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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Twenty-Six: Catch A Human

The citizens of the little town guide Valan to the old doctor's home; he's insistent on walking, despite his injuries. Irzain follows along at first, but pauses as soon as he realizes that the villagers haven't thoroughly explored the hut where they'd found Valan. Stepping into the dank structure, Irzain can smell a strange, musky odor. It's an odd combination of scented candles, the metallic smell of blood, and another, familiar odor; it's reminiscent of bodies after being caught in the throes of carnal passion. Examining the altar, he notes the many empty vials strewn about the floor, all made of pink glass.

Irzain can't help but wonder who's done this to Valan. He always seemed so competent. Was he tricked or merely overpowered? Finding Valan's belt and holsters, his custom-built pistols still inside, he squats down, picking them up from the floor. Why weren't these stolen? The perpetrators had certainly taken his coin purse; Irzain had seen Valan with it on the skiff, when they came to Bremen from the anchored Arona-Dahl. Why then would they leave everything else behind, including a living victim? Shaking it off, he races outside and returns to Sovik's home, just in time to see Sovik's reaction as he steps outside to meet the crowd.

“By the Seraphs! What do we have here?!" The old doctor asks.

“We found this man in an abandoned hut. He was robbed and assaulted." A villager explains.

Overhearing the commotion, the women also emerge from the hut. Kirsta gasps. She stares at the wounded Valan, her mouth agape. The long-haired human glares at her with a seething anger as she covers her gaping maw. His self-pity has since vanished, revealing a pure, unadulterated rage. The sound of Kirsta's shock draws Jarae and Mairlynn from Sovik's lair, leaving them frozen in place.

“Valan?!" Jarae gasps.

“Hi..." He growls.

“Where've you been?!" Mairlynn asks.

“Oh! Surprised to see me again?!"

After snapping at the little elf, Valan coughs, falling to his knees and clearly short of breath. Sovik is quick to come to his aid.

“We need to get him inside. I need to treat these wounds."

Grabbing hold of Valan's bloody bicep, the gunman jumps and pulls away from the doctor.

“Don't do that! You need medical attention!" Jarae pleads with him.

“Don't tell me what I need..."

Carefully grabbing hold of him once more, Sovik gives Valan a gentle pull. Seeing the kindly Falmun's genuine concern, Valan's angry scowl softens. With shaky breaths, he rises to his feet, allowing the old man to lead him into his hut. Moving through the crowd and approaching the door, Irzain also glares at the women.

“You should've told me..." He grumbles.

“We didn't know." Kirsta remarks.

“That he was gone?! How could you not?! Weren't you keeping tabs on the crew?!"

“Well..." Mairlynn looks away.

Seeing her shame, Irzain shakes his head.

“Unbelievable... I thought we were a family. Would you have bothered to look for me?"

“Yes. I made a promise to Matius to protect you." Kirsta answers.

“And so Valan isn't of any consequence?!" Irzain snaps.

The women remain silent. Even Jarae doesn't defend herself; Irzain is certain that she still has at least a modicum of feelings for the gunman. To the amnesiac scribe it seems quite clear; they simply abandoned their companion. Pushing them aside, Irzain enters Sovik's hut, pausing as he watches the old Falmun applying an ointment to Valan's scratches and bite marks.

“This will help heal your wounds. With any luck at all, none of them will leave scars; they aren't really that deep."

“Thanks..." Valan murmurs.

“I found these."

Turning toward Irzain, Valan watches with a cold stare as the scribe approaches, setting down his gun belt and pistols.

“Two shots... It could've saved me a lot of trouble..."

“What happened?" Irzain asks.

“Well, I-"

Valan pauses, staring with narrowed, blue-green eyes at the doorway as the women reenter the hut. All of them wear their shame like a veil, especially Jarae, who looks as though she might burst into tears at any moment.

“... I came here, not long after you left Steingar and I like soiled laundry. It must've been a little after mid-day. I thought maybe I could catch up to you and help protect you, but I made a mistake... There were two of them, wearing oversized, brown cloaks and keeping their hoods up. Both were pureblood Lahnyt, and both female."

Sovik's ointment covered hand stops as he listens to Valan. After a short pause, he continues to apply the healing salve.

“They followed me, which I immediately noticed. I made an effort to evade them but they chased me, so I tricked them; I got the better of them, holding them both at gunpoint."

“But you didn't shoot." Irzain states the obvious.

“No, I didn't. They seemed to be overly interested in me, the same way many other women are. They apologized for the chase and merely asked to walk with me. I was suspicious of them, but they seemed harmless. We began looking for you, walking around the edge of the town. They drank from a bottle – it was made of pink glass – and called whatever it was a 'fruit blend'."

“And you drank from it?!" Jarae growls.

“They enjoyed half of it before ever offering me any! How was I to know?! Who would ever poison or drug themselves?!"

“A clever criminal." Kirsta murmurs.

“Anyway... I drank from the bottle, thinking that it was harmless juice. It tasted like a fruit blend. I began to feel lightheaded. They stopped to rest, then suddenly turned and attacked me. They dragged me into that hut, chained and gagged me while I was weakened, and then gleefully tortured me. But it wasn't just torture... They were practicing some ancient, barbaric religion; they saved the blood from my wounds, and some of my hair. One woman nearly plucked out my eyes, but her companion stopped her..."

As they listen to his brief but horrific account, the women clandestinely examine Valan's nude body; only his manhood is covered, hidden beneath the crumpled blanket that the villagers found in his attacker's hut. All three of the women make note of his scratches and bite marks; they're in very specific and telling places. Each of the three women imagines them being left on his body during a certain act. Their eyes glance toward one another as they listen to him speak.

“They gave me no food or water; they didn't want to remove my mask for fear that I'd bite them or cry out for help. They only took it off between intervals of drugging me with the same concoction they'd tricked me into consuming; they had many identical bottles full of that same potion. It's all I was allowed to drink... Near the end of the second night, they decided they'd had enough of me, and so they ceased their sadistic torture. They stole what few vasariks I was carrying, carved the sign that they placed outside, and then left just before dawn... For all I know, you might've seen them walking by, on their way to the docks."

“And that's all they did?" Kirsta finally asks.

“Yes. That's the truth." He gently nods.

“... Are you sure?"

“What're you implying?" He narrows his eyes, glaring at her.

“They didn't try to take anything else?"

“My vasariks, blood and hair aren't enough?!"

“I think she's just trying to understand why they wouldn't kill you after they had what they wanted." Mairlynn carefully interjects.

“I don't know... But nothing else happened." He growls.

“For two whole days?!" Jarae suddenly blurts out.

“Uhm, Jarae, maybe we should let Val-"

“No!" The Jaliscan interrupts Mairlynn. “You expect us to believe that story?! That's a cartload of horse shit!"

“You think I'm making these up?!" Valan yells, holding up an arm covered in claw marks.

“You had sex with them, didn't you?! You had two nights of fun, forgetting all about me! Er, us! Then when you were asleep, thoroughly exhausted, they chained you up, stole your vasariks and left! That's what happened, isn't it?!"

“No!"

“You're just trying to cover your own shame, aren't you?!" Jarae's voice shakes.

“You're the ones who left me there! I fought Steingar to find you! I was tricked and drugged, then held against my will in a hut within eyesight of this one! Where were you?! Did you even care that I was gone?!" Valan's voice begins to give out.

“Hey, hey!" Sovik speaks up with startling volume. “Your body is weak from these wounds, and you're at risk of infection. Drink this."

Moving away from Valan and wiping the salve from his hands, the old Falmun collects a bottle from one of his rickety shelves. He holds the bottle close to his chest, taking a second, smaller bottle that sat beside it. He mixes the potions together, pouring the contents of the smaller bottle into the larger, before handing it to Valan. He hesitates, a fearful look on his face. It isn't until he looks at the others and remembers that Sovik is a doctor that he takes the black bottle and begins to drink. Chugging the potion as fast as he can, he gasps for air and hands off the bottle to whoever is willing to collect it. Irzain takes the bottle, passing it back to Sovik. Valan turns to Jarae and holds up a finger.

“As I was saying! I... Uhm... What was I saying? ..."

Valan slumps back, swiftly passing out atop the straw mattress that so diligently cradled Irzain.

“What did you just give him?!" Jarae growls, reaching out and grabbing Sovik's tunic.

“A potion to boost his immune system." Sovik replies, smacking her clawed hand away. “I also added a little something extra to make him sleep for a few hours, because the last thing my patient needs is to be berated by an angry woman."

“I'm not angry!!!" Jarae screams.

“Then you have a funny way of being happy... His story isn't a lie, by the way. I remember the women he's talking about."

“You do?!" Kirsta gasps.

“What can you tell us about them?" Irzain asks.

“They're pureblood Lahnyt, as he said. They were here for about a month, but never caused any trouble before. Always kept to themselves, being merely interesting looking characters in the background. I never even learned their names. In fact, I hadn't even seen them interact with anyone besides each other. I just assumed they fled to Bremen because of a dislike for the Crown, as most of us here have. Clearly, I was mistaken."

“And how do you know that he didn't just have sex with them both and end up robbed afterward?" Jarae asks, her voice softening.

“So, am I to understand that he attracts women often? Is he a magnet for females, and that's why you're so upset with him?" Sovik chuckles.

“..."

Jarae looks away, a look of embarrassment and humiliation on her face.

“I believe him because of his account of the 'fruit blend' they drank." Sovik continues.

“That definitely sounded like a lie. Who would drink something that they planned to poison another with?" Mairlynn poses.

“Potions affect the sexes differently; we aren't the same, you know."

“That's obvious, but what kind of potion would intoxicate a man and leave a woman unaffected?" Irzain wonders.

“It doesn't leave them unaffected..."

The group stares in shock as Sovik speaks, the realization dawning on them.

“You know what it was!" Kirsta gasps.

“I ought to know what I made for them." Sovik replies.

“And what was it?!" Jarae presses him.

“It was..."

Sovik pauses, looking at Jarae. With her hands clutched into little balls, held near her snout, he can see her claws pressing into her palms. She shivers, but not from the pain; she's struggling to contain her anxiety. Her shimmering, pink eyes stare with obvious worry, her brow softened as she prepares for the most horrendous of news. It finally dawns on the formerly oblivious Sovik that this man is the Valan she'd spoken of days earlier. Not wanting to upset her any further, Sovik thinks fast.

“It was... Just a hallucinogen. They wanted something to help them commune with their ancient gods; they were practitioners of the barbaric religions, you see. They asked, and so I told them what was in the tonic; I didn't think they'd have alchemical knowledge. Clearly, I was mistaken about that as well. The potions I made for them would give them mild visions for 'spirit journeys' but a man would be severely incapacitated; weakened muscles, vertigo, and heightened suggestibility. To trick him into drinking it as they did, they must've known that. Perhaps they didn't kill him because they didn't feel the need, or couldn't bring themselves to do it? After all, they used a potion to make him easier to control. For my part in your friend's attack, I'm sorry, and I'll treat him free of charge."

“Thank you, Sovik." Mairlynn steps closer, patting his arm.

“Yes. You're a good man." Irzain nods.

“I'm decent; this is partially my fault, after all!"

With Sovik's explanation, Jarae breathes a little sigh of relief. However, she soon feels guilty for doubting Valan's word.

“I-I should find him some clothes." The Jaliscan speaks softly.

“There's a seamstress in this village. Her wares are simple, but she always has a supply of clothes on-hand, and I'm sure she'd be more than happy to sell to you, if you have coin." Sovik answers.

“We do." Kirsta nods.

“I'll show you where she lives."

Heading for the door, Sovik motions for them to follow. He leads Kirsta and Jarae out of his hut, leaving Irzain and Mairlynn behind as he takes the women to the seamstress. After a moment of silence, Irzain looks toward the door.

“I need to take a walk and clear my head..."

“Okay." Mairlynn replies, winding her Leinehn Egg.

“... So, I'll be back shortly."

“Uh-huh." She slowly sitting beside Valan's unconscious body.

He waits for a moment, but Mairlynn doesn't speak further. Glancing back, she's clearly distracted as she stares at the unconscious Valan. Shaking his head, a frustrated Irzain makes his way outside. Left alone with the human, more than a decade younger than her, the youthful looking Falmun woman peers over her shoulder and stares at the door. Her lips curl at the corners, forming a sinister little grin. She turns her attention back to Valan.

“Now then... How's my patient doing, hm? Perhaps I should examine you." She speaks quietly to herself.

Reaching a hand down, she rests it on his chest and glides it along his form, avoiding his wounds. Moving it lower and lower, she soon takes hold of the blanket that covers his pelvic region. Though at first, she merely lifts the old blanket, taking a peek at what lies beneath. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. She sits up and swiftly pulls the covers away, revealing the human's manhood to her. Dropping the blanket in a heap, beside his legs, she carefully reaches out her hand, her slender fingers touching his member ever so gently.

“Wow... I think I see what your problem is, sir!" Mairlynn coos.

Carefully grasping and lifting up his heavy genitals, she looks over his exceptional organ. Another hand reaches down, gently cupping his large testicles; each one takes up most of her palm. The dainty elf begins stroking his shaft, which is already girthy in a normal woman's hands, but absolutely dwarfs Mairlynn's. Unable to resist, she leans in and gives the underside of his manhood a long lick. She drags her tongue from base to tip, feeling a pleasant chill rushing through her spine like a lightning bolt as she tastes his flesh.

“Yes, I definitely know what your problem is..." She giggles, kissing the tip of his manhood. “This big thing has nowhere to go!"

The blades of grass crunch beneath Irzain's feet as he leaves Sovik's hut, and the village's well-worn trails. He still can't believe that the women would leave one of their own the way that they did. From Mairlynn's response, he's certain that they knew he was missing, so why wouldn't they take the chance and look for him? Wandering away from the village of huts and old, run-down houses, Irzain looks toward the sky. He takes a deep breath and sits upon a log on the outskirts of town. Hanging his head, he finds a little rose sitting beside his boot. Bumping the flower with the toe of his footwear, he leans forward, smelling its pleasant aroma.

He reaches out a hand and caresses the red petals, reflecting on the beauty of the flora and the world around him. For all of the terrible things that this world has to offer, there's always a little beauty that makes life worth it. Dwelling on this thought, his mind suddenly flashes back to his conversation with Valan. The gunman was adamant that the crew was nothing more than a gang of misfits, pushed together by chance; they were not, nor would they ever be, the family that Irzain claimed they were. In contrast to the peace of the forest and the rose at his feet, the realization that Valan had been abandoned weighs on the optimistic Irzain.

“... Maybe Valan was ri-ARGH!"

Pushed to the ground with considerable force, Irzain falls face-first into the grass. Looking to his left, he can see the clawed fingers of a hand. Green flesh covers their skin, distinguishing them from the other races he's recalled meeting before; this is a Lahnyt. The sleeves of a large, brown cloak, which hangs over the form of one of his two attackers, thoroughly covers the flesh of his assailant, while a hood shrouds their face.

“Get him up!" A voice orders.

The green-skinned Lahnyt obeys, pulling Irzain from the ground. Before he can speak, an unseen hand shoves a cloth into his mouth, jamming the fabric in deep.

“Look at what we caught!" The unseen voice chirps.

“Now this is a big fish!" The green-skinned Lahnyt replies.

Walking along the little trail, Kirsta, Jarae and Sovik head for the old man's hut. Tightly clutching a bundle of clothes to her chest, Jarae glances down at the outfit she'd purchased especially for Valan.

“Do you think he'll like these?" She asks, a hint of worry in her voice.

“For the last time, yes!" Kirsta sighs, growing increasingly frustrated with the anxious Jaliscan.

“They're fine. I'm sure he'll love them." Sovik chirps.

“Okay..." Jarae murmurs.

The elderly Falmun glances at her, her face showing her anxiety.

“... You really care about him, don't you?"

“Who? Valan?! ... N-no! I-I just don't want to hear that asshole complaining, th-that's all! Nobles never appreciate anything that isn't made of silk or gold. It's not like I care about him, just about being annoyed by him." She fervently asserts.

Kirsta silently rolls her sapphire eyes.

“Okay. My apologies." Sovik subdues a grin.

Returning to Sovik's hut, the old elven doctor pushes the door open, holding it for his young, female companions. Stepping inside, Kirsta immediately pauses.

“... What are you doing?!"

“Nothing!" Mairlynn swiftly replies, sitting upright and wiping a trickle of saliva from her lips. “I was just sitting here, waiting for you three to come back!"

The dainty Falmun woman flushes deeply as she pulls her hand away from the crumpled blanket that appears to have been hastily thrown back over Valan's pelvic region. Seeing this, Jarae narrows her shimmering, pink eyes, glaring suspiciously at Mairlynn. The Jaliscan sniffs the air, detecting a familiar and distinctly feminine scent emanating from the little elven woman.

“Uh-huh... You don't have to hover over him, you know." Kirsta remarks.

“I know I don't... But I want to." Mairlynn flashes an innocent grin.

Neatly folding Valan's new clothes, Jarae sets them near him, her eyes repeatedly scanning his face and body. Sovik retrieves a small cutting board and a little knife, dicing some onions and dried carrots for a soup that he's about to prepare. Kirsta glances around the hut, leaning backward and resting on her elbows.

“So, where'd Irzain run off to?"

“He took his walk, I guess." Mairlynn answers, lying on her side near Valan and watching Sovik dicing the vegetables.

“Oh... How long has he been gone?"

“I don't know. However long you've been gone." Mairlynn shrugs a shoulder.

“How do you not know?! Don't you have that tiny clock?!" Kirsta sits up, growing concerned.

“I was preoccupied." Mairlynn smirks.

“Well, check!"

“Ugh! Fine!" Mairlynn huffs, rolling her ruby eyes.

Reaching into her salmon pink shirt, she pulls on the golden chain and draws out the Leinehn Egg from between her modest, A-cup breasts. Flipping it over, she looks at the dial on the base of the clock, noting its position.

“Oh..." Her eyes widen and her body straightens.

“What is it?" Jarae asks, noting her changing posture.

“So, I wound my clock not long before you left and it read eleven-ish then... But now it's halfway between twelve and one... I didn't know you were gone that long." She nervously chuckles.

“By the Seraphs! Not him, too!" Kirsta snarls. “Come on!"

“... Me?!" Jarae askes with surprise.

“Yes, you."

“Where are we going?" The Jaliscan asks as she rises to her feet.

“To find our other idiot."

“Wait, how's this even my problem?!" Jarae retorts.

“Knowing him, he probably stopped to smell some flowers and fell into an old well or something. I'd just like you to help me find him."

Kirsta checks her weapons, unloading and reloading her crossbow pistol, making sure that it's ready for action.

“So?" She asks, her fingers flexing over the pistol grip of her weapon.

“Whatever..." Jarae grumbles.

The two women head for the door.

“Oh, while you're out, could you stop by one of the wells and fill this jug?"

“No." Kirsta quips.

“Okay!" He chirps.

With a little grin on his face, he pushes a large, clay jug toward them. It's easily capable of holding several gallons of water. Jarae picks up the jug on her way out. Standing outside for a moment, Kirsta shields her eyes from the sun, her hand against her brow. Walking around the hut, Jarae follows along, carrying the empty jug and watching curiously as they appear to do absolutely nothing resembling a search. Kirsta suddenly freezes in place and turns around, staring expectantly at the Jaliscan woman.

“... Well?!" Kirsta impatiently demands.

“Well, what?" Jarae cocks her head.

“Can't you sniff him out or something? I walked us around the hut for you."

“Do I look like a bloodhound?" Jarae glares.

“I thought your kind had a great sense of smell!"

“It's better than a human's or an elf's, but not nearly as good as the beasts! I can discern people's scents in an enclosed room, or maybe detect his scent if he was within a dozen feet of me, and recently, but that's it."

“Rrr... Great..." Kirsta grumbles. “I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way! You're going to be my sight hound instead."

"... Wench."

Sitting outside, Steingar glances over his shoulder, looking at the inn where he's already spent much of his time. After his talk with Sira, she's done her best to avoid him entirely, only coming down for food and to empty her chamber pot. When she does, she refuses to even look in his direction. Even if he wanted to apologize for his offer to take her with him, she would never give him the chance. Thankfully, at least, Rian and Dian haven't returned; their absence has spared Steingar the anger and jealousy of knowing that they're enjoying themselves with Sira, while he's been rejected by her.

Resting atop a bench, carved from a single, massive log, the Helngar warrior feels an exceptionally cool breeze rustling his two-tone, medium gray and burnt orange fur. He contemplates going back inside, just to escape the wind. Though as he shifts, preparing to rise from his seat, he pauses. His large, tapering ears perk as he hears something wholly unlike the now familiar sounds of the peaceful townsfolk going about their simple, daily lives.

“Stop fighting, damn you! You're making me sweat, and I hate sweating!" A distant voice growls.

Turning toward the voice, Steingar bolts upright, his glowing, golden eyes wide from shock. There, about two-hundred yards away, two cloaked figures drag a struggling Irzain into an old house. With a rag jammed into his mouth and held in place with a rope, tied in a bow behind his head, Irzain can only mumble into it as he puts up a considerable fight. Villagers stop and stare, wondering what's going on. Violently pushing Irzain into their house, one of the cloaked figures pauses. Turning to face them, the being pulls back their hood and Steingar gets a good look.

The pine green Lahnyt is a half-breed; flowing, platinum blonde hair is braided at the sides, his braids hanging before his thin, pointy, elf-like ears. The man's flesh has shades of lighter green spread throughout and bears darker green stripes, in a pattern that amuses Steingar; it's reminiscent of a watermelon. The hybrid Lahnyt glares with yellow eyes at the gawking bystanders.

“What're you lookin' at?! Mind your business, if you know what's good for ya'!" He roars.

The man storms into the house, behind Irzain and the other stranger. His tail disappears from view before the door slams closed.

“Shit..."

Racing toward the home, Steingar draws the only weapon he has on him; he clutches the crossbar of his exotic blade, the oversized push-dagger that's nearly the length of his forearm. Finding the nearest villager who'd been watching the unusual sight, he heads straight for them with considerable speed. A village girl, not much older than how Mairlynn appears to be, sees him coming; she looks understandably afraid.

“Hey, hey, it's alright." He speaks in a rather gentle tone, trying to calm the frightened girl. “That's my friend they just dragged in there."

“Oh." She murmurs, visibly relaxing.

“Come here for a minute." He motions to her with his free hand.

The barely teenage girl cautiously approaches him.

“Do you know an old man named Sovik? A Falmun doctor? Bald head but with a beard?"

“Yes."

“Can you or someone you know find him for me? The rest of my friends are with him."

Steingar opens his coin purse and reaches his fingers inside, pulling out a large, silver vasarik. Presenting it to the girl as payment, her eyes grow wide.

“I need them to know what's going on and come back here." He continues.

“I can do that, mister!" She exclaims, snatching the coin.

“Good girl. Move fast. I don't know how long I can keep them here."

“Are you... Going to kill those guys?" She sheepishly asks.

Steingar pauses, looking solemnly at her.

“I don't really want to, but if they don't let my friend go... I'll do whatever I have to do." He carefully answers.

“Oh... Well I hope you do, because they're jerks!" She replies.

As she darts off, eager to carry out her mission, Steingar watches her. He can't help but chuckle as the young human races away. Thankfully, these men haven't endeared themselves to the townsfolk. That would've only made this more difficult. Focusing his attention of the men's home, Steingar wonders how he's going to distract them. Surely there's something he can do to stall for time, should they try to leave. Sitting inside, Irzain is tied to a chair near the most secure corner, away from any windows and doors, the fireplace or even the workbench. Pacing back and forth, his captors bicker with each other.

“I know what's at stake, so don't remind me! We have his wanted poster!"

“Calm down, Naemen. I'm merely suggesting that we make our move sooner rather than later." The human replies.

“Yeah, but they know we're here. All we need to do is sit and wait for them, then we can all go to the boat and get him out of here." Naemen, the half-breed Lahnyt replies.

“Don't you think he has friends? Everyone saw us bringing him in here. Besides, those two visit the tavern-inn so often they're probably going to be too busy wetting their pricks to remember out arrangement. We only hired them to take us fishing; that's not exactly a high priority job for them, considering what else we've seen them transport."

“And here we've caught our biggest fish yet, Nemlik! Who would've thought this vacation of ours would turn out so well?! It's going good so far, but it can only get worse if we start running around, shaking things up! We already took a risk dragging our fish back here in broad daylight. I say we wait, Nemlik... They'll get here when they get here and then we can go. I say waiting here is the best course of action."

Crash! A rock breaks through the window glass, landing with a loud thud on the old, wooden floorboards of their claimed house.

“What the hell?!" Naemen growls, turning toward the window.

“I know you're in there! That's our friend you have, you sons of whores! If you give him back to us! ... We might let you walk away alive!"

“You were saying?" Nemlik smirks.