Sort of. The necrophages that move in to eat the dead need tending to, as they'll spread disease and kill living people once they've run out of corpses.
[It's not unheard of for the more common necrophages to be reported in storytelling as the living dead, due to their resemblance to a rotting corpse that shambles on all fours. But such creatures had never been alive, instead they were incursions from other Spheres that ran rampant here without witchers to stop them, feeding on The Continent's endless wars.]
[ The comically disgusted wrinkle of her nose makes a return as if the memory alone is enough to dredge up some unwanted memories. ]
Sounds familiar.
[ Alix mutters, automatically reaching up towards the junction of her neck and shoulder as if the muscle there retains some lingering soreness, the gesture abruptly aborted halfway in favor of dropping back to the tabletop with a dull 'thump' once she registers the movement. ]
Scuttles around on all fours, spiny, runs in packs? Ring any bells?
[He has a brief, small flashback to copying from the old bestiaries, the first things he learned to write on his own. For some reason, the scholar the old man had them copying had decided that it was the tiger-like stripes that were the key distinguishing marks between the two species of common quadrupedal ghouls and not, you know, the enormous spikes and staggering defensive scream.
His yellow eyes follow the abrupt descent of her hand, weathered brown furrowing a moment. But he won't press it, he just makes note of the way she had stopped herself doing... something.]
[ Alix goes to take another drink from her mug only to pull up short, eyeing the overt absence of liquor with a sour, gimlet glare as if personally offended it didn't have the courtesy of magically refilling itself. Alghoul. Finally, a name to file away for future reference. ]
First time meeting one I got my horse knocked out from under me and damn near lost an arm the bargain. [ Snort. ] Felt like a proper shavetail staggering all the way back on foot.
[ She gives herself a shake and hooks a finger around the handle of her second tankard, determinedly tilting the dented container up, and up, and up further still as she downs half the contents in one long draught, banging it back down on the tabletop with the same gravitas as a judge's gavel. ]
Well. You get the idea. My point is: better you than me, I'm not sorry to say. Could've sworn I ran the tough old bastard clean through the middle and just made it angrier than it already was.
[ Both advice and offer to pay are met with a suitably sheepish smile. ]
Discretion is the better part of valour, as they say. I'd never hear the end of it if another one manages to unseat me and make a royal mess of a perfectly good horse and tack.
[ Yeah, no. She'll just go around instead of through next time.
Even though the flicker of flame Eskel called up lasted for only a heartbeat, her eyes still wander back to his empty fingers in the perplexed manner of someone striving to figure out the mechanics behind some complex sleight of hand. A witcher-specific trick of the trade no doubt. Must come in handy (heh) when flint and steel aren't available. ]
[Witchers don't have a lot of party tricks up their sleeves, but the misapplication of igni to light a candle or simply as a flashy gesture is one of them.]
Maybe you're enabling mine. They say you don't have a problem if you don't drink alone.
[ A dastardly pact indeed. Perhaps just a little watered down by the fact she's principally incapable of becoming intoxicated, but that's beyond the point. Alix's gaze meets his for several long moments, flipping through and discarding different topics in quick succession prior to settling on the blunter, if more practical, conclusion to the entire day. From the ill-omened clash with the basilisk to the surprisingly restful evening she can't say any of this has gone quite as she'd expected it to.
Even so. She can't help but treat the next statement with great care. ]
You know, Eskel... for a crossbow toting menace, you're surprisingly good company.
[ Comfortable conversation and shares the same vices. Who could've seen that coming? ]
No offense taken. Didn't exactly go out of my way to be the most gracious guest either, if you noticed.
[ All that dancing around the 'why's and 'who's of the matter, it's a miracle Alix wasn't shot, since she definitely deserved it at the time. In hindsight that's probably why the mysterious benefactor of hers chose the most heavily armed person for the job -- she had the best chance of surviving if something went horribly wrong.
The next round arrives as she polishes off the remainder of her drink, exchanging two empty cups for the full one the barmaid plonks down in front of them; a polite touch on the elbow and a couple coins forestalling her from flitting away to another table quite yet. ]
If you've any spiced wine hiding behind the bar I'll take a glass. [ And since it's only fair to follow up the round he's covering, Alix gives Eskel an expectant look in turn. ] What say you? Fancy a taste of the uppity stuff?
[ Imagine the chaos if Lambert got assigned instead....... ]
Oh ye of little faith. A little culture won't ruin you. [ Hey, no complaints from Alix's end. More wine for her. ] One of the same and one of the wine, when you get a moment. Off you trot.
[ "A moment" may well be a long time coming; during their little exchange several patrons have begun looking around peevishly, expecting the harried barmaid to be in several places at once. To say she's relieved when Alix pointedly turns away in dismissal would be an understatement.
It also occurs to the knight, in a hilariously belated lightbulb moment, that she hasn't bothered to introduce herself at any point during their acquaintance. Shit. How does one ease into that sort of thing? ]
...it's Alix, by the way. Just in case the 'creature' moniker ever wears itself out.
[If Lambert had found her, it would likely have been embarrassing for all involved. Eskel's social skills might be lacking, but Lambert has a bad temper that gets worse when he feels threatened.]
Hmm? Oh, I figured you just didn't need me to know. Or maybe you didn't have one you could give me.
[He clearly isn't too troubled by how late she's chosen to reveal this information.
The tension rising in the room makes his shoulders tense and he begins to spend more time watching the patrons than his strange companion.]
[ He has a very reasonable point. That won't stop her from giving him a deeply unimpressed look all the same -- even if it doesn't have any real bite to it. ]
My pride is easily bruised so I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last statement.
[ With her back to the room, Alix is blissfully unaware of the steady climb in latent hostility, quite content to enjoy the beverage Eskel's paying out of pocket. As far as she's concerned everyone's having an excellent time! What could possibly ruin such a fine evening? Well, as it turns out, mostly the usual suspects: drunks, gambling, and poorly restrained temper.
A chair clatters noisily backwards as one of the men at the dice table surges to his feet with an ugly snarl twisting his face, and it's not coincidence that he's the first to throw a punch when his counterpart sees fit to do the same. In the blink of an eye both table and dice have been upended, hopelessly lost in a melee of flailing fists and heaving bodies, and it's starting to look a lot like a brawl is about to engulf all the patrons - bystanders and instigators alike. ]
Ah fuck, I didn't mean anything by it, just figured with the way magic works someti-- shit!
[This is the last thing he wants to get mixed up in and were he alone, he would probably have just hunched down in his chair and ignored the men, or tried to slip out the back. But he's not alone, so he's heaving himself to his feet to get himself between Alix and the fight.
Could she likely handle herself? Maybe, but it's not as though he hasn't noticed that she didn't exactly come out of the tangle in the sheep pasture unscathed.]
[ Lucky for her he's paying attention - both horse and spear are outside, meaning she doesn't have many options in terms of defending herself. Eskel's vigilance gives her enough warning to half turn in her seat to see what all the ruckus is about, ducking hastily as something that looks suspiciously like a broken chair leg goes sailing gracefully through the air where her head used to be and clatters off the wall in a shower of splinters and wood dust. ]
Oh come on. Really?
[ Bruh why can't everyone just get shitfaced in peace... Alix follows Eskel's lead after hurriedly drinking down as much of her lager as possible (look she's got priorities alright don't judge), one hand resting on his shoulder to make her presence known in the confused tangle of bodies and limbs. The last thing they need is to get separated in this mess. ]
[ Her touch on his shoulder tightens marginally in sympathy. As long as the shield holds, the indiscriminate fire won't pose as much of a problem... but it's double edged sword since the glow does tend to draw attention. There's a marked increase in bits and bobs rattling off his shield as other villagers pitch in with vicious enthusiasm. Yet another sacrifice to lay at my feet, she thinks dismally, applying steady pressure to guide him back with her around the worst of the brawl. ]
Just keep doing what you're doing. [ It's been a while since she's had cause to break out the supportive officer voice - a skill intended keep a skittish line from breaking in pitched combat. Alix is mollified to hear the calm authority in her tone hasn't gone thready with disuse, even if a hardened veteran like Eskel probably doesn't need the additional encouragement. ] Let me worry about the rest.
[ They skirt around the edges of the melee in lockstep; while doubtless several of the opportunistic drunks would've liked to take a shot at the mutant they find so distasteful, it's difficult to focus on someone across the room when your neighbor is trying their best to cave your skull in with whatever's readily at hand. One wiry youngster ducks in, full of piss and vinegar and red-faced in animalistic rage, thinking to take advantage of their careful retreat to win himself a badge of drunken glory by landing a sucker punch. Alix whips around on the spot, releasing Eskel.
The boy's knobbly fist glances off her cheek. A step in. Fingers lock around his wrist, jerking him towards her. And turn --
With equal amounts of drilled military precision and sheer vicious disregard for the damage done to both her knuckles and the person she's striking, Alix's fist snaps out and flattens the boy's nose with a wet 'crack', sending him tumbling ass over kettle in time to vanish under the stomping feet and flailing legs of his fellows.
Then it's back to calmly assisting Eskel maneuver - with the non-punching hand, notably - as if the brief burst of violence never happened at all. ]
[When she releases his shoulder, she loses the protection of the shield. Which may well be fine as he momentarily loses it (it's not really meant to be held for long periods anyway) as the youth's blood splashes across Alix and himself before the boy disappears back into the fray. It certainly doesn't endear them much to the rest of the room. The second her hand is back on his shoulder, he grits his teeth and pulls the shield up again and lets her guide him.]
[ Fortunately for them both it's merely a tense handful of seconds more before they're outside in the fresh air. None of the angry brawlers see fit to follow, and the only drunks on this side of the door are the ones so inebriated they're either leaning heavily on the wall for support, or blacked out facedown in the dirt.
Alix gives him an approving clap on the back with her good hand before sidestepping out of his personal space. ]
Here we are. Bit touch and go for a moment there, almost thought that one would get past me.
[Once the two strangers are out of easy pelting or punching distance, the mob gives up as it usually does. Outside the bar they're met with momentary looks but nothing more.]
Glad it didn't. Its hard to carry a person and cast at the same time. Assuming the kid coulda knocked you out, I guess.
[ An unusually gruff statement coming from her, but it reflects poorly on her honor to let a friend?travel companion?new acquaintance get clocked in the back so easily. So what is there to be sorry for? There is one other place to drink in the hamlet but her less than enthusiastic expression makes it plain that isn't an option. ]
Might as well lick our wounds while the trash clears out, I suppose. [ She jerks a thumb in a vague direction over her shoulder. ] Need to mend a couple things, stitch myself up, so on. Got your pay buried in my saddlebags somewhere too if you prefer to have it on hand.
I can help you, if you need an extra pair of steady hands.
[He offers flatly, without insinuating that she needs his help or that he has any interest in getting his hands on her in any way but to help. He just offers assistance because he knows what a pain in the ass it is to stitch up your own wounds.]
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[It's not unheard of for the more common necrophages to be reported in storytelling as the living dead, due to their resemblance to a rotting corpse that shambles on all fours. But such creatures had never been alive, instead they were incursions from other Spheres that ran rampant here without witchers to stop them, feeding on The Continent's endless wars.]
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Sounds familiar.
[ Alix mutters, automatically reaching up towards the junction of her neck and shoulder as if the muscle there retains some lingering soreness, the gesture abruptly aborted halfway in favor of dropping back to the tabletop with a dull 'thump' once she registers the movement. ]
Scuttles around on all fours, spiny, runs in packs? Ring any bells?
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[He has a brief, small flashback to copying from the old bestiaries, the first things he learned to write on his own. For some reason, the scholar the old man had them copying had decided that it was the tiger-like stripes that were the key distinguishing marks between the two species of common quadrupedal ghouls and not, you know, the enormous spikes and staggering defensive scream.
His yellow eyes follow the abrupt descent of her hand, weathered brown furrowing a moment. But he won't press it, he just makes note of the way she had stopped herself doing... something.]
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Alghoul. Finally, a name to file away for future reference. ]
First time meeting one I got my horse knocked out from under me and damn near lost an arm the bargain. [ Snort. ] Felt like a proper shavetail staggering all the way back on foot.
[ She gives herself a shake and hooks a finger around the handle of her second tankard, determinedly tilting the dented container up, and up, and up further still as she downs half the contents in one long draught, banging it back down on the tabletop with the same gravitas as a judge's gavel. ]
Well. You get the idea.
My point is: better you than me, I'm not sorry to say. Could've sworn I ran the tough old bastard clean through the middle and just made it angrier than it already was.
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[He punctuates his sentence with a flick of his wrist, a spark wreathing his hand for half a moment before it goes out.
He watches her gulp her beer and finishes his own, waving for the barmaid again.]
Next one's on me, yeah?
[He asks Alix, indicating to the barmaid he'd like two mugs.]
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Discretion is the better part of valour, as they say. I'd never hear the end of it if another one manages to unseat me and make a royal mess of a perfectly good horse and tack.
[ Yeah, no. She'll just go around instead of through next time.
Even though the flicker of flame Eskel called up lasted for only a heartbeat, her eyes still wander back to his empty fingers in the perplexed manner of someone striving to figure out the mechanics behind some complex sleight of hand.
A witcher-specific trick of the trade no doubt. Must come in handy (heh) when flint and steel aren't available. ]
Enabling my bad habits, are we?
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Maybe you're enabling mine. They say you don't have a problem if you don't drink alone.
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[ A dastardly pact indeed. Perhaps just a little watered down by the fact she's principally incapable of becoming intoxicated, but that's beyond the point.
Alix's gaze meets his for several long moments, flipping through and discarding different topics in quick succession prior to settling on the blunter, if more practical, conclusion to the entire day. From the ill-omened clash with the basilisk to the surprisingly restful evening she can't say any of this has gone quite as she'd expected it to.
Even so. She can't help but treat the next statement with great care. ]
You know, Eskel... for a crossbow toting menace, you're surprisingly good company.
[ Comfortable conversation and shares the same vices. Who could've seen that coming? ]
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Sorry about that. We're not really raised to be welcoming hosts. Better to chase people away.
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[ All that dancing around the 'why's and 'who's of the matter, it's a miracle Alix wasn't shot, since she definitely deserved it at the time.
In hindsight that's probably why the mysterious benefactor of hers chose the most heavily armed person for the job -- she had the best chance of surviving if something went horribly wrong.
The next round arrives as she polishes off the remainder of her drink, exchanging two empty cups for the full one the barmaid plonks down in front of them; a polite touch on the elbow and a couple coins forestalling her from flitting away to another table quite yet. ]
If you've any spiced wine hiding behind the bar I'll take a glass. [ And since it's only fair to follow up the round he's covering, Alix gives Eskel an expectant look in turn. ] What say you? Fancy a taste of the uppity stuff?
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He glances at her when she asks.]
Oh, it'll probably be wasted on somebody like me, I reckon.
[As if a witcher's sense of taste isn't as complex and powerful as his sense of smell.]
Won't say no to another beer though.
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Oh ye of little faith. A little culture won't ruin you. [ Hey, no complaints from Alix's end. More wine for her. ] One of the same and one of the wine, when you get a moment. Off you trot.
[ "A moment" may well be a long time coming; during their little exchange several patrons have begun looking around peevishly, expecting the harried barmaid to be in several places at once. To say she's relieved when Alix pointedly turns away in dismissal would be an understatement.
It also occurs to the knight, in a hilariously belated lightbulb moment, that she hasn't bothered to introduce herself at any point during their acquaintance.
Shit. How does one ease into that sort of thing? ]
...it's Alix, by the way. Just in case the 'creature' moniker ever wears itself out.
[ Nailed it. ]
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Hmm? Oh, I figured you just didn't need me to know. Or maybe you didn't have one you could give me.
[He clearly isn't too troubled by how late she's chosen to reveal this information.
The tension rising in the room makes his shoulders tense and he begins to spend more time watching the patrons than his strange companion.]
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My pride is easily bruised so I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last statement.
[ With her back to the room, Alix is blissfully unaware of the steady climb in latent hostility, quite content to enjoy the beverage Eskel's paying out of pocket. As far as she's concerned everyone's having an excellent time! What could possibly ruin such a fine evening?
Well, as it turns out, mostly the usual suspects: drunks, gambling, and poorly restrained temper.
A chair clatters noisily backwards as one of the men at the dice table surges to his feet with an ugly snarl twisting his face, and it's not coincidence that he's the first to throw a punch when his counterpart sees fit to do the same.
In the blink of an eye both table and dice have been upended, hopelessly lost in a melee of flailing fists and heaving bodies, and it's starting to look a lot like a brawl is about to engulf all the patrons - bystanders and instigators alike. ]
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[This is the last thing he wants to get mixed up in and were he alone, he would probably have just hunched down in his chair and ignored the men, or tried to slip out the back. But he's not alone, so he's heaving himself to his feet to get himself between Alix and the fight.
Could she likely handle herself? Maybe, but it's not as though he hasn't noticed that she didn't exactly come out of the tangle in the sheep pasture unscathed.]
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Eskel's vigilance gives her enough warning to half turn in her seat to see what all the ruckus is about, ducking hastily as something that looks suspiciously like a broken chair leg goes sailing gracefully through the air where her head used to be and clatters off the wall in a shower of splinters and wood dust. ]
Oh come on. Really?
[ Bruh why can't everyone just get shitfaced in peace...
Alix follows Eskel's lead after hurriedly drinking down as much of her lager as possible (look she's got priorities alright don't judge), one hand resting on his shoulder to make her presence known in the confused tangle of bodies and limbs. The last thing they need is to get separated in this mess. ]
Stay or go? This could get nasty.
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[There's the rest of the chair. There's a surge of golden light and it splinters off the quen shield he throws over them.]
He's throwin' spells!
Fucking mutant!
[Eskel flinches, unhappy to have made a spectacle of himself.]
Yeah alright, time to go.
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Yet another sacrifice to lay at my feet, she thinks dismally, applying steady pressure to guide him back with her around the worst of the brawl. ]
Just keep doing what you're doing. [ It's been a while since she's had cause to break out the supportive officer voice - a skill intended keep a skittish line from breaking in pitched combat. Alix is mollified to hear the calm authority in her tone hasn't gone thready with disuse, even if a hardened veteran like Eskel probably doesn't need the additional encouragement. ] Let me worry about the rest.
[ They skirt around the edges of the melee in lockstep; while doubtless several of the opportunistic drunks would've liked to take a shot at the mutant they find so distasteful, it's difficult to focus on someone across the room when your neighbor is trying their best to cave your skull in with whatever's readily at hand.
One wiry youngster ducks in, full of piss and vinegar and red-faced in animalistic rage, thinking to take advantage of their careful retreat to win himself a badge of drunken glory by landing a sucker punch.
Alix whips around on the spot, releasing Eskel.
The boy's knobbly fist glances off her cheek.
A step in.
Fingers lock around his wrist, jerking him towards her.
And turn --
With equal amounts of drilled military precision and sheer vicious disregard for the damage done to both her knuckles and the person she's striking, Alix's fist snaps out and flattens the boy's nose with a wet 'crack', sending him tumbling ass over kettle in time to vanish under the stomping feet and flailing legs of his fellows.
Then it's back to calmly assisting Eskel maneuver - with the non-punching hand, notably - as if the brief burst of violence never happened at all. ]
Ground's wet here, watch your footing.
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Alix gives him an approving clap on the back with her good hand before sidestepping out of his personal space. ]
Here we are. Bit touch and go for a moment there, almost thought that one would get past me.
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Glad it didn't. Its hard to carry a person and cast at the same time. Assuming the kid coulda knocked you out, I guess.
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It'll take five summers more working the fields before he'll have enough arm power to make it count. That was practically a love tap.
He was aiming for you - I was just in the way.
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[He grimaces and resists the urge to inspect the spot where the boy had hit her.]
Well, guess we better find somewhere else to be until the heat dies down. Don't imagine a town this small has an alternative drinking establishment.
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[ An unusually gruff statement coming from her, but it reflects poorly on her honor to let a
friend?travel companion?new acquaintance get clocked in the back so easily. So what is there to be sorry for?There is one other place to drink in the hamlet but her less than enthusiastic expression makes it plain that isn't an option. ]
Might as well lick our wounds while the trash clears out, I suppose. [ She jerks a thumb in a vague direction over her shoulder. ] Need to mend a couple things, stitch myself up, so on. Got your pay buried in my saddlebags somewhere too if you prefer to have it on hand.
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[He offers flatly, without insinuating that she needs his help or that he has any interest in getting his hands on her in any way but to help. He just offers assistance because he knows what a pain in the ass it is to stitch up your own wounds.]
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