Hell Wears a Red Dress

[Alden]

(SOLO)

Heavy was the morning fog in the Brokenthorn Forest, a thick mist that clung to everything within reach. Damp and cold, that’s all that Alden could feel. Even while walking along a less-traveled woodland path, trying to stay moving, he found keeping warm difficult. Cavan, despite the cold, was in high spirits this early morning. Tail wagging steady at his back, nose sniffing every second. The pale-furred beast loved the woods, loved nature in general, just as Alden had. The tall trees, the chirping of birds, the scurrying of small creatures. They felt at home and at peace more often with falling leaves and brown soil at their feet than they ever had within the city walls of Scara Brae.

There was something about the city the half-ling couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was grateful for the many friends he’d made and how much they had done to try and assimilate him into their society since he woke up in the forest those many years ago. But it never truly felt like his home. He had no memories and only two things to truly call his own. The sword at his side, which he’s taken to calling a Truesilver Blade on account of the local smith noting its flawless sheen and strange craftsmanship, and the crystal pendant he often wears around his neck.

Alden noticed that his hand lingered over the pendant, and must have touched it while lost in thought. He noted again, for the umpteenth time, the strange low humming that emanated from the thing. It was too low to be heard by natural means, but when touched, it sent a soft vibration that drove deep into the bones. Others when touching it sometimes felt unnerved or nauseous, but Alden felt only comfort. The feeling seemed to calm him whenever he was distressed, or comfort him whenever he was wounded. It did not heal his wounds or steal any of the pain, but it seemed to make Alden feel better about anything. Now that Alden thought of it, he realized just how often he depended upon the pendant, how often he kept it at his side. He even started to remember just how awful he felt when parted with it…

A sudden rustling came from his right, tearing Alden from his reverie and instantly his bow was in hand, arrow nocked back. Out came Cavan barreling through the brush, a large twig dangling from his mouth. Alden relaxed at the sight of his companion and the new toy he brought with him. Cavan dropped the twig at his feet, panting, and looked up at him with those bright golden eyes, and Alden couldn't resist. The half-ling went to reach for the twig, and Cavan suddenly dropped low, front paws apart, tail wagging furiously. His eyes were fixed on the small broken wood, ready to chase it at a moment’s notice.

Alden picked it up and said to his companion with a soft smile, “You want this?” Alden moved the twig across the wolf-dog’s vision, and his eyes followed every move. A few moments passed and Cavan decided there had been enough teasing and started barking at his cruel master. The sound echoed through the woods, somewhat buffered by the thick mist around them. “Don’t run off this time,” he told the beast, and threw the twig within eyesight. But that was enough for Cavan. Off into the woods he went, his pale fur blending with the fog. Alden only chuckled. Trying to tame that dog was like trying to catch the sun on a cloudy day.

So the half-ling kept walking, content with his thoughts, content with the silence.

[Alden]

A few hours passed and the thick fog subsided little. Alden had made the journey to Brokenthorn in hopes of catching some game to hunt and use for his leatherworks. He could sell the craft at Derryn’s shop in Scara Brae for a small price, where he apprenticed and learned the trade. Alden remembered his time with the burly and unkempt woodsman. He may have had an interesting odor and eating habits, but the man knew his trade. Alden was glad to call him friend. The half-ling scanned the surrounding forest as he walked, Cavan at his side, and noted the thickness of the fog, even as it neared midday.

He stopped walking, hands on his sides, eyes distant in the mist. Cavan took a few more steps before noticing and turned to look at his master. The half-ling looked to his companion, to which the wolf-dog cocked his head, and gave a disappointed look.

“I don’t think we’ll be hunting this day.” Cavan’s tail started wagging and he began to pant, as if he thought that more playing was in his future. Alden merely smiled. Of all the animals Alden had seen in his time on the island, he knew that Cavan was by far the most intelligent. The half-ling could see recognition in the pale-fur’s eyes, and could never stop being amazed by it.

“Come on,” he said lightly. “Let’s go home.” Cavan barked and chased his tail before returning to his master’s side. The bark echoed once again through the woods, but this time, Alden heard something reply.

A scream, high and shrill, cut through the fog, lasting an instant. Both half-ling and beast stopped dead in their steps. Not long after, Alden heard the faint reverberations of laughter coming from the mist. It was hard to pinpoint from which direction the sounds came, being muffled as they were from the fog. Alden looked down to his companion, who was already gazing at him with his bright golden eyes. The half-ling knew the question Cavan was asking.

He nodded. “Go.” The beast bounded into the brush to his left, and Alden was quickly on his heels. He brought out his bow, and placed an arrow across the grip. As they ran, dodging roots and grasping branches, the half-ling started to make out the faint orange-red glow of a campfire. A quick sharp call from his lips and Cavan ceased the chase. Slowly they approached the fire. Alden could hear muffled conversation as they neared, and didn't like the subject matter one bit.

“Damn this cold,” the man cursed, as a chill breeze cut through the forest. “This fire ain’t worth a donkey’s piss.” He sat huddled on the ground, arms folded over his chest, trying to keep himself warm. Another man sat across the fire from him, wrapped up in a thick blanket, nodding.

“Damn this fog, too. It ain’t natural,” he replied curtly. “This better be worth it.” The first man agreed, nodding.

“Truth,” he said. “It ain’t easy stealing a noble’s daughter.” He looked down at the woman lying next to him, mostly obscured by the fire. “We better get a good reward for you, hear?” The woman whimpered, and the man laughed. Alden couldn’t see much, but he could tell that she was gagged now, most likely bound at the wrist and ankles as well. Her hair was a light strawberry blonde, matted with dirt and grime.

The other man started licking his lips, staring at the woman lecherously. “Maybe we should grab a little extra right now? That dress don’t leave much for the imagination.” He started chuckling. Alden’s grip tightened around his bow, his knuckles white.

The first man threw a twig at the second, jarring him from his fantasies.

“The deal was straight, hear?” he chided. “She ain’t to be spoiled by none but the boss.” The second looked away, grumbling.

“It was just a thought,” he said, defeated.

“Well, stop thinking it. I’ll not have my nuts pulled off ‘cause you can’t keep your pecker between your legs!” The half-ling heard a low growl, and looked to Cavan. The wolf-dog's ears were flat against his head and his snout upturned, baring teeth. Alden tried to quiet him, but the damage was done.

“What’s that then?” asked the second, looking their general direction. The first started doing the same. Alden cursed under his breath. Well, if there were any time to attack, now would be it. He gave a quick pat to Cavan hindquarters and the pale-furred beast shot from the bushes, barking and snarling.

“Seven Hells!” screamed the second, trying to jump from his seat and grab his blade, thick blanket flying. But it was too late. Cavan leaped onto the man and aimed for his throat. Luckily for him, the man was able to present his forearm as a defense. Sharp fangs bit into flesh, and the beast’s strong jaw nearly broke bone. Blood began to flow. The man screamed throughout trying to do whatever he could to fend off the animal.

His friend had jumped up almost as fast and was already making his way to help, sword drawn bare, poised to strike. Alden quickly rose, took aim, and let fly his arrow before the man could harm his friend. The arrow shot true and impaled itself in the brigand’s hand. The sword dropped to the dirt, speckled in its owner’s blood. The air was filled with screams of pain as the second man turned to look at his attacker, nursing his arrow-filled hand.

The half-ling already had another arrow nocked and aimed for the man’s head. He slowly walked from behind the cover of the bushes and into the light. The second man laughed beside his pain. Alden made a quick sharp whistle and Cavan stopped his attack. The beast stood square on the second man’s chest, his eyes never wavering, growl never ceasing.

The air grew still aside from the first man’s laugh.

[Alden]

“What the hell are you,” the first man asked, laughing through a grimaced face, “some kind of fairy?” Alden was used to being mocked by those that didn't know him. He knew his size, knew what he looked like. The man before him was a foot taller, and stronger. But he also bore scars on every inch of exposed skin, and a misshapen nose broken more times than Alden could guess. The half-ling was not impressed.

Alden met the man’s gaze with cold eyes from behind his bow. “We don’t want to hurt you.” The man chuckled incredulously.

“Don’t you, now?” he asked as he looked at the scene. “You seem to spill a lot of blood for a fellow that ‘don’t want to hurt us.’”

“Give me the girl.” The man nodded like he understood. He looked back at the bound woman, fear in her eyes. Now that Alden could see her, she was quite beautiful, wearing a red dress that showed off her well-endowed body.

“’Nother do-gooder, eh?” The man paused a quick moment and looked to his friend, busy with Cavan, and looked to Alden, sizing the half-ling up. Alden knew what he was thinking. ”Am I fast enough to overpower him? Can my friend hold the dog off long enough for me to help?” Alden readied his grip, but the man seemed to relax.

“Alright,” he said. “You win. Consider just asking next time, eh?” Alden chuckled, but not because what the man said was funny, but because he knew that they never would have given the woman over had they asked. They loved their gold too much.

The half-ling lowered his bow. Cavan yelped. The second man yelled. A dagger was shoved into the wolf-dog’s shoulder. Cavan lashed out and tore open the man’s throat, blood gushing onto the dirt. The first man charged Alden, anger in his brow, trying to grab the smaller opponent. The half-ling quickly ducked and sidestepped the man’s attempted grab and fired an arrow into his skull, point-blank. The man dropped to the ground almost instantly, a heap of dead limbs.

The half-ling looked to the arrow, the tip now protruding from the other side, the haft fully encased by the man’s skull. A waste, he thought, both for the man, and himself. He wouldn't be able to salvage that arrow, now. The tip maybe, but not much else. Cavan whined from a few paces away, and Alden was brought back to himself.

His companion was lying on his side, dagger stuck in his shoulder. The half-ling hurried over. After setting his bow on the ground, he rustled through his pouch for his clean cloth, medicinal herbs and fresh water. The wolf-dog was breathing heavy, labored by the pain. Alden placed his hand on the beast’s neck to try and comfort him, and Cavan let out another whine.

[Alden]

“You’ll be alright.” he said. He looked at the dagger. It was buried to the hilt. Alden could only hope it wasn't as long as his dagger. “This is going to hurt,” he muttered. He placed his left hand around the hilt, and his right to steady his friend. He pulled the dagger out slowly, to Cavan’s dismay, and was relieved to find the blade only a few inches in length. It must have been a boot knife or a throwing knife of some kind.

The half-ling set to work quickly, chewing up the herbs needed to stem the blood flow and take some of the pain away from the joint. As he did, he took a small amount of water from his skin and poured it into the wound. When he felt the herbs were properly chewed, he pulled the glob from his mouth and gingerly placed it inside the wound. The wolf-dog whined only a little.

Afterwards, Alden wrapped clean cloth around the Cavan’s shoulder, looping it about his body to stay firmly in place. He cut and tied off the bandage and placed his hand on his companion’s snout, to which he promptly licked with thanks. The half-ling rubbed the wolf-dog’s face and behind the ears.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he said softly, and couldn’t imagine what he would have done if he had lost his best friend. “Maybe you should wear your armor from now on when we travel.” The beast gave a half-hearted wag of his tail. Alden tried to smile through his worry, but he found it difficult.

Just past the fire the noble’s daughter groaned and strained against her bonds. The half-ling nearly smacked himself. He had forgotten about the entire reason they had even fought those brigands to begin with. He walked over calmly and drew his dagger. The woman noticed and muffled screams erupted from her mouth.

Alden knelt down before her, took her wrists in his hands. “We’re here to help you,” he said reassuringly. Once he started carefully cutting her bonds, she calmed down. With her hands free, she quickly removed her gag and wrapped the half-ling in a firm hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said loudly. “Thank you so much!” Her grip was tight, but Alden was able to squirm free. She started laughing and clapping and bouncing around and the half-ling couldn’t help but notice the effect on her breasts. But he stayed on task, and quickly shushed the girl.

“Quiet,” he said firmly, “These men may have friends nearby.” The strawberry blonde shook her head with a wide smile.

“No, it was just these two. The dolts didn't think to blindfold me.” Alden nodded and stood over the woman and offered his hand. The woman blushed, took it and stood. The half-ling went back to Cavan, who was slowly trying to get to his feet.

“Don’t rush it,” he tried to tell the beast, but he was always stubborn. Slowly but surely, he was standing again. He started walking and bore a heavy limp. The woman came over and looked at the wolf-dog.

“Is he your pet?” she asked skeptically. Alden nodded softly patting Cavan on the back.

“And a good friend.” The woman looked at him weirdly.

“I never saw the point in having pets,” she said dismissively, “I always thought they were a waste a time.” Cavan threw a sideways glance the woman's way, to which Alden noted and could only smirk. He could tell they would get along famously.

A cold breeze blew through and the woman shuddered. She looked around the camp and noticed the only extra padding she could utilize was one of the kidnapper’s blankets. It just so happened to be the blanket soaked with blood.

“Do you have any spare clothing?” she asked, to which the half-ling shook his head.

“I only bring what I need,” he said simply. The woman frowned trying to think of what to do. Another breeze rolled through, and she noted Alden’s cloak that sputtered about him.

“Let me have your cloak,” she ordered, holding out her hand expectantly. The half-ling only stared. A few long moments passed and her hand stayed empty. She sighed deeply, let her hand fall and rolled her eyes before saying, “Please…?” As if it was a great deal of effort to say the simple word.

Alden sighed softly through his flaring nostrils and unclasped his thick cloak. He handed it over to the woman, who gave a smile like she was used to getting what she wanted. She wrapped it around her shoulders and grinned at the cloak’s effectiveness. Yet another breeze, and the cold bit into the half-ling’s skin.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“DuBoue,” she answered, “a small port town. My father is a nobleman who helps the Baron--” She stopped at Alden’s upraised hand, somewhat confused and angry that this… person presumed to keep her from speaking.

“We need to start moving,” the half-ling stated as he gathered his supplies. “If we start now, we can make for the edge of the Brokenthorn by nightfall.” The woman looked at her rescuer like he was stupid.

“What? Now?” she asked, pathetically. “But it’s cold!” Alden merely gave her a sideways glance of his own and walked over to the kidnapper he had killed. He reached down and started to pull the arrow out, tip first. When it got stuck a moment later, he broke the shaft, cleaned off any blood and brain matter, and deposited it in his pack. He did the same with the arrow stuck in the brigand's hand, now broken under the weight of man's body. The woman looked at him in surprised, disgusted horror.

“There are worse things in this forest than brigands, Lady…” The woman shook herself and replied.

“Perth.” The half-ling gave a half-hearted bow.

“Lady Perth. Would you like to be cold, or dead?” He didn't give her time to answer as he started to walk off slowly, with Cavan keeping pace beside him, limp and all. The noblewoman stared at his back for a good half-minute as the pair started to melt into the mist, once again surprised with the way she had been spoken to.

But not long after she was dejectedly hurrying to catch up.

[Alden]

Dusk approached. The day was nearing its end, as was Alden’s patience. He had hoped the trio could make good time, at least make the edge of the forest before the moon started to rise, but the half-ling didn’t account for the Lady Perth. He didn’t think anyone could be quite so useless.

If it wasn’t her loud, excessive whining, then it was her penchant to trip over anything that wasn’t completely flat. She would run into low-hanging branches, scream when she felt something brush against her. She had all the subtlety of a lumbering cow, and half the grace.

“Why are we still walking?” she whined. “The day is almost done.” Her high-pitched voice had started to grate Alden’s ears from the very beginning of the journey, so the woodsman had taken the opportunity to try and ignore his annoying charge. When he could no longer hear her movement behind him, he glanced over his shoulder.

Lady Perth was caked with sweat, so unused to any physical exertion that she couldn’t pay someone else to do for her. She leaned heavy against a nearby tree, wrapped in his cloak, her chest heaving with labored breaths. Alden had planned to push her through the night, aggravated knowing that had she not slowed them down, he and Cavan would have made the journey in half the time.

But looking upon her now, the half-ling could see the weak, pampered woman she proved herself to be. Even through all of her haughty, noble arrogance, Alden could not help but pity her. A pang of guilt ran through his chest. She had been ripped from her home, dragged across Scara Brae by two less than delicate brigands, all so she could be given to their master to be "spoiled." An unpleasant experience, to be sure.

“We rest here for the night,” the half-ling said. Lady Perth’s relief was palpable.

“Thank the Thayne,” she wheezed, and slumped to the ground. Alden looked to Cavan, who was a few paces away looking back. The wolf-dog’s face, Alden could guess, was some mixture of disbelief and annoyance.

“Let’s get a fire going,” he told the beast. Cavan let out a huff, and turned his face away, signaling to leave the troublesome woman behind. The half-ling chuckled, but gave his companion a stern look. The wolf-dog merely stared for a second longer and limped away gingerly, no doubt to look for some twigs and branches.

Alden made a mental note to check his friend’s bandages, and started clearing out appropriate space for the fire.

[Alden]

Cavan sat comfortably at his master’s side as the half-ling’s deft hands replaced the wolf-dog’s bloodstained bandages. The wound in his shoulder had stopped bleeding despite the beast’s insistence to continue moving, but it would be a long while yet before Alden could stop worrying.

A few feet away, a large fire crackled and burned, flooding the area in a blanket of warmth that dried the group’s damp bones. Alden would have considered himself lucky to even start a fire after the day’s heavy mist, but it seemed his skills as a woodsman won out.

“For someone who fears the dangers of this forest, you surely built a noticeable fire,” Lady Perth said, smiling. “Not that I’m complaining.” She shifted in the nook of the tree, wrapped still in the half-ling’s heavy cloak, getting comfortable. Her voice was soft, thick with fatigue, evidence of the day’s hard trek. The glow of the fire enveloped the area in a cozy orange hue. The noblewoman’s light skin was shimmering, almost translucent. Alden thought it a pleasant image.

“That’s the point,” he responded, fiddling with Cavan’s bandages. “Wolves frequent the area. This is your best protection at night.” The half-ling finished tying a knot and gently patted the beast’s hindquarters, who then limped a short distance away before curling up next to the fire. Alden admired his companion’s perseverance. He put away his things and looked back over to the Lady Perth, whose gaze was locked on Cavan with almost sympathetic eyes.

“Those men who abducted me…” she started slowly. “They would talk every night. They had children, families… and you…” She audibly gulped, her brow furrowed, eyes pained. What was this? Alden didn’t expect such emotion over someone’s captors, least of all from a noble’s daughter.

“It was so easy for you…” she continued weakly. “Have you always been a killer?”

Her eyes flicked over to meet his, and Alden couldn’t bear the weight of her gaze. He looked away and into the fire. He replayed the entire thing in his mind; the tense standoff, firing the arrow into the brigand’s skull. Even now he could recall the cold calculation, the lack of hesitation. The woodsman didn’t know which was worse: the fact that he had killed the man, or the fact that he had felt nothing.

He started to wonder, once again, what his life must have been like before the loss of his memory. Was he a good man, or was he a killer?

“I don’t know…” he answered. The thought sent a chill down his spine that no fire could warm.

Long moments passed without a reply. Alden looked over to the woman and found her sleeping soundly. A heavy sigh released from the half-ling’s lips. He grabbed his bedroll and laid himself down on the hard, brown earth.

Looking up through the orange tinted canopy, he could see the stars overhead, and wondered at their bright life in such a dark existence before falling gently to sleep.