Ashan 10, 717
The suffering was unbearable. Noth had lived a relatively short life when compared to many others, but it had been one filled with tumultuous conflict and struggle, and thus he had become well-acquainted with pain, agony, and the cries of the helpless and distressed. Warfare had only hardened an already fierce lack of appreciation for life, and he had stolen away many men and women from their families, taken away their dreams, their hopes, their desires. The faces of the dead all spoke of this, of a longing wish to carry on, to continue, but their pleading expressions were lost on the steely faced executioner.
It was in this environment of suffering that Noth had been forged into the being he was today, and it was his lifestyle that had led to a particularly nasty wound being inflicted upon him. He stalked through the woods, feeling the wound pulsate like a beating heart, sending waves of pain through his system with every other step. The wound was still fresh, though a trial had passed, and the sleepless night had taken its toll on the Avriel. His eyes hung close to the ground, unwilling to stare upwards lest they make contact with the sun’s glare and be reminded that the night had been wasted in shrieks of agony instead of wistful dreaming.
Perhaps it was not the worst wound that he had ever suffered, but it was incredibly inconvenient, and it coupled well with the loss of his favored weapon to make the hybrid irritable and frustrated. He had been harmed before, especially during the shadow conflict when he had been raked across the side with the dark creature’s claws. He focused on that scar, introspecting as deeply as possible in order to see if he might make it pulse with the same pain as his wrist. Sadly, no amount of concentration could break away the wound’s pain, and he cradled it limply in his right hand like a newborn babe.
Another terrible scar lay upon his thigh, where a blade had once pierced into it during a particularly fierce struggle with a set of poachers. They had been dispatched handily, but their leader; or at least the most skilled of them, had exacted a dreadful toll upon the hybrid in exchange for his life. It had been difficult to walk for several trials after that, and he had only worsened the wound by dragging precious Nightshade out of the dungeon of squalor and blood. He was reluctant to claim that his running into a doctor was a miracle lest he somehow give praise to the petty godlings, but it was certainly an unlikelihood made manifest.
The doctor had been a wiry and elderly fellow with an eye that glared off into the distance giving it the impression of laziness, though really it was simply a badly set glass construction. Nonetheless, the doctor had taken heed of the pair’s suffering, and had gladly assisted them in healing, though it seemed unlikely that dear Nightshade ever knew exactly of him fore she had fainted far before they had met. When questioned, he had stated that he was wandering the woods in search of local medicinal products, and that he would gladly help the downtrodden and damaged birds.
He had held a kindness that was reminiscent of Nicholas’ own, but the glass eye which coupled with the shuddering breaths he took before retrieving more expensive treatments seemed to hint at it being a false impersonation of true kindness as opposed to a compulsive altruism. Despite the questions surrounding his disposition, he had been incredibly useful in the patching up of Noth in the past, and the twilight hybrid believed that he could once more assist him in his time of tribulation.
Stepping past another branch, the feathered fiend dutifully dodged dangling branches and other arboreal protrusions, listening as birds overhead fluttering away from him, or; in the case of a particularly nasty vulture, drew closer. The carrion bird sensed his weakness, and were it a predatory beast, Noth felt certain that it would have pounced upon him and torn him to shreds. As it stood, a simple shout towards the slavering animal was enough to remind it of his place in the food chain. That particular distraction caused the hybrid to step directly into a tree trunk, pressing his wrist against it, and inciting a string of epithets and curses unrepeatable even in the harshest of docks and bars. The hybrid lashed out at the tree, smacking his thigh into it, and allowing the greave there to soak up any potential harm he caused himself. A slight chunk of bark was dislodged from the stationary tree, and the twilight hybrid accepted this as recompense for its having been birthed in so inconvenient a location.
The hut came into distance shortly after that outburst of passionate rage, and the twilight hybrid once more observed the oddities surrounding it. It had a short and squared base which opened upwards into a large and dome-shaped top with several windows scattered throughout at seemingly random intervals. It wasn’t terribly attractive, and reminded the murderous Avriel of a large mushroom, or perhaps of the dwelling of a witch in his book of legends. Given the contents of the home, he might not have been terribly off the mark.
Feathered fingers stretched forward, curling into the familiar shape of a fist before rapping upon the door with delicate softness. The wooden construction creaked with each addition of force pressed upon it, as though it might collapse should a stern wind blow into it. A slide differentiated itself from the rest of the doorway, its lines revealing that it had been cut away from the door and altered before being returned. That same slide now opened, dropping away from the wooden construction and revealing a still and unmoving eye to him.
A withered and rasping voice interlayed with something like impatience whispered through the opening, the unseeing eye never leaving its position.
“What?”
“It is Noth. I have need of your services.” He spoke, a taste of unwanted desperation creeping into his voice in stout recognition of the direness of his situation.
“Oh! Noth! Yes, you are the Avriel with the lone wing!” He complied with the call for services, opening the door with the click and clack of locks and the shifting weight of a metal bar which creaked nearly as much as the door upon which it sat. The wiry old fellow came into view, hunched somewhat due to his age, and grinning a toothy smile that unsettled the bird to a degree. That grin only grew when he realized that his memory of the twilight hybrid had been correct.
“Yes, oh yes! I still have the greatest memory in the land, it seems.” He chuckled gently to himself, spinning about to walk across the room and retrieve a bag overflowing with assorted tools of the trade.
“Now then, what is it that you need, Noth?” He spoke, his voice no greater than a whisper upon the wind as he took hold of the tool bag, stuffing the objects back into their places with seeming abandon for proper order or organization.
“I believe that I have fractured or perhaps broken my wrist, and require some assistance in setting it.” It was honest, though he would likely not reveal the cause of his injury had been the attempted robbery of a pair of innocents near a river, despite the pleading and curious eye of his host.
“Ah. That shouldn’t be terribly difficult! Come, come!” He spoke, vibrantly urging the hybrid to follow him into another room. This room was fairly dark, and would have been pitch black were it not for a series of candles that lit the place, exposing its contents simultaneously. Several rows of jars had been strewn about the place, and each one had a handwritten label upon it. The writing was difficult to discern, for the hand writing it was not nearly as stable as it had once been, but the contents were readily visible in the candlelight. Here there was an eye, floating in a strange substance with the scent of brine. There was the heart of a horse, its aorta grossly distorted as though something had been forced into it in order to widen it. Perhaps most fascinating of the glass jars was one which held a tiny songbird, its wings having lost some of their vibrancy, and its eyes replaced with cotton. It stared directly forward, unmoving, unfeeling. Clearly, it had been dead for quite some time, reasoned the twilight hybrid, but when its master passed it, it uttered a guttural and strange noise reminiscent of birdsong in greeting. He shuddered.
They passed by the jars, and ended in another room, this one more easily lit by a skylight which allowed the suns; glare to pierce through the home. In the center of the room was a long table, and upon it was a sheet which covered over a bulging object. It became evident rather quickly that this was a body, for its callused feet jutted out of the too-short sheet, exposing its grime-ridden toes.
“Apologies for the mess. I haven’t had the chance to bury everyone yet. Fret not, though! I doubt you’ll end up like him with a fractured wrist.” This elicited a morbid laughter from the elderly man, and he lazily motioned to a seat in the corner of the room. The twilight hybrid examined the body for an instant, taking note of its exposed head which peaked just barely out from beyond the sheet. The man had been through his midlife, but there was something strange about his face that bothered the bird. He glanced upwards, observing that the doctor had returned to his tools, and gently pried away the lip of the fellow with his finger, taking notice of the lack of teeth in his mouth, and another subsequent probing revealed that his eyes had been replaced with cotton balls. He retrieved his flange from the corpse, and glanced at the chair to which he had been directed.
The twilight hybrid complied with the older man's direction, stretching his arm outwards so that the doctor might examine it. The man did so quickly, reaching for a measuring tool from his bag, and comparing the arm with the notches upon it.
“There might be some discomfort here. Don’t flinch, or else you may hurt yourself further.” He stated, placing down the measuring tool and using his tiny hands to feel about the damaged wrist. He would apply a hint of pressure here and a hint there until finally the hybrid elicited a groan of pain. Having located the ailment, the doctor proceeded to double-check himself, and apply more pressure to the wound which caused a yip of pain to burst from Noth. Typically, he would have been quiet about such suffering, but it seemed more conductive to allow the medical professional know where he was wounded then to will himself through the pain.
“Definitely a fracture, then. Don’t worry, these are easy to fix.”
The man continued working, cutting away at a set of material he had nearby, and forming together what appeared to be some form of splint for the arm.
“So, get a job then?” The doctor questioned as he worked, causing Noth to raise an eye at the suspicious interrogative.
“No.” The answer was blunt and to the point, especially since the hybrid wasn’t entirely certain that the doctor wasn’t snooping into how he had obtained his wound.
“Well then, how did you plan on paying me?” The doctor stopped his work, twisting around and glaring at the hybrid with his one good eye, and a sick grin spread across his lips.
He hadn’t quite considered that. The pain of having a fractured wrist had all but clouded his mind to the prospect of paying the doctor, and his kindness from before had seemed evidence enough that he was familiar with charity work. Nonetheless, it simply wouldn’t do to eliminate the doctor after their work was done, because it was completely possible that the twilight hybrid might desire further medical care in the future.
“What do I owe you?”
“Tell you what, Noth. You owe me a favor, and we call it even.” The sickly grin remained upon his lips, and they pursed with delight as the twilight hybrid agreed to his terms with the simple nod of his head. It may have been better in the long run for the Avriel to simply set up a monetary payment, but he was admittedly rather poor, and gathering more funds meant risking himself by assailing travelers. Ultimately, whatever the favor was, it couldn’t be more dangerous than the alternative.
“Wonderful. Now, outstretch your arm. Here is your cast, you’ll need to make sure that you…”
The list of rules for the item were many, but it was only another fifteen bits before the hybrid left the strange glass-eyed gentleman, and his anomalous home, and returned to his own cave, content in the knowledge that he would be better soon.
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