Click the names here or anywhere in the log to toggle filtering for that character.
----------------------------------------------
OUTSIDE THE WEST GATE - MORNING
----------------------------------------------
Froge huffs, hands scrambling over the rocks of a slope leading up to the plains outside Respite, wind kicking up a wave of sand into the air that the amphibian shields his face against. He sees the now familiar walls ahead, taking a breath as he kicks back into a scrambling run. Within a few minutes he's nearly breathless, stumbling through the light scrub to the side of a little used West road, turning to look at the gate in the distance.
Fiora is on her usual morning job, taking a long route around the gates this morning, jogging around towards the West Gate just to change things up. She's not exactly looking for trouble, but like, you know if trouble just happens to show up she's totally fine with that. Brunilda's talk about wrestling sand crocodiles or whatever sounds fun. Get your heartrate up early.
Froge spots a vaguely familiar figure coming into view near the gate. He huffs in a few breaths before breaking into a slow jog, waving and shouting to get the figure's attention. "Hey! Heeey! I need you -huff- your help! Don't run away!" He struggles to keep up his pace and shout at the same time, slowing to breathe with a raspy croak behind each exhale.
Fiora's ears tilt at the shouts, and she slows her pace at the approaching figure. She's wearing her usual jogging outfit, just a relatively sweaty undershirt, though today she's also in her legguards and greaves, because, okay, sure, maybe she WAS looking for trouble. She spots the incoming frog and glances around, looking for anything else following him. "Eh? You're that gas seller, right? Froge?"
Froge stumbles slightly, stopping to properly catch his breath as the gap between them closes to roughly twenty feet. The raspy croak still underlines his breaths and words as the poor amphibian tries to cope with his unwanted excercise. "Y-yes... You liked... The reeded gas, yes? Wait... No time to talk about firegas..." He plants his webbed hands on his knees, his breathing starting to level out.
Fiora nods a bit in confusion, "Yeah, so what's all the shouting? Crocodiles? Bandits? Uh... some kind big... monster... thing? Cause I am hot and bored and just fine beating the hell out of something right now."
Froge coughs, standing up straight again. "A lizard, down by the beach! There were chunks everywhere, and I had to leave my sled, couldn't move the hurt one, faster to run back to Respite than home! You're strong yes? Can help?"
Fiora groans, "Aww, nothing attacking? Well... maybe a sea monster is trying to eat them?" She shakes her head. "Yeah, alright. Which way? I'm guessing I can get there faster on my own, but I don't know the area very well."
Froge turns, pointing to roughly where the Western mountains would end, if the fourteen kilometers of hills, rocky dropoffs and short scrub weren't hiding the root. Beyond them, the Southwest Bay sits calm, but shallow. "I go straight for the bottom of the mountain, there... It's not the fastest way, but is very safe. I wouldn't ask you to go by yourself, but I think I'm too tired to be fast."
Fiora chuckles, eying the route. "Eh, I've been through worse. Catch your breath and follow when you can, and let one of those dopes up on the wall know!" She points over her shoulder towards the guards up on the wall. "And wish me luck, I guess."
Froge turns, looking to where she's pointing. Of course, getting a guard was his original plan, but not taking them away from their posts seems like a better idea. He nods to her, giving a smile. "Yes, I can do that! Best luck for you, I'll hopefully see you soon!" He gives her a quick nod before hopping into a quick jog towards the gates, croaking quietly along the way.
Fiora immediately sprints off in the direction Froge indicated, adrenaline up and ready for anything, even if it is just a rescue mission of sorts, it's still a good change of pace!
----------------------------------------------
SOUTHWEST BAY - MID-MORNING
----------------------------------------------
Narrator: The sun is less unforgiving nearer to the bay, a couple fluffy clouds overhead chased inland by the winds. Out over the water, storm clouds rage, though their presence is no threat to the shore, their winds have been sending good sized waves into the bay where they crash in the shallows. With the waves, the shrapnel of a small ship has washed in, and lying halfway onto one barely intact chunk of boat is a tangled mess of seaweed. There's similar seaweed scattered all over the sand nearby, which Froge had tossed while exposing the head, arms and a leg, all covered in dark blue scales and barely moving with breath. Froge's sled sits up the beach, tracks leading from the scrub that edges the sand to where it sits not ten feet from the weeded lizard.
Fiora slows her pace as her armored boots hit the deeper sand after sprinting the past twenty minutes to reach the beach. She stands tall in her full armor, scanning the land ,though Froge's sled is easy enough to spot. She moves carefully through the shifting sands towards the body, watching carefully for other threats.
Narrator: The beach is more or less peaceful, though evidence of animals coming from the scrub to pick up washed up fish can be seen in tracks above the tide line. The lizard remains unmoving on the driftwood, though he seems to be breathing. The wind picks up and causes the scrub to shuffle a bit.
Fiora makes her way towards the lizard, as of yet wary, but without an obvious threat nearby, she unlatches her helmet and sets it down atop Froge's sled, then picks up the pace to reach the poor creature's side. Although she's far from a trained medical professional, she's informed enough in combat injuries and first aid that maybe she help. Though, she glances at the lizard's legs and cringes. "Oof... not discounting the sea monster theory..."
Narrator: Under the seaweed near the lizard's shoulders, a heavily damaged cotton shirt barely hides the scales that have been stripped away in jagged cuts from shallow rocks and hurling wreckage. The seaweed itself hides more similar wounds, and a pelvis that wouldn't look right to a commoner, which also leaves his damaged legs splayed at strange angles. The wind comes in over another wave, stirring sand and shrubs again.
Fiora hmphs, sniffing the air as the wind blows across her face. "You gonna bleed to death if I life you up, scaley? You don't look dead to me, though I'll bet you wish you were, judging by the looks of ya." She's more just talking to herself, not expecting an answer as she begins to position herself to lift the lizard out of the sand. She hefts him up as gently as she dares.
Tarbin groans as he is hauled up, the bulk of the seaweed slipping from him, revealing tattered pants, the other leg, and a tail... And another tail, the two joining together near the base and each having roughly two thirds the heft of an average tail. Other than his slight groan, though, Tarbin remains unmoving outside of his breathing.
Fiora hefts the figure up over her shoulder and carefully carries them towards Froge's sled, "Good. You're making noise at least. Better then not." She carefully sets him back down on the sled, splayed atop the various pieces of cargo. She takes a moment to make sure he's secured and, well, not exactly 'comfy', but not going to get any worse off then he currently is, then looks back over the wreckage for any other signs of life. "Well, you're either the luckiest bastard around, or the unluckiest."
Tarbin grunts as he's set down, muttering something in an odd dialect, his eyelids fluttering and fingers on one hand clenching tight before he slips back into peaceful unconsciousness. The now exposed wounds on his back aren't particularly deep, but the damaged bones in his hips and legs are blatantly worse off than his scaly exterior.
Narrator: The wind from the bay settles, leaving sand and leaf calm once more. There are no others among the strewn wreckage, though evidence in the surviving cargo might suggest he had certainly not been alone. The damaged scrubs from where Froge and Fiora had entered the beach begin to rustle, accompanied by a raspy, heavy breath.
Fiora's ears twitch once more at the new noise of heavy breathing as she reaches for her helmet, "Eh?" She raises her voice in challenge, "Hey! You here to help, or get beaten up!? Come on out so I can see ya!"
Narrator: The bushes stop rustling briefly at her shout, but as if understanding her command, a short, toothy snout pokes through the bushes, followed by the scraggly fur of a lone coyote, it's wary eyes on Fiora as the keen nose hones in on the source of blood smell, as mixed as it is with seaweed and salt water. The coyote cautiously walks along the side of the scrub, brushing the branches with it's shoulder and tail as it slowly closes the distance between them.
Fiora snorts, "Well it's something." She lifts her helmet and dons it, then strides forward, positioning herself between the lizard and the coyote, loudly knocking her fists together, letting the metal on metal of her armored gauntets speak volumes.
Narrator: The wild dog stops in it's tracks, growling and lowering it's head at Fiora's apparent challenge. The ribs on it's sides show how hungry and desperate it may be, but a lone coyote isn't likely to risk it's life for a meal. It briefly looks beyond Fiora at the laid-out lizard, it's ears perking up briefly before it looks back to Fiora and growls louder.
Fiora keeps one eye on the lizard behind her, ensuring there's nothing flanking her, all while staring down the coyote, and impressive, (perhaps impossible?) feat through the limited visor of her helmet. She'd growl back if it didn't break character. Instead, she waits, not backing down, and slowly shifts her position to get ready to take up the reins of the sled and pull it off the beach before more crap comes looking for an (if not for her) easy meal.
Narrator: The coyote lowers itself, yipping as it takes off in an arc around to Fiora's right, trying to circle around the armored giraffe to the waiting feast behind her.
Fiora watches as the coyote makes the wrong move, which is to say any direction but away from Fiora. It arcs right, and Fiora is already in motion fists raised as she shifts along the trajectory of its arc, remaining between it and the sled. Something this big and heavy should not move this fast, and when the coyote tries to dart in towards the sled, it is instead met by Fiora's armored fist.
Narrator: The lizard stirs slightly at the clattering armor and yelp of an injured coyote, his eyes fluttering open briefly before he lips away again. The wild beast rolls away from Fiora after taking the hit, shaking it's head and yapping as it gets up and circles away from the giraffe, it's daze evident by the staggering steps as the coyote trots unsteadily toward the scrub, whining along the way.
Fiora feels pretty proud of herself in the moment; another item checked off her bucketlist; punch a coyote. She glances back at the lizard, noting his movements. Then stands tall again, reaching down to take the sled's rope. taking a moment to scan around her, she begins to pull the sled while there's an open window of opportunity.
Tarbin stirs slightly, the movement of the sled bringing his mind out of the darkness but offering no clarity. He has the presence to grip the front edge of the sled to prevent himself from dragging too much, but when he tries to speak, it comes in raspy half words of a language not hear on this continent before. His eyes remain closed after gripping the sled, and eventually his rambling falls off to grunts at bumps.
Fiora continues to keep an eye on her passenger as she continues to jog back towards town, doing her best to keep the sled on even terrain, and hoping that Froge is there waiting with a few guards who can get this guy properly treated, whoever the hell he is...
Narrator: The trip back towards town is uneventful, helped by the noise of Fiora's armor and that of the empty glass vials in the crate Tarbin lays upon. Fiora's hopes are fulfilled early as Froge and two guards with a proper cart meet her on the West road well outside of the West Gate, taking the wounded lizard straight back after quickly requesting that Fiora and Froge make an appearance at the barracks for some questions.
----------------------------------------------
ERIKA'S GARDEN - EVENING
----------------------------------------------
Erika lays down in the middle of her garden, on the picnic blanket she and Cavro have been using. Done for the day, she looks about the growth around her, happy how much she has been able to keep up despite her predicament... still, she's clearly waiting for some news.
Doc Plume walks up to the gate to the garden and gently rings the bell that's been installed on one of the posts. "Erika?"
Erika perks up at the voice that she may or may not have been eagerly waiting for: "Here!"
Doc Plume opens the gate and steps inside, treading carefully as they walk through the well-kept rows of plants in the garden. "Well, it's done. The distillation went according to the parameters we discussed and Garwin has been dosed with the tincture, so now we just have to wait for a while..."
Erika shifts her position on the ground, looking at Plume with a small smile: "Well... h-here's hoping. It should, but..." She leaves unsaid the mountain of obvious worries she's been carrying with her for weeks.
Doc Plume nods. "It's untested, certainly, but with all our knowledge combined, it's the best bet we have." They crouch down and reach out a hand to rest on the Okapi's shoulders comfortingly.
Erika sighs, leaning her head towards Plume a bit: "Yeah... thank you. It's hard to not think about the 'what if's though."
Doc Plume nods. "One step at a time. If... then we try again. And again. I won't give up on this... on you... and Garwin and Victoria."
Erika smiles: "Yeah... gotta get them back. I can't just think of myself."
Doc Plume looks around the garden. "Yes. Have you talked with Victoria yet? Having someone going through the same thing as you to talk to would be a comfort, I think?"
Erika nods, thinking: "She seemed... pretty comfortable. Like she's barely changed at all. Always thought she was a bit creepy though, so maybe I'm not the most impartial of judges here."
Doc Plume shakes their head. "Fair enough. I don't know her from before, so I'll take your word for it." They stand up and look around the garden. "Things are looking really good here, by the way. Those tools Cavro made for you seem to be doing the trick..."
Erika glances at the pile of metal tools, frowning a bit: "Far from practical, but time is all I have now." She sighs a bit: "Guess we'll see in the morning if I'll need these for the long haul."
Doc Plume looks around the garden more. "Have you tried replanting the one complete sample yet?"
Erika shakes her head, then looks at Plume: "No. Can't control it enough."
Doc Plume nods. "All right... I don't blame you for being overly cautious around it. We'll just have to work with the dead samples. Hopefully we won't have to send another expedition out for more." They stand up. "I mean, hopefully by lunchtime tomorrow Garwin will be right as rain and we can work on dosing you and Victoria properly..."
Erika nods slowly: "I... y-yeah. I'll plant it if I have to, but I'd rather not."
Doc Plume frowns a bit but nods. "Of course..." They watch Erika for a moment. "I should get back, have some dinner and the like. I'll come update you tomorrow, hopefully with good news."
Erika looks at Plume with a smile. "As said... here's hoping. See you tomorrow."
Doc Plume heads back to the gate and nods to Erika. "Take care, Erika."