Rove
South-west of Fool’s Point, The Grasping Isle
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/554030201789743105/1028654515798409237/Grasping_Isle_Final_V1.0.png]
Map made by Mark Evegaars, writer of this story
A few days had passed since their fateful encounter with Prado and the archway. Between the frankly near-miraculous healing abilities of Ayuen’s and Trïeste’s magic and the latter’s poultices, it didn’t take long for Rove to be able to heal up well enough to move around. It was rather surprising and honestly, almost ridiculous. Both the women’s skills and the resources they were using were ridiculous.
He was still weak the morning after they’d resumed travelling, and his mind had drifted towards the amount of resources they were putting into his recovery. Trïeste’s herbs alone must have cost a couple of hands. When he tried to protest, he was met with a cold Trïeste and Ayuen’s delicate finger pressed against his lips. The Pyrn woman had shaken her head, a look in her eyes that was equally gentle as it was definitive. Her gaze was more effective in putting in down than any wounds he still had. By Terraz’ Temper...
Feelings he didn’t want to deal with boiled up from under the surface, only to simmer and annoy him as Ayuen did her thing.
During their retreat from the valley, the group had settled on heading for the northeastern part of the Grasping Isle instead of heading back to Tinkerspring. There was a small town called Fool’s Point there. Ayuen had explained that she needed to get closer to the mainland so she could use some kind of magic gadget to get to her home city of Marlight. The woman had a scroll capable to transport them great distances. Being in the middle of the wilderness as they were, the closest harbour they could reach on time happened to be Fool’s Point. And with a bit of luck, a good colleague of his would be around there too. Rove had chipped in at that point, thinking back to his conversation with Mearn all those weeks ago. It felt more like years at this point. Still, there was a chance that she would be there. Rove just hoped that Legria would twist the probabilities in their favour and let her be in town when they arrived. Aral be damned, he had never prayed to the Arals this often in his life.
He also had taken a look at the fruit that she’d found beyond the arch. The Herhor couldn’t resist the bubbling curiosity roiling inside of him. The object he had wagered his life for. And although he had hoped it would be disappointing, it was strange and mythical.
The damn thing played tricks with his eyes. Every time he blinked, it looked different. It was interesting and even a bit scary, but a fruit with an identity crisis wasn’t his cup of tea. Better to leave it alone and have the experts take care of it.
As they trekked north, it occurred to him that something felt off about Ayuen. Not off like Sneak’s brokenness, but the poet had changed more subtly and seemingly for the better. She was more light-hearted, making small talk with both him and Triëste, checking on Sneak every once in a while. All with a genuine smile on her face. It almost seemed like a load had been lifted from those narrow, supple shoulders of hers. Her wings relaxed and rustled, free in the pleasantly cool mountain air. To be fair, the expression suited her much more than the tense one that had always hidden under the surface.
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When they were about two days away from Fool’s Point, Sneak finally snapped out of his stupor. As the four of them were having dinner, Trïeste had been forced to make the man eat by herself, much to her chagrin. Still, the alchemist had declined Ayuen offer to help. The inferno in her eyes had taken both him and Ayuen by surprise. He knew that Trïeste felt indebted to Sneak after he saved her life, but to see this sort of passion from her was unexpected.
Ever since she’d put up her cheerful façade when they first met, he didn’t see this kind of fire coming from the small half-Vysari woman. If he hadn’t been used to intimidating people, he could even call it frightening. Made him remember that she had been working as a knife for hire.
After feeding the man for several days, the lunatic just mumbling to himself all the while, he had finally stopped. Suddenly movement, he grabbed Trïeste’s hand and took her completely by surprise. The spoon she was feeding Sneak with flew right through the camp, barely missing him causing him to grunt in pain as he strained his bandages. Unfortunately, the food that was on the spoon a moment ago didn’t miss him. The result? A grimacing face full of rabbit and gravy. Why did everything always seem to fly in his direction? Not only arrows but now also spoons of gravy? Blazes be damned.
Glaring at Ayuen, the woman busy with not bursting out in laughter, he cleaned his face. Sneak seemed as though he had awoken from a slumber, the man letting out a stream of quickly spoken words. The confused ramble got slightly more coherent as Trïeste managed to calm the frantic man down, Sneak’s head whipping from side to side as if looking for unseen assailants.
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Laying down a napkin, the Herhor raised one last eyebrow at Ayuen, the woman covering her mouth with a hand before giving him a playful wink. The damned woman was having too much fun with this. His eyes slid over to Sneak.
“Sneak, explain.” He said, his voice brusk and a bit more annoyed than he meant to sound.
His words reaching the other man’s ears, he stopped the stream of words he was exchanging with the half-Vysari in front of him. Sneak’s eyes met his and the man frowned, his thoughts doubtlessly running wild.
“Sneak… Sneak doesn’t know. M’ster Hod whispered some words to Sneak. Made Sneak mind go all mushy and weird. Saw pictures. Felt feelin’s. Body remembered things Sneak didn’t know it could remember.”
What was that supposed to mean? Rove tilted his head and copied Sneak’s frown with one of his own.
“So Hod showed you something you thought you had forgotten.”
“Sneak thinks so, yes.”
He gestured for Sneak to continue, making small circles with his hand.
“Can you tell us what?”
Sneak nodded and his eyes glazed over for a second while the man thought about it.
“ Sneak remembers fancy clothes and fancy blades. Clean halls and laughter. Then roads and dust. And then less happy things.”
A huge shiver took hold of the man as he recalled the memory. “Then all kinds of purple colours and formless shapes and then pain. After that… only weirdness. Numbers. Counting.”
“Okaaay,” Rove said, creeped out. “Now, what in the name of Hudol’s Glorious Beard has that anything to do with you? You were a posh gentleman or something before you became a nobody?”
Sneak nodded and shrugged. Not really what Rove had expected. Still, he felt himself intrigued by the man’s past. His history was checkered too, to say the least.
“Can you explain more, Sneak? Which country, which city? Any clues you could give us?”
“I came from Rondin in the Paros Empire.” Sneak immediately responded. “I was there fifteen years, nine months, three weeks, tw-…”
“Okay okay, I get it. I get it.” Rove interrupted, not interested in a second accurate recounting of Sneak’s prior life.
“So you were some kind of noble about fifteen years ago. You began travelling, obviously. And then came the colour and formless shapes.”
He scratched his chin, feeling his beard scratch against the marred skin of his fingers.
“I’ll be honest. No idea about any formless shapes and purple colours. Sounds like magic mumbo jumbo to me.”
He wondered if Ayuen would know anything about it. And of course, that look on her face told him she was already going through that vast library she had inside that skull of hers. Patiently, he waited until she flipped through the pages of her mental books. When the focused vacant look left her eyes, Rove was looking at her expectantly together with the other two. A cute red blush flooded her cheeks and she cleared her throat with a soft rasp. It almost made him chuckle, but he was able to keep it to a smile instead. His curiosity was stronger than his need for teasy vengeance.
“Well, I think I have a vague idea of what happened.” The poet started. “Sneak, do you know the general areas where your travels went? Anything about going to the Night of Life or anything along those lines?”
“Night of Life?” Sneak responded with doubt in his voice. “Sneak doesn’t know that name.”
“Are you sure? Because with ‘all kinds of purple colour and formless shapes’, only that place comes to mind for me.”
“Sneak does not know for sure. But maybe it’s true. Could be possible.”
The sentence made Rove frown. The way he said it just wasn’t Sneak. Less crazy and random than before. What magic words had Hod said to him?
“Maybe Hod tried to fix your mind.” Rove then said, thinking to himself. “Couldn’t bear to see a guy like you walk around all broken and raving. So, he whispered some healing words in your ear.” He snuck a glance towards Trïeste. “Is that a thing, Trïeste? Healing somebody’s mind with a few magic words?”
Trïeste immediately shook her head. “Nope, not that I’m aware of. Even the most skilled Spellguides I know of can’t restore the mind that easily. Some of them could do it, sure. But it would take them days, maybe even weeks, for them to repair a broken mind.”
Rove shrugged. That was the best idea he had. “At any rate, why do we care about how Hod did it? There’s only one question that matters. Sneak?”
The man looked at him and the madman’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Master Rove?”
“Does it hurt or feel bad in any way?”
A couple of seconds of thought and silence.
“No, Sneak guesses it does not.”
The Herhor raised his hands, falling back into the grass he sat in. “And there’s that. Nothing else matters for now, at least not to me. Let’s leave the ‘how’ for later and just be happy Sneak’s seemingly got part of his sanity back. For better or for worse.”
Now all eyes were on him.
“Not that I disagree with your disposition of leaving the ‘how’ for later, Rove,” Ayuen said softly, scolding him. “But it could still be dangerous. And why would being less mad be for the worse?”
“We don’t know what made him go mad in the first place. We don’t want to provoke him, right? Besides, even I act crazy and stupid from time to time. People can’t stay forever serious. Not even me.”
As he looked up at the handsome Pyrn woman sitting next to him, he could see the corners of her lips curl up. “Oh? And what would constitute ‘acting all crazy and stupid’ in your book then, Rove?”
He huffed and scoffed at the question, missing the glimmer in Ayuen’s eyes.
“Drinking. Looking at women. Picking a fight at the bar and throwing mugs of water ale at people. That sort of stuff. You should try it sometime, I am sure you’ll find the whole experience quite refreshing.”
“I think I’ll pass for the time being.” Ayuen coiled a strand of hair around her finger as she looked away. “But after we’re done, I’m okay with watching while you frolic about. I’ll even write a poem about your tavern exploits.”
“If you’re going to write poems about me, Ayuen, you might be better off describing my gracious swordplay instead.”
“Your swordplay? As much of a comedy that would be, I believe it would be significantly more amusing to put your taverns hijinx to paper.”
He exorbitantly rolled his eyes and turned on his side, facing away from Ayuen. Missing the way Ayuen slowly licked her lips as she looked at him.
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Paros Empire Heraldry made by Mark Evegaars, writer of this story