Completed Heal or Harm? (Pulren)

[Kechaiya]

Timestamp: Fall 33, 514 AV Location: Sunset Quarter Time: Midday Kechaiya was heading home, lugging her heavy two-gallon bucket full of water from the local well. Her arms and back strained to carry it down the dirty street. She needed it to make some of her medicines and refill her waterskin. Her eyes scanned the road ahead, noting only handful of people walking along it, everyone seeming to be avoiding one another's eyes, as was the way of Sunberth. In another city, a chivalric man might offer to help her carry her water, but here, that would be a trap of the most obvious of sorts. Just about every Sunberthian had made the mistake of trusting someone at least once, only to have it bite them in the ass. Especially these days, now that food was beyond scarce, people were starving, scared, dying. People would do desperate things for just a hint of food. Kechaiya turned down what appeared to be an empty street making her way closer to home. She turned another corner, stumbling upon two men in a heated argument. She began skirting wide around them, not wanting to provoke anyone. One of them yelled at the other, "You swore you'd be bringing me food today, and yet you came empty-handed!" There was a thud that she could only assume was a punch to the gut. "Sounds like you need a reminder not to go back on our deals." Kechaiya continued to ignore it, her back to them as she was nearing the end of the street. Suddenly there was a hard tug on her cloak, yanking her backwards off of her feet with barely an oof escaping her lips. She landed hard on her backpack, hitting her head on the dirt. Her hand went for the dagger that was always in the waist of her skirt, but soon found her wrists in the iron grips of the two men, as they began dragging her backwards. "Let's see if this little foreign bitch has any food." They yanked off her cloak, while the malnourished woman struggled against them, but they were simply too strong. They flipped her over onto her stomach, and proceeded to rip her pack from her, wrenching her shoulders hard in the process. One of them sat on on her back, pressing her the side of her face hard into the dirt, "If you don't fight, we might just take your food, a little fun after, then leave without killing you. If you fight, we will do all that anyways and then slit your pretty little throat." She could hear the other man rummaging through her pack, dumping out her medical and herbalism kits, "She ain't got nothin', petching useless whore." She felt him step up behind her, kicking her legs apart, keeping them that way with his own. "Might as well get something out of this. Hold her still." He began undoing his breeches, when Kechaiya began fighting, thrashing, as hard as she could. The man sitting on her, a bit louder than he probably intended yelled, "Stop fighting bitch! I will petching kill you!" He then grabbed her head, and slammed it into the ground. It made her a little dizzy, but thanks to the recent rain, it wasn't especially hard and solid. She didn't stop fighting, and wouldn't until she escaped or died.

[Pulren Marsh]

The Sunset Quarter. A real waste of dirt for the shanties that were built upon it, though they made up the bulk of the housing for the mercenaries and thieves of the city, as far as Pulren could tell. As the winds became cooler and Winter approached, he knew that his long walks from the Springs to to town wouldn't suffice much longer and he would have to break down and get some shelter in the area. He didn't like it, though. As Palaren, he couldn't stick out more than he did already.

Outfitted in his studded leather and carrying both shield and trident may have seemed like overkill, but it was a natural thing for him as he had been equally geared in the streets of Zeltiva as a Wave Guard. It gave him the confidence he needed to continue the charade of Palaren without feeling completely vulnerable. He felt that once he knew the ins and outs of the dirty city better, he might dress down a little more. The current state of affairs had the citizenry scampering about as rats looking for scraps. Another thing that he was familiar with being from Zeltiva. Rations were the staple, not an emergency resource there, making efficiency a must for all born in its borders.

He could hear the familiar sounds of violence around a corner, his sentry nature sending him toward trouble. The scene which unfolded made his stomach knot with anger. Two men were going through the belongings of a woman and it looked like they were just about to rape her as well. Theivery was a thing Pulren was becoming more accustomed to, but rape would never be tolerated in his heart. It sickened him as much as slavery and its evidence tightened his grip around the shaft of his trident.

"That's enough of that, gentlemen. Off of the lady and on your way." His tone pleasant but firm, like he was speaking to children. Really, the men were little more than that mentally, in Pulren's opinion. The one standing and loosening his breeches only remarked over his shoulder, "Wait your turn. We get her first." The one seated on her back laughed and continued to pin her. Rolling his neck, Pulren dropped into a crouch, a standard battle stance the Guard had given him. The shield was out in front, the trident level with his side, tines pointed out in front of the shield. Sidestepping slowly, regardless of the need of the caution, he decided to begin with a warning of sorts before blood needed to be spilled. While his rage was building, he had the presence of mind to realize that the pair could be armed and could harm the woman with a direct assault.

Rolling the trident over with his wrist, Pulren slammed the blunt end of the staff into the back of the stander's knee, sending him to it with a grimace of pain. Rolling the trident back around so that the business end was forward, he circled the seated man and his prey, insuring that the offender could see his face. "I'll say it again. Take your leave and leave the woman unharmed or there will be blood." He could see that she needed the help and he could feel his own blood pumping fiercely through his veins. He would strike them both down where they stood if they did not heed his warning.

[Kechaiya]

Amongst her struggles beneath the man that sat upon her, Kechaiya's ears picked up a rather calm, authoritative voice. She couldn't see its source, but it was a man, and it sounded as if he were behind her and the assailants. It sounded as if he were perhaps there to save her. The one standing between her legs joked, disgusting her further, accompanied by a chuckle from his companion. Kechaiya tried to push herself up, pressing her hands against the ground, straining to get up. But he was too heavy and she was too weak, and everyone there seemed to know it. She heard a heavy thud, and felt a weight fall atop on of her legs, sending a sharp pain up it. It felt as if the man dropped to his knee atop her, and a pained cry escaped her lips. The struck man was cursing and she could feel him not moving much from his pained position. She couldn't see her savior as he walked around in front of them, but she could feel his footsteps. He hadn't saved her yet, and seemed to be waiting for something. The right side of her face was pressed into the soft ground, having given up on an attempt to push herself free. But now that she wasn't struggling, she could see something that she previously hadn't. There, sticking out of the top of his boot, stretched out in front of her face, was a handle. She assumed it was attached to a blade. If this man wasn't going to save her, perhaps she didn't need him. Her hand shot out and grabbed the handle, sliding it easily from the leather. The man cracked her once in the back of the head hard, making her world spin. He started scrambling, trying to rise to his feet. Kechaiya's vision blurred, as she tried to slam the blade down into his foot. It ended up plunging itself into the soil, but the man howled in pain anyways, having just stood up, and now fell over, losing his balance on his back foot. It appeared the blade had just managed to slice a small bit of his foot to draw blood. By no means was it a crippling wound, but it got him off her. She tried to pull herself forward, her other leg still pinned under the other man. There was a sharp, schlick sound, as both men drew small swords. Kechaiya kicked backwards, striking something soft, and was able to get her leg free. The man she kicked swung his blade down at the back of her leg as she attempted to scramble away.

[Pulren Marsh]

And sometimes, no matter how Pulren tried his best to avoid it, violence was the answer. The pair of soft vagiks had proven their flaws now, heaping insult upon injury with their continued shaming and damage to the woman. The trident slid back over the wrist, tines hungry for meat. He winced as the young lady;s head was slammed back into the ground, his grip on his weapon more sure by the chime.

His body tensed at the sight of the action as it unfurled. Violence was never so charming and poetic. It came quick and with meaning. He did not cheer for the lass and her slice at one of the fools. He knew it would only speed the man's anger, pumping out like the rivulets of blood that traced over his heel. The familiar sounds of swords being unsheathed brought the scene into a very tight angle, Pulren's heart and breaths taking the main stage. First, the heel.

He couldn't stand, so his defense would be nothing. The length of his weapon killed him, as it would have been the chance to leap out and make a final slash. Pulren did not hesitate, burying his trident into the man's neck, twisting it back and forth to open a much greater stream of blood then the feet had offered. He knew this would bring a rally from the other, who was on his feet and would provide a more worthy opponent.

So goes the shield arm, pushing out and blocking the initial swing of rage, the muffled spew of insults behind it. He couldn't be sure of the woman's position now. In fact, there could be no woman. If she was blind enough to throw herself in harm's way at that point, it was up to the Gods to sort her fate. The Guard brought his shield down just enough to look over it , spying the other as he stood with his arms open, swinging the blade wildly as if to bring Pulren into range with jeers. "Come on , vagik! Oh, great hero, to put down a man who is injured. Try your luck with a man of vigor, scab!"

Pulren's response was even toned. It was quiet as well, though the man clearly heard it, his face of feigned delight turning into a scowl. "Oh, man of vigor, a hero among women, to rape rather than court. Your day has come, hero." The shield and trident turned in their angle to that of warfare. Personalities dissolved. Blood was coming. Moving in slanted sidesteps, Pulren found himself directly beside the offender, his trident dropping low. The sword came low as well, hoping for purchase beneath the cover. The shield lowered with it, the trident finding the flesh of the swordarm.

A cry rang out as the weapon slid free of the arm and the weapon clanged against the ground. Next a swift stab to the upper thigh and a stern and pleasurable smash of shield to face. Stepping away, the hero slumped down, bleeding enough. He reached over with his other arm in a vain attempt to recover. The other arm's hand was run through by tines. Sufficiently unarmed, Pulren looked to the woman, who was gathering herself. "He's your kill, by rights, miss. I'll gladly kill him if you will not, but justice may be satisfied at this moment, by your hand and blade."

The blunt end of the weapon found the ground. The shield arm rested. Pulren waited to see how it all turned out.

[Kechaiya]

Kechaiya in her scramble to escape, felt a hot a sudden, wet warmth splash all over the back of her head and face. She froze, wondering if this was what it felt like to have death come upon her suddenly. Then the blood from the captor dripped down her face and onto the back of her head. She could now feel a steady pumping of blood on the backs of her legs, that she assumed came from the man. It was the strangest of feelings, covered in blood, the heat, the sticky, slow movement of it. She could hear scuffling, men saying some strange words to each other in Common that made absolutely no sense to her. She heard a man howl in pain and then it all went eerily quiet. She realized she had a death grip on the blade in her left hand, her knuckles a bright white. Her savior's words went in one ear and took quite a while to process. Her kill? Slowly standing, she looked over, to see the man was pretty much disabled in every way. He was dead regardless of what she chose, too much blood would be lost too quickly. He'd go into shock rather soon, and Dira would take him. Her eyes locked on the injured man's, his own full of pain and rage. He was the one who was going to rape her, and now he was the one who was helpless. For a brief moment, she considered stabbing him repeatedly in the genitals. But that wouldn't appease her. He had the intent, but hadn't managed to succeed. She would grant him that which he wouldn't give her. With a feral scream, she raised the knife above her head, now grasping it in both hands. She then swung it down, dropping to both knees as she slammed the knife down deep into his heart, just left of center, sinking it all the way to the hilt. The man gasped once, and the light left his eyes forever. Kechaiya leaned back on her haunches, as waves of pain began to be noticed rolling over her body. Her head was throbbing, her body covered in aches that would become bruises. She looked over her shoulder at her savior, blood still dripping down her face, her accent thick, "Thanks."

[Pulren Marsh]

Well, she could stand. That was good proof that the rape hadn't occurred. No shaking or crying, really. Just a puzzled look in Pulren's direction and then a stern look at her attacker. The Zeltivan's face remained granite as it was a solemn occasion. Besides that, his mind was still fixed in the killing position and social graces completely escaped him. It was a time outside of time at that moment, a time to assess.

Her eyes seemed to travel down to his babymaker, which would have been the most triumphant of revenges, but then she seemed to regain her focus. The scream which pierced the previous silence was stark and visceral, much like the scene and her current state of dress. Pulren watched as she dropped into the man, her strike quite fixed and firm for such a dramatic stabbing. He felt the urge to applaud her but thought better of it, instead waiting to see what happened next. He felt bad for her, but not so much as to try to comfort her. She was doing a fine job of self comforting.

Her accent was foreign but her look was understood and returned with a nod and a slight grin. "You are most welcome, Miss." With the scene at its end, the sounds of the city rushed back into Pulren's ears and his breathing began to slow down. His heart still thrummed away, but not to the massive crescendo that bloodletting had brought to him. He placed his shield on the ground next to the wall of the alley and sat on it, trident across his lap. "I am Palaren Marshall. How can I be of further assistance?"

[Kechaiya]

Kechaiya just sat there, in pain, covered in another person's blood, listening and watching the man, whose name was Palaren apparently. She looked down at her former attackers, seeing the many still bleeding holes in their corpses. Her first instinct was to loot the bodies, but the sticky, hot feeling of the blood on her skin was wholly unsettling. Her eyes turned eastward the need to bathe growing ever stronger in each passing moment. The coast wasn't too far from here, and she could rinse out her clothes and bathe there.

Dark eyes turned back to Palaren, sitting rather aloofly, "Why you save me? What you want?" After all, every Sunberthian was self serving, herself included. No one helped anyone without a selfish motive of some sort. Though there was always the chance he wasn't a Sunberthian, like she had once been. Perhaps he was one of those Syliran Knights she'd heard stories of, riding on horses the size of houses and fighting the gods with ease.

Struggling a bit at the bodily pain, she rose to her feet. Bending over to pick up her pack, she felt a spike of pain in her shoulders from the wrenching earlier, a hiss escaping through her teeth. Grabbing the leather, she began putting all of her belongings back in, as well as her cloak. No sense in getting it bloody too. She'd inspect it all when she returned home, seeing no point in doing so now. Walking painfully over to the man, digging into her coin purse, grabbing two golds, and offering them to him. "Two more if escort to coast, need clean up. And... I Kechaiya."

[Pulren Marsh]

Both excellent questions. The longer that Pulren spent in Sunberth, the clearer it became that its residents always expected an angle or an ambush. It made him wonder why they chose to stay in such a shykehole. "You needed saving, as far as I could tell. Why? Because I don't like rapists. Now, both problems are solved." Smiling, he stood up from the brief respite, taking his shield and weapon back in hand.

Her accent was thick and from somewhere he had never heard before. She also had an exotic look to her, her skin was darker, her face shaped differently. He felt sympathy for her, but chose not to assist her in gathering her belongings, as she didn't ask him to help and she had probably had enough male attention for a moment. He just looked over the dead, half sorry that they couldn't be buried properly. They were rapists in life and deserved their death, but in death, their bodies would normally be interred probably. He just shrugged and waited on her to gather her belongings.

He watched her dig into her purse and then present the money. He shook his head and his hand and smiled. "I'll escort you for no gold. I didn't help you for money. Do you want me to carry your pack for you until we get there?" He stepped out of the alley first, waiting for her. "Whenever you're ready, Kechaiya."

[Kechaiya]

Kechaiya was not going to say no to keeping her money. If he didn't want it, that was on him, she could certainly spend it on more useful things anyways. He seemed like a decent enough man, and despite being a killer, albeit a heroic one, she could safely assume that he wasn't a rapist. But when he made the offer to carry her pack, she immediately assumed it was a trick. He would take her pack, that which carried the most important things in the world to her. It had all the tools for her trade, for the only things that she had any skill in. Without it, she had nothing. She clutched it tight to her chest, shooting a suspicious glare at him.

"You escort, thanks you. I carry pack."

With a curt nod, she turned and made her way out of the alley, then turned eastward toward the coast. Kech did feel obligated to converse with this man as they walked, since he did save her, and for nothing. "Where learn fight with that... forkspear? Never seen forkspear before." Kechaiya had a lot more experience with wounds than weapons. She knew of many standard types, knives, swords, axes, spears, bows. But this, this was something else entirely. And it had been incredibly effective. It probably damaged bone when swung, and looked as if it could pierce anything with those tines. The shield was especially surprising in Sunberth. It was wooden after all, but there were very few shield users in this city. Maybe they were too expensive, or just not in style, but it mattered not. They were rare.

"What you do? I doctor. Fix people."

She could see the first of the docks in the distance, a few small masts sticking up over the buildings. She sniffed at the air, only now smelling the sea air over the smell of rot, mud, and shyke the city normally smelled of. She had a specific destination in mind, that would require a hard left turn at the docks, to head northward. It was a section of docks known as 'Dead Man's Swagger' at the extreme north end of the docks. It was the sketchiest section of docks, known for suicides. But Kechaiya enjoyed using it to bathe, simple because there was never a ship there or anyone else for that matter. She didn't care about being seen naked by strangers, but as the recent attack showed, there were rapists about. There was a large group of burly men walking up the road they were walking down. Kech moved closer to her partner, a bit of comfort, feeling a bit more vulnerable and exposed after the attack.

[Pulren Marsh]

The look on her face when he asked to carry her pack brought a muffled chuckle to Pulren's chest. It was as if she thought he would steal it. Of course, this was the usual reaction of Sunberthians, though she certainly didn't appear to be a native. Looks were always deceiving, however. He shrugged, still finding the situation funny. Sometimes after stressful situations, a laugh was in order. Better than the other sounds a mind could make.

As they walked along, Kechaiya made conversation, which Pulren appreciated. So many of the city treated conversation much like the way she had treated her pack; a secret, something to be meted out and never given freely. The whole air of the city was beginning to wear faint traces on the Guardsman. Twirling the shaft in his hand, causing the tines to spin before grasping again, Pulren happily answered. "It is a trident. Where I come from it is the weapon of the sea. Our statues of Laviku wield them, so why not also wield the weapon of our Deity?" He felt a swell of pride, which pushed the tide of sadness away, though it quickly started rolling back in as a pang of homesickness.

The thoughts of the Wave Guard, Mathews Bay and the University clouded Pulren's mind enough that when asked what he did, it just came out of his mouth, naturally. "I'm a city guard. Well, the docks and harbor, specifically." As he continued to walk, it occurred to him his mistake, but it had already been said. Palaren would just have to be a Guard for this foreign speaking doctor. At least he had gotten his name right. "Your eyes are familiar to me. I had a friend from school in Zeltiva with black eyes like that. What does it mean?" He had never asked Lani out of respect, since they were often in close quarters. Pulren didn't know if he would ever see this lady again, however.

When they passed the three men, Pulren simply stepped to the other side, switching trident for shield in hands and being a barrier for his charge. Some comments were made about an exotic blood soaked woman, but he hoped that her bad Common would save her from their crudeness. As if she hadn't received enough of that for the day.