Desirea - Mulled Memories

Game date: 2/7/2012

 Another fruitless day searching the swamp. Aside from a stray squad of retreating elves, they'd found no soldiers to harass. As for siege equipment, the marsh greedily guarded its stolen treasures so far.

Desirea eased into the hot bath, grateful for this perk of office. She carefully applied a flame spell to the metal mug in her hand. Both the tub and the mug bore permanent scorch marks, but she could live with that.  As the water worked its magic on sore muscles, the heated liquor eased her sore throat and helped random memories surface.

The first day she'd had this particular drink...

-=+=-

"Eidolon, would you please explain these...unusual requisitions?" the Count asked.

"Wa-" the elven woman croaked, then coughed - a dry, hacking noise. She continued, whispering. "Wot 'uns d'ya call hunYOOsual?"

"Let's start with the armor," Vaedryn said, silently noting the atypical lack of volume in her voice. "Don't mounted knights generally have armor already issued?"

She nodded. "Hit's too 'eavy. 'adda cobber fa' doon an' 'e coulden' gettup. But ay canna hask 'em t'foight wi na proTECKshun, cannoi?"

Sereb's son nodded, and rose from his chair.  "You do know that what you're asking for is rather expensive, yes?"  He crossed to a row of shelves and began pulling various boxes and jars from them.

"Ay," she rasped, "but look 'ere. Ay'll henchant them mayself, and ay'll e'en bayjem tha stuff aoutta may own pocket." Another dry cough.

The Count took his ingredients to a small tabletop cauldron and lit a fire under it. "I can't promise you silksteel, but I will get the best I can manage. Five sets, yes?"  He began to mix substances in the cooking pot, glancing up to see Desirea nod.

"Moving on... Potions of detection I understand, as with healing. But why water breathing, pray tell?"

She cleared her throat. "We nayd ta bay able ta blend inta th' swamp. Wa'er brayvin' let's us 'oide unner th' sayrface."

Vaedryn nodded again, and poured a portion of the mixture into a handled cup. "All right, but why so many of them?"  He handed the cup to the Eidolon.

"Tykes twoice as much fer 'orses."  She accepted the brew and sniffed, then eagerly took a large mouthful.  The hot liquid felt like golden magic to her throat. "Cor, tha's good," she exclaimed - not at her usual volume, but definitely no longer a raspy whisper. "Wot kinna witch's brew izzit?"

"Hmm," the Count pondered. "Well, it is a prized secret, but I suppose I can tell you. This potion contains cinnamon, cloves, allspice berries, oranges, and fermented apple juice. With a bit of honey. Witches call it 'mulled cider'."

He sat down at his desk once more, steepled his fingers, and said,"Suppose you outline your strategies for me."

Desi was just glad that he hadn't asked how she lost her voice.

-=+=-

The squad's first training session in the actual swamp was drawing to a close. "Thass enuff," the Commander called out to the five men under her command. "May bum's saddle sores 'av got bums wif saddle sores."  She stood in the stirrups to relieve some of the pressure, and that was when the leg cramp hit.

Desirea yelped as the cramped leg buckled, pitching her head-first into knee-deep brackish water. Under the surface she stayed for a few seconds, feeling humiliated over her poor performance.  Then she started hearing muffled voices and splashing. 

They can't find me, she thought. They're trying to find me and they can't.  After a moment's consideration, she cast a water breathing spell upon herself. Let's see what they do.

She began to count her own heartbeats.  Fifty passed...then a hundred...two hundred.  The voices grew fainter and louder, the splashing more frantic.  The water smelled and tasted terrible, and she had nearly decided to surface on her own when a rough hand grabbed her tunic collar and yanked upward, pulling the garment half off her body while lifting her completely out of the water.

"I found her!" Rodoald shouted, and shook his commander like a wet rag.  "Are you all right?"

Desi spit rancid water in his face and laughed.  "Ay'm foin, ya git! Put may daown." Which he did, post-haste, and backed away a step.

"Y'should say a'yer fyces!" the Eidolon exclaimed. "Way're sao gonner use that STRAtegay when-"  She stopped talking. Five faces were staring at her in what looked like shock.

"Wossmattayr, ay tol'ya ay'm arrayt..." One of the men - Barton - pointed at her chest.  She looked down to see that her tunic was ripped, exposing most of her torso.

"Aow, vat's rayl maCHOOR o'ya-"

"Leech," Barton said.  She looked downward again.

A huge, flat, black worm - easily the biggest leech Desirea had ever seen - was attached to her breast like an infant. She saw its body ripple as it swallowed.

The first scream was reactionary, borne of shock and, let's be honest, fright. It was possibly the girliest sound to escape her lips in decades. The shriek echoed off the waters of the swamp and, distorted by the various trees, carried for miles.

When she had finally spent all the air in her lungs, the dark elf drew in a deep breath and swore in rage. She dusted off words and phrases which had rarely seen the light of day, learned in the brig of a pirate's ship, most in languages she didn't even understand.  Some words she made up on the spot.  All were equally incomprehensible, though obviously the intent was to consign the abominable thing to the foulest depths of Hell.  With a final curse, she grasped the slimy creature and yanked it away from her flesh.

The third scream was pure pain.

A couple of knights moved to help, but she batted them away, arms flailing, until her vision started to fade. She stood shakily for a few seconds, bent at the waist and hands on her knees, raggedly gasping.

"Less...gao...'ome," she whispered, voice spent.

It was not her finest hour.

-=+=-

"Sa ennyways, thass it. Wotchar thank?"

Vaedryn's chin was cupped in one hand, hiding his expression, but his eyes were crinkled at the corners.  When he put his arms on the desktop, his face was unreadable.  "That is certainly an...unusual...use for mounted cavalry," he stated.

"Yeh, well, ay'm doin' the best ay can wif wot ay knaow," the Eidolon replied. 'Wazzit hup ta may, ay'd a picked a baird, a clayric, anna couple hasSASsins.  Cor, iffen ay coulda 'ad yer woif an' Neziji, way'd givvem a'wot-for."

"Perhaps you would, at that, but they're leading troops as well," the Count replied.

He smiled. "Make use of whatever you can from the Room of Alms, and I'll fill the rest. I'm quite eager to see what comes of your plans."  The woman nodded.

"Don't let me detain you," said the Count, signalling the end of the meeting.

-=+=-

The water in the tub was getting cold. Time to either heat it or get out.  Desi checked her fingertips.  Well-pruned.  She sniffed them.  It might have been her imagination, but she could still smell the brackish water of the swamp.  Another hour, then.  She flamed the side of the tub.

Tomorrow would be another long, weary day.