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The Story of Braith	By : CinnabarCrow Category: +M through R > Pillars of Eternity Views: 2000 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pillars of Eternity and am not profiting from this story

Chapter List
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A blanket of mist hung heavy in the air.
From a distance he watched as a figure of a woman gradually emerged, lurching nearer with a faltering gait. Through the holes in her leather shoes peaked blisters, evidence of a long journey on foot. Scrapes and cuts garnished her bare legs and arms, giving her limbs a mottled appearance. Dirt and blood soiled her clothes, rough hempen faded things tied round her waist with a rope. Her long dark hair hid her face and hung forward in thick, matted tendrils, evidently bloodied from a fresh wound on her head. A small knapsack over her shoulder appeared to hold her only possessions.
Her appearance simultaneously repulsed and interested him. Whoever she was, it was clear she was not a local. As a foreigner in these lands he couldn’t help but feel pity for this fellow traveller.
While he absentmindedly watched the woman a threatening voice jolted him to his senses.
“Heey, wuts we gotshere?! Shum fanshey Aedyr-panshts tinkshsey better’n me?!” Visible globules of spittle flew from the man’s mouth, his breath heavy with the stench of ale.
Startled, the young man stepped back, gagging at the rancid odor. He glanced about in alarm. A gang of locals had emerged from the tavern, their tempers flaring with cheap ale, they formed a circle around him.
Panic began to overtake the young man. “This is completely unnecessary. Please, go about your business.” He did his best to keep his voice level.
“Ohh youshtinksh yous can come in heres t’our town’n tells ush wut t’ do? We ain’t gots t’ lishtens t’ you Aedyr nu more! Hows bout you take yer fanshey Aedyr books an go stuff em up yer ass!” Another man spat.
“Och aye, eh'd loch tae see ye try! Ah bit ye hae a lot ay experience crammin' things intae yer sister's crease!” The words erupted uncontrollably from the young man’s throat.
“Ye little shit! Kill him!” Raising a club a woman rushed to make the first swing.
In that instant time seemed to stand still. Still startled, the young man was unable to move in time to defend himself as the figures lunged at him. Yet much to his surprise, the woman suddenly turned, her club connecting with the head of one of the men. Howling in pain the man reeled back, his shovel plunging into the woman’s abdomen as a second man lept upon him from behind, his hand around the man’s neck. A painful snap signaled the end of his life. The second man rose to his feet, surveyed the corpses of his companions and turned on young man.
“You! You did this!”
From somewhere nearby a low groan erupted. Before the second man had time to respond a dark form sprang upon him, knocking him to the ground. It was the woman! The man screamed as she dug her fingers into his spine, her teeth severing the artery along the side of his neck. The young man could only watch in horror as a jet of bright red shot out of the man’s throat. Finally his body grew limp and his cries came in gurgling whimpers.
The woman sat up and blinked. Her eyes locked with the young man’s and she reached toward him as she opened her mouth to speak.
The young man began to recoil in horror at the sight of the woman drenched in blood. Suddenly he lept forward, closing the distance between himself and the woman. “Och yoo're gonnae be a bit ay trooble, arenae ye?”
Startled at his sudden change of disposition the woman raised her hands to hide her face—only to observe that she was drenched in blood. Crawling sideways off the body of the dead man the woman wiped her hands on her skirt and looked up at him, her eyes large with desperation. “Please help me. I’ve traveled a long away. I don’t know what’s happening-I-I feel strange.” She closed her eyes and clutched the sides of her head as though shielding herself from some unseen presence.
The young man drew in a sharp breath. “You just killed that man with only your hands and teeth.” He winced at the grisly sight of the corpse. “The others-was that your doing as well?”
She rubbed her bloodshot eyes and breathed deeply. “I killed them, yes—the others—I…don’t know what happened…”She cast a glance on the mangled corpse of the man. He lay face down in a pool of blood, sinew and bone protruded out from a hole in his upper back. “I didn’t intend for that—my hands, my teeth, my will…it was not my own. She ran her tongue over her teeth and grimaced at the taste of the man’s blood. “Listen,” she rubbed her temples, “You’ve heard of ciphers. I can read souls, manipulate them.” She glanced up anxiously. “Whatever your fears of soul manipulation, I’m not a wild beast. Not normally. I don’t know what came over me. Please believe me—our caravan was attacked and I’m lost and alone. Her shoulders quivered. There hooded figures and a bîaŵac. It killed the others but it did something to me.” She looked up at him with the desperate eyes of a cornered animal.
He didn’t know this woman and had no reason to trust her, but somehow the young man couldn’t help but see something of his younger self in those eyes, so large and vulnerable and full of fear. “Your wounds need attention. We should see if we can get a room at the inn while I tend to you.” He held out a hand to help her stand. She stared at it for a moment as though in disbelief and then grasped it firmly with her own hand. However, no sooner did she begin to shift her weight onto her legs than her body shuddered and collapsed.
He managed to catch her before she struck her head on the ground. What could have caused all these wounds? Carefully, so as not to injure her further, he lifted her unconscious form, supporting her with his shoulder. She was slight of build which was fortunate as he was more accustomed to arcane study than to physical labor. He pushed open the door to the inn and carried her inside.
“I’d like to get a room, please.” He said to the young woman tending the bar.
“That’ll be 110 copper. Something wrong with your friend there?” She gave the unconscious woman a concerned look.
“She will be better. She just needs a place to rest.” He handed her the copper and she gave him a small iron key.
“First room on your right. Take care now.”
He carried the unconscious woman up the stairs and entered the room. It was a clean room albeit humble. A wooden dresser, bookshelf and nightstand lined one edge of the room and across from them were two small beds. He laid the woman down on the nearest of the beds. Now to do something about her injuries.
“Yoo're gonnae hae tae undress 'er, ye ken. Hink ye can handle 'at?”
The young man blushed but did not reply. His hands trembled as he untied the knot at her waist pulled the tattered dress over her head. He gasped. Her wounds were more extensive than he had first supposed. Contusions covered the tender skin of her breasts; blood oozed from the broken skin on her nipples. Scrapes and abrasions stretched across the skin on her ribs. The young man searched through his pack and produced a carefully folded strip of cloth. He had been on the road for some time and liked to be prepared in case of injury. Carefully he began wrapping the bandages around her chest. His pulse quickened as his fingers glided across her breasts. He swallowed a lump in his throat and continued to tend to her wounds. Her long hair made the injury on her head difficult to see properly but it seemed the blood had largely coagulated. Hopefully she had not sustained internal bleeding. He propped he head forward to access her thick head of hair. Taking out a set of combs and a pair of scissors he got to work removing the matted knots. How long had it been since she had last combed her hair? At last satisfied, he bandaged her head and plaited her hair into a long braid. Perhaps that would prevent some amount of future tangles. Exhausted from the effort he dropped onto the other bed and sunk into a slumber.
He awoke in the morning to find the woman still unconscious. Yet every now and then she mumbled to herself. Perhaps that was a good sign. Loathe as he was to set foot alone in the village he thought it prudent to look for work while the woman was unconscious. He hoped he wouldn’t have to pay for too many nights. He dressed and stood to leave, but then after searching through his pack he produced a blue cotton robe, folded it neatly and set it on the dresser.
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The Story of Braith