33rd day of Searing, 120 AoS
Shaking hands and farmer’s clothes. That was the first thing Arlen noticed when he was out of blue approached by two strangers whilst having lunch in the Duedrop Inn. Along with them came a shower of Kokalath spoken rapidly on quick bursts of breath.
Arlen swallowed the bite and looked at the duo. The man had broad shoulders but less muscle on bones. His bushy eyebrows were pulled together. The woman stood a step behind him, but close enough to hold onto the man’s shoulder and arm. Arlen did not sense shyness in her, quite the opposite. Her face spoke of urgency in the way her eyes bore into his when their gazes met.
Yet, Arlen's blank expression must have given away that he understood nothing of what was said. The farmer stumbled to a hesitant stop and the woman whispered something in his ear. The two exchanged a look before staring back at Arlen. The man’s face twisted a little when he understood the predicament, but it was the woman who got over her cultural predisposition and with broken Common said: “You speak Common.”
“Yes, I do,” Arlen answered, putting the spoon down into the bowl of soup. He looked between the two as though he was watching a game of ball.
The man grumbled something at the woman, making a move to leave. Yet, she barked back and held him in place with arms that Arlen was sure made the most delicious sourdough bread.
The woman continued talking, each word punctuated with some minor gesture - a nod of her head, a sharp and short point in Arlen’s direction. Whatever it was she said, the farmer seemed to be convinced albeit against his will.
Huffing and puffing as though the words were the hardest to say, the man was squeezing his own hands when he said. “You guard, yes?”
“Yes.” And Arlen controlled himself from cocking his head to a side in wonder. Though a job could come dressed in a variety of clothes and attitudes, he was entirely certain what these two needed.
“You...help us?” It wasn’t hesitation on the man’s part. Arlen saw the twitch of the man’s nose. He didn’t want to ask for help from Arlen. But it seemed as though he had no choice.
“Depends. What do you need guarding?”
The man and the woman exchanged a look and the woman likely offered her idea of what was said.
“We think Dranoch,” the man said. At that moment, Arlen’s face dropped the mask of confusion and politeness and levelled into stone chiselled sobriety. He heard of the threat. After his arrival, he saw some of the damage and heard the stories. Whatever these creatures were, they belonged into the Chasm no the North.
“Aren't the Loras guards on this?” He said, recalling that the lady of the town apparently put together an expedition to subdue the threat.
“What?”
Arlen looked around. “Other people.” he moved his hands in a circular motion to encompass the Duedrop Inn and outside. “Loras Guards. Better?”
The farmer huffed and it seemed to break the woman’s patience. She sat down opposite from Arlen.
“No." She dropped the word like one would slam knead bread dough. Her hands were flat on the table, fingers spread out. “Others busy. You free. Yes?”
The farmer uttered something in her direction, hand on her arm to pull her away. Yet, she just swatted at him with fierceness and he fell silent.
“You free?” She then made a quick turn, nimbler than Arlen thought possible and reached for the man’s belt. In a moment of a feeble struggle, she retrieved a modest purse and placed on the table. “We heard you guard. You free, you help.”
Even in the face of the coin laid in front of him, Arlen did not immediately respond. Dranoch was a threat he had not encountered before. Years back, he entered the Chasm with bravery and youthful disregard for his own life. Things had changed. He now knew he would not reincarnate if he were to die and that reality often coloured his decisions these days.
“Other guards? Other---” He asked but even before he finished, the woman was shaking her head, strands of hair falling from her bun.
“No, no. Others busy. You help.” And she stabbed a finger in his direction, her voice breaking. It was then that he saw it, before the man recovered her into his arms. She tried to shake him off but she was shaking too much herself.
She is frightened out of her mind. Arlen swallowed hard. His back prickled. Put their ages together, these two couldn't be older than Arlen and they were already mortally fearful of death.
So he leaned forward and pushed the purse back towards the woman. Her lips quivered, eyes swimming.
“Let me see first,” Arlen said, looking straight into her eyes. “If I can help, I will. You pay after.”
Because prepayment was too hard to negotiate without a common language and he wanted to scout out the location first to understand what he was getting himself into. The couple exchanged a confused look.
"So you help?" The woman asked, voice still trembling.
"First look. Then maybe help."
The couple nodded with hesitation.
