifiable to Bianca. Abel had not been able to follow her across the sea, and he had not wanted to ride on their ship for days on end, unable to spread his wings and fly as frequently as he liked to. Bianca found that unfortunate, for if he were with her, she could ask him to help her with her search. She eventually came up to a tree, squatting beside it to avoid getting her knees wet. She dug into the snow with her bare hands, pulling away clumps at a time, clearing away a small depression.
She dug into the snow until she had reached the ground, her hands red from the cold, dripping water from her fingertips. She smiled a little at what she saw. A small white mushroom was growing, pale and stubborn. Her suspicion had been correct. Vegetation was growing on the cold island. “I likely won’t find anything like apples or grapes, but if I can find a place with a small enough covering of snow, like a sunny hilltop...” She thought, standing back up. She started off with a goal in mind, a bit more speed in her step, the dark figure slipping deeper into the cold, quiet forest...
“Benedict...I bring...Unfortunate news.” The subtly nervous voice came out. It was one of the two bandits that had met with the traitorous guard, having returned to the fortress after a few hours of trekking. He stood in the doorway of a long, rectangular room, the doorway on one of the far sides of the rectangle. The room lacked windows. It was almost pitch-black, with only a few candles lit here and there, not nearly enough to put the long room under even a mild glow. The bandit could see very little, and that suited him just fine; he was terrified of his leader, he felt like a rat intruding on a bear’s den just by standing in the man’s doorway. He could faintly make out a bed over to the right side of the room, a few candles lit on bedside tables on either side. A woman’s silhouette lay on the bed, a thick collar around her neck, a chain extending from it to some unseen anchor. A small table was over to the left, a single candle lit over it.
A man sat at the table, barely lit up by the candle. The bandit could make out his long, ragged hair, as well as the red sleeves of his fancy shirt. He was eating his dinner, cutting at what must’ve been a piece of meat, a juicy steak, judging by the aroma. The guard’s mouth watered, distracting him for a moment from continuing with his news. The man reached for something beside the plate, lifting a black tankard, taking a swig from it. The bandit got his bearings and spoke. “That guard we got to work with us? He said he poisoned Alexander’s food, and that the Heroes ate it, too. We killed him, of course. Then we sent Dirge in to act as a guard and double-check.” Benedict said nothing, almost ignoring the man, continuing on with his meal. The woman on his bed stirred, her chain rattling lightly. Benedict stopped moving. A frightened little peep came from the bed, the chain falling silent. Benedict waited a moment before turning his attention back to his meal.
The bandit gulped gently before he spoke again. He had a funny feeling that being the bearer of bad news would cut his bandit career short, via sword through the gut. “Dirge was caught before he even made it to their camp. Big scouting parties, by the looks of them. They started heading towards the fortress, he ran smack into ‘em. Didn’t stand a chance. So...We don’t know if the bastard’s still alive, or not. Either way, doesn’t look like they’re planning on calling off the attack.” Benedict still didn’t say anything, cutting off a small hunk of steak, chewing and swallowing before drinking from his tankard. The bandit waited several seconds before nervously repeating “Benedict?” “I heard you.” Benedict finally said, his silhouette barely moving as he looked up at the bandit. His voice was deep, a bit raspy, but calm and collected. “Whadda we do?” The bandit asked, his mouth watering again, the smell of the steak intoxicating to him.
Benedict drank from his tankard again before he said “If they’ve come from the north, it must be because they know about the southern outposts. They’re hoping to hit us where we’ll have the least defences. What about our other little Hero friend? The one playing “ghost in the mountains”?” The bandit shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “We lost another shipment of supplies, last week. The boys are getting...Antsy. Last patrol we sent looking for him never turned up. Some of the men say they deserted, the rest figure the ghost just got rid of ‘em.” Benedict sighed slightly, something that worried the bandit. He didn’t know if Benedict was annoyed or disappointed, both could end with the bandit’s death. “Send Davy to me. We need to chat.” Benedict calmly ordered, before eating another piece of steak. “Right.” The bandit responded, trying not to sound too eager or relieved to be getting away from the room...
Timoteo looked over as someone began to undo the buttons on the tent flaps. He relaxed when he saw it was Bianca, her hood up as she came into the tent. Darrah started shivering again, her face covered in beads of sweat as she shook a little. Bianca was quick to button the flaps together again, sighing lightly as she pulled her hood back. “How’s the weather, out there?” He asked, watching her with a little smile. Bianca smiled gently, pulling off her cloak as she quietly said “It’s beautiful. It stops being windy, the further you go on to the island. Once the wind stops, it’s no longer cold, really...” “Did you find anything to eat?” Bianca nodded, carrying her cloak over one arm as she came beside him, sitting down by Darrah’s right side. “I did...Enough for us to share a salad.” “Should tide us over long enough for Alexander to make certain that the rest of his food stores haven’t been poisoned, too.” Timoteo commented. “I hope so.” Bianca murmured, reaching into a large pocket on the inside of her cloak.
She slipped out a small wooden bowl, resting it down on some of Darrah’s blanketing, by Darrah’s right knee. As she felt around inside her cloak again, she quietly asked “Did the tea help, at all?” He smiled, watching her pull out a small leather pouch, the pouch kept tightly shut thanks to a small cord fastened into the material. “It did, thanks. I’m not shivering anymore, it’s great. I feel like I could run out into the wind.” Bianca chuckled quietly, smiling widely. “Good, I’m glad.” She warmly said, giving him a loving little glance. Bianca undid the fastening for her pouch, tipping it over above the bowl, letting the contents fall out. Several little white mushrooms fell out, along with a few dozen nuts. Timoteo wasn’t sure what kind of nuts she had gotten, but they were thin and shaped like ovals, dark brown in colour. Many flower buds fell out, the little spherical lumps of plant matter pure white in colour. Bianca gave the pouch a shake, making sure everything had slipped out, before she fastened it back up and slipped it back into her cloak.
She reached into a different pocket and pulled out a small phial, the phial made of green-tinted glass. Inside appeared to be some kind of fluid, but that’s all Timoteo could make out. Bianca pulled away the bit of cork blocking the top of the phial, tipped it over the bowl, and drizzled out a white creamy substance, specks of green visible in the mixture. She let the substance run over much of the salad before putting the phial away, taking out a pair of forks afterwards. She gave the salad a quick mixing, making sure the creamy substance had reached all of the salad before stopping. She handed him a fork, holding up the salad with a little smile. Timoteo smiled a little, trying some of the salad with her. Bianca seemed to enjoy the salad, but Timoteo found the sauce she had added to be responsible for the majority of the flavour. The buds and mushrooms didn’t have much flavour, and the nuts simply put some substance in the salad, put some crunch.
The creamy sauce was tangy, making the otherwise unremarkable meal enjoyable. Still, Timoteo ate less and less, slowing down until he had more or less stopped. He had a feeling that, even if he ate the entire salad on his own, it wouldn’t fill him up. Bianca, on the other hand, might find it to be satisfying enough for her. By sharing it with her, he might’ve been depriving her from fulfilment. When Bianca realized he had stopped eating the salad, she looked at him curiously. He shook his head gently, his expression calm, the young Hero saying “I shouldn’t eat any more...I don’t think it’d fill me up, anyway. You should have the rest, Bianca.” Bianca’s eyes turned worried, but at the same time, there was a hint of amusement to her expression. “Tim, this salad wouldn’t be enough to fill me up, either.” She simply said. He looked at her blankly, saying nothing. She smiled, murmuring “I want you to have some. I know it’s a light meal, it’s little more than a snack...But I don’t want to have it, by myself. You need to eat, too.”
She jabbed into the salad with her fork a few times, getting a creamy bud and mushroom on her fork. Her cute little smile persisted as she held up her fork to him, offering him the food. He smiled a little, opened his mouth, and let her feed him. She carefully guided the fork into his mouth, let him bite down, then slipped the fork back out. He chewed a few times before quietly saying “I hope Alexander gives us the okay on the rest of the food, soon...” Bianca’s smile lightened, murmuring in agreement. He started to eat again, and in another minute, the two had finished off the salad. They rested the bowl off to the side, their forks sitting inside. Timoteo smiled faintly as he guided Bianca closer to himself, Bianca smiling warmly as she sat on the ground between his legs.
Her back touching his chest, he held her around her waist, massaging his hands along her soft tummy. She rested her hands over his, holding on to him as he felt along her, a content smile on her face. He nuzzled his face into the side of her neck, smelling the blueberry scent of her hair, enjoying the intimacy of their close contact. She closed her eyes, a quiver running down her spine as he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, Timoteo smiling lightly at her reaction. Bianca looked over towards Darrah, almost doing a double-take when she realized the change that had taken place. Darrah’s skin was turning as pale as snow, beads of sweat running down the sides of her forehead.
Bianca was quick to react. She grabbed the extra vial of Lupus Tyrannus antidote, still resting nearby where Timoteo had placed it, earlier on. She scrambled forwards, surprising him when she broke out of his embrace. Bianca didn’t move far from him, simply getting up on her knees in front of him, bending over to get over Darrah. “She’s looking bad, I’m sorry, I should just be...” Bianca trailed off, not finishing her sentence. Timoteo’s eyes moved to Darrah, noticing the change that had come over her. Bianca quickly pulled the cork from her vial, reaching over to Darrah’s face, placing her thumb on Darrah’s chin. She lightly pulled down, parting Darrah’s lips, opening her mouth. She brought the vial to Darrah’s lips and tipped it over, running the substance down into her mouth. She tossed the vial off to the side, then used one hand to close Darrah’s mouth, using the other to pinch her nose. Darrah, with no airway open, was forced to swallow the antidote, Bianca releasing her once she saw Darrah’s throat momentarily tense up.
Darrah’s breathing was quick for several seconds due to being temporarily deprived of oxygen, but quickly enough, she calmed back down. Bianca smiled lightly, sighing with relief. “I doubt the poison will be able to overcome a second dose...” She murmured out. Timoteo was relieved that Darrah’s descent had been remedied, but his attention was very quickly absorbed by that which was most apparent to his eyes: Bianca’s big tush, raised up towards him. Thanks to her position, her rear was almost on display, so close to him he could conceivably lean over and smother his face against her rump. He stared, his breathing getting a bit deeper. The sight rose up an instinctual response from him, Timoteo bursting into arousal, his eyes roaming along the sight of her. Her skirt barely concealed her, bent over like she was. The straps of her garter belt were tight over her pliable cheeks, her tiny pair of panties invisible aside from the black strip covering her womanhood.
Bianca didn’t notice how he was looking at her, she may not have even realized that her position was compromising, given her concern for Darrah. She sat back up, sitting on her knees momentarily, letting out a little exhale. She gazed at Darrah for several seconds, making sure she wasn’t getting any worse. Timoteo watched her turn back to him, slowly twisting on a knee to face him. She noticed his blush, blinking as she realized what he must’ve been looking at, her face turning a little red as embarrassment rose up in her. He smiled a little, reaching over to her hands, holding her gently. “We need some privacy, after Darrah gets better...” He lightly said, smiling more. Bianca’s cheeks turned brighter red, but her lips started curving into a happy smile. She moved closer to him, crawling over him until she was on her knees over his lap, facing him. They locked eyes for several seconds, her hands going to the sides of his head, her fingers sinking into his hair.
He held her by her curvy tush, slipping his hands under her skirt, giving her a firm, playful squeeze. She closed her eyes, coming closer, pressing her bosom against him as she gave him a passionate kiss. They had kissed twice before Bianca suddenly pulled back, parting their lips. She was breathing a little heavy as she quietly said “Wait, we...We shouldn’t, Darrah’s right beside us...We need to be watching her...” Timoteo smiled and slipped his right hand a little further around her, reaching down and between her thighs. She gasped faintly when he cupped her hot mound from behind, rubbing at her silky soft underwear. He kissed the side of her neck, murmuring out “Later on, then?...” Bianca nibbled at her bottom lip for a moment, feeling him rub at her for a few seconds before she murmured out “Yes...As soon as possible...I...” Timoteo could tell his teasing was pushing her to her limit. He slipped his hands away from her, putting them to the ground behind him, steadying himself.
Bianca slipped her hands down from the sides of his head, holding on to his shoulders as she surprised him with another kiss. He slipped his tongue out and flicked at her lips, Bianca responding in kind, letting out a trembling breath as she coiled tongues with him. They kissed for several moments before Bianca realized what was happening, pulling back from him, simply sitting in his lap. They were both breathing a bit hard, their faces red, their eyes glazed over with wanting. They gazed into each other’s eyes, barely keeping themselves from ravishing each other right then and there. “...As soon as she wakes up?...” Bianca softly suggested. He grinned lightly, giving her a nod. Bianca smiled warmly, stroking a hand along his chest for a moment before beginning to rise, slowly getting up from his lap. Just as she got to her feet, a familiar voice came from beyond the tent flaps. “Hey, guys? It’s Brute. Darrah’s dad wanted me to check on you guys, see how she’s doing.”
Timoteo looked over as Bianca walked towards the front of the tent, beginning to undo the buttons keeping the flaps tightly together. Brute poked his head in once there was a large enough opening, surprising Bianca, almost ramming his forehead into her’s. She stepped back and looked over towards Darrah, saying “I’m sure she will recover...She just needs another hour or two.” Brute sighed. “That’s a relief. Darrah’s dad has been pacing up and down in his tent ever since the whole poisoning fiasco. She doesn’t look so hot, though...You sure she’ll be okay?” Bianca looked back to Brute and gave a nod. “I believe so, yes.” She answered, calmly. Brute smiled a little and suddenly changed the subject. “Man, it’s warm in there. Must be awesome, I wish my tent was half as warm as this. The both of you look all red, though. You should let some fresh air get in here.” Timoteo and Bianca both developed blank expressions, glancing at each other subtly.
It was fortuitous that the tent was so warm, otherwise, it likely would’ve been obvious to Brute that the two were not, in fact, flustered by the heat. Brute raised his eyebrows for a moment as he said “Well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll tell Darrah’s dad that she’s still okay. The food stores on the ships are almost through getting checked, by the way. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.” “We know what you mean.” Timoteo said, chuckling a little. Bianca smiled a little in reaction. Brute said a farewell and pulled his head back out, Bianca quickly buttoning back up the hole. “I would’ve let him in, but...” She lightly said, trailing off. Timoteo chuckled, nodding slightly, saying “I know. He was just eager, I guess.” Bianca smiled more for a moment, walking over towards him, sitting down beside him. She brought her knees close to her chest, wrapping one arm around them, reaching over to his right thigh with the other. She rested her hand over him, looking over at him pleasantly. He smiled gently, brought one hand over her’s, soon threading fingers with her...
Consciousness came, eventually. Bleary at first, all sound muffled, her spine like a sliver of ice buried beneath her skin. She was soaked, drenched in fluid all over, though it was cold enough to make her want to shiver. Oddly enough, her face was quite warm, and so was the air she breathed in. Sound slid back into place, a voice beside her speaking quietly, the words indistinct, at first. She groaned when she realized that she was soaked because she had been sweating, knowing that there was no way she’d be able to bathe without freezing herself. “Darrah?” She heard Timoteo say, his tone alarmed yet excited. Darrah mumbled in her throat, making a weak, sleepy sound. The poison hadn’t killed her, just like Bianca had told her. She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised by how weak she was, but she supposed that, on some level, she had expected to shrug off the poison like it had been a simple cold. No such luck, evidently.
She could barely talk, in her state. She tried to open her eyes, but quickly snapped them back shut. The tent, even during the evening, had been blindingly bright to her. She felt someone come closer to her, a hand comfortingly stroking down the side of her face. It was Timoteo, he was by her side. Had he been by her through the whole ordeal? The thought made her eyes moist, a shadow of a smile developing on her face, fading a moment later. “Darrah, are you awake?...How do you feel?” Darrah breathed out a quiet mumble, not knowing how to respond. Should she be reassuring, or realistic? Weakly, she moved her arms, struggling against her blanketing. She forced the blanket down until her chest was revealed. The gust of air that hit her was warm, but only reinforced to her how much she was drenched. The very moment it was exposed to fresh air, the bed sheet beneath her suddenly turned icy cold, disgusting her with how moist it was. Timoteo noticed, apparently, as he quietly said “Avo, gonna have to get you some new sheets...I’m not surprised though, you were sweating and shaking for hours.” Darrah struggled with her bed sheets until she had gotten them off of herself entirely, exposing herself completely to the warm air of the tent.
“Wha...What time...”
“Evening. Sun’s gonna start setting, soon. You were unconscious for most of the day. Dinner should be ready in an hour or two, if you’re up to eating.”
“B-Bianca?...”
“She’s been with me just about every step of the way...She’s been looking after you, too. She just stepped out to make some more tea for me, but you can have it. It’s the tea she mentioned before, the kind that warms you up? Works pretty good, actually.”
Darrah smiled faintly, grateful. She wasn’t so sure about eating, she wasn’t sure if she could handle a meal just yet, but a drink would be lovely. She was parched, her throat sore with lack of hydration. She lost her smile after a moment. Her underwear was starting to bother her, like the bed sheets had. She wanted to strip completely naked and give her whole body a chance to dry off, but how could she tell him? She’d need privacy, especially if Bianca would be returning, soon. “New sh...Sheets...” She croaked out. Timoteo slipped his hand from her, standing up, saying “Right, sorry. I’ll be right back, I can get some in just a minute.” She heard him walk away from her, then silence. A few seconds later, the air over her quickly began to turn icy cold, heat getting sucked out of the air at an alarming rate. Darrah trembled and shook, enduring it, too drained to do anything but lie still.
The frigid nip in the air continued for around twenty seconds before it slowly started to fade, and eventually, Darrah was left at a bearable temperature; it was cold, but it wasn’t getting any colder, giving her a chance to warm the tent back up. She waited a while, Darrah not even bothering to guess at how much time had passed. All she knew was that the chill in the air had returned too soon for her liking. “All right, I’ve got some fresh sheets, here...” Timoteo said, quickly buttoning the tent flaps back together. He looked at Darrah with sympathy as well as pity. She looked so helpless, so weak and defenceless. She laid there in what almost looked like a state of waking sleep, capable of nothing, yet aware of her surroundings. She likely didn’t realize it, but she had sweat so much that her white panties had become almost transparent. The fabric was riding up into her valley, making her womanly ridge clearly visible. Through the soaked fabric, he could faintly make out her pubic hair, her blonde nether hair sitting over her mons in a soft mane. If he didn’t know better, he might’ve assumed that she had wet herself while she was unconscious.
The cold that had wafted into the tent twice, now, made her nipples poke at her bra so intensely that they, too, were clearly visible, twin nubbins standing out over the cups of her undergarment. The sight would’ve been quite arousing, were he not so worried for her well-being. He came closer to her, kneeling down beside her, resting the fresh sheets beside himself. “Alright, I’ve got them here...Will you need help changing the sheets, or...?” Darrah groaned pleadingly, apparently asking for help. Timoteo nodded once, mumbling “Alright then, let’s get you off of these...Can you sit up?...” Darrah shook her head lightly. Timoteo smiled lightly, a little amused. Exhaling as he spoke, he said “Ahh, this would be easier if I had a second person with me. Okay, well, we’ll need to get you off of the sheets you’re on, then put new sheets down. That’ll be the biggest challenge.” Timoteo thought for a moment before he came upon what he believed was the only real solution viable for him.
“Think you can hold on to me if I pick you up?” Darrah nodded gently. Timoteo slipped one arm under her legs, going between her knees and the cold, moist bed sheets. He slipped the other arm under her upper back, getting his arm around her shoulders. He readied himself, getting in a squat, ready to heft her up. Darrah slowly reached up, barely grasping at his neck, slipping her arms around him in an almost affectionate manner. He took in a sharp breath and lifted, standing up as he went, bringing her up into the air. Cradling her close, she wasn’t quite limp, but she was fairly loose, her legs dangling by her side. Timoteo was about to use his feet to pull away the wet bed sheets, but then he realized a flaw in his plan. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead. Sure, he could remove the bed sheets, but how could he spread out the new ones without the use of his hands? He glanced upwards with annoyance, sighing inwardly. As luck would have it, however, the tent flaps started to undo, Bianca having returned.
Timoteo looked over with an embarrassed little smile, reluctant to admit having made what he perceived to be a rather foolish oversight. When Bianca stepped in, she had another white porcelain cup, held daintily in one hand. She instantly noticed that Darrah was in his arms, a smile coming to her when she realized that Darrah must’ve been awake. “Darrah?” She asked, quickly walking over to the small table nearby, where Darrah’s armour and arms had been resting. Darrah mumbled Bianca’s name, resting the side of her head over Timoteo’s right collar bone. Timoteo looked at Bianca and said “The sheets are soaked, we were about to put new ones down, but my arms are full...” “Yes, of course.” Bianca softly said, quick to assist. She rested her cup down on the table, then turned to the bed sheets. She grabbed Darrah’s small pillow Scooping up the moist blankets, she put them in a pile off to the side. She grabbed one of the new blankets, draping it out over the cold, hard ground, then spread another overtop.
She put Darrah’s pillow back, then stepped back so Timoteo could rest her down. Darrah sighed softly as he gently brought her down, the feeling of being back in dry sheets being overly delightful. Timoteo spread a sheet over her, smiling faintly, asking “How’s that feel?...” “Great...” Darrah mumbled, smiling a little bit. Now that she was under some sheets, she was quick to start working on her underwear, turning over a little so she could reach behind herself. She undid her bra, slipped it down her arms, and simply dropped it over her makeshift bed. She pulled her soaked panties down her legs, and it, too, went out to air with her bra. Timoteo and Bianca glanced at each other, surprised she would just toss her underwear out for them to see. Darrah lay on her side then, curling up into a bit of a ball, mumbling pleasantly. Now that she was nude and comfortable, she felt incredibly drowsy, though she simply refused to let herself fall asleep before she had a drink.
“Tim said...Um...Tea?...” Darrah mumbled, swallowing futilely, not even having saliva to temporarily calm her throat. Timoteo walked over towards the table nearby, Bianca bundling up Darrah’s underwear, bringing the two pieces over to the table. “I told her about the tea you were making, figured she should try it...She’s probably dying for a drink, anyway.” Timoteo explained. Bianca nodded lightly, murmuring “After hours unconscious, she must be hungry, too...” “Nngh...Just wanna drink...” Darrah moaned out. Timoteo smiled a little, amused at her somewhat whining tone. Bianca laid down Darrah’s wet underwear while Timoteo walked over with the cup, slowly getting down on a knee beside her. “Here, the tea...Do you want privacy, Darrah? Now that we know you’re okay, we can leave you alone, if you want.” Darrah mumbled in her throat, still not opening her eyes, sightlessly reaching around for the cup. He slowly put it in one of her hands, Darrah smiling a little with gratitude.
She quickly took a sip from the cup, then another. Then, she downed the whole thing, finishing the rest of the cup in one big mouthful. Sighing contently, she murmured out “Mm, okay...You can go, now...” Resting the cup down on the ground, near his leg, she tiredly mumbled “I think I’m gonna go to bed...” Timoteo smiled a little, reaching over and stroking down the side of Darrah’s head, feeling her soft hair. Darrah smiled a little in silent response. He picked up her cup as he rose to his feet, looking over at Bianca. The two of them smiled, for more than one reason. Darrah was alright, the two would soon have a much-desired dinner, and they could now have some time to themselves. Slipping out of Darrah’s tent, they headed to their own, excited at the prospect of some privacy...
“Yes, it’s a shame. I hear he was quite the investigator. Sniffed out a dozen sympathizers at once, one time. Impressive stuff.” Gibbons said, nodding slowly. Marilyn raised her eyebrows, sympathetically saying “And Robin, that poor woman. Killed in her own home! Do you think it was a robber? Maybe it was a sympathizer?” The three other League members with them shook their heads slowly. They all stood together in the Witchwood Arena, early in the morning. They each held a cup of tea, sipping from them every now and then. One of the men with them had a genuinely frustrated look on his face, muttering out “A loyalist, killed in her own home. I would not be surprised if it had been a sympathizer.” Looking at the others severely, he glanced from face to face, saying “None of her valuables were missing. Somebody just wanted to get rid of her.” The only woman in the group, besides Marilyn, quickly interjected with “Well, she was shot. They might’ve run off before they could take anything. The guards didn’t find anybody at the house, remember?”
“Still.” The first man muttered. The third man raised a hand to his face, adjusting his spectacles for a moment before he nodded at Gibbons and Marilyn. “Anyway, Avery, Sarah, we were about to head into the stands. An early-morning execution’s about to start.” Gibbons smiled a little, saying “Oh? Count me in, heh.” The other three League members grinned a little, nodding off to the side, beginning to turn and walk off. “Alright then, c’mon. Should be an interesting way to start the day.” Gibbons and Marilyn started following after the others, heading down the immense hallway looming before them. They continued chatting about their deceased comrades as they went up sandstone staircases, passing by long-destroyed statues of old Heroes and Arena Champions. The iconoclastic methods of the League had always infuriated Gibbons, but he did like always, passing by the defaced and demolished statues without a glance towards any of them.
He continued with his act as Avery House, League member and Hero-hater, scourge of Guild sympathizers everywhere. Eventually, the two walked out into the dim sunlight, the sun having just risen perhaps an hour before. The arena proper was immense, despite much of the building’s space actually being taken up by interior passageways and rooms. Shaped like a circle, the arena had a sand-covered floor, two exits on either side. Both exits were barred by multiple spears that extended from the ground, the spears made of steel, too close together for anything to pass through. There were dozens of sandstone benches, all lined up together around the arena, facing it from all angles. The group had exited out directly into the stands, the ramp they had just ascended coming out near one of the two arena entrances. Gibbons took a deep breath of the fresh, dewy air, ignoring the ancient smell of blood permanently lingering over the location.
Three people were down in the arena, with a few other League members spread out in the stands, sitting and watching. “Here we are...” One of the other League members said, quickly sitting down on the bench directly beside the entrance the group had taken, sitting right at the edge of the arena. The others quickly sat down, Gibbons and Marilyn sitting beside one another, looking out into the arena. There was no real announcement that morning, no fanfare, making Gibbons wonder just who the victim was. Squinting a little to try and get a better look, he asked “So, who is the bastard, anyway? Anybody I’d have heard of?” The woman in the group raised a hand up by her head, flipping her hand through her long auburn hair. “Nah, just some guy. Had a brother that was a Hero. Or...Was it a kid? I don’t know. He’s been here for a while, actually, but it took us a bit to get to him.” Gibbons took in the details he could make out.
The man was kneeling in the center of the arena, two League members standing behind him, dressed in their black coats, armed with their firearms. The man looked like he was getting late in years, his hair mostly gray, the rest coloured brown. Old age put a bit of weight on his frame, the man dressed in little more than rags, various bloodstains on his rough, sleeveless shirt. His clothes were dark brown in colour, and almost appeared to have been made from shoddily stitched-together burlap sacks. Gibbons knew this to be the typical uniform the League gave to condemned individuals, meant to dehumanize and humiliate them right up until their final moments of living. Gibbons could barely make out the man’s face, but something about him struck Gibbons as oddly familiar. “Where did he come from, anyway?” Marilyn asked. “Um...Not sure. Some big city to the east, near the mountains.” One of the two men said, absent-mindedly.
Gibbons’ expression turned somewhat blank, his eyes widening a little. The woman noticed, looking at him with amusement. “What’s wrong, Avery? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Gibbons was quick to collect himself, glancing at the woman by his side before looking back to the prisoner. “Just think I might know that man. I think I recognize him from somewhere. Had a son that was a Hero, you said?” “Something like that. Was related to a Hero, didn’t wanna give them up, same old story.” The spectacle-wearing man said, leaning forwards, putting his elbows to his knees. Gibbons’ mouth hung open a crack, watching helplessly as one of the League members below loaded his firearm. Gibbons closed his mouth and bit the side of his tongue as the League member below brought the muzzle of his firearm to the back of the man’s head. Marilyn could tell that Gibbons was tense, an unusual giveaway of his true identity.
Normally, his acting was flawless. When it dawned on her who Gibbons must’ve suspected the prisoner to be, however, her eyes widened a little. Gibbons closed his eyes momentarily. The gunshot rang out. He exhaled subtly, opened his eyes again, and smiled. “One down, dozens more to go.” He said, with a hint of amusement. “Got that right.” One of the men said, grinning. Marilyn gulped gently, a sinking feeling appearing in her stomach. Gibbons watched the League members below kick at and spit on the corpse. He had failed. He had vowed to Timoteo that he would help, but he had simply sat there and watched. How would he be able to tell his friend that his father was dead, degraded and executed? Would Timoteo be able to understand the position Gibbons had been in, at the time?...
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Fable : Fall of the Guild